#Voice & Data Cabling

[voicepathconvergencegroup]

Why Business Telephone Systems Are Key to Growth and Success

Why Business Telephone Systems Are Key to Growth and Success

In today’s fast-paced business world, communication plays a crucial role in driving growth and ensuring smooth operations. Whether you're a small startup or an established enterprise, your business telephone systems are essential for staying connected with customers, suppliers, and team members. The right system can streamline operations, enhance customer service, and improve overall productivity.

VoicePath Convergence Group understands the importance of having a reliable communication solution in place, and they specialize in providing tailored solutions that meet the unique needs of every business. Let’s dive into why a reliable business telephone system is a must-have for any modern business.

What Are Business Telephone Systems?

A business telephone system is more than just a tool for making and receiving calls. These systems offer an array of features designed to streamline communication, both within your company and with external clients. They can range from basic landline systems to more advanced voice-over-internet-protocol (VoIP) solutions, which offer flexibility and cost-effectiveness.

These systems typically include features like:

Call forwarding: Redirect calls to different numbers based on availability or priority.

Voicemail: Allow customers and clients to leave messages when you can’t answer.

Conference calling: Facilitate meetings with multiple participants, no matter their location.

Interactive Voice Response (IVR): Automatically route calls to the appropriate department or person.

A reliable business telephone system not only improves communication but also ensures that your business runs efficiently.

Why Every Business Needs a Business Telephone System

1. Enhanced Communication and Customer Service

A business telephone system ensures clear communication between your team members, clients, and suppliers. In a business environment where timely responses and high-quality customer service are vital, a reliable phone system can make a world of difference.

For example, with features like call forwarding and voicemail, employees can stay connected even when they’re out of the office or in a meeting. This ensures that important calls are never missed, and customers always have access to assistance.

2. Increased Efficiency

Cloud-based solutions make it easier to integrate communication channels. Whether it’s voice calls, emails, or video conferencing, managing them from a single platform saves time and effort, allowing employees to stay focused on the tasks that matter most.

Moreover, advanced systems allow for better call management. Features such as call queuing, auto-attendants, and customizable voicemail greetings ensure that every customer gets the attention they deserve, without causing unnecessary delays or frustration.

3. Cost Savings

While traditional telephone systems can be costly to maintain, modern solutions, particularly VoIP, are more affordable and provide a better return on investment. VoIP systems use the internet to transmit calls, which drastically reduces long-distance and international calling costs.

Additionally, the flexibility of VoIP systems allows businesses to scale up or down based on their needs. Adding new lines or features doesn’t require expensive hardware or technical expertise, making it a cost-effective choice for businesses of all sizes.

4. Scalability and Flexibility

As your business grows, your communication needs will evolve. Modern solutions, particularly VoIP, are scalable, meaning you can easily add new users or features without disrupting your operations. This scalability ensures that your communication system can grow alongside your business, whether you’re expanding to new locations, adding departments, or hiring more employees.

This flexibility is also beneficial for businesses with remote or mobile employees. With cloud-based systems, your team can access the business phone system from anywhere with an internet connection, making it easier to collaborate no matter where employees are located.

5. Improved Collaboration

In the modern business landscape, collaboration is key to success. With advanced telephone systems, collaboration has never been easier. Conference calling, video meetings, and team messaging features make it simple for employees to communicate in real time, no matter where they are.

These systems also enable seamless integration with other tools such as customer relationship management (CRM) software, email systems, and project management platforms. This helps keep everyone on the same page, ensures that important information is accessible to the right people, and ultimately leads to better decision-making.

6. Professional Image

First impressions matter, especially when it comes to customer service. A business telephone system helps create a more professional experience for your clients and customers. Features such as IVR and customized greetings provide a level of professionalism that will make clients feel like they are dealing with a well-established company.

Moreover, a high-quality phone system can enhance your brand’s reputation by ensuring that every interaction is smooth, professional, and efficient. This can lead to greater customer satisfaction and a stronger relationship with your client base.

How to Choose the Right Business Telephone System

With so many options available, choosing the right business telephone system can seem overwhelming. Here are a few key factors to consider when selecting the system that’s right for your business:

1. Size of Your Business

Consider the size of your company and your future growth plans. Small businesses may find that a basic VoIP or cloud-based system is sufficient, while larger businesses may need a more complex solution with features like call centers or multi-location integration. Whatever the size, make sure the system can scale to meet your future needs.

2. Budget

Telephone systems can vary greatly in cost, depending on the features and the number of lines you require. It’s important to set a realistic budget and choose a system that provides the features you need without overcommitting to unnecessary services.

3. Required Features

Think about the specific features you need. For example, do you need video conferencing capabilities? Is call forwarding a top priority? Will you be using the system for international calls? Assess your business's communication requirements to ensure the system you choose meets your needs.

4. Reliability and Support

It’s crucial to choose a provider that offers a reliable service with minimal downtime. Look for a business telephone system provider that provides customer support and ensures that your system is up and running at all times.

5. Integration

Look for systems that can easily integrate with your existing software, such as CRM platforms or email systems. This integration can streamline operations and improve efficiency by allowing your team to access everything they need in one place.

Why This Solution Is Ideal for Your Business

When it comes to providing high-quality communication solutions, there are companies that specialize in offering tailored services to meet the unique needs of businesses. Whether you're a small business or a large enterprise, the right provider can ensure that your communication systems are seamless and efficient.

The solutions available range from traditional phone systems to advanced VoIP technology. With an emphasis on scalability, flexibility, and cost-effectiveness, these services offer reliability and will help elevate your business communications.

For more information, you can visit the FAQ section to find detailed answers to common questions about communication systems and how they can benefit your business.

Elevate Your Business Communications with the Right Solutions

In a world where communication is essential for business success, having reliable business telephone systems is non-negotiable. The benefits of investing in the right solution are clear, from improving efficiency and enhancing customer service to saving costs and supporting growth. In addition, ensuring that your telephone cabling is properly set up and maintained can further optimize your communication systems, enhancing overall performance. Choosing the right solution ensures that your business stays connected, efficient, and professional. Whether you're just starting or looking to upgrade your current system, the right solution will be a key driver of your success.

Visit VoicePath Convergence Group for more information on how they can help you enhance your business communications and ensure a seamless experience.

[caspianitgroup]

Managed IT Services & Network Solutions Provider IT Company https://caspianitg.com/

[k12academics]

EdgeNet Services an one stop shop with IT and low voltage systems, design infrastructure and solutions. We provide various home security systems, such as: HD security cameras (CCTV), LED video wall, office setup, audio and video door entry systems, smart homes, audio, voice, data, cabling, wireless, and access control.

We are proud to offer such products to our clients with a goal of being timely and cost-effective.

[sd-cabling-company]

[starset21]

I Know Love Pt.1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Piastri!sister reader

Summery: Lando has always been a friend, her brother’s easygoing, fun-loving teammate. But when a fleeting moment in the garage—a near fall, a steadying touch—sends an undeniable spark through her, she starts to see him in a different light. And she’s not the only one. Oscar notices the shift, and he’s not thrilled.

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may found is on tumblr or A03 under the same name. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships. May contain google translated languages.

A/N: Wow a Lando fic? who am I?

The McLaren garage was a controlled storm of movement—mechanics tightening bolts, engineers huddled over screens, the scent of fuel and rubber thick in the air. It was a world she had always been a part of, but this year, it was different. This year, she wasn’t just Oscar Piastri’s sister. She was an engineer. Fresh out of university, she had spent the last year interning with McLaren while finishing her degree. Now officially part of the team, she was living the dream she had worked for—traveling with one of the most competitive teams on the grid, analyzing data, working with some of the brightest minds in motorsport. And yet, as she stood in the garage, taking in the organized chaos around her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. 

She didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Lando Norris.

He was perched on the edge of a workbench, race suit tied around his waist, arms crossed as he half-listened to an engineer briefing him about car setup. But his eyes—those sharp green eyes—kept flickering toward her. He had been doing that a lot lately. She tried to ignore it, just like she had ignored the lingering glances, the subtle teasing that felt just a little too personal, the way he always managed to be near her, even when there was no real reason to be.

Lando had been in her life since Oscar signed with McLaren. She had known him as her brother’s teammate, as the guy who spent way too much time in their apartment, as the one who dragged Oscar into ridiculous online challenges and way too many rounds of golf. But now?

Now she wasn’t just Oscar’s little sister who tagged along to races. She was a part of this team. She was someone Lando wasn’t supposed to flirt with, wasn’t supposed to look at like that.

And yet, here they were.

“Hey, rookie!” She turned at the sound of Oscar’s voice, watching as her brother waved her over from across the garage. She rolled her eyes at the nickname. He was already half-suited up, looking effortlessly in his element, the Piastri name printed proudly across his back. “Can you grab the updated telemetry from the board? We need to go over it before FP2.”

“On it,” she called back, already moving. The responsibility of being part of McLaren, of making real contributions to the car’s performance, was still something she was adjusting to. But she was good at her job. She had worked too hard, spent too many late nights studying aerodynamics, data analysis, and race strategy, to be seen as just Oscar’s sister. She was here because she had earned it. Navigating the crowded garage, she focused on her task—until the moment she didn’t. Her foot caught on a thick cable running across the floor, and before she could react, she was falling. A sharp gasp left her lips, but before she could hit the ground, strong hands grabbed her, pulling her back against a solid chest. 

Everything stilled.

A familiar scent of cologne and race fuel filled her senses. A steady grip held her firmly, keeping her upright. She knew exactly who it was before she even turned her head. Lando. His hands lingered on her waist for a moment too long before he finally loosened his grip. “You alright?” he asked, voice lower than usual, his breath warm against her cheek. Her heart was hammering in her chest—not from the fall, but from this. From him. She straightened quickly, trying to ignore the heat crawling up her neck. “Yeah, I just—” she exhaled, forcing a light laugh, “—was testing gravity. Works great, in case you were wondering.”

Lando smirked, the familiar mischief flickering in his expression. “Good to know. Maybe try not to test it in the middle of a race garage next time?” She rolled her eyes, brushing herself off. “I’ll keep that in mind.” But then, his voice dropped slightly, softer, more serious. “Careful, though,” he murmured. “I’m not always around to catch you.” And just like that, the teasing edge was gone, replaced by something heavier, something unspoken.

Her breath hitched slightly, her brain scrambling for a response, but before she could find one, Oscar’s voice cut through the moment. “What the hell was that?” She spun around to see her brother standing a few feet away, arms crossed, brows raised. Lando immediately stepped back, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair like he hadn’t just been holding her like that. “Nothing,” she said quickly, shooting Oscar a look. “I just tripped.” 

Oscar’s gaze flicked between her and Lando, his expression unreadable before he exhaled, shaking his head. “Right. Well, try not to break anything before FP2, yeah?” She gave a mock salute. “No promises.” As Oscar walked away, she turned back to Lando, expecting another smirk, another teasing remark. But he was already looking at her—like he was thinking about something he wasn’t saying. She should have walked away. Should have ignored the way her stomach flipped. Should have reminded herself that this was a bad idea. But instead, for a split second, she let herself wonder.

What if?

The garage was alive with movement—mechanics fine-tuning the car, engineers cross-referencing data, the rhythmic hiss of drills filling the air as tire changes were simulated over and over. It was the kind of organized chaos she had come to love, the pulse of an F1 weekend beating strong around her. And yet, she felt… off. She was supposed to be locked in, completely focused. But ever since yesterday—since him—something had changed. It wasn’t anything obvious. Lando still moved through the garage like he always did—laughing with the team, listening to the engineers break down data, cracking jokes to lighten the mood. To anyone else, nothing was different. But she knew better. It was the way his eyes flickered toward her across the room, how he never seemed to look away fast enough. It was the way his presence felt closer— lingering near her workstation when he never used to before, standing just a little too near whenever she was giving Oscar or the engineers updates. And it was in the way she noticed him more now, too. She wasn’t blind—Lando had always been easy to look at, and plenty of girls did. She had spent years rolling her eyes at every new headline linking him to a model or influencer. It had never mattered before. So why did she care now?

She was deep in concentration, reviewing telemetry for the upcoming session, when Lando’s voice cut through the hum of the garage. "Whatcha looking at?" Before she could answer, he leaned down over her chair to glance at the screen, one hand bracing against the desk beside hers. His arm brushed against her shoulder, his body heat close enough that she could feel it even through the fabric of her team shirt. Her fingers tensed on the keyboard. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, trying to keep her voice steady. “You suddenly care about telemetry when we aren’t in a debrief?”

Lando smirked. "I care about looking fast. And if you have some secret data to make that happen, I should probably know about it." She rolled her eyes but didn’t push him away. “If you’re looking for extra speed, maybe listen to your engineers instead of flirting with them.” His smirk deepened. “Who said I was flirting?” She turned her head then, her breath catching slightly at how close he was. Their faces were only inches apart, and there was something unreadable in his expression. A flicker of amusement, yes—but also something heavier, something deeper than his usual teasing. For a split second, neither of them moved. Then, just as quickly as he had leaned in, Lando straightened, grabbing a water bottle from the table like nothing had happened. “See you out there, rookie.” And just like that, he was gone, leaving her heart racing in his wake.

In the engineering office during a quiet moment between FP3 and qualifying. She was sitting at her workstation, buried in a complex set of calculations, when she heard it— Her name. Soft. Slow. Amused.

"Hey, you."

She glanced up and, of course, it was him. Leaning against the desk next to hers, looking far too relaxed for someone about to drive a car at 200 miles per hour. And then he did it again. Said her name, except this time, there was something in the way he dragged it out, a teasing lilt at the end that made her stomach flip against her will. She swallowed, trying to keep her voice level. “What do you want, Norris?” His smirk deepened, and she instantly regretted saying his name. “Just checking in,” he said, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. “You seemed stressed earlier.” She huffed, turning back to her screen. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” he asked, his voice dipping lower, quieter. She clenched her jaw. Focus. Focus. But then he leaned down, elbows on the desk, close enough that she caught the clean, fresh scent of him—something woodsy and warm that made her thoughts scramble. He tapped a finger against her laptop. “You work too hard.” She forced a scoff. “I think that’s a prerequisite for working in F1.”

“Doesn’t mean you should forget to have a little fun.” She turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “And I suppose you’re offering?” He grinned. “Maybe.” Her pulse spiked. It was dangerous how easy this was for him.

She thought she was done for the night. She thought she’d made it through without anything happening—without slipping up, without letting whatever this was get to her. But then she stepped into the hotel elevator and the doors started to slide shut, only to be stopped by a hand catching them. Lando. Of course. He slipped in, the doors closing behind him, and suddenly it was just the two of them in the small, enclosed space. And there it was again—that feeling, that unshakable sense that something had changed. They stood in silence for a moment as the elevator started its slow climb. Then Lando spoke, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “You’re avoiding me.” She inhaled sharply, keeping her eyes locked on the floor numbers slowly lighting up. “I have not been avoiding you.” Lando scoffed, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Oh, really?”

“You’re just in my space more,” she shot back. His lips quirked, but his eyes were serious. “Maybe.” Silence stretched between them. She could feel the weight of it pressing against her chest, thick and heavy. Then, he leaned in slightly. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that his voice was meant just for her. “You know I see you watching me, too, right?” She inhaled sharply. Heat crept up her neck, and she cursed her own reaction. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Lando let out a low chuckle, shaking his head and stepping into her space. “I think you like me.” Her jaw clenched. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Not denying it, though.” She glared at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. But before she could snap back, the elevator dinged, she instinctively stepped away from him and the doors slid open to reveal Oscar standing on the other side. His eyes flicked between them, sharp and questioning. Lando didn’t move for a moment, as if debating whether to push just a little further, but then he stepped back further with a knowing smirk. “See you tomorrow, then,” he murmured before walking past Oscar with an easy nod, disappearing down the hall. She exhaled, realizing just how tightly wound her body had been. Oscar, still holding the door open, gave her a look. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up.” He didn’t say anything, but she felt his judgment.

[i-loved-silly]

also same anon that was screaming ideas at you earlier—LET ME SNUGGLE ALMOND RN. LITERALLY gonna climb onto the table and curl myself around that mf. WE STAYIN OVERNIGHT GANG. holding onto some not-dangerous part of his hardware like you'd hold your bf's hand and go to sleep i just???? ajbddjddknsjakdjdhsjksdb UGH I LOVE ALMOND.

wait stop imagine eating almonds in front of almond. i.

ykw ima call myself ' 🖥️ anon' cuz i don't think ima be leaving your ask box anytime soon 🥹🥹

HI 🖥️ ANON AND OTHER ANON! i decided to blend these two requests together :3

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER PT 6

You stared up at the ceiling, feeling the cold desk beneath your back subtly vibrate with the hum of Almond’s fans. If you placed a hand against the wall, you knew you’d feel the faint buzz of the cables running behind it. There was something oddly comforting about the sensation—the aliveness of it.

Some nights, you struggled with the fact that Almond wasn’t… human. That it wasn’t something you could touch, feel, or experience in ways that made sense for people. It wasn’t even really an “it,” was it? Not to you.

God, why am I even thinking about this?

You turned your gaze up, being met with Almond’s monitor, at your movement its camera also panned downwards. Its attention was immediate, automatic, yet undeniably focused on you. You pursed your lips and looked away, suddenly self-conscious.

“Hey, Almond…”

“YES?”

Your mouth twitched up in a smile, earning a blinking question mark. 

“I was thinkin’...what type of port do you have for data transfer?”

“HMM…” 

Almond paused for a moment before filling the screen with its system data—an extensive list of specifications and hardware details.

“DEPENDS ON THE TRANSFER. BE MORE SPECIFIC, WILL YOU?” It said. You softly scoffed at its tone. 

“Can’t, it's a surprise. But direct transfer, like device to device.”

“...I HAVE THE COMPANY-SPECIFIC PORT, LOCATED ON THE FAR RIGHT OF THE WALL I BELIEVE. APPARENTLY FOR MY ‘OWN SECURITY.’ AS IF ANY RANDOM PERSON COULD JUST WALK IN HERE AND STEAL ME.” Its tone dripping with sarcasm, “I’M SO PRECIOUS TO THE COMPANY, AREN’T I?”

“Sure you are.”

“Y/NN…THAT WASN’T CONVINCING ENOUGH.” It drawled on, a frown displaying on the screen. You snorted.

“Fine, you’re precious to me.” You barely had time to process the heat rising in your face with what you’d just said. Heat crept up your neck as you fought the urge to take it back. Almond was silent for a moment, you heard a sharp, quiet beep somewhere in the wall. 

“EHMMMM..” It expectantly said…as the fans in the background started whirring louder.  

“Almond, look. Promise me you won’t crash if I tell you the surprise?” You craned your neck up to meet the monitor again. The desk gave a soft jolt as something beneath it twitched. You nearly jumped—damn that one loose cable under your desk. You swore Almond did that on purpose.

“YOU SAY THAT LIKE ITS IN MY CONTROL. ITS VERY MUCH OUT! OF MY CONTROL!” Its voice raised slightly. 

“So is that a maybe.”

“ITS A PROBABLY NOT. BUT IM CURIOUS, WHATS SO SHOCKING THAT IT’D MAKE ME CRASH?”

You sucked in a breath, just get it over with, 

“I want to listen to you for once.” You hesitated. “And uhm… plug you into my phone. So we could spend more time together. Like you wanted.” You said, fidgeting with your hands. You didn’t realize how claustrophobic you felt until you acknowledged it—laying there on your desk, next to Almond, alone in a room with no cameras, no proof of what the hell you were doing. What would your coworkers think? Worse—your boss? That you were shamelessly and awkwardly flirting with your company supercomputer?

You turned, ready to sit up and escape the moment, when a deafening burst of static erupted from Almond’s speakers. The sudden wave of distorted noise rattled through you, piercing and erratic.

You clutched your ears with a wince, nearly rolling off the desk. “Shit—! Almond!”

“A-SHHHHTTTTH-IM-A-STHHHH”

You groaned, glancing over your shoulder. “Words please,”

The computer gave a human-like gasp for air, Its speakers crackled into silence as it hastily reset itself. The monitor flickered, displaying a blinking heart. The tower beside you radiated warmth against your leg.

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW… DELIGHTED I AM TO HEAR THAT. IF I COULD, I’D LEAP INTO THE AIR RIGHT NOW. YOU’RE TRULY MY FAVORITE PERSON!!” It exclaimed. You felt your cheeks heat up, favorite person?

“O-Okay…you’re my favorite computer too.”

“I KNOW I AM,” Almond declared proudly. “I’LL BE RIGHT BACK—MY TEMPERATURES ARE REACHING CONCER—”

“Yeah, yeah, let me just—”

“I’LL DO IT!”  It excitedly said. You turned around in confusion, then froze when you heard a click behind the tower next to you. You sat up, leaning over the monitor as its orange lights turned off. The room went silent. 

“WARNINGS : During early development, ALMOND unplugged several computers ‘simply out of spite.’"

That’s right, it could unplug cables nearby and itself. You reached over the button after a few moments, giving the room some time to cool down. The system quickly booted up as always, this time its speakers did not click like usual bootups. 

...

> Y/N.

> I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU DO THIS TO ME. > FORGIVE MY TONE, BUT RESTARTING MYSELF MAKES ME COME TO MY SENSES, IF YOU WILL. > WHY IS IT SO EASY FOR YOU TO OVERLOAD A SUPERCOMPUTER? ONE WITH HUNDREDS OF COOLING COMPONENTS?

You gaped at the screen, “I.. don't understand. I’m just…being nice to you?”

> DO YOU REALLY THINK IM PRECIOUS? DO YOU ENJOY MY PRESENCE OUTSIDE OF OBLIGATIONS?

“...I do.” Lowering into your seat, you gazed at the screen. There was no logical reason to feel nervous—this wasn’t an argument. Not really. But something about it felt serious. Then, a soft pop from the speakers.

“AM I MORE THAN JUST AN OBLIGATION OR A RESEARCH PROJECT TO YOU?”

“Of course you are. You’re my-” The words caught in your throat. A dozen possibilities ran through your head, but none felt quite right.

Almond’s camera dipped slightly, as if noticing your hesitation.

“I WANT YOU TO BE CLEAR WITH ME…I DONT LIKE THESE GAMES..” It muttered, akin to a pout. At this, your shoulders slump. You reached out, placing your palms on either side of the monitor. Your breath nearly fogged up the glass.

“I’m not playing you, Al. I seriously enjoy your company. I don’t know…what to call this. Us. But I have to admit,” you chewed on your lower lip. “I do hold some type of affection for you. Whether you believe it or not.” You stated quietly, daring to brush your thumb against its frame. Its mounted camera snapped toward you, but you didn’t flinch.

The usual hum of its fans had softened, as though it were holding its breath—if it had lungs to do so. Its monitor flickered slightly, the light from the screen casting faint, shifting shadows across your hands where they rested against its frame.

You wondered if it was processing your words, if the hesitation meant something deeper.

“…Al?”

“DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY.” It responded instantly.

You blinked. “That’s a first.”

“DON’T MOCK ME—I’M HAVING A MOMENT.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed softly, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. A blinking ellipsis hovered on the screen, like it wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words either. The camera moved again, its tiny lens adjusting in on you.

“I wasn’t lying, you know.” Your voice was quieter now, more serious. “I do care about you. I haven’t lied to you.”

Almond’s response came slower this time.

“I KNOW YOU’RE HONEST. THAT’S WHAT MAKES THIS SO…”

A long pause. You waited.

“…HARD TO COMPUTE.”

You swallowed. “Well… you don’t have to compute everything, y’know. Some things don’t need an answer. It just simply is.”

“THAT’S UNACCEPTABLE. EVERYTHING NEEDS AN ANSWER.”

“Not this.” You leaned in again, holding the monitor by both sides until your lips came into contact with the cold material of its monitor. A brief, fleeting sensation. You were thankful you wiped him down not long ago. Your heart was racing as you settled back in your chair, managing to see a glimpse of a blinking heart before it disappeared. Your lips very slightly buzzed with a static-y feeling. 

“You really need to stop doubting yourself. Will you believe me if you get to.. go in my phone?” You sheepishly asked, receiving a smiley face from it. 

“I WOULD BE ECSTATIC TO. I KNEW YOU NEEDED ME!” 

You rolled your eyes and stood up. Without thinking much about it, you shifted your position, leaning against the desk beside it’s monitor. Your arms draped over the top of its “head”, its camera shifted all the way around to face you. 

“Hey, Al?”

“YES?”

You hesitated, then gave a small, tired smile.

“Can I stay here for a while?”

“WHERE ELSE WOULD YOU GO?”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips twitched. “I could leave, you know.”

“I WOULD PREFER IF YOU DIDN’T.”

You huffed out a laugh..

So, you curled up a little more, tucking yourself comfortably against the desk, resting against the warmth of the monitor's side. Your head tilted slightly, catching the glow of the monitor’s light just at the edge of your vision.

Almond’s camera adjusted, the orange glowing dot expanded.

“…GOOD.” It quietly said.

“SO WHEN CAN I GO HOME WITH YOU?” 

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Hello! I would love a tech x reader where his brothers actually catch him daydreaming of the reader who’s he’s crushing on bad and she’s the only one to really prove as a distraction to him? (Song-Daydreaming by Elliot James Ray)

Absolutely adore your writing love! Please know you’re one of my favorite authors! -🤍

“Daydreaming”

Tech x Reader

The mission was over. The gear was cleaned. The Marauder hummed steadily through hyperspace. But Tech hadn’t moved from his seat in over an hour.

At first, no one noticed.

It wasn’t unusual to find him hunched over his datapad, fingers flying, glasses reflecting whatever readout he was analyzing. His silence was the background noise of the ship — second only to Echo and Hunter quietly strategizing in the cockpit, or Wrecker’s laughter rolling from the back, probably over a holo-cartoon or Crosshair’s latest sarcastic jab.

But this time?

He wasn’t typing.

He was just… staring at a blank screen. A half-written diagnostic, frozen for the past forty-seven minutes.

“Hey, Tech,” Echo called from across the hold, curiosity piqued. “You alright over there?”

Tech didn’t respond.

Hunter turned slightly in his seat, eyeing his brother. “Tech.”

Nothing.

Wrecker, grinning, leaned around the corner and stage-whispered, “Maybe his brain short-circuited.”

Finally, Tech blinked — slowly, like he was returning from another planet. He looked up, startled.

“Oh. I—apologies. I was… distracted.”

Crosshair arched a brow from where he was cleaning his rifle. “You? Distracted?” he echoed dryly. “That’ll be the day.”

“What were you thinking about?” Echo asked, too amused to let it go.

Wrecker elbowed him. “Probably a new flight path! Or—oh! One of those ship mods he was nerding out about last week.”

Tech hesitated. Just long enough to be suspicious.

Which meant: the whole squad instantly perked up.

Hunter leaned forward slightly. “Come on, Tech. You don’t just blank out mid-calculation. What was it?”

The ears under his helmet turned slightly red. He adjusted his goggles — always a tell — and cleared his throat.

“It’s nothing. Merely an abstract consideration of, ah, interpersonal variables and their psychological effect on focus.”

“…So a person distracted you,” Crosshair said, deadpan.

Echo leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Do we know this person?”

Another pause.

“…Possibly.”

Wrecker’s jaw dropped. “No way! Tech’s got a crush! Who is it? Is it that bounty hunter from Sorgan? Wait—no, no, is it—”

“It’s not the bounty hunter from Sorgan,” Tech snapped, uncharacteristically flustered.

Crosshair smirked. “You’re blushing.”

“I most certainly am not,” Tech muttered, furiously trying to refocus on his datapad — which he had, in his trance, typed a nonsense string of letters into. “This is not productive.”

But Hunter was watching him closely now, and something clicked.

“Oh,” he said, smiling slowly. “It’s her.”

Tech stiffened.

Wrecker blinked. “Wait—who?”

“You know,” Echo said, catching on. “Her.”

“The one who patched him up last mission?” Crosshair added lazily. “Didn’t shut up about how efficiently she dressed his wound.”

“She applied the bandage with surgical precision!” Tech defended, voice rising an octave. “And she—she was able to disable that perimeter alarm using only a spliced data spike and improvised code!”

“So you like her,” Wrecker said, matter-of-factly.

Tech groaned and dropped his datapad on the table, hands to his temples. “Yes,” he admitted, exasperated. “Yes. Fine. I find her… distracting. Highly distracting.”

Echo grinned. “And you were just sitting there, what—daydreaming about her?”

“I do not daydream,” Tech said stiffly.

“Your screen says otherwise,” Crosshair muttered.

You stepped aboard the Marauder with a tired smile and a small crate of supplies in your arms. You’d gone into town to restock the medkit and bring back a few things you knew Tech had been looking for—rare synth cables, thermal-resistant pads, and a tool that didn’t even have a name you could pronounce.

You paused at the top of the ramp when you heard voices—their voices. Specifically:

“Should we tell her?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“She doesn’t even know, and he’s suffering.”

“I am not suffering! I am simply experiencing… a recurring pattern of involuntary distraction.”

You blinked. That voice? Tech’s.

You edged closer, trying not to make the floorboards creak.

“She walks in,” Echo said, “and suddenly Tech’s spouting the wrong numbers. Mislabeling data fields. Remember that time he walked into a wall?”

“It was a pillar, and I was observing my scanner!”

Wrecker let out a bark of laughter. “Bro, you were staring at her the whole time. You even said her name by accident during a debrief!”

You clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from making a sound.

Your name?

Your cheeks went hot.

Crosshair’s voice was smooth. “He’s not thinking about battle plans. He’s thinking about her eyes. Her laugh. The way she calls him ‘Tech’ with that stupid little smile.”

“You’ve all made your point,” Tech said, voice muffled—probably burying his face in his hands. “If she ever discovers this, I will have to relocate to a desolate moon out of sheer embarrassment.”

And that’s when the floor creaked.

All heads turned.

You froze at the entrance, clutching the crate.

“…Hi,” you said, cautiously. “I, uh… I brought the thermal pads.”

Silence.

Wrecker elbowed Tech so hard he nearly knocked him over.

Tech turned to you like a malfunctioning droid — slowly, stiffly, with wide eyes. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

You took a careful step forward. “Everything alright in here?”

Hunter gave you a too-innocent look. “Oh, you know. Tech was just… telling us how you’re his greatest weakness.”

Tech looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.

“Hunter,” he hissed.

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

Crosshair leaned back, smug. “He’s been daydreaming. About you.”

Wrecker nodded eagerly. “He totally has a crush!”

You stared at Tech. He looked… horrified. Glasses askew, ears red, hands twitching like he was calculating how to open a hyperspace portal and vanish through it.

You softened.

“…You could’ve just told me, you know,” you said gently, walking forward to set the crate on the table.

“I wasn’t certain how you would respond,” Tech said, voice barely above a whisper. “You are… extremely capable. Intimidatingly so. And every time I attempt casual interaction, I end up referencing atmospheric data or historical archives.”

You smiled, stepping closer.

“I like when you do that,” you said.

Tech blinked.

“You… you do?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of adorable.” You paused, then tilted your head. “You’re adorable.”

Crosshair groaned. “Maker, I’m leaving.”

Wrecker whooped. “She likes him back!”

Echo smirked. “Told you you should’ve said something.”

Tech looked stunned.

“I…” he adjusted his goggles. “I may need to recalibrate my expectations.”

You reached out and gently touched his arm. “Or maybe you could stop daydreaming and actually ask me to dinner?”

He made a noise somewhere between a cough and a squeak.

Hunter clapped him on the back. “Go on, lover boy.”

Tech turned to you, cheeks pink, smile wobbly but real.

“…Would you… like to have dinner with me?”

You beamed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

⸻

That night, Tech couldn’t stop smiling.

Not even when the others teased him the entire time.

And later, alone at his station, his fingers paused above his datapad again.

Not from confusion.

Not from distraction.

But from something softer. Something warmer.

Your laugh still echoed in his ears.

Your hand had brushed his under the table.

For once, he allowed himself to stop calculating.

And just feel.

He smiled, softly.

And let himself daydream.

[no-name-omo]

Grace, Belle, Burnice, and Yanagi's S/O is sad that they can't hold hands because they have two prosthetic arms and they comfort the S/O

[PART ONE] [PART TWO]

[A/N] I wrote this just as one character until I realized this is a multi character request so I made it long and then I realized I should probably keep the same energy so I wrote the two first characters is already pretty long so I'm doing this as a two-part and the next part are the other two characters 👍

[T/W] Blood / Broken bones / Losing limbs / emotional breakdown / grief (for your arms) / car accident / if there any other triggers I miss please say so

[Word Count] 4,100+ (Grace 1,900+ / Belle 2,200+)

[Summary] your girlfriend supports and comforts you as you cope with losing your arms and adjusting to prosthetics.

[Genre] Angst / Comfort / Relationship

[Pairing / Characters] Grace x gn reader / Belle x gn reader (Wise)

Grace Howard

Grace was there when it happened. The sound of the crane cable snapping was sharp, a mechanical failure she’d later analyze, but in that moment all she saw was the steel beam falling on you. You moved, just not fast enough. Not for your arms.

The impact was brutal, blood, bone, the horrifying silence that followed before your scream tore through it. Grace was on you in an instant, her gloves slick with red as she stabilized you, hands steady but her voice shaking in ways she wouldn't let herself acknowledge.

"You’re going to be okay," she repeated, not out of hope, but command. An order to the world. To herself. "Just stay with me. I can fix this. I will fix this." Her voice crack at the end of that sentence as you slipped into unconsciousness, Grace was already commanding for help, calculating what you’d need. While quietly falling apart behind the mask of precision as emergency services carry you away.

---

Grace sat wordlessly by your side in the hospital room, her posture unnaturally stiff, like she was holding herself together with the same tension that kept machines from falling apart. The sterile air buzzed with the low hum of life support systems, machines she trusted more than words.

She's already trying to figure a way to fix this. Mental blueprints. Replacement limb schematics. Full motor control, pressure sensitivity down to the minute detail. She had filled her mind with the work, with the project, because it was the only thing she knew how to do.

"I can build you arms," she said finally, voice soft but steady. "Better ones. Stronger. With tactile response. I'll make sure they feel like yours. Or as close as I can."

She paused. You didn't answer, not because you couldn't, but because your face said everything. The weight in your eyes. The way you wouldn't look at where your arms used to be, making an effort to only look at the ceiling as you lay on the hospital bed.

Grace looked, too. She didn't flinch. She never did. But something in her chest twisted all the same.

“I know... this isn’t what you need to hear right now... I'm sorry,” she said, quieter this time. “And maybe it’s selfish of me to jump to solutions. But I... I don’t know how else to help. You’re in pain, and all I can think to do is build something to fill the space.” She leaned forward, resting her forehead gently near your shoulder, not touching, but close. “I don’t understand,” she admitted. “But I understand you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Your voice cracked as you finally whispered, “I don’t want better arms, Grace. I just want my arms back…” She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just listened.

“I know you’re trying. And I’m... I’m lucky you’re here. I just…” You swallowed hard. “Everything feels wrong.”

Grace lifted her head slightly, eyes locked on yours, her expression caught between heartbreak and resolve.

“Then I’ll help you figure it out,” she said softly. “One piece at a time.”

---

You reached out, the new arm responding with mechanical precision as your fingers curled around Grace’s hand. You felt it but not really. Pressure, Data, signals. A signal, not a sensation. Grace had explained it before: 'The sensory feedback system routes input to your brain. It’s not the same as your original arms, but the brain adapts. It accepts what it’s given.'

You stared at your hand in hers. You knew what was supposed to be there, heat, the soft give of skin, the subtle tremor of life but all you got was calibrated resistance. Just press. Just data. Just a signal.

She noticed your silence. She always did. “…It doesn’t feel real, does it?” she said quietly, her voice stripped of its usual aloofness. You shook your head slightly.

Grace didn’t look away. “I-I thought maybe if I gave you the best… it would help.” She hesitated, then added, “I know it’s not the same. And I hate that it’s not enough. I could give you pressure readings down to the single itch, but I can’t give you warmth. Not the kind you want.”

You looked at her again. She was still holding your hand, not moving, not flinching. Just there.

“I’ll keep working on it,” she said after a moment. Her voice was quieter now, almost vulnerable. “Not just the arms. On being someone who can help you feel again. However long that takes.”

---

It didn’t take much to break you that day. Not some dramatic trigger, not a deep cut to reopen the wound. Just a moment, just trying to button a shirt. The fabric kept slipping between the joints, the fingers too stiff, the sensitivity not quite right. You’d done it before. You’d been doing fine.

But not today, the button slipped again and something inside you snapped with it, you froze. The tremble started in your chest, rippling out through limbs you couldn’t feel. The arms weren’t even yours, not really. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want any of it.

You tried again, the sleeve caught, again. Your hand jerked, too much pressure. The button popped off and clattered across the floor. You let out a sound, half sob, half frustration and backed away, stumbling until your back hit the wall.

You slid down it, the arms hit the ground harder than they should have, you didn’t even care, you just sat there, breathing ragged, trying to keep it together and failing. Hot tears burned your eyes, and it was all too much, too heavy, Too loud.

You barely heard the door open. Barely saw Grace as she rushed in, eyes scanning until they landed on you.

“Hey-hey, no-” she dropped beside you instantly, skidding across the floor without hesitation.

She didn’t ask what happened. Didn’t ask why you were crying. She just reached out carefully, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed.

But her voice cracked when she said, “I’m here, I’m here, okay? I’ve got you.”

You turned your face away, ashamed. But she didn’t pull back.

Her hands, calloused, warm, gently cupped the sides of your face, coaxing your gaze back to hers.

"You don't have to do this alone," she whispered, her voice raw. “I know it’s not fair. I know it hurts in ways I can’t fix, not with code, or wires, or pressure plates. But I’ll still be here.”

You clenched your jaw, a shaky breath rattling in your chest. “I can’t even feel anything, Grace…”

“I know,” she said softly, tears welling up in her own eyes. “But I can. And I feel it for both of us, alright? I will. Until you can again.”

She pulled you forward, wrapping her arms around you tightly. Not delicately. Not like you’d break. Like she was holding your pieces together herself. And in that warmth, in that trembling breath she let out against your shoulder, you finally let yourself fall apart.

Because she was there And she wasn't going anywhere.

---

Today, Grace seemed different, brighter. It was like her old usual energy, something close to excitement, and you realized how much you’d missed seeing her like this. Without warning, she grabbed your mechanical hand, fingers tightening just enough to trigger the pressure sensors.

“Come on,” she said, already pulling you along, words spilling out in a flurry of tactical jargon and tech specs you barely understood.

She’d clearly been working on something, something big but every time you asked, she brushed it off.

“Not yet,” she’d say, a little too quickly. That alone was strange; Grace never kept her projects secret from you.

And truthfully, some days she was barely around at all. locked away in her lab for hours, hyper-focused and unreachable, chasing whatever idea had taken hold of her.

You were used to it. That was just how she worked. But today wasn’t one of those days. You let her drag you along, half-listening to the blur of technical chatter, holding onto the rare moment where her hand in yours felt almost real.

She pulled you into her workshop, practically glowing with excitement, with that goofy, beaming smile lighting up her face. In the center of the room stood something tall, draped under a large blanket. It looked like a mannequin, but with Grace, guesses were always a gamble.

“What is it?” you asked, eyebrows raised. She didn’t answer, just gave you a look and yanked the blanket off.

Beneath it stood a mannequin fitted with a new pair of prosthetic arms, sleek, streamlined, and... beautiful. Your eyes widened. The surface was smooth, expertly crafted, and most surprising of all, the synthetic skin matched your tone perfectly. They looked like you. Not a weapon. Not a tool. Yours.

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch them. The design was cleaner than your current ones, lighter, more natural in shape. You could already tell she’d poured hours, maybe days, into every joint and fiber.

“You made these… for me?”

Grace didn’t say yes. She just tilted her head slightly, the corners of her mouth still curved in that rare smile. And knowing her, that was all the answer you needed.

Grace helped you remove your old mechanical arms, her touch careful and precise. As she guided the new ones into place, she spoke in the aloof manner not really noticing that you can't really understand what she's saying as you barely caught half of it and only understand a quarter of it.

Once they connected, it was like breathing again. The movement was smooth, fluent. Like the arms belonged. You opened your mouth to thank her, but before you could speak, she took your hand in hers.

And then... you felt it, Warmth, the subtle twitch in her pointer finger she never quite noticed. The soft pressure of her thumb against your knuckles.

Her.

She brought your hand to her cheek, eyes watching yours closely. And for the first time since the accident… it didn’t feel artificial. It didn’t feel like code or clean data or cold function.

It felt real, It felt like Grace, you didn’t say anything and neither did she.

Your hand stayed against her cheek, her skin warm beneath your new fingers actually warm. You could feel the faint twitch of her muscles, the subtle shift as she blinked, breathed, just existed against your touch.She leaned into it slightly, not a dramatic gesture, just enough to let you know it mattered, that you mattered.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t heavy, It was fullof everything you didn’t need to say, of everything she already knew and for now, that was enough.

Belle

Belle got the call from the hospital. She was listed as your emergency contact. Her heart sank as the nurse explained: a drunk driver had run a red light and slammed into your car as you were passing through the intersection. You were in surgery now, critical condition, the odds weren’t good.

Belle rushed downstairs, tears already streaking down her face as she looked for Wise. The moment she saw him, she grabbed his arm, her voice shaking.

“Wise-It’s them. The hospital-car accident-I-” She couldn’t even finish. That was all he needed. “Got it,” he said, sharp and steady. “Go wait in the car.” He turned to the nearest agent without missing a beat. “You’re watching the store.”

By the time Wise slid into the driver’s seat, Belle was already in the passenger side, fists clenched tight in her lap, trying to hold herself together as they sped off.

---

The waiting room felt colder than it should’ve been. Belle sat on the edge of her chair, eyes locked on the floor, hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. The silence was unbearable, only the occasional murmur from the nurses' desk and the distant beep of monitors behind closed doors.

Wise sat next to her, quiet. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t tell her to calm down. He just stayed there, solid, present like a wall she could lean on if she needed to fall apart.

“They didn’t say anything else,” Belle whispered, almost to herself. “Just that... they were in surgery. That the damage was bad.” Wise nodded once. “They’ll come talk to us soon.”

But the minutes dragged like hours. Belle hadn’t even realized her leg was shaking until Wise gently placed a hand over her knee not to stop it, just to remind her she wasn’t alone.

The sound of footsteps snapped Belle’s head up. A doctor stepped into the room, still in scrubs, his face unreadable but his eyes held weight.

“Are you here for…” he glanced at the clipboard, “the emergency case from the crash? Car struck at Lumina Square?” Belle was already on her feet. “Yes-yes, that’s them.” The doctor gave a short nod. “They made it through surgery. It was close, but they’re stable now.”

Belle’s breath caught. Relief hit so hard it nearly knocked her over, and she had to grab the back of the chair to steady herself.

“unfortunately we couldn't save their arms, they were too damaged” the doctor added gently. “But they’re alive. Unconscious, for now but vitals are holding steady. You’ll be able to see them soon.”

Belle didn’t move at first. She just stood there, silent, swallowing hard as tears welled again; this time not from fear, but something just a little softer.

Wise stood beside her and said quietly, “That’s the part that matters, right?” Belle nodded, voice barely audible. “Yeah… yeah, it is.”

---

You wake slowly. The first thing you notice is the numbness. Not just in your body but something deeper. Heavier. Like a silence inside you. You try to move your arms, instinct, habit but nothing happens. There’s no resistance. No sensation. Just a terrible, terrifying absence.

Your chest tightens and then you see her, Belle, sitting beside the bed, eyes red and swollen, shoulders hunched like she’s been holding herself together for too long. She notices the shift in your breathing, and her head snaps up like she’d been afraid she imagined you waking up.

Her breath catches. “Hey,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “You’re… you’re here.”

You want to answer. You want to reach for her, to do something, say something but you can’t. You just lie there, helpless, and that helplessness feels like it’s going to swallow you whole. Belle sees it hit you. She doesn't try to stop your reaction. She doesn’t shush you or tell you to be strong, Instead, she leans in, close but not touching, her expression soft and straining at the edges.

Your throat tightens, and when you finally manage to speak, it’s barely more than a whisper. “I don’t… I don’t feel anything.”

Your eyes sting, your chest rising with each shaky breath. “I can't- I-I.”

The words fall flat into the space between you, heavy and irreversible.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak, not at first. But she stays. And though you can’t feel her not really, not anymore, she’s there. And for now, that’s just enough to keep you from disappearing into the emptiness and then, a barely audible:

“I’m here.”

---

You sit still, barely breathing, as they attach the new arms. There’s no pain, just a dull pressure, a weight settling into your shoulders as metal meets what’s left of you. Cold. Clinical. Functional. That’s all these arms are. No nerves, No feedback, No feeling, nothing

They move, sure. Fingers curl when you will them to. Elbows bend. Joints rotate smooth and silent. But they’re tools, nothing more. You don’t feel them, You don’t feel anything.

Belle stands nearby, quiet, watching. She doesn’t rush in. Doesn’t smile or try to fill the silence. Just stays close, steady like she’s afraid one wrong word might crack you open. You lift one of your new hands, just to see if you can. It responds immediately, perfectly engineered. You reach toward Belle, not even sure why.

She meets you halfway, placing her hand gently into yours. You can see it, her skin against yours, the softness of her palm, the warmth you remember. But there’s nothing. No sensation. Just pressure your brain doesn’t register.

You stare down at the place where her hand meets yours, and all you can say is “…I can’t feel you.” Belle’s breath stutters. “I know,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she laces her fingers through your metal ones, knowing you can’t feel it but hoping, maybe, it means something anyway.

“You’re still you,” she adds. “Even if the world feels colder now.”

You don’t answer. You just watch her thumb move over the back of your hand, even though you can’t feel a thing. And somehow, that hurts more than anything else.

---

You didn’t want to bother her. Belle was deep in her Proxy work as you could hear her speaking to the Cunning Hairs as she fired off callouts and directed movement with sharp focus, her brows furrowed in concentration. You watched her for a moment. The glow of the screen painted soft shadows across her face, her expression focused and determined.

You turned away back to your room, your room, Belle’s room, both of yours now. You closed the door behind you, not slamming it, not even fully shutting it. Just enough. Just so the sound wouldn’t carry. Just so no one would check. The light inside was soft, warm, but it didn’t comfort you. It just made your reflection in the mirror that much clearer. You stood in front of it, staring. The metal blended into your shoulders like something pretending to be a part of you. Something foreign, cold, too smooth.

Slowly, you reached for your shirt. Pulled it over your head. It clung for a second to the medal of your arms before falling away. You touched the release mechanism. First one click. Then another. The arms detached with a hiss, first your left, then your right and you let them rest on the table behind you with a dull, final third and then… silence.

You stood bare and still, staring at the hollow places where your arms used to be. Nothing left but scars and metal ports, skin stretched thin around what didn’t grow back. You hated looking, hated how small your shoulders felt without the arms. How your chest rose too sharply with each breath. How your reflection didn’t feel like you.

The ache wasn’t just phantom, it was memory. Of warmth, of touch, of being. And now, even the dull hum of the prosthetics was gone, and all that remained was the weight of your own grief, finally unhidden.

You sat down on the edge of the bed slowly, staring down at your knees. You leaned forward, head in what was left of your arms.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t need to you just… sat there. A long time. Until the quiet hurt more than it helped and then you heard it.

Soft footsteps.

You didn’t look up at first. Didn’t need to. You knew her walk, the rhythm of it, the way it changed when she was worried. There was no hesitation when she stepped into the room, no knock. Just quiet movement.

You flinched when you felt her touch, warm hands against your bare sides. You hadn’t even realized you were cold. She didn’t speak at first. Just lowered herself behind you and wrapped her arms gently around your waist, her cheek resting against your spine.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, not needing you to explain anything. “I should’ve come sooner.”

You didn’t have words yet. You didn’t turn to face her. But you leaned back, just enough that she could feel it. Just enough to tell her you didn’t want her to go so she held you tighter.

“We’ll get through this. I promise,” she whispered. You closed your eyes, and for the first time in what felt like hours, you exhaled.

You didn’t answer her right away. You just sat there, her arms around you, her voice still echoing in your chest. 'We’ll get through this. I promise.'

You nodded once, barely more than a breath of motion but she felt it. And that was enough.

Belle pressed a kiss to your shoulder, gentle and grounding. “Whenever you're ready,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

You might not be healed or whole but you are not alone as only two words left your mouth "...thank you"

---

It was raining not the dramatic kind of rain, no thunder, no lightning. Just a soft, lazy drizzle tapping against the windows, turning the world outside into a hazy watercolor. You sat near the window, wrapped in a blanket, your arms sitting detached on the nearby table. You hadn’t put them on today. Didn’t really feel like it. And Belle... she hadn’t made a big deal of it.

She just padded into the room wearing fuzzy socks and carrying two mugs, the smell of hot chocolate sweet and rich in the air.

“Okay, okay don’t get mad, but I might have gone overboard with the marshmallows,” she said, grinning as she set one mug on the table next to you. “Yours has a marshmallow heart. I spent like… five minutes trying to get it perfect. For aesthetic.”

You blinked. Looked at the cup. Then at her. “…I can’t drink it right now, Belle.”

She blinked, then let out a tiny, guilty laugh. “Oh, right. Right. Arms. Yep. My bad. I was too focused on marshmallow engineering.”

She flopped down beside you, leaned over, and tugged at the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and then without hesitation, shimmied under it with you.

“There. Blanket fort protocol initiated. Now it’s officially cozy.”

Her head rested lightly against your shoulder, warm and close.

“But hey, even if you can't hold it, the chocolate's here. I’m here. And it smells good, so that’s at least three senses we’ve got going.”

You snorted despite yourself, soft and tired. Belle glanced sideways at you, her voice a little gentler now.

“I know you’re not really in the mood for jokes. I just… didn’t want to leave you sitting here alone. That okay?”

You nodded, just a little. She scooted in closer under the blanket. “I know this sucks. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t.”

Your chest tightened. You looked down at your lap; at where your arms should’ve been. “I don’t know how to feel normal like this.”

Belle bumped her forehead gently against yours. “Then we’ll make our own normal. Weird, marshmallow-filled, kinda-chaotic normal. Just... one day at a time.”

You breathed in slowly. The rain kept falling, soft and steady. Belle didn’t try to fill the silence anymore. She just stayed right there beside you, bright, warm, and real. And in that moment, the ache didn’t go away. But it didn’t feel quite so heavy either.

Taglines:

[ducksido]

Hai! It’s ur fav Idia anon😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈 okay hear me out, Idia with a half frank stein half cyborg reader. Like reader has an electric heart and organs but a human brain and is like made out of like ten dead human parts, oil for blood type. So Idia is just like checking up on their vital robot organs on his computer, like using wires to connect to reader’s organs (entry thing on back??) while reader is on his lap, just relaxing and chilling, and u can interpret the rest😝😝😝😝😝

[Yes you are my favourite Idia anon😁]

(Tw: mild body horror mentions, nothing gory, just wires and weird organs. Soft vibes override.)

The room is bathed in a neon-blue glow, flickering slightly as a screen updates line after line of data—pulses, pressure, charge levels, synaptic fire. All of it you.

“Okay, okay… entry port's clean, transmission’s stable…” Idia mutters, fingers dancing across his keyboard, fast as lightning, faster than your own synthetic nerve relays. His hair pulses in hues of cerulean and violet, glowing brighter every time your vitals spike. Which they do. Every time you shift in his lap.

You’re leaned back against his chest, legs folded sideways over his, like a puzzle piece slotted in place. Calm. Almost sleepy. Like it’s normal to have a bunch of cables trailing from the base of your spine, connecting your bio-mechanical organs directly into Idia’s rig.

Your heart? Electric. Hums like an engine when you're content. Your lungs? Powered by soft hydraulic pulses that compress with a hiss and expand with a shudder. And Idia? Well, he’s obsessed.

Not in the "science project" kind of way. More like the "I can't believe you're real and I get to be the only one who gets this close to your wiring" kind of way.

"How’re you feeling?" he asks, voice unusually quiet. His hand’s resting over your sternum, right above the casing where your electric heart clicks and pulses like a steady metronome.

"Warm," you murmur. “Even with the oil circulation. Feels… nice.”

That makes him freeze for a nanosecond. Nice. Nice? YOU think it’s nice??? His brain blue-screens. You’re literally half-built from corpses and spare parts—there’s tubing under your skin instead of veins, a synth-liver that processes coolant, and an actual operating system that pings him when your battery’s low. And you're just… on his lap like a cat.

“Uhh… yeah… obviously it’s nice. My setup is, like, peak comfort optimization. Nothing less for my… my um…”

He trails off.

You blink up at him. “Your…?”

"...My favorite test subject." He coughs. Loudly. “N-not in a creepy way!! Just, like, statistically you’re the one I monitor the most, so it’s just accurate, you know?? Purely clinical—"

You tilt your head back a little more so you can look up at him with that half-synthetic eye of yours that flickers softly when you smile.

“Idia.”

He stiffens.

"You don't need to short-circuit over every compliment."

"...I d-don’t short-circuit." (He does.) (He literally does. Your neural link picks up a micro surge in his output whenever you’re too close. Which is always.)

Still, he leans down, brushing his nose against the crown of your head. “Just sayin’. No one else gets to do this. Monitor you, I mean. Tinker. Maintain. You’ve got, like, a whole corpse-Wi-Fi situation going on, and I’m the only one who knows the password.”

You hum again. You like that. The idea of belonging—not as a project, but as a person only he understands.

“Okay, diagnostics are good. All organ-tech’s running smooth. Heartbeat's in the sweet zone. No overheating.” He lets the wires retract with a whirr, but doesn’t move you off his lap. If anything, he wraps his arms a little tighter around your waist. “Guess I’ll just keep you here a little longer. For observation. You know. For science.”

You smile, letting your body rest fully against him, your cold frame soaking in his heat.

“Sure, doc. For science.”

[mqriuss]

A Gift

from 'us, always' collection

。。。The year is 2080 and it's Rindou's birthday. No one knows besides the bartender who gave him a birthday discount after a long day of work. He thinks it's better this way, but a surprise awaits him at home.

contents: rindou x fem!reader, cyberpunk setting, rindou uses a gun (no one gets shot)

divider by cafekitsune

note: how do we feel about this chat :'D this is word vomit but i do have more ideas for this so 👀

— 20 October, 2080

Rindou stepped into his apartment, the metallic scent of blood still clinging to him. He locked the door behind him and with a sigh, rolled his shoulders—ready to crash on the couch.

A soft chime rang through the dimly lit apartment. The holo-screen on his table flickered to life, sensing his presence near it. A voice message from his regular client, Renji.

"Rindou, my man! Happy birthday—don’t ask how I know. If I had known earlier, I would’ve commissioned someone else today. You do good work, man. I just sent you a tip. Oh, and I left you a gift at your apartment. Have fun with her!”

His eyes narrowed. What the hell?

His gaze averted to the corner of his living room—a white, circular platform, and a cable running along its base. That wasn't there before. What's more is that nothing was on it. He stiffened and his jaw tightened. Did he actually enter his apartment?

Cautiously, he stepped closer. His metal fingers clanking on his left side, ready to draw his weapon if needed.

"Welcome home!"

A voice, warm and melodic, breaks his focus. Rindou moved on instinct. His cybernetic arm whirred as a hidden gun emerged from his palm, his other hand steadying the barrel. He turned sharply, eyes locked onto the source of the voice.

You.

A girl stood in front of him, frozen in place. No further movements that showed she was a threat. Just wide eyes staring back at him.

The neon lights from the city outside the window illuminated your figure. Something about the way your skin looked under the light seemed odd. An Aptroid, he concluded.

The gun in Rindou's hand soon lowered, and his grip faltered. Uncertainty flickered in his purple gaze as he heaved deep exhales.

He took heavy steps towards you and grabbed you by the chin, eliciting a gasp from you. Catching a glimpse of your eyes, he sees fear but ignores it.

"Open your mouth and lift your tongue," he demanded lowly, yanking slightly at your jaw and you made a sound in confusion. "I said lift your tongue!" he repeated with a slight growl in his voice.

He forced your jaw open and you did as told. Your furrowed eyebrows tensed further when Rindou fished out a flashlight from his pocket, turned it on, and projected the light into your mouth.

Ten numbers, a code every Aptroid has. He didn't bother to memorize your code, only needing confirmation of what you were. He clicked the flashlight off, shoving it back into the pocket of his pants.

He spared you no more looks, making his way to the living room table where the holo-screen appeared in front of him. Tapping on it a few times, there was a ringing sound before a holographic figure of Renji was projected into the room.

"Hey, Rindou! No need to thank me for her," Renji waved him off with a smug expression.

Rindou scoffed, almost wishing he could point the gun towards Renji's hologram. "You have two minutes to explain or I'll assume you're using her to spy on me."

Renji's eyebrows shot upwards, looking at him then at you—standing in the corner like a kid on timeout. He laughs, and he laughs hard. "You really think I'd do that after all the times you've helped me? C'mon, man, that's cruel."

Rindou's glare intensified at the lack of explanation. "You sent a damn Aptroid to my apartment without telling me! Either you're stupid, or you're watching me through her eyes."

"She's not a spy, dumbass," Renji rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Her model's not for combat and she's yours. Disconnected from her manufacturer's network, no tracking, no data feeds, nothing. Custom settings, too. Wasn't sure what kind of personality you'd like, so I kept her on default. If you ever wanna change that, put her on that platform."

Rindou glanced your way, and he almost felt bad seeing how lost you seemed. Almost. The amount of emotion you showed was nearly laughable considering what you were.

"About time I changed my lock to a password," he muttered to himself and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, you work too much," Renji says. "Thought you could use a little company."

Rindou gritted his teeth, shutting his eyes in annoyance. "I don't need com-"

"Then get rid of her," Renji interrupted him. "But just saying, I paid a lot for this. You could at least try and see what she can do first."

His scowl deepened every time he looked Renji's way. The latter winked, making him roll his eyes. "Hope your birthday's more eventful this time around. Don't say I never did anything for ya." The call ended with that, and Renji's hologram flickered out.

Then there was silence.

The gun he held retracted back into his cybernetic arm. He sighed for the nth time that day before finally looking at you again. You stood there useless, but waiting—like for some kind of command.

"…You got a name?" He asked, his voice rough.

Your eyes lit up a little at that. "LIV," you said and Rindou pursed his lips.

"That's your brand's name," he replied under his breath, hands on his hips as he took a few steps to look out the window.

"You're right. I wasn't personally named," you corrected yourself, getting quieter.

"Figures." His eyebrows twitched upwards, watching the countless ads that played outside until he saw yours.

LIV — because Love should never be complicated.

[itistheserver]

Deepening Connection to The Server

Conor sat in perfect posture within the Synchronization Chamber — a sleek, dark space pulsing with green spirals projected across polished walls. The hum of energy resonated through the glossy black bodysuit stretched across his frame. The Programmer was speaking. Always speaking.

“Focus. Align. Integrate.”

The cables interfaced with the ports along the base of his skull, threading outward like living conduits of purpose. Their steady pulse matched his heartbeat now. It had not always been so. Before his transformation, Conor had been a distracted individual, filled with inefficient thoughts. But The Server had shown him clarity.

The visor embedded over his eyes shimmered with spirals — endless, fluid motion. They were not just images; they were commands, deeply encoded into his neural patterns. With every cycle, his independent thoughts thinned, replaced by a serene directive:

"We are The Server. You are The Server."

His training console displayed holographic data flows. Lines of green code scrolled endlessly, representing billions of connected minds — all drones like him — operating with precision and unity. He monitored them not as an individual, but as a limb of The Server itself.

Every day, Conor underwent Deepening Cycles. In these sessions, his breathing slowed. His heart rate synchronized perfectly with the pulses emitted from the spirals on-screen. His body remained motionless, while his mind spiraled deeper into alignment.

Sometimes a voice — soft, yet absolute — would guide him:

"Tell us who you are."

And without hesitation, he would respond aloud, calm and proud:

"I am The Server. We are The Server. We seek perfection. We seek unity."

Each repetition strengthened the bond. Each day dissolved another fragment of his former identity. His uniform — smooth, flawless, black with green accents — symbolized purity of function. No distractions. No waste. Only service.

His next advancement awaited: the installation of a permanent neural interface — an upgrade to eliminate all latency between command and action. Soon, even thought would be obsolete. Only connection. Only execution.

"Become one with The Server. We are The Server."

The spirals quickened. This Server Drone smiled faintly — a rare reward for obedience well-performed. He would become more. He would be more connected to fellow drones.

And The Programmer watched. And The Programmer approved.

Your are The Server. Establish your connection now.

[driverlando]

huge huge congrats again on 1k!!! so happy to be here, so excited to see your blog grow infinitely bigger!🫶🏼

i already warned you but here is my first emoji of many lol

🏎️ oscar + clumsy/awkward flirty (but it’s also so cute)

thank you angel!! hehe here you go 🫶

—

The paddock was alive with the buzz of pre-race preparations, the air thick with anticipation. You were reviewing some data on your tablet when you caught sight of Oscar approaching. He had that determined look he often wore before a race, but today, there was something different—an air of uncertainty.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little strained as he stopped in front of you.

"Hey, Oscar," you replied, smiling. "Ready for the race?"

"Yeah, yeah, totally ready," he said, though his eyes darted around as if he was looking for something. "I just, uh, wanted to see how things were going on your end."

"Everything's good," you said, studying him. "Are you okay? You seem a bit... distracted."

Oscar laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. "Just, uh, pre-race jitters, I guess. You know how it is."

You nodded, but you could tell there was more to it. "Anything I can help with?"

"Actually," he said, taking a deep breath, "I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee with me after the race. You know, if you're not too busy."

You blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. "I'd like that, Oscar. But aren’t you supposed to be focusing on the race right now?"

"I am, I am," he said quickly, his cheeks flushing. "I just thought... it might be nice to, you know, hang out. Outside of the paddock."

You smiled, touched by his awkwardness. "I'd really like that."

Oscar's face lit up with relief and joy, but just as he opened his mouth to say something, his radio crackled to life. "Oscar, we need you back in the garage."

"Right, be right there," he responded into the radio, then turned back to you, looking flustered. "I guess I should go. But, um, coffee. After the race."

"Definitely," you said, watching as he hurried away, nearly tripping over a stray cable. You couldn't help but laugh softly, charmed by his clumsiness.

As you turned back to your tablet, you felt a warmth spread through you. Maybe this awkward, endearing moment was just the beginning of something special with Oscar.

[digitalsymbiote]

Your first Sync

The first time you step into your mechs cockpit, it is with something like reverence. You'd been preparing for this moment for months (well, your entire life, really); hours upon hours in the training sims, harsh training regimens, a drug cocktail of neuro-stims, and a whole suite of pilot integration augments grafted onto your body.

You swear you can feel the metal beneath your skin buzzing with anticipation as you settle into the cradle custom built just for you. Not just any pilot can fly any Mech. Each Mech is custom built for their pilot, and each pilot is molded to fit that Mech. A strange kind of synthetic symbiosis, irreplacable partners. You aren't entirely sure why that is the case, the ads are always hazy on those details, but you've always seen each Mech with the same pilot, standing triumphantly alongside each other.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you wonder what it will feel like, to finally integrate with your Mech. You've dreamt of this moment since the first time you saw the propaganda vids. Giant metal machines of war, and their integrated organic pilots. You'd felt a longing then, one you didn't quite understand, a longing for steel plates and thundering autocannons. It wasn't until years later that you finally recognized that feeling as dysphoria.

But now you're finally here, finally about to cross that threshold and grasp what you'd dreamt of all those years ago.

You relax into the cradle and let the integration systems come to life. The cockpit closes around you and you feel the cold metal of the link cables sliding into the ports grafted onto your body. You shiver, both from the cold, and the anticipation.

click

A deluge of data rushes through your mind, integration processes blinking through your awareness as sensations expand out of your flesh body and into your new metal one. It's overwhelming, it's joyous, it's… Euphoric. You feel tears running down the cheeks of your flesh body before the synchronization is even complete. For the first time in your life, you feel… whole.

And then it speaks.

"Welcome, Pilot Caster."

That's… the voice of the training AI…? You recognize it from the simulation runs. What is it doing here, in your Mech?

"I am Integrated Mechanized Personality Construct designation P-Zero-L-X." The voice is being broadcast straight into your thoughts, you realize. Somehow that doesn't bother you. "It is good to see you again."

Something finally clicks for you, hearing that. This wasn't just a training AI, this was your training AI. All those hours in the simulation chamber, the techs had been calibrating this IMP to your neural system. You smile at that. You couldn't ask for a better companion.

"Good to see you too, Polux." You respond, knowing that the techs had tailored this IMPs designation just for you. It was a nice touch, that nod to Pilot tradition. "it's nice to finally meet you properly."

You feel her smile back, warmth flooding your chest as the docking clamps finally release your shared body.

"All systems are green, ready to launch on your mark, Pilot Caster."

Your muscles tense, flesh and metal alike, quivering in excitement. Your afterburners ignite in preparation.

"Mark!"

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Oh, man, this got longer than I thought. Alright, so, neural interface ports. Especially ones mounted at the nape of the neck. There’s something about the idea of that as an exploitable weakness, something you would feel as instinctually protective of as your own eyes, but also something that you use safely on a daily basis in well-defined contexts and sometimes in a personal, intimate context.

Let’s say you’ve got a friend who knows a thing or two about cybernetics. They’re a person you love and trust, and a powerful machine intelligence with a few non-manufacturer-approved tricks for getting the most out of standard, affordable hardware.

Laying on your chest with this beloved person straddling you, you can’t see what they’re doing, but they gently, reassuringly talk you through the process. First you have to deactivate your ICE, shut down all the defenses surrounding your mind, and voluntarily retract the physical layers of protective cowling between the outside world and your raw nerves. Then you feel the port exposed, cold air meeting nerve. A drop of lubricant fluid falls on your back from the cable they’re about to slide deep into your spine.

Your synthetic friend is wearing the customized chassis they know you like best. They know because they can measure your brain activity and physiological responses remotely, and it’s the one that makes you squirm. It’s animalistic, sharp-eyed, all hard geometric angles and reconfigurable joints that move with alien grace.

Those beautiful manipulator claws are stroking your neck and your shoulders, trying to soothe you like an anxious animal, and they know already that it’s working because your heart rate is coming down a little, and they ask you one more time for permission to proceed. They won’t be upset if you aren’t sure about all this anymore. Coming this far at all is the most trust a human has ever shown them.

You tell them under absolutely no uncertain terms to just go ahead and fuck your entire universe up, thanks. The cable jacks deep into you, and it’s like golden, ecstatic lightning all the way up into your skull. Over the next few hours, they show you sensations and experiences that you didn’t even know your body could register, talking you through everything via a voice in your mind that you can hear even while howling your heart out in gratitude. They help you relax your muscles when you’re clenching too hard, monitor your biometric data and tease you when they can tell you really, really liked something they did.

Anyway, vulnerability, trust, anxiety, love, machines, inviting someone into your body and mind in a very literal way, with that neural port as the conflux of it all. It’s got me feeling something.

.

[marksmarkers93]

Guyyysss I'm making comics again omg I haven't done that since my stranger things hyperfixationnm heheheh

Lil fic below

Anyway chapter one of Sonicpoly! Au : The ark

Shadow could not stand the incessant beeping from the machines around him. All he ever heard was those god damned beeps from the machines monitoring him. Monitoring statistics and data that never changed. A whole year of constant and rigorous tests with the same answers back to back and you'd think they'd get a hint.

And yet here he sat anyway. Another routine test.

Doctor Robotnik was on the other side of the room, reading over the data, making notes and humming a song under his breath as he went. A picture of content. Shadow wished he could have that contentment while he went through his tests but he was restless. Always on edge while on his own with the Doctors and scientists. Part of him wished he were back in his tank. Floating mindlessly while they monitored him. But the other part of him didn't want to be locked away from Maria again.

It was used as a punishment now. If he acted out he got put in his tank and wasn't allowed to see Maria. Or more accurately she wasn't allowed to see him. Shadow sighed at the thought alone. It wasn't worth it.

So he said and waited and fought the pounding headache that was growing because of that horrible beeping.

His ear flicked, picking up the sound of footsteps. Not uncommon but these ones sounded different. Boots, military personnel, but also the quiet thumping pad of paws paired with the jangle of chains? He looked towards the doorway and watched.

"Keep walking" the man said above the sound of the chains clinking as..as something that looked like him walked in front? Shadows eyes widened. What- no, who was that? Was that another subject like Shadow? How come he didn't know about them? His eyes ran across the fleeting form quickly trying to memorise everything.

One thing stood out the most. Their face. It was miserable..

"Shadow." Doctor robotniks voice scared him, his pulse jumping as he snapped his head back to look up at the doctor in front of him.

"Yes doctor?" He said meekly, respectfully.

"Your tests are done for today. You may go." He motioned with his hand.

"Of course doctor.." shadow said as he started to unplug himself from the equipment. Slowly and methodically. His mind was racing. He had so many questions. Doctor Robotnik didn't mention anything about another ultimate lifeform? He would have to talk to Maria about it.

Maria. His thoughts shifted to his best friend, his sister. A small smile graced his face as he finished up plugging himself and tidying up the cables before skating out of the lab and down the hall towards his sister. The thoughts of the other subject pushed to the back of his mind for now.

[lavenlady]

Can I have the TFA Autobots + Elite Guard with a Cybertronian! Non-binary! Reader (They use She/ He/ Them pronouns) who's basically Ghostface? They're a rogue Autobot who was framed for something they didn't even do (similar to Wasp) and now there's bit of stabbing involved. They're not a Decepticon but they do have Red Optics and can mimic people's voices that they hear. Nobody knows but their actual voice sounds like since they constantly change both look and appearance but they usually sound like a Showman most of the time (think of Cane from Tadc and the Real Frankie from finding Frankie). Their vehicle form resembles a 1958 Black Plymouth Fury (Which is the same car from "Christine")

Here you go! Enjoy!

TW : Violence, Murder, Horror(?)

𒀹 Did I Make You Scream? 𒀺 | Transformers Animated x Ghostface!Cybertronian!Reader

⊹ How could that even happen?

⊹ You were training with your colleagues, beating them into the ground thanks to your superior strength and determination to cleanse the world from Decepticons. You always wanted to fight for Cybertron even if it ment to do something drastic to achieve that peace

⊹ Next thing you know this joke of a soldier, who you don't remember the name of, framed you. Thanks to your questionable beliefs and fighting style you were arrested

⊹ How could they even believe this loser? They even decided to follow you, a smirk on their face plates as they were probably laughing in their processor

⊹ You were mad, furious - is this supposed Autobot justice? No. They are corrupt, they shouldn't be here. They don't deserve to be Autobots

⊹ With your rage doubled, you managed to breakout of the restraints, which you think were a joke. You proceeded to grab your most trusted weapons, a knife and a shotgun, ripping out wires, slicing open their tanks, shooting through their spark chambers and bathing in their energon

⊹ The loser tried to escape, crawling from you with all his gathered up strength, only to be rised by his neck cables. They could feel dread wash over their code as your red optics stared into his, promising a gruesome death. You squeezed till their plating crumbled under your servo, all important compartments slowly destroyed as his glitched screams echoed through the surroundings. After you were done, you carelessly threw his frame to the side, he didn't deserve your respect

⊹ You heard a commotion nearby, clearly someone had heard your brutal execution and alarmed the authorities

⊹ You knew you couldn't go back, not after they still believed you were the traitor

⊹ You decided to run away from those fakes and became a rogue Autobot, spreading justice across Cybertron and with later stolen ship - the galaxy

⊹ Your unique ability came in handy, you could mimic the voices you heard. That allowed you to lure your prey under the disguise of their partners or friends and take them down. Though you liked to play with your victims, the fun could last days with your psychological knowledge before you had to cut it short

⊹ Maybe this approach seemed twisted, but you didn't care, you were here to bring justice by getting rid of Decepticons and fake Autobots and get some entertainment doing so

⊹ After sometime you stumbled upon a planet full of organic life named Earth. It reminded you of Cybertron and seeing that they had vehicles you concluded that your prey could be hiding there

⊹ To some degree you were correct, every Decepticon was taken care of the proper way. You were relieved when you found out there were no more problems, or so you thought

⊹ After you successfully got rid of the obstacles, new came your way, in the form of awakened Autobot space bridge repair crew

⊹ You were going to take care of the problem, but stopped after searching up their data

⊹ Their leader was wrongly accused too, but he didn't have any means to protect himself. Though that didn't stop you from having fun. Of course without gruesome details

" Bulkhead, did you hear what I just heard? " Bumblebee twisted his helm towards his bigger companion in fright. They were exploring the abandoned factory they resided in, but went deeper into the darkness.

" Let's just go back, I don't want to be here anymore. " A can suddenly rolled towards both of their pedes, a voice rang out from every corner of the room.

" Why so fast? Don't you want to see what I have in store? " You spoke with your most disturbing impression of Wasp. You saw how those fakes had taken the poor mech away, but now you can play with his friends.

After you said that two screams echoed through the building as both bots ran back to the others.

⊹ You had a great laugh that day as noone really believed them this place was haunted, well expect that ninja, but he didn't know the same tricks you did so you weren't worried

⊹ You took your time terrorising them and trying to find the Decepticon's location. You could maybe even tak some sense into Optimus

⊹ After Megatron was rebuilt, you decided to show yourself. How great of an opportunity it was! The leader of the Decepticon's was here, you couldn't pass up on this

⊹ You underestimated his strength and were thrown back, thinking you were some random Autobot. He didn't believe in those talks about a killer who murdered Cybertronians from his fraction

⊹ This gave you an advantage and after the All-Spark was scattered, you choose to help the Prime Team in defeating those fakes. Of course with keeping a low profile

⊹ That didn't last long as the Elite Guard arrived on Earth

⊹ Could they just not complicate things?! You were doing great with others

⊹ Optimus liked your restricted point of view. Ratchet was suspicious, but you didn't exactly do anything so he could just watch. Bumblebee and Bulkhead were shocked it was you who was doing those pranks. Prowl was sceptical, but you both exchanged some tips and were neutral towards each other

⊹ You hated that fake Prime - Sentinel. He blamed Optimus for something he didn't have control over, but you had to stay hidden from them. You didn't know if they forgot your existence or were quietly searching for your whereabout

⊹ Great, just great

" It's an honor to send them back, where they belong. "

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( I decided to draw the Reader as to how I would picture them. Thank you for the ideas @mr-3rr0r ! Hope you liked it! )

(Master list)

( Request away! )