#current monitor relay on ship | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unholyplumpprincess · 4 years

Text

Courtship Rules

For the lovley @beansapalooza for some alien fucking! For Science!

Summary: You are a scientist on a team of four sent to live on a planet where xenomorphs inhabit. You are all to have your studies on them, everyone has their own thing. You? Well. You study their breeding habits. Perhaps getting a little TOO close to that knowledge. But, what better way to study than hands on? Or. In which a xenomorph recognizes you from its past and believes you to be its mate. Who are you to refuse getting stuffed full of eggs? All in the name of science, of course.

Reblogs > Likes. Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, have your age in your bio to interact!

Fandom: Aliens - Aliens VS Predators

Relationship: Xenomorph/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Reader is gn and has a vulva + is chubby, oviposition/ovipositors, knotting, brief brief mentions of mild gore that’s canon typical, breeding, you get stuffed with alien eggs!

Words: 8.7k

_________

The mission relayed to you had been one of great importance. But it came with great dangers, dangers that you were all aware of.

There were four of you total, almost all scientists in your own regard. A handful of teams had come into contact with the creatures you were now studying. And all those teams had wound up dead.

One of those teams, years ago who had first come into contact with them, didn’t know what they were up against or what they were bringing back. Another team had been sent to wipe them out, claiming them to be parasites, with only one survivor to return to tell the tale. Another team had been sent out as a means to take one or two back to study in cages on their ships, once again did not go well. Another team sent to explore their home planet, weapons in hand because exterminating the species had been the only thing on their mind. Then another team, and another, and another...

Other teams were documented, more and more who wanted to quietly try and study or eliminate them. All failed. All dead.

~Rest under the cut~

All marked in the files and reports you had read with big red stamps over pictures of people just like you reading ‘deceased’. Graphic images of rib cages and stomachs burst open and people hanging in this thick, black goop. Holes stabbed straight through the hearts or the forehead. These aliens, classified under the term Xenomorph, were quick killing predators who were used to getting what they needed to survive.

They were bred that way, for fighting and survival.

Your team was to study them. All of you had different projects given to you. Your team consisted of: Lillian, a tall woman with wild curls of deep red down her back and warm brown skin with a smile that could break hearts. She studied how they lived through the hive, their ranking, and what was the importance of all of their systems. This also included breaking down their anatomy and worked hand in hand with you.

Frankie, a short haired nonbinary person with a deep olive skin tone and a soft, shy personality that could become booming once excited. They were in charge of monitoring and studying the physical data that came in through either physical samples of the hive or sediment from the planet to see if there was a connection. Different points of study depending on the surrounding climates.

And Mavrick, who was on the way taller side of all of you and needed to duck to get around your ship. A man with sharp teeth and charmingly an asshole, with wild hair and quite the affinity for Frankie. Who was, as far as you knew, married to them. He wasn’t a researcher, but an engineer who kept your ship intact and in one piece, in charge of sending messages out when supplies were needed.

And you? Well. You studied their breeding habits. There had been question that if a Queen was not involved, how did they breed? However, this hive didn’t have a queen. Two years ago, when your team was sent here, they did. But she passed away and became one with the hive walls. It had brought a concern to all of you thinking that there was no survival to continue so therefor no mission, and yet, it seemed in record time, they evolved in peculiar ways.

The xenomorphs before both exhibited both internal and external genitalia, but they didn’t seem to actually use said genitalia until recently when the Queen had died. Xenomorphs lived in freezing cold environments, their bodies just as cold blooded despite their blood being so high in acidity that it could melt a floor. Yet, even with these factors, they adapted to fit the environments they were in. Whether warm or cold.

Through varied, new studies on these peculiar evolutions, xenomorphs with internal genitalia could hold the eggs given to them by their external genitalia counterparts. But, the problem is the eggs don’t tend to survive unless the xenomorph stays warm enough for them to incubate. And refusing to leave their freezing cold hive meant there was no chance they could keep their bodies warm.

Curiosity and in the name of science had led your team to carefully place blankets near their hive. And with cameras you had been able to see how they built nests with these. The xenomorphs carrying the eggs staying warmed and inside of them in order to incubate these eggs until they could lay them. With trial and error, the xenomorphs learned that their bodies had to stay warm in order to hatch the eggs they now carried.

However, that could be too big a trial for a xenomorph always on the go and within the hive. They needed something more permanent that wasn’t hindering for them.

The older, bigger eggs from the Queen used to hatch with what was called ‘Face huggers’ due to their spider leg appearance and long tails. Other creatures on the planet were captured in their hive and used as hosts for these beings to lay their eggs and then curl up and die. It took either days or weeks depending on the size- or rank- of the xenomorph before the ‘chest burster’ would emerge and crack through the rib cage or abdomen of its host. Which left the xenomorphs to do very little than simply capture live prey and let the face huggers do the rest.

This new evolution for their spawn to continue required more work. And yet, the eggs that hatched from these evolved ones were what used to be deemed as ‘chest bursters’. Which took out the need for face huggers, so eliminating a step. Curiously, these young xenomorphs were hatched warm blooded and then developed to be cold blooded as they grew and adapted to their environment. Another proof of their steps in adaptability to fit the climates that surrounded them.

That’s what you and Lillian had been studying together, the new evolution of xenomorphs and how their bodies had adjusted as well as breeding patterns. It also seemed that the xenomorphs were now trying to branch out into warmer areas of the planet where beasts were, another study that Frankie was making note of. It made sense that the warm-blooded beings would be warm and could keep their eggs alive without needing to do all that work of blankets and trying to keep their own bodies warm. It saved a step.

However, the current study conducted by your team was monitoring how these creatures were going to use these beasts to their advantage.

There were cameras in the dark hive that let you guys see what was happening. But all of you had also figured out that a year in that you could suit up entirely head to toe and use the collected pheromones from the xenomorphs to mask that you were in the hive. It made physical data collection a lot easier, and less suspicious than sending in a humming drone to collect the data in a little basket.

Those got destroyed quite frequently by a well-aimed, sharp tail.

Though, it was still an unnerving task having to go into the hive. Going in the dark with only the screen on your goggles to see through the dark of the rooms or the small beams of light coming in from the ceiling. Hearing the taps of claws passing by as they worked through the hive. Sometimes there would be a hiss and you had to ensure you didn’t stiffen up or jump to draw attention to yourselves. Any sort of abnormality in behavior could be seen as an infiltrator.

The first time your team had done this, you went in a full group of four. It had been a scary time as you carefully moved in a group. But for the most part the xenomorphs thought you must have been a bigger drone worker, because they’d pass you guys by without so much as a glance or hesitation.

The jig had almost been up when you all had made it to the egg room, one of the warm-blooded creatures stuck on the wall suddenly howling out and a chest burster breaking from it.

Mavrick had drawn his gun first out of reflex, no sound from any of you as to not alert the hive. You understood as the reaction was only natural because you guys knew how dangerous they could all be. Yet, for some reason you had quickly scooped up the chest burster and held it to your chest. Vigorously shaking your head for reasons other than the fact it would have alerted the others to investigate and perhaps slaughter your team. Reason that, to this day, you couldn’t quite pinpoint why you did it.

The chest burster looked...different than the others. Its crown wasn’t smooth, but tall and pointed- very much like, well, a crown. It looked similar to a Queen xenomorph child, but there would be no need for a queen, and this one wasn’t quite big enough to classify as even that. Perhaps some new evolved version of a higher rank?

Regardless of these questions, you quickly had run to one of the small holes that led to another room. Gently, you’d set the shockingly quiet and non-squirming chest burster down, quickly shooing it off.

You can’t help but feel like it lingered to look at you- but you knew these creatures were very well almost near blind, fairly near sighted. Everything seen in a blurry black and white for them. There was no way it could have seen you in that grand of detail- and your team wasn’t sure about how well their memories held at that time. So, there was no guarantee it was trying to actually see or remember you in some way.

It had been a scary moment for all of you. Your human instincts all told you to run or to kill it, and yet you felt this pull to keep it alive. Perhaps it was just because you had been studying them for so long that you were attached to this hive. That would make sense, even if you knew that at a moment’s notice the xenomorphs would take you out for infiltrating. A clean, swift death from either a tail or their strange miniature mouths.

Sort of how people back on Earth would care for a lion pride, knowing full well they could be killed if they so much as stopped feeding them.

Today, a year later, you have to go into the hive. You do this as often as you could, nearly once a week in order to collect physical data. Since you’re the only one who feels particularly brave enough to do it so often, you don’t mind the everyday suit up in order to get better data on all of your studies.

However, the reason today was due to one of the cameras having fallen off the wall of the hive looking into the nesting room. It was crucial to have it up, especially since you were focusing on studying their new mating and breeding habits. One of which being how they were trying to figure out how to use beasts like they had in the past to hold their eggs. But, the old-fashioned way of a face hugger implanting it in their chest clearly wasn’t going to happen.

Pheromones are sprayed across your pitch-black suit and helmet to ensure you blended in with the hive. The helmet was unnecessary for planet survival, but necessary in case of an accident; Oxygen was clean and the air was as cold as a fresh winter day, but it allowed you to see in the dim space of their hive, as well as protected your head if you got knocked over.

And if you did get knocked over, you’d rather that the hive members would have to try to work for their kill at least.

You keep your cool as you head out of the ship, a camera installed in the front of your suit ensuring that your team could monitor if something went wrong. You keep quiet as you navigate the halls as easily as you would your ship once inside the hive, making sure to keep moving when you hear the taps of claws. If you startled or held still, they would know something was up, so you keep as if you are one of them. As you always did.

The nesting room is a larger room in the center of the hive, the ceiling open to allow light to be mainly focused here with only spider webs of black goop keeping the hive connected above. Five nesting areas of craters are scattered about with furs from beasts stacked in some or blankets your team had left out. But what’s the most interesting is on the wall is a large beast, looking akin to a saber tooth tiger with far too many eyes and too many tails to be one.

It was alive. Breathing. Encased in the black goop with four dark gray eggs almost swaddled against its abdomen with more of the hard-black material they used to build their hive. Like a makeshift incubator without killing the beast. That was...interesting. They had tried killing these beasts before, tearing open their abdomens or chests to put their eggs, but they must have learned that the bodies became too cold after a few hours.

Your eyes light up when you realize they’re going against their very nature to maul upon sight- learning to adapt to keep their species going. Even if it means going against what they were bred to do.

You spy the camera on the ground near the snoozing beast and carefully creep up. You move it around in your grasp to check for damages, only spotting a slight scratch on the outer edge of it, but thankfully not the lens. That was good, it meant replacement wasn’t necessary and you could just get it back up without needing to go back to your ship for repairs.

But your train of thought is paused when you hear the beast let out a low, slow growl.

Your heart pounds, eyes moving up slowly and carefully whilst keeping your body still to not alert it. You soon see its eyes are still closed.

It was a snore.

Okay, okay that was fine! Cool, don’t make that sound again, thanks!

You let out a breath you’d been holding, practically feeling your team do the same when you give a thumbs up to the camera in your grasp after you turn it on. You move towards the back of the room near the nests to mount it on the wall with a sticky adhesive, positioning it to be just right.

That’s when you hear a different noise right behind you when you take one step back to admire your handiwork. You freeze when you hear the quiet, near nonexistent tapping of claws behind you. Normally when the xenomorphs were walking, you could hear them. This was a deliberate drag of a tail, near silence. The only time they would be quiet is if...

Is if they were hunting.

Your heart is pounding heavily in your ears, your hands shaking by your sides and your breath quickening. You swallow heavily, remembering their body language and how they responded to quick movement. You don’t move a muscle, hearing the low hiss of warning behind you and the drag of its tail sound lighter as it’s lifted.

You tuck and roll to the right just as quick as the tail stabs just where you were standing, narrowly missing the camera on the wall. You yelp when you land yourself in one of the craters of their nests, scrambling back on your elbows and watching the xenomorph crawl after you with that same high hiss of warning.

You were an intruder in their nesting ground. That was the biggest offense.

Your lips quiver, vision blurring with fat tears when it crawls overtop you. Its large body frames your own with its long head lowering down towards your helmet. Its mouth of razor-sharp teeth opening and its miniature mouth poised to strike your helmet to attempt to get through the thick glass.

You knew coming into this that this was dangerous. All of this was dangerous. You can’t even blame the xenomorph. As far as it knew, you were an intruder who just planted something inside of its home. You don’t fear this death, but your heart still races and tears still slide down your cheeks with your instincts to move, to run, to flee.

And then suddenly. There’s a blur of black as it gets knocked to the side by a much bigger xenomorph.

It stands a good foot taller than the average six foot they normally are. Its body wider and girthier, circling its hive member with a louder and deeper sounding hiss that reverberates in the room. The smaller one hisses back in a weaker tone, looking over towards your direction and then whipping its head back at the larger xenomorph. Their body language is loud and obvious, an argument of if you were an intruder or not.

The larger one acts as if this was an argument between hive members and breaking it up.

The smaller one still bristled and looking at you like trying to prove you didn’t belong there.

It’s with a slam of the larger one’s thicker tail does the smaller finally scuttle off back down a hallway. You weren’t a threat, you weren’t a danger enough to keep arguing over.

Your heart is racing as you consider what the fuck just happened. Maybe this larger one wanted to end you instead? Maybe that was its job? Its job was protector, you knew that much from its size. You can’t even think clearly, watching as its head now turns towards you without a single snarl on its face. Except- curious. You...you know this one. With its tall crown flaring out much to look like a crown, like a miniature Queen.

The chest burster you had practically rescued; You’d only caught glimpses of it as an adult on the cameras. Lillian knew more about it than you, she nicknamed it The Knight.

No way it could remember you, right? Xenomorphs were based mostly on scent, this was true, but you’d used pheromones then and you definitely used them now. They didn’t pack bond like humans...did they? And even if they did, would it recognize you by your suit alone?

That would definitely be a new evolutionary trait- but then again, the beast on the wall wasn’t killed either but being used for its heat and kept alive.

Regardless, the xenomorph is stalking closer, but slower. Not prowling as if making sure to make noise as if it wanted to be sure you saw it. You swallow thickly, flinching when its long fingers outstretch towards your helmet. Its long, wide crowned head cocks. A small, almost trilling noise from its throat as it slowly moves itself into the nest you were currently still lying in. It doesn’t move to be on top of you, instead moving towards your side, gently nudging your side as if to urge you to get out.

O-oh?

You move as guided, helped out of the little crater with it again making that same sound as if it was pleased you did what it wanted. You’re still high off your fear, not quite thinking of anything else besides your shaky legs as you climb out. The alien behind you nudges your back with its head, a fond gesture you don’t even think about at first until it’s scooping you up. You don’t make a sound, fearing that yelping would anger it in some way but. But there was something about this...

You realize how it’s holding you. Cradled to its chest just like you had that little chest burster. It marches purposefully through the hive, back the way you came and keeping you tucked close with a firm grasp. Just like you had done to it to protect it from your team. It was protecting you from the hive just in case the drone had summoned others. Its body language purposeful.

As it walks, you contemplate what just happened. A drone got angry, went to attack you, and the Knight defended you. Okay, so it must have remembered you, but that trill.

Why did you know that sound? They only made that sound if--

Mate.

It thinks you’re its mate.

Or rather, trying to court you into being its mate.

You note it turns a new way down the hive structure. Not towards the exit, but instead to its own area. It has a similar crater in the ground with furs lovingly skinned off beasts piled in said nest. The room is wide, dome shaped almost with a beam of light streaming from up above and into the center of the nest.

Only higher ranked xenomorphs had their own spaces, especially to breed and nest, whilst the drones used the center room.

You’re set down oh so carefully into the wide nest that was built bigger than the others for reasons you can only assume is because how big this xenomorph was. It trills once again, but doesn’t follow you into the nest. Moving to lie curled around the edge of it with its head turned towards you and lying on its side to expose its belly and keep its tail far from you. The body language was familiar to you with courtships. ‘I am not a threat’ it’s practically yelling. You almost laugh at how silly this display seems to you as a human, but can’t help the nervousness in your throat.

“H-hi-” You manage to croak out finally, feeling silly for even deciding to speak. But, it merely lifts its head slightly, as if to show you it’s listening. It lets out a low noise in its throat, a sort of snort as if trying to mimic the thickness of your voice. Another sign it was trying to court you with mimicry, despite not having the right vocal cords to sound how you sounded.

It had to know you were another species, right? The pheromones on your suits would mimic a xenomorph, sure, but it carried you in a way that said it knew you were softer in flesh. It would feel that when touching you. It would feel you were much warmer- and maybe that was the key, you realize, it knew you were warmer and could hold its...its eggs without any trouble.

You cannot place why that does not turn you off or make you frightened in the slightest.

You can only imagine your team screaming back on the ship with the camera feed in your suit right now. You imagine Lillian is trying to jot down this data as quick as she can in her many, many journals.

You swallow thickly, remembering all the different noises to indicate certain things. You release a low hiss yourself, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth and letting air escape through a small part of your teeth to sound subtle, quiet. ‘Scared’ yours says ‘Not ready’.

Immediately, the xenomorph perks its head up, slowly rolling back onto its abdomen and hissing the same sound back with a cock of its head. Xenomorphs didn’t take each other without consent, they courted each other much like humans would. And it takes your consent with a question, as if asking if you are sure, and once you repeat the sound followed by a whimper, it sits right up.

There’s no anger in its movements as it comes closer to your helmet, gently tapping the roundness of its head against your helmet. ‘I will wait’ it says without saying a word. And once more you are offered to come out of the nest, gathered into its arms, set foot through the hive and set just at the mouth of the hive where you had come in.

It knew you weren’t of its kind. Or else it would have led you right back into the hive. It knew you didn’t belong there. How curious—how smart this creature was.

You can’t help but look back at it as it waits by the door, seeming to watch you leave until you leave its near sighted vision. It crawls back into the hive as you race back to your ship with a pounding heart and a sense of longing lingering over your body.

When you come inside, decontamination processes occur before you can put your suit away and enter the ship safely. Lillian is jumping on you first, to no surprise. You’re dizzy with her hands fretting over you, question after question until she cups your face and wipes away your dried tears. “Are you alright, my dear? I can’t imagine how frightening that was- but oh, how interesting! That is the same creature you had saved, correct?”

You kind of vaguely nod to her questions, letting her guide you into your quarters instead. She leaves you to rest when you clearly need your space to think, stroking your cheek fondly and telling you if you need anything, you know you can yell for any of them. But, by the end of the night when dinner is shared between all of you, Mavrick really outdoing himself in the kitchen as always, you manage to share the details.

From all of your combined studies, you all agree that this was courtship. There was no fear in denying a xenomorph, they all accepted rejections just like a human might without any bloodshed. But, Frankie does point something out that’s interesting. “If the xenomorph does lay its eggs in you, wouldn’t that make studying them easier? I mean, if we bring the eggs on board and they hatch, what if they pack bond due to their evolutionary traits?”

That makes everyone at the table pause to look at them. Watching as they pop a mouthful of chili in their mouth only to notice everyone’s looking at them. They fluster, cheeks warming and covering their mouth with the back of their hand when they speak, their southern accent thicker now. “W-what? I’m just sayin ’ it’d be easier than trynna collect a sample from an angry alien in the hive!”

“Frankie. I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all year.” You tease lightly, soft laughter from your chest when they shoot you daggers.

“Why, thank you. I’m glad that saying ‘go get railed by an alien’ is considered a smart option to you.” They huff, earning them a kiss atop their head from Mavrick to soothe their feigned upset attitude.

After dinner, you help clean up, settling at the table with everyone as you all game plan.

You weren’t against being mated to a xenomorph, they were your life already, and maybe having one bonded to you would help a lot in your gathered research. Not to mention, sexual repression was high in the ship- unless you were Frankie and Mavrick who most definitely went at it like rabbits when no one was looking. You? Lillian? Nada. Zip. Maybe some alien dick wasn’t so bad for you, although the idea of eggs being inside you should have been terrifying, you can’t help but feel...excited.

Wow. You really were sexually frustrated, huh?

Allow the Knight to court you. You could test your limitations within the hive due to it being higher ranking, it would argue against others attacking you. Allow the Knight to, well, mate with you and pray it lets you go back to your ship instead of insisting you stay in the hive. And double pray that the eggs come out and you don’t risk a chest burster becoming a Womb burster.

What a terrifying thought.

“Well. Ladies, gentlemen, Frankie. Let’s go make some alien babies, huh?” You announce at the end of it all, earning laughter all around and new excitement buzzing in the air of a new project.

Operation: “Romance an alien” was a go.

You don’t have to look very far. When you wake and suit up, you don’t use the pheromones this time. You hear that same deep trill right outside the ship door and the same loud drag of its tail to alert you to its location. You don’t jump back in fear this time or flinch when it gently bumps its head to your helmet, seeming satisfied of your safety. But you do note how it seems to inhale your scent, lowering its head down to the chest of your suit where you must radiate the most heat. Lowering towards your stomach before it moves back to its original position.

Memorizing you or scenting you, you couldn’t tell.

You follow it into the hive the distance away, occasionally seeing it stop to wait for you. Its head lightly tilted to seemingly hear for your footsteps before proceeding. Once you get to the mouth, it hisses high enough and long through the hallways and you hear the piercing noises come right back, a noise you would hear more often coming in.

‘Do not harm what I have brought back’. Says the Knight’s hiss.

‘We shall not harm nor alert.’ Says the reply back from the hive.

Normally reserved for the beasts they brought back from around the planet to indicate this creature was to stay alive. You wonder if there was other intelligent life on the planet that they were also trying to court. The planet was huge and vast, and your team’s main focus had been on the xenomorphs rather than branching out too far unless necessary. It could be possible there was other intelligent life that was hiding around and being attempted to be used as a breeder or mate.

Once more you are taken to the room where it resided. It doesn’t move you this time, but it does lie on the mouth of the nest once more. Lying on its side, tail moved far behind it, resting its head on one of its skeletal arms. One of its legs rests behind the other, exposing the hardly noticeable slit between its legs.

There were no outward appearance indicators of what genitalia a xenomorph had, only certain body language when courting. It wasn’t going into the nest or resting on all fours, this behavior it was currently exhibiting indicated external genitalia. Which meant your hunch was right about it wanting to lay its eggs in you.

You show your interest by moving into the nest and the xenomorph reacts with an almost purring growl in its throat of approval. It doesn’t move at all, waiting for you to make your courting gesture.

If you were a xenomorph, you’d show your interest by exposing yourself however you could. But you instead hiss again. ‘Want to, unsure still’ to allow it to realize you were interested but weren’t satisfied with the length of courting. Once more it trills, rolling onto its abdomen to no longer expose itself and offering its head lowered to you to instead bump your helmet affectionately again. Indicating its patience but determination.

This is the game you play for an entire month of letting the hive become so used to your presence that pheromones were no longer needed on your suit. This xenomorph waits for you outside your ship every day, waiting to court you in traditional fashions. Furs from skinned beasts are left outside your ship in a pile, different meats placed carefully and frozen nearby, all organs carefully chosen.

Yet, interesting new additions to the courtship occur. Foliage. Of flowers that you had in your own room. It must have found the same flowers you had, knowing that these clung to your scent so you must have liked them, and left them lovingly atop a pile of furs.

Xenomorphs were one of the most intelligent life forms out there, and how they learned to adapt to overcome certain obstacles- such as courting a different species- was always so shocking to your team.

It also started to understand what you were saying, it felt like. Or perhaps it was only understanding the tone at which you said things, you were unsure still. Lillian was trying to decipher that over the details she could see from the camera in your suit.

Mavrick had cracked a joke that if it was horny enough, maybe it was just desperate to find out if you were saying ‘yes’ yet. To which Frankie had given him a look that resulted in him pouting. For reasons you can only assume meant that they were telling him ‘no head later’.

The gifts you received over the course of its courtship were: Varied and healthy organs from beasts, flowers- which you had experimented with and got new flowers for your room and it brought you the same flowers you had each time, furs that were carefully skinned and cleaned, and curiously shiny objects. This could be from rocks to gems to things that looked like amber. It was a fascinating development, and well, you were rather smitten with the Knight yourself.

You’d gotten closer to the point not only could you enter the hive without pheromones, you could also take off your helmet once in its nest. The first time you had done it your heart had been racing out of your chest when it had gently trilled at you. It had rested your foreheads together, obviously taking note that you were warm and no longer encased in a bubble. Its long fingers had gently caressed your face, seeming to outline you as best as it could. It didn’t seem upset by what it found either.

Now, you’ve exited the ship. Fully suited up and already seeing the Knight waiting for you patiently. It makes that same trill it always does, crawling on all fours towards you before standing to its impressive height. It hunches over more towards your much smaller height, cocking its head when it gently presses its head to yours. You laugh softly when it snorts against your helmet, clearly frustrated you have it on.

“C’mon, big guy, it’s too cold!” You try to explain. It pauses to take in your voice, mimicking the same tone you say ‘cold’ in with a low grunt. You roll your eyes, hooking your fingers under your helmet as it makes a low hiss with the movement. The xenomorph trills, already ducking its head to help nudge it back and waiting impatiently. You can’t help but smile as its head tilts until you press your warm lips to the smooth front of its head. Immediately it trills, satisfied with getting what it wanted and turning back towards its hive to begin guiding you in.

You have a bag with you today full of little things like lubricant and a few toys. Foreplay wasn’t really in the books for xenomorphs and you’d spent the better part of this morning preparing for this already.

You’d been filled with anticipation all week for this, showing your interest throughout the week to the Knight who had clearly been eager at you wanting to move forward. You spent this morning edging yourself, fitting larger and larger toys in you with trembles of your thighs and frustration when you never let yourself cum. Xenomorphs were very kind about making sure each got their own. It was being shown in recent of your studies that a lot of them had sex just for the pleasure of it, too.

You can only hope the same hospitality is spared to you.

You know that it can smell your arousal. They had great senses of smell, and the one who saw you as a mate should have known your scent inside and out by now. You’d think xenomorphs weren’t the cuddling or kissing type, but turns out at least this one appreciated them. You think you’d never seen an alien more at ease than when you were showing it how to hold you, hitching your own leg over its waist and hearing it make such happy sounds in its throat.

Spooning an alien. Who’d have thought?

Now, as you’re escorted into the hive and into its nest, the courtship begins properly. Once again it lies on the edge of the crater of its nest, one leg behind the other, head resting on its arm and exposing its slit that you can already see leaking this translucent black fluid. Oh, it definitely smelled you. That only makes a shudder wrack through you at the very thought of its patience and desperation.

You very slowly remove your helmet and set it to the side, stepping into the nest as your fingers find the zipper of your suit. You quietly apologize to Lillian in your head when you shut off the camera along the way, no way did you want them to see this. You’d try and write a detailed report just for her once you got past the embarrassment.

The suit slides off your shoulders and you set it with your helmet. Patient as ever, the Knight only trills at you as it always does, but you notice its head lift ever so slightly to scent the air. You even get the pleasure of watching the head of its ovipositor slip out of its slit, seeing how it was already drooling with lubrication and desire. Your mouth waters, tempted to show it that there was more warmth to you than just your cunt, but you decide that was for another time.

Preferably when it had no eggs that could potentially be slid down your throat.

Under your suit you wore a tight black tanktop and gray sweatpants, super simple and warm. Your scent must be louder when you remove your suit in full because the sound that the Knight makes sounds like a growl. You gently press your warm hand to the smoothness of its head, soothing it softly. “Shhh. Wait, be patient.” Murmured from your lips, and once more you’re not sure if it understands or just responds to your tone, but it huffs through its nostrils and lies its head back.

You work out of your top, nipples already tightening with the chilled air. Your fingers run over your soft abdomen, something that always made you smile at your own squishiness. The Knight seemed to like it too, if it constantly trying to press its head against your softness was any indication. Your thumbs hitch in your waistband, sliding them down your rounded thighs with your underwear following with a sliver of slick sticking to it. It makes your face flush at realizing how wet you were.

You shouldn’t tease, you know you shouldn’t. But you can’t help but take your underwear and hold it in front of its face. Watching its head follow the scent and a low, hungering hiss sliding from its teeth as its hands snatch the fabric from you. It presses the article to its face to inhale deeply, releasing a low growling exhale as its ovipositor slides fully out of its slit.

Their cocks were always beautiful to you. It was especially thick at the base and coming up almost like a rounded knot that’s to keep them intact to their partner to not lose any eggs, coming all the way up to a tapered head. Ribbed patterns line beneath the head down to the base, where you know it can expand for the eggs to be lain with ease. The slit on the head is wide for the same reasons, leaking this translucent black fluid like it is now in preparation for you. The knot looked as thick as your wrist, doable but definitely going to be a strain, its length looking about seven or eight inches which made you tremble already.

How...how deep could it lay its eggs in a human? Internal organed xenomorphs had no cervix, no hinderance to this sort of thing. Your breath catches at the anticipation of the very thought it could fit deeper into you. You knew its lubrication also doubled as a muscle relaxer, helping ease their longer and thicker cocks deep within their mates. Would it be enough to ease you to take their eggs into your womb?

A low hiss reaches your ears and your eyes quickly dart to its face rather than its cock you were eyeing shamelessly. Seems your underwear isn’t doing it anymore. It slowly rises, waiting for you to reject, but you lie back in the soft furs instead, spreading open your legs with a small tremor when you part them.

Its much larger body pulls itself on top of yours, its smooth head starting at your knees and lifting until it can find your cunt. Its cold breath exhales across your flushed and wet flesh, making your hips come up without thinking and pressing to its mouth.

You can see drool coming down its chin, lifting its head with great resistance to nose at your soft abdomen like it loved so much. It buries its face there, scenting you before its head comes up with almost nuzzle-like gestures at your breasts. It seemed to like the softness you had and you can't help the soft laugh you emit. It felt so...normal to be nuzzled up on.

You’re suddenly gripped then with a yelp from your lips. Rolled onto your abdomen and your hips being pulled up by bony, long fingers. You’re glad you prepped with toys earlier, feeling the tapered head slide against your lower lips and slipping across your clit in a missed thrust.

A swear falls from your lips, reaching under you with shaky fingers until you wrap your fingers around its cock. The reaction is instant, a trill falling from its throat and attempting to fuck against your palm. “Wait, you big doofus-” You grumble mostly to yourself, but the Knight mimics your tone back how you say ‘wait’, its hips pausing as if confused. Questioning you.

It gives you time to draw your hips up into its grip, sliding its cock down against you until it catches on your hole. The thrust it gives immediately is sloppy and excited, entering you a few inches before it moves slower. You moan low in your throat, burying your face in your crossed arms under your head as you lean back down, your entire body shaking.

Its cock wasn’t fleshly like a human’s, almost like a harder silicone feeling made to morph to the shape of your body. It felt cold in comparison to your body, and you can only imagine how hot you feel to it.

There’s a slow press into you now, its claws digging into your hips and definitely making you bleed. You don’t mind the sharp pain. Though, you do smile when you feel it press at the back of your neck with its cold face. Sweet thing wanting your attention. You lift yourself up onto your hands instead, bowing your back as you reach up and behind you to cup under its jaw to draw its head over your shoulder. The hiss you hear by your face is low and wanting when you clench your inner walls around it, sighing out yourself. “Good. There you go, baby, nice and slow.”

You’re not sure if you’re speaking to fill the silence or because it seems fond of your voice anymore. Regardless, it works in your favor when you hear a soft trill, its hips moving just as slow in little humps to enter you fully. The knot rests outside you for now, pressing to the rim of your hole but not entering just yet.

Your head drops and your shoulders heave. You felt so full, something exhilarating about this whole thing. Your thoughts are soon put on pause when you feel its hands press around your abdomen with a tug. You follow the motion, sitting up on your knees and feeling it splay its own long legs out to follow your lower body to accommodate size difference. You’re held back against it, your back to its chest as its arms encircle you like it loved to do. Your hand remains on its jaw, stroking with your thumb in one of the crevices there.

A cooing noise falls from it and you mimic the sound, resting your cheek against its head as its hips start to hump up into you. You don’t feel any pain, its own lubrication working quick with your own. All you feel is wet and heat pooling in your lower abdomen with each desperate hump up into you. Soft sighs fall from your lips, way different from the growling and hissing you hear nearby your ear with its drool dripping onto the furs below you and onto your shoulder.

Your free hand reaches down, sliding down past its hand and down to your clit to rub it in circles in sync with its thrusts. It starts to get a bit harder now that you’re squeezing down on it, a moan falling from your lips and your head falling back to its shoulder. You’re aware you’re baring your throat, and it seems the Knight does as well when fingers come up to circle your neck. They don’t squeeze, holding you there with its other hand digging its nails into your hip as its hips slam against you harder.

Possessive.

“Fuck-” You hiss out, your body already as your first orgasm hits you. Your fingers circle your clit harder until it’s too much, drawing your hand away to reach behind yourself to grab at the xenomorph’s hip to encourage it to be rougher.

You don’t get the brutal breeding you expect and desire. Instead, it stops. Slamming deep into you and forcing its knot into you. No pain, but a deep pressure widening you out making a cry fall from your lips, arching your back only to get yanked right back with a low, rumbling growl from its chest. Possessive and quiet.

You weren’t going anywhere.

You hold still like forced to, its low snarls settling and its hand on your hip leaving. Its head bows to look down your body as its fingers find your clit to mimic what you had been doing to yourself. God, you always forgot how intelligent they were.

“Ss--shit-” You shudder, your head falling back against its shoulder as soft cries leave you, pushing past your harsh panting. It croons softly in its throat, turning its head to gently bonk your cheek with its head until you turn your head to press soft kisses across the hard carapace. Up until you’re gasping, your abdomen starting to get taut.

“Oh God, yes, yes, yes like that, just like that,” You’re whimpering out when it applies more pressure, your knees locking as another orgasm rips through you with ease. You scramble with the intensity , your free hand gripping its wrist when its fingers keep moving. A sharp whimper leaves you, but it seems to decipher it’s not from pain because the hand on your throat tightens briefly. Quietly telling you not to move as your cunt squeezes around its cock and knot, contracting with every flick of its fingers like it had seen you doing.

Oh, it liked that your body tightened around it. Filthy little thing was doing it on purpose.

“Ah, ah, ah-” Soft moaning whines fall from your lips again, shamefully even more turned on by the threat of its claws on your neck. You press your body back against its hard one, only giving more of an opening to your body that it takes with pleasure. Experimenting with circling your clit and the pressure you had put until you’re crying out and straining against the hand on your throat as you cum a third time in record succession.

Its hand only moves from your clit so it can grab your hip to hold you flush back against it. It can’t move much in you, not with its knot filling you and holding you together, but that doesn’t seem to stop it from humping against your frantically. You’re so out of it, drooling and your eyes fluttering that you hardly feel when the base of its ovipositor begins to fill out a little bigger than its knot.

You get your answer from earlier on if you would be relaxed enough, because you feel an odd stretch in your lower abdomen. Not painful, just a little odd. You know from experience that their eggs are just about the size of your fist and they could lay up to four. But this xenomorph was bigger and a higher rank. Which could mean that it would have only one or two eggs. You thank your luck on that one, unsure of how many your body could hold.

“Oh-” You gasp out when you feel it settle into you fully. It’s got a weight to it, felt more with how the xenomorph tries to huddle against your body closer. One of its hands sliding up from your hip to rest on your lower abdomen where it presses lightly over where the pressure rested. You whimper as you’re guided back onto all fours, bracing yourself on your arms and letting your chest rest on your crossed arms again.

The second egg you can feel when you close your eyes. Again, no pain, just a sliding, thicker pressure up your inner walls until that pressure is thicker in your lower abdomen. There are teeth hovering above the crook of your neck that makes you stiffen, but you’re so out of it you tilt your head and plead with it to bite you. You don’t get that pain, only its face pressing against your neck like it so desperately wanted to but knew it was a bad idea.

There are a few more violent grinds against your ass before you hear a snarl ripping out of it, going into a high hiss as it cums inside you. Its cum was thick for reasons such as this, made to be thick enough it could help the eggs stick in you and keep you numbed up. You can feel each harsh pulse of its cock as thick ribbons of cum spill into you, spilling out past its knot and onto the furs underneath you and on your inner thighs.

There’s a moment where you two rest like that. You, overstimulated and practically fuck drunk right now, comfortable with your hips still held high in the air. The Knight, with its arms encircling your waist and applying its weight on your back to relax with lazy rolls of its hips as its orgasm still trails out of it.

After a few minutes, it slides out of you nice and slow with only some thick cum drooling out of you. You had planned to maybe leave the hive, go and lie down on a table and have Lillian examine you, but you can’t find the strength in your shaking legs. And with the way it's now guiding you to lie spooned against its chest all tucked up, you’re going to assume you’re not allowed to leave yet anyway.

It presses against the top of your head with its face, hands resting protectively over your lower abdomen where you can feel your abdomen bulging out slightly. You whine softly in your throat, grumbling about the cold which gathers its attention to briefly let go of you and pulling three furs atop your body. Right before it goes back to holding you with a satisfied, low trill.

Guess that answered your question on if it was starting to understand you too, huh?

You’ll tell Lillian all about it, you think as your eyelids grow heavier and heavier.

Maybe your alien children can learn to understand English too, are your last thoughts with a smile on your face as you slip into a warmed sleep. Knowing you are safe with the extraterrestrial predator that knocked you up’s embrace.

#Aliens #Aliens vs Predators #Xenomorphs #Xenomorph x Reader #nsft #lemon #monster fucking #commissions #princess writing

2K notes · View notes

canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 173

After the last two chapters of hurt, I felt the need to torture Sophia, just a wee bit. As a disclaimer: We love Grey. We all, 100%, seriously do. And I am all for infodumps. But when you can’t ask questions? Wellll......

Disclaimer: No actual torture happens in this chapter. There is mention of medical restraints, but they are for safety, not punishment.

Somehow, @baelpenrose stuck with me while I was half-asleep writing the first draft of this, and was able to pull a miracle out of someone’s back side when I asked at one point on the second draft ‘I don’t even know what is going on here and I wrote it...wtf?’

Despite my expectation, my visitor the next day was not, in fact, Charly. Instead, Grey Hodenson walked into the medbay, so calm that you would never guess that I was clearly restrained, being investigated for assault, and being monitored for a potential psychotic break.

Sometimes, I thought James Bond would look ruffled and grubby next to Grey. I really did.

“As you are aware,” they started before even taking a seat, “we are now in sub-luminar space, which means we can receive more updated information about the planet formerly designated as Kepler-442b. I have volunteered to bring you up to date on our most recent information, since you cannot receive datapad relays.”

Sure. Not because my databand was currently in Xiomara’s custody as evidence. I just nodded for them to continue.

“As you already know, the planet now designated as Von is nearly tidally locked. Currently the diurnal cycle of the planet is 178,560 minutes, or 124 Terran days, forty nine and one half Von - Vonish? Vanian? - days.” They made a note on their datapad when I smirked, nodding. “Yes, I agree. We really need to standardize that. Terrans come from Terra, Martians come from Mars, etc. I will mention it to Hannah and Parvati.”

Ouch.

Grey ignored my scowl and continued the physical science lessons. “The solar period, on the other hand, is roughly one hundred and twelve Terran days and nine hours, equating to roughly ninety Von days. Also less than one actual day on the planet, complicating things severely when compared to how Terrans measure time at the present.”

The solution was obvious, at least to me. I tried to speak up and mention this, but no sound would come out. I wasn’t surprised, totally: it had been explained to me early on that the air in the medbays was kept at a far lower humidity than the rest of the ship as a result of the air also being cooler to preserve the various medicines and reduce any fevers. I nodded firmly at the bulb of water on my table, which Grey dutifully presented.

“If you need relief from dehydration, this should help,” they advised. It sounded overly formal until they elaborated, “However, you have also been sonically dampened as much as possible unless needed for legal proceedings, so the water will not help you speak. I wanted to ensure you were aware.”

To say I was unaware was an understatement. Grey seemed to anticipate the water that I spit everywhere, barely even bending to avoid any spray, but still did not suffer a single drop.

“I can see that you were not advised,” they sighed. “I refuse to apologize for something that was not my decision, but I am quite irate at Simon and your partners for not telling you.” A head shake and a deep breath later, they composed themself. “However, I do want to assure you that several other people have suggested, specifically on your behalf, the most obvious possible solution to tracking years and days on Von. To quote Arthur Farro, time is a construct, so on, so forth. The current popular opinion among the Council and Council-adjuncts is to equate a year on Von to four diurnal cycles, as that would equate to a clean equality. I heartily support this measure, for reference.”

I blinked strongly, trying to convey the need to move it the fuck on.

I assume it got through, since Grey continued. “The second most popular proposal is to track time on our own schedule, but this relies significantly on being able to locate caverns deep enough that the period spent facing Kepler 442 - which I assume we will arbitrarily refer to as ‘The Sun’, seeing as no one has demonstrated an interest in naming it….” Grey’s sigh could probably lift an aircraft at this point, but I found it hard to feel any shame at their accuracy when - you know, I couldn’t talk. “That the period facing Von’s sun will not melt the caverns.”

Without even thinking, I tried to point out that we would still need to track things like growing seasons. And then, like a moron, I screamed in frustration.

Grey was completely nonplussed by my attempts, and even less so by the attempt I made to strangle them. Seeing as I was restrained, they probably didn’t even notice. Could have at least pretended, I pouted to myself.

“The good news is that the planet is as rocky as we were previously advised,” they sighed contentedly. “Metal content is poor, and there are confirmed to be no plate tectonics. I see this as a boon, since it means that any settlement we establish is not at risk of collapsing due to earthquake or volcanic activity.”

I gestured pointedly for more water, and when Grey brought it to my mouth I made a point to bite the container so they could no pull it away. Resorting to tactics heretofore only seen by Sparkle or Lyric, I shook the container in my teeth and glared at it pointedly.

After several attempts, Grey figured out what I was going for.

“Yes! I am so sorry, yes. There is water on Von, we have confirmed reports.” It only took one more shake and two glares to get the actual question across. “Evaporation! You are quite right, it was a concern.” After another good drink, I released my captive chew toy and allowed Grey to elaborate. “The most recent studies indicate that the liquid water actually recedes underground during the hot season - the planet has many geothermal vents, actually fueled by the heat from the hot side of the planet.”

Several flicks back and forth of the file on Grey’s datapad forced me to envision them shuffling papers in excitement. “It’s quite different from Terra, I will confess. The hot side warms the water, increasing the pressure, and it pushes to the part of the planet with lower pressure - the caverns on the cold side.” They firmly tapped their face between the eyes, a gesture that no amount of years without glasses could fix.

Damnit, now my face itched to push up the glasses I didn’t even have on. Damn you, Grey… I adored them but this was honestly torture.

With no way to convey Hey, forehead scritchies, Grey just ploughed on. “Your concern about glaciers and melting did turn out to be correct, I know you will be happy to hear. We will not be able to construct permanent surface habitats, unfortunately. In trade, the underground caverns are even more hospitable than the surface was on Terra.”

My eyes flew wide open, and I tried my best to leverage into a sitting position. What!? I mouthed comically, over exaggerating my expression and praying Grey had anticipated this. Grey, there are cultures that literally depend on a lunar or solar cycle, and you are about to tell them to eff off, I thought.

To no avail, apparently. “There are no moons, which is common to tidally locked or partially-locked planets,” they continued, oblivious. “Between the amount of sun we will be receiving during what has already been termed the ‘hot season’, and the fact that our accommodations are going to be underground, I have significant doubts that we will experience any significant difference.”

At no point had I even considered that we would be fully underground, and I didn’t recall it ever coming up among the Councillors or my friends and family. Tears trickled down my cheeks in frustration, since no amount of sign language proficiency could compensate for the fact that my arms were restrained. I didn’t even try, I just hoped that Tyche would argue her face off and demand that everyone possible could hear her points.

That hope was the only thing keeping me from thrashing against my restraints, honestly. Tyche was amazing at standing up for people, even when violence wasn’t the right solution. Even while in hyperspace or whatever it was called, we had adjusted to the day/night cycle we had anticipated on Von, while using Sol-imitating bio-lamps that Charly had created in the public areas deemed to be ‘indoor’, creating fifteen hour days and fifteen hour nights.

“There is, obviously, no question of maintaining the current schedule of lighting,” Grey insisted to my horror. “Miss Harper and Mister Richardson are already working on new lamps to create lunar phases on the traditional twenty-eight day loop.”

Wait, what? I was so confused, and at least that showed clearly enough that even Grey was able to recognize it.

“Sophia,” they admonished gently. “Humans are simply not adapted to ninety day diurnal cycles. Even thirty hours is pushing our limits. Of course we will continue to use Miss Harper’s clever lights as the water filtration system in the caverns. They will simply be supplemented by a secondary lunar cycle imitation, once the two of them have found the right combination to do so organically.”

Oh thank fuck. I collapsed in relief, limp against the berth, my restraints, everything.

“What else did you believe I could have meant?”

No amount of confusion on Grey’s face could prevent the urge I felt just then to strangle them for not being clearer, sooner. Lucky for them, I had a couple more days to think about the best way to avoid it.

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

50 notes · View notes

apopic · 1 year

Text

How Ship Protection and Monitoring Relays Works

Ship protection and monitoring relays ensure safety and a high level of ship electrical system availability by monitoring electrical power (voltage, current, and frequency).An important function of ship monitoring relays is early error detection. This makes it possible to respond to irregularities before it is necessary to switch off part or all of a ship’s electric system. Ship monitoring…

View On WordPress

#control circuits on ship #el power on ship #monitoring relays #protection relays on ship #ship monitoring relays #ship power system relays

1 note · View note

ignisnocturnalia · 4 years

Text

Variks x Reader Relationship HC's

Gonna write you as a new light, apologies my God-slaying siblings

News of the Pyramids over Europa reaches far and wide, as does stasis

With this discovery, relayed by a veteran guardian, also reveals news of the Eliksni who instigated the riot at the Prison of Elders

Being freshly revived, there's not much you can make out of the hostility the other Guardians offer the alien

Curious about him, you make a bold request to be stationed on Europa to "monitor" him

Of course, Zavala denies your request and speaks of how important your guns would be here at home

While you say you understand, you're secretly trying to find your way around it

The Drifter

You heard about his escapades to the frozen planet, reasons unknown, but still able to slip through Vanguard sanctions

As usual, a Guardian siding with the Vanguard approaching you with a purpose usually isn't a good thing

"Somethin' you want, kid?"

His tone is carefully jovial, bordering neutral, but you're not foolish enough to think he actually trusts you

"I need to get to Europa."

He stares at you for a solid minute before sizing you up, an inquisitive glare settling on his face

"What's in it for me?"

Having been on Strike detail for months on end, you've got a sweet heap of glimmer and nothing to use it on; you know he doesn't care a lot for the currency, so you offer up your weapons alongside it

He gives you a lopsided grin as he takes the arsenal, waving off the glimmer and taking you to his ramshackle ship

Unsurprisingly, it's a quiet ride, your own Ghost unsure of your actions

Drifter gives you little warning before transmitting you off the ship, leaving you to fall flat on your ass in the deep snow

Despite being a little upset about this, you finally see your goal, the very Eliskni that brought new questions to the ice planet

Every step you take lands your foot in a fluffy sheet of snow, sounding out with a crunch you had never heard before

Soon enough, you've completely deviated from the reason you came to the planet, completely obsessed with the snow under you

The entire time, Variks has been watching you from the window of his base making a fool of yourself

Distantly, he realizes that he thinks you're cute like that

"Here to help, yes?"

You are COMPLETELY caught off guard, turning quickly on your heel before slipping on the ice and landing flat on your ass

A shadow falls over you as you look up to see the well spoken Eliksni towering over you, and you're immensely thankful for the helmet hiding your blush

He offers you one of his real hands, helping you up and you can't help but notice how his hunched form is hiding a solid 8" from his height

Bringing you inside, you slowly decompress from the outside chill and Variks formally introduces himself

You quickly take note of how each of his sentences are punctuated by insect noises, which are quite fun to hear

You explain your circumstances and even though you can only see his eyes, you can feel the confusion in the air

"You left the Tower.. to see me? Variks does not know who you are; you do not know Variks, yes?"

You're slightly disappointed but not surprised by his suspicious behavior, after seeing how other Guardians harped about him

You then remember something very important

"I don't have a ship to get back."

Your ship still sat in the Hangar, locked down until it was needed for use

Variks stood in front of you quietly before also noticing something unusual about you; your weapons were missing

"Stay. I will contact your Commander."

You immediately spring from your seated position, grabbing at his shoulder before he can reach the comms

He seems to understand your plead

You spend the next few days eating freeze dried food, along with MRE's supplied by another curious party on Europa

Variks doesn't join you until he's finished eating in another room, and the conversations you can strike up are limited

You ask him to teach you Eliksni

He appears shocked at first but eagerly obliges, now showing up to eat with you

It's been a good couple of weeks, and you've got a few phrases and words under your belt

Nothing translates directly, everything is interpreted based on the small word choice

Variks didn't know, but you had spent the last 3 days trying to figure out what the closest thing to "I love you" was in Eliksni

That night, when you both settle down to eat, you eye Variks with a renewed purpose

The fuzz in your brain dissipates as, astoundingly, he moves to take off his mouth cover

You can't help but stare at his revealed face not noticing how he fidgets a bit under your intense stare

"Apologies, (y/n). I did not mean to ruin your appetite."

It was now or never

Moving over to sit next to him, you shyly looked up to see he had yet to put the mask back on, instead looking at you with uncertainty

"Yu ne ze." You are my gift. I love you.

The Eliksni's eyes widen and his body stiffens and you worry for a second that you've made a mistake before he turns fully and leans into your face

"Ma yun ne."

His mandibles are often used to caress your face

You find yourself with gifts and trinkets waiting in your small room in the base

He has you spot check his weapons, testing them out and generally having a blast with them

Other Guardians have seen you on occasion, but very few have approached you to ask questions about the mysterious Eliksni

Variks loves it when you hold his hands, even more so when you pet his face

When you find out he can purr, it's one of the most sought after sounds during your intimate moments, and sometimes he will purr simply to indulge you

Even if you're an undead warrior, Variks still piles furs on to your shoulders to make sure you don't get cold during outings

You have had to fend off assassins, often at the cost of your life

This pushes you to accept the deceptive whispers of the Pyramid, carrying you all the way to the Exo Stranger's den

She reluctantly agrees to teach you because of your inexperience, and although neither of you say anything, you and Drifter make quick eye contact

Variks can smell the Darkness on you and is very disappointed, but he doesn't tip off that he knows

Instead, he uses it as an excuse to put you under house arrest

He catalogues every single symptom you have that could barely begin to resemble a sickness, encouraging you to stay inside until you're better

During the nights, you notice he holds you much more tightly against his body

You apologize for your zealousness regarding his safety

Your lessons in Eliksni continue, and soon enough you can hold your own in small conversations with him

Whenever you or Variks look at each other trying to figure something out, you both always ask about the question in your mind

Whoever is asked ends up sitting in the other's lap, but you've found that it's much more convenient to sit in his own

This exploration leads to daily petting or grooming sessions, giving way for more risque activity to take place

Nsfw 👁👄👁

Variks orients himself as a switch, but you can tell he enjoys being on the bottom a little more if his rapid breaths are anything to go by

Brushing and lightly scratching segments on his exoskeleton are immense green lights for him, especially adding just enough force to push into the seams between his limbs

He's very gentle with his teeth, but the red marks he leaves on your body are generous from the amount of fondling he carries out

He's perfectly fine with both of you being bare, so long as a heat source is nearby

This level of exposure allows you to feel every rumble, trill, and moan straight from his chest and you can't deny just how hot it is to have an entire alien making these noises because of you

He delivers plenty of foreplay, always giving you the option to back out of it

With your size difference, you have to work to move up and down his body when you're both laying down

One of his favorite things is when you drag your teeth along his neck or chest, no real threat of harm but an undeniable thrill for him

He may start slow, but towards the end? You're better off simply letting him take care of you the next day

Fluff

After particularly tedious days, you will pull him into your shared room and pepper his face with kisses

Whenever he wants to nap, he selectively chooses your lap so you can massage his back or his forehead

Following the official announcement of your relationship, Zavala finally submits and gives you full permission to stay stationed on Europa, at the price of lengthy field reports at the beginning of every month

Variks, of course, teases you while writing these papers

He'll correct a mistake you made way back in the paper, laughing quietly in the back of his throat as you fume at the obvious inaccuracy

Besides Vanguard papers, you've taken it upon yourself to make him a new arm

You decide to gift it to him once the Dawning starts

Note: I leave some of my handcanons open ended for more ideas, and yes, I am aware they are more like one shot/hc hybrids, but hey, take it as an invitation to ask me to actually write out the whole thing. I will not write out explicit nsfw unless asked, and if I am asked, it will always be gratuitous and extremely detailed ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Finals are eating my timbs tho, so I'm currently attempting to study for these hellspawn

#variks #destiny 2 #relationship headcanon #zavala #commander zavala #the drifter #exo stranger #elsie bray #variks the loyal #Variks x Reader

208 notes · View notes

my-writings-and-musings · 4 years

Note

Could you do Fort Max and First Aid for the oxygen loss?

Seriosuly loving it, angst and comfort/fluff is the best combination lmao

It is the best combination and those are two of the best boys so I am ON IT! Fort Max is in part eight listed below, but here's First Aid!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: You're Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

First Aid

·Ever one for new experiences, he'd been quite enthusiastic to have a human join the crew, and perhaps it was his penchant for thoroughly appreciating every unknown he came across that had led to your fast paced courtship. The bot had simply demonstrated an almost overwhelming fascination towards you from day one, and in short time the connection between the two of you had been discovered through his efforts. Now you were nearly inseparable. Off days and breaks are always used for bonding, and today is no exception. Atop his lap as he sits comfortably, you happily listen to his enthusiastic and commentary filled reading of a Wrecker's Declassified, loving how he has the most obvious and adorable starstruck look while doing so. You could listen all day just to see his schoolboy crush play out before you.

·For him, having someone who listens and values his opinions without hesitation is enough to get his spark humming. He's rather accustomed to being passed over for bots with more experience and fame, so seeing your eyes focused on him with such rapt attention is... well, it's just nice. Finding you exceptionally adorable doesn't make it any less sweet. Being human also means a great deal of his favorite topics are new to you, so he gets to introduce you to all the wonders of the Wreckers, something that he loves every moment of. It's also not unpleasant to have your tiny body close to his, practically snuggling against him... Cuddling is something more or less new to him as well, so having it at all is yet another wonder you've brought to his life. There's a vague hope in the back of his processor that he'll be brave enough to suggest sharing a berth someday, just for a nice nap together, as he's not yet been brave enough to ask such a thing of you.

·Unfortunately, the universe has very little respect for his plans. Accustomed to interruptions as an always on call medic, he can't help but be a little frustrated when Ratchet starts comming him out of the blue, but he knows better than to show it. Something serious must be going on if their CMO needs assistance. Still in your partner's lap, you watch as he answers the communication, quite used to sudden messages like this pulling him away. It's a part of dating a medic; but nothing about this seems standard. First Aid shifts his expression to one of concern as the voice comes through the comm in broken static, though he's experienced enough to put together what little there is. A warning of failing systems gets him moving on instinct, his arms scooping you up as he moves to stand, and the instructions to head to his emergency stations is almost unnecessary when the line goes dead.

·You're surprised but not offput by the sudden change in your position, if only because being swept into his arms is... very nice. That doesn't prevent you from knowing something is off though, and thankfully he is just as aware of you as he is his responsibilities as a medic, more so of you to tell the truth... A calm visor reflects your face as he lifts you close to relay the situation. Something is wrong with the ship, he explains, and it's bad enough that Ratchet made a preemptive call for medical bots to get moving. That means he needs to get to the medical bay, and before you can ask he brings up the possibility of you coming with him. Worry is just perceptible on his face as he hesitantly expresses that having you there would be safer, and thus he'd feel better... The bashful look is so cute you momentarily forget the danger to give him a reassuring kiss on his faceplate while accepting the proposition.

·Ignoring the stars you make him see with a tiny smooch, he gets right to work, securing you in one arm and ensuring his room is locked before heading out. He can't help but feel protective as he does so, almost like your guard against the threat that feels omnipresent in every hallway. You feel the same, and he can tell by how you hold him tighter in his grasp, something that stirs his spark with almost overpowering affection. It's enough to make him certain he'd fight like a Phase Sixer to protect you... For your part, a similiar drive to keep him safe is present, despite the difference in size between you. Hopefully you help him feel a little more secure as the two of you move through the eerily quiet hallways.

·The protective instincts First Aid has honed in his career as a medic give him a half second warning that danger is inbound, but all he is able to do in that time is curl around you protectively when the world seems to shake itself asunder. Hard floors meet his back in a painful rush, and you're similiarly jostled against him, though thankfully the worst of the blow is softened by his reflexive brace for impact. Tremors continue to rock the ship once you both realize you're on the ground, but a great cacophony of noise fails to die down when the shaking does. It's not a noise you've ever heard before; though you can compare it to metal being torn, the echoing and overbearing sound is at a scale you can't even comprehend.

·First Aid, having a natural coolness under pressure, is able to collect himself even as the situation continues evolving. The alarm begins to go off as he gets himself off the floor, and he notes that had it not the entire crew would probably still be mobilizing. There was no way anybot didn't feel what he just happened to be a front row spectator towards. While being on a ship of soldiers meant backup would soon be available, he had a few concerns that just couldn't wait for the guards to be scrambled. With one path to the medical bay now inaccessible, and you being so vulnerable, he needs to get somewhere safe to plan. He holds you close as the first open room becomes a makeshift shelter.

·Still reeling from the shock of everything, you find yourself atop a table in one of the Lost Light's many maintenance rooms, watching as First Aid attaches a portable operating flashlight to his helm. Before you can ask a single question the light is covering your body as he looks you over, asking for clarification on your basic functions while checking for injuries at the same time. Only when he's satisfied you're stable does the opportunity for speech present itself. Half expecting another massive tremor to hit at any moment, you ask what on earth made the ship move and sound like it had hit a Titan sized can opener, and his visor darkens with worry. You take hold of his hand to reassure and encourage him.

·The explanation is a bit rushed, but understandable; the ship has been ambushed, no doubt the enemy is preparing to board through the makeshift docking station they just created, and enemies will soon flood in... Also, most of the ship's systems appear to be offline. It's bad enough news that you feel suddenly woozy and need to sit back on your little table. Seeing you afraid drives First Aid into action, his processor working overtime to formulate a plan that will get you to safety, though admittedly the situation is a tough one. It's only when he takes proper stock of his surroundings and notes the monitor station that an idea takes shape.

·Intent on finding a clear path, he lays out his plan as he starts typing, explaining his thought process as he hacks into the virus addled program to get what he needs. Though you find solace in his confidence, the surprise from before is still wearing you down. Exhaustion seems to be the only thing you can truly comprehend... First Aid breaks through the enemy programs holding information back, but his victory proves short lived when the many systems start showing their current status, and his triumph turns to horror at one in particular. Critical to your survival, the atmospheric generators are among the malfunctioning systems. Oxygen levels are dropping by the minute. Without a word, he turns on the spot and begins looking you over again, earning a cry of surprise as he scoops you up.

·Alarmed and confused, you haven't a clue what might have spurred the usually in control bot to act so rashly, and have to sputter out the question when your clouded head fails to settle. Something like an explanation pours out of him, but there's very little you understand due to an increasingly sluggish mind. The growing exhaustion alarms him further. There's precious little time before you reach critical levels of oxygen deprivation, and the hypoxia has already rid you of the ability to process the situation... An ache in his spark is joined by one in his head as he tries to formulate a plan, and when he is left with only a long shot, he's forced to take it for your sake. There's a shake in his hands as he cannibalizes the room for parts, throwing together a makeshift air scrubber that will generate just enough breathable oxygen to get you to the medical bay. You smile as you watch him make it, suddenly too tired to stay awake but wanting to watch him craft, if only because his ingenuity is one of your favorite traits. The pleasant haze is still there even as he lifts you again to bring a makeshift oxygen mask to your face and begin running.

·All he can really do is hope, but there's precious little optimism in his spark as he makes the journey to the medical bay in a blind run, not running into enemies by sheer luck. The countless mistakes he's made so far are all that exist beyond your terrifyingly expressionless face. It's distracting enough that he's surprised when the team of Autobots appears from nowhere, particularly as Ratchet is amongst them, but before the CMO can say a word First Aid is pleading with the more experienced medic for help. He feels like a student on their first bad rotation in a hospital ward, facing the possibility of death for the first time, only a million times more agonized because you're on the line. The older bot is mercifully understanding as he gently takes you and guides him back to the medical bay, where he enters a fog and settles in to his job without conscious thought. He sees everything; Ratchet stabilizes you with proper equipment, wounded bots start to come in with news the battle is over, the systems maintaining the ship all come completely online... None of it registers.

·All he can think of is how he failed. The machine he built could have been more effective, he should have predicted oxygen issues from the start, and had he not been distracting you with his foolish interests to begin with... It physically hurts, but he doesn't allow himself even a moment of reprieve from the self admonishment, and dedicates himself entirely to your wellbeing. Every tiny facet of your recovery is microanalyzed, down to the thousandth of a percent. He won't risk losing you to more of his mistakes. It's bad enough that he doesn't permit joy to show on his face when you finally begin to stir, not even cracking a smile when your beautiful eyes finally blink open and you look into his visor. Your own expression, however, immediately shifts to one of exhausted but emphatic relief. Seeing the bot you love alive after the chaos you remember enduring is more than you could have asked for.

·He can't help but be incredibly gentle as he asks how you feel, his affection too strong to ever suppress in its entirety. But you can see the struggle in his actions, having become so accustomed to his presence that the out of character reservation is as obvious to you as a fireworks display, so you quickly ask if he's okay after everything that happened. The innocent question actually makes him flinch. Not a moment later he breaks and loses the calm air of a medic, collapsing into a nearby chair to confess that your injuries are his fault, caused by a myriad of failures he can't reconcile. Head in his hands, he's caught off guard when you make an effort to move from your little bundle of blankets and tubes keeping you stable.

·Before he can say a word to stop you, he is silenced by a little hand taking hold of his digit, and though the mask is firmly fitted you still speak loud and clear enough for him to hear the firmness in your voice. As lovingly as you can, you insist that he stop what he's doing. Loving him is worth any risk, but because he's as resourceful and brilliant as he is, you had made it through a situation most wouldn't have survived. The rest of the universe may not always see his worth, but you do every time you see him. Growing dizzy from the force of your conviction, you're gently shushed and encouraged to lie back, yet to your exhausted delight First Aid appears anything but pained as he works. Adjusting your blankets and tenderly ensuring your comfort, he doesn't need to say thank you through anything but his actions. As always, you've brought him back down from that exhausting despair he grappled with so often in the past. After all, he must be capable indeed to have earned the love of someone so wonderful and unique. The least he can do is show his gratitude in a gentle brush of his thumb over your palm as you drift back to sleep.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #idw #tf #ll #my writing #my asks #requests #prompts #human reader #self insert #first aid #first aid x reader

132 notes · View notes

twistedintern · 4 years

Photo

(Credit to @VILSWIFE on Twitter for the questionnaire, and special thanks to @appleflowerwritings for bringing this to my attention!) Time to get back into the swing of things, and what better way to do that than by expanding upon yume ship lore? Hopefully this doesn’t come off as weird...

(Although... I am loath to admit that I’d do better to wait until the next NRC Unified Exams before taking the plunge like this. I suppose I can always revise my responses to reflect official lore later on.)

“Person A” is Kyuu. “Person B” is Trein.

Question (1) - As mentioned in Kyuu’s personal chronicle, the two met in passing when Kyuu first awoke in a empty coffin in Night Raven’s Mirror Chamber. Their encounter was so brief that it almost didn’t register in Kyuu’s mind (she was too busy being terrified by Crowley’s appearance in the dark to focus on much else). It would only be about a week later when she was assigned to work with him that she would realize that Crowley was not alone when he discovered her; on that occasion he was accompanied by a stately man and a cat. The two formally became acquainted that day over tea and snacks.

Question (2) - Crowley described the sort of person Trein was to Kyuu before she had the chance to meet him. As the headmaster is the type who’s always on the receiving end of a lecture from the professor, he exaggerated the latter’s rigidity and inability to get along with others. Kyuu had terrible first experiences with his colleagues, so she took the headmaster’s words as gospel and came to dread meeting him one-on-one.

...But when they did meet, Trein was firm in explaining to her why others perceive him as they do. Kyuu realized she misjudged him and felt horrible about it for some time afterwards. Her current impression of him is founded not on fear, but deep respect. For her, he represents propriety and discipline--a constant in a chaotic new world.

Question (3) - Trein himself did not think much of Kyuu when Lucius came across her that night she appeared in Twisted Wonderland. He initially suspected she was a runaway who stole away to the school grounds--the sort of person who would prove to be a problem for the staff of Night Raven in the short-term. But once Crowley relayed her peculiar state of affairs during a general meeting--and that she would be taken on as an “intern”--he was a bit surprised (and irritated by the headmaster’s rash executive decision). But Lucius had taken to her, and his dear companion was nothing if not a superb judge of character.

He figured her to be bumbling or inattentive or immature; younger folk are always difficult in some way or another. She proved him wrong the first time they sat down to chat. She was very much a breath of fresh air, she was respectful, humble, and took an active interest in his work despite being half his own age. He appreciates her company and values her as an individual.

(Questions (4) & (5) have been omitted because I’ve not yet thought about this.)

Question (6) - Kyuu’s feelings for Trein gradually grew so intense as to occupy her every waking thought: he was her first love; she’d never before felt like this towards another. A confession wasn’t a question of “if”, but a matter of “when”--something Kyuu intended to stay for as long as possible. Fate had other plans, naturally... Kyuu made the mistake of working late with Trein at the latter’s residence one particularly stormy night. When she became cognizant of the hour and made to leave, Trein urged her to stay the night. She conceded: any attempt to brave the storm would end in disaster. Their proximity was enough to break Kyuu’s resolve, especially when it occurred to her that he couldn’t reject her... or, that he wouldn’t leave her at the mercy of winds and rain.

Trein did not reject her... but he did not express that he reciprocated her feelings, either. He didn’t give her a response; the only indication that he heard her was that he remained still while she spoke.

A number of days would pass, with Kyuu taking pains to avoid Trein at any and all costs. Trein would be the one to approach her; all the while, he behaved as though the incident never happened in the first place. Weeks later, when the two were working at his residence, Kyuu recognized a familiar warmth: contentment. A feeling of peace; an acceptance of herself and the incident.

Then Trein broached the topic once more.

His voice was calm; he sounded neither resentful nor accusatory. Every nerve in Kyuu’s body urged her to run away--she couldn’t bear shameful weight of her foolhardy sentiments. He was about to reject her... but she stood her ground. It was her just desserts, in a way, for allowing misguided feelings to dictate her behavior.

Then he quietly took her hand and gave her a gentle, small smile:

“I hope you can accept my sincerest apologies. The fact of the matter is, I could not answer you at the time. I had a poor grasp of my own feelings when you had the courage and resolve to speak your heart. Know I’ve passed countless hours since in self-reflection. Romance, intimacy... love--these are not things to be taken lightly, after all....

“I’ve grown quite fond of you. If you’ll have me, I should like to give this--the two of us--a try.”

Question (7) - Kyuu loves Trein’s olden manner, strict sense of discipline, and passion for his work. Trein finds Kyuu’s diligence, honesty to a fault, and humility to be endearing.

Question (8) - Both enjoy looking after cats (though this extends to other animals for Kyuu), reading, and playing chess (which they rarely do together because Kyuu’s a mediocre player at best). They share love for history as well.

Question (9) - Both Kyuu and Trein look down upon truant and delinquent behavior. They believe rules exist to be followed.

Questions (10) & (11) - Between the two, Kyuu is much more likely to seek affection and company. She’s not pushy or demanding about it--in fact, she’s generally unwilling to put her desires into words, especially in public. (She finds couples who engage in gratuitous PDAs rude.) Her gestures lack the grace of Trein’s rare but deliberate actions. Trein will express his love with measured care; never failing to demonstrate the utmost formality and poise when doing so. Still, he only takes the initiative when he’s certain Kyuu requires reassurance, though both are quite confident in their bond. Oftentimes, they’re just content to be around one another.

Question (12) - Trein, though both are early birds.

Question (13) - Kyuu will talk more if something’s on her mind, but Trein can speak on his profession for hours if given the chance (Kyuu is more than happy to listen to him during those times).

Question (14) - They’re both reserved when it comes to showing affection in public. Kyuu tends to be more affectionate in private, however.

Question (15) - A lovely dinner at a fancy restaurant followed by a quiet evening reading and engaging in hushed discussion about any number of things in the company of Lucius.

Question (16) - A library.

(Questions (17) & (18) have been omitted.)

Question (19) - Trein. Kyuu’s pride keeps her from apologizing for however long she feels like she’s in the right (which isn’t long).

Question (20) - ...Yes. A son and a daughter. Both take after their father in terms of manner and diligence, but they possess their mother’s empathy and willingness to accommodate the needs of others.

Question (21) - When Trein first asks Kyuu to call him by his given name.

Question (22) - Trein a cat, Kyuu a fox.

Question (23) - Kyuu.

Question (24) - Probably Trein, but he doesn’t cook much.

Question (25) - Kyuu enjoys a bevy of different foods; Trein is more reserved in his tastes. While Trein has yet to take to any of Kyuu’s favorite dishes, Kyuu absolutely loves Trein’s favorite dish, vichyssoise: it was a comfort food of her childhood, one that she associates with feelings of security and family.

(Question (26) has been omitted.)

Question (27) - Kyuu would gift Trein books and tea blends, whereas Trein might give her antiques or small trinkets.

Question (28) - They’d just spend the day together doing small, meaningful things--nothing extravagant.

Question (29) - Trein.

Question (30) - Neither one is prone to getting sick. Whomever is well will keep close watch over the ailing partner, doing all manner of things to ensure their speedy recovery such as monitoring their temperature; and preparing foods and serving them meals in bed.

#twisted wonderland #twisted-wonderland #twst ocs #twst yume #mozus trein #twst x oc

12 notes · View notes

masterjedilenawrites · 4 years

Text

The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 29

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Fighting

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

Chapter 29: Old Friends, New Enemies

You had no way of tracking time in the dank, windowless room the Empire had set you up in, but you knew it'd been less than a day. Less than a day, and already they had come.

Boba hadn't been kidding when he'd warned of things getting messy. There was chaos everywhere as the place changed from a research facility to a military bunker on high alert. Sirens blared and radios went off and all personnel from stormtroopers to scientists ran anxiously to and fro. Instructions rang out from the intercom speakers, directing squadrons toward certain entrances or dispatching fleets to drive away those who hadn't yet landed.

You had eventually been dragged out of your room by a pair of dark troopers, intending to take you to a safe room elsewhere. But you were soon stopped by a bounty hunter who'd already made its way inside. It was a robot of some kind, though not like one you'd ever seen before, with a cylinder-shaped head and a stick-figure-like body that spun around as it took out everyone in the corridor but you.

Instead, it shot out a fiber cable, pinning your arms to your sides. And then it clamped one of its hands around the back of your neck, firmly enough where you didn't try to fight back, and guided you toward the lift to the upper level.

As soon as the lift doors opened, though, you were met by a pair of masked, black-clad hunters. You only had enough time to register them as the ones who'd attacked you in Maz's palace, the mercenaries from Crimson Dawn, before the droid pushed you away from the doors and the blaster fight that ensued between them. You stumbled onto the ground and found it difficult to get yourself back up without the use of your arms. By the time you did get on your feet, the mercenaries had overtaken the droid, its metallic body short-circuiting on the floor beside you. One of them grabbed you and hauled you into the lift.

It went on like this for some time. Once the lift brought you to the ground floor, there were more hunters waiting. A fight would break out, and the new hunter would take down the old one, and you'd be moved a bit further through the facility before someone else showed up. There were droids, dark troopers, a man who looked like a lizard.... Some were knocked out, others merely distracted, and even more actually killed.

It was like a game to them, a challenge to see who was truly the best bounty hunter in the galaxy. But it was one you quickly realized you didn't have to worry about being a part of. Despite the violence, you were being kept safe. Each hunter's first move was to protect you. Each one was careful not to let their attacks of the others stray toward you. So you let them take you around, like a baton being passed in a relay race. And with each new exchange-of-hands, you hoped the next one would be to Boba Fett.

You didn't have to wonder if that moment would come for long. A song started playing over the intercom speakers in the facility, cutting off an announcement that technology and experiments would soon be evacuated. It was the song you had played for him, to let him know of the need for this crazy plan. He was here.

You were rounding a corner with your current captor, a burly thug you vaguely recognized as having hunted you back when you first came through the portal. As expected, others were waiting. This time, a duo who had the same tanned, wrinkly features, one slightly taller with a braided pony tail, and the other wearing goggles and holding a really big gun.

The gun fired and the thug fell beside you on the ground with a thud. The shooter grinned at you.

"Little missy!" he shouted above the music, handing the gun over to his partner and throwing his arms wide. "It's been too long since I saw your pretty face!"

"Hondo," you said with a sigh that was equal parts relief and disappointment. You looked down at the gaping hole that sizzled in the dead hunter's stomach. "That's quite the weapon."

"As I always say, speak softly and carry a big gun."

His friend snorted. "I thought it was drive a big tank?"

Hondo tut-ed. "Oh same difference, Quadoro. Anyway, it's courtesy of a really lovely woman we just met. Helped show us around. Had a real can-do attitude. Reminded me of a little lady I know..."

"Mom," you responded to the knowing look he gave you.

"Sounds like you might have stories to share with me now, eh kid?" Hondo smirked.

"Where is she?"

He beckoned you forward. "Just down here. We secured ourselves in a weapons room--"

"Experimental weapons," Quadoro clarified, undoing the cables still tied around your body as you went with them down the corridor.

"Yes, yes. It was fairly easy to identify you on the monitor, so as soon as you got to the hallway we came out for you."

You arrived at the room in question, the door swooshing open to let you in and promptly swooshing back shut behind you. Quadoro fired a round from the big gun at the control panel to prevent it from being reopened.

"Hey, careful!" Hondo snapped. "There's only so much charge in that thing! We might need it later!"

"It's just on the lowest setting."

"Exactly my point! What if we want to use the missile setting but you've already drained it from doing crap like this?"

You tuned out their bickering as you took in your surroundings. There were shelves and grates all around the white walls, stacked with firearms, grenades, and plenty of other devices you couldn't recognize but could only guess at their purpose. There were a few other doorways around the room, too, leading to further storage closets or hallways to other parts of the facility.

You could see a woman moving about in one of the closets. Your mom. You were about to make your way toward her when a particularly dramatic part of your song blared over the speakers, making Hondo laugh.

"What great music. I wasn't sure when Boba told us to hook that mess of cables up to the comms. Thought it was a waste of time given the circumstances, you know? But I like it. Adds some style."

"Boba?" you stopped to ask. "He's with you? He's here?"

"We ran into him after we landed but then split up. He's around somewhere...."

As if on cue, the door to another hallway on the other side of the room opened. There were sounds of a firefight beyond before a familiar green helmet entered, shooting behind him. Hondo and Quadoro moved in front of you with weapons drawn before they also recognized the hunter. When the threat in the hall was finally taken care of, the hunter closed the door and finally turned to face you all.

You couldn't help yourself; you ran around the pirates and threw yourself at Boba, awkwardly wrapping your arms around his armor and jetpack. He returned the embrace, but only briefly, pulling you back to inspect you for injuries.

"I'm fine," you insisted. He nodded reluctantly but still seemed on edge. You couldn't blame him. He had no idea what was really going on, only that things had become bad enough to alert every bounty hunter to your location.

As if reading your mind, he grumbled, "I hate this song. Gave me a heart attack when I heard it."

Though you'd had a reason to play it, and no other choice really, you still couldn't help but feel some guilt. Before you could even begin to explain some of what you had learned, your mom popped out of the little closet, carrying what looked to be a box explosives. She didn't seem to notice you yet.

"This is a great song, Hondo," she said. "A real classic."

Hondo motioned over to you. "Look who made their way to us. Guess we don't need to storm that basement after all."

Your mom smiled at you, relief evident in her features. "Hi hun. I wasn't sure what you were planning with that music player... and it is a little crazy... but I'm glad you're okay."

You gulped and reached for Boba's hand, bringing the stiff bounty hunter forward to meet her. His rough gloves scratched against your skin, but he allowed his fingers to wrap around yours, trusting you.

"Boba," you said softly. "This is my mom."

His expression was hidden beneath the helmet, but you didn't need to see it to know what it was. You knew exactly to what degree his frown lines would be, how his eyes would be solemn and his lips would struggle to remain relaxed and neutral. You knew he was happy for you, but sad for what it could mean for him.

Your mom's face, on the other hand, was emoting quite openly. She looked between the two of you with wide eyes and you could almost see her mind putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Eventually she relaxed a little and addressed him warmly.

"So you're the one we hired to collect our daughter."

You weren't sure how much of that sentence Boba was able to unpack right away. But he nodded his head respectfully and replied, "I guess I am. Pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you for protecting her," she smiled.

Hondo cleared his throat for attention. "Uh, I hate to break up this special meeting, but we should probably work on an escape plan before it's too late?"

Your mom nodded and set down her box, pulling out a small, handheld monitor from her belt and holding it out so you could all gather around. It was a heat map, similar to one you'd used before. Little dots moved all about. There was already a small cluster making its way toward the weapons room. You'd have maybe five minutes before they showed up.

"Unfortunately there aren't many options on this side of the facility," your mom said. She pointed to an outdoor spot just outside the hallway Boba had come from. "Just this platform here, but there won't be any transports. The portal generator is built into the cliffside just beside it, so it's technically a no-fly zone."

"My ship is in a fissure just here," Boba said, also pointing at the map. "It'll take a few trips to fly everyone over with my jetpack, though. I'm sorry, if I'd known I'd be saving multiple people..."

His quiet tone broke your heart. He really did feel remorseful, despite having had no way to know any different.

"Oh don't worry about us," Hondo spoke up, clapping his friend on the back. "We thought it'd be easy to collect the bounty on little missy here, but now we know there is none, we'll make sure she gets out safe. The Empire clipped our ship on the way in, but we can fight our way to some other transports. We'll add some distractions along the way."

"You can use this bay here," your mom offered. "They'll be using those pods to evacuate the experiments. Should make it easy to fly out under the radar."

"Perfect," Hondo grinned. "We'll start with the hooligans coming up the corridor."

The duo marched off to the hallway, Quadoro starting to hoist his big gun on his shoulder dramatically until Hondo snapped that he should really get something more practical. The pirate huffed and let it fall onto a nearby shelf before grabbing a smaller gun. They both gave you a salute before disappearing down the hall.

"I'm guessing you can only carry one at a time?" your mom asked in their wake. Boba nodded.

"So two trips, then..." she mused. Her finger glided over the screen where Boba had pointed out his ship earlier. It was black, with no features to distinguish the crags and dips of the terrain. But your mom seemed to be visualizing it in her head. You realized with a pang of sadness that while you had been traveling around the galaxy, she had been here, stuck in a sterile facility on a gloomy planet with devious people.

"There's a large air vent in that closet," she finally said, thumbing behind her. "It'll spit out down in the ravine... I'm just not sure where...."

"Good enough," Boba nodded again. "Even if it's not close to the ship, it'll provide protection for one of you while I take the other to it."

"Agreed," your mom said, leading you toward the vent in question.

"My helmet was reading high chemical levels in the air when I was outside. Will that be a problem?" Boba asked as he bolted the closet door shut from the inside. Ever thinking ahead, as always.

"Oh..." your mom sighed, though more in annoyance. "Yes, they emit from the ravines. The Empire's dug deep for their experiments, more so out here since this division's work has been the least productive."

She pulled some gas masks off a nearby hook and held one out to you. "It's only toxic when the lightning storms pass over. These masks will filter it until we can get to the ship."

You went ahead and strapped on the mask, trying not to think about how silly it probably made you look. You then helped Boba remove the grate from the vent in the floor. You could see the square metal shaft only descend down a short ways before branching horizontally away.

"I'll go first," you mom volunteered. Her mask hid her expression but the sheepishness was evident in her voice. "I'm claustrophobic."

She dropped down and began crawling away hastily. Boba nodded at you to go next. As you started crawling, you could hear him slide down behind you and move the grate back into place.

It was a very quick crawl. There was one grate along the way with a filter caked in dirt. Your mom pushed the flimsy thing aside and continued to lead you down the shaft. Even through the gas mask, you could tell you were getting closer to the outside. There was that same sulfuric smell you'd gotten a whiff of when you'd first landed, only much more potent in the dampened air.

Eventually your mom was kicking at the outside grate, the piece of metal clattering away. There was an outcropping of the cliffside just below that she climbed out onto. You joined her, blinking up at the darkened sky as little droplets of rain hit your exposed skin. It was a light rain, but consistent.

"Do you know where to go from here?" your mom asked as Boba clambered out of the vent behind you.

He flipped open the panel on his wrist cuff, using some kind of scanner to locate his ship. But then there was a noise, like a group of people shouting. He snapped it shut and peered around the edge of the cliffside, you and your mom sneaking a peek from behind him. The vent had only sent you right alongside the platform, the one that sat just below the portal generator. A group of bounty hunters had made their way onto it, using their own scanners to look around. Either your pirate friends hadn't succeeded in distracting the group from before, or this was a new party who'd come from elsewhere.

The three of you each uttered your own curse word. This was not good.

12 notes · View notes

procrastinatorimagines · 4 years

Note

hellooo, can i have imagine with Angus MacGyver?

Gala + Tension + Bombs

The fundraiser was a lot more glamorous than Matty had let on and the food, as Jack had said repeatedly through a full mouth, was delicious. It really was, there was caviar, shrimp and a whole array of hors d'oeuvres that made your mouth water, though you wished the portions were a little bigger. You weaved in between the guests on the arm of your date for the evening, Angus MacGyver, who was currently sporting a very flattering white suit. Not that you’d tell him the ‘flattering’ part - you’d actually told him that white was the worst colour to get stains out of. He may have joked that your floor length red dress was appropriate for hiding blood stains then, but that was the added bonus of the colour you were going for anyway.

A waiter came by with champagne flutes and Mac grabbed two for the both of you as you positioned yourself close to the dance floor, within ear shot of your targets - a couple of American arms traffickers posing as dignitaries, Conrad and Charlene Elmore. Both the man and the woman looked intimiating, their features were nearly as sharp as their outfits as they conversed with foreign nationals. The traffickers had decided that the best place to arrange a sell for their arms was at a fundraiser specifically designed to raise aid for those affected by the destruction their weapons, and those like it, caused.

You, Mac and Jack were tasked with tailing the sellers, while Riley and Bozer monitored from the van, checking incoming communications for when the buyers would arrive and seeing if they could trace the weapons themselves. Matty’s intel told the Phoenix that they were making their trade in untraceable diamonds, but you did not know what the buyers looked like, or when they were meeting the sellers at the fundraiser.

“Okay, keep your eyes peeled, it’s been over an hour since Mr and Mrs Terrorist arrived, they could be making their sell at any moment.” Matty’s voice sounded in your ear over coms.

“Do you really think they’d make the trade right here Matty? I don’t exactly see any weapons of mass destruction on hand.” Jack replied, clearly still eating. Mac rolled his eyes.

“That isn’t how these guys work. Our intel says that they have drop sites located near where they make their sales. Diamonds go to them, and if they check out, a key and location go to the buyer. This way if the authorities ever did catch on to where the weapons were, the sellers would be long gone.” Mac explained, offering you his hand for a dance as your targets made their way to the floor.

“it’s smart really, it’s how they’ve avoided being caught for so long. We only got this intel because the CIA got one of their buyers to flip.” You continued, eyes not leaving your targets as you and Mac danced, a little too closely for comfort in the dress you were wearing. The middle of an op was no time to think about your crush on Mac, you scolded yourself as the music changed to a slow dance. Mac’s hands went to your waist, mimicking what the rest of the crowd were doing as yours went to his shoulders. You noted Jack’s pointed glace in your direction as the two of you danced, especially as the couple next to you went in for a kiss, causing Mac’s cheeks to go a little pink and avoid eye contact.

Okay so maybe there’d been a moment on the last op when you’d kissed him to maintain your cover at a night club when you’d snuck into the back room to plant a bug. Maybe. Mac had been a little uncomfortable with you ever since and you weren’t entirely sure what that meant. But as the music continued to play you found yourself being drawn closer and closer to him until your arms were more around his neck than his shoulders. Mac was pulling you closer too, until you were an inch apart. Then the song ended.

He cleared his throat and took a step back, maybe a little too quickly as he noticed Jack grinning behind you both. The sellers finished their dance too, and started heading off the dance floor in the direction of a shorter, balding man who had appeared at the side of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand and what appeared to be a monacle on his face.

“That might be our buyer.” Mac stated and you nodded, signaling to Jack who had already seen where you were looking.

“I’ll see if I can get a bit closer,” Jack said, “Riley, tell me when these camera glasses thingys get a read on Mr Bond Villian over there.” Jack pushed the fake glasses up his nose and wiped his hands on his trousers, moving closer to where a waiter was standing with a tray of champagne.

“Don’t get too close,” Riley said over comms, “we don’t need him getting suspicious, just a little further... yep I got it.” Jack took a sip of his champagne and turned away from the three suspects again. You and Mac approached the tables near where Jack had been standing.

“One of them will probably go for the exit closes the stage, it takes them out down the side of the building towards the kitchen,” you explained.

“Intel says the sellers never stay to the end of the events they attend so my money is on the couple taking that exit,” Bozer replied, “we’ll see them if they do.” Bozer and Riley’s van, designed to look like a meat delivery truck, was positioned just outside the kitchen’s in the staff car park.

“Okay, if they leave, follow them at a distance. Jack, meet up with Riley and Bozer outback once Riley has an ID on our mystery buyer. Mac, Y/N, you’ll take it from there, let’s see exactly what this guy is paying for and make sure it never gets out onto the streets.” Matty ordered just as Riley got a hit on facial rec.

“Okay, this guy is called Horatio, believe it or not, Horatio Delatorre, interpol has him as one of the richest and most dangerous global arms traders; it looks like our local traffickers are expanding their market.” Riley relayed the information and you and Mac shared an uneasy look.

“If we take him down, we take a key player off the board.” Matty said.

“Let’s not lose him then.” Mac said grimly, as a velvet pouches was exchanged between the targets. “Diamonds for the key and location I’d guessing” he noted, “they’re about to be on the move.” Jack was already out the other side door, he’d be rendevousing with the others any second, which was good because the Elmore’s were making their exit stage left and Delatorre was heading back to mingle with the rest of the guests.

“Okay, Jack, Riley, Boze, you’re about to have company. It looks like Delatorre is going to hang around for a little white so we’ll meet back up at the exfil point once we have the weapon and Delatorre in custody.” The Elmore’s were officially out the building and you and Mac were left with the final target.

A few hors d'oeuvres, mindless chit chat and two awkward dances later, and Delatorre was heading for the front exit. You and Mac followed at a safe distance, getting your car from the chauffeur as Delatorre’s and his driver cruised down the street.

Mac hopped in the drivers seat as you climbed into the passengers side, swapping into flats and pulling your gun out of an array of handheld weapons from a draw in an underseat compartment. “Remind me how Bozer got Matty to let him use Phoenix money to recreate a Bond car.” You joked, appreciating the leg slit in your dress as you attached a fully stocked thigh holster. It was only when you noticed Mac clenching his jaw that you realised putting your bare leg up on the dashboard might have been a little much, quickly lowering it as he took a left turn, slowing down and switching off the lights as the buyer pulled into a shipping yard.

“We should go on foot from here,” he said, making you glad you’d brought spare shoes, your feet had not appreciated 6 flights of stairs and a fight with two highly trained mercenaries a few weeks prior, your heels still hadn’t fully recovered.

You and Mac approached cautiously as Delatorre got out, appearing to be counting the containers until he stopped at a battered looking red one with the number 7 on the front. It was a far cry away from the glitz and glam the traffickers were known for, but you guessed that was the point.

Delatorre’s driver was waiting by the car, his gun clearly visible in his hand. You noted another in his belt, but besides him you couldn’t see any other men. You almost thought this was going to be easy when a black SUV’s pulled up, 7 armed men piling out as you and Mac shared an uneasy look; thankfully they had come from the other direction, and hadn’t see your car parked up behind the welcome sign. “I still like our odds,” you offered and Mac smirked, that smile quickly falling, however, when the container open and you saw the weapons inside. “Are they what I think they are?” You whispered. The profanity that came out of Mac’s mouth answering your question for you.

“That, is a lot of thermobaric bombs. If any one of them were to get out, the destruction would be...” Mac didn’t need to finish, you may not have been a science genius like him, but you knew your weaponry.

You looked past the men to the water. “They’re getting them out on a boat,” you guessed.

“Y/N’s right,” Matty cut in, “we have an registered ship approaching the dock, if those weapons make it to sea we could lose them. Hurry.”

“No pressure then,” Mac mumbled. You could see the cogs in his head working away in that way only Mac’s mind did. He looked around and saw a few empty canisters lying on top of what appeared to be pile of scrap metal all to be taken out for the trash.

“Let me guess, one man’s trash-” You started.

“Is another man’s treasure?” Mac grinned at you as he moved. “Always. These gas canisters are mostly empty, but if there’s enough left I should be able to cause a distraction.” He explained.

“Long enough for me to kick some ass?” You presumed and Mac nodded. “I can get behind that plan.”

“This guy’s so good he’s gotten complacent, I doubt he’s expecting anyone to stop him, let alone a beautiful woman in a dress.” Mac said as he worked, seemingly unaware of the actual words he said until he noticed you looking at him, eye brow raised with an amused look on your face. “I mean not that... not that you’re not... I just meant... Ah ha!” Mac was saved by the hiss of the canister, a fact he looked very thankful for. “Okay, when you see the signal go down and do your thing.”

“What’s the signal?” You asked as Mac picked up his device.

“You’ll see.” He said, disappearing around the side of the containers, angling closer to where the men were starting to pack the bombs into trolleys to take to the ship. You rolled your eyes; it was going to be an explosion wasn’t it? Whenever Mac said that it was always followed by a loud... Bang!

The sound of, you guessed it, an explosion sounded to your left, along with a brilliant flash of light that sent the guards scrambling to protect their boss, leaving the right open for you to slip down. By the time you were spotted you were close enough to pull the gun out of his hand, smashing it across his head. He crumbled to the floor as you pulled the ammunition cartridge out the bottom, tossing it aside and rolling around the back of the SUV as shots sounded. Half in your direction, half in the direction Mac was. You pulled out your own gun from your thigh holster and fired back, making sure not to fire too close to the giant container of bombs to your right, or the ones on the trolley near your left. Now that would end badly.

A few went down and the remaining focused their attention on you, closing in on your position. Thankfully, that gave Mac enough time to come up behind them, taking out one, and allowing you to take advantage of the confusion to disarm and incapacitate the last two while Delatorre ran for his car.

“That could have been worse,” you stated, barely even glancing away from Mac as you fired your last bullet at Delatorre, clipping him in the thigh and sending him to the ground inches from the drivers side door of his car. He wasn’t going anywhere. And neither were the bombs. “All in all I’d say-”

Mac’s lips crashing into yours stopped your words, and any coherent thought you had in your head, in their tracks. He pulled away quickly and you blinked at him in shock. “Mac-”

“Sorry,” he cut you off, moving his hand when he realised it was on your waist, “I just had to do that, I’ve been thinking about it since the last op but seeing you kick ass in that dress...” He trailed off and you smiled at the embarassed look on his face, more glad than you’d expected that he hadn’t been awkward with you for the opposite reason. You grabbed him by his tie and pulled him back in for another kiss, but this time it was interuppted by Delatorre groaning and attempting to crawl towards his car.

“Right, terrorist, bombs, mission,” you listed a little breathlessly.

“Continue this later?” Mac offered.

“Definitely.” You winked at him, reloading your gun and getting Matty back on comms, looking to where the ship was now docked, probably full of more hired guns.

Yeah, you were going to need back up, but at least you had something to look forward to later.

#angus macgyver #macgyver #angus macgyver imagine #angus macgyver imagines #macgyver imagine #macgyver imagines #macgyver one shot #angus macgyver one shot #one shot

110 notes · View notes

capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Two Sides of the Coin (4)

Chapter 4: Target Acquired | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

Jidné has finally flew out of Ordo Eris’s orbit, back into the deep black vacuum of space she goes. She was still within the same system as the Haxion Brood’s outpost, although she was closer to the planets neighboring one another. While the Scarab cruises leisurely in space, she tried to tweak the satellite’s range in the hopes that she would pick up the said S-161’s signal—it wasn’t impossible, though it’s very unlikely to get good results out of it.

“It’ll take a miracle for us to find them, ID,”

ID-3 trilled in agreement, although despondently.

She leaned against the pilot’s seat, tapping her fingers in a beat on the cushioned armrests, she tilted her head back. The bounty hunter was running out of ideas, the first suggestion she gave herself was to scour the surrounding planets around Ordo Eris.

Ironically, she looked for answers from within herself.

“Now, if I was a Jedi on the run…” she muttered to herself—a short-lived smirk played along her lips to acknowledge the irony—absentmindedly stroking the dashboard screen as she thought of the possibilities. Her eyes shifted around the cockpit, as if searching for the next words.

“Someplace not densely populated—but that would make one easy to find, less people but more natural camouflage. Densely populated—it’ll be too… people-y outside, but makes you lost in the crowd, hard to spot with a lot of people all around you, but would make a scene if you do get caught.”

She drew her leg up and rung her around her shin. She bowed her head and rubbed her chin, pondering hard on similar theories and assumptions that are likely realistic. It appeared like she’s meditating in her own way.

The hours dragged on as Jidné squeezed her brain for more realistic ideas while the Scarab floated past the planets. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, thinking of more ways to get by—until one came to mind and it was actually the last thing she wanted to do, so she set it aside for the moment.

“Haxion’s out to get Redhead, too,” she recalled the fact that the Brood had their hunters scattered across the planets in search of Cal, even prior to Vader hiring her.

Giving up, she decided if gathering more intel was the best first step in this plan—just so she can piece together what her sources tell her, starting from what Sorc has told her so far, she listed all of the planets where she could get better intel on the top of her mind.

Minutes later after brainstorming by herself, her dexterous fingers danced across the dashboard buttons until a map reflected on the black screen, presenting the holograms of the surrounding planets within her current location.

“Too near Ordo Eris, they wouldn’t want to get close,” presumed Jidné, peering over a green planet with three moons on the hologram; she then turned her attention back to the computer, entering another system’s coordinates. “This one? Not too near, not too far either.”

Her scanning of the current map was cut short when the secondary monitor on her dashboard blinked a huge red circle in the radar. The droid croaked a high-pitched chitter—in droidspeak, it’d be a panicked screech—alarmed by the sudden appearance of big red blip. Quickly, she paid attention to that blip, as it may be a hostile—as she always does. She brought her leg back down, returned her grip on the steering wheel and buckled up in her seat.

“ID, see if you can amplify the scanners and satellites, I wanna take a good look at that ship,” Jidné clearly and sternly commanded, but she wasn’t in full panic mode yet unlike her little, hovering friend.

ID-3 obliged, regardless; from one of his metal pincers, a data port plug connected with the dashboard, he relayed the information from his databank to the screen where Jidné can see. The former Imperial droid gave a full view of the ship, its model and serial name. The pilot’s eyes widened as she read the jumble of characters that is its model name.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned.” She expressed in full disbelief rather than enthusiasm.

It was the Mantis!

She cranked the gears of the Scarab and tailed the target. Her fingers tensed around the wheel.

“ID, get ready to mask the Scarab’s signature when we get in closer range,”

“Trill!”

Apparently, ID didn’t need to do much work in scrambling the Scarab’s signal. The sudden turbulence that she and her droid were experiencing were due to the incoming meteor shower that the two ships are bringing themselves in are doing that for them.

“That is one crazy pilot,” Jidné quipped after witnessing the Mantis zip through the barrage of nearly-molten rocks shooting in their direction like cannon fire.

The Mantis and Scarab were complete contrasts to one another in terms of shape and size. The Mantis was narrow and thin like a needle, while the Scarab was curvy and wide—but when maneuvered vertically, it can pass through the gap of a trench. In this case, both ships were doing their own evasive maneuvers to survive the hailstorm of rocks.

A few smaller rocks have scraped and dented the exterior of the Scarab, but the gravitational pull of the phenomenon caused the ship to rumble so much that it’s starting to make Jidné nauseous. All of the debris that passed by scorched the exterior of the freighter, leaving loud bangs against the metal as they fleeted away.

“This certainly isn’t how I planned my day to go!”

She swept through the meteors and gained on the Mantis, with the Scarab masked—amplified by the shower interfering with the clarity of signals—the other ship didn’t exactly put all of their attention to her, but she sensed that they got the hint. She pushed the pedal to the metal in order to get at least neck-and-neck with her target, she flicked the clear glass cover of a red switch atop the shaft of her steering wheel.

Due to the rocks that literally scrape by the sides of the Scarab, constantly making the vessel quake, Jidné’s thumbs always strayed away from the button.

“I’ll never get a clean shot at them!”

Her eyesight narrowed, she sets the targeting device dead-set on the Mantis. The grid swerved as it followed the Mantis real-time, Jidné glanced at the targeting monitor every once in a while as she tries to accelerate to a greater speed.

“Almost there,” she rasped.

Her thumb hovered over the red button, impatient and eager to punch it, Jidné insisted to close a few more miles between the Scarab and the Mantis before she could fire the shots.

“There!”

A single shot darted out of the barrel—the bullet was a homing beacon not bigger than a land mine—and adhered to the exterior of the Mantis.

Good, they’ll never seen me coming. She thought triumphantly.

She flicked back the glass cover down and pressed a series of buttons on her dashboard. A small circular screen on the dashboard glowed blue in the corner of Jidné’s eye.

“We got them on our trail, ID!” she celebrated, smirking as she slowed down, withdrew from the dogfight and watched the Mantis weakly swerve as it tried to hold itself together while trying to get through the meteor shower.

Meanwhile, Jidné also tried to find her way out of this infernal shower of rocks. As much as she wanted to keep an eye on her target, she had to put her faith on the homing beacon—hoping that it doesn’t get cooked if they ever crash land into that beige planet.

She pulled the ship up, gaining altitude and placing her freighter above the meteor shower’s path. She detours from the planet floating right in front of her and ID-3 to give the Scarab a rest. The bounty hunter peered at the monitors again, but mostly focusing on the screen that shows the diagnostics of the ship’s internals.

“Integrity at 85%, I think we can stabilize that when we land,”

“Be-beep, chitter?”

“ID, see if you can analyze that planet they’re crash-landing into. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before,”

The ID seeker droid happily obliged this time, linking the arm with a built-in data port connector. Fishing from his databanks, he relayed the information to Jidné’s screen.

“Thanks, ID—knew I could count on you always!” she beamed, and then read the data that ID encoded on the monitor. “Ombari, huh? Well, I hope Redhead wished upon a star that I wouldn’t find him when we get there.”

“Chitter, trill!”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s worth a shot too,” Jidné snickered.

She set the acceleration to a high, passing Ombari’s asteroid-ridden ring and finally prepared herself to cut through the atmosphere before she could lose sight of her redheaded target.

Ombari was a tropical landmass. On one side, deltas and rivers sustained the lush jungles until the water stretched thin and ran dry beyond it, creating the desert badlands where the greenery is sparse but the villainy dense. Jidné was no stranger to such setting—she practically spent her second childhood in a similar environment.

Jidné wanted to keep her profile low as well, so she docked the Scarab in the deeper part of the jungle—she’d be in the border between the rich jungles, civilization, and the badlands. Finding the Mantis in space was easier said than done, however, finding the passenger of the Mantis was basically finding the hay in a needle stack.

“Come on, ID,” she beckoned as she marched through the narrow hall of the freighter, she headed to the compartment where she kept her weapon.

The narrow door hissed open, revealing her customized electropike-rifle hybrid leaning against the door. Jidné took it out of the compartment and studied the matte finish of the handle, some parts already have its paint job chipping due to time and usage; she weighed it on her arms and made a shooting position to get a feel of it again. She slid her hand up to the mandibles at the very end of the weapon, examining the conduits where the electric charge will run.

“Still mint, aren’t ya?” Jidné cooed and then slung the weapon’s strap against her chest.

She patted the holster on her hip one more time, reassuring herself that the saber is still safe and sound inside the leather pouch. By rote, ID hovered close to his owner, folded all of his tentacles and tucked it close to its disc-like body before latching onto the body harness that Jidné wears.

To conceal her droid and save herself the trouble of being accused of stealing Imperial property—which ID-3 obviously isn’t anymore—she donned a light tan cowl that wrapped around her shoulders, covering most of her jacket’s top portion. She asks if ID-3 is ready to go, to which the little dark droid responded with a low-volume chitter, and the duo leave the Scarab in search of their redheaded target.

18 notes · View notes

fallenfurther · 4 years

Text

Maintenance man

Post Series 1 Episode 11: Skyhook. This rescue did a lot of damage to two of the Thunderbirds, with Virgil having to be flown home in a limping Thunderbird Two. At least his brothers are willing to come to his rescue. Enjoy!

**********

Brains deflated as he looked at the readings on his monitor. He loved the Tracy boys and maintaining the machines he’d designed was still one of his favourite things to do, but he was only one man. There was some serious electrical damage to Thunderbird Two, Thunderbird One’s engine needed to be checked over just in case the sprites or low oxygen levels had damaged the metal, and then there was the inevitable damage Thunderbird Five had taken. Thunderbird Two would have to be done first as it required most frequently. Brains was always a little on edge when Thunderbird Two was out of action, jumping at every emergency call and hoping the specialised equipment only Two could carry wasn’t needed. Thunderbird One wasn’t the highest priority as he knew there was likely to be very little, if any, damage, but Scott seemed to push her limits more often than Brains liked. A quick check, hopefully before the next rescue, would just settle Brains’ nerves and let him sleep peacefully. Thunderbird Five was the one that worried Brains the most. Although not required directly for rescues, it contained and sustained John Tracy. Space was a dangerous place and John had just pushed the space station beyond her intended purpose. There could be so much unseen and subtle damage that only a good inspection would pick up. He would send a request to Scott to call John down for safety reasons, though they might have to send Alan up to retrieve him. Brains’ didn’t want to risk the space elevator until he had thoroughly checked it. Today it had been tested beyond its design and unlike Langstom Fischler, he cared for safety.

Pulling up the Thunderbirds flight plans and locations, Brains noted both were on their way home. Scott had managed to catch up and overtake Virgil and was due to get home much sooner. With Thunderbird Two’s front landing struts down and all controls being directed through the helipod, there was no way to get the rear two down. Thunderbird Two couldn’t land without snapping the struts. Brains could tell that Gordon was struggling to fly Two with the Pods controls, the erratic path the craft was taking being all the evidence Brains needed, but that also meant it would be even harder for him to land. Wracking his brain, a solution came to mind. Pulling up the island's controls, he set the automated trolley to pull the modules out of storage so that Module Two was in the centre of the vast cavern. A tap on his comm and Scott was floating before him.

“I’m almost home, Brains.”

“I know. I need you to meet Alan at Module Two when you land. Gordon is in need of s-some assistance.”

“FAB.”

A quick motion with his hand, as the low rumble of the swimming pool retracting filled the room, and Scott was replaced with Alan.

“Alan. I need you to head down to Module Two and prepare two elevator cars.”

“FAB Brains.”

Alan vanished in a flurry of movement and Brains moved to focus on some calculations before relaying the plans to Gordon, and subsequently Virgil, who was currently trapped in the cockpit.

****

Scott jogged up to Module Two and headed inside. Alan waved happily from the seat of an elevator car and it didn’t take much thought to know the second one was for him. Alan’s grin contained a hint of mischief, setting off some brotherly alarm bells. Looking up at his car, he shook his head before climbing in. Of course Alan would be in the Master car! Once settled, a glance at his still grinning brother caused a smile to cross his own face. He wouldn’t begrudge Alan his moment today. Scott revved the engine, letting Alan take the lead as they headed out to the runway. It appeared that Alan was following the same instructions as he was, and drove the pod to the coordinates displayed on the dashboard. Here they waited, though Scott made a quick call to the GDF to give them a heads up about the report he was going to be submitting, including a complaint against Fischler Industries. He’d been happy to hear that they were already in the process of revoking his space operations permit. The sound of Thunderbird Two approaching caused Scott to end the call and turn his eyes to the sky.

Thunderbird Two came into view, her movements looking more like that of a pod that a thunderbird. Sudden worry for his brothers rose from his stomach. He hadn’t realised how badly affected Two had been. He knew that Gordon was flying her from the helipod, making her virtually useless in a rescue setting, but he hadn’t realised how hard it would be to keep her straight. The fact that they had made it home was a relief. It also explained Brains’ plan. The elevator cars were going to become her new landing struts, just as they had tried to do for the Fireflash. At least this time Gordon could come in slowly, though it would still take some teamwork to land Thunderbird Two. Brians and Gordon both popped up before him, though surprisingly it was Brains who spoke first.

"Okay, I'm going to instruct Gordon down. Scott, Alan, you two need to be ready to move, but keep the cars in a low gear."

"FAB." Scott replied, noting Alan had spoken the same phrase a second behind him.

"Okay, guys, this is not going to be the most graceful landing. You better do your best to not scratch her though, Virgil with a broken Two is bad enough."

"Let me worry about Virgil, you just concentrate on not snapping those struts."

Gordon gave Scott a grateful nod, before Brains took over, directing everyone. Gordon got a little frustrated towards the end but he visually deflated once Thunderbird Two was safely down. Scott had been required to move forward a little along with Alan, and the bounce and whump of Thunderbird Two hitting them had been a little unnerving, but the cars held and all was okay. Putting his car into park, he climbed out and waited for Virgil to manually override the underside hatch. A rather relieved Virgil stood on the runway before turning to look at the green behemoth above them with a sigh.

"It's not that bad, Virgil." Gordon cheered, obviously not worried about retaliation. "It's nothing you and Brains can't fix. At least you don't have Fischler on board!"

They had all heard John's request for rescue, and now Thunderbird Two was safely grounded, they could spare Alan for a quick pick up.

"Alan, think you could go retrieve Fischler and his crew from Thunderbird 5?"

"Sure Scott!" The excited teenager chimed before running towards Thunderbird There's silo. His younger brother's enthusiasm brought a much needed smile to his face.

"Come on, Virgil." Scott placed a hand on the man's shoulder, "Let's get changes and grab some food before you tackle her. Let Brains do a diagnostic first."

"Fine." Virgil nodded, allowing Scott to drag him away, though Scott knew he'd be back as soon as he could. Virgil hated it when International Rescue wasn't ready to launch. It made them all edgy, more so when their Thunderbird was the reason for it.

*****

Brains had packed all the supplies needed into Thunderbird Three. There were a few things that needed replacing, including some of the toughened outer glass. EOS's scans had confirmed Thunderbird Five required a few large repairs alongside some smaller ones John could do. Unfortunately, she found that the satellite's operations were unaffected and thus John stayed in orbit. Brains would have preferred to take Thunderbird Five out of operation temporarily but had to suffice with a later maintenance trip. It'd taken a few days to source the required parts, but Thunderbird Two and One kept him busy. Thunderbird Two had taken just thirty two hours to get ready for launch. There had been so many different aspects to check but with Virgil's constant help they had powered through it. Thunderbird One had taken under a day, and Brains only changed a few components which were due to be replaced in the coming months, saving him a future job.

Now he was to take Thunderbird Five out of action for at least a day, and John was reluctant. Scott had put his foot down on the matter, but that wouldn't stop John from getting annoyed and grumpy if the work overran. Brains' seat clicked into place in Thunderbird Three and Alan started going through the launch sequence. It'd been a while since Brains' had been in space, much preferring to stay on the ground, particularly the island he now called home. Unfortunately, needs must and no one knew Thunderbird Five quite like its designer. He swallowed as the rumble beneath them began and soon he was in orbit. It had definitely been a while since he'd been in space, gagging and swallowing as space sickness took hold of his stomach. Every time. Every time he had to readjust. Alan continued on as if nothing had changed, guiding the ship towards International Rescue's satellite. Once docked, John welcomed them in, EOS following and watching his every move. EOS was incredible, but there was still something about her that set Brains on edge. He'd spoken to her before and knew she was using the camera to view the world, but in person it was unnerving.

"Right, one of the outer screens needs replacing. Let's get in with that first as Grandma is available and it means we can be operational again sooner. EOS, I've backed you up, but you'll be offline when Thunderbird Five is powered down."

"Thank you, John. I shall see you once the repairs are complete. I will start the shutdown protocol once you are aboard Thunderbird Three."

"Thank you, EOS. Sleep tight."

"I do not require sleep, John. I shall simply be powered down."

"It's a turn of phrase, EOS."

Brains watched as John shook his head before pulling on his helmet. The interaction between man and AI was not like anything he had been expecting. Pushing himself back through the airlock, Brains couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive about leaving the shutdown to the AI.

*****

Brains' collapsed onto the sofa in his apartment with MAX watching his movements eagerly. He was tired, and the four days in space had been enough. They'd managed to get Thunderbird Five fully operational, apart from the space elevator, in a day and a half. Alan's help in passing tools and his ease of movement in zero-G helped immensely, allowing for a shorter down time. Living with EOS for the next two days had been an eye opener. Brains had been glad that she didn't end up following him around as he'd feared she would. She settled down and even helped him out a few times as he set about dismantling and repairing the elevator. Its bearings had taken a beating and although functional, Brains could not guarantee their reliability or function anymore. Fresh parts were given to the mechanism, a good layer of grease was applied and every inch of the cable was inspected and scanned for tears or breaks. To Brains' delight the cable was in perfect condition as the moving parts had taken the brunt on the force when retrieving the weather station. After a few test deployments, including sending down the broken and spare parts he hadn't needed, Brains was the first test subject. As expected, the ride was smooth and uneventful, just the way he liked it. Pleased with his work and happy all the Thunderbirds were in working order, he'd headed to his apartment for some much needed rest. His body was still adjusting to gravity, even a few days in space messed him up, but he was glad to be back Earthside with MAX again.

"We'll get started on that new project tomorrow, MAX."

Brains got familiar bleeps back as a response and a smile crossed his face. A glass of water floated before him and he took it.

"Thank you, MAX."

Taking a sip his comm bleeped and Gordon floated before him. The man was in his uniform and was scratching his head in a manner that sent worry through Brains.

"Uurgh...Brains. I think something has gone wrong with Thunderbird Four. You would mind having a look when I get back?"

"Of course, Gordon. W-what's your ETA?"

"Ten minutes, and thanks Brains, you're a lifesaver."

Brains turned to MAX, then back to the glass in his hand. So much for an early night. He drained the glass and headed to his lab, MAX on his heels. He might as well check the readings and get a head start on trying to fix whatever problem Gordon had found.

#thunderbirds are go #TAGrewatch #Brains #John Tracy #alan tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #rescue #fix them up #maintenance #Brains will fix it!

9 notes · View notes

megatronswaifu · 5 years

Note

Nightlight defected from the Bots?! I must know MORE! :0

yes she did!!! it’s a long story BUT I’M SO HAPPY U WANNA KNOW MORE so i will try to do my best to relay it briefly…my writing is very abridged but it still does the job. this is the TFP version of her defection.

basically, nightlight came to earth on a stolen ship with her friends (other ocs who i haven’t really finalized – here are some doodles i did around a year ago), seiner, wheelhop (used to be named “popcorn” as a placeholder), and phase (used to be named rook before somebody pointed out that there’s already somebody named that). a gang of girls!

they are all a very silly and flawed bunch but they get along.

nightlight does not often go on missions because she is a scaredy cat and honestly isn’t very skilled at fighting, and she kind of just stays back. if she does go on missions, she usually ends up getting protected or rescued, so she tries to help in other ways.

one day, the gang of girls decides to go out on a stroll in an uninhabited (by humans) place on earth since they felt cooped up in the autobot base. there is literally no reason for cons to be around so they just decide to have fun.

sadly and very annoyingly, decepticons DO appear and they have to sprint their fucking afts off running and shooting back and hiding, until they can finally sit still enough for the biggest bot, seiner, to comm ratchet,

“ratchet!! ratchet we need a ground bridge! the decepticons found us!”

(rest of story and another doodle under cut)

ratchet pulls up a groundbridge and informs them that the bridge is on the right, on the other side of the mountain they’re currently hiding behind. they make a break for it, and sprint to the bridge. they hop right through, and to their horror and surprise, the room they hop into is purple. it’s dark. it’s got decepticons.

the ground bridge behind them closes, and the girls scatter around and run out the door. they get chased and are forced to run about what is presumably The Nemesis. they finally find a room in which nobody has followed them into or figured out they’re hiding in.

the girls begin to talk.

wheelhop: “WHAT THE SHIT WAS THAT I THOUGHT RATCHET GOT US A GROUND BRIDGE????”

seiner: “well uhh fuck obviously we didn’t go through it, what went wrong?”

phase (in cybertronian sign language, she is mute): “maybe we went through the wrong one.”

wheelhop: “you mean there was a decepticon bridge open at the same time?”

phase nods.

seiner (looking over at phase, with a considering expression): “seems like it.”

nightlight: “but, but ratchet said it was on the right…right?”

…on the “other right” of the mountain, a completely separate ground bridge sits. on that bridge’s other side, ratchet attempts to comm them, to no avail. the girls have accidentally run through another ground bridge that the decepticons were using to mobilize their own forces into the area, and had completely missed their own ground bridge because they went to the wrong “right”. they must come up with a plan to escape. seiner, being a leader-type, looks around the room. it looks like they found themselves in an unused monitor room.

seiner eyes one wall of monitors and says, “we might be able to access some sort of map from this computer. we can find our way out that way.”

nightlight: “we can’t call someone for help?”

phase: “decepticon technology blocks our signals.” she has stood up and is at the monitor, but she hesitates. phase turns to the group.

“if we access this computer, we will most likely notify the cons that we are in this room,” she signs. “as soon as i turn this monitor on, we are on a timetable. the nanosecond i get the map, we must go.”

all of them, very tense, sit in anticipation as phase accesses the monitor. lo and behold, the decepticons are notified, and a team of vehicons rushes towards the abandoned section of the ship. however, when they arrive, the door is open, and the girls have escaped the room.

meanwhile, in the airducts of the nemesis, the four of them crawl, squished, with a map of the ducts on phase’s arm-minimonitor. they traverse the map, having found a suitable way out, for several hours, trying not to get spotted, waiting for the longest periods of time for vehicons to leave areas so they can pass, and being incredibly stressed.

at one point, they must cross from a room and into a hallway to get to their last path. the hallway isn’t very populated, and only at the far end are some vehicons stationed, where nobody will see them, so although obviously very tense, they are not as afraid as they have been a few other times on this “adventure”.

first, phase, the navigator, and an expert at agility, jumps quietly out of the duct, into the room, and opens the door to the hallway. she peeks out. there is no-one. she swiftly emerges from the door and sprints to the other side, opening the other door on the opposite side they must enter.

second, wheelhop follows, a terrified but determined look on her face.

third, seiner, the big bot she is, tries her best to run across quietly.

fourth, nightlight crouches down outside the threshold of the door, propping her foot in a “ready, set, go” position, getting up the courage to run to the other side. her expression is nervous and she is shaking.

just as she is about to hop up, the voices of the vehicons down the hall they had previously not given a care to suddenly stop dead. nightlight’s helm shoots towards their position, to see soundwave, the decepticon third in command, walking down the hallway.

her helm whips again back to her friends, on the other side of the hallway, who all have their mouths open and optics wide as dinner plates. after taking a few seconds to be terrified, they all motion frantically for their friend to run to the other side as quickly as possible. but nightlight hesitates, and shakes her head frantically back. soundwave is too close! she’ll be seen! she doesn’t want to go. nightlight, with fluid pricking her optics, attempts to re-open the door they came from, but it seems it locked when she exited. she takes another look at her friends, and scared out of her spark, she curls into a ball, her helm between her legs, her arms around her kneejoints. if she stays small, he won’t see. if she stays in the crook between the door and the wall, she’ll be okay. he won’t see.

nightlight watches from between her legs as her friends sink into the room, and the third in command approaches from down the hallway, his shadow dangerously puddling closer. it passes over the floor and between her legs, and so do his pedesteps. nightlight, assuming her hiding technique has worked, lifts her helm. she is greeted with soundwave’s expressionless, petrifying helm, and one of the spymaster’s tentacles grappling her arm and yanking her harshly into the air. she shrieks, and is wordlessly taken off to some random place in the nemesis. as she is dragged off, she yelps and cries the names of her teammates in fear, but she cannot see them any longer.

wheelhop, seiner, and phase sit deathly silent in the vent they were forced to escape into. they eventually discuss; they are almost out. finding nightlight would take hours, possibly days if they were going to check literally the entire ship, because they had no clue where the interrogation rooms were (nothing much was labelled on the map). and they weren’t even sure she would be there. they could be killed, or worse, interrogated for information and then killed. it would be better to return to base and come back with a bigger rescue team. they were exhausted. after much deliberation, and despite it basically emotionally killing them do make this decision, they decide to continue on their path and escape the ship, without nightlight.

meanwhile, nightlight shivers in an interrogation room with knock out overlooking her, doing something on the monitor next to the table. she is not strapped to the table, as she is too small to reach the straps, so she is simply cuffed to one of said straps, with additional cuffs on her ankles and wrists. nightlight holds back desperately on tears. surely she will be tortured.

the little moped waits for something to happen. she expects to be killed or interrogated. there’s a bunch of surgical instruments (or, other things, nightlight can’t really tell what they are if she’s honest) on a table a few meters away and she’s about to cry. knock out is scary as the pits. she is helpless. suddenly, the cherry-red doctor is talking to someone on his comm.

and the door fucking opens. and megatron walks in.

and all her sense of decorum and self-regulation and “i should be a good bot and stay still” is thrown out the window in an instant, and she tries to jump up from the table, wailing and sure of her demise. she is going to die or be tortured and THEN die, and now, by the hands of megatron at that? she is faced with an autobot’s worst and scariest nightmare. why her?!

knock out has to yoink her back and hold one of her legs to the table, and really she’s not strong compared to him so it doesn’t take much effort. she is very small on main so you can understandably imagine how scary this looks like to the poor thing: a gigantic shadowy figure that frankly just looks like a dark tower, with searing red eyes, radiating with millennia of hatred for her kind, moving towards her. this is made even worse when she realizes the tower has walked very close, closer when she had last peeked through her servos, and is now reaching for her. she hyperventilates and cries out and kicks (or really, attempts to) when two humongous servos grab her legs, and all the minicon can do is babble pleas.

to her surprise she feels the stasis cuffs unlock on her ankles and wrists, and she is slowly let go of to scramble away and curl up on the table, taking a second to sooth herself. nightlight eventually sneaks a look from behind her fingers to see megatron just standing there with a patient expression.

weirdly, knock out next to him with a “?????????what” look, completely baffled as to why megatron just uncuffed a prisoner. it seems he did not expect this either.

and megatron puts on his best Do Not Worry I Am Very Friendly face and says, “hello nightlight”. nightlight doesn’t respond, but still glances at him with a look of profound confusion.

and megatron sweet talks her for a while. asking her questions, talking as nicely as he can. and even though, to any sane bot viewing the scene, one would see megatron’s clear intentions of evil, our poor nightlight is immune to social cues. so, she’s thinking, “what’s happening?“ and all of this is…a lot.

eventually, megatron says, “nightlight, i’d like you to join our side.” the periwinkle bot thinks, “well this isn’t torture or death, but….” and megatron can tell she’s baffled, so he keeps talking.

“your friends left you,” he says firmly. nightlight’s face sours pitifully, and megatron continues, “they’ve already left the ship. i’m sure you heard the overhead comm announce we were no longer on lockdown.”

nightlight looks away, feelings clearly hurt, and he continues still, “they didn’t stay to rescue you. they escaped without even an attempt to come for you. they don’t see you as a valuable part of their team.”

and this very much hurts nightlight. this is exactly what she worries about, in her endeavors as a friend and as an autobot; that she is not a good and contributing team member. is she really that small, that bad at fighting, that dumb? megatron continues by saying, “but the decepticon army has a place for you.” she looks up for a second in hope, but not any longer, and megatron can tell she is very conflicted, so he changes the subject.

(and ok side note i have this idea that before tfp megatron went gladiator he was a miner. and he was marx on main in the mines and had already developed kind of a following, and the governmence was like

“oh god oh fuck we can’t kill him he’s got too big of a following he might be seen as a martyr if WE kill him”

“well alright then government man #1 how about we put him in the gladiatorial pits. then we won’t be the ones to kill him. he’ll be taken care of and we won’t be blamed for it”

“very sexy idea government man #2!”

and they did it but megatron was tough as shit in the end and y’all all know what happened)

but anyways,megatron leans in closer as if sharing some sort of nice, secret moment with her, “i know you used to work in the mines, nightlight.” and this is true. nightlight used to work as an autonomous flashlight to give easier lighting to miners and contractors and such, in her life back on cybertron. “o-oh yeah i did that…” she replies sheepishly.

megatron: “did you know i used to work in the mines too?”

and nightlight immediately forgets she’s sitting in front of the warlord who obliterated most of their race, who destroyed their planet, and is responsible for the death of many of her friends and comrades, “you did?!” she perks up and moves slightly closer, naturally friendly. the fact that megatron was a miner is kind of common knowledge, but nightlight doesn’t know shit fuck about cybertron’s history or important figures and she just thought megatron was a gladiator before this and that’s it.

nightlight hasn’t met another ex-miner for a while and she’s visibly excited. most of the other autobots, including her teammates, had other occupations on cybertron, and sometimes she found it hard to relate in certain situations. megatron and nightlight chat nicely for a while, but eventually megatron says something maybe a little too violent that reminds her “ah…i am talking to THE megatron”.

the moped looks down. the warlord questions her expression. “um. well. y'know,” she fidgets, “you guys…i can’t join the decepticons. you guys kinda…you guys do…bad things. sometimes. a lot of bad things.” she is not unsure of this fact, but she does not want the confrontation, so she lightens her choice of words as best she can. megatron leans down again, soft-yelling at her in his typical overly-intense way, “you don’t think the autobots have committed JUST as many grievances as us?”

and the answer is obviously NO, they have NOT committed as many war crimes as you, but nightlight falls for his manipulation and backs off, looking guilty. she’s so awfully gullible. and megatron happily grabs onto this fact and runs with it, naming off bad shit that the autobots have (allegedly) done, and nightlight is successfully freaked out.

the gigantic mech sees he’s scared her and can tell he’s convinced her, so he leans back and ends the interaction, “i’ll give you some time to think, nightlight. we will talk later. tell me your decision then.” and with that, placing his servo once on the table as if to say goodbye like a friend but not quite touch her personal bubble, he walks out. and poor nightlight is left to think, alone, about what she is supposed to do.

megatron exits out of the doors and starscream is there, and they walk off all evil-like and start talking.

starscream begins their conversation,“well how did it go?”

megatron: “swimmingly.”

starscream: “is she convinced?”

megatron, especially evilly, grinning that nasty shark-smile: “i have left her no other option.”

and DUN DUN DUNNNN it’s somehow revealed that starscream and megatron decided to form a plan to lower autobot morale by stealing away nightlight to become a decepticon. they didn’t come up with it before this, it was impromptu when they got the alert that the girls had entered the ship. not many people defect over, and nightlight, from what they have seen, is a dumbass and is very convincible, so she was the perfect target. her friends, who were admirable fighters and were admittedly putting a dent in their forces, would be especially broken by their friend leaving them for the decepticons, moreso than if they had just killed her. so, they decided to convince her to defect so their morale goes to shit. how satisfying would it be for nightlight not to look at her friends in longing and love, but disdain and hatred when they next meet? she is weak, so if the plan doesn’t work out like they’d hoped, they can just kill her.

eventually, of course, whether she is fully aware she had no other choice or not, she says yes, and she gets her new paint job, her new symbol, her new optic color, and is successfully brainwashed. megatron and co continue their skilled manipulation, and nightlight is forced to make a new life as a decepticon, without her friends. yippee!!

anyways, if you made it here, here’s a little doodle. it’s the differences between her autobot and decepticon look! sorry it’s messy.

thank you for viewing.

EDIT: popcorn is now named “wheelhop”! so i changed all instances of her name.

EDIT2: same with rook phase!

#tf oc #tfp #nightlight #tfp nightlight #seiner #phase #wheelhop #tfp seiner #tfp phase #tfp wheelhop #maccadam #sunnyd #megatron #tfp megatron #this includes some other characters too but i feel like i'm spamming if i tag all of them...#they aren't that prevalent in the story so i'll leave it be.#frenchhouseaddict

71 notes · View notes

my-writings-and-musings · 4 years

Note

Hello there, I really liked your writing and especially the prompt with enemy forces attack and lack of oxygen! May I ask you to write it with Perceptor and Drift? (Separately, just in case). Thank you in advance!)

Got a ninja boy and a science boy here for you anon!

Got some links to the previous posts for this prompt!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: You're Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight! Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Perceptor

·Your arrival on the ship required him to work with the medics to ensure you could survive on it, and that obviously included working with you quite frequently to gather data, which eventually evolved into you assisting directly as the upgrades were put into place. Though he was initially hesitant to admit your presence was nice and he briefly stalled on finishing the upgrades just to spend more time together, you wore him down enough that he eventually relented and confessed to wanting you around. In the short time since things have come very far, enough so that he freely requests your aid in projects, chatting idly as he makes use of your tiny size and encouraging demeanor.

·This is exactly what you're up to today, though you're in the shooting range as opposed to your usual set up in the lab. While he's more than confident in his ability to handle this experimental weapon, he needs it here for when it's finally tested, and your small hands are ideal for a final stability check. A barely observable feeling in his spark registers as excited pride for you to see the weapon in action, but he keeps that to himself... It's bad enough someone walked in on the two of you holding hands as much as your differing sizes allowed the other day, and he doesn't need any more embarrassment.

·There's still a tiny smile on his face as he takes the first few shots, and the accuracy combined with the little cheer from you makes it impossible to keep it from growing. He's about to remark that this is only the first trial of the adjustable blaster, and thus not inductive of its real potential, when he's interrupted by a garbled communication. As you watch him answer, it's hard to hold back reasurance at the hint of frustration on his face, because you know him well enough to understand he doesn't appreciate the disturbance while trying to show off to you. Perhaps one day you'd let him know how easy he was for you to read.

·Well accustomed to frantic requests for his assistance, Perceptor finds himself unexpectedly surprised when the transmission is nearly inaudible, and the message from the bridge proves to be nothing more than a few broken sentences mentioning crashes and security systems before going dead. Not certain what could possibly be causing the ship he personally inspects to suffer malfunctions but knowing it must be corrected, he immediately plans to set off and get to the bottom of things. Securing the weapon into its holster on his back, he offers his hand to transport you with him, surmising you'll be safest with him at least until they have a better idea of what's going on. Of course he already has some theories, but he never acts without evidence.

·Glad to come along, even if only to help him run through some ideas, you happily take your place in his palm. Being without a vehicular mode means he pretty much had to get accustomed to carrying you everywhere he wanted to take you, as it takes quite a few steps for you to match one of his. Now he rather likes being able to hold you in a way that enables easy conversation, especially because as he walks and looks down to you in his palm and you look up at him with those genuinely fascinated eyes... It's nice. Currently he's listing the usual suspects for spacefaring trouble; solar flares, electric storms, debris collisions, and how none of them seem the likely culprit here for various reasons. You've seen him enter this state of unparalleled focus many times, and can't help but wish the circumstances could be better, because you love seeing him in his element.

·Both of you have a rather unfortunate awakening when a series of tremors pass through the ship and nearly knock him to the floor, something he prevents with quick reflexes that momentarily turn your world dark, a phenomenon you realize in an instant was caused by both of his hands cupping protectively around you. When they part you're left peaking upwards through digits at a somewhat concerned and bashful bot. Affirming you're alright, you watch as he gets moving again in an instant, now in full crisis mode after your little tumble. You know enough to be equally concerned by this turn of events, particularly because spaceships aren't known for their tremors.

·Talking as he walks, he has every one of his sharp senses on full alert for the trouble he knows will be coming, including his sense of touch to keep tabs on your small body in his hands. Being aware of every single potential problem means he knows quite well you could be in danger already. It worries him, to a level of concern he's not accustomed to feeling after experiencing so much combat. You can see the anxiety he's trying so hard to work through. There's a crackle in his spark that bots only have when very on edge, and you're close enough to hear it through his armored chest, spurring you to reach out and lay a hand against the warm metal. For a moment his optics meet your eyes, and at your reassuring smile he seems to regain some measure of calm control. His mind quickly uses that to put together a plan.

·While that tremor very likely came from an anchoring weapon on an enemy vessel, none of that explains the system shutdowns precluding it, and he needs to know the full extent of the threat before he can launch a counterattack. Most bots would need a well established access point to get diagnostics for the whole ship, but thankfully he's a bit more skilled than that. Explaining that he merely needs a workstation with any kind of physical connection to the main network, he begins what he is certain will be a quick search, and while you're delighted by the boost he obviously feels thanks to feeling in control you're a bit too tired to celebrate. Not wanting him to know the stress of the situation is wearing you down, your smile remains steadfast to give him the strength he needs.

·As he predicted, finding something suitable for his needs is a breeze, and he's so distracted by the impending answers he doesn't notice you growing drowsy in his palms. Though the small room is little more than a relay station for routine power inspection, it's perfect for what he has planned, and he places you on a nearby table as he gets to work. Even if your head were clear the flurry of activity he follows with wouldn't make sense. Somehow a motley collection of dust covered components becomes rewired into a humming piece of... something in what feels like minutes, and you absolutely beam with pride to see your partner pulling up the information he needs on a monitor, heavy eyelids lifted by your desire to watch him work more wonders.

·Data starts flowing through his makeshift diagnostic scanner in moments, and Perceptor watches intently as the ship's systems flash their readouts in order, though even he can't keep his expression calm as he all too rapidly puts together the horrifying pieces. They haven't just been boarded; they've been sabotaged. Most of the damage is meant to neuter their defenses and hinder any attempt at an organized counterattack, but one key readout tells him that you in particular are in the most dire need of assistance. The atmospheric generators and oxygen stabilizers he personally optimized for your benefit are going haywire, and the air you need to survive is rapidly being drained from the ship. The sheer size of the vessel, and the ability of its crew to keep the attackers at bay for this long, is the only reason you're still alive. In an instant he's on the move.

·You're cupped in oversized palms just as you realize you were laying down for a nap you didn't know had snuck up on you. Bleary in your head as well as your eyes, you hear him speak in the flat, rapid manner that he only uses when something critical is on the line. While his inflection is clear enough for you to catch his basic meaning, for the life of you it's just not possible to panic as much as you should, and his explanation of a plan doesn't register in the slightest. You know it should, and you feel awful for being so calm while he needs you, but the strength for you to be what he needs just isn't there. There is enough clarity for you to register one thing though, namely how closely he's cradling you to his chest. Such an open display of caring and concern is usually not something you see from him. A part of you rather likes it.

·Cold fear that he's come quite unaccustomed to creeps through him as he takes off through the ship. The medical bay is his ideal destination, as he helped create the human catered medical equipment already there, but he knows that time being of the essence means he has to plan for every possible situation, including those far from ideal. What matters is getting you oxygen, fast. The data on human biology made it impossibly clear; every minute without adequate oxygen is critical. Horrifying possibilities run through his mind, the diagrams of cell death he memorized almost taunting him as you appear to grow weaker with every passing breath. Feelings he'd long since forgotten, powerlessness and grief, eat away at him as he internally bemoans his lack of an altmode.

·You feel incredibly guilty as he grows more panicked, but sleep beckons far too strongly for you to resist it long. There's a part of you that knows his incredibly brilliant mind struggles when he doesn't feel in control, to the point he breaks reality at times to regain that handle on the world around him. So seeing you like this and being unable to do much in the moment... no doubt it's tearing him apart. Words don't come easy at the moment, and in fact you realize there's no way to form them at all, but still you try to reassure him. There's so much panic in the spark he holds you beside, and you do everything you can to convey that none of this is his fault. Gently splaying your fingers over the warm metal, you feel the world around you become little more than a blur.

·For a moment the path before him is filled with enemies. He nearly barrels into them rounding a corner, but not a moment is wasted once he has a full count of their number. One hand cradling you protectively, his other grabs the weapon he'd been testing with you before, and the still recovering alien soldiers become nothing more than an impromptu accuracy test. Even for him the precise carnage that follows is unimaginable. A series of heads jerk backwards before hulking bodies go limp, and in mere moments the threat is little more than a pile of confused looking corpses, but there's no time to celebrate. He's off with the weapon in hand for any future attacks.

·You hear him speaking to you as the last vestiges of your strength finally give way. He's trying to sound calm as he urges you to retain consciousness, but for once it's a losing effort, as you can hear the crack in his performance. It makes you sadder than anything else thus far. Particularly because you simply can't stay awake a moment longer. There's just too much weight in your limbs, and the warm darkness promises you a break, so you simply have to give in. All you can hope is that he'll understand neither one of you is to blame, and that you'll be able to wake up and tell him that yourself, but you're not especially worried about the latter half.

·He feels you go completely limp just as the medical bay and laboratory signs come into view. Now in a blind desperation, he makes a split second decision to head for his lab, reasoning that the medical bay will certainly be crowded due to current circumstances. Everything he'll need can be found in his various tools, and he can't waste a moment waiting on anyone else, even the medics. He can recall so clearly the human texts now, how the phenomenon of suffocation was described, and the resulting smothering of irreplaceable cells... Your tiny body is still breathing, but how much damage has already been inflicted? What parts of you has he failed to save? Not knowing is tearing him apart.

·Brainstorm is the only one in the lab, and he looks momentarily relieved to see Perceptor enter, saying something about restoring communication before catching sight of the little body in his hands. A frantic recommendation to bring them to the medical bay is met with curt dismissal as he lays you on an open work slab. There's no time to entrust this to anyone else, and in his mind the supplies he needs are already listed clear as day, including where to find them and what order he needs them in to maximize efficiency. Conscious thought is almost nonexistent as he works with record speed. The only times he stops are when his traitorous optics glance to your tiny body, and each glimpse is like an icy dagger to his spark. This isn't it. It can't be it. He won't lose the one he cares about more than anything.

·The tank of oxygen and the human sized ventilation system are hooked up to your frightfully still face with the care of a diamondsetter. He's able to get the readings of your improvement quickly, as the oxygen levels in the ship were apparently not yet low enough to do real damage, but he feels no comfort. All of his mind is still in chaos from the helplessness he can't yet shake. The fog is so deep that he barely notices Brainstorm return with a glowering Ratchet, and he only replies in curt affirmations or negations when the medic begins questioning your condition, doing so somewhat gruffly due to the inconvenience of having to move you later. With only a confirmation from the other mech you'll be in his care, he heads back out into the ship, weapon in hand and optics cold as he sets about securing Autobot victory one shot at a time.

·By the time you awaken the battle is over and the Lost Light is back to near total functionality. A calm voice instructs you to keep your oxygen mask on just a little longer to be safe, and you see Perceptor sitting beside you in the small recovery room. Having the basic pieces of everything more or less clear in your head, your immediate concern is him, which is only made worse by the scratches and scuffs on his usually well maintained armor. Barely able to stay where you are, the questions begin to pour forth as you reach a hand out to him. There's an uncharacteristically exhausted smile on his face as he reaches out a servo for you to hold. The expression is an obvious mask, made only more strained by the fake flatness of his assurance that he's fine, and that he only endured minor damage while cleaning out the last of the enemy. You know he's lying about that and more.

·Despite your ability to read him, you're still surprised when he cracks in a heartbreaking moment. His shoulders shake, his helm falls forward, and he leans heavily against the berth as your gentle prompt forces it all to the surface. By his standards he's a wreck, though his sobs are barely audible and could easily be mistaken for rough ventilations, and he makes it clear he's aware of how pathetic he looks. But how can he be okay? You needed him, and it was his own system that had failed you, with a second rate cyber attack no less. He should have seen that coming from the onset! He should have prepared! He can't seem to find the ground beneath him as he shakes, and in that instant you find strength far beyond your tiny body, and you use it to claw your way towards him. Seeing this makes him panic, and when he tries to gently stop your efforts you grab him tight, looking deep into those optics as you remind him he doesn't have to know everything. There will be times he's up against the unknown and unexpected, but his determination and strength have always driven him forward, and that's what you fell in love with. As you speak he seems to regain himself, and you hold him as tight as you can while emphasizing that even if everything feels out of control, you'll always be here to figure it out beside him. There's a sigh of relief he doesn't bother to hide as his world stabilizes, and once again you and he are right where you belong, hand in hand at the center.

Drift

·Having spent time on earth made him rather familiar with humans, and that combined with his first hand experience being an outsider in a group made him determined to ensure you were welcome on the ship. Needless to say, his efforts were more than a little successful. Now he's trying to teach you self defense in your shared quarters, which requires some creative thinking to ensure your safety. He's still got you using lightweight staffs in the place of anything sharp, and being a beginner, you can't complain too much. Though it's hard not to laugh when something occasionally gets bonked, yourself included, and even he chuckles despite all attempts to appear the dedicated teacher. Even with these distractions you learn a lot, but it's hard not to just enjoy how gentle he is when adjusting your stance, his proportionally massive hands holding you as if you might shatter in an instant.

·Thankfully he has full control of his reactions when the ship unexpectedly spasms, and his cupped palm prevents you from tumbling to the floor as the tremors settle back to absolute stillness, allowing you to look up at Drift just as he opens his communication line to Rodimus. The captain is able to give a brief rant about an ambush and systems crashing all over before the line begins to break, and you see your steadfast partner visibly distress as he loses contact with his friend, getting only a few garbled bits of information before the line goes entirely silent. An attempt by you to establish contact on your own communicator finds no success either. For all of his usual calm, the mech still supporting you looks ready to fight as he acknowledges trouble is inbound.

·To your surprise, he lifts you clear off the floor in a single move, talking fast as he secures his weapons and prepares for what he says will be a run for the most secure parts of the ship. Even if he's one of the key bots for defense in the event of something just like this, he has to get you to safety, or at least somewhere relatively well protected. There's a few key locations he can think of; the headquarters for security, the laboratories, the medical bay, and a few others he's memorized for... well, this exact purpose. The moment a tiny human changed his world he had drafted countless protective measures to ensure their safety, because he knew the dangers they would face all too well. Unfortunately he's having a hard time keeping them all in track now, especially with creeping fear tainting his reason and ability to plan ahead.

·Catching the worry he never admits to having, and admittedly plenty afraid yourself, you help him focus by calmly asking for the closest place he knows of that's secure. Mask of calm returning in an instant, he smiles and decides to go for the main laboratory. Perceptor is likely there, getting whatever experimental defense apparatus he's currently testing up and running to expel incoming threats. There likely won't be a safer place in the universe once he's prepared. Drift keeps to himself that there's an unspoken understanding between them regarding you, namely that the reserved scientist will protect you with the same level of veracity he would his former battle partner. Unfortunately that vow may be getting tested very shortly... Yet he keeps smiling, refusing to let his fear dampen your energy as he decides it's time to make his move. Somehow you feel just as heavy in his hand as the sword on his back as he makes sure you're secure.

·Accustomed to being carried by him in a number of ways, you notice his grip is different the instant he steps into the hallway, his digits curled in a way that screams protection just as much as his narrowed optics radiate apprehension despite trying to appear calm. You know he's protective by nature, but this is different. Every part of him is working in unison to move with as little noise as possible, his senses alert and scanning for threats as he hurries through the ship far more silently than you would have ever expected for a bot his size. In all your time together he's never been so outwardly on edge. Through his shameful confessions you know of his past, and you know of his skill in eliminating threats, so to see him nervous is actually a touch alarming in itself.

·There's a quick whisper from him that he believes enemies may be unavoidable no matter what path he takes. Should there be combat, he warns, he wants you to remain hidden or at least in cover until he's eliminated the threat. Should they overpower him however, your goal will be escape through whatever means necessary. The idea of dying to protect his partner doesn't give him any pause. Instead, his only focus is on ensuring you know every tool at your disposal to get to safety. Thoughts of sending you through the vents give him little comfort, but his feelings are hardly a priority, as nothing matters beyond you. You who saw past his sins, who'd given him a home in your boundless heart, and who had brought nothing but joy and light into his life. If he could guarantee anything by sheer force of will, it was your survival.

·You want to remind him that you're not the only one who matters here. Though you don't have any of his great strength or speed, you're certainly not going to let him be taken from you, as surviving without him would hardly be a victory. But holding on to that conversation is all you can do for now. The danger is real if you draw unwanted attention through speech, and so you keep the thoughts to yourself, saving them for the time you both would have to talk when this was over. Stress is oddly nonexistent as the air crackles around you from tension, perhaps signaling you've become so anxious it's all come full circle and turned you calm. Still, you keep a firm hold on him from your position of cover. Spectralism has encouraged him to be incredibly sensitive to the world around him, so you hope your tiny self focusing on calm will help give him some comfort.

·Unfortunately your efforts are given no time to pay off. Without making so much as a sound, he pushes himself flat against a wall and shushez you as he does so, allowing you to catch the faintest hint of what alarmed him; the sound of very alien movement. Trained audials lock in on the most likely direction of the source, which gives him the information he needs to come to an important decision; there's no getting around this particular group. As time to wait them out simply doesn't exist, he's left to confirm that fighting is his only choice, and with that lays you down on the floor beside a vent opening. Having known this might happen does nothing to quell your panic when you realize you're being left on the sidelines. This mech leaves you no time to argue before silently slipping around the corner to end things quickly.

·There's a team of Cybertronian sized lifeforms so surprised by his arrival they only have time to clumsily draw their weapons before the first one is neatly cut to pieces. Double blades make short work of the next few, and the mess of alien blood barely registers as he moves in a kind of trance, unwilling to let himself waste a moment of time unleashing the frustration and anger he so desperately wants to take out on these intruders. There's no doubt in his mind they'd hurt you if given the chance, but his logic keeps him in check to ensure he doesn't lose himself to the rage such a thought tempts him with. Cold precision is what he needs to most effectively end this quickly, and the method is proven effective when the last enemy falls in pieces, all without a single mark on his own armor. Save for the few spatters of alien blood, but he hardly notices such a minor detail.

·You're a little more concerned when he returns dripping with the mess of battle, but a quick reasurance and a noting of the lack of energon's distinctive pink glow puts most of your worries to rest. Still, you cling tightly to him as he picks you back up, whispering your thanks despite the loud clamor of the recent battle. It's a small victory when your gratitude makes him smile once again. Reminding you that he took a vow to protect you, he holds you close again and sets back off, assuming the same strategy of silent travel as before. It's oddly less tense this time, as if seeing what he's up against gave him the confidence to overcome his own worries for your sake. Whatever the case, you gladly take the result, already worn out from all the excitement of his recent battle.

·A brief burst of communication gives him pause, and you're equally baffled by the sudden transmission until he takes cover and answers. The commanding bots make something clear for the short message they've been able to transmit; Drift needs to get you to the medical bay. A rapid explanation of how the shipwide errors includes the atmospheric generators puts it all together in horrifying detail. Oxygen levels are dropping on all the sensors, they explain before the line cuts out, and while it's happening slowly there's still precious little time. He doesn't need any further instructions when silence descends over you both once more. You, however, can barely grasp the full extent of what you've just been told. After all, you feel fine! Well... mostly fine, perhaps things are a bit more wobbly than they should be.

·You're embraced as his expression briefly cracks into full worry. There's a whispered promise to get you to safety before he's once again on the move, all the on edge energy from before filling his coiled body as it hurries through the ship at impressive speeds. Strategy doesn't come easily as you try to think of the best way to save your breath. Keeping calm is hardly an option with everything going on, but you give it your best shot. You just need to stay awake and as relaxed as possible until he reaches the medical bay. It's harder than it should be already, but you persevere, lying down in his hand to keep the world from spinning all around you. Being close to him helps just a little bit. It helps you believe that the two of you will be fine, that he'll get to where he needs to be without trouble, and that everything is going to be smooth sailing from here.

·But of course, his luck allows for no such fortune. In the next moment he's being forced to tuck you away without a word of warning, the sound of an even more aggressive group of attackers forcing him to act before you can be hurt. He tries to dominate the battle like he did the last one, using his anger for fuel but never allowing it to take control, and his blades respond well to the strategy at first. However, this group is larger than the last, and thus his ambush simply doesn't buy him enough time to defeat them all. Soon blaster shots are flying and counterattacks are being hurled in his direction. All he can think about is you lying just out of sight, and how little time he has for this, and that these beings are all perfectly fine ending your life with such a cowardly tactic... It's an emotional powder keg, and the spark is finally lit when a not so lucky alien manages to cut a shallow gash across his side. The harsh burn of the injury sets him off just as you manage to glance down the hallway.

·Calm and calculated combat becomes a brutal beat down of anything he can get his swords through. A snarl reveals his shamefully concealed canines as he turns his blades into instruments of revenge instead of mere tools to victory. Even as your vision spins you can see him carving the increasingly fewer number of enemies without any of his usual grace, his expression one of blind fury as he eviscerates his enemies and something like a smile pulling up on his lips through their snarl. Some part of him is enjoying this, you realize. Even though he doesn't linger or draw out his moves, you can see he's going for absolute brutality in his kills. He wants these aliens to hurt for what they've done, and while you can't feel any pity for them, you know he's going to agonize over this later. He's often confided a fear of his own mind, citing moments like these where he just wants the enemy to hurt, and you know he firmly believes goodness is beyond him because of this.

·There's a thrill as he clears the last enemy, despite a few additional injuries of his own to show for it. No one was going to harm his beloved human and keep their limbs intact. He's still flashing the artificially sharpened canines that usually bring him such shame when he turns to see you watching. Pride vaporizes to horror in an instant, both from the realization that he gave in to temptation and that you saw him partake in such senseless brutality, and only the continued need to move lets him approach and lift you once more. Apologies pour out of his voicebox as he returns to running, begging your forgiveness for having exposed you to the worst parts of himself and failing to control them at your most vulnerable. Guilt tears him apart as he sees you've begun to lose clarity in the growing absence of oxygen.

·Unconsciousness pulls at you despite your resistance, and you force yourself to stay alert enough to keep him reassured. Had you the words your emphasis would have been on comforting him in the wake of his loss of control, particularly in regards to how you weren't afraid and never would be, as that piece was just a small part of the actual him you knew. Did he reject you for your failings? No, you wished you could say, and that you would never leave him for the same reason. As it was, you could only suck in deep breaths and hope he might read the conviction in your eyes. You want so badly for him to see you're not even upset with him, but your more coherent thoughts on the subject are starting to fade as well. Assurances that you will always support him fade into the fog overtaking your mind.

·He feels you slip into unconsciousness and it's like another stab to his already aching spark. Time is running out, and he can certainly take some of the blame for that, can't he? How many precious seconds could have been saved if he just stayed in control and finished the battle without savoring the violence? It's enough guilt that he becomes blind to anything else, charging forward on the most direct path and straight into an ongoing battle between bots and the still invading forces. You're held to his spark with a level of protection a bot would usually reserve for the Matrix, your safety being the only one that matters as he quite literally cuts a path through the enemies, focusing only on getting to the other side as he does so. Without any kind of defense he's quickly suffering a number of injuries, but he either doesn't notice or care as he keeps you free of the danger. The desire for retribution burning in his spark is smothered by a cold refusal to indulge unless he loses what's most worth fighting for.

·Only a lack of operability in his leg slows him down, and by then he's thankfully surrounded more by Autobots than enemies. His heroic charge is credited with turning the fight, but he's heedless to praise and concern as he finds support to stand from an unexpected arrival; Ratchet. Stopping the medic before his own wounds can be addressed, he holds you out wordlessly as his sword clatters to the floor from his other hand. Energon loss he only just now notices makes him wobble, but he insists on waiting until you've been helped, refusing to be treated until he knows you're going to be okay. The medics sort of compromise by tending to him whilst setting you up on the prepared medical slab, and as his considerable injuries are patched up he feels relief plagued by uncertainty. Will you remember what you saw? Will the firsthand experience with his inner demons drive you away? It eats at him in ways no medic can make feel better.

·When you awaken he's also on mandatory rest, and he's moved your tiny self onto a medical slab beside him to keep you close, making his familiar colors the first thing you see upon opening your eyes. You can't bring yourself to care about the oxygen mask on your face when the recently welded scars on his armor shock you into a mild panic. Seeing you awake, he gently shushes your concerns and encourages you to be still, and his position on his side thankfully makes conversing quite simple. At a single, anxious prompt about your memory the moments leading up to your loss of consciousness become clear. Drift quickly assures you that everything is fine, but you catch his look of worry when you confirm your recollection, and a gentle request for more information strikes him hard.

·His apologies are as helpless as they are hopeless. The disgust with himself is nearly tangible as he begs your forgiveness for having exposed you to the worst parts of himself, and it takes far longer than usual to get him to listen to you, perhaps due to the mask muffling your voice. Reiterating that you already accepted his past, you recall the way he held you in the heat of everything just today, and emphasise the sheer volume of injuries he endured to save you. That's the bot you've chosen to love, at the peak of his strength and selflessness and determination... That's who he is, and who he will always be to you. Your reminder soothes the pain in his body and spark. Moving as close as he can on the berth, he takes the moment to appreciate being together once again, his faith in himself given new strength thanks to your boundless love.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #perceptor #drift #perceptor x reader #drift x reader #human reader #self insert #transformers headcanon

256 notes · View notes