#pipe testing machine

[aaronaccessories]

Powerful Drain Cleaning Machines for Industrial Use

Discover high-performance drain cleaning machines designed for industrial use. Engineered for efficiency, these machines tackle tough blockages with ease, ensuring smooth and uninterrupted drainage. Ideal for professionals, they offer durability, power, and reliability. Upgrade your maintenance process with cutting-edge technology from Rothenberger Singapore. Explore the best solutions for drain cleaning today!

Visit Our Website: https://aaron-accessories.com/industrial/rothenbergersingapore/

[vinceaddams]

Another fantastic estate sale!! I spent less money than last time, thankfully, and got better fabric.

Over 10 metres of cotton velveteen for fantastically cheap. They really rounded down on some of these labels too, one of them is 80 cm more than marked, and another is 50 cm more.

Two dollar hand embroidered Intriguing Mystery Bundle that felt like very crisp silk.

And upon unrolling it I burn tested a loose thread from the edge and is is indeed 100% silk, and is someone's very old unfinished project! The embroidery is all done but it was never sewn up into a garment. Looks like pieces for a chest and... cuffs probably? And a couple other little motifs for something else?

There's a name written on top but no lines traced out, so I'm not sure. Presumably some kind of blouse?

A brass & rhinestone buckle - not very sturdy or high quality but pretty old, and I have had fancy buckles on the mind lately. And gimp cord! So much vintage gimp cord!! Rayon wrapped around a cotton core. I would like to try using it for frogging someday.

Also a couple things of silk twist, and one wad of sturdy pink linen yarn. Look at the moss green silk twist, ooooh. I could get a set of waistcoat buttonholes out of that as long as it wasn't a super early waistcoat with too many.

But! The most interesting thing I found was a goddamn CALASH!

NOT an original 18th century one mind you, it has some machine stitching, but still very old! I'm sure it must be at least 100. The Victorians did love wearing 18th century costumes to fancy dress parties, and made a lot of them themselves when they didn't have extant ones from the previous century to ruin.

It's made of what I think is a fine, crisp, sturdy linen.

The channels are machine stitched (with atrociously uneven tension) and the rest of it is by hand.

It's got a nice double ruffle around the neck and the front, very much like the ones on a lot of the 18th century calash bonnets it was presumably copying, but a different shape from any of the ones I've seen.

The hoops are cane, there's a bit of piping in between the 2 rows of ruffle along the front edge, and the hems of the ruffle are corded. The fabric also has solid selvedges which are whipstitched together in a few places where the fabric is pieced.

The wildest thing about this is it was in the free junk pile! It cost me zero dollars and zero cents!!! I guess being so drab and dirty looking nobody paid it much attention, but still, amazing considering it's obviously very old and all still in one piece.

I'll have to take more pictures sometime and do a blog post on it, and maybe possibly try to wash it with ph neutral soap. Must ask the Museum Friends. (Edit: Ok she says no don't wash it)

Edit: OH also I forgot to mention that somewhere in there was this note that fell on the floor when I got home.

It's addressed to the artist whose house this was, apparently from someone who gave her some antique pieces of clothing.

[bvrnesher]

Hey, love your writing and was wondering if you'd be comfortable writing a Leo Valdez X reader smut with some brat taming in it. Hope you have a good day

۶ৎ — Grease and Tease

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

warnings: unprotected piv, teasing, language, brat taming, smut !! rushed ending

ㅤ��ৎ —˳ leo valdez ! fem. reader

summary: reader is being a brat, bored, and craving attention. Leo, being the great partner he is, gives them exactly what they want—in his way.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗜𝗥 𝗜𝗡 𝗕𝗨𝗡𝗞𝗘𝗥 𝟵 was thick with the scent of oil and metal, the steady hum of machines filling the space as Leo worked. He was in his element—grease-streaked hands moving with effortless precision, eyes narrowed in concentration as he tinkered with something half-finished on the workbench. Sparks flared every now and then, catching the sharp lines of his face in the dim light, but he barely flinched.

You, on the other hand, were bored.

Leaning against the cluttered workbench, you tapped your fingers against the metal surface, watching him work. He hadn’t looked up in at least twenty minutes, completely lost in whatever genius-level project he was messing with. Normally, you’d let him be, but something about the way he was so focused, so serious, made you want to push him. Just a little.

“So,” you drawled, reaching for a nearby screwdriver and spinning it between your fingers, “is this your idea of a romantic date? Ignoring me while you play with your little toys?”

Leo exhaled sharply through his nose, still not looking up. “Unless you wanna help, maybe don’t touch stuff. That’s a high-density micro—” He stopped mid-sentence when you deliberately set the screwdriver down with a loud clank and hopped onto the workbench beside him, swinging your legs.

“Oops.”

That finally got a reaction. He turned his head slightly, giving you a pointed look. “You really wanna test me right now?”

You grinned. “I dunno. You’ve been so caught up in your work, I was starting to wonder if I should find someone else to entertain me.”

Leo’s hands stilled over his project. For a second, the only sound was the distant whir of machinery and the faint drip, drip of a leaking pipe somewhere in the room. Then, with deliberate slowness, he set his wrench down and rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck like he was getting ready for something.

When he finally turned to face you fully, the teasing light in his eyes had darkened into something else. Something more intent.

"You sure you wanna go there, chiquita?" His voice was softer now, but there was an edge to it, like a wire pulled too tight. He stepped closer, bracing his hands on either side of you on the workbench, effectively caging you in. “Because if you keep running that mouth, I will give you something to do with it.”

A shiver ran through you—not fear, but something much more dangerous. Something much more exciting.

And still, you couldn’t help yourself.

You leaned in just enough to brush your lips close to his ear, your voice barely above a whisper. “Promises, promises.”

Leo let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. "Man, you really don’t know when to quit, huh?"

He braced his hands on the workbench, leaning in just enough to crowd your space without touching you. His eyes flicked over your face—your smug little smirk, the way you were just waiting for him to react.

"Y'know, mi amor," he continued, voice smooth but with an edge of warning, "I was gonna be nice. Finish my work, maybe give you some attention after I saved the world or whatever. But you? You just had to start something."

You raised a brow, feigning innocence. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Leo clicked his tongue. "Yeah? Let’s recap. You’ve been talking all this smack, distracting me, touching my stuff—" he gestured toward the tool you’d dropped earlier "—and now, what? You’re just sitting here, looking at me like I won’t do something about it."

You shrugged. "I mean, you haven’t yet."

Leo blinked once, slow, before exhaling through his nose. Then, without warning, his hands shot out, gripping your thighs and yanking you forward on the workbench until you were flush against him. The move was effortless, like he’d been waiting for an excuse.

"Whoa, would you look at that?" he mused, tilting his head. "Seems like I can do something about it."

You sucked in a breath, but before you could say anything, Leo’s hands skimmed up your legs, thumbs traced absent-minded circles against your skin, like he wasn’t in a rush. Like he had all the time in the world.

"You wanted my attention, right?" he murmured, voice lower now, rougher. "Well, you got it. Hope you can handle it."

And just like that, the playful teasing was gone. The air between you shifted—still charged, but now? Now, it was Leo calling the shots.

"Come on, don’t tell me—" you started to say, but the words died on your lips the moment Leo’s hands slid under your skirt. The very skirt you had chosen for this exact purpose. Easy access.

He looked at you with that signature smirk, fingers ghosting over your skin. You shivered under his touch, and oh, he noticed. Of course, he did. For once, Leo stayed silent as he pushed the fabric higher, fingertips tracing the edge of your panties.

A quiet chuckle nearly escaped him when he felt the dampness of the fabric. Well, if that wasn’t a boost to his ego.

"Seriously?" he said, amusement lacing his voice. "I haven’t even done anything."

"Shut up," you muttered. "You can’t exactly blame me for wanting my boyfriend's attention, can you?"

He chuckled and leaned into you, letting his breath hit your skin before he whispered, “Okay, you have my attention.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, his lips found their way to your neck, placing soft kisses on the warmth of your skin. He let out a satisfied hum.

You felt his hand on the waistband of your panties and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs. His touch was like fire, and out of instinct you tried to move your hips, moving closer to his hand, trying to get more. As soon as you did, he stopped.

“We’re impatient, aren’t we?” He said in a teasing tone, but it didn’t take long for him to let his fingers graze your cunt over the fabric of your panties, applying light pressure, until you cried out, begging him for more.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, Leo hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties. “Lift your hips for me, my love,” he said, placing a hot kiss on your neck, accompanied by a playful bite.

You did as he asked and without a word, he slid your panties down your legs, stuffing them into his pocket and winking at you. “I’ll keep these.”

“Leo…” Before you could protest, his finger slid into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure flooding your body. He silenced your sounds with his lips, muffling your moans with his own. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, and his tongue tangled with yours as his fingers pushed a little deeper into you, caressing you and making your mind stop working.

The strokes of his fingers were slow, measured. Leo never did that. Ever.

“Faster,” you moaned, your lips swollen from the kiss. Leo shook his head as he slid a second finger inside, making your eyes flutter shut.

“No,” he said, trailing kisses from your jaw to your neck, sucking in all the right places. “You’re gonna take what I give you.”

"Oh...." You cried, squirming at the pleasure of his fingers slowly sliding in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds.

His fingers danced over your clit, and your back arched, you breath leaving you with a gasp. Suddenly, he hurried the pace, his fingers workings faster on you.

"Wait, wait—" you tried to speak, but the pleasure was overwhelming. "Leo, slow down—"

"I said," he started, his voice low and teasing, "you’re gonna take what I give you."

You felt your orgasm approaching faster than you would have liked, your abdomen tightening. Leo felt it too, and then he pulled his hand away, adding, “When I decide to give it to you.” With that, your orgasm was gone as quickly as it had come.

“Leo, please…” You weren’t begging, obviously not.

“Please fuck me,” you begged, giving him a look you knew Leo could never resist. And he didn’t. At least not entirely, because as soon as those words left your swollen lips, a mischievous glint appeared on Leo’s.

“Oh, trust me,” he murmured, burying his face in your neck, leaving a smoldering glow behind every kiss he pressed against your skin. “I will.” With that, he pulled away enough to unbutton his pants and pull them down along with his boxers, wasting no time in removing them completely, leaving them halfway down his thighs. You weren’t the only one who was eager.

His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing in anticipation. He gave it a few strokes before placing a hand on your knee, helping you make more room for him.

He positioned himself between your legs, gripping your calves to pull you closer. He took his length, guiding it into your folds, letting his tip, already dripping precum, slide between your slick folds. Leo let out a moan at the sensation, only to then let his tip brush against your swollen clit.

You moaned, Leo’s free hand tangling in your hair, pulling you to him and devouring your lips with an urgency he didn’t even know he had. You tried to use your hands to touch him, but he wouldn’t let you. He let go of your hand and pulled away to grab your wrists.

“When did I say you could touch me, baby?” And with a smile gracing his lips, he rubbed your entrance and let himself slide inside your pussy in one swift, unexpected movement. A breathless, guttural sound escaped your lips.

“Oh my god!” you moaned in pleasure as you felt his cock stretching you out. Throwing your head forward, you buried your face in your boyfriend’s neck as he pulled your hips into him, almost desperate to take you deeper as he thrusted into you.

"Leo, slow down… wait, Leo…” The sensations coursing through your body were too much for you to handle. Searing sparks of heat pooled in your tummy, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with an urgency that increased with each quickening pace of Leo’s thrusts.

“Yeah, does that feel good?” He moaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, everything he could reach. All you could do was nod your head in agreement as your walls tightened around him, gripping his cock as you came, cumming all over his shaft as he chased his own pleasure.

Your cheeks burned, beads of sweat sliding down your boyfriend’s forehead, his eyebrows furrowed as he let out grunts and moans. When you whispered his name in a soft, sweet moan, he found his own release, filling you up with his cum as his thrusts slowed to a stop.

Your breathing steadied, but Leo gave no indication of pulling out of you.

“That was…” you began, but Leo placed a finger over your lips, silencing you. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, no. You’re not leaving anytime soon, beautiful.”

a/n: i hated how i writed this one 😭

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ HAPPY LITTLE ACCIDENT

visual is for vibes only, reader's appearance is nondescript!

pairing: luca x fem!reader

summary: your husband receives an emergency phone call and rushes to your rescue

warnings: hospital, minor injury

word count: 1.2k

a/n: can’t believe we still haven’t collectively decided a last name for luca but i saw someone say davies on here and used that - as always, enjoy!

Luca was working late… again.

There had been word that a high-profile reviewer had a booking under a pseudonym for tomorrow afternoon and Luca wanted everything to be perfect.

He’d stayed behind, spending the extra hours perfecting his technique. There was no chance he was going to let tomorrow slip through his fingers.

A woman like her, if she rated his restaurant well, could change everything. He’d be golden - headlines and accolades aplenty.

One more try, he nodded, examining his latest scone attempts, then I’ll go home.

But, the clock struck nine and Luca found he was still elbow-deep in buttercream, sleeves rolled up and eyes fixed on the row of desserts in front of him, meticulously adjusting the pansies he’d placed atop them.

His ringtone sounded, cutting through the silence of the empty workplace.

Luca flinched at the sound, sending a spurt of cream over the delicate flower. He groaned in frustration, “Fucking… goddamn it.”

Luca’s stared down at the destroyed scones, jaw tight. He couldn’t help but sigh.

He tossed the piping bag onto the counter with a dull thud.

This better be good, he thought bitterly to himself, wiping his hands on a tea-towel before picking up his phone.

“Hello?” he said, answering the call and wiping down the counter reflexively with one hand.

An unfamiliar voice answered, surprisingly upbeat for this time of night, “Hi, is this Mr. Luca Davies?”

“Yes, yeah, speaking.”. He nodded, reaching for the cleaning spray and running a cloth over the mess he’d left from his scones.

“I’m calling from Rigshospitalet. Your wife, Y/N, has just been brought in by ambulance. You’re listed as the emergency contact in our records.”

Luca froze, hand reaching instinctively for the counter to steady himself, “I’m sorry… I… what? Is she okay? What happened?”

“She was involved in a bicycle accident,” the receptionist continued calmly, “she hasn’t sustained any major injuries, aside from a sprained wrist.”

“She’s conscious and stable, but, her low blood pressure caused her to pass out on the scene, so, she’s here now for observation and any further tests she may need doing.”

The longer he listened, the tighter the knot of dread in his stomach grew.

Luca swallowed hard, pushing away the panic fighting inside of him, “Right, okay. I’m on my way. Where is it that I need to go?”

He yanked off his apron, chucking his jacket on over his uniform and grabbing his keys.

“Rigshospitalet.“ the receptionist repeated, “Head to the emergency room entrance and you’ll be directed from there.”

“Got it. Perfect, thank you so much.” He said hurriedly, locking up the restaurant behind him and hurrying to his car.

Luca was in the car and on his way to the hospital faster than he could blink. His hands gripped at the steering wheel, knuckles white.

His mind was swarmed by all the possibilities of what could’ve happened to you, and what still could.

What if it was worse than they said?

What if you had a head injury?

Or, worse, what if they found something worse whilst checking you over?

Some underlying condition he’d never even known about?

The thought made his stomach churn. To think, he’d been fussing over buttercream, when his wife had been in an accident.

Accident.

That word unsettled him. It didn’t mean anything certain. He thought the same of stable. Stable was the kind of word people used to keep you calm, sane.

For all he knew, you were hooked up to God knows how many machines and wheezing for air.

And his guilt plagued him most of all. It gnawed at him incessantly.

If he’d left work when he’d said he would, you wouldn’t have had to bike home. He would’ve been there to drive you home, to keep you safe from things like this.

How could he have been so selfish?

Every red light felt like his own personal punishment, but it wasn’t long before he was pulling up in front of Rigshospilatet.

Luca slammed the car door shut behind him, not even registering the no-parking signs as he marched through the emergency room entrance.

“Hi, sorry, hi,” Luca said to the nurse at the front desk, breathless. “My name’s Luca Davies. My wife, Y/N Davies, was just brought in? She had a bicycle accident?”

The nurse nodded, smiling gently, “Yep, she’s just through here in one of the beds.”

Luca nodded, barely breathing. “Thank you.”

His legs carried him before his brain caught up, trailing after the older woman down the corridor.

He noticed how the beds she was referring to were still in the ‘emergency’ area, not a ward. He was thankful for that, at least things weren’t overnight-serious.

Finally, the nurse reached a bed and stopped, pulling back the curtain.

And there you were.

You were tucked under a thin blanket, looking pretty tired and scraped up. There was a shadow of a bruise underneath your right eye and a bandage tied tightly around your wrist - but at least you were still breathing.

Luca let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Hey,” you smiled shyly, a cup of terrible, hospital, chocolate-pudding cupped in your hands.

“You scared the living daylights out of me,” Luca sighed, rushing over and embracing you in his bear arms. He held you close against his chest, afraid to ever let go.

“I fell off my bike.” You hummed against him.

“Yeah, I know that, darling, they called me.” he gently brushed your hair from your face, careful not to tug.

“I’m okay, though,” you murmured, pulling back slightly. He cupped your face with both hands.

“No, you’re not,” he said, brushing a gentle finger under your bruised eye, “Look at you.”

“I’ve had worse.” you shrugged, smiling. You happily leaned into his gentle touches, though.

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have anything like this happening to you.” he murmured lowly, eyes scrutinising over your injuries.

“And, definitely not when I could’ve been there to stop it.” his eyes softened.

“I’m fine, Luca. Really.” you placed a gentle peck on his lips, “Promise.”

“Y/N, you were all alone when it happened. You could’ve…” he cleared his throat, catching himself and sighing.

“Just… let me drive you home from now on, yeah? Always? To make it up to you.” he pleaded.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, your uninjured hand reaching up to gently rub his cheek, “Will that make you feel better, baby?”

“Much better.” Luca exhaled, eyes fluttering shut as he nodded.

“Okay. Car-sharing it is from now on, then.” you smiled, a teasing fondness in your voice.

Luca visibly relaxed, whispering a small ‘Thank you’.

“Anytime, handsome.” you hummed, pecking his lips again.

A brief pause fell over the room before Luca spoke up.

“Just so you know, when we get home, I’m not leaving your side.” he warned you with an amused grin.

“Why am I not surprised?” you smiled coyly, sitting back in the bed.

He gently squeezed your thigh and your eyes trailed up to meet his, “I’m serious. Pain meds, loads of tea, bed rest. I’m doing the lot.”

“I don’t deny it.” you smiled in reply, “Thank you, Nurse Luca.”

He placed a soft kiss on the back of your hand, “You’re welcome, gorgeous.”

[bumblesimagines]

Adoration

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Jayce Talis can always rely on his partners in crime to take care of him.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Arcane warnings, implied Jayvik, uhhh nothing much tbh

~~~

Jayce's eyes swept over the papers scattered across his desk, desperately trying to ignore the headache creeping up on his temple. He'd been stumped on some calculations for the better part of a week, and no matter how many tests he ran or theories he revised, it all led to nothing. Equations led to unusable results more times than he could count, and picking apart the numbers and variables hardly helped when his brain refused to cooperate with him.

Mel had advised him to rest and take a stroll around the city to see if it'd help clear his mind, but he couldn't stand the flicker of disappointment that passed over her features, even when it faded into subtle concern. He was going through a brain fog, something he'd grown accustomed to during his time at the Academy, but with so much riding on his creation... 

"Hey, boys," A familiar, cheeky voice called into the room, the soft thud of the door shutting echoing after. 

Jayce tore his attention off the papers with a heavy sigh and slumped back into his chair, his fingers rising to work at some tension in the nape of his neck as he shifted in his seat to watch (Y/N) approach them. (Y/N) offered him a grin and lifted a box of biscuits enticingly, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes informing them he'd only popped by to flake on his actual duties, as always. Jayce could only smile, a quiet chuckle slipping past his lips before he eagerly scooped one jelly-filled biscuit into his hand and bit into it. 

"Shouldn't you be working?" Viktor questioned, voice tittering between scolding and affectionate, one brow arching questioningly at the man when he tilted his head upward toward him. He appeared unmoved by the offering of biscuits, however enticing they smelled, but he softened once (Y/N) swooped down to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. A soft hum emitted from the back of his throat, and he tilted his head backward, silently asking for a proper peck. Jayce's chest constricted with longing as he watched (Y/N) happily comply.

"I'm on my lunch break."

"Your lunch break was over an hour ago, dearest." Viktor lightly tapped his pen on (Y/N)'s nose, eyes crinkling with tenderness. "You can't lie to me; I have your schedule memorized." 

Puffing out his cheeks, (Y/N) blew a raspberry and gave a flimsy, far from innocent shrug. "It was just patrolling. Cal has it handled, I'm sure." He flashed another grin and braced himself against the table before pushing himself up and onto it, settling by the scattered papers on Viktor's workbench. His beloved gave him a long, disapproving stare. "Oh, c'mon, Vik. I know you two missed being in my presence." He leaned in, lips brushing over Viktor's temple, effectively making the stare melt into a playful eye roll. 

"Thank you for the biscuits, (Y/N)." Jayce piped up through a mouthful, his tongue dancing with delight at the tartness of the jelly. He'd scarfed down a hearty sandwich for lunch, good enough to likely keep him from going hungry when dinnertime eventually passed him by, but he could never say no to a sweet treat.

"Anything for my partners in crime," (Y/N) winked. "After all, without me, Hextech wouldn't have happened."

"Oh, yeah?" Jayce laughed lightly and licked the sticky crumbs off his fingers before he folded his arms over his chest. "How so?"

"Well, Viktor wouldn't have gotten into your workshop that night without my help." 

"Help is a strong word," Viktor murmured, the tip of his pen gently scraping against his journal's paper as he scribbled away. Jayce envied his ability to flow so easily through his work, his mind constantly churning and working like a machine. Sometimes, his ability to work so fluently into the night left him being the one on the end of a disapproving stare.

(Y/N) huffed, his forearms coming to rest over his thighs. The hunched-over position hardly looked comfortable, but Jayce couldn't help but notice how it helped outline (Y/N)'s figure through the blue uniform. "Distracting is helping. Admit it, baby, I helped." He cooed, one figure reaching out to twirl one of Viktor's chestnut strands. 

For as long as he'd known the couple, they'd always made warmth spread through Jayce's chest. He always chalked it up to envy or regret. His days since his youth were spent at a desk working through problems in search of anything that could lead him to harness even a sprinkle of magic.

He had Caitlyn, but she was more of a little sister than an actual friend, someone he could spend time with but not bother with his problems. There was Mel now, too, he supposed, but sometimes he found it difficult to keep up with her. She was savvy, sharp, and knowledgeable in areas Jayce struggled with, but her Medarda upbringing restricted her in some areas. She knew how to provide solutions, not comfort.

But (Y/N) and Viktor knew of comfort, of what words to say when he felt on the verge of giving up and admitting defeat. 

He vaguely remembered their love story, one that'd been told over drinks one celebratory evening with laughter and teasing remarks. They'd met as boys by chance at the border between Zaun and Piltover, one gazing up in wonder and the other seeking adventure. They'd bumped into each other again once Viktor began working under Heimerdinger, forming a friendship and then a loving relationship. Jayce listened to the tale in near-awe, something about how fated and meant to be it all seemed captivating him beyond measure.

"You used to be so cute." (Y/N) had cooed playfully that evening, his thumb brushing over Viktor's sharp cheekbone and tipsy, half-lidded eyes studying every inch of his face with pure adoration. Viktor's lips pulled into a small, flustered smile, the pale skin along his cheeks and ears dusted with a light pink. Jayce watched them, his arms itching for someone to wrap around and his body wishing to slot itself between them.

"And you used to be less vexing," Viktor laughed softly, leaning his head into (Y/N)'s hand and sighing with contentment.

Tilting his head toward the windows when the warm hue of the setting sun peered inside, (Y/N) gave a soft hum and placed his hand over Viktor's shoulder, his brows lifting expectantly. "You promised you'd take a break from work, Vik. I'll drag your ass back to our room myself if you complain."

Viktor's mouth parted, ready to protest for the sake of Hextech, but he clamped his mouth shut, thinking better of it when (Y/N) squinted at him through narrowed eyes. He huffed lightly and grabbed his cane, using it to take the weight off his leg as he stood up from his chair with a soft grumble. His lips jutted out, another protest likely forming on his tongue, but they were quickly forgotten with a kiss.

Heaving a sigh, Viktor collected his journal into his arm, tucking it safely beneath his armpit, and turned toward Jayce with a small shrug. "Happy husband, happy life, they say."  

Jayce released a strained chuckle, fingertips scratching at his five o'clock shadow. "Yeah," He repressed the urge to sigh. "Get some rest, Viktor. You deserve it." 

Unlike his good friend, Jayce chose to remain in the lab well after dark, going over past notes and frustrating himself to the point of tears. Exhaustion clung to the back of his eyes, and the tension in his body tugged on his muscles, but he refused to stop until he had at least something. His fingertips grew stained with ink, and his clothes grew wrinkled from his constant moving, leaving him with a disheveled appearance that Mel would disapprove of.

It was only when the sun began rising again that he decided to see what Viktor would say, so he gathered his notes into his tired arms and finally left the lab, his legs moving on autopilot as they took him in the direction of Viktor and (Y/N)'s shared bedroom within the tower. 

He knocked twice and waited, feet shuffling and body swaying from lack of energy. His ears caught the muffled sound of footsteps, and he straightened up, plastering a sheepish smile on his face when the door creaked open and (Y/N)'s half-lidded eyes greeted him. 

"If I hadn't already been awake, I'd shoot you right about now," (Y/N) murmured, his body tilting to allow Jayce inside before he shut the door behind them.

The brunet laughed meekly, a tad guilty, and set his notes down on the coffee table. Hazel hues studied the open-concept living area, noting how easily he could tell who lived in it. There was an attempt at tidiness overridden by the average mess of two people living together with conflicting habits. His mouth salivated with the smell of coffee, his gaze darting over to the enforcer pleadingly. He needed every last drop of energy he could get.

(Y/N) simply arched an unimpressed brow. "When's the last time you slept?" He asked, his tone practically telling him the coffee wouldn't even reach his hands. 

"I, uhm," Jayce rubbed his shoulder, shoes thumping against the floor with each sluggish step he took toward him. "I took a nap?"

"Jayce." (Y/N) groaned his name in a tone he'd heard plenty of times before with his mother and Heimerdinger, though he barely registered it in favor of focusing on how it rolled off (Y/N)'s tongue. His mind worked slowly, too tired to truly think clear, coherent thoughts that weren't focused on how lovely (Y/N) looked in the light or how he gazed at him with genuine care. 

A spark shot up his spine when (Y/N) slung his arm around him and tugged him close enough for Jayce to smell the fading cologne still clinging to his skin that hadn't been scrubbed away in the shower. The part of him still somehow wide awake kept him from slumping into (Y/N)'s side and nuzzling into his skin like a kitten seeking warmth, though his knees nearly buckled. (Y/N) snorted softly, his head tilting to the side. 

"You're a mess, Talis. You're lucky you're pretty." 

A fire spread across Jayce's face, reaching his ears and spreading down to his neck with swiftness. He prayed it hadn't been noticeable against his tan skin, but with his eyes flickering elsewhere and his lips rubbing together, he knew it'd be in vain. A laugh rumbled in (Y/N)'s chest, light and heavily amused, bringing Jayce's attention back to his face, to his smile. He stared, definitely longer than he should've, before some switch flicked in his head and he surged forward. 

He clumsily planted his lips over (Y/N), movements sluggish yet desperate, fingers grasping at the sweats he wore to bed. He felt (Y/N) stiffen right as his mind caught up with his body, and he reeled back with a tear-jerking sense of dread. He'd just kissed his best friend's husband in their own home. A million apologies made their way up his throat, his brows fixing together and eyes darting away again. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Jayce." (Y/N)'s hand squeezed his shoulders, his voice lacking the anger or disgust or awkwardness Jayce had braced himself to hear. He tentatively looked back at him, his racing heart hammering against his chest with panic and worry. (Y/N)'s eyes crinkled with warmth, his smile easing the jittering nerves as his arms wrapped around the scientist. "You're exhausted." He murmured sympathetically, and while Jayce wanted to argue, it was fruitless. He was exhausted. 

"I-" Jayce's attempt at an apology was swiftly halted when (Y/N) pressed his lips into the side of his throat, a fuzzy feeling developing in his head that left him light-headed. 

"What's all this?" A voice heavy with sleep questioned gruffly, sending yet another surge of panic up Jayce's spine. 

Leaning away from Jayce and turning toward the bedroom door, Jayce wanted nothing more than to slip away and never show his face to Viktor again as (Y/N) regarded his partner with a smile. His friend stood dressed in one of (Y/N)'s shirts and briefs, his shoulder leaning against the doorway for some support while he waited for the fog of just waking up to fade. Viktor squinted at them, visibly processing the situation before his eyes trailed away from them. 

"No breakfast?" He questioned, almost offended as he eyed the empty stove.

"I was about to make it, Vik. You're so demanding." (Y/N) gave a light-hearted huff and released Jayce, drawing the scientist's eye with his casual movements whilst he began searching their cabinets as if he hadn't been kissed by someone else. 

Jayce remained rooted in his spot, his mouth forming silent words while he desperately tried to make sense of the situation through his exhausted slump. Viktor had blatantly caught them in an embrace, and no amount of drowsiness could've mistaken it as anything else. "Viktor," Jayce swallowed, his throat dry. "I-" 

Viktor frowned at him, then, and Jayce averted his eyes in shame. "Jayce," Viktor clicked his tongue, his movements slightly unsteady as he made his way to their small, round dining table. "When's the last time you slept? You look..." Viktor trailed off, making a vague motion with his hands. 

"Like shit." (Y/N) finished for him, cracking an egg on the side of a pan, the soft sizzle following after.

Viktor nodded, his brows scrunched together with concern. "Yes, like shit." A little hypocritical in Jayce's opinion, considering how many times eye bags developed beneath Viktor's eyes, but it was hardly the time to whine about it. Viktor sat down at the table and tilted his head, messy brown waves swaying a little with his movements. "Why don't you take a shower and get some rest? You can borrow (Y/N)'s clothes." 

"No, no, that's..." Jayce rubbed his eyes. A nice, warm shower and sinking into a comfortable mattress sounded heavenly, better than making the trek to his own room. He sighed softly, reluctantly. "Well.. if.. if you don't mind?"

"Nonsense." Viktor waved his hand. "Go ahead." 

Jayce nodded gratefully, his eyes lingering on (Y/N)'s back for a moment longer before he staggered toward their bedroom. The bed remained messy, but it was less cluttered than he'd expected. The desk along the wall had Viktor's notes scattered across it, along with a framed and propped-up picture of their wedding day. He gazed at it for a moment, soaking in the joy and love on their faces, and growing hot with guilt. Viktor and (Y/N) had been happily married for years, together since before they even learnt of Jayce's existence. Jayce would never forgive himself if he ended up costing them their happy relationship.

Swiftly, he stepped into the bathroom connected to the bedroom and stripped himself free of his clothes, satisfaction and relaxation creeping into his worn muscles when warm water pelted his skin. He nearly gave in to the exhaustion then and there, but he managed to catch himself and stumble out, patting himself dry with a random towel and cautiously shuffling out into the bedroom.

He spotted new clothes on the bed and approached them, wiggling on each article of clothing and trying to ignore the fact that they smelled like (Y/N), the subtle natural musk mixed with hints of the baked goods he enjoyed eating so much. It was no surprise his clothes smelled like them, seeing as he frequented the nearby bakery so much that they always had his favorite desserts ready for him. He collapsed onto the bed, the hinges squealing softly, and buried his face into the pillow, inhaling. It only took two to three blinks before he was out like light, vision darkening until his consciousness was swallowed up.

To the world, hours had passed, but to Jayce, it felt as if he'd blinked and suddenly the room was darker than he remembered. He felt weird, too, different. His eyes were too heavy to open yet, and he debated fluttering back into his dream state for at least another hour of sleep, but he wanted to identify the pressure around him. His arm, the one he'd extended when he'd shifted to sleep on his side, felt weighed down at the bicep, as if something were resting on it. Along his back, there was something hard pressed in it, something that moved slowly, like a chest breathing-

His eyes flew open at that, disoriented and with blurry vision until he managed to blink everything back into focus. Just mere inches away was Viktor, fast asleep and using half his bicep as a pillow while the rest of his head slunk into his actual pillow. His long fingers were slightly curled around the muscle, barely adding enough pressure to be noticed until Jayce glanced down at them. Soft, little breaths escaped his parted lips, blowing against Jayce's skin faintly. They were close enough Jayce could see Viktor's pores, trace the fading marks under his eyes, take in the beauty marks adorning his face.

Viktor was beautiful, he always had been. High cheekbones, soft, warm skin, fluffy hair that always looked styled, no matter how messy it actually was, a sloped nose right from a statue of a god. Over the years, he'd only grown to look more youthful, as if (Y/N)'s energy fed his body and soul. While his health always seemed to fluctuate, and he had his lows when he could barely get out of bed and his highs when he could walk with just a subtle limp, (Y/N)'s constant pampering and care left him looking young and healthy. 

(Y/N)... Ah. Jayce craned his neck to peek over his shoulder, his eyes settling on half of (Y/N)'s face, the other half tucked into the back of his neck. He snored softly, barely audible but there. His arm was slung over Jayce's hip, and when he peered down at it, he found (Y/N)'s fingers weakly grasping the hem of Viktor's shirt.

Jayce felt comfortable, safe, at home ​​​​​with their bodies against him, reminding him of life beyond his work. Viktor had always been a workaholic, someone who had something to prove with his Zaunite past and unstable health, but where Jayce had nobody to drag him out to breathe fresh air (aside from Mel, who only did it for fancy events and parties), Viktor had a bubbly husband to keep his robotic tendacies pushed aside, to remind him to be human every once in a while. 

"Jayce," (Y/N) sighed softly in his ear, his chin hooking over his broad shoulder. Jayce gave a strained hum, the longing in his heart slowly disappearing, replaced with contentment. "Dinner's waiting in the fridge. Go eat, I can feel your stomach rumbling." He chuckled breathily, his hand releasing Viktor's shirt to press flat over Jayce's stomach beneath his shirt. "Come back to bed when you're done."

Jayce felt his skin tingle, his heart picked up its pace in the slightest. Was this what it would be like to be with them? To live with them?  "What'd you make?" He asked quietly, gaze flickering over Viktor's slumbering figure. He stirred slightly, but otherwise remained asleep, a hint of drool threatening to slip from the corner of his lips. 

"Chicken soup." (Y/N) yawned, his palm rubbing up and down Jayce's muscles and likely feeling the way they flexed beneath his touch.

"You didn't burn it somehow, did you?" Jayce couldn't help but tease, his voice breathless from his touch, despite how innocent it was. It felt electrifying and somewhat purposeful, as if (Y/N) was mapping out his front, exploring.

(Y/N) snorted, voice husky with sleep. "Fuck off, Talis. Get back to me when you actually cook something and don't take the credit from your sweet, poor mother." 

"Mm." Jayce couldn't argue with that, but despite how alluring it sounded to get some food in his system after a whole day of sleeping and regaining his energy, he couldn't be bothered to peel himself away from the two to get up. "Food can wait." He sighed.

"You have to be starving."

"Just a little, but it's fine. I'm-" Jayce swallowed. He was beginning to realize the life of a scientist was rather... lonely, lonelier than he originally thought. "I'm fine right here." He felt more than fine; he felt at peace.

The guilt and shame from before had completely washed away, softened with Viktor's presence and ease in sleeping beside him. They could've woken him and led him back to his place, or even nudged him to take one side of the bed for themselves. Instead, they'd intertwined themselves with him, tangling their legs as if they were a trio and not a duo. 

"You need to eat," (Y/N) urged with the hint of a whine, his chest pressing into Jayce's back more firmly until their cheeks were smushed together. Jayce's heart stuttered, a breath of amusement leaving him at (Y/N)'s sleepy pout. "We can't have you losing your metabolism, pretty boy. Reheat the soup and eat it, or something. " 

"What're you going to do if I don't?"

"Force feed you." (Y/N) answered without missing a beat, the nonchalance in the way he said it forcing Jayce to roll his lips into his mouth before he barked out a laugh that could wake Viktor. His shoulders shook lightly instead, a muffled giggle filling the silence. "Or hold you at gunpoint. Take your pick." 

"Fine, fine," Jayce sighed airily, amused, and carefully slid his arm out from under Viktor's head. 

Viktor softly grunted, his lips jutting out slightly. "You two are so loud." He muttered under his breath and rolled over, turning his back to them both and curling his arms around a pillow. Jayce stilled. Viktor sleepily waved his hand. "Go eat and come back, Jayce." 

Jayce couldn't help the smile from spreading across his face, so big and wide it made his cheek ache. "I am, I am. I'll always come back to my partners in crime."

[novamariestark]

Give Your Heart A Break [Part 2]

Summary: 4 months since your blind date with Hank. But your ex refuses to let you be happy.

Warnings: bad writing 🤣 the ending did not come out the way it plays in my head, fluff, some angst, hurt, abusive ex, kidnapping, threats, death, lmk if i missed any

Word count: 2113

Fandom: Chicago P.D

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader

You should have told him. You should have told Hank about the envelopes, the pictures, the threatening phone calls. But you didn’t, and that’s why you’re chained to a pipe in some mangy old warehouse.

Erin told you to tell Hank, and you were going to, but you had other things on your mind, and you kinda... forgot.

It’s been 4 months since your blind date, and you and Hank continued your relationship whilst still keeping it professional at work. Well... as well as you could. I mean, working side by side with the man you loved was a little tricky sometimes. There were times when you thought you would combust if you didn’t touch him, hold him, kiss him. But you didn’t.

Maybe you should have listened to the threats. Maybe you should have done as you were told and broken up with Hank. You should’ve known that any shred of happiness you had would be taken from you. Why did you even bother trying to be happy. He was never going to let you. You were stupid to even try.

By now, everyone knew about you and Hank despite the fact that you two didn’t act like a couple at work. The first giveaway was the fact that he spent more time with the team and occasionally joined them at Molly’s.

Alvin was the first one to figure it out, followed shortly by Trudy. Adam was the last one to find out, and he didn’t believe it when he did. He received the deadliest death glare when he remarked that you were way out of Hank’s league.

And if they didn’t know before, they would now. Hank was even more out of control than usual. Anyone who had anything to do with your ex was in his sight, even someone who just passed him in the street.

Everyone now had pretty much found out your entire history, something you really didn’t want to happen. You didn’t want them to look at you with pity or worse, like you were weak. You especially didn’t want Hank to know, despite Erin telling you over and over that he wouldn’t look at you differently than he does. But you didn’t want to risk it. You also didn’t want to taint the relationship by even mentioning that prick.

Well, so much for that.

“Wakey wakey princess,” a sick, cold voice chuckles from beside you. A hand comes its way through your hair, gathering up a fistful and yanks your head backwards. You’re met with him. His face. His twisted, psychotic face. The only time you saw him smile was when he was hurting you, “Look at me when I’m talking to you,”

“I warned you,”

“What part of ‘We’re over’ don’t you understand?”

“You don’t get to decide that, Bitch,” he snapped, throwing your head back against the stone wall. You couldn’t see your head but you could feel something dripping from your skull.

“You think you can whore around and there wouldn’t he consequences?” He growled. Pain shoots around your body like a ball in a pinball machine as he stamps, kicks and slaps you anywhere and everywhere.

You bring your knees to your chest, doing you best to shield yourself. Shield your stomach. Another thing you hadn’t told Hank.

But he was about to find out anyway. He and Erin were on their way to your apartment to look for all the messages and things you’d received from your ex.

He found the texts, the voicemails, the photos of you two together going back to when you first started seeing each other but his face was crossed out of every single one. With something red. Lipstick. The same shade he insisted you wear for pleasing him.

As he moved to Investigate further, something caught his eye. A pregnancy test. His hand slowly reached for it, his fingers wrapping around it as he lifted it up to read it.

Positive.

“Did you know about this?” He asked turning around, the test coming into Erin’s view.

She looked at it and shook her head, “No. I didn’t know,” she sighed, “if I knew, I would have told you the second we knew she was missing,”

From then on, his temper was even more uncontrollable. Not only was the woman he loved in danger, but now his unborn child. And he’d stop at nothing to save them.

---

The room was cold, dark and dirty. Splatters of your blood adorned the floor and the wall. A chair in the middle of the room where he sat and watched you suffer. You have no idea how long you’ve been there and you’re starting lose hope slightly.

Your ex was completely crazy. More so than you thought. He somehow knew things. Things you hadn’t even had chance to tell Hank.

“Now we’re just waiting for another guest before we get onto the main event,” he told you, his tone dripping with something twisted that made you sick to your stomach.

You almost didn’t ask; you were scared to. But you had to know. It would have driven you mad, “What’s the main event?”

“Now, now sweetheart. I don’t want to spoil it for you,” he replied, stroking your hair. Like he did when you were his. His pet. You closed your eyes, your body shivering as you tried to stop yourself from crying. You didn’t want to go back. You couldn’t do it again. But with the threats and the letters, did you ever actually escape him. Or was it just some stupid fairytale you told yourself.

Right now, you thought the latter. You were stupid to believe that it was over and now you’d subjected your unborn child to it too.

It was night now, the small window at the end of the building completely filled with the black of night. The only light you had was the small light bulb dangling over your cage. Yeah cage. That was what it was. An actual visible cage similar to the one you’d been in since you moved in with him.

Like many, you didn’t see his true self until you were trapped. You moved far from your family and for years they had no idea where you were or if you were okay. The only person you had was Erin and it was just by chance that you met her and somehow she knew the situation you were in and if you ever wanted to leave, she gave you her card to call her for help.

Maybe you should have gone back home. Moved back in with your parents whilst you got back on your feet. But them you never would have met Hank... and that would have been a damn shame. The things that he made you feel you thought only existed in the books. You never thought you could feel so loved or that the simplest things he would do for you would bring you so much joy

The sound of screeching tires and slamming doors cut through your thoughts like a sharp ass blade. You blinked a couple of times, the hours you had spent in this shithole and the pain he’d put you through taking it’s toll. Were you hallucinating? Or were they really here?

Then you heard it. His voice. The sexy, gravelly tone completely unmistakable.

“CPD! Get on the ground!” he barked as soon as he barged through the door. No cover, just full on walked in and demanded he get on the floor. Your ex’s rough hands tangled in your hair, yanking you off the ground. You let out a strangled cry, your knees nearly giving out as you were forced upright and shoved in front of him like a shield. Hank growled, his gun still aiming at him, but also at you, “Don’t give me another reason to put you in the ground!”

His grip on you tightened, you could feel his breath wafting against your ear,  “You’re not taking her from me again!” he spat. Before you could even process what was happening, you felt the cold, sharp edge of a blade pressed against your stomach. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears you thought it drowned out everything else, “One wrong move and your kid is gone,”

Okay that you heard.

You felt the steel dig deeper into your skin as he pressed it harder against you.

Your chest tightened, you were scared and you felt helpless. All you could do was stand there and let him threaten you and your baby.

You could feel the life inside of you, so fragile, so vulnerable, and completely at the mercy of your asshole ex.

As his voice echoed in your ear, taunting Hank with the death of his unborn baby, something inside you shifted. Sure the fear was there, practically suffocating you, but something else was there too. A fierce, protective instinct that you hadn’t known could burn this hot.

You let him take so much from you and you sure as hell weren’t going to let him take your baby. Not now. Not ever.

You shifted just a fraction, leaning your body enough to shield your stomach from the blade. You didn’t want him to know what you were up to. You didn’t want to provoke him either. But the instinct to protect your child overpowered the fear that had paralysed you.

“I swear to God, if you touch her—if you hurt her—” Hank growled.

Your ex scoffed, tightening his grip on you once more, “You think you can protect her? You think you can take her from me again? You’ll watch her die before you even get close.”

In one sharp movement, you lunged backward, throwing your head back and cracking it against his jaw. You thought it might be enough to loosen his grip. He didn’t. But the shock of the hit made him stagger backwards and gave you enough wiggle room to get away from him, if only by a little. He still had a bruising grip on your wrist but now he was completely unguarded.

“You bitch!” he sneered lunging towards you, knife pointing directly at your stomach ready to make good of his threat. But he never got to you. The deafening sound of gunshots echoed around the room. One, two, three. And they were followed by a thud.

You thought you knew who fired the shots but if you put money on it, you would have just lost. Of course Hank was going to shoot him but someone beat him to it. Everyone turned, looking at the one who had killed him.

Erin.

She would have been your second guess. After all, she did threaten your ex the one time she met him.

Your breath caught in your throat as the reality of it settled in. Your ex was dead. He wasn’t going to come after you anymore. He couldn’t hurt you anymore. You could practically feel the relief washing over you.

Your legs were shaking but they were still moving towards him. You felt as though you were about to crash into the ground at any second, but you didn’t care, you needed him. You didn’t stop until you were in his arms. Safe and warm.

Hank’s arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling you close, pressing you against him as though he was you might disappear if he loosened his grip even for a second.

You couldn’t hold it anymore. The dam that had held your tears for the past few days finally came crashing down, every single drop following suit.

“Hey, hey,” his voice was low and gentle. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he gently stroked your scalp. “It’s over, you’re safe now. I got you.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried into his leather clad shoulder.

Hank moved back slightly, his hand untangling from your hair to cup your cheek, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He told you, his lips press a soft kiss to your forehead, “I’m so glad you’re okay,”

“I was going to tell you after work,” you said, one hand going to your stomach, “Are you mad?”

His brow furrowed as he stared at you, “Mad w–why would I be mad?”

You bit your lip, looking at your feet because you were afraid that if you look at him, you’d be right, "I—I thought maybe... you wouldn’t want this. I mean we never talked about it, and I—"

You were cut off by his lips pressing against yours, “Of course I want this,”

“I want everything with you”

[A/N] I'm sorry 😭 I had Erin kill him because we all know that if Hank's girl and baby were threatened and treated this way, he wouldn't just kill them, he'd hurt them first.

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity)Chapter Four: The Honeypot

Chapter Four: The Honeypot

warnings: fluff, oral sex(fem and male receiving), general cuteness, mentions of porn, mentions of male masturbation pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: it's been a while since you and Kento hung out, and you as him to dinner one night. he reminds you of the thing he promised he would do the next time you two were to hang out.

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @kenpachisbrat

@marikuchanxo @harlekin6 @gennaray

@markleeisdabestdrug @entirelysein-e. @sugurusprettygirl

MDNI and support banners by @/benkeibear

Masterlist

A couple of weeks have gone by since the last time you and Kento have hung out. You two keep in contact in class and through texting. Lately your conversations have been a lot more flirty than usual. Safe to say that the two of you see each other more than just friends who have fooled around a bit.

Your heart races every time you see him. His knees feel weak whenever you laugh at his jokes. The two of you are becoming quite smitten for one another. It was becoming harder and harder to deny the attraction that was building there.

The more you two spent time together, the more you found yourselves making up something to ensure you'll have more time together. Even in class, you two partner up for every project. You find yourself wondering when you’ll finally go on that date you two spoke of the last time you were intimate together.

And Kento finds himself too nervous to bring it up again. He thinks it was some sort of pipe dream that will never come to fruition. Still, he holds onto hope that maybe you’ll ask him out one day.

That day does come. It’s a Friday and classes are about to be let out for the day. You’re giddy to spend some time not studying and not worrying about any upcoming tests. It’s just going to be you, your couch and a bunch of junk food. But that’s when you spot Kento on your way towards the dorms. You then realize it’s the perfect time to ask him out on that date.

He sits by the vending machines. You sit next to him, noticing the adorable half-smile on his face. He looks at you and his smile spreads across his face.

“Hey are you busy tonight?” you ask him.

He shakes his head. “Nothing planned for this evening. Why?”

“Would you like to go get dinner together? I think we did talk about this the last time we hung out.”

His cheeks and tops of his ears go pink. “S-sure! Yeah, that sounds good.”

You two make plans to meet at the front entrance in about an hour. Kento mentions a cute noodle shop that opened up near campus a few months ago that he’s been dying to try. And with your plans made, you part ways.

Your heart is fluttering in your chest as you walk back to your dorm room. Kento spends a long time debating what he’s going to wear. You take a quick shower and spend time doing a little makeup.

Finally it's time to meet up. You walk towards the front entrance of the university. Your heart is racing as you try to calm yourself. You find Kento in the entryway, doing the same. He’s trying so desperately to take deep breaths and he’s pacing the floor. You smirk as you walk over to him.

“Hey cutie,” you call out. He whips around to face you. 

“H-hey! Ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

You look stunning. He doesn’t quite understand why you want to spend time with him like this. He doesn’t find himself to be anything special. The coolest thing about him happens to be the one thing he has to hide from you. If you found out that he was a Jujutsu Sorcerer, he’s sure you’d probably shun him and never speak to him again.

“Earth to Kento!” You wave your hand in his face, breaking him from the spell of being zoned out.

He chuckles softly, “S-sorry! Let’s go.”

He takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. It feels natural but there’s a nervous feeling with each action you two do that makes you feel like a real couple. 

The conversation starts off small. Just little tidbits about class and the homework. He guides you towards the noodle shop. He’s excited to spend this evening with you. The bigger prospect of it all is if he can finally return the favor.

Since the last time you went down on him, Kento has been watching lots of videos on how to go down on a girl. He’s been jerking off to videos of girls getting their pussies licked, wishing he could be the one doing it to you. Even just thinking about it, he has to push all these dirty thoughts away,

You two arrive at the shop, and he finds you both a cute booth in the back. A waitress arrives to take some drink orders and then gives you a few moments to peruse their menu. Kento looks over at you from across the table and the minute your eyes lock, you notice just how much he’s smitten about you. You feel the same way about him.

The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take Kento’s recommendation on some yakisoba noodles with pork cutlets. He orders the same for himself. The two of you wait in anticipation for the delicious food that’s about to be served.

“It smells so good in here,” you comment.

Kento nods. “Yeah, I knew I really wanted to come try it. One of my friends recommended this place.”

Something about this comment makes you feel jealous. You know you shouldn’t be jealous of someone you don’t know, but this is a friend that Kento has never mentioned to you. And though you two aren’t that close, you two have become closer than before. Close enough to call you good friends. Good friends who like to fool around and give each other oral sex.

You manage to change the subject to something else. The topic turns to anime, homework and music. You and Kento have an easy time talking about the things you love. It never really occurs to you that you two enjoy infodumping on one another. It’s sweet in its own way.

The food is delicious. The sauce in the noodles is spicy and the pork cutlets are tender and juicy. Kento orders some dessert afterwards to go. He’s excited to maybe be able to wrap this up nicely back at your place.

Once the bill has been taken care of thanks to your gentleman of a date, he asks if you’d like to split the dessert back at your place. You agree happily, almost oblivious to what he promised you the last time he was over at your place.

The walk back is filled with jokes, laughter and soft flirting. Kento has you in tears from laughing so hard agt his silly jokes. Despite his usual stoic and sullen manner, he is quite funny when he comes out of his shell.

“You know,” he chuckles. “With the way this evening has gone, one might think we’re dating now.”

Your cheeks redden, “Who’s to say we aren’t?”

You tug him closer to you, kissing him softly. He smiles and the butterflies erupt in his tummy. He finally gains a little courage and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“When we get back to your place, I’d like to return the favor from last time.”

Your knees buckle a little at the husky tone of his voice. You look into his eyes and see how they’ve darkened. You nod your head, taking him by the hand and leading him back to the dorms.

Kento doesn’t remember the last time he was this excited for something. He knows he’s prepared well, but nothing can fully prepare him for what’s to come. He wants to make sure you are so comfortable and happy.

Once inside your dorm, Kento doesn’t hesitate to kiss you. He leads you to the couch, pushing you back gently. His hands are gentle but eager as he pushes up your skirt. His eyes widen a little when he notices the cute little wet patch on your panties.

With the dessert long forgotten, Kento reaches up to hook two fingers into the waistband of your panties. You’re trying not to pant too much, but you don’t even remember the last time a guy went down on you.

“I…I obviously have never done this before.” Kento confesses, though he knows you won’t judge him. “So please, guide me. Tell me what feels good and what I’m doing wrong.”

You look down at him and nod your head, promising to guide him to the best of your capabilities. He pulls down your underwear, and he gets a small whiff of your scent. A low moan rumbles from his chest before he spreads your thighs. Without thinking too much, he pockets your panties.

He’s analyzing you for a moment. You squirm under his gaze before he leans in. His lips are soft as he presses kisses to your inner thighs. Kento slowly makes his way towards your pussy. He’s watched the videos. He’s studied them closely. Now he can do his best, just for you.

What catches him off guard is how good you taste the minute his tongue presses against your folds. You taste musky and tangy, but there’s a sweetness hidden there. He grunts as the flavor takes over anything else. His cock hardens quickly before he can do anything else.

You reach down to gently play with his hair. You’re ready to give advice. Much to your surprise, Kento seems very proficient in what he’s doing. He laps at you slowly, softly. He avoids the clit for a bit, preferring to circle around it to tease you.

“Kento,” you whine. “D-don’t tease me.”

But he’s determined to make you feel so good. He wants you to come undone so beautifully just for him. His eyes snap up to watch you, making sure you’re still doing alright. That’s when he wraps his lips around your swollen nub, and you let out the cutest little whine.

Grunting softly, Kento suckles on your clit with a pressure you never even knew could exist for this activity. He flicks his tongue over the bud in his mouth, noticing what patterns you enjoy the most. Your thighs are already shaking, and his cock is throbbing painfully in his skinny jeans.

Your fingers tug on his hair a little, and he smirks when he feels you grinding against his tongue. He lets go of your clit; he takes a few long, languid licks through your folds before dipping down to taste you straight from the source.

This is what sets Kento off. Your tangy nectar is like an aphrodisiac to him. It’s making his brain all fuzzy with lust. His tongue plunges into you; moans are rumbling from his chest. He’s growing even more aroused than he thought he would from the simple act of tasting you and making you feel good.

His thumb comes up to begin rubbing your clit slowly. He remembers what he saw in all those videos. And then he begins to feel your thighs clenching around him, and this makes him even more excited. His eyes snap up to watch you come undone on his tongue.

“Kento,” you moan loudly. “I’m really close.”

He doesn’t even need to hear more. His tongue laps up to your clit where he pulls it between his lips and sucks on it like before. His fingers come down to your hole and he pushes one of them into you. Your eyes roll back as the pleasure just keeps building.

The room is filled with your breathy moans, the wet sounds of him sucking on your clit and the squelching of your wet pussy. It takes just a few more pumps of his fingers and a stroke of his tongue for you to fall off the edge with a loud cry of his name.

He doesn’t stop; instead he focuses on pulling the most pleasure from you. His mind is so dizzy, his eyes heavy with lust as he continues to pleasure you. Kento then begins to lap at your hole once he pulls his fingers from it. You’re dribbling pure honey to him. 

Your thighs are shaking and you shudder as you’re trying to come down from the best orgasm you’ve ever had. You reach down to push him away gently and he whines at the loss of contact. He looks up at you with a feral look in his eyes, wiping away the juices from his lips. You notice just how hard he is.

This is when you maneuver him to lay back on the couch, and you unbuckle his belt. Kento’s eyes widen when you pull his cock out and wrap your lips around him.

“Just relax,” you say in a husky tone. “Let me show you just how much I appreciated every moment of that.”

[moog-rt]

Man or Monster

[Frankenstein’s Monster!Shigaraki x Reader]

♡ ♡ ♡

The moon is full, but the village below is none the wiser as black clouds blanket the sky, moonlight replaced by lightning, streaking and cracking endlessly through the night. Beyond the village is a steep, rocky hill, and atop that hill sits a lonely stone tower, teetering on the edge of collapse.

Metal rods protrude from the rooftop, creaking and groaning as they’re thrashed by the harsh winds, and they lead to a large complex machine within. At its center is a glass tank filled to the brim with pigmented fluid, which, occasionally, spills over the rim as gusts slip through gaps in the stone walls. It produces a subtle glow, illuminating the room just enough to see the Doctor’s expression–lips taught, creases between his brows, lower eyelids squinting slightly, framing his intense stare.

It mirrors your own but for very different reasons, you’re sure. The Doctor is leaning forward, propping himself up with a splintering wooden chair. His grip on it is tight, but his fingers continue to fidget. Then there’s you, slightly shrinking into yourself, holding your writing paper to your chest as if it's a shield. Your pounding heart is intensifying by the second.

This isn’t the first time this experiment has been conducted, and at this rate, you’re fairly certain it won’t be the last. Every attempt so far has failed. You’re used to that being the case by now, but it’s those few times…those few times where a ‘failure’ gets a little further than the others. That is the outcome you stress over most.

That outcome means you won’t be leaving the laboratory unscathed.

The silence between the two of you is filled with the howling and rumbling of the storm outside. Each bolt of lightning lights up the chamber, and your heads jerk up to stare intently at the murky tank. Each time, you’re plunged back into the dark with only the slightest bit of light emanating from the vat of chemicals.

There’s a flash and crack so loud you feel it in your bones. The floor is shaking beneath your feet and you barely catch the jagged streaks of electricity coursing through the metal rods and into the machine. It fully illuminates the tank to reveal the silhouette of a man suspended within, back arching as the lightning rushes through it.

The machine groans as metal grinds against metal and smoke puffs from the joints in the piping. The various parts appear to slump as they make one last creak before going quiet.

The tension in your body dissipates–another failed test.

Your back straightens, and you release a shaky breath as you look down at your papers. You’ll have to write up a report identical to a dozen others. You think you prefer it that way. Slouching, the Doctor slowly lets go of the chair and mutters curses as he turns around to go back to his work desk.

The silence returns, this time filled with both disappointment and relief.

The next few days will be filled with repairs. You walk forward to disengage some of the mechanical components, releasing some of the built up pressure within the pipes. The rusted knobs are cold and rough, and they squeak loud and unpleasantly as you turn them.

Maybe that’s why you don’t notice the massive glass tank judder behind you.

You’re walking back to the Doctor when you hear a deep pop followed by a crack from behind you. You spin around just in time to see the tub falling from its metal frame. The pipes that were previously attached to it are showering the room with chemicals, filling it with a pungent odor–sulfuric.

Alarmed, you shout for the Doctor as you rush forward in an attempt to stabilize the tank, an absurd decision on your part. The only way that ends is with you being crushed beneath it.

It crashes against the floor before you can even reach it. The liquid spills over the rim just before the glass shatters. You step on the pieces and slip. The ground is hard and cold when you collide with it. Your head is spinning, and you get to your hands and knees just to be knocked onto your back by the body–the failed Nomu.

You’re sprawled out, clothes and hair thoroughly saturated as the body lays across your lap and lower abdomen. As you prop yourself up a harsh chill racks through your body from the feeling of the naked hodge podge of corpses on top of you; it’s cold and stiff. You hesitantly reach out to push it away but pause before running your thumb across the deep stitched up incisions that wrap around its arm. You remember how it felt to weave a needle through the tough, dead skin, much more difficult than working with something still alive.

A low moan emits from the Nomu, your hand freezes, then it shifts in your lap, head rolling to the side to face you. Its eyes blink open to reveal blood-red irises, a slight haze of white film making them appear cloudy. You get the sense its looking through you until they flicker up to meet your gaze, and you go tense.

Then it winces and curls in on itself, releasing an even louder, strained groan. Your heart is battering against your ribs, but you gentle rub the creature’s arm in an attempt to soothe it. Its arm lifts to grasp onto your shirt.

You hear loud footsteps splashing over to you, and the Nomu is yanked off and away from you.

“It’s–I–I think it’s–”

“It’s alive…” the Doctor finishes your sentence for you, face alight with excitement.

You don’t get even a moment of reprieve as he ushers you into action, ordering you to take his place as the Nomu’s crutch. Eyebrows pinched, those red eyes never leave you, even as soaked powder-blue hair falls in front of them. You find your place against its side, arms wrapped around its waist to keep it from teetering. It’s shivering.

The Doctor is talking to himself, boasting about his success and how eager he is to report the good news. He examines the Nomu as you keep it from collapsing, and you startle when you feel its arm press against your back. You get the sense that it’s trying to mimic the way you’re holding it, and your eyebrows twitch.

You’re too focused on the creature to realize the exam is complete and the Doctor is taking his leave. You only snap back when he orders you to move his new creation somewhere it can be contained.

He also gives it a name. Tomura.

You do as you’re told, carefully shuffling the weak Nomu–Tomura–out of the lab and down the narrow staircase. The first few steps are challenging to coordinate, and your bodies bump against each other as you struggle to stay in sync. Gaps in the wall meant to let in light during the day now allow gusts of wind to blow through, whipping your hair against your face.

Gradually, you make your way down to one of the few unoccupied chambers that isn’t actively crumbling away. It’s cold and damp from the gaps in the stone wall that fail to separate indoor and outdoor conditions. There’s a constant whistle from the wind sweeping across the exterior of the tower.

You don’t recall a time when this room was in use, so it is no surprise that there are no lamps or candles to shed light across these dingy walls. The only things you in here with you are a wooden bedfram and a secretary desk, both rotting away.

You lead Tomura to the bed for him to sit, and as you bend over to make the transition a little easier, he becomes off balance. He stumbles and, because of the way you’re latched onto each other, so do you. The wood creaks, giving way slightly as you collapse onto it together in a heap.

Tomura releases a soft groan as you attempt to clamber off of him, careful of your hand placement as you do so. You adjust him so he’s sitting up, albeit a bit slumped, and watch him for a moment.

His skin is a mosaic of stitched-up incisions, each piece a slightly different shade, but everything about him contains a sickly undertone. His head hangs but his eyes are open and staring back at you. You feel small and vulnerable under his gaze, and your breathing is shaky as you shift closer to move him so he’s lying down instead.

You’ve done as you were told, so there’s no reason for you to linger–part of you is eager to leave and let this night be over with–but you decide to sit with him for a while longer, for observation purposes. At first, you feared he would be hostile, but from what you’ve seen thus far, he appears to be docile.

You brush his wet bangs out of his face to look closer at his eyes. At some point the white film faded, leaving his irises more vivid than you imagined. You’re disappointed and confused when he shuts them. You notice your hand is still entangled in his hair and quickly draw back. Tomura grunts, and his eyebrows slowly press together. It almost looks like he’s frowning.

The room is cold. You can’t imagine how Tomura must feel without any clothes, and you wonder just how much he’s capable of processing external stimuli. You should get him something to cover up and stay warm with, just in case he’s cold, too.

Opening his eyes, Tomura finds the strength to push himself up and groans out when you stand up and walk to the door. It’s hard not to notice the way the rise and fall of his chest quickens the further away you get. He starts shifting to the edge of the bed.

“No,” you say quickly, and he pauses. “I need to go.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he makes a disgruntled noise in response before sliding a leg off the bed frame.

“No,” you repeat and walk over to move him back. “I’ll be back.”

You wait for any sort of response from him, but he’s silent and still even as you leave the room. You hurry further down the tower, your footsteps echoing through the staircase, until you reach the room the Doctor has lent out to you as you help him with his research. It’s smaller than the one you found for Tomura, but you don’t mind much. You pull a basket holding a stack of extra linens out from underneath your bed and gather them into your arms.

You try to be swift as you ascend back up the tower to return to Tomura’s chamber, but the sound of clattering urges you to go even quicker. You come to a clumsy halt when you see Tomura stumbling past his doorway. His eyes are wide and his facial features have contorted into something harsh and unpleasant. A shiver crawls its way down your spine.

You’re hesitant to call out. “Tomura.” His eyes dart over to look down at you, and you frown. “You need to go back inside.” You’re not sure how much he truly understands, but you try to reason with him anyway.

His hunched shoulders heave as he sucks in a deep breath and takes an unsteady step in your direction. His legs buckle, and he crumbles against the stone wall but continues to inch in your direction. The hairs on the back of your neck rise, partly due to the cold that creeps its way through the halls of the tower and partly due to your nerves.

Tomura huffs as he reaches the first step leading down to you, and you urge yourself to do something other than just stand there. Your quick steps echo off the stone as you rush to him before he stumbles closer.

He pauses when you stop just in front of him, reaching out as far as you can without letting the linens drop to the damp floor. He copies you, hand hovering in the space between the two of you. You stare at it then look up at him. At some point, his expression softened, eyelids more relaxed and lips lifted from their earlier grimace, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him.

You take his outstretched hand and move around him to give a gentle tug towards his room. He doesn’t put up a fight and lets you direct him back inside. You let him go to close the heavy wooden door behind you and place the stack of blankets on top of the desk, giving them a soft pat to flatten them out.

You don’t need to hear him to know Tomura is looming behind you, his presence thick and potent. Taking a sheet from the top of the stack, you face Tomura and hold it out, offering it to him. He looks down then back at you.

You raise your hands a little higher and say in a soft tone, “These are for you.”

He raises his arms up in a way that makes you think he’s mirroring you rather than understanding what you want from him. Still, you place the sheet in his hands and grab another for yourself, walking over to lay it across the bed frame for cushioning. Tomura follows you over and drops his sheet onto the bed in a crumpled ball on top of the one you neatly laid out.

You cover your mouth to stifle a surprised laugh and glance up at him with crescent eyes. He looks back at you, and the corners of his mouth twitch into an unnatural grin. His lips are dry and look as though they might crack if he smiles any wider.

You continue to make him a bed to the best of your ability, handing him a few more blankets as you go just for him to toss them like he did with the first one. You wonder if it’s to get a reaction out of you like before, but last you checked, the Nomu aren’t supposed to have that much cognitive freedom. The Doctor is creating them to take orders, and that’s it.

As the wind continues to whistle across the exterior of the tower, you can’t help but think it might be nice to have another person to talk to. It’s only you, the Doctor, and whoever the Doctor reports to here. Socializing is a foreign thing within these walls.

It’s lonely.

“Tomura,” you say as you lay out the final thick blanket across the rest, “Do you want to sit down and try it out?”

He looks at you, then the bed, then you again. You sit down to show him what you mean, and he follows suit, the bed creaking under his weight.

“How do you like it? Comfier now, isn’t it?” You smile at him, even though it’s likely you’re just talking to a wall. You can still see goosebumps across his forearms and decide you’ll wrap him up next. It’s a little awkward being around a naked man anyways, regardless of his condition.

“To—To—” his voice comes out as an unsteady rasp. His vocal chords were stripped from a corpse, so that doesn’t come as much of a surprise. What does, however, is that he can talk at all.

“Tomura,” you finish hesitantly, assuming that’s what he’s trying to say. You stay quiet for him to respond, but he doesn’t.

You breathe out a soft sigh and grab one of the wadded blankets he dropped earlier. As you rise to your knees to wrap it around him, you feel heat radiating from his body. As you adjust it, his skin gives, no longer stiff with rigor mortis.

Your brows furrow, and you don’t miss the way he does the same. You purse your lips before sitting back, earning a huff from Tomura. He frowns, bottom lip pouting, subtle enough for you to miss.

There are a few uncomfortable moments of silence where the two of you stare at each other and do nothing else. You’re each waiting for the other to act first, and eventually, you give.

“Tomura,” you repeat, glancing to the side. He takes in a sharp breath, and when you look back at him, his features have relaxed some. You release a shaky exhale and reach towards him to adjust the blanket so it covers his lap for modesty. Your hands linger as you elaborate, “That’s you.”

His chest swells beneath your fingertips. “You.”

You lean back again, and his eyes narrow. It’s unnerving, and you retract a hand but leave the other to press firmly against him—against his chest, where his beating heart hides behind skin, bone, and muscle.

“You—” Your fingers give a gentle tap. “—You are Tomura.”

He frowns again, and this time, you copy him, hand slowly pulling away.

“You,” he says again with a voice that puts the wind and thunder to shame. Your heart lurches when he throws a hand into your chest, knocking you backwards onto your palms.

You figure the moment of peace is over and begin scooting away. The Nomu before him, the ones who also had brief moments of life, were mellow at first, too.

Until they weren’t.

He leans forward to grab you by the shoulder and pull you back to him as if you weighed nothing. Your breathing is rapid and your heart pounds in your ears as you clutch to his arm with trembling hands. You’re trying to pry him away, but he doesn’t so much as budge. He glowers down at you through his tangled bangs, eyes wavering between yours.

“You.” There’s nuance behind his voice, a demand, maybe even curiosity. Your eyes widen and lips part. He does understand.

He does…

Your vice-like grip on him loosens as your body relaxes. You tell him your name, and his eyebrows rise.

Then, he says it back. His hand releases you and glides down to hold your arm so gently you almost can’t feel it. His breathing slows in sync with yours as his rough thumb brushes against your skin. He repeats your name once more under his breath, eyelids lowered and a ghost of a smile on his lips.

[chaotic-scraps]

Part 1 Part 2

The Beast (Part 3)

The henchmen dragged the hero out to the hall by their collar, snarling and snapping. They tried unsuccessfully to wrestle them onto a gurney, the hero's panic only matched by their raw fury. The villain watched on with a reverent fascination.

The hero glared with wild eyes as the villain calmly approached.

"Darling, you'd best behave." The villain reached to brush the hero's face. "I'd hate to muzzle such a gorgeous creature."

The hero growled in challenge.

"You want to be human again, don't you?"

An uncertain whine.

"Yes, that's right. I can help you if you stop fighting me."

This was a mistake. This was a huge mistake, the hero thought frantically. If the villain made them human, they would not let them go free.

Who else would help them, though? The Agency? Their understaffed, in-network hospital? They could be stuck like this the rest of their life. They had to trust that they would have a shot at escaping later.

The hero swallowed hard and laid back on the gurney.

"I thought so."

The henchmen exchanged glances and clamored to affix the straps. They pushed the gurney into a cold and sterile room. An exhaust fan whined in the corner. Surgical equipment laid out on a small table.

"Don't worry, darling, we're just running some tests today," the villain said, pulling out a small razor. They trimmed small patches of fur and grabbed a syringe.

The hero tried to pull away, but the straps were firm. They felt the telltale prick, and squeezed their eyes shut.

"Blood sample," the villain explained. They filled several vials.

The henchmen pulled up some kind of machine and stuck little wires all over the hero's arms and legs. The villain typed something into a laptop and the hero felt another prick.

"You'll tell me if you feel something, won't you, darling?"

A jolt shot through their arm. The hero yelped.

"Good. Very good."

Another prick. Jolt. The hero's eyes watered. This went on for a while.

"No discernible nerve damage," the villain said, very pleased. "Excellent response time."

They continued to poke and prod them for a while, looking at their teeth, shining a light in their eyes, feeling the pads of their palms.

"You're not claustrophobic, are you?"

The villain began wheeling them towards a narrow tube-shaped device. The hero began to struggle again.

The hero had been in vents and crawl spaces and tight corridors before. They'd encountered walls that closed in on them, been trapped in a sinking car, and once had to be cut out of a drainage pipe by a rescue team.

All these experiences did not do favors to their anxiety response. They began struggling despite themselves, the straps digging into their flesh.

There was a high beeping noise beside them. Their heartbeat was being monitored. When did that happen.

The villain stopped the gurney. "Sh, shhh-sh, hush now, you're safe."

The hero struggled, because no they certainly were not, half the times they were trapped in dangerous situations was thanks to the villain--

Another prick.

"Rest now," The villain said, petting them gently.

The hero awoke back in their kennel. They had no idea how much time had passed. They felt a pain in the back of their head.

Stitches.

What had villain done while they were out?

Part 4

AN// Thank you for reading and asking to be tagged @sausages-things and I hope you enjoyed! If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! (or if you want to be removed, please also don't hesitate to let me know!) I'm hoping to finish part 4 in the next couple of weeks!

[gardens-light]

Farmhouse Rendezvous

Due to the humans betrayal, the Autobots remain separated from one another and forced into hiding.

Yet within the chaos Crosshairs remembers a time where he found unexpected refuge on a quiet farm—and in your arms, who offers him peace he never thought he deserved. As tension simmers into slow-burning romance, the fragile peace is shattered by familiar faces from your past. With secrets exposed and loyalties tested, Crosshairs must choose between retreating to survive or risking everything for the one human who made him feel alive. In the quiet before the storm, one truth remains—some sparks never fade.

Song Inspired: The Machine- Reed Wonder ft Aurora Olivas

Content: Events takes place a year before 'Transformers- Age of Extinction. Mild-Coarse Language. Slow Burn. Fluff/Smut. F receiving oral. Creampie. P in V. Autobot Crosshairs x F/Human Reader.

Word Count: 10K

"We-have to- stay!" Bumblebee's voice buzzed, his radio switching between stations as he squared up to Hound. "It's what- Optimus would- of wanted!"

"I don't remember anyone putting you in charge." Hound challenged, pushing the yellow scout away from him. "Just because you're soft on the meat-bags, doesn't mean we all are!"

Bee quickly caught his balance, avoiding of tumbling into the nearest boulder. "They're- just scared! Humanity is- capable of- so much- more!"

"Ah! They're assholes! The whole lot of them!-"

"Will you two pipe down!" Crosshairs snapped, barely looking over his shoulder as he cleaned the barrel of his blaster. "Can't bloody hear myself think."

"You thinking?" Hound briefly raised an optic ridge at Bumblebee, before turning back to Crosshairs. "Now that's dangerous."

An uncharacteristic silence radiated from the green Autobot. His shoulders slumped over causing his posture to slouch even more, his optics fixated upon the handle of his weapon. Cradling a pair of human-sized military dog tags within the palm of his servo. Staring at the unusual accessory with a sense of longing, a low sigh rumbling deep within his chest.

Hound studied his comrade's posture, "what's gotten under your plates?"

"Nothin..." Crosshairs' thumb trailed down the tags, as if he was caressing a lovers cheek. Before sheathing his blaster back into his back plates, his optics looking out at the horizon. The settling sun casting shadows over the desert landscape, while the colours of blue, orange and pink painted the sky. "Just... thinkin..."

One Year Ago

A low hiss escaped Crosshairs' lips as pain shot throughout his entire frame. Tightly pressing a servo against his mid-section, energon seeping between his digits with each step.

"Hound? Bumblebee? Come in- Ah!-"

Fucking humans! Damaging my comlink!

The distant sound of the military SUV's came to his audio receptors. A deep groan rumbled within his throat, forcing his already exhausted body to continue further into the rolling hills of the countryside. His optics scanning for something, anything that could potentially hide him as he towered over the treetops.

"Autobots?! Anyone?- Ah!"

---

The ground trembled beneath you, as something heavy thunderously fell against the hill just behind the trees of your ranch.

"Easy. Easy" your calming voice soothed, attempting to settle the spooked horses as their plowing came to a halt. "It's alright. You're alright."

What... was that? Your questioning gaze looked up at the boundary of your property line. It felt way too heavy for a fallen tree...

With the horses finally settled, you carefully and cautiously approached the tree line. Raising an eyebrow as the sound of painful groans filled the air.

"Holy... shit..."

Crosshairs' helm rolled to the side as he laid upon his back. His optics eyeing your approach with a mixture of caution and curiosity. His wrist flicking the barrel of his blaster in your direction, but his expression softens slightly as he sees your wide eyes fix upon his wounded side.

"Hold it right there!" his voice lined with a gravelly and tense tone, as a low growl escaped him. "What do you want?"

Far in the distance behind Crosshairs', the voices of the military filled the air. Your eyes flickered between their direction and the Autobot, as he pressed his servo harder against his mid-section.

If... the military is the cause of his injuries. Then... it's only a matter of time before they reach here... A sympathetic tug pulled upon your heartstrings, as you heard another painful groan escape Crosshairs. And they'll eliminate him for good...

"Autobot?... Or Decepticon?"

His skeptical gaze narrowed onto you. "Do these colours look like Decepticon scum to you?!-"

"Then come with me."

"And why should I trust you?" a hint of suspicion lined Crosshairs' tone, his optics studying you intently. "You could be leading me into a trap!"

"Cause, it's either you trust me. Or... go offline..."

The Autobot grinded his dentas, punching the ground in frustration and anger. "Fine!"

Crosshairs begrudgingly sheathed his blaster into his back plates. Struggling onto his knees as energon continued to weep between his digits. Fuel dripped and sputtered onto the grass, as it weeped out of the bullet holes all over his frame.

Crosshairs crawled over the tree line, knocking down branches and rusting half the leafs off. Pain ached through his frame, his systems ringing in his audio receptors as his levels closely reached critical.

"Come on! Come on!-"

"Will ya shut your trap! You try moving with your insides spilling out!" Crosshairs' annoyed gaze flickered towards you, as you quickly approached your horses. Raising an optic ridge, as you untied them from the plow. "W-What are you?-"

"Lay on your back. They'll pull you."

With another grind of his dentas, Crosshairs grudgingly laid down making sure his helm was close to the horses. His warily and sceptical gaze studied you, as if he tried to guess your intentions. His breath hitching in pain, as you tied the ropes to his shoulders. The Autobot tried to occasionally either put most of his weight upon his tires, or shuffle his pedes along the dirty field. In attempt to assist the horses in pulling his two tone weight.

---

Now hidden in the safety of your barn, untying the ropes around his shoulders, you released and encouraged the tired horses to rest in their stables at the back of the barn.

"Quick! Tell me your stats!"

"E-Energon levels... 57%... a-and falling." Crosshairs' muttered through clenched dentas, as he leaned heavily against the wall. Raising an optic ridge while watching you harshly kick away straw and hay, revealing a hidden trap door.

His gaze flickers within confusion and curiosity, as you pull out an old military duffle bag. Parts of him tensed up as the sound of metal tools clanged together, as you yanked it out from underneath the floorboards. His frame already trembling from the effort of sitting upright.

"What's all that stuff?"

You felt his suspicious gaze follow you drag the duffle bag towards his wound side. Ignoring his question you asked, "which fuel line is damaged?"

An annoyed huff escaped his lips, "it's the... primary energon cable. The one on my right side-ah! Damn thing's cut deep!"

Grasping the necessary tools while your thoughts calculated the damage. Tying your hair up as your eyes flickered up at him, "sounds like you need a manual repair." His optics slightly widened, as you removed your jacket, exposing your crop top. "I'm... gonna need to climb inside you."

"Are you outta your damn mind?!" Crosshairs' growled, his frame tensing up at the thought. "That's insane!. You're... a human! You... You can't climb inside me!-"

"Stay till and shut up! Keep pressure on that wound!" You snapped. Quickly approaching his right side, briskly removing the access panel just under his wound.

His optics flickered with discomfort as your hand lightly brushed against his sensitive inner circuits. Glancing down at you as to study your critical gaze.

"Hold on." You briefly met his gaze, your tone a bit more softer this time. "Things are... gonna get uncomfy for a moment."

Crosshairs' grumbled in protest as you carefully climbed inside him, causing his frame to hum and shudder as you squeezed between his wires and cables. Feeling every movement you made, while trying to reach the inside of his wounded circuits.

Your eyes widened as you saw the damaged cable. Multiple puncture wounds pierced through the wire, causing blue energon to sweep through the cracks of his metal plating and drip over his digits. More dripped down his inner circuits. Carefully pulling the tools you shoved into your jean pockets, you started patching up the cable. Attempting to avoid energon getting onto your hands.

The green Autobot shivered as you pressed yourself against his inner circuits, causing a jolt of a... almost pleasurable sensation run throughout his entire body every time you breathed. Feeling every feathered touch, every stuttle movement. Both sensations surprisingly not uncomfortable and... oddly... intermate.

His optics rolled, as he gently rested his helm against the wall. Th-This shouldn't feel-

"Stats!" you called from the inside. Frustration lining your tone as another leakage pooled out of the cable.

"43% a-and... falling."

Shit! If I don't get this fixed soon, he'll be close to critical levels! A heavy sigh escaped your slightly parted lips. Damn it... looks like I'm just gonna have to-

Crosshairs' flinched as your sudden scream filled his internals, the sound like a piercing shockwave throughout his frame. His optics widening as he felt your hand clamp around his broken cable.

"What are you doing in there?! You're burning yourself!"

"I-I'm fine! Just... shut up and keep still!" biting your bottom lip, as you attempted to hold back hisses of pain. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, as the blue energon spluttered against your skin. Burning your palm, fingers and the back of your knuckles, as your free hand continued to fix the cable.

"You're hurting yourself, damn it! Stop!" his gruff voice was laced with a hint of worry.

Crosshairs felt the tremors within your wounded hand, as it remained clamped upon his broken cable. The sensation causing his internals to hum in response. His audio receptors picking up your pained gasps, and the soft pitter-patter of your tears falling onto his metal frame.

His spark only stopped aching once your grip released the cable, a heavy sigh of relief escaping him, his internals relaxing once the sensation of your touch disappeared.

"Stats!" you hissed in pain, carefully climbing back out of him.

"Energon levels, 36% and steady." his gruff tone muttered. Optics flickering at your burned hand, noticing the red rawness appearing upon your fingers and knuckles. "Damn it... look what you've done to yourself."

"I-I'm fine." Pain lined your tone as you spoke through your teeth. Cradling your injured hand close to your chest, brushing tears away from your cheeks with your free hand. "I... need to weld you close."

"You're not fine. You've burned you damn hand! Let me see it-"

"I-I ah! Need to get my welding equipment. It's in my shed-"

You flinched as Crosshairs reached out and rested his servo in front of you, blocking your attempt to walk away. "You're not going anywhere! You can't weld my frame closed with one hand. Just... let me see it."

You tried to give him a convincing smile, "not the first time I welded with one hand. Won't be the last."

His optics narrowed at you in annoyance, "that... doesn't make it any better."

Crosshairs gaze softened as you hesitantly held out your injured hand, as a sigh of defeat escaped you. Sitting himself up right again, cradling your hand upon the pad of his index digit. "Shit... You really did a number on yourself."

A weak smile came to your lips, "not the first time I got burnt by energon."

His optics flickered at you with a questionable gaze, as he used his thumb to spray antiseptic upon your hand. A low irritated growl rumbled within his throat, his optics trailing down your neck and resting upon your necklace.

"Those dog tags... they're military." His gruff tone dripping with irritation. "You work for them... don't you?"

"I did... but... that was a long time ago."

"What you mean... 'did'?" he raised an optic ridge. A underlying hint of curiosity hid within his voice. "You're... no longer a soldier?"

You nervously licked your lips. "I... was... discharged when N.E.S.T was forced to shut down."

Crosshairs pause, "N.E.S.T...? I've... heard of them. The military division that once worked with us. So... you were a part of that?"

"Yeah. See?" reaching for your tags, showing the Autobot your name and rank engraved upon the stainless steel. "Lieutenant Echo... well, 'Echo' was just a nickname. It's just Y/N now. But like I said..." you tucked the tags back into your cleavage. "That was a long time ago. You got a name?"

"Crosshairs... and just because it's been a 'long time.' Doesn't mean I trust you."

You slowly nod, "I understand. With this civil war happening between our species, why would you trust me?" you flashed him a warm smile. "But... I just hope you'll trust me enough to nurse you back to health."

A small scoff came from him, "I don't trust you at all! But..." his gaze slightly softened, his spark slightly relaxing at the sight of your smile. "But you did help fix my energon leak... I've give you that."

You both looked at your injured hand, noticing how the antiseptic begun to take affect, already healing the burn. Causing your skin to be less red and agitated.

"Does it... hurt?" Crosshairs' tone was slightly... quieter. His voice still holding it's usual gruff but, with a more softer edge.

"No, it's getting better." Your smile became a little warmer, as your hand fell back to your side. "Are... you ok?"

"I'm fine... That energon leak was the only thing in danger of taking me offline."

"Any other damages?"

Crosshairs paused for moment, his optics flickering as he ran a quick self-diagnostic check. But only resulting to him shaking his helm, and gesturing various parts of his frame. "Minor cosmetic damages. Nothing too serious... I've been through worse."

"Have you tried contacting the Autobots?"

An annoyed sigh slipped out of him, "I haven't... been able to reach anybody. It's busted. Either that, or the pesky military assholes have put some jamming signal in the area, so I can't reach anyone."

"It's most likely busted. My ranch is on the outskirts of a nature reserve. There's nobody around for miles."

Crosshairs tilt his head as he listened to your explanation. His optics flickering with surprise and curiosity. Occasionally glancing around your barn and peeking out of the window.

"A nature reserve, eh?" He muttered but intrigue lining his voice. "That would explain why it's so quiet around here."

"It's peaceful. Away from people, it's how I like it." You spoke with a smile. "Plus, I live alone so you don't need to worry about anyone snooping in the barn... I'm happy to see if I can try and fix your com-link. But I need to weld your wounds closed first."

Crosshairs grunts in agreement,"fine. Just... try not to hurt yourself again while fixing me up... I can't have you burning yourself every time you touch me." Although his voice was reluctant, a hint of concerne lined his gruff voice.

His spark fluttered slightly as his optics drunk in your soft smile.

"Don't worry. I'll be careful." You spoke while packing up your tools and shoving them back into the military duffle bag. Kicking it back into the trap door under the barn's floorboards. "My welding equipment is in the shed. I won't be long."

Crosshairs sat alone for a brief moment, his optics roaming around the spacious barn as a heavy breath left him. His wary gaze looked down at his wound mid-section, tracing over the bullet holes through his metal frame.

This better not take long. I have to get back to the others!

The sound of your footsteps caught his attention, his optics flickering at you as he watched your approach. Just about struggling to carry the equipment you dragged beside you.

Gotta stay on guard. She could pull any dirty trick at any given time! Your soft gaze and warm smile made his spark skip a beat. Heat gently rose beneath his face plates. But then again... she is repairing me...

"You... really think you can fix my com-link?... Those guys really damaged me good."

"Honestly... I won't know till I have a look at it. But... I'm sure between us, we'll be able to figure something out." Your voice remained it's calm and gentle tone. As a hint of concern flashed across your features, looking up at Crosshairs once finishing setting up your equipment. "How... did you caught up with the military anyway?'

"Damn bastards ambushed me." Crosshairs grumbled, annoyance and anger flashing across his optics. "They were setting up some kind of operation, and I stumbled right into it! They got the jump on me before I could transform or retaliate."

A sad sigh escaped your lips, pulling your goggles over your eyes. "Sounds like the squadron that's been tasked to specifically hunt Cybertronians."

"They had those military grade energon dampers all around the place!" A small hiss escaped Crosshairs as he begun to feel your torch melt his frame close. "I couldn't transform or activate any of my weapons. I was totally defenseless! Humans are getting too damn crafty for their own good!"

"That's... because those who were with N.E.S.T... ure now apart of that task force."

Crosshairs glanced down at you, his audio receptors picking up the underlying sadness within your tone. But it didn't stop his servos clenching into fists, as anger rose within his chest.

"You mean to tell me... that the very people who worked with us. Are now the ones responsible for hunting us?!" a hint of disbelief could be heard within his growling voice.

The green Autobot grit his dentas, wincing while you worked. The heat from the torch seeping into his frame. Despite the pain, he tried to remain focused upon the convocation.

"How the hell did it come to this? Why would humans turn on us like this? And why would the N.E.S.T agents simply go along with it?!"

"Because... the government got scared of you Autobots. The destruction of cities. How your war with the Decepticons followed you to our planet. Not liking the fact that Optimus only shared a portion of your guys technology. The list goes on." A heavy sigh escaped you, sadness swelling within your heart. "But... it's all bullshit if you'd asked me."

"Damn humans!" Crosshairs gruff tone muttered, his tone full of disdain. "They're always so scared of what they don't understand. Just because we brought... some destruction with our war, doesn't make us the 'bad guys.' And those assholes in N.E.S.T... are just as bad! Playing both sides and betraying us like that!"

"Well..." Putting out your torch and removing your goggles, your gaze wondering over Crosshairs form. Double checking for any further wounds, "you guys will always have me."

As he gazed at your smile, his optics flickered as a strange pang of something soft and tender hits his spark. Crosshairs held his gaze, almost like he's searching for any hint of deception or insincerity. But... he finds none. Only replying with a grunt as his expression softens just slightly.

"You're... different from other humans." Although his voice kept it's gruff tone, his words were noticeably warmer. "Most of the humans we've encountered are either scared or hostile. But you... you're something else."

A sweet chuckle escaped your lips, "careful. Keep complimenting me like that, and I might just fall in love with you."

Crosshairs felt a strange heat creep into his frame as you chuckled. Something new and strange fluttering through his circuits. His wide-eyed stare simply watching you pack away your welding equipment, and placing it aside. His processors still spinning, as he tried to attempt to figure out his emotions. Your flirtatious joke causing him to pause, as surprise and embarrassment flashed a crossed his features.

"As if, human." He muttered, but his voice lacked the usual sharpness. "I'm... just stating a fact. Don't get cocky!"

Your eyes roamed over his form, a sweet smile tugging your lips as he avoided eye contact with you. "Sure... whatever you say."

The sunrays of dusk caught your attention, as the pink, orange and blue sky framed your barn window.

"Sorry Crosshairs, but is it alright if I take a look at your com-link tomorrow? It's getting late and I still have a few things to do around the ranch."

"Fine..." His reluctant tone sighed.

A strange spark of warmth ran through his circuits, as you placed a comforting touch to the back of his servo, accompanied with a soft kiss to his knuckles. The gentle caress of your fingers against his digits send an unfamiliar wave of emotions coursing throughout his frame.

The Autobot grunts. Still trying to maintain his usual gruff demeanor, but your words. Your touch melts something in his spark.

"Goodnight Crosshairs."

Crosshairs watched you close lock up the barn, leaving him alone in the quiet. The sound of horses settling in their stables for the night, the small barn owl up in the rafters rustling its feathers. He took a moment to process the strange and unfamiliar emotions swirling within his spark.

As the night grew quieter, Crosshairs settled back against the wall. Trying to ignore the lingering sensations of your touch and kiss.

The Next Morning

Sitting upon the ground, leaning his back struct against the large, circular hay stack which you perched a top of.

Crosshairs glanced around the field, taking in the open space and the clear sky. The sound of the wind rustling through the grass and the occasional bird call created a comfortable atmosphere. Slowly shifting his attention towards you, his gruff exterior faltering more, at the sight of your exhausted yet satisfied expression.

"So... you do all this... by yourself? Every day?" His tone still had it's soft gruff tone, but with a tinge with a hint of admiration.

"Uh-huh... Took me a while to get used to the routine, and there was some challenges. But... I'm kinda used to it by now."

His soft whistle filled the air, a flicker of respect softening his optics. "I gotta hand it to you, human... you're tougher than you look. Running this place all alone, it takes guts-"

"Y/N..." your soft tone interrupted him. Your warm smile never faltering. "The name's Y/N... and, thank you..."

"Y/N..." your name almost felt strange upon his glossa, but also igniting a small zap of affection within his spark. "How long have you been running this place?"

"Hmm...." your soft gaze looked out at the field in thought. "Five years now."

Crosshairs raised an optic ridge in surprise, another low impressed whistle came from him. As he shifted his position, turning for slightly towards you. "What made you decide to take on this place all on your own?"

"It was... passed down to me from my folks when they passed." Your eyes flickered towards the ground, a small ache tugging upon your heart. Causing your smile to fade, "I... knew it would be a struggle running this place on my own. But... I... didn't have the heart to sell it."

Crosshairs expression saddened for a moment, as he watched you look back out to the ranch. A mixture of pride, sadness and determination flashing across your features. Hesitation temporarily stole his words, while outstretching a servo towards you. The tips of his digits gently patting your back, as a weak smile came to him. "Hey... you're holding onto this place out of love... that's admirable."

"Glad one of us thinks so."

His spark clenched slightly, as the Autobot saw the hint of pain behind your weak smile.

Shit. This emotional stuff is way out of my depth... W-What can I even say that would provide comfort? Damn! For once I wish Drift was here! He'd know what to say...

"Well... somebody's gotta appreciate your stubborn determination."

With your laughter filling his audio receptors, a warm glow filled Crosshairs' internal circuits. A faint smile upon your soft lips, as you looked at him again.

"You're a tough one, aren't you? Running this place all by yourself, dealing with raging bulls and annoying Autobots, like me."

"It's... nice to have some company for a change."

His spark fluffered, as he quickly averted his gaze. Attempting to control the warmth which steadily rose to his face plates. Oh great. Just what I need... a human growing fond me...

"Come on..." You spoke with a smile. "Let's head back to the barn. I did promise to take a look at your comlink..."

---

"Fuck..."

A low sigh of frustration escaped you, as you knelt upon the barn floor. Your eyes studying the fired wires and broken circuit boards, as Crosshairs allowed you to examine his comlink, beneath the plates of his forearm.

"Primus, damn thing is fried!" Crosshairs muttered, running a quick diagnostic scan. Sitting cross-legged upon the floor. "Any chance you'll know how to fix this, Y/N?

"Three wires and two of your main circuit boards needs to be completely replaced-"

"Great... So, basically, I need a whole new comlink, huh?"

"Yeah, Ratchet's gonna need to help you with that one... but... I might have something that can temporarily botch it."

Crosshairs raised an optic ridge, as his confused gaze watched you approach the trap door which was hidden beneath the barn's floor boards.

"Back at N.E.S.T, I helped patch up the Autobots a couple of times." You explained while shoving your duffle bag aside, pulling out a large and heavy cardboard box. "And... over my time in the military, I... kinda collected their old parts."

"Autobot... parts? You've... been hoarding these?" intrigue lined his tone, as Crosshairs curious gaze watched you return with the box. Settling it between the pair of you.

"Once I had the approval from Ratchet and Optimus, of course. But yeah... I've got a whole bunch of Cybertronian stuff hidden under these floor boards-"

"Why... have you kept them...?"

A small chuckle left your lips, as you opened the box. "It's... a bad habit I got from my dad. He used to fill the attic with random boxes filled with old junk. And if you'd ever asked him why, he'd always say 'just in case.'"

Crosshairs let out a gravelly chuckle, leaning a little more forwards, his expression softer. "Sounds like your old man had a point." You noticed the hint of a smile tugging upon his lips, "can't count how many times scrap parts or junkyard finds saved our sorry asses during the war."

The pair of you rummaged through the box, occasionally picking up an item or two and studying it before chucking it back in the box.

"Some of this stuff is rusty as." Crosshairs took a couple of components, holding them up to the light. "I'm honestly not sure how useful these old parts are going to be-"

"We just need something to get a signal for a couple of moments-" your voice trailed into silence, as you pulled out an old, crumpled photo. Raising an eyebrow and tilting your head in curiosity, while carefully unfolding it.

With his interest piqued, the Autobot's optics scanned the photo. "What's that?"

"It's... me back at N.E.S.T... with my friends..." your tone was filled with nostalgia but low. A sad smile tugging at your lips, holding up the photo to Crosshairs.

His optics scanned the picture, taking in the details of you in your military uniform. Your warm smile reflecting the more innocent and carefree moment, as Bumblebee perched you upon his shoulder. His blue optics shining with happiness, as your head rested upon the side of his helm. A smug grin stretching across Ironhide's face plates, as he carefully leaned near you, holding up an impressive weapon. While Ratchet begrudging smile clearly showed his reluctance. A chuckle came to Crosshairs, as his gaze flickered towards Optimus in the background. The Prime pausing in the middle of the military hanger, an confused expression upon his face plates.

"Damn..." Crosshairs spoke with a faint smile, "you looked good in that uniform."

"Oh shut up, you charmer."

A suttle warmth slowly begun to build within his frame, as you playfully punched his knee. His spark pulsing through his wires, as his optics soaked in your flirtatious smile. A playful smirk teased the corners of his lips, once noticing the small dust of pink coating your cheeks.

"Hey... I'm just calling it like I see it." His tone teased, "you sure knew how to wear a uniform, soldier."

Bringing the photo close again, tears begun to prick the corner of your eyes. A lump forming in your throat, reading the blotchy, faded ink. "To our darling, Lieutenant Echo... from your Autobots..."

"Lieutenant Echo... that was your rank... wasn't it?" his tone was much softer now, a hint of respect and sympathy lining the edge of his voice.

You hesitated for a moment, just simply answering with a slow nod before finding your voice. "Yes... 'Echo' was just a silly nickname Bumblebee gave me. After a while... it just sticked... in the end, nearly all of the Autobots called me it."

A small chuckle escaped Crosshairs, "it's... a cute nickname. I can picture Bee coming up with something like that."

"Yeah well... nobody's called me that in years." You gave Crosshairs a weak smile, brushing the tears away from your cheeks before tucking the photo into your jean pocket.

Crosshairs' servo curled into a relaxed fist, placing a gentle knuckle of his index digit under your chin. Brining your soft gaze up to his optics once again. "Well... Echo... I know for a fact. That Bee and the others miss you- probably more than you miss them."

His spark skipped a beat, as you give him that warm, beautiful smile that he secretly loved.

With both your faces feeling warm, and shy smiles tugging upon your lips. Your attention quickly returned to the box of parts, after a couple of minutes, Crosshairs pulled out a small, slightly rusted but still operational circuit board.

"This... might work." he grumbled as he looked it over, still trying to shake off the awkwardness from earlier. " It's not a perfect match... but it should get a signal to the others."

Gently plucking the piece from his servo, you studied the piece. Nodding in agreement.

"Alright... let's see if this piece of junk will do the trick." Crosshairs extended his wrist again, retracting his plates once again. Resting his servo upon his knee, giving you easier access to his comlink as you raised onto your feet.

The Autobot watched intently as you swapped out the circuit board and tinker with his wires. Disconnecting, reconnecting and rearranging cables and wires. Hope and relief flickered across his optics, as the sound of his comlink crackling to life.

"Quickly! Give that a try." Your excited tone edged him.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Crosshairs' optics flickered with anticipation as he flipped through the channels. Hesitating for moment, before speaking into his comlink. "Uh... Autobots...? It's Crosshairs, do you copy...?"

A few moments of static passed, then "C-Crosshairs...?"

A small smile came to you as you watched his face light up with a mixture of relief and surprise. "Hound, you old bastard! It's good to hear your voice!"

A broken chuckle came from Hound, "sound off. Where's your aft at?"

"Currently sitting in the middle of nowhere." Crosshairs voice was laced with a mixture of sarcasm and amusement. "Patching up my injured aft with scraps and parts."

"Damage stats?"

"External damages' not too bad. But I've got a few busted wires and some faulty cabling. Gonna need a full tune-up once I'm back with Ratchet."

"Negative. We still... haven't found, Ratchet. But... Drift will try his best to tune ya."

W-What...? Ratchet's missing? You clenched a hand over your heart, as your worried gaze met Crosshairs'.

"What do you mean you haven't found Ratchet?!" Crosshairs concerned tone came across harsher than he intended.

"Sh-Shit's hit the ceiling since the humans have started hunting us." Although Hound's voice cracked over the comlink, the pain and hurt within his tone was clearly heard. "We... had to separate. We... still haven't heard any word from Optimus-"

Optimus?! Ratchet?! silent tears rolled down your cheeks. What's going on?... a dull ache saddened your heart. Making it sink deeper into your chest.

"Damn... things are going from bad to worse!" Crosshairs firm tone snapped you out of your daze. "And no-one's able to reach Prime or Ratchet?! This shit is getting ridiculous!"

"S-Signal's... shit, Cross... Bee and Drift is with me. O-Our location is 100 klicks outside of Las Vega's. Temporarily base is hidden in the rocky formations along Route 66-"

Crosshairs hung his head low, a frustrated sigh escaping him as the comlink suddenly went back to static.

"Hey... hey. Don't cry." He gently placed the tip of his index digit under your chin, his servo curling into a relaxed fist as you looked up at him through watery eyes. "We'll find Prime and Ratchet. They're out there, somewhere, Echo. Waiting for us to rescue them."

Taking a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself, forcing a weak smile, "well... I donno about you, but... I think a good ride and some fresh air would do us some good."

Crosshairs watched you put the old cardboard box back under the trap door. Noticing the weak smile upon your soft lips, hearing the hint of worry and concern within your words.

"A... ride, hmm?" he thoughtfully questioned. "Well... since you're up for it. I could take you for a spin."

Crouching down closer to the ground, Crosshairs' plates shifted and whirled as he changed into his altmode. Your smile growing a little wider, as he rolled out of the barn in his sleek, green and black Corvette Stingray. His paint job gleaming in the early afternoon sun, revving his engine with a loud, proud pur.

"That... never gets old."

---

The pur and rumble of Crosshairs' engine filled his interior, as you rest your forehead against the passenger window. Your soft gaze watching the fields and hills surrounding your ranch steadily roll by. The comfortable silence filled the Autobot's sensors with the sense of contentment, allowing himself to soak up moment as his scanners occasionally flickered at your peaceful expression.

"Turn right into this field." Your gentle tone interrupted the purring engine, as you lightly tapped the window.

With one smooth motion his altmode effortlessly turned into an open field, his tires softly crunching against the grass and dirt.

"See that hill? Park yourself at the bottom. I wanna show you something."

Crosshairs rolled to a gentle stop at the base of the hill, the passenger door automatically swung open for you.

"You can show yourself. Nobody's around." Your soft tone encouraged while stepping out of his altmode, gesturing for the Autobot to follow you up the hill.

After a moment of hesitation, his scanners and sensors ensuring that nobody was around. Crosshairs walked out of his altmode, his metal plates shifting and sliding into place with a whirring and clicking of hydraulics. Returning to his full height, joining you atop of the hill, speechlessly following your gaze as you perched yourself upon a large boulder.

Off in the distance, your ranch was nicely nestled among the trees and fields. The early afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, casting shadows and playing with the light across the valley. The mountains far beyond created a natural frame, making the ranch look almost picture-perfect.

A low whistle escaped Crosshairs, as he couldn't help but be awestruck by the peaceful and tranquil beauty of it all. A rare moment of calm and serenity compared to his life full of combat.

"Beautiful..."

"Whenever I felt stressed, frustrated or overwhelmed. My mum would always bring me here, we'd ride on horseback trying to beat the sunset. And... when we reached here, she'd tell me to just look at this." A small smile came to your lips. "And she'd say, 'no matter what bullshit life throws at you. Always know that it will pass. For nothing can bother you for too long, when you have this as your peace.'..

"I can see why she'd say that... it's kinda breathtaking." A contempt sigh escaped Crosshairs as he lowered himself to the ground. Shifting his seating position to be closer to you. "Your ranch... it's been in your family for a long time, hasn't it? Y'know... passed down through generations and all that."

His optics flickered towards you, watching you sit in thought for a brief moment. "I... think so...? Apparently, my grandfather brought the land. But the ranch was built by my parents."

"Must be nice... having a place like this, that's been in the family so long. To have roots..."

You raised a curious brow, sensing a hint of sadness in Crosshairs' words. "Don't... you have roots?"

He hesitated for a moment, his optics gazing back out at the scenery before him. "Roots? No, not really. I mean us- Cybertronians- we were created, not born. We don't... don't really have 'families' like you humans do." A low scoff escaped, as he spat out the last words like poison. "Hell, we don't even have a home planet anymore."

A small ache tugged upon your heartstrings, your gaze softening as you reached out for him. Shifting your position atop of the boulder, which slightly brought to his shoulders.

"Well Crosshairs... for what it's worth. You and the Autobots will always be apart of my family. And... I know everything's gone to shit right now, but... as long as I have this ranch... you guys will always have a home."

Slightly turning his helm towards you, sadness and stubbornness flashed across his optics. Looking down at your gentle touch upon his shoulder. Your words slowly sinking into his processors, feeling warmth and a... odd sensation pulse through his spark.

"You... You shouldn't just go saying things like that, y'know..." His gruffness returned to his tone of voice, but his words had a bit more choke. "We're warriors, we don't need a 'home base' like this..."

"Everyone needs a place to call home, Crosshairs-"

"A 'home base' is nothing more than a simple place, where we lick our wounds and plan operations. None of this... sentimental nonsense."

"You're one tensed Autobot, aren't you?" Raising an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

A small scoff escaped his lips, "I just don't believe in getting emotional over something so insignificant. That's all." Crosshairs raised an optic ridge as his sensors felt you shuffle around behind him. "What you up to...?"

Settling yourself behind him, shuffling closer to the boulder's edge. As you carefully slipped your fingers in between his shoulder plates, you felt Autobot involuntarily stiffen, as your fingertips started to caress his cables and wires. A smile coming to your lips, as his frame shivered under your touch.

"Hey! What-" but Crosshairs' protests dies in his throat, as his vocal processor let out a small purr.

Your smile widened slightly, watching his optics flicker as your fingers continued to gently caress his inner cables.

The sensation caused his frame to shiver again, a low involuntary rumble-pur escaping from his engine. Despite his best efforts of trying to keep his usual cool, aloof demeanor. But there was no denying the effect your touch was having on him. Crosshairs could feel the tension within his frame softening, the rigid defensive stiffness starting to melt away as your fingers gently explored him.

A low moan of satisfaction escaped him, as your soft scratching against his sensitive wires and cables sent ripples throughout his neural network. Causing his spark to pulse quicker within his circuitry, like small firecrackers bursting with excitement.

You looked down at him with a sweet smile, as he gradually leaned into your touch. A small warmth erupted the butterflies within your stomach, as his optics flickered up towards you. His expression a mixture of surprise and... dare Crosshairs admit... pleasure.

A small chuckle tickled your throat as you watched Crosshairs' optics rolled into the back of his helm. Your heart skipped a beat, as you felt the suttle pulsing vibrations of his spark. His frame slightly relaxing more as your touch continued to caress his inner cables.

The Autobot adjusted his position as he continued to lean more into your touch. Allowing your fingers trace a path over his shoulders and down towards his chassis, as he leaned his helm back a little further. Now slightly resting against the boulder, positioning himself in between your legs.

A small coat of pink dusted your cheeks, as the sound of Crosshairs' engine purred softly in response to your touch. Gentle warmth coming to your features, and a wider smile teasing the corners of your lips. As you watched the usually gruff, stoic Autobot unable to hide the pleasure you're having on him. His optics flickering slightly, as his expression betrayed the hint of vulnerability.

F-Fuck... P-Primus-

"Fast...? Or slow?"

The sound of your soothing tone pulled Crosshairs out of his thoughts, his optics flickering up towards you for a moment. Swallowing a lump in his throat, as his vocal processor giving another involuntary rumble before responding. "S-Slower... please..."

Y-Yeah... like that...

A soft sigh escaped him, as his optics fluttered shut for a moment, as your fingers continued to slowly caress his cables. His frame shuddering in response to your touch running in circular motion against cross-wires and intersections of his cables.

The sensation was gentle and controlled, sending small sparks of pleasure through his circuitry. A low, rumbling growl of content comes from his engine, as he leaned further back against the rock. Allowing himself to surrender to your feathered touch.

His servo's grips the dirt beneath him, as your fingers plucked and entangled themselves with his cords. Gently pulling and fiddling with them like strings on a guitar, sending small sparks of warmth and excitement pulsing through his frame and into his spark.

"Feel better?"

Crosshairs' frame was still thrumming with sensation, as your hands slowly trail up and away from his chassis. The feeling of your touch upon his cables and wires left him feeling more relaxed than he's been in a long, long time.

"Y-Yeah... yeah." his voice was quieter, more... sincere than usual. Devoid of its usual cocky and snarky tone, he sat up straighter, his frame no longer tensed and guarded. As he looked down at you with a sense of... warmth in his optics.

A moment of comfortable silence passed between you, the only sound of the suttle breeze swaying through the leafs. Allowing the golden glow of dusk sweep through the branches, almost highlighting the pair of you in a romantic light.

"Can we... have a photo?" A small shy tone hid behind your words, a small dust of pink still coating your cheeks. As a warm smile teased your lips, "I'd like to... have something to remember you by."

His optics momentarily widened at your request. A... photo? Never in his life would he have expected a human to ask for something like that. But... there's something about the way you looked at him. The sincerity in your eyes... Crosshairs slowly nods. A small, crooked smile tugging upon his lips, as he watched you stand up upon the boulder. Gesturing for him to come closer, pulling out your phone and setting it to 'selfie-mode.'

Kneeling towards the ground, his massive frame towering over as he positions himself within frame. The sight is almost comical, his bulky, mechanical form somewhat kneeling next to your small, curvy frame.

Your heart fluttered as you quickly turn away from the camera, briefly closing your eyes while planting a soft kiss upon his cheek. Leaving the Autobot completely caught off guard, as the camera flashes just as he feels the gentle touch, capturing the moment. Crosshairs looked down at you, his expression a mix of surprise and... something almost vulnerable. A flicker of a smile playing on both of your lips.

Pulling away from him and looking back at your screen, a chuckle escaping you, as his expression in the photo was priceless. A mixture of surprise and... affection shining in his optics. His usual tough, badass demeanor completely melted away in the moment, replaced by something almost endearing. As your free hand caressed his cheek, a smile hiding behind your kiss. With the golden dusk glow creating beautiful highlights in your hair and along his paint.

The Next Day- Late Afternoon

Crosshairs rest his back against one of the nearby trees outside the barn, watching you with a smirk as you attempt to try on his goggles. The sound of your laughter like a sweet melody to his audio receivers, crossing his arms over his chassis, as amusement flickered across his optics.

"You look ridiculous in those, y'know Toots?" his words held a tinge of affection, within his teasing tone.

The sight of your petite frame completely engulfed by the accessory. It was absurd, yet... the warmth within his spark couldn't help but find it adorable.

"No. No, wait. I think I've got it this time- oof!-"

A sudden burst of laughter escaped the Autobot, as you helplessly fell onto the grass.

"Hey, careful now." He spoke between chuckles, pushing himself away from the tree. "Those goggles weren't made for clumsy humans."

Your sweet laughter still ringing like a sweet melody, as you laid upon your back. Greeting the green Autobot with a loving smile, while he knelt beside you. His digits deftly worked to free you from the entangled mess of straps and lenses. Despite his usual gruff demeanor, there's a hint of concern as he looked down at you, sprawled out on the grass.

"You ok, Toots?"

Your chuckles and simple nod was enough to ease his aching spark. Letting out a relieved sigh while his shoulders relaxed.

"I'm tougher than you think, y'know." You spoke with a wide smile.

"Oh, I know you're tough. But you're still petite and fragile. Can't have you hurting yourself again, can we?"

"Not all of us can be made out of metal, like you Cybertronians."

A small chuckle escaped his lips, "true. But being made of metal has it's perks, we don't get broken and battered, as easily as you humans do. Plus... we Cybertronians look damn good when we're a bit battered."

Your admiring gaze followed Crosshairs' servos, as he gestured to his healed injuries. Cockily showing off his almost flawless green paint-job. "Yea... you do."

A flirtatious smile tugged upon the corners of his lips, "you're just saying that cause you like the tough, rugged look."

"What can I say? It suits you." Your words held a cheeky tone, while tucking your hands behind your head.

Another chuckle escaped Crosshairs, as he carefully settled upon his side. Propping himself up onto his elbow, resting the side of his helm upon the knuckles of his servo. His optics soaking in your soft features and warm smile. "And here I thought you enjoyed those 'pretty boy' types."

His affectionate, yet mocking tone caused your smile to grow slightly wider. Your eyes flickered up towards him, as your free hand ran a feathered touch upon his forearm.

"Na, those types don't do anything for me. I like my men..." your flirtatious gaze subtly roamed over his emerald green frame. "A bit more... rough around the edges."

Rolling onto your side, back facing Crosshairs, you started fiddling with the wild daisies within the grass. Not realizing that your denim shorts rose a little higher, exposing the curves of your ass.

Crosshairs swallowed the butterflies that entangled his wires, his optics roaming over your frame, drinking in the sight of your curves and how you almost sprawled out among the wildflowers. A strange, unfaminular feeling of warmth bloomed within his spark chamber, as he leaned in closer. Shifting plates and whirling gears filled the air, his frame coming slighter more to your height.

A silent gasp escaped your lips, once feeling the cool metal of his servo caressed your thigh, trailing up towards your ass.

Crosshairs couldn't help but slightly pause for a moment as you pushed your ass more against his touch. His throat oddly feeling dry, swallowing the butterflies once more, as he gently squeezed the curve of your ass, thumb rubbing in a soothing motion.

His systems slowly begun to heat up, when your soft moans filled his audios. You shifted slightly as he kissed and nuzzled the back of your thigh, rough calloused digits gently massaging you. The tips of his digits tracing your hip and waist, feeling your soft, warm skin beneath his touch. A part of him couldn't get enough, your warmth, your soft delicate frame, your very presence making his spark throb-

"Crosshairs!"

The moment your surprised yelp reached his audios, the Autobot froze, his optics widening once seeing his bite mark bruise the curve of your ass.

Sh-Shit... My kiss is...

"Sorry... Sorry I..." his voice was gruff and uncertain. As he gently rubbed the small bite mark on your ass, attempting to soothe the slight sting.

Yet when he met your gaze, your expression made his spark flutter. Looking over your shoulder, soft eyes meeting the Autobot's gaze, a shade of pink dusting your cheeks. As the gentle breeze carried your whispered plea, "a-again..."

A strange shiver of excitement shot throughout Crosshairs frame, his servo absent mindedly squeezing your ass. "Again...?"

With the subtle nod of your head, and purposely moving your hips which caused your denim shorts to ride up a little more, Crosshairs' breath escaped him in a rugged gasp. His grip upon your thigh digging into your skin slightly, with the last strain of his self-control snapping like a rubber band. Crosshairs quickly leaned down, pressing a soft kiss upon your ass before biting down again.

Crosshairs satisfied groan muffled against your skin, his desire growing more intense with each passing moment. His servo caressing your hip and thigh, as he continued to leave love bites across the curve of your ass, and up towards your lower back.

The green Autobot pulled away as you rolled onto your back. Butterflies entangling his wires even more, electric volts surged throughout his frame like fire crackers, as his spark thummed within it's chamber. His optics meeting your flushed expression.

His servos gently pushed your legs apart, his touch rough yet tender as Crosshairs slowly lowered himself between your legs. A low purr rumbled deep within his engine, as your breathless gasp reached his audios. Your legs slightly trembled beneath his touch, your back arching in response to his kisses that trailed up your inner thigh. Leaving the feeling of warmth and teasing nips, as he moved closer to your core.

"You humans and these pesky fabrics!-"

Your eyes widened, his name slipping from your mouth with the blush upon your cheeks deepening. Your heartbeat slightly spiking, once feeling his index digit hook into the seam of your shorts, and effortlessly taring away the denim from your clothed core.

Another growl rumbles from the green Autobot, as you shivered under his touch, the soft gasp of his name fueling his desire. A warmth begun to build within your abdominem, his glossa slowly circling around your clit as he took in the sweet scent of your arousal.

That's it, baby. Dig those fingers into my helm! Show me where you want it! Where this glossa of mine can please you, like no other can!

Your wetness covered his glossa, as Crosshairs devoured your core. His soft yet muffled praises fueling your hips to rock against his rhythm.

He pulls away just long enough to look at you, his optics glassed with desire, his face glistening with your essence. Flashing a flirtatious smile, before swiftly tossing you onto your stomach, allowing you to naturally go on all fours.

Crosshairs leaned down, his frame towering over yours as he slowly yet gently pressed his body against yours. His servos caressing your sides, digits exploring and tracing the curves of your body, lowering his helm towards your back. Leaving a trail of soft kisses and subtle love bites through the fabric of your shirt.

Looking over your shoulder, Crosshairs sees your eyes slightly widen, a breathless "fuck" escapes your lips, as his spike his released from his modesty plate. Warmth raises to the Autobot's faceplates, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal upon his features. While his green and silver, ribbed spike leaked pre-transfluid from the tip.

"For someone who claims they distrust humans. You're sure are... keen enough for exploring of one-"

"Th-This... this is different." Crosshairs tries to protest, voice strained and tense, as his spike throbbed in his servo.

A cheeky smile teases the corner of your lips, noticing how hot air escaped his vents. Knowing that the warmth beneath his faceplates was raising.

"Oh... so this egotistical bot wanted..." Crosshairs moaned softly, his frame trembling while you teasingly pushed your soaked core against the tip of his spike. "... Some love? Is that how this is different?-"

"Sh-Shut up..." he muttered, voice ragged and strained. Feeling the sensations of desire pulse through his frame like a live wire. Biting his lower lip, optics flaring as he struggled to focus on your words. The pleasure overwhelming his processor.

"Make me."

"Oh, I'm gonna make you alright!- Ah! Fuck!"

"Crosshairs!"

His engine growls in satisfaction at the sound of your moan, optics darkening further, feeling the heat radiating from you. His servos tightens around your trembeling hips, guiding his spike gently into your core. Feeling every inch of himself stretching and filling you, the seastion sending waves of pleasure through both of you.

"You're not so tough." You teased while rocking your hips to his rhythm. "You just wanted some stress relief, didn't you?"

The way he trembled to your words was the only answer you needed. Revealing his frustration of how accurate you were, how true it was that he's been dying for some form of release.

"Shut up... Shut. Up!"

Squeezing your waist, your scream echoed throughout the empty field, as Crosshairs slammed his spike deeper into you with each thrust. One of his servos slipping under the hem of your shirt, cupping and groping your breast, feeling how you bounced against his touch. While his free servo reached down your core, tracing circles over your clit, while his spike continued to stretch out your core.

"Cr-Crosshairs!... I'm... I-I'm..." your words trembled, just like your legs as you begun to ride out your high.

A low moan escapes the Autobot, picking up his pace as your essence dripped down his spike. Chasing his own high, as your trembling body took his length.

Static shock ran through his inner circuits like a live wire, years of coiled tension within his systems snapped, as his relief painted your womb before pulling out.

Falling onto your stomach, finally allowing your quivering limbs to rest as you weakly rolled onto your back. Deep shade of pink dusted your features, eyes softly gazing up at Crosshairs as he gently lowered himself to you.

Pressing a soft kiss upon your forehead, stroking your hip with his thumb as the Autobot tried to compose himself. Venting deeply, the aftershocks of pleasure still buzzing throughout his frame, as you both silently savour the moment.

"Fuck... You've got me all messed up."

A breathless chuckle escaped you, "It's alright to say you enjoyed it, tough guy." Your eyes flickered down to his spike, covered in yours and his essence, "your body certainly shows you did."

"Do you hear me complaining, Toots?" a satisfied smirk teased the corners of Crosshairs' lips, "looks like we've got some... cleaning up to do."

With a slow, soft seductive bite of your lower lip, your words coming out with a seductive purr. "Perhaps, we should take this in the barn."

"Fuck yea..."

The Next Morning

Crosshairs woke with the scent of hay and wildflowers in his vents, the soft warmth of a body curled into his side, and a spark that still hadn’t stopped humming from the night before.

For once, his optics didn’t immediately scan the perimeter or check for aerial threats. For once, the battlefield in his processor was quiet.

His helm rested back against a rusted support beam of the barn’s interior. Through gaps in the old wood, he could see morning light filtering in like slow-falling gold. Dust motes danced in the slanted rays, and the faint chirping of birds added a gentle soundtrack to the moment.

You lay tucked into his side, one leg draped over his chest, head nestled against the curved slope of his side plating. Hand resting over his spark chamber as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Your hair—mussed and tangled from both sleep and intercourse partially covered your face.

Crosshairs gently reached out and brushed a lock away, his servo tracing the edge of your jaw, down to your chest where his Autobot insignia upon a silver chain rested, with a tenderness that surprised even him.

His digits dropping to something hanging loosely off the grip of his holstered pistol—dog tags. Your dog tags.

The ones you’d given him last night in a moment of whispered affection, half-teasing, half-meaningful.

But the sound of engines, low and heavy broke the dawn's silence.

Crosshairs instantly froze, audials narrowing in on the sound approaching from the gravel road that led to the farmhouse.

Not Autobots. Too small. Too smooth.

His battle instincts surged. That peace he'd just basked in was ripped away like a trapdoor under his pedes.

His shifting stirred disturbed your rest. Blinking against the morning light, still warm from his side.

“Mm… Cross?”

He didn’t answer. Simply raising a index digit to his lips in a command for silence, before pointing toward the window slit above the pair of you.

Tires on gravel. Doors opening. Boots disturbing the loose gravel driveway. It all piqued your curiosity.

Cautiously sitting up, adjusting your shirt attempting to hide your undergarments as you approached the window, peering through at the sight.

From the black, military issue SUV that took the lead, your brows furrowed, your stomach dropping as the familiar sight of your old N.E.S.T squadmate, Cal Monroe.

".... Son of a bitch," you hissed. "Crosshairs, stay in the barn. I've got a suspicion of who attacked you a few days ago-"

"Then like hell I'm-"

"I'm not asking. I'm telling you." Your voice was sharp now, eyes deadly serious. "Trust me... let me handle this."

Not waiting for the Autobot to reply, you quickly grabbed some clothes off the washing line at the back of the barn. Slipping out of the back door, and effortlessly shifting your posture into your usual morning routine.

"Well I'll be damned! Look who's still kicking around dirt and chickens." Cal spoke with a mock cheer, opening his arms wide.

"Didn't think I'd see your smug face before my coffee."

"Just in the neighborhood." Cal casually spoke, his men fanning out with practiced ease. "Thought I'd stop by. Figured you wouldn't mind a visit."

Raising an eyebrow, as you peered over his shoulder, staring at the convoy of black SUV's. "And... you brought half of Washington with you? You always did overcompensate."

A prick of annoyance bruised Cal's ego, as a few soldiers chuckled behind him. "Fine... our systems flagged a Cybertronian signature in this region. Just a small one. We thought maybe it was incorrect data, but... I had to check."

You crossed your arms, "And you figured it was on my land?-"

"I'm just concerned about your safety." Cal shrugged, feigning innocence. "Wellbeing and routine of citizen safety. Y'know the drill-"

"I know it's bullshit, or did you forget that I too was in the military? Just like how you've forgotten what operation we were apart of-"

"Things have changed."

"No." You snapped, stepping towards him. "You changed! Like Lennox, you jumped on the Goddamn ban wagon of proclaiming that every Cybertronian is threat! Yet you know other wise, Cal. You fought along side them-"

"And you know, that not every Cybertronian out there got's a noble streak!-"

"Maybe... But I also know that your boys don't know the difference. And neither do the people giving you orders."

A long silence stretched between you.

Finally, Cal sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look... all I'm saying is, if you see or hear something- anything- tell me. For old time's sake."

You glared narrowed onto him, "I don't know anything. And trust me, even if I did... I wouldn't tell you anything. Now you and your shadow squad can get the fuck off my land."

Cal gave a slow nod, but before he could say more, two of his men chuckled by an old oak tree near the farmhouse.

"Hey, Sarge," one called out. Pointing to some ripped lace undergarments carelessly tossed upon the grass. "Guess someone had company last night."

---

From the shadows of the barn, Crosshairs watched the scene unfold with growing fury.

He kept still—too still. His plating tense, his servo hovering near the grip of his rifle. Optics narrowed, tracking every step of the Taskforce men as they spread across the property. None had come inside yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Nearby, you stood your ground in front of the lead SUV, arms folded tightly across your chest, expression unreadable. But Crosshairs could see that your stance was firm—too firm. The kind of posture someone held when adrenaline masked fear.

Cal Monroe stood close now, his arms relaxed at his sides, but his stance was anything but casual.

“You gonna say something?” Cal asked, his hands on his hips. “Because just standing there isn’t helping your case.”

You remained still, jaw clenched, refusing to bite.

"Tch. You always were stubborn. But this? This is reckless."

Crosshairs saw the moment Cal’s patience cracked. He barked to his men, “Fan out. Search every building. Every shed. Burn the barn if you have to.”

“What?!” you snapped, stepping forward. “Cal, don’t you dare—!

“I will, unless you start talking. I am two seconds from tearing this whole place down. You made it complicated. Contain her!" he barked to one of his men. "Get her in the SUV. Clearly, she needs to be reminded who the real enemy is-”

“Don’t you touch me!-"

"Let. Her. Go!" Crosshairs’ vents hissed.

The barn doors groaned as he shoved them open, stepping fully into the morning light. Walking into the open with his shoulders back and a pistol drawn, its barrel trained dead-center on Cal’s chest.

Weapons were drawn instantly. Red laser sights flared to life from at least six directions, painting his chassis in flickering pinpricks of light.

You froze, still held by two men who had clearly underestimated your strength. Eyes widened in disbelief as you saw Crosshairs—fully revealed, standing out in the open like some defiant green knight made of fury and steel.

"Crosshairs, no! Run!"

But he didn’t budge.

His voice was low, deadly calm. “You’ve got exactly three seconds to take your hands off her before I paint your trucks with your own slagging blood.”

“Contain the threat!" Cal shouted to his team. "Bring it down before it gets hostile!”

“Hostile?” Crosshairs snapped. “You stormed her home. Threatened her. Touched her. And I’m the hostile one?”

You pulled free from the grip of one soldier, throwing an elbow into another. "Crosshairs! Run!"

“No,” he ground out. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to!” You stumbled towards him, only to be grabbed again. "Just go—please! I’ll be fine. But if they capture you—”

A soldier raised a weapon too quickly—Crosshairs responded with a shot fired just inches from the man’s boot.

The team halted. Cal threw up a hand to hold fire, but his voice was already tight with warning. “You’re not walking away from this, bot.”

Crosshairs growled. “Watch me-”

"You'll only make this worse," you begged. "Go. Run. You know I can handle myself. Please... don’t make me watch them take you.”

For a long, tense second, the Autobot didn’t move. His weapon twitched in his grasp, still aimed, still burning. His spark twisted.

Crosshairs backed toward the trees, still aiming until the very last second. "Promise you'll come back to me. I don't care how long, or what it takes, you find me when it's safe. You hear me?"

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes. "I promise."

Then, with one final look—one filled with heartbreak and heat and everything unspoken—Crosshairs turned and sprinted into the trees.

Vanishing into the rising sun.

Leaving the air heavy with gunpowder, regret, and something dangerously close to love.

[mxtantrights]

mob!bucky has an eager heart

He can hear you're taking a shower. One thing that hasn't changed apparently is that you still sing. You have a great voice and it carries from your bathroom into his office.

It's like you intentionally chose the bedroom that would haunt him he most. The vents from that bathroom lead directly into his office for some reason. He should've had it fixed a long time ago.

Thank God he didn't.

He pulls up your address on his phone. A phone number is listed for the super intendant. He wants to make sure that things are going well with the maintenance. He can't imagine that you're not stressed out about it.

And he also wants to make sure that there aren't any stupid surge charges when you get back. There are crooks every where. He should know he has a couple working for him.

He dials the number and presses the phone to his ear.

-

You turn the shower off.

The walls may be steaming and the glass all fogged up, but that was okay. After all it's not your water bill you're running up. It feels good not to worry about it.

You step out the shower and grab the green towel. Wrapping it around your body you reach for the scented vanilla lotion. You start lathering it all over, not really paying attention to how loud you're being.

The music from your phone plays an old R&B song. You just keep humming along as you go through your routine. Once you're all moisturized you reach for your sweatpants and old college hoodie.

You open the door first to let some of the steam out. Not to much that someone could walk by and see you, but enough. You move to the wall near the door and pull the clothes on.

This is definitely testing the limits. But you have to see if this works. You know that when the you and Bucky are in the same room you feel it. The electricity from before. The fucking thunder.

And maybe if you're here, you'll be able to talk yourself into taking the leap. Telling him about how you still feel.

Truthfully you could drown yourself in work and hobbies and go on with a huge regret sitting on your chest for the rest of your life. You could.

You don't want to.

-

Bucky presses the red call button. He places his phone down, the soft humming from the bathroom hitting his ears. He looks up at the vent near his desk.

There's a smile on his face.

Because you, the love of his life, lied to stay here. There is no leak, no pipe burst, no anything. Your super actually worked himself into a tizzy when Bucky claimed as much.

Literally kept him on the phone to check all the machines we working and all the pipes were in good condition. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of listening to an older man speak to himself in circles.

And somehow those thirty minutes gave Bucky the most clarity he ever had in his life.

You want to be here.

He smiles even wider as he listens to you hum.

[late-draft]

I want to know all of the details of the scifi au like right now, I'm so hooked instantly

Okay let me set the stage!

This is a sci-fi AU, leaning onto (what I've read) the first idea of ATLA; however unlike how it had Aang be from an ancient technologically advanced civilization waking up in a technologically regressed world(?), here the tech that Air Nomads had was forgotten and new one was created and it proliferated.

An important thing to keep in mind is that I intended this AU to be literally made up of iconic, primeval tropes of young audience's shows. I'm currently in a phase where I test how well I'm able to incorporate tropes and make the best use of them, so for this AU, expect it to feel EXACTLY like the thrill of running at 10 PM up to your grandma's CRT TV to watch that amazing series on Jetix you can't get enough of!!!!

~~~

First thing to notice here, the world has a Key Holder for every bending type. Keys are your magical symbols. It's the standard trope in these types of shows, think of them as kids who represent the absolute core traits of their element. Because Aang has to find specific individuals now rather than arbitrarily choosing a teacher, we have a tighter narrative although more trope-y. Aang is the Key holder for Air - every Avatar is always a Key holder for their native element, but can be taught other bending types only by respective elements' Key holders.

As expected, the world is ruled by the Fire Nation's strongest corporation, led by Emperor Ozai. Most of the setting is skyscrapers, huge power cables and mazes of pipeworks. Hakoda is the leader of resistance but he had disappeared two years ago, leaving his two children with a warning to stay hidden and safe below ground. Their secret hideout is pretty safe and cozy. Of course Sokka and Katara would not sit idly forever! Wandering through the underground they discover an ancient cryo pod, the only active one left. When he comes to himself, Aang realizes that he's the last airbender in the world for the past 1000 years.

The Avatar is able to operate ancient spiritual machines that the Air Nomads tended to. Once he learns all bending types, he'll be able to return airbending to the world through a Harmonic Convergence event by activating a huge lionturtle machine. The problem is - nobody knows where this machine is, but the Avatar is able to "listen" for signs of keyholders and machines through an ancient leftover network. Katara and Sokka swear to aid Aang in achieving this goal and restoring balance to the world. Ever since airbenders disappeared, there had been heavy dissonance in the spirit world, creating terrible natural disasters that altered the face of the planet. They're having difficulty finding the Key holder for Water.... the first one they find is Toph for Earth! She joins the gaang in late season 1 :)

In this AU, there's a tradeoff where the element of kungfu fights is reduced in favour of high-speed chases through the metropolis. Aang (14) moves quickly through the city using only his airbending, by running or speeding on his air sphere. The only piece of new equipment he wears are clear plastic goggles that Sokka (18) gave him. And while you might expect Zuko (19) to be chasing them on a red motorbike, no! It's in fact Katara (17) who's a super-skilled bike driver while Zuko and his entourage are on ROLLERBLADES SKATING ACROSS WALLS AND PIPES. Propulsion via firebending! (same thing Azula does in canon, just elevated to skating). Iroh waits for his nephiew to fail each chase and offer him tea, he's just wearing black dress pants. XD Sokka is Katara's genius engineer brother who constantly grumbles and throws sarcastic remarks because he has to fix her bike after every. single. chase! In this setting, Ozai is specifically looking for the Avatar because he could, using unethical means and technology on a trapped Avatar, be able to grant all bending types to whoever he chooses. This would spell disasteeeer. However, it's also implied that in a similar way, he could "fix" anyone...

Some notes:

You can probably feel the conclusions of many things I left blank. This is on purpose.

Zuko absolutely must have to be motivated by a desire to win his father's approval and love, this must not change. I'll introduce Azula in a later post.

The lionturtle as a concept and its effects are made clear and setup from the get-go. The spiritual machines are just a background element that doesn't affect the plot, it's just a goal.

Aang still has a crush on Katara! And it would be brought up a bit more frequently, in order to serve the plot.

Ozai is doing something concrete that's directly related to Avatar's bending, tying him closer to the Avatar as his antagonist.

This AU's setting is as you may have sensed, more mellow at first. It doesn't have a currently active war.

The characters are older because that feels more fitting to me. (I was investigating W.I.T.C.H. show and saw they were basically all 13 and dating and I was like. "Yikes. No")

Help me dig out any VISUAL references you might remember, from shows of the similar vibe. The goal is not to mimic but to add to the characteristic genre.

These screenshots are from OBAN: STAR RACERS and are what I'd associate with the old Air Nomad technology!

Shape Da Future from Jet Set Radio is precisely what aligned perfectly with this AU.

I'll be sharing more details about this AU in future posts, and everyone is welcome to add their ideas and thoughts on it! I wonder what I forgot to mention here…

[urbanrelics]

AQUAPARK

The first visit to this abandoned water tower, back in 2017, was a veritable test to my fear of heights. The ladder you see in the photo above, situated between the two large, rusty pipes, is about 70 meters (230 feet) above ground level. Below that ladder, there is... nothing. I can't say I have conquered my fear of heights entirely, but I did conquer this one!

In an industrial complex like this, where numerous machines are continuously running at full speed and where high temperatures are generated, it is of course essential to have a sufficiently large water supply, which is also under a guaranteed constant pressure. That is why most steel mills are equipped with their own water tower.

The iffy little ladder, that goes up about another 20 meters (65 feet) leads to the reservoir, which is what you see in the photo below.

Such a water tower is easily negelected, especially when there are so many other beautiful things to see on the site. Nevertheless, it is usually worth taking a look here too. One can often encounter unexpectedly nice photo opportunities. I really enjoyed the play of colors and lights here.

This specimen has survived the test of time relatively well, but the extensive decay is becoming increasingly apparent. The climb to the top is not entirely without risks. Rust and concrete rot have wreaked havoc on this water tower in recent years. So be careful if you do want to venture a visit into a place like this...

[formulaonefan1]

The Sound Of Silence- 2

pairing: none

summary: a fourteen year old girl gets adopted by none other than charles leclerc

disclaimer: this story was originally written on wattpad so the transfer might be a bit iffy

previous part next part The Sound Of Silence masterlist MASTERLIST

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫.

𝐈𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐱 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐊 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐮𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐀𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨 ❤️

𝐈𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐮𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨!!!

𝐁𝐲𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱

🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱🂱 🂱 🂱🂱🂱

Lizzy's POV

The hum of the fridge in Charles's fancy Monaco apartment is driving me up the wall. It's not just a hum—it's a rattling, grinding noise, like someone's shaking a box of screws in the next room.

I'm sprawled on the couch in the living room, my backpack at my feet, trying to block it out, but it's like a mosquito buzzing in my ear. Too loud, too chaotic, too much like the shouting matches back at the orphanage that'd make my heart race and my hands shake. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. I've been here one day, and already this place is testing me.

Charles is in the kitchen, rummaging through a drawer, probably looking for a takeout menu. He's been nice enough—ordered pizza last night, didn't push when I barely said two words—but I'm still waiting for the catch. Nobody just adopts a kid like me, a 14-year-old with a rap sheet of fights and a knack for disappearing. I glance at him, his back turned, his phone buzzing on the counter. He's distracted. Good. I need to fix that fridge before it makes my head explode.

I stand, grabbing my multi-tool from my pocket. It's small, worn, and nicked from an orphanage janitor who didn't deserve it anyway. It's my lifeline—part screwdriver, part knife, part magic wand for making broken things whole. I slip into the kitchen, keeping my steps light, like I'm sneaking out to the rink back at the orphanage.

Charles doesn't notice, too busy muttering to himself about "Italian or sushi." I don't care what we eat. I just need that noise to stop.

The fridge is one of those sleek, stainless-steel monsters, probably costs more than a car. It's humming along, but there's a rattle deep inside, like something's loose. I kneel in front of it, my fingers already working the edge of the back panel. I've fixed worse—leaky pipes, busted radios, even a washing machine once, all self-taught from manuals I'd sneak from the library and YouTube videos on the orphanage's ancient computer. If I can figure out twelve languages from scratch, a fridge is child's play.

I pop the panel off, wincing as the rattle gets louder. It's dark back here, dusty, and I can feel the vibration through the floor. My head's pounding, but I focus, scanning the coils and wires. There— a loose fan blade, wobbling like a drunk dancer. I tighten it with the multi-tool, my hands steady despite the noise clawing at my nerves. I hate loud things, fast things, anything that feels like it's closing in. Cars, crowds, yelling—they all bring back flashes of the orphanage, of hands grabbing, voices barking, doors slamming.

I shake my head, pushing the memory down. Not now, Lizzy. Fix the thing.

"Lizzy? What're you doing?" Charles's voice cuts through, and I freeze, the multi-tool halfway through a twist. He's standing behind me, a takeout menu in one hand, his brow furrowed. He doesn't sound mad, just confused, but my guard's up anyway. I don't know his angles yet.

"Nothing," I say, too quick, sliding the panel back into place. The fridge hums smoothly now, the rattle gone, but I'm not about to take credit.

People notice you when you show off, and I've learned to stay invisible. I stand, slipping the multi-tool into my pocket, and brush the dust off my jeans. "Just looking."

He tilts his head, like he's trying to read me. His eyes are brown, warm, but I don't trust warm. Warm can hide sharp edges. "Sounded like you were fixing something," he says, glancing at the fridge. "It's quieter now."

I shrug, keeping my face blank. "Must've fixed itself." I move past him, heading for the living room, my heart thumping. Stupid, Lizzy. Should've waited till he was gone. But the noise was too much, like nails on a chalkboard, and I couldn't think straight.

Charles doesn't push, just watches me go. "Okay," he says, his voice light, like he's letting it slide. "I'm thinking sushi for dinner. You like fish?"

"Sure," I mutter, dropping onto the couch. I don't care about sushi. I care about the exits I mapped last night—front door, balcony, service elevator down the hall. This apartment is a maze of glass and marble, all shiny surfaces and views of Monaco's harbor that make my head spin. It's nothing like the orphanage's cracked walls and flickering lights. I don't belong here, and every second I'm waiting for Charles to figure that out and send me back.

I pull my knees to my chest, staring out the window. The yachts in the harbor look like toys, bobbing in water so blue it hurts my eyes. I wonder where the nearest skating rink is. Last night, I almost snuck out to find one, but the locks on the front door were trickier than I expected. I could pick them, no problem—I've cracked worse—but I didn't want to risk Charles catching me.

Not yet. Skating's my lifeline, the one place I can move without feeling trapped, where the world makes sense. I'll find a rink soon. I always do.

Charles is back on his phone, pacing the kitchen. I catch snatches of his conversation—something about a race, a car, a guy named Max. I know Max Verstappen from the TV, another driver, all cocky grins and fast laps. Charles sounds relaxed, laughing, but I tune him out. I don't need to know his life. I just need to survive it.

My eyes drift to the living room, scanning for something else to fix, something to keep my hands busy and my mind quiet. There's a clock on the wall, but I fixed that yesterday, its ticking now steady as a heartbeat. The TV remote looks fine, the lamps are working, the coffee table's pristine.

Everything here is too perfect, like a stage set for someone else's life. I'm not supposed to be here, not really. Charles is a stranger, and I'm just the kid he picked out of pity or some PR stunt. I've seen the headlines—F1 Star Adopts Orphan—and I can't shake the feeling there's a catch.

A flash hits me, unbidden: the orphanage dorm, dark except for the moonlight through a cracked window. I'm eight, curled under a thin blanket, hearing footsteps in the hall. Heavy boots, a matron's voice barking my name—Elizabeth, get up, you're in trouble again. I didn't do anything, but that never mattered. I learned to fight back, to dodge, to hide. My hands clench at the memory, and I force myself to breathe. That's over. I'm out.

But the instinct lingers, like a scar that itches.

"Lizzy?" Charles's voice pulls me back. He's off the phone now, standing by the counter, watching me with that same careful look. "You okay? You looked... far away."

"I'm fine," I say, too sharp, and stand up, grabbing my backpack. "Gonna unpack." It's a lie—I unpacked yesterday, what little I have—but I need space, need to move before the memories dig in deeper. I head for my room, feeling his eyes on my back. He doesn't follow, and I'm glad. I don't know how to be around him, how to act like a daughter when I've never had a dad.

I sit on the bed, pulling out my notebook. It's battered, pages filled with sketches of skate routines, wiring diagrams, phrases in Mandarin, Arabic, Russian. I flip to a blank page and start sketching the fridge's fan assembly, just to keep my hands busy. I could take it apart again, make it even quieter, but I don't want Charles asking questions. He's already too curious about the fridge, and I can't afford to let him see me, not really.

The apartment's quiet now, the fridge's hum steady, no more rattling. I did that. It's a small thing, but it's mine. I fix things—clocks, radios, lives—because it's the only way I know how to feel in control. Back at the orphanage, fixing a kid's broken toy or a flickering light meant I was useful, not just a problem. Here, though, I don't know what I am. Charles's kid? His project? I don't trust his smile, his easy laugh, his promises of "make yourself at home." Homes don't last, not for me.

I hear him moving in the kitchen, the clink of glasses, the rustle of a bag. "Sushi's on its way," he calls, like it's normal, like we're some kind of family already. I don't answer. Instead, I slip to the window, staring at the city below. Monaco's a glittery cage, all lights and money, nothing like the gray, gritty world I know.

Somewhere out there is a rink, a place where I can spin, glide —

a memory flashes across my mind; the orphanage basement, where I'd hide after lights-out, practicing spins on a stolen pair of skates too big for my feet. The cold concrete, the echo of my blades, the way it felt like flying, like freedom. I'd sneak out to a nearby rink whenever I could, teaching myself jumps from videos, ignoring the bruises and blisters. Skating was mine, the one thing they couldn't take. I need to find a rink here, need to feel that freedom again.

"Lizzy?" Charles knocks on my door, and I flinch, shoving the notebook under my pillow. "Dinner's almost here. Want to eat in the living room?"

"Sure," I say, keeping my voice flat. I don't want to eat with him, don't want to sit across a table and pretend I'm okay with this. But I'm hungry, and I've learned to pick my battles. I grab my multi-tool, slipping it back into my pocket, and head out.

The living room smells like soy sauce and seaweed when I get there, takeout containers spread across the coffee table. Charles is setting out plates, humming to himself, like this is just another day. I sit on the edge of the couch, eyeing the food. Sushi's new—never had it at the orphanage—but I'll figure it out. I figure everything out.

"You ever tried sushi?" Charles asks, handing me a pair of chopsticks. His smile's back, and I wonder if it's real or just part of the act.

"Nope," I say, taking the chopsticks. I've used them before, in secret, practicing with cafeteria forks to mimic the grip. I pick up a piece of sushi, steady, like I've done it a hundred times. He doesn't need to know it's my first.

He watches me, not pushy, just curious. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

I shrug, popping the sushi in my mouth. It's... weird, but not bad. I chew slowly, avoiding his eyes. The fridge hums softly in the background, a quiet victory. I fixed it, made this place a little less unbearable. Maybe I can survive here, one fix at a time. But I'm not letting my guard down. Not yet. Not ever.

🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱🂱 🂱 🂱 🂱🂱 🂱 🂱🂱🂱

[eviemonroeer]

The Monroe Effect: Chapter 43

Set during Season 7, Episode 7 of ER. Spoilers if you haven't seen the show.

Warnings: mentions of vomit, pregnancy (not FMC), explosions

WC: 2.1 k

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, @hagarsays, @antisocialfiore, @snowflames-world, @guiltypleassure243, @omgbrianab, @dizzybee03, and @secretmoonphantom

MASTERLIST

Trust is a hard thing to rebuild. 

But we were trying, slowly but surely. 

Carter told me about Abby’s mom showing up in the ER, trying to help both of them.

I told him about Luka taking me home after I saw the two of them that night. We made an effort to go out and spend time together with and without Meghan. It wasn’t like before, but it was definitely better than it had been when he first came home. And I was okay with that. Anything was better than before.

November rolled around quickly and then Thanksgiving was here. Gamma was understandably upset that we were both on shift since this would be Meghan’s first Thanksgiving. She wanted to do it right, with a giant spread of food fit to feed an army. But we both needed the money. There were still bills and loans to pay off and though holiday pay wasn’t much more, it was still something. It was raining hard when we got to County, dropping Meghan off at daycare. This time, Carter didn’t hesitate to hand her over, getting better and better each time. We even got to say hi to Reese when Peter dropped him off.

Once we made our way downstairs, we were put straight to work by Weaver before we could even drop our stuff off in our lockers. It was pretty busy from the start of shift, the standard Thanksgiving related injuries we typically saw and a lot due to the rain. The weirdest one was a pharmacy tech, likely having an overdose since Abby found that pipe on him. And then Elizabeth got sick, and I took her into an exam room to take a moment. 

“I don’t really believe you.” I told her as I got her into the on-call room, an emesis basin in her hands. She had been saying she was fine the whole time I walked her here. 

“I’m alright.” She said, her sickness causing his accent lengthen the vowels more than normal.

I shook my head and naturally began checking her vitals. “When did you start feeling bad?” 

“Not that long. It’s probably food poisoning. Or the flu.”

My senses began to tingle. “Food poisoning? What are your symptoms?”

“Uh, nausea, some vomiting. Fatigue and some headaches.”

“Huh.” I mumbled after confirming her temperature was normal and removing the BP cuff. “When was your last period?”

Elizabeth immediately looked up at me. “Gen, I’m not pregnant.”

“Really? Is it not possible?”

She paused. “It’s not.......not possible.” 

“Well, my “food poisoning” is upstairs in daycare right now. I think you should take a test. Unless you want me to do an ultrasound.” I pointed behind me. “Or maybe I can find a doctor to do it?” 

Elizabeth’s eyes were wide with shock. I could see the gears turning in her head and I was starting to feel bad for her. I knew exactly how she was feeling in this moment. Unexpected pregnancy can be quite jarring, no matter the situation you’re in. I was single and pregnant by my best friend. She had a fiancée and a stable relationship. Yet there had been fear in both of our eyes. 

“What are you thinking?” 

“Like I might vomit again.”

I nodded and put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me go get that ultrasound machine and we’ll see who’s right.”

I was walking down the hall after leaving Elizabeth, when I saw Abby and Carter standing in front of the exam room door. “Hey.” Carter said, smiling. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.” 

“That’s what happens when the holidays bring everyone in. I’m starting to wind-down on patients. You going to be ready to leave soon? I know Millicent will be mad if we are late.”

“I’ll start getting everything finished now.” He said and ran a hand over my lower back before walking away. I turned to Abby, her eyes closed in frustration. She was also very wet. Must have been outside with an incoming trauma. “Everything alright?” 

Abby sighed. “Actually, no.” She looked at me. “Would you mind starting this IV for Mr. Thall in there. I really just need a moment to myself.” 

“Sure, no problem.” I smiled and took the bag from her. 

“Thank you. I owe you one.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Abby took off towards the bathroom and I pushed my way into the room.  “Mr. Thall, I know Abby already told you.” I started. “You can’t smoke in here. You have to go outside.

“In the rain? I’ve got pneumonia.” 

I checked the drip on the bag’s line before I put it in, letting the liquid pool in a basin. A smell immediately flooded my nose. “Uh. This smells weird.” I shook my head and hung the line back on the stand so I could go get a new one, not trusting it. 

“I need an ash tray.” 

I reached for the basin and gave it to him. “Anything else I can get you?” 

“An extra pillow would be nice.” 

I sighed. “I can do that.” 

I walked over to the other exam bed to grab it’s pillow when an intense heat flew towards me from the back and there was a loud bang. I must have lost consciousness for a moment because the next time I opened my eyes, the exam room was engulfed in flames, the sprinkler system trying to put it out. I tried to roll over, but a sharp pain in my right side kept me stationery. 

“Abby?!” I heard a voice yell. “Abby?!” I could tell it was Carter as it got closer. “Oh my god, Evie?!” Carter appeared beside me, and he rolled me over, immediately beginning to check me out. “Evie, baby, are you okay? Is your neck, okay?” I nodded. 

"Is her airway clear?” I heard Kovac ask from the other side of the room. 

“I think she’s okay.” Carter told him and got me in his arms, carrying me from the room. “What were you doing in there?” He asked me, worry etched in his face. “That wasn’t your patient.” 

“Abby asked for my help.” I coughed. 

“Carter, do you need some help?” Chuny yelled. 

“I’m taking her to curtain 2.” 

“Abby?!” I heard another female voice called. Abby’s mother came into view. I had seen her sitting in chairs all day. Her face was immediately relieved when she saw I wasn’t her daughter. 

Carter placed me down on the gurney and I hissed when most of the landing was on the right side. I wiggled slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Do you have any chest pain?” Carter asked. 

“Yeah. My right ribs.” 

“Here.” He poked at them, and I squirmed again. 

“Oh my God, Evie.” Abby exclaimed, running up beside my bed. 

“Okay take a deep breath for me.” He instructed, putting his stethoscope on my chest. I tried, but it was hard. “Give me the oxygen.” He told Abby. She handed him the mask and he carefully put it around my face, pinching the nose to fit me. “Did you lose consciousness?” 

“Maybe for a second.” I said, trying to be loud enough. “I think I cracked a rib.” 

“I would say that you are probably right. Stop talking, breathe.” 

“Carter, I’m okay.” I said, trying to remove the mask.

“No, you are not.” He said firmly, forcing it back onto my face. “Evie, you were just in an explosion. Now please stay still and let me help you.” His tone was deadly serious, so I nodded and stopped fighting, knowing I wouldn’t win. 

Carter continued checking me over, doing every basic test he could possibly think of. Once my breathing had evened back out, they switched me to a nasal cannula and sent me up for a chest X-ray. Carter was with me the whole time. By the time the X-ray was over, my adrenaline rush was gone and all I wanted to do was go home. I mean, I deserved it after almost getting blown up. Once we were back down in the ER, I waited in curtain 2 while the firefighters and other ER workers finished clearing people out. 

“Guess who I found.” 

I turned my head and smiled as Chuny walked towards us with Meghan in her arms. She had been nice enough to go get her from daycare since they were closing down for the day. “Hi sweetie.” I said and held my arms out to her. She mirrored the gesture, a huge smile on her face as she kicked her legs. I took her from Chuny and brought her to my chest, not even worrying about my ribs. I just wanted my daughter close. 

“Thanks, Chuny.” Carter said and shouldered the diaper bag she gave him. 

“No problem. It was worth it to see her smile when I picked her up.” She kissed Meghan’s head. “See you later sweet girl.” 

Meghan sat in my lap and began playing with the tubes of the cannula. “Be careful Meghan.” Carter told her. “Mommy needs that right now.” 

“I’m okay Carter.” I said and removed it from my face. I handed it so him to lay on the pillow behind me as I tickled Meghan’s belly, causing her to giggle. 

“Carter, I’ve got Evie’s results.” Lydia said, handing him the envelope. He took it from her and walked over to the light board, sticking it into the holder. 

“Well, what’s the verdict, doc?” 

“Your lungs look clear. But you did crack a rib on the right.” He said, pointing to the cause of my discomfort. “We can get your discharge orders started.” 

“Do you really have to?” I asked. “Can’t we just go home? I could really go for a bubble bath right now.” 

“Evie....” 

“John.” 

“Just let me finish this up, check the evac, and then I’ll pass off my patients. You and Meghan can hang out here while I finish up. I don’t want you going home by yourself.” 

“I won’t be by myself. I have your grandparents and a whole staff.” 

“Genevieve.” 

And there was the stern dad voice again, this time with the full name. He really meant business. “Okay, fine.” I laid back on the bed and brought Meghan down to lay beside me. I turned to her. “But Daddy owes us a Thanksgiving burger and fries. I mean, we did miss dinner.”

“Coming right up.” 

My whole body felt like it was floating as I enjoyed my bath. My muscles relaxed and it even felt easier to breathe in spite of the crack in my rib. I just wanted to stay in this moment forever: quiet, alone, and at peace. 

A knock at the door broke that peace. 

“Evie, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Carter.” I paused. “You can come in if you want.” I shook my head and sunk deeper into the bath, regretting it as soon as it left my lips. Why did I say that? What was I thinking? He’s not going to want to come in here. I ran my hands over my wet hair, when the door to the bathroom opened, and Carter walked in. He had a glass of water in one hand and something else in the other. He held out the hand, two small white pills. He must have seen my expression. 

“Don’t worry, it’s Tylenol.” He said, his voice small. I took the pills from him and the glass, taking them. 

“Thanks.” 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I’m alright. Still sore, but it’s getting better.” 

“Just make sure you don’t stay in too long. You need to move around so you don’t get stiff.” 

“Aye, aye Captain Carter.” I said, giving him a mock salute. He scoffed but smiled and sat on the edge of the tub. He looked down at me and I felt myself flush. His eyes wandered down what the length of my body would be and then back up to my face. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he shook his head and cleared his throat. 

“Meghan’s asleep. Gave her a bottle and changed her, so she should be out for the rest of the night. I moved her to my room though, just in case. Didn’t want you to have to wake up with her.” 

“Thank you, Carter.” I said and placed my hand on top of his. 

“You’re welcome.” He took my hand and raised it some, allowing him to kiss it. “There’s also an ice pack on the bedside table. Let me know if you need anything. 

“I will.” 

He gave me a small smile and kissed my hand again, before he got up and slowly walked over of the bathroom door, shutting it behind him. I closed my eyes and leaned against the back of the tub. I took a deep breath and slowly sank underneath the water, trying to get my head to stop spinning.