#inhalable sensor

[dangerdust2]

Using a new technology developed at MIT, diagnosing lung cancer could become as easy as inhaling nanoparticle sensors and then taking a urine test that reveals whether a tumor is present.

The new diagnostic is based on nanosensors that can be delivered by an inhaler or a nebulizer. If the sensors encounter cancer-linked proteins in the lungs, they produce a signal that accumulates in the urine, where it can be detected with a simple paper test strip.

[cheaphousespending]

Inhalable sensors could make lung cancer screening more accessible worldwide

The diagnostic, which requires only a simple urine test to read the results, could make lung cancer screening more accessible worldwide. Using a new technology developed at MIT, diagnosing lung cancer could become as easy as inhaling nanoparticle sensors and then taking a urine test that reveals whether a tumor is present. The new diagnostic is based on nanosensors that can be delivered by an…

[brotherblaze]

the big freeze — jason todd

summary: Jason appears at your door in the middle of the night. Who are you to turn him away?

cw: implied claustrophobia

wc: 1,5k

note: you ever get stuck in an elevator and realize 'oh this is a closed metal box hanging in the air on the 13th floor' and then it takes the combined efforts of 3 people on different floors to get you out bc the wrong elevator keeps opening?

The TV switches to a commercial break featuring an ad for a late night hotline just as your phone buzzes. You reach for the remote to mute it and bring your phone to your ear. No sane person calls you at this hour. Which only leaves…

“Yes?”

“Can you…” there’s a pause on Jason’s end, and you use the moment to glance at the time. 1:38 AM. Yeah, not a sane time, arguably not a completely sane person, if judging by what his family gets up to back in Gotham. “I’m downstairs.”

“I gave you a keycard and the code for the security system.”

He sighs and the sound rattles in your ear. “I know, I—I’ve been waiting for someone to come by for like 20 minutes.”

“Well, in their defense, it’s way past 1AM.” You slide your feet into your slippers and stand, turning the TV off as you go. “Normal people are usually asleep at these times. On Tuesdays, no less.”

“Yeah? And what’s your excuse?”

“I’m an occasional insomniac.” You press the phone between your shoulder and cheek as you grab the black sweater draped over the back of your couch.

Still, the hallway is cold, all exposed brick and bright overhead lights. The chill bites at your cheeks and invades through the soft wool of your sweater. Jason’s sweater? It’s hard to tell anymore; so many of his things are at your place and so many of your things are at his place. The elevator arrives with a quiet ding. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you step inside, avoiding the large wet patch on the red carpet.

You don’t let the call drop, but neither of you are speaking anymore, either. The numbers on the small screen on the elevator wall count down.

Jason is standing by the large automatic doors at the entrance of the building. He has his leather jacket slung over his arm. You can faintly make out droplets from the rain still clinging to the surface of the leather. There—just as he spots you—a smile blooms on his face, almost boyish, as he cuts across the empty foyer in long, near-silent footsteps. He wraps his arms around your waist, presses his face into the crook of your neck. His hair is damp and you feel the water slide under your collar. The tip of his nose is cold, resting over your pulse. His wet jacket presses against your side, soaking your sweater.

Instead of the chill from the fall rain, there’s a steady warmth simmering beneath Jason’s skin. It spurs from his chest and spreads to his extremities, arms wound tightly around your body, to his fingertips pressing under your sweater and into your skin.

You nearly yelp at how cold his fingers are.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“We gotta take two steps to the left — my left,” you clarify. Jason does not unwind himself from around you, but he does take a step to the side and then another until you can reach the elevator keypad. You tap your keycard against the sensor and hit the button for your floor. The elevator doors drag closed and it begins its ascent.

Jason’s pulse jumps and his grip around you tightens. You don’t say anything, don’t pry him off or tell him to get his shit together—instead, you place a hand on the back of his head, curl the rain-damp strands of hair around your fingers. Jason’s lips part involuntarily in a silent sigh.

“Need a haircut, eh, bub?”

He chuckles, barely audible over the jingle playing from the elevator speakers. “What if I buzz it all off? Military style.”

You make a disgusted sound in the back of your throat.

The elevator slides to a stop, the lock mechanism clicks into place, and the doors open.

“We’re here,” you say, voice soft and light.

Jason takes a long breath in, inhaling your strawberry-scented body lotion. He’s the one that got it for you as one of your many gifts last Christmas (thank you, Babs, for being his sniff-tester) and it makes him giddy to know you still use it. He untangles himself from you, not fully, though, and guides you towards your apartment, an arm around your waist.

He toes off his boots and hangs his jacket in its usual place as you re-arm the security system.

“You should really start arming that thing even if you go down for pizza or something,” he says and bends over to pick up the black ball of fur rubbing against his leg. “Hi, hi, hi, yes, hi to you, too,” he tells your cat, nuzzling his face into her fur. He looks up at you, raises a brow when you open your mouth to say ‘this is Metropolis, nothing bad happens here,’ because you’ve had this exchange twice now. “Just saying, if I was 9 again and I knew someone left their apartment full of stuff you could easily pawn unlocked…”

You sigh. “Okay. I’ll remember to do that.” 

Because for Jason, it isn’t about the things in your apartment, not really.

“Thank you.”

You retreat into your bedroom and Jason carries your cat around like she’s a baby as he laps around your apartment. He stops at the tall windows in the living room and starts pointing out Metropolis landmarks as if said cat hasn’t been living in Metropolis longer than he has.

When you return, a pair of gray sweatpants and one of his shirts in hand, he’s telling your cat about how ‘Aunt Lois deserved that Pulitzer prize so much more than uncle Clark’. 

“Sorry if I’m interrupting something…”

“Oh, no, no, just reinstating how Clark got a Pulitzer before Lois even though she’s a much better writer than he is.”

“Right.” You hold out the change of clothes to him. “I got you a new toothbrush; the other one was getting old.”

“Thank you.” Jason accepts the change of clothes and beelines it towards the bathroom to change, your cat still in his arms.

Once he emerges (after quite loudly announcing to your cat how one should brush their teeth), his damp clothes left in the dryer to run first thing in the morning, you’re already nestled between the sheets. There’s an extra pillow and duvet spread out next to you. Jason releases your cat, who skitters to her bed on the windowsill to watch the rain droplets race down the glass, and climbs into bed, pats his pillow until it’s of satisfactory height.

You turn off the bedside lamp on your nightstand, turn on the cat-shaped nightlight and shimmy between the sheets. Then you pause, grab your phone and unlock it.

Jason’s eyes roam your face, the curve of your nose and lips, the heaviness in your tired eyes as you slowly blink at your phone screen. He’s made an effort to commit your features to his memory so he can see your face every time he closes his eyes. So he can keep you with him everywhere. Always. So, once again, he takes his time, going over every one of your features until you lock your phone and place it back on the nightstand.

“I love you,” he says, low and soft, though with all the clarity he can inject into his words.

You stare at him for a moment, then pull your duvet up to your chin, rest your head on your pillow and close your eyes. “I love you, too.”

“Forever.”

“Forever is such a vague concept,” you tell him with a scrunch in your brow. He can barely make it out in the dim red glow of the bedroom but he knows it's there. “Until the end of the universe. And even then you’ll be stuck with me. Like glitter.”

“Yeah? When’s that?”

“We’ll reincarnate an infinite amount of times between now and then,” you say with the certainty of someone who’s gazed far into the future, gazed at the very death of the universe itself. Maybe you have. Maybe you’re a meta—a true meta—unlike him, something that crawled out of his grave in Gotham.

Jason blinks, allows your statement to settle into the marrow of his bones, into his very being. His blood thrums in his veins. He balls his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “I don’t know; sounds a lot like forever.”

You make a sound at the back of your throat again. It is not a sound of displeasure, nor a sound of agreement, either. “Again; vague. The eventual death of the universe is all but guaranteed; it’ll expand too much and become too cold to inhabit. Probably. There’s like… six different big theories on how the universe will end. Take your pick.”

“But we’ll find each other every time.” It is not a question. Still, you nod.

“Yes. Every lifetime.”

“Promise?”

You open your eyes, take him in—you can barely make out his features in the dark but you can—the mass of dark hair splayed out across his (your) pillow, the curve of his nose and that of his cupid’s bow, the almost milky whiteness of his eyes. This is where your heart has settled. This is home.

“I promise.”

part 2

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[brookediamonds]

who's the guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad, mmm?

Part 2 to ‘Who’s the cute boy with the white (black) jacket and the thick accent?’

Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: After you and Axel confirm each other’s interest in each other, you decide to take things a step further and attempt to go on a date when, of course, there’s the trouble of Cobra Kai.

gif is not mine

(In Croatian, "ljubavi" is pronounced "loo-buh-vee" and is used to address someone directly. It translates to “love.”)

—————————————————————————

“Thanks for walking me back to my room,” you say turning back to the tall Croatian boy trailing next to you.

You stop when you reach your room, pulling your key card out of your pockets from your dress.

“Of course,” Axel nods eyes trailing down to your body.

“Oh,” you realized you’re still wearing his jacket, beginning to shrug it off. “Your jacket, here.”

“No,” he holds his hands out to your shoulders keeping you from removing the piece of clothing. “You keep it, ljubavi.”

“Oh, giving nick names are we?” You tease Axel, slipping your hands around his torso.

He lets out a small laugh, snaking his large hands around the back of your neck making you feel giddy inside.

He’s delicate with his touch, gently tilting your head back so it allows him to lean down and softly graze his lips with yours.

You sigh as he pulled away, your lips almost reach up for more affection but knew it was getting late and another round of events waited for you in the morning.

“Good night, (Y/n),” he whispers pressing one final peck to your forehead. Your heart flutters in your chest as he pulls away.

Watching him walk to the elevator, you tap your key card against the sensor and twist the handle, ready to go inside.

But not without looking back towards the handsome flushed boy, waving him one more goodbye.

Once you finally make it inside, you lean back on the closed door to your shared room, and breathe.

Tonight’s events replayed in your mind, the conversation’s you shared with Axel played on a loop, his european accent engraved into the part of your brain that memorizes sounds.

You’re brought out of thought when you see your roommate saunter out of the bathroom, toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

“And where have you been missy?” Sam muffles through a mouthful of toothpaste before continue to brush her teeth.

“I ran into Axel,” you grin walking over to your bed, slipping off the black jacket that held the sweetest scent of the young man you were just with.

“You’ve been with him this whole time?” Your best friend questions, her mouth falling open.

You nod bringing up the piece of clothing to your nose, inhaling the musky scent of Axel and his cologne.

“We talked, walked, kissed-“ you say holding the jacket tight against chest.

“You kissed?” Sam exclaims running over to you, plopping down on the bed. “How was it?”

“It was so…” You shake your head trying to grasp the wording for how you felt, how electrifying and dizzy his lips made you feel inside. “Consuming.”

The brunette girl watched you in awe as you described your night and took in every word you poured out.

“I hate that we met here,” you admit later that night as you and Sam laid in your beds, cozy in your pj’s and soft sheets.

“Why?” She asks lying on her side to look at you. You turn over, placing your arm under your head.

“We live on the other side of the world from each other, I feel like I met my match and he lives in another country,” you say glumly.

“You don’t think you guys would stay in contact?”

It would be a challenge. It’s your senior year of high school, college just around the corner, karate has always taken up most of your time, you hardly gave any attention to relationships.

“I want to say it would be hard but wouldn’t it be worth it if our connection meant that much to us?” You think out loud.

“So don’t think about it too hard,” Sam assured me. “We have a few days left here, just take things day by day, see where it goes.”

You sighed mentally agreeing with your best friend. She was right, you’re getting ahead of yourself.

The screen on your phone lit up catching your attention. Picking up the device, you noticed a text notification from an unknown number.

Unknown: Sleep well, ljubavi.

You smile seeing the nickname, knowing exactly who it was.

You: What does “ljubavi” mean?

You see the chat bubble rise above your keyboard before a message pops up.

Unknown number: Love.

Heart? Soaring. You were never one for nicknames, but this one turned you into mush.

You: I love it. Sweet dreams, Axel ❤️

You click your phone off and set it back on the nightstand before looking back up at the ceiling. Rerunning the night through your head, you fall asleep soundly.

—————————————————————————

It was a rough start to the morning. Mr. LaRusso informed your team that Terry Silver had once again weaseled his way back into your lives, this time with a different team.

The Iron Dragons, Axel's team. Silver was psychotic and a mess, it left you worried what could happen to the boy you took a liking to.

Anxiously waiting, you sat alone on one of the benches around the corner from the locker rooms, fiddling with your fingers.

Axel strode down the hallway, dressed in his green Gi, captain's headband tied on and ready to go. Why did he have to look so good?

"Hi," you greet the young man nervously as he sat right next you. The blue-green eyed boy wasted no time wrapping you in his arms, making you feel almost grounded.

Your eyes slumped shut, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, resting your chin on his left broad shoulder.

"Is everything okay?" Axel asks taking notice to your longing hold. You sighed pulling back from his warm embrace, still trying to figure out how to tell him about Silver.

"I brought you something," he says diverting your attention. Reaching into his pockets, he pulls out a braided bracelet with the Barcelona flower in the middle of it.

"Axel," you pout as he held the hand woven accessory between you two. "It’s beautiful, thank you.”

You take the gift, holding it to your heart forgetting why you asked him here in the first place.

“The woman who sold it to me said each petal represents something different, it reminded me of you,” he says tracing the four gold petals on the bracelet, a pink hue cascading across his nose and cheeks.

“Axel,” you hear a girls voice from down the hall making you both turn to its corporate.

Zara, the other Iron Dragon’s captain stood with a straight face, calling out to her teammate.

“Sensei is waiting,” she speaks calmly. You couldn’t read her, was she annoyed? Unbothered?

“I’m coming,” Axel says before standing up. Crap, you didn’t get to inform him on Silver.

“I must go,” he says facing you. “Good luck today, ljubavi.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips before striding over to Zara who glanced over at you with a questioning look.

She raised an eyebrow and walked off with the other captain, leaving you to ponder your thoughts.

“How’d it go?” Demetri asked as you approached your team, scratching the back of your head.

“Um, it didn’t- I’m sorry!” You apologize quickly. “He caught me off guard with something!”

“(Y/n!)” Hawk gave you a disappointed look, Robby and Miguel sighing with the same shared expressions as everyone else.

“Okay, but even if she did tell him, what could he do?” Sam interjects, hands on her hips. At least someone was on your side.

“Sam’s right,” Kenny agreed. “Silver has a way with anyone, one person makes no difference.”

“It could if they’re the winter soldier,” Demetri retorted making you whip your head to the tall lanky boy next to you.

“We already told you to stop calling him that,” you muttered lowly to him. “You have no idea what he goes through, look at what Tory was going through this entire time.”

The team fell quiet at your words.

“Let’s just get through this next round, okay guys?” Robby spoke up breaking the silence. “We have work to do.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, making their way to where your sensei’s stood.

—————————————————————————

You fought like hell, everyone did. Robby pulled through in the end against Kwon, defeating our biggest match.

We had finally defeated Cobra Kai.

As you and Sam hugged celebrating your group win, you notice the boy you've been infatuated with this entire trip approach you.

“Congratulations,” Axel spoke as you pulled back from your friend's arms.

“Thanks,” you smile widely crossing your arms over your chest. “And congrats to you.”

“Thank you,” he nods a small closed mouth grin on his face.

“I'll leave you two alone," Sam shoots you a wink before walking off. Axel glanced around him, taking a step closer to you.

Due to your height difference, you tilted your head up at the 6 foot boy admiring his post fight look. Messy auburn hair, cheeks flushed.

"May I take you to dinner tonight?" Axel asks reaching out his hands for yours. You intertwined yours fingers together, the tingles starting to form inside.

"I'd love that," you grin trying to contain your excitement. After this big win, and getting an opportunity to spend more time with Axel, you were on cloud 9.

"Kovačević."

You both turn to see Sensei Wolf and none other than Terry Silver standing side by side, his sensei glaring at you and Silver looking smug.

You suddenly felt caught, like you were just exposed from a dirty little secret. Silver saw you holding hands with one of his students, you, a Miyagi-Do with his team captain.

Pulling your hands from his grasp, Axel turns back to you, a frown forming on his face.

"We'll talk later?" You ask bringing his eyes back up to yours.

"Yes, I will text you," he confirms. You turn on your heels to walk away when you're suddenly caught by the wrist and twirled around falling into Axel's chest.

He brings a hand up to your face, softly caressing the apple of your cheek before locking his lips with yours.

You can't help but melt into the kiss, your tongue lightly grazing against his. You're both breathless when you disconnect, you stood dizzy as he walked over to the men that called him.

Shaking your head, you stride over to your team, a million thoughts running through your head.

After changing into normal civilian clothes, you closed the locker moving to leave when Miguel walks in.

"Hey," you greet him. "I was just gonna go look for you guys."

"No worries," he assures you. Your friend stood awkwardly, his eyes saying something but his mouth relaying nothing.

"Is everything okay?" You ask noticing his stance. "How’s your mom?"

"Yeah, no she's fine, thank you," he exhales walking to where you stand shoving his hands in his pockets. "We're actually worried about you."

"About me?" You ask with a light laugh. "Why?"

Miguel sighed trying to find the words.

"Demetri thinks-"

You rolled your eyes, slinging your gym bag over your shoulder crossing your arms defensively.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," you mumbled. "What now?"

"He thinks Silver might be going through Axel to get to you," your friend reveals.

No, you think immediately.

"I- I don't think he would do that," you say lowly. "Right?"

You're asking yourself at this point. Miguel stares at you with empathetic eyes, you rub a hand over your face.

"We just met Miggy," you begin to think about your interactions. "But I know this wasn't planned, this was all by chance."

"Okay," Miguel nods taking you for your word. "We have your back then."

You smile softly at the curly haired boy, before pulling him into a tight hug.

"What's this for?" He asks with a slight chuckle.

"I'm just glad you and Johnny are back, and your mom is okay," you breathed out. "It's not easy losing a parent."

He rubbed your back knowing your history of losing your father a few years back.

That same night Miguel left, you went to the beach because your dad and you loved spending time there. He would teach you the kata you know now, and practice your breathing work with you there.

"Thank you, (Y/n)," Miguel whispered. You both pulled back, and silently went back to your team together.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Why am I so nervous? I've already kissed the guy!" You freaked brushing your comb through your curls.

"Kissed, made out," Sam shrugged flipping through the channels of your tv.

"Made out?" Miguel speaks up sitting up from his spot on Sam's bed. "I was only gone for like a day."

"A lot can happen in 24 hours," you wince. Setting the comb down, you stare at yourself in the mirror rechecking your appearance.

You wore a red romper that held an array of tiny colorful flowers with a pair of raffia flats to complement the style.

"You look gorgeous," Sam came up from behind you, her face lingering next to yours in the mirror. She ran her fingers through your curls giving them a more tousled look that she knew you favored.

"Thanks, Sam," you say as she finished fixing your hair.

"I'm gonna use the bathroom real quick," she says to you and Miguel. She stepped aside and went into the bathroom.

"Where are you guys gonna go?" Miguel asks propping his arm behind his head.

"One of the local restaurants at the square," you respond spraying some of your Valentino perfume into the crevices of your neck.

Before Miguel could respond, there's a knock at the door. It was Axel.

"Be safe," your best friend's boyfriend wishes you as you grabbed your purse. You roll your eyes playfully, swinging the door open to reveal your company.

"Wow," Axel breathed out. "You look beautiful."

Your nerves vanished, all the worrying you held earlier diminished at his words.

"Thank you," you blushed. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Axel wore a grey henley shirt with a black bomber jacket and dark blue jeans, he looked absolutely handsome. And he was all yours.

He blushes at your compliment, his eyes lingering down your face before they shifted behind you making him frown.

"Who is that?" Axel asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Oh," you open the door a little wider. "This is Miguel, my teammate and Sam's boyfriend."

"Sup man," Miguel gives him a small wave before he goes back to watching tv.

"You ready to go?" You ask turning back to Axel with a soft smile. His eye tear away from the comfortable boy in bed and focuses on you.

"Yes," he responds a little more relaxed. You shut the door behind you, walking hand in hand with your date to the elevator.

As you both stood in the moving transportation, Axel lifts your hand noticing the gift he had given you earlier wrapped around your wrist making him smile.

He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your it making you giggle.

---------------------------------------------------------

It was a perfect night. The food was amazing, the art was captivating, and the company made it ten times better.

"So Mr. Europe, what do you think of Barcelona?" You ask as you and Axel strolled down the streets of the city. You stood on his right side, arm looped with his.

"Reminds me of Koh Samui," he says referring to a part of Thailand.

"You've been to Thailand?" You gasped. "That's so cool."

"And Japan," he adds. "China, Malaysia, India, every country in Europe."

You shake your head, stunned at his list of traveling destinations.

"That's amazing," you exhale nuzzling further into Axel's side.

"You ever been to Europe?" He inquires.

"No," you admit sadly. "Sam has taken me to Disney World a few times when we were kids, but other than California, I haven't been anywhere."

He nods, taking in your words.

"I really like it here though, being able to come here has been eye opening. Makes me want to see the rest of the world," you say thoughtfully.

"What do you hope to see while here?" Axel asks as you turn a corner into an alley way covered from wall to wall of art, lights hanging above you.

"Everything," you say untangling yourself from his hold to look closer at a mural on the wall. "Las Ramblas, Cascada Monumental, Park Güel!"

Axel stood behind you watching as you admired the painting, a small smile on his face as he listened to you ramble about your wants and wishes.

"And end with fight for the world tournament of karate?" He asks with a slight chuckle coming up to your side.

''And maybe something else," you tease him glancing up into his dark blue orbs. He reached towards you, moving the strands of hair away from your face so he could see your eyes.

"Can we take a picture together?" You ask almost shyly. You wanted to memorize this trip through and through, and you especially wanted proof that you had in fact met someone across the world that you very much liked.

"Anything for you," he says making your heart flutter. Axel stood behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist, gently taking your phone from your hand to take your picture.

You leaned back into his chest, smiling with complete bliss as he snapped a few pictures, your face feeling warm when he takes a few of him kissing your cheek then your lips.

But of course, there's an interruption when a back door is slammed open and out fall a few members of Cobra Kai.

"Ohh, what do we have here?" Kwon spoke almost slurring his words letting you know he had been drinking. You rolled your eyes as he and his teammates stood around you.

"How cute," your opponent says observing the situation in front of him. "Little rival team play time, huh?"

Him and his friends laughed making you huff in annoyance. Axel stood still a look of anger casting across his face.

"Just ignore them," you say making the tall boy look down at you. He silently agreed, both of you working to move past them.

Two members of the Cobra Kai gang closed in on you, not allowing you to pass through.

"Say the magic words," Kwon cockily dared you. Your blood began to boil at his arrogance, it was a perfect night and they were ruining it.

"Move aside," you state slowly. Kwon looked Axel then back at you, faking a shock.

"Wrong," he says pissing you off further.

"Get the hell out of our way and leave us alone," you seethed not being able to control your anger for much longer.

With a fake innocent look on his face, Kwon bends down to your level resting his hands on his knees before stating, "only if you say 'please."

As Kwon sent you a smug smile, you were ready to deck him in the face when another member suddenly attacked Axel.

"Hit me, come on," Kwon taunts you, tapping his chin for you to hit him.

As Axel threw his teammate into Kwon, you followed your instincts to turn and kick the other member that threatened to attack you.

When he landed on the floor, you turned back to Kwon who stood toe to toe with Axel, instigating a fight.

"Come on, I'll take you both, let's go," he challenged us. Suddenly the sounds of sirens were heard in the distance bringing you back to reality.

"We need to go," you say hurriedly stepping in front of your date gently pushing him back.

"I'll see you on the mat," Kwon promises.

"Come on," you beg grabbing Axel's hand tugging him with you. He finally listens to you, and you both run in the opposite direction of Cobra Kai.

When you make it to the beach, you halt to a stop, bending over to catch your breath.

"That," you inhale. "Was Cobra Kai. Actual pricks."

You had explained the entire back story during dinner to what brought your team to the Sekai Taikai, not leaving a single detail out.

"I can see why," Axel pants. Tiredly, you plop down onto the sand, the tall boy mimicking your actions.

"Nice round kick," he says a big grin on his face making you laugh.

"Nice counter strike," you throw back at him a small grin on your face. He chuckles watching as you turned to face him, his eyes becoming hazy.

Within the heat of the moment, you lean forward smashing your lips together, lips moving in sync with one another. You moved to straddle his waist, his hands going straight to your waist.

A fire ignited in the pit of your stomach as you felt him open his mouth allowing you to explore it with your tongue.

Gently pushing him on his back, your lips never disconnected, his grabby hands wondering over your backside.

Axel moaned as you lightly bit his lower lip as you tore apart for air.

"Best date ever," you whispered looking through half lidded eyes.

"Definitely," he agreed with a small smirk before tangling his long fingers through your hair pulling your head back down to continue what you had started.

—————————————————————————

part 3

Tag List: @karmaswitch

(a/n: um omg thank you for requesting a part two?? i’ve never done this before this is so exciting, and lmk if y’all wanna be added to the tag list!! i’ve been a wattpad girlie since i was 12 and was so intimidated to write for tumblr but it is so nice over here lol. incase you’re a fan of Teen Wolf i do have a book on wattpad for Liam Dunbar, my user is @ district12girlonfire that has been my pride and joyyyy.

anyway, part 3?)

[hederasgarden]

On the Horizon (1/?)

Summary: You've been pining over your coworker for a while now. He might not have realized but someone has.  Pairing:Tyler Owens x F!Reader (with minor Scott x F!Reader) Word Count: 2.5K  Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Angst, flirting, and asshole!Scott. Future chapters will be smutty. Not all themes are tagged. A/N: Thanks to @writercole for the summary and @ryebecca @mermaidxatxhear @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for their beta help. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ Glen Powell Character Masterlist

It’s sweltering in the midday sun and you wipe the sweat from your brow as you surreptitiously watch Scott work beside you. He doesn't seem bothered by the heat, typing away on his computer despite the stagnant air. It makes you yearn for the cool, controlled environment of the labs you used to work in before Javi recruited you. Although he'd likely tell you this weather was perfect for a storm, you're miserable. Meteorology isn’t even your specialty; you’re here for your engineering skills to manage the specialized equipment the team relies on for their data collection.

Perched on the tailgate of the Storm Par truck, you have a clear view of the other storm chasers clustering around Tyler Owens' red truck. The man in question emerges with a brilliant smile, and beside you, Scott scoffs, annoyed. He hates Tyler, and you're pretty sure the feeling is mutual. 

"Ass," Scott mutters, returning his attention to his computer.

When you look up again, you catch Tyler watching the two of you. You know he’s more than likely looking for a chance to provoke Scott, but to your surprise, he offers you a wink and pulls down the brim of his hat in acknowledgment. Before you can react, he's turned to speak to one of the young women on his team, giving her his full attention. A hand rests casually on her shoulder.

You wish Scott would acknowledge you like that. You thought things would be different after the night you shared weeks ago, but he quickly dashed those hopes the next morning, ignoring you completely. He only seemed to look at you when he needed your tech skills or when you made a mistake. Your cheeks still burn from his last reprimand in front of the team, the sting of his criticism lingering.

Clearing your throat, Scott’s eyes briefly land on you before returning to the computer screen. 

"What?" he demands.

"I was going to get something to eat. Do you want anything?”

"Yeah, you know what I like," he says dismissively. 

When it's clear that's all you're getting from him, you push off the truck onto the dusty road with a soft exhale and head into the gas station. The air conditioning inside practically makes you groan with relief, and you take a moment to appreciate the cool air. 

"You're not melting on us, are you, city girl?" You jump at the unexpected voice, surprised to see it belongs to Tyler. "MIT got you all wound up, huh?” He questions, amused. 

"What?"

"Your boss," he clarifies. 

"Oh, he's um...he's not my boss. Javi is."

"No?" he asks, brows raised. "Well, he certainly barks at you like he is."

Heat rushes to your face as you realize Tyler must have overheard Scott reprimand you yesterday after you miscalibrated one of the sensors.

"If you worked with my team, I'd be a lot nicer," he says.

You stare at him, unsure how to react to his comment and the suggestive tone. Before today, you’d barely spoken to him, although you get the impression that his flirtatious nature is just a normal part of his outgoing personality. Thankfully, you’re spared from having to figure out how to respond when the doorbell jingles and someone calls your name.

It’s Scott. 

"Owens," he bites out. 

Your lips part in a surprised inhale as he places a hand on your shoulder and stands so close that you can feel the fabric of his shirt brushing against your arm. Tyler's gaze drops briefly to your mouth before returning to your face with a knowing smile. 

 "Well, I enjoyed our chat," he tells you, not bothering to acknowledge Scott. "We should do this again, sweetheart."

Once he’s gone, Scott moves to stand in front of you "What did he want?" he demands.

"Oh, nothing. Just...saying hi."

Scott tenses, and he steps into your space, cupping your elbow. "You shouldn't talk to him," he advises.

When he tilts his head to stare down at you, something flickers in his blue eyes that looks an awful lot like jealousy. You glance over your shoulder at Tyler, only to have Scott say your name again, more forcefully. Turning back, you find his intense dark blue eyes locked onto yours. For the first time since that night in the hotel room, you realize you have Scott’s full attention and that sends a thrill of excitement through you.

You bite your lip, the beginning of an idea coming together.

An opportunity arises to put your plan into motion later that night. Nearly everyone has descended on the only motel in town, but no one seems interested in staying in their rooms. Music pumps from Tyler’s red truck and another group grill burgers nearby. Alcohol is flowing freely as different teams mingle.

You spot Scott busy inside the Storm Par command van, completely absorbed in his work. From experience, you know any attempt to pull him away would be pointless, but spending time with Tyler just might. You linger at the edge of the parking lot, trying to muster the courage to approach the Tornado Wrangler crew. They’re sharing beers and laughing, but when you look closer you realize a lot of them are still working in some way or another. Lily has the inner workings of her drone exposed, tinkering while Dani and Tyler look like they’re securing something to the side of his truck.

Suddenly what felt like a great idea earlier now seems silly. So does your sundress and the time you spent making yourself look nice. Any attempt to enact your plan would mean intruding on their little bubble. Besides, you’re not even sure this hairbrained idea would even work on Scott a second time. 

You turn to head back to your room when Tyler calls out, “Hey city girl, you want a beer?”

You freeze, eyes closing briefly as you realize there’s no turning back now. You’ve been spotted. When you face him again Tyler is watching you with a casual, expectant smile. He leans against the hood of his truck with one arm draped over it.

“Come on, we don’t bite,” he encourages. 

“Not unless you ask us to,” Boone chimes in, earning a collective groan and playful slap to the back of his head from Dani.

Someone tosses you a beer, and you fumble to catch it. It’s icy and slippery. Tyler watches you with a raised eyebrow as a slow, amused smile spreads across his face. You’ve never felt less cool in your life and you end up looking anywhere but him. 

“Hey…you’re an engineer right?” Lily calls out. “You wanna take a look at the wing here? She’s giving me some trouble.”

You glance at the Storm Par van, half expecting Scott to come to scold you for even considering helping the enemy, but he’s still inside. 

“Tin Man seems pretty tied up with his work,” Tyler observes. “I think you’re safe to join us, Dorothy.”

You blink, both surprised and a bit embarrassed to realize just how obvious you must be. “Uh, yeah, I can take a look,” you tell Lily.

She grins, shifting back on her heels. You follow her over to the truck to examine the drone. Lily talks you through everything she’s already tried so far with Cairo and you ask her a few questions in return. After a bit of trial and error, you identify the issue. Thankfully it's a quick fix. 

Boone lets out a low whistle, impressed. “You know, if things don’t pan out with the corporate overlords, I bet Ty would offer you a spot on our team.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, watching Tyler round the truck and draw closer to you.

“I’m a much nicer boss than Scout,” he promises.

“He’s not my boss,” you remind Tyler. “And his name is Scott.”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” he intones, holding your gaze with an intensity that makes it hard to focus on anything but the way he’s looking at you.

You let out a nervous little chuckle, realizing that you hadn’t actually planned for anything beyond capturing Tyler’s attention. Glancing down at the beer in your hands, you fiddle with the label until Tyler takes the bottle. He twists off the cap and hands it back without a word.

You offer him a quick, “thanks,” and take a sip. The lukewarm, hoppy flavor tingles on your tongue. You make a face.

“Not a beer girl?” Tyler asks, drawing back to give you a thoughtful once-over. He hums consideringly. “No, you strike me as a rosé-all-day type.”

“Actually, I’m a whisky girl,” you lie, grinning at the surprised blink you get in response.

“I must be losing my touch,” he confesses, leaning into your space and letting you catch the faint scent of his cologne or deodorant—something sharp and clean like the ozone that lingers in the air after a storm. “Unless, of course, you’re just messing with me,” he continues. “But you wouldn’t do something like that, would you, city girl?”

The way he stares at you suggests that he’s not just talking about your choice of drink. Before you can stop yourself, you look over his shoulder, searching for Scott. Tyler doesn’t turn to see what has your attention. He doesn’t need to, you realize.

“A lesser man might take that as a blow to his ego.” His tone is teasing as he uses two fingers under your chin to gently guide your gaze back to him. “Lucky for you, darlin’, I’m a big boy.”

A prickling warmth spreads across your body, and your jaw muscles tingle with a mix of embarrassment and anxiety. You must have been horribly transparent in your attempt, you realize.

“I’m not…I didn’t,” you stumble over your words as Tyler’s smile grows.

“The decent thing to do is ask,” he encourages. He cranes his neck behind him and you see Scott’s finally noticed the two of you together. “Better make it quick, he’s on his way over here now.” 

“What?”

“You know what,” he replies, tapping your nose.

Panic settles in, your reluctance to admit what you were trying to do warring with your desire to get Scott’s attention. “Okay, okay, fine,” you relent. “I’m trying to make Scott jealous.”

You can see Scott over Tyler’s shoulder now, his expression dark. He’s second away from being in hearing range. “Tyler. Please.”

“Well since you said the magic word.” 

He turns and in one smooth motion throws his arm over your shoulder to draw you in close. That seems to surprise Scott whose pace slows as he approaches. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest as you gaze up at him, acutely aware of Tyler’s body pressed firmly against your side.

“Hey, Scooter,” Tyler greets. “Want a beer?”

Scott’s cheek ripples in annoyance. “No,” he says curtly. 

“Suit yourself.” Tyler shrugs. He grabs the bottle in your hand and takes a long drink from it before handing it back to you. “Nothing better than a cold one after a day of chasing storms.”

Scott’s nostrils flare and he utters your name in a clipped tone. 

“Uh, I better go,” you tell Tyler. “Thanks for the beer.”

“Well, I hope to see more of you later, sweetheart,” he replies with a wink. 

The second you’re within reach, Scott’s hand is on your upper back and quickly moves to rest at the base of your neck. You feel a little like an errant school child with the way he guides you past the rest of Tyler’s crew, whose goodbyes are decidedly less enthusiastic than their welcome. Boone glances between you and Scott, making a face that you can’t quite decipher.

“I thought you were headed to bed early,” Scott accuses as soon as you’re out of earshot of the crew. He’s tense beside you, fingers flexing against your skin. 

“I was but then the Wrangler crew invited me to join them for a beer.” He doesn’t need to know you sought them out for your ill-conceived plan. 

Scott scoffs, moving in front of you. He stares down at you. “You shouldn’t be wasting your time with those hillbillies.” 

“They aren’t so bad,” you defend until he pins you with a quelling look. You know Scott well enough by now to drop the topic, even if his words don’t sit quite right with you. Tyler and his friends were nothing but kind to you tonight.

“Storm Par can’t be seen spending time with those amateurs. It’s bad for business. You should know better.”

You realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not jealous — he’s just angry. He’d probably be just as upset if another member of your team was seen mingling with the so-called enemy. How could you have been stupid enough to think talking to Tyler would make him want you again? 

“Come on,” Scott urges, seemingly intent on walking you back to your hotel room. 

At the door, you wave the card over the keypad and shoulder the old, warped door open. Before you can turn to bid Scott a good night a hand on your hips pushes you forward and he follows you inside. The door shuts and he plucks the keycard from your hands, thoughtlessly tossing it on the bedside table.

His mouth is on yours before you can speak, his hands grabbing at the hem of your sundress. The shift in his mood is enough to disorient you and you don’t resist when his tongue invades your mouth. The back of your knees hit the bed and then he’s on top of you, warm and solid. He pulls roughly at the strap of your dress, his teeth nipping at the exposed skin. When you feel his hand land on your inner thigh you push at his chest. 

“Wait, Scott,” you breathe. This feels nothing like your last time together. 

He pulls back, a tick in his jaw as he stares down at you. “It's been a long day,” he says, “and we both know you want this.”

You do want him, more than anything, but there’s something about his tone and words that dredge up an uncomfortable feeling in your chest. It makes your skin prickle, and you avert your gaze, suddenly uncertain. Above you, Scott sighs, and you feel his fingertips gently touch your jaw. You think of Tyler suddenly, his teasing tone and the amusement in his green eyes. When you look back at Scott, his unreadable blue eyes meet yours. 

The bed creaks as he shifts back. “I can just go,” he offers.

“No, please don’t.” The words escape your lips before you even realize you’ve spoken. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. Scott’s the kind of man you always dreamed about, handsome and intelligent – one of those Ivy League boys who never looked twice at you in college. 

“Good answer,” he says with a smile.

You pull him closer, and as his lips find yours once more, the lingering discomfort fades away. You’re finally getting what you’ve wanted.

 Aren’t you?

Part 2

♡

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[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!orion pax x human!reader valveplug, minors don't interact!

based on this delicious ask about orion overloading from inhaling your pheromones and some tags provided by @tom-foolery-incorporated <3

word count: 800

Holding Orion’s helm on both sides, you pull him toward you, feeling no resistance from the startled mech. His faceplate lands against your chest, and you immediately envelop him in warmth, letting him sink into the softness of your human body. The familiar shape of your torso and the rhythmic symphony of your heartbeat give him a sense of comfort and belonging, as if, after a long, exhausting day, he has finally found his way home. Orion lifts his optics to you and smiles in gratitude, though you cannot see the expression.

“I missed you,” you murmur tenderly, pressing a kiss to the top of his helm.

“I am glad that our feelings…” he begins, but his words are abruptly cut off by the sudden, unfamiliar scent flooding his olfactory sensors.

It is sweet, unmistakably yours, yet tainted with something unknown — something he cannot name. Has no time to analyze it before the scent overwhelms him, urging to flee, to pull away before it does irreversible damage to his processor. Escaping should not be a challenge; after all, you are not restraining him, granting him full freedom to move. But the problem is that he hesitates to run.

One breath. Then another. And another. Each inhale draws the scent deeper, seeping into his very core, coating his spark, his tank, until it finally reaches the most sensitive parts of his frame, teasing them mercilessly. It creeps behind his interface panel, wrapping around his spike and valve, luring them into a dance with the desire that consumes him in an instant. Just moments ago, all he had wanted was to hold you close, whispering sweet words in your ear, but now — now, the image of sliding his spike into your tight, burning-hot folds is the only thought left in his processor. The only thing he wants to think about. The only thing he can.

Orion takes another involuntary breath, stress-induced from the sudden onslaught of overwhelming need, and it seals his fate.

“[Name]!” he cries out, voice breaking. His concealed spike spasms, and from its tip, thick strands of pink transfluid spill out, splattering against his panel before slowly dripping downward, seeping into the seams, finding their way out. Some rivulets trail down his thighs, while others pool onto the floor beneath him.

“Orion, did you just come?” you ask bluntly. Watching the way his back arches, his optics roll upward, and listening to the symphony of his stifled moans, you are certain of the answer. You should be surprised — after all, you had barely given him any real stimulation to get him to overload — but you know your partner well enough to have learned just how little he needs to unravel. Still, the meaner part of you, the one that always surfaces when Orion is deliciously pathetic, wants to see undeniable evidence of his overload.

“Move your head. I want to see.”

“Ah!” Orion whimpers. “N-No, do not look,” he pleads, suddenly ashamed of the intensity of his own desperation.

His embarrassment does not last long, though, because Orion does not want to pull away. He does not want to lose this intoxicating sense of helplessness, this loss of control that breathing in your scent grants him. He wants to stay right here, drunk on your sweetness.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, now you’re getting shy? Please, I’ve seen you worse.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, barely processing your words. He inhales again, this time intentionally, and just like before, your scent floods his body. His still-hard, aching spike throbs, pleading for another overload, and his valve clenches around nothing, echoing the demand. He has no choice but to take in more of your scent, to drown himself in it. He presses himself against you harder, as if trying to meld into your body, rubbing his faceplate against your chest in a desperate chase for another untouched, hands-free climax.

Forgetting his own immense strength, he unwittingly forces you several steps backward, making you struggle to keep your balance.

“Hey!” you yelp, giving him a light, scolding pat on the helm. “I almost fell!”

That, finally, seems to snap him out of it — at least for a moment. Orion lifts his optics to meet yours, guilt flickering in his gaze. “A-apologies,” he murmurs, but his focus does not last long. He immediately buries his faceplate back against you, sensitive olfactory sensors dragging over your torso, trying to provoke another overload.

“Ah! [Name], please, help me!” he whines, his voice raw with need. He has to be inside you. Needs to ground himself, to find something solid to cling to, or else he fears he will completely lose his mind.

You sigh, feigning exasperation. “As you wish, love.” and Orion hurriedly retracts his transfluid-slick interface panel.

[dieseldame]

𝗠𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗙𝗹𝗲𝘀𝗵

Sevika x Mechanic! Reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2,2K

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Sevika arrives at your workshop late at night, battered and bruised from a brutal fight, seeking urgent repairs for her damaged mechanical arm.

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: Angst, comfort, hurt/comfort, slow-burn, first kiss, mutual respect, found family vibes, detailed mechanics, strong female lead, emotional vulnerability.

In the Lower City, time doesn’t move the way it does above. There’s no rhythm here—only chaos. Machines wheeze and hiss, drunk men stumble out of alleyways, and the Shimmer lights the night with its sickening purple glow. A place where even silence feels heavy, where danger coils in the shadows like something alive.

And yet, there’s always the hum of a machine shop somewhere—your machine shop.

Most nights, the noise keeps you company. The grinding of gears, the hiss of steam, the soft vibration of metal meeting metal. You’ve carved a life out of this grimy corner of Zaun: hands blackened by oil, skin marred by burns, heart stitched together with the same steel you shape. You mend what others break, piecing together scraps to give back function. If there’s one thing the Lower City respects, it’s those who can make things work.

But not tonight.

The shop is quiet. Tools lie idle on the workbench, scattered like forgotten relics. You sit slumped against the wall, head heavy, breath shallow—your body aches, but it’s nothing you can’t endure. A stitched wound at your temple pulses faintly; the bruises across your ribs feel tight when you inhale too deeply. It was worth it, though, for what you’d built.

The machine gleams under dim lamplight.

A marvel of metal and innovation, an appendage worthy of the woman it’s meant for. State-of-the-art sensors—so small you nearly went blind assembling them—thread through the new limb like nerve endings. You’d spent months on it. Scavenging parts. Trading favors. Getting into fights when “negotiation” failed. All for this: a piece of art wrapped in cold steel, capable of letting her feel again.

Capable of giving Sevika back something she’d lost.

She doesn’t know. She wouldn’t have let you—wouldn’t have wanted you to bleed for her, as she would say. Sevika was stubborn like that. Built of sharp edges and gruff words.

And yet she always came to you.

As if the broken parts of her knew where they belonged.

The door bangs open, hard enough to rattle the hinges. You don’t jump—Sevika never knocks. She storms in like a thundercloud, leaving the door yawning wide behind her. Smoke curls from a half-burned cigar clamped between her teeth.

— Thought I’d find you sleeping. — she says, her voice rough, but she pauses when she sees you.

Her sharp eyes track the bruises at your jaw, the bloodstained stitches above your brow, the stiff way you’re sitting. A subtle shift passes across her face—something unreadable, but heavy.

You lift a brow. — You’re late.

Sevika scoffs and strides inside, her boots loud against the floorboards. The flickering lamplight catches on the dark red smear down her cheek and the gouge in her mechanical arm—a deep tear through the metal, sparking faintly with exposed wires. She looks worse for wear: hair tangled, coat torn at the sleeve, shoulders tight with the lingering strain of a fight.

You stand, biting back a wince as your ribs protest. — What happened?

She shrugs off her coat with a grunt, tossing it over the back of a chair. Her ruined arm whirs as she flexes it, and for a moment, you think she might try to downplay the damage. Instead, her lips pull into a humorless smirk.

— Some idiot thought he’d try his luck.

— Clearly, he didn’t win.

Sevika snorts, the sound dark and pleased. — Didn’t even come close.

You’ve heard this before—her coming in late, bruised and bloodied but alive. You’ve always admired that about her: the way she endures. Survives. Sevika’s not invincible, but she wears her damage like armor.

Tonight, though, something feels different. You can see it in her posture, the heaviness in the set of her jaw.

— Sit, — you tell her. — Let me look at it.

She does, with minimal grumbling, lowering herself onto a stool by the workbench. Her damaged arm hangs limply at her side, and you kneel beside it, fingers brushing the jagged metal edges. Sparks hiss where the wiring has frayed. It’s worse than you thought—too far gone to repair tonight.

— Damn it. — you mutter.

— Don’t hold back on my account. — Sevika drawls.

You shoot her a dry look before rising to grab your tools. The lamp casts your shadow long across the room as you search for something—anything—that could be a temporary fix. Sevika watches you, one brow raised, her good hand braced against her knee.

— I can’t patch this up, — you admit after a moment. — Not tonight. The damage is too deep.

Sevika grunts, not surprised, but her eyes narrow slightly. — Then what are you waiting for? Find another way.

You hesitate. It’s now or never.

— You’re right. I do have another way.

She frowns, leaning back slightly as you turn and cross the room. Your hand moves to the edge of the sheet that covers your secret—months of work, pain, and sacrifice hidden beneath it. You look at her then, at the woman who sits in your shop like she belongs there, like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

— Consider it an early birthday present.

And then you pull the sheet away.

The room seems to hold its breath.

The new arm lies on the table—a masterpiece in steel and precision. It shines silver under the light, sleeker than Sevika’s current appendage, but heavier somehow. Something about the design demands respect. The plating has been shaped to fit her perfectly, every joint reinforced and seamless.

But the real wonder lies in the small, intricate workings beneath the surface. The sensors, invisible to the eye, hum faintly with potential energy. Capable of transmitting touch—real touch. Warmth. Pressure. All the things Sevika’s flesh had lost.

You’d made her a gift.

Sevika doesn’t move. Her eyes rake over the arm, slow and careful, and for the first time in a long while, she looks… surprised.

— You made this? — Her voice is low, quieter than before.

You nod, throat suddenly dry. — For you.

She doesn’t speak. You’re not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, so you keep talking, filling the silence. — The sensors are custom-built. Took me weeks just to get the design right. They’ll let you feel things again. Temperature, textures. All of it. — You glance at her, searching her face for a reaction. — I thought maybe… you’d like that.

Sevika’s gaze drags from the arm to you. Slowly, her expression shifts, softening in a way that feels dangerous. Like something she doesn’t let anyone see.

— You didn’t just make this, — she says, voice low. — Where did you get the parts?

You look away.

Her eyes narrow. — Tell me.

— I got them, — you reply, a little too quickly. — That’s what matters.

Sevika rises then, moving toward you with a deliberate slowness that makes your pulse quicken. She’s too close now, towering over you with that sharp, unreadable look.

Her gaze drops to the bruises at your jaw, the healing wound at your temple. She takes you in like a puzzle she’s solving piece by piece—her good hand lifting to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes.

— You fought for this. — It’s not a question.

You swallow hard. — Zaun’s not exactly a charity.

— Idiot, — she mutters, though her voice lacks any bite. Her thumb grazes the edge of your jaw—light, careful, as though testing her own ability to be gentle. — You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.

— It was worth it. — you say softly.

She blinks. For a long moment, Sevika just looks at you—searching, measuring, as though trying to understand something she doesn’t have the words for. You hold her gaze, unflinching.

— You’re a fool. — she says finally.

— Maybe.

Her hand drops, but she doesn’t step back.

— Sevika, — you start, — I just —

— You didn’t have to do this for me.

— I wanted to.

The words hang between you, raw and undeniable. Sevika stares at you, something unspoken passing through her eyes. You’ve seen her fight. Seen her spit blood and laugh through cracked teeth. But this is different. This is vulnerability—quiet and unarmored.

— You’re too soft for this city, — she mutters, but there’s no malice in it. Only something close to affection.

You smirk faintly. — And you’re too stubborn to accept a gift.

She snorts, shaking her head, but her mouth twitches at the corner—an almost-smile.

— Sit back down, — you tell her. — Let me fit it.

Sevika hesitates, then moves. When she lowers herself onto the stool again, you begin the careful process of removing her damaged arm, piece by piece, before fitting the new one in its

place.

The process is slow, deliberate. You work in silence, your fingers moving with the precision of someone who knows their craft intimately. Sevika doesn’t speak, but you can feel her watching you—her gaze heavy, lingering on your bruises, the faint tremble in your hands as you lock the new appendage into place.

The final connection clicks with a soft hum, and the arm comes alive. Its joints shift smoothly, a near-perfect mimicry of organic movement. Sevika flexes her fingers, and the sensors respond, lighting up faintly as they adjust to her.

— How does it feel? — you ask, watching her carefully.

Her brows furrow slightly as she tests the arm, running her metal fingers over the edge of the workbench. The faintest smile pulls at her lips when she feels the texture of the rough wood beneath her touch.

— Strange, — she admits. — I didn’t think… — She trails off, her voice softening. — I didn’t think I’d feel anything like this again.

Your chest tightens. — Good strange?

Sevika looks at you then, her expression open in a way that feels rare, like she’s letting her guard slip just for a moment. — Yeah. Good strange.

Relief washes over you, and you take a step back, suddenly feeling the weight of the night settle over you. Your ribs ache, your head pounds faintly, but it’s worth it—worth every bruise, every drop of blood.

— You’re something else. — Sevika mutters, shaking her head.

— What do you mean?

— You fight, you bleed, and then you do this? — She gestures to the arm with her good hand. — You didn’t have to. Hell, you shouldn’t have. But you did it anyway.

You shrug, trying to play it off. — Like I said, I wanted to.

She leans forward, her new arm resting against her thigh, the metal gleaming under the lamplight. — You’re not Zaun, you know that? Not like the rest of us.

You raise a brow. — What does that mean?

Sevika smirks faintly, but there’s no edge to it. — It means you’ve got more heart than sense.

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. — And you’re just figuring this out now?

Her gaze softens, her smirk fading into something quieter, more serious. — I noticed it the first time I walked in here.

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of her confession—small but significant—hangs in the air.

— Sevika…

She stands suddenly, towering over you, her new arm flexing as she tests its range of motion. Then she reaches out, her metal hand brushing your cheek—light, tentative, as though she’s still adjusting to the sensation. The coolness of the metal contrasts with the warmth of her touch, and your breath hitches.

— You went through hell for this, — she murmurs, her voice low and rough. — For me.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. — I told you… it was worth it.

Her lips twitch into a faint smile, but her eyes stay on yours, searching, unreadable. — You’re a fool. — she says again, softer this time.

— Maybe. — you whisper.

For a moment, the world seems to stop. The noise of the Lower City fades, the sharp scent of oil and metal dulls, and all that exists is Sevika—her presence, her touch, her quiet intensity.

And then she leans in.

Her lips brush yours, firm yet hesitant, like she’s testing the waters. It’s not soft, not sweet—this is Sevika, after all. It’s rough around the edges, but there’s something real in it, something that sets your pulse racing and makes the ache in your ribs worth forgetting.

When she pulls back, her gaze holds yours, unflinching.

— Thank you. — she says, the words rough, almost grudging, but filled with a sincerity that takes your breath away.

You smile, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. — Anytime.

Sevika chuckles faintly, shaking her head. — You’re gonna get yourself killed one day, you know that?

— Not if you’ve got my back. — you reply, grinning.

She smirks, and for the first time all night, she looks at ease. — Damn right I do.

As she steps back, flexing her new arm with an almost childlike curiosity, you can’t help but watch her, a warmth spreading through your chest. The bruises, the fights, the exhaustion—it’s all worth it.

Because this is Sevika.

And for her, you’d do it all over again.

ㅤㅤㅤ

[tinydefector]

I love the perfume pheromone so much could you write about how Ultra Magnus/Mimimus and Rung react to it please 👀👀👀

Ultra Magnus

He gets hit with the sweet scent that smells like Galium Gummies and Energon wine it has him doing a double take in his office as he works alongside you. He's so confused as to where it is coming from until his sensor all points to you. He tries to be subtle about it, inching closer in hopes he could inhale the sweet scent. His intake lubricates, and his sensors start going haywire. "What is that?" He asked, trying not to lean in closer. When he realises its on your skin it makes him desperate want to taste it.

"Oh, it's perfume. Sorry, is it really strong? I hope it isn't, " you call out while rechecking some of the flight gear and taking stock of what would be needed at the next planet the ship stopped on. He ends up walking off to take care of his issue before he can succumb to the sweet scent that's overwhelming his sensors.

Minimus (in case people like them separated)

He's deep in recharge when you pounce on him. His optics flick on as you smile down and laugh slightly at his surprised expression. A content hum leaves him as he pulls you down into a kiss, and then his scenors finally register the scent that seems to dance on your skin. His lips trail across your throat and collar bone as he pulls you snugly into his lap. Slowly grinding against you as he continues his assault on your skin, leaving hickies in his wake. "You test my patience too much, beloved," he mumbles into your shoulders. Another giggle leaves you as he rolls you to lay on the berth.

Minimus is a very passionate lover when given the chance, littering kisses on your skin in the aftermath of your teasing. Holding you close as he traces his digits across your face, his optics watching in true awe as if you were a gift from primus himself.

Rung

Dear Lord, if this bot smells perfume, it's like a switch flips. He's on you the moment he sees you dragging you into a passion kiss as he desperately works your clothes off. He's a rather passionate lover, and despite his calm and soothing nature, he is a beast in berth. You are rather sore after the amount of rounds you both have. In the end, you're sleeping pressed against his chassis with Blankets pilled around you as he softly reads.

He ends up looking for a very specific perfume to gift you later on. One he believes will taste divine on your skin.

To Rung, you taste like red energon with copper swerlls and rubies.

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[anakinstwinklebunny]

Pairing: stalker!mafia!anakin x f!reader

Epilogue

The penthouse was quiet, save for the muted hum of the city outside. ANAKIN'S SKYWALKER'S footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor, his stride purposeful and unhurried. The luxurious space was a testament to his power and wealth, but it held secrets within its walls that no one else knew. He moved with the ease of a man who owned everything in his domain, yet his mind was not on the riches around him—it was on you.

Reaching the end of the hall, he stopped before the door that blended seamlessly into the wall, invisible to anyone who didn’t know it was there. He pressed his hand against the hidden sensor, and with a soft click, the door unlocked, sliding open to reveal a narrow staircase descending into the darkness.

Anakin took a deep breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he descended the steps, each one creaking under his weight. His heart quickened with anticipation, a familiar thrill rushing through him as he approached the sanctuary he had built—a place where he could be alone with his thoughts, his desires, his obsession. His everything

He almost felt like a silly teenager again, all those butterflies flying in his stomach, circling their path. He felt it. And he loved feeling it. It was the thrill of the amazing feeling he could sense whenever his steps were closer to that room. Although, it wasn't just normal feeling. And it weren't normal butterflies. Everything was twisted to its own the most darkest form

Yet, he loved it. He cherished it. Like he would cherish you, if you'd let him.

The room at the bottom of the stairs was small and windowless, illuminated by a single dim light that cast long shadows across the walls. But those walls…they were alive with images. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of photos covered walls to every inch, creating a chaotic mosaic of your face, your smile, your life. Some were taken from afar, capturing moments when you thought you were alone, while others were closer, more intimate, as if someone had been standing right behind you.

There were candid shots of you at work, in the café, laughing with friends, walking down the street, oblivious to the camera’s gaze. There were even images from inside your apartment—photos of you sleeping, eating, reading, crying, sitting in dull silence. Your entire life mapped out in obsessive detail, each picture telling a story that only he could understand.

Anakin’s fingers brushed over one of the photographs, a close-up of your face, serene in sleep. He traced the curve of your cheek with his thumb, his eyes dark with an intensity that bordered on madness. His breathing deepened, the room seeming to shrink around him as he was consumed by the overwhelming need that had driven him to this point.

He imagined himself touching you, but not in sexual way - more in a gentle, loving way a real partner would do. He wanted to feel the heat of your face, to feel the light skin against his fingertips. He wanted to make you feel like a goddess. Because that's what you were for him

Yet in among everything, it wasn’t just about wanting you that way. It had more of a darker meaning, even when he didn't want to admit it. It was about possessing you, consuming you, making sure that no one else could ever touch what was his. You had become his world, the axis around which everything else revolved, and the thought of losing you—of you slipping through his fingers—was unbearable.

He walked to the center of the room, where a small table stood, cluttered with more mementos of you—a strand of hair, a piece of jewelry you had lost, a napkin with your lipstick stain. He picked up a ring, one he had bought but hadn’t given to you yet. It wasn’t time. Not yet. But soon.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as if he could breathe in your essence from these objects. The sweet, fruity fragrance he swore followed him everywhere.

The room, this shrine to his obsession, was both his refuge and his prison. It was here where he allowed himself to indulge in the darkness that he kept hidden from you, the side of him that even you, in your love and trust, could never fully know.

At least for now.

His eyes snapped open, and he looked around the room with a newfound determination. This was a game, after all—a game of strategy and patience. Every move he made was calculated, every little action of his was for the sake to make you fall right into his arms. He was playing a dangerous game, but he was the master of it. And now, with each passing day, you were beginning to play it too, though you didn’t even realize it.

Anakin turned toward the door, the ring still clutched in his hand burned a hole in his palm. As he began to climb the stairs, he glanced back at the room one last time, a dark smile playing on his lips.

“Would you be able to play this game?” he murmured to the shadows, his voice barely above a whisper. “Or is it already too late?"

The door slid shut behind him, the room becoming dark once again. Just like his owner's heart

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[andy-15-07]

Elastic Embrace

PAIRING: Reed Richards x reader

WORD COUNT: 2205 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

requestHi I have a request! In honor of the Fantastic Four movie coming out soon, could you do a Reed Richards story? Maybe where the reader has powers too but struggles to control them so Reed helps them? Lots of fluff and cute moments, maybe a bit of smut too if you want!

You slip into the Baxter Building lab well before sunrise, heart pounding as you stare at the humming containment pod. Today’s the day Reed Richards finally tries to help you master your power,your ability to phase through solid matter. You’ve spent the last month learning to dial it down to a harmless shimmer, but every time you try something bigger, you end up halfway through a wall or sinking into the floorboards.

Reed, tall and lean even in his rumpled lab coat, appears behind you as you fidget with the control panel. “Morning, Y/N,” he says softly, blue eyes warm. “Ready for our first session?”

You jump, nearly pressing the wrong button. “Yeah,sorry. I’m just… nervous.”

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, offering his hand. “Nervous is good. Means you care.”

You take his hand and let him guide you to the small training chamber: a clear-walled sphere with an array of sensors. The city skyline glitters outside. “So,” Reed begins, folding long arms, “today we’ll start simple. I want you to phase your fingertip through that steel cube.” He points to a heavy block on a pedestal.

You breathe deep. “Okay.” You step forward, watching your hand tremble. “Here goes.”

“Take your time,” Reed instructs. “Imagine your molecules slipping between the cube’s.”

You close your eyes and feel the familiar tingle. Slowly, your index finger grows translucent… then disappears entirely. A startled gasp escapes you as your hand glides through the cube. You yank it back out, normal again, blinking in triumph.

Reed’s grin is infectious. “Excellent!” He claps once,soft, almost shy,and his eyes sparkle. “See? That was perfect.”

Your cheeks heat. “That was just a fingertip,” you protest. “Not the whole arm.”

“Progress is progress.” He crosses to your side. “Now, try your whole hand.”

You inhale and, guided by his steady presence, glide your hand through, elbow next. Your confidence building, you coax your shoulder forward,and suddenly you’re halfway through the steel. A jolt of panic flickers, but you hear Reed’s calm voice in your ear.

“Control your breathing. Steady,now pull back.”

You obey, phasing out in one fluid motion. Your heart pounds, but you smile,big and genuine. Reed steps forward, envelops you in a hug from behind, and you feel him press a light kiss to your shoulder.

“Great job,” he whispers. “Really great.”

Later, you’re sprawled on the couch in your shared loft,one of Reed’s quieter safehouses,wrapped in his enormous sweater. Across from you, Reed is perched on the armrest, reading through biometric data on a tablet. He glances up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admit, rubbing your temples. “But… good-tired.”

He nods. “Tomorrow we’ll try walking partway through the wall. But tonight, you rest.”

You grin sleepily. “Promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Breakfast in bed?”

Reed raises an eyebrow, but a smile tugs his lips. “Of course.”

Sunlight peeks through the curtains the next morning as you wake to the smell of coffee and sizzling bacon. In the kitchenette, Reed flips pancakes,his arms stretchy enough to handle both spatula and mug at the same time. He turns, grinning. “Morning, Y/N.”

“Wow,” you murmur, sitting up. “You’re domestic.”

He shrugs, pancake in hand. “If I can’t master breakfast, how can I teach you to phase properly?”

You laugh as he brings a plate to you. “Thank you.”

He sits beside you on the floor, leaning back against the island. “So,how’d you sleep?”

“Like a log.” You pop a pancake into your mouth. “This is amazing.”

“Glad you like it.” Reed leans closer, voice soft. “I like this,us,just hanging out.”

Your heart flutters. “Me too.”

He brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “There’s something… cute about your hair in the morning light.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks. “Stop.”

He chuckles. “Never.”

That afternoon, you’re back in the lab, ready to tackle phasing through a wall. Reed programmed a holographic grid on the far surface, so you can see exactly how far you’ve gone. You place your palm flat against the cold concrete.

“Just your hand first,” Reed reminds you, voice calm.

You nod, breathe, and push forward. The grid lines flicker as your hand slips through. You slide your forearm, smile widening… then hesitate at the elbow.

“Steady,” Reed says quietly. “Find your edge.”

You take a slow breath, push your shoulder in,and suddenly you’re in the wall, cement scraping at your back. Your knees hit the barrier too soon, and you stumble, trapped. Panic surges.

“Y/N!” Reed’s voice is urgent. He steps forward, stretching through the solid block until his body reaches you. He grasps your wrist in his hand,his stretchy wrist, but firm all the same,and pulls you free.

You collapse into his embrace, heart racing. Reed holds you tight. “Easy,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

You tremble, tears pricking. “I’m sorry. I did it wrong.”

He strokes your hair. “No, you did great. You just need more practice.”

You sniffle. “I don’t want to keep embarrassing myself.”

Reed tilts your chin up, his eyes gentle. “Y/N, look at me.” You do, and his smile is patient. “Everyone struggles at first. You’re learning a new way of being. I’m proud of you.”

Your tears spill over. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

He brushes a tear away and kisses your forehead. “Yes, you are. And I’ll be here until you can slip through that wall with ease.”

That evening, exhausted, you settle onto the lab’s observation balcony. Reed joins you, handing over two steaming mugs of cocoa. The city lights shimmer below.

“To persistence,” he toasts.

“To… you,” you answer, and laugh when he raises an eyebrow.

He grins. “I like the sound of that better.”

You sit in comfortable silence, sipping cocoa. Reed wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You rest your head on his shoulder. “Thank you for everything,” you whisper.

He kisses the top of your head. “Always.”

Over the next weeks, your sessions alternate between breakthroughs and setbacks. Every time you feel discouraged, Reed’s there with a patient word, a goofy joke, or an impromptu backrub. You discover that his mind is as elastic as his body,able to stretch around yours, ready to support you in any way.

One night, as you’re heading home, you find Reed waiting at your door. In his hands: a small steel puzzle cube. “Thought it might help,” he says, offering it to you.

You grin. “Is this for…?”

“For phasing practice,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck. “But also…I thought we could…play with it. Together.”

You blink, heart fluttering. “Together?”

He steps closer, eyes warm. “Yeah. We could…take turns. You phase, I grab…or vice versa.”

Your breath hitches. “That sounds…fun.”

He grins, and you lean in. “Okay.”

Inside, he dims the lights and sets the cube on the coffee table. You sit on the couch; he kneels before you. “Ready?”

You close your eyes, center yourself, and press your hand to the cube. Inch by inch, you phase your fingers through. When your entire hand sinks in, you guide it back out, gasping in triumph.

Reed claps softly. “Beautiful.”

Your cheeks warm. “Your turn.”

He places his hand on the cube. In a moment, he phases his fingers through, then laughs. “Easy.”

You giggle. “Okay, smarty. Try the other side.”

He flips the cube around, touches a different face. “Hmm,slightly thicker metal. Let’s see,“

He phases completely into the cube, disappearing from sight. You gasp and reach forward…then he slips out behind you, pulling you into a kiss so soft your breath catches. His hands roam your back; you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Reed,” you murmur against his lips. “We shouldn’t…”

He hushes you with a finger. “Y/N, you’re safe.”

His kisses grow more insistent; his body stretches around yours until you’re both pressed comfortably into the couch. The warmth of his skin, the softness of his lips,it all hums through you. Your skin tingles with residual power, like the last echo of your phasing.

He lifts you onto his lap, carefully, so no awkward creaks of the couch disturb you. You free his lab coat and collar of his shirt, nipping at the warm skin of his chest. He shivers, closing his eyes.

Every stroke, every kiss, is filled with warmth and affection.

He catches your lips again, softer this time, as his hand slides beneath your skirt to rest warm and sure against your inner thigh. Your pulse hammers in your ears, and you part your lips against his, whispering, “Reed… please.”

He smiles into the kiss,an electric flash in those deep blue eyes,then lowers his mouth to your collarbone, trailing slow, teasing kisses up toward your neck. His fingertips press gentle arcs into your thigh, inching ever closer until you can’t help the soft gasp that slips free.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, voice thick with need. He lifts you slightly, guiding you to settle fully onto his lap so your heat is flush against him. His arousal presses insistently against you, and you let your hands roam over his chest,over the firm muscles that ripple beneath elastic flesh.

When he shifts, you feel the slick promise of him at your entrance. You tilt your hips, meeting him halfway. A low, breathy groan rumbles from Reed as he fills you completely, slow and tender. You thread your fingers through his hair, marveling at the contrast of softness and strength in every stretch of his body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “So incredible.”

You cup his jaw, your touch somehow grounding you amid the swirl of sensation. “Only with you,” you reply, voice trembling.

He smiles, then pulls you closer, rocking his hips gently at first,drawing out every delicious stretch, every flutter of warmth. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing him deeper, and lean into him as he picks up the pace. Each roll of his hips sends sparks through you; you moan softly, delighted by how completely he knows you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Reed says, voice rough. He slides one hand from beneath your thigh to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Heat flares through you, and you arch against him, biting your lip to stifle a cry.

He answers with a kiss so fervent it steals your breath, his other hand curling around your back, anchoring you to him. You grind down, squirming as your power hums,a gentle warmth, like embers beneath skin,mingling with the heat of his body.

“Do you feel that?” he rasps against your mouth. “Every part of you…”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Every part of me loves you.”

At that, Reed’s pace shifts,deeper, more insistent,pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails grazing rubbery skin. Your vision flutters, and he hushes you with a kiss at the base of your throat, murmuring, “Let go, Y/N.”

With one final thrust, you shudder, your power flaring softly as your pleasure peaks. You collapse against his chest, trembling, and Reed holds you through every tremor, rocking slowly until the world steadies again.

He eases you down onto the couch cushions, shifting so he can lie beside you, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. You nestle into his warmth, breath still ragged, as he kisses your temple.

“I love you,” he whispers, fingers tracing idle patterns across your back.

You lift your head to meet his gaze, smiling through the aftershocks of bliss. “I love you too, Reed Richards,Mr. Fantastic,master of all things,” you tease, and he laughs, his chest vibrating beneath you.

“Now,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours once more, “let’s see if we can’t master breakfast in bed next.”

You giggle, snuggling closer, and as you drift toward sleep in his arms, you know that with Reed by your side,stretching, supporting, loving,you could conquer any challenge: phasing through walls, mastering your power, or even carving out a lifetime of mornings just like this.

The next morning, you awaken in Reed’s arms, sunlight kissing your face. Your powers feel… calmer, somehow, as though his acceptance has soothed the rough edges. You nuzzle into his chest.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, stretching around you until you’re both upright, spooned together.

“Morning,” you reply, smiling up at him.

He kisses your forehead. “Coffee?”

You laugh. “Please.”

He slides out of bed,carefully, you realize, given his elasticity,and leaves you a note on the nightstand: “Breakfast at Joe’s on me. Meet me downstairs.” You grin, pull on some clothes, and slip out to meet him.

Downstairs in the Baxter lobby, Reed is waiting, hair tousled, smile radiant. He holds two cups of steaming coffee and a paper bag of muffins. “Thought we’d keep the biscuit trend going,” he jokes.

You take a muffin, sit beside him. “Thank you,for last night. For everything.”

He reaches for your hand. “You’re the bravest person I know.” He squeezes your fingers. “Now, let’s see how brave we can be today,in training and…everything else.”

You lean into him, heart full. With Reed by your side, you know you can do anything,even learn to control a power as strange and wonderful as yours. And maybe, just maybe, discover entirely new ones,together.

[ficandkaboodle]

Alternatively, for Slasher!V:

The cloth adoring the altar table is mildewy and dry rotting all at once, the weather and encroaching bugs having had their way with it.

You only have less than nanoseconds to care about your back being placed against it before V’s figure eclipses all traces of moonlight straining through splintered holes in the sanctuary’s roof.

Even in the poor lighting, you can see two things: That piercing left eye of his, and his even more sharpened smile.

You can hear him panting, each breath dragging against his rib cage and causing his chest to heave.

You didn’t even know he needed breath to continue existence, though something in you would later suspect that perhaps this was a mimicry of humanness. Something to further draw you in and to be enticed by.

The grit of his exhales seem to almost sound like laughter, furthered only by how that grin of his stretches to reveal even more carved shards.

Each seems all too eager to dig into your heating flesh.

The shrill scrub of talons dragging across imperfect wood rumbles into your ears but you pay it no mind as the shaggy head above you swoons in. The sudden movement makes you jolt and lightly gasp, only to stop when you feel the press of his nose into your hair.

A deep inhale draws in your sweat-moistened locks before a hot, boiling exhale places them back.

You smell petrichor and smoke. You can’t tell if it’s from him, or some ghostlike remnant of the chapel’s holier days.

Clothes rustle as he climbs on to the table himself, making of him a cage within which you are to be kept until he tires of you in that position.

In which case, he’ll find other ways of keeping you — and you can see it dancing in the crazed whiteness of his eye that V has many, many ways in mind.

He leans in once more, just enough so his lips brush against the curve of your ear. So close that even his whisper sounds sharp and thundering:

“I will make you my angel.”

Your breathing hitches before returning back with tremors and you know he can hear them. He can hear your heart, your lungs, everything encased inside of you reacting on primal instinct.

He leans forward once more and you feel something on your forehead: A kiss. Almost mockingly sweet as it places itself at your hairline.

The lips are chapped against the moist softness of your skin and yet your sensors somehow find delight in the drag of harsh skin there. You don’t have enough in you to properly question how it makes your thighs twitch together.

Those same lips, chapped and blackened, lower to your other ear and give it a similar treatment to its twin:

“M i n e,” he growls lowly. Lovingly. Adoringly. Menacingly. Threateningly.

And by the way you hear his claws cut into the surface beneath you, you know your fate is sealed on this altar.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Love The Hell Out Of You

Part 2: Two Sides

It was a small and quaint village that was the source of your departure from the cabin in the forest. With a heavy list of things scrawled onto cheap yellow notepaper that was shoved into your pocket, and a series of things you needed to accomplish, you had no choice but to leave the home you'd inherited and face the new world around you.

It was a debilitating risk that made your heart feel tightly bound in wire within your chest, and you had placed your emotional cycle briefly on pause. 

But even the smallest attempt to keep it under control was stymied by the threat of your emotional state climbing the guardrails you nailed in place. It was inevitable, the hormones from your pregnancy could only be held back for so long, and you were bound to cry again for the loss of an alpha who never really cared, and the little life that was depending on you.

It wasn’t a choice anymore, you didn’t have the luxury of being able to decide whether this was something you wanted to do, or something you had to do. This was a necessity, if you couldn’t get the wood furnace working to heat the rest of the home, it wouldn’t amount to anything good once winter would hit.

You could count on the fireplace in the living room however that would only produce so much heat, and you would have to actively be aware of the fire throughout the night. 

At least with the wood burning furnace, once you had a large enough piece of wood to slowly burn, you could be able to maintain a steady heat throughout the cabin. However, there was something wrong with one of the sensors, or one of the panels, and you would have to find someone to fix it. You wouldn’t be able to fix it on your own even if you had the tools and the parts, the furnace was well built but everything was written in German, and your little and basic understanding wouldn’t get you anywhere. 

All in all, the venture into the village was as life dependent as it was a chance to show your face and get to know people. This was going to be your home for a considerable future, and you would have to make people aware that you were there. You were pregnant, you would be making trips into the village for supplies for yourself and your baby, socializing with people you might have to rely on was vital. 

The first stop you had made into the village was a multipurposed hardware store that had offered repairs services on the side. You had parked your vehicle on the side street by the public parking rows and made your way down the pavement toward the front door of the white stone and wooden building. The handcrafted wooden sign hanging above the door was the indication that you were in the right place, and you had climbed the three small steps to get to the door. 

You inhaled slowly, building up nerves to cross the threshold and attempt to put your limited German to use to try and seek help. The moment your hands had rested on the door handle, and you pushed, you were almost immediately tripped by an orange cat with one ear that went flying by you. The furry creature darted into the hardware store before you, jumping effortlessly onto a long wooden counter with a register nearest the door. Once you had entered the store and closed the door behind you, the cat had perched on the desk and meowled at you, tilting its head as if to demand a greeting. 

You balanced the English German translation book you had brought with you under your arm in order to give the cat a scratch behind its remaining ear, rubbing its head after it so loudly demanded you to. While you were looking around the store at the shelves that were organized in long rows with aisles that led to a series of two desks set up near the back of the store, likely a place where someone could hire contractors or order bulk supplies. 

“Guten morgan.” A woman had stepped out from one of the shelves, setting a plastic basket full of packages screws and nails down on the desk, her greying brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail that was draped over her shoulder. “Brauchen Sie etwas?” 

You looked at the woman with a slightly uneased expression, trying to detect and pick apart any words that you could have easily detected in German. From the tone of voice, you could surmise that she was asking you if you needed help, and you had grabbed your English German book and flipped open the pages, stumbling over the pronunciation. 

“Guten morgan.” You finally spoke, getting the greeting down without a struggle, however it was the rest that had caught you off guard. “Ich muss einen...” 

Your thumbed through the translation book in your hands, your stomach felt like it was twisting with anxiety when you felt the woman’s staring you down. “Ofen reparieren-” 

“Englisch?” The woman had cut you off before you could truly finish, moving closer toward you and the register you were standing nearby. “You are English, ja?” 

“My German is terrible, I’m really sorry.” You closed the book with a sigh, and that guard you had on your emotions was quickly starting to crumble as you spoke. “I just moved into a cabin out of the village and the wood furnace isn’t working. I don’t know if it’s the senor or if it’s something else but-” 

“Ah you need a fix.” The woman had sensed your nervousness, how could she not when you were stumbling over your words while actively looking as if you were about to cry. To your emotional state, she had tilted her head and looked you over before her attention flit toward the desks near the back. “Come with me.” 

You turned away from the door and followed the woman away from the register, taking the same path as she had through the long aisles of tools, big and small, toward the set of desks in the back. As you walked the orange cat with one ear followed you, its tail sticking straight up in the air, swishing occasionally as if it were the real tour guide and not this woman. 

“Sit here.” She was direct in her order for you to sit on the desk at the left, and you took a seat where she instructed, setting your book in front of you while the notepad of your other tasks remained in your pocket.  Your knee bounced beneath the desk, a nervous tick that you’d always seemed to have, while the reminder of what you were doing here was hinging on your success. There was little you could do and accomplish if you didn’t get this furnace fixed before the temperatures started dipping. 

Not to mention you would need a doctor, or at the very least find a walk-in clinic, someplace that could look after you during your pregnancy. Or at the very least, try and find a midwife to help you. 

You waited for the woman for fifteen minutes before she had walked back out from the back offices and had taken a seat in front of you. With a requisition form requesting information about your repairs, she was quick to inform you in English that there was a wait period for someone to come and look at what was wrong with your furnace. It was her husband and her son who did the repairs, not just for the people and businesses in the village, but for others who lived on the outskirts like yourself. 

You took the form and the pen she had given you to fill out the requisition form, and while it wasn’t ideal, it was your only option. You couldn’t do this yourself; you couldn’t have possibly understood the process of fixing a wood furnace even if everything was written in English and the parts were there for you. You would have to wait; you would have to bide your time and do what you could on your own merit and on your own time. 

With no immediate remedy available, you had given the woman your thanks and handed the form off before you stood. You took your translation book with you and started heading out toward the front door, once again almost getting taken down by that same cat. You sighed just as you had before, giving the orange furry ball a pet goodbye before you left. 

************************************** 

He had no idea what drew him to the little cafe on the main street, the one that was located between the flower shop and the general store on the other side. It wasn’t as if the imposing alpha, well known in the Austrian village, was a stranger to anyone within the small, populated town. And the cafe that he found himself steadily walking toward was one that he had frequented often when he had to leave his property for supplies, however there was something in his bones that felt different. 

It was as if he was being drawn toward the bakery and cafe, pulled there by some invisible force that had taken possession of the old colonel. Whether that be an order that he was given by some unforeseen force, or one of his alpha instincts, it was a directive he could not turn down. König walked with a rushed gait toward the front entrance, his large hand yanking opens the door to step foot inside the traditional Austrian bakery with no reasonable excuse to be here. And once inside, he had taken a long and studious look around the cafe, trying to pinpoint the causality that registered as so fucking urgent in his mind. 

It seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary in this cafe, nothing that would have withhold his bodily autonomy from turning around and leaving. There were tasks that the beast of an alpha had to accomplish before he could enjoy being on a few weeks leave from the KorTac base. A distraction that had blindsided him was neither easily accepted or understood, and the patience he held for himself was deliberately thin. 

Of the catalysts that could have spurred this great invisible hand that forced him to enter the cafe like there was a fire lit under his ass, he knew it had nothing to do with the locals. It was neither the owner of the cafe and bakery nor the patrons that had all come to know him as a PMC soldier, that had been the tugging force that brought him here. And the further he had cast his attention around the counter where he would place his order, and the main sitting area, the closer he had come to the conclusion that he was wrong. 

That this was all some grave mistake, a symptom of being tired from the constant long hours and the missions that took him through hell while he was deployed. There was no cognitive to the urgency that he felt upon approaching the front door. 

He had almost turned and left, the alpha with an exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders had almost said to hell with this invisible force that had inhibited its own desires upon his autonomy. König was already shifting on his heels to turn and leave, giving up on the fool’s errand when he had caught the glimmer of someone in the corner of his eyes. 

Why he hadn’t seen this omega when he first walked into the building was almost as confounding as why he was brought here to begin with. He would have walked right past you, twice, without noticing you were there. But now that he had seen you, sitting huddled at a table near the back corner by a window, he felt that same familiar tug as before. 

Fate. An unforeseen force. Whatever fucked up alpha instinct had told him that he needed to see this particular omega, it didn’t matter in the end what the cause was. 

He was here now, and the further he was drawn toward you, the clearer it had become that something had intervened. And the further he got to this omega sitting by herself, the clearer your scent was able to be picked up amongst the mix of smells that filled the cafe. 

Your scent was soft and airy, clean and refreshing. Vanilla that was trailing lilac, and the smell of something sweet like strawberries that reminded König of the strawberry patch his mother grew back at his childhood home. Your scent was beckoning to him like a siren’s call, like you were a phantom voice that had spoken to him through the thick hedges of darkness, a light that he had never seen before but desperately wanted to touch. 

It was improbable, a fight that was building within himself over the rationality that he was just a man that had just seen a pretty girl, and the deeper part of himself that knew he was an alpha who caught hold of a scent that had spoken to him. Not that he was the kind of alpha or man who thought fate had a hand in his future, in deciding who or what was the best combination of attributes for a mate. 

But it was no accident; he had to at least admit that. 

There was something that made him come here, something that had brought him to this very spot where an omega, a young pretty omega, who he had never seen before, was sitting. And it didn’t take a genius to understand that the rumors he had heard, about a new omega moving to this small village, was one and the same now. 

König had heard the millings, the whispering conversations of a pregnant omega who was abandoned by an alpha who didn’t want her. That was you, he surmised, and given the velocity of the rumors and how they had spread, you had only been here for days. 

He had scrambled to dig into his mind for the rest of the gossip he had heard since he had been back to the village. One, of course, was that you were pregnant and single—the alpha who got you pregnant was long gone—and that you were living in the cabin that was only a few miles from his own. 

But there was more wasn’t there? What else had he heard? 

That your furnace was broken, the same kind of wood furnace that had in his own cabin, and that the list of people waiting for repair services was long. Of course, your name was on the list, but you were pregnant, and you couldn’t wait forever. 

That same urgency that led him to the cafe had also directed him toward your table, and the approach of this massive alpha in front of you had certainly taken you by surprise. Hellfire could come and consume him in the moment, swallowing him whole and burning flesh from bone and König still wouldn’t have passed—because the moment your eyes land on his, and he sees those big anxious eyes, he fucking breaks. 

He's a beast, he’s a damn monster on the battlefield who has gone after terrorists, had been shot at and hunted down. He's a colonel, a battering ram an insertion specialist, he’s handled hostage deals and has earned a reputation within korTac. 

But you, a teary-eyed omega who’s pregnant and abandoned, staring at him with those eyes, and he feels as if his heart and soul are being ripped out of his body. 

It’s almost too reminiscent of his own life, with a mother who raised a little boy on her own when his father abandoned them both. And his mother raised König with all she had, providing her big boy with everything she had to offer him, even if it meant she worked tirelessly and to the bone. 

“I’m sorry, did you want to sit here?” Your things were slightly scattered on the table, an English German translation book, pregnancy tests spilling out of your bag, a phone that was lying face up on the table, a copy of the requisition form for the repairs. A list of other things that needed to be done was written on an old yellow notepad, slipping out of your bag like the pregnancy tests, and with a sense of urgency you were trying to pick up your things. 

“You are new here.” König pulled out the chair opposite of you and sat down, his hands folded in front of him. It was comical in a series of ways, this hulking and great giant alpha sitting across from an omega that he could very well squish in body height and mass. This alpha who was a soldier from the time he was 17 or 18, looking at a younger omega with red rimmed eyes and slightly puffy cheeks from crying, pregnant and vulnerable. 

“Was it the bad German?” You were attempting to make light of the situation, either that or you were avoiding the obvious question he might have asked next, like why you were crying.  

“I haven’t heard you speak German.” Instead, his response was blunt, and he had still avoided telling you how he knew you weren’t a local. Not that it was hard to tell, you were only here a few days and people had already known your life story, or what you had told anyway. 

“You have the cabin in disrepair,” he continued speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, drawing your attention away from grabbing your things, giving him time to focus on your scent as it had started working its way under his flesh. “You need a furnace fixed.” 

“How did you..?” you were caught off guard, the surprise replacing the threat of tears that were almost ready to spill down your cheeks again.  

“I’m your neighbor, I live a few miles from you.” König had inhaled your scent, subtly trying to get more and more of it, as it seemed to want to be intertwined with his own. The older alpha had never been so drawn, so enraptured with an omega or her scent like this, and he was scrambling to come to terms with it. “I have the same wood furnace I can help fix it for you.” 

It was that same force that drove him into this place that made him speak so freely. He was no longer in control of his mind, of his tongue or his inhibitions to deny a pretty omega when she needed help. It was an urgency; it was instincts, and he was following them blindly. 

“I... what?” You were puzzled, at the very least, as your eyebrows had become furrowed and knit together on your forehead. You were staring at him with a natural cautionary glance, likely so emotionally complexed by your previous alpha that you were unsure of what to say or do around him. 

“I will fix it for you. Tomorrow.” König was out of his element and yet he still approached the problem like a leader he was. The colonel, who was used to taking matters into his own hands and commanding orders to his soldiers, was now taking charge of the situation while being led by instincts he still didn’t quite understand. “You are pregnant, you cannot have a house with no heat. I’ll fix it tomorrow.” 

He pushed his chair back and stood up from the table, giving a curt nod without waiting for confirmation or any response from you beyond the squeak of an omega. König was clear, he was going to fix this for you, despite not even knowing you, because there was a portion of himself that would not rest otherwise. 

And he was following instincts. The same instincts or invisible force, that led him here so randomly, was pushing him to help his new neighbor. By some madness or twist of fate that he might not have even believed in, he agreed anyway. 

And he would be damned if he didn’t feel weak for a little omega who reminded him of his own mother, who struggled on her own to raise him when he was a child.

[asterias-record-shop]

mommy kink dave lizewski please and thank you ? 😋 i love your work sm and would be so happy if you decided to write this !!!! 💓😖

╭════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╮

— make me a mommy

╰════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╯

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

Nympho! Reader who never wants to stop having sex after her and Dave take each other’s virginity and wants him to get her pregnant so they can start their family early. **also, lactating can start as early in a pregnancy as a few weeks

“Dave, stop it!” You whine, tugging on his shirt as he leaned over the table looking at ads that were put out saying ‘NOW HIRING’ in big letters. “We bought a house and daddy’s covering the bills for a year, you don’t need to work!”

We didn’t buy a house, your family bought a house for you both to live in. You were a daddy’s girl, and whatever you wanted, your father was surely going to get it for you no matter how much of a dent it put into his extremely deep pockets. Your father didn’t necessarily like Dave, but he didn’t necessarily dislike him either - he just wanted you to be happy.

Dave wanted you to be happy too, he really did, or he wouldn’t have proposed right after graduation. He was looking for a job so that he didn’t live up to your family's expectations of being a horrible person for you to marry. Dave truly did want you to be happy with him, and make sure your parents loved him just as much as you did - not in the same way though, of course.

"I'm almost done, baby, let me just put in this application in." Dave mumbled, inhaling as you slowly came behind him, rubbing his shoulders as you pressed soft kisses to his neck.

"Come on baby, we have stuff to get to remember? I'm ovulating and I found positions for us to try because missionary gets boring," you whispered, your hands pushing down his shirt as you looked over his shoulder at the applications. "You as a firefighter would be pretty hot."

"I don't know about that, honey," he whispered back with a sigh. "You got to go to school and training and whatever."

"What about that?" You suggest, tapping the position for an IT technician. "My daddy said they need one at his company. He can get you a good salary."

Dave shook his head, sighing. "No baby, I don't want any more handouts from your dad. I think a weapons dealer would be hot, don't you?"

You laughed, shaking your head as you tapped another square about the military. "What about that?"

"How would I be able to do that-"

"You being Kick-Ass and not having pain sensors in most of your body," you responded, giggling. "Come on, I would make an amazing military wife. Now put those up..." you pushed the magazines to the side, humming. "And come put a baby in me."

Dave swallowed as you grabbed his wrist, tugging him to your shared room as easily opened the door before jumping on the bed. "So, the article said that if I leaned over the bed a little bit, the sperm will find its way past the cervix quicker because of gravity. Do you think that's true?"

Dave blushed, shrugging. "I-I mean... gravity is real?"

You giggled, sitting up only to slip off your clothes before your stomach started to twist. You burped softly, covering your mouth before rushing to the bathroom and leaning over the toilet. You groaned loudly as you vomited into the toilet, Dave immediately following you and pulling back your hair while holding your shoulder.

For fucks sake, was this it?

When you finally stopped, he passed you a water bottle he got from your shared bedroom, watching as you swashed the water in your mouth before gurgling it and spitting it out. "David, give me a test."

"Y-Yes ma'am," he pulled out the drawer, grabbing you one of the tests as you stood and flushed the toilet, quickly doing your business and cleaning yourself up before flushing and pacing. "Y/N, honey, it's going to be okay."

"I want to be pregnant, Dave," you whisper, inhaling as you push back his hair. "I want to be pregnant with your baby, want to have so many babies with you. I want to be a mommy, Dave."

"You'll be an amazing mommy," Dave assured you, holding your hips as he stared down at your tits. They were already fuller; you had said that lactation can start as early as three weeks after talking to your gynecologist. "Such an amazing mommy."

You paused, looking down at your tits with a slight smile. "Do you want to see if it's... happening?"

He blushed, shaking his head. "I-I don't... I don't think that's right, honey."

"Why does it matter? They're not born yet, they don't need it," you whisper, smiling as you looked back. "Shall we see if it's true?"

"Of course."

You turned around and gasped, squealing. "I'm pregnant!"

Holy shit.

You jumped into his open arms, giggling as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, Dave spinning you around in excitement. "We're going to be parents! You're going to be a mommy, holy shit," Dave laughed as you stroked his cheeks. "You're going to be the most amazing mommy ever."

"And you're going to be the best daddy ever," you giggled, smiling as his hands ghost the sides of your tummy, eyes trained on your pretty tits. "Want to see if it's happening? We could celebrate with it."

"What, are you going to be my mommy too?" He teased, watching as your cheeks started to tint, smiling down at him. "Oh."

"Well come on. I'm going to be a mommy soon, I should get used to someone calling me that."

Maybe that's how you got here, Dave sucking on your tits as his hips rutted uncontrollably against yours, desperate to be deeper inside of you. "F-Fuck mommy, fuck, you taste so good, I need more."

You were so out of it, your hips unconsciously bucking into his in desperation to cum, to get that high as his hands paw at your tits, squeezing and letting his thumbs glide over your nipples. "I-It's early, Dave, maybe there's not much!"

He had been sucking and pinching, making you cum at least three times just from his work on your tits, oversensitivity flooding your entire body. Every thrust he made had you seeing white, every slide of his thumbs along your hard, pebbled nipple making your eyes roll back, each drag of his cock along your walls and his tip hitting what felt like your cervix.

"You said constant stimulation will make it produce more, right? Please, please mommy, I need more," he groaned, cursing when none was squeezed out of your tit. "Fuck!"

"D-Dave, there's no more, fuck! Just wait, wait a few minutes." You whimpered, staring down at your swollen nipples, gasping when he pulled it back into his mouth.

"Just a little longer, mommy? Please?"

You inhaled, sighing. "Okay."

What kind of mom would you be if you said no, hm?

Taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪   𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪   𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪   𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪   𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪  𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪   𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪   𓆩[@c78r]𓆪   𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪   𓆩[@copypastedaphne]𓆪   𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪   𓆩[@xoxomoonlightbabe]𓆪   𓆩[@f-aggotry]𓆪

© asterias-record-shop

[mistress-skywalker]

Worlds Collide: An Anakin Skywalker love-story

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

☄︎ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 - 𝐀 𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ☄︎

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

CW: Mentions of injuries and a little bit of blood from minor wounds. Use of y/n (gasp!), implications of a fem reader

AN: I’m so excited to write a multi chapter fic! Obviously some things are changed from the canon Star Wars lore to better fit what I write. I’ve got about ten chapters as of now, it’s possible it’ll change as I edit and proofread things though. This might be a little long. I’ll try to regularly post chapters as well. Hope you all enjoy! <3

||Chapter 2||

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　

"Kriff! C'mon, pull up pull up!" Anakin exclaims in a panic as he tries last minute attempts to not crash, monitors and sensors beeping loudly with error codes. His efforts are futile and his ship plummets down through the atmosphere, through the treetops and crash lands in a small clearing of trees.

The loud sound is able to be heard clearly from where you lay in bed watching tv. Looking out your window, you can only see smoke. It might not be smart but without thinking, you slip some shoes on quickly and a sweatshirt on over your pajamas, grabbing your phone to use as a flashlight and set out towards the source.

The ship starts to smoke from it all. He manages to unbuckle himself, crawling out of the rubble. He's dealt with worse injuries but Maker is he dizzy and not so steady on his feet. He sinks down to sit on the ground, sighing as he rests his head against his compromised ship.

"What am I gonna do?" He huffs.

Getting closer you can make out what seems to be some sort of ship of some kind. And then you hear groaning. You peek around a tree at the clearing and see a man there. You take another step to see better but your foot lands on a on a branch and makes it snap.

Anakin's head snaps up from the sharp and distinguishable sound of a branch snapping.

He tenses and his hands shift down to his waist to grab his lightsaber but finds it missing. He must have lost it in the commotion.

"Who's there?" He calls out, staring hard into the trees to try and get a gauge of where the noise may have come from.

You gasp softly hearing the voice. He heard you. Quickly you hide behind a tree without answering.

His eyes scan his surroundings warily, taking in any small movement. He gets to his feet, taking a few steps across the clearing, a soft wince escaping him as the movement makes all his muscles protest.

"I know you're out there. I know you're hiding." He calls, taking another small step closer, using a tree to steady himself.

Your breathing gets heavier and you contemplate your options. You worry that he could hurt you, your heart jackhammering in your chest. You turn the flashlight off of your phone and hold it to your chest, praying to whatever deity is up there to keep you safe.

"You're really not making this easy on yourself." He huffs, taking another step closer. He can vaguely see a figure through the shadows. He senses your fear and tension with ease.

He had grown to be very adept to sensing people's emotions as he was a powerful Force user after all. He takes in a breath, inhaling the air, the adrenaline in your body obvious to his senses.

"Come out. It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you." He says slowly, voice soft and steady but still firm, as he keeps shifting closer to you, the grass under his feet crunching faintly with each step.

You take another shaky breath before stepping out from behind the tree. Finally you can take in everything and him. Oh. He's...gorgeous. Almost unreal. Ethereal. You swallow thickly, shaking before him.

He finally gets a good look at you as you step out of the shadows. He pauses once you step out, eyes falling over your form, and he feels his mouth dry. His gaze roams over your features; the freckles dusted across your cheeks reminding him of the constellations he’s seen in person. He lets out a shaky breath as he processes that kriff you're beautiful. He'd never seen a someone like you before, not in all his 27 years of life.

In fact, he'd never seen a human on Earth at all. He can literally feel a tug from the connection between you and him. There's an inexplicable force that draws you both together to be together. Like a string tied to the ends of your hearts, pulling you towards each other.

He holds up his hands, palms facing you in a placating manner seeing your fear hasn't eased. "Easy, take it easy. I'm not going to hurt you. Can you come a bit closer?" He coaxes, tone gentle and eyes searching you closely.

That some pull he feels, you feel but the Force isn't a thing on earth. Nobody knows about it even so you can only assume it's some kind of weird anxiety. You take another small and shaky step closer towards him like he asks. Being this close though you can see the various cuts and bumps on his face.

"You're hurt.." you observe, breathing out.

His gaze softens as he notices how nervous you appear. He hates that you seem so scared but what does he expect? He landed in your backyard in a burning ship from the sky, which is something you likely have never witnessed in your life. He notices you looking over his injuries, and he lets out a scoff, waving a hand to downplay them. "This? It's nothing." He replies back, a lopsided smile gracing his face, and he ignores the slight throb in his side, which likely has a couple broken ribs.

You shake your head, watching as he sways on his feet now that the initial adrenaline of the crash and hearing you is wearing off.

"You look ready to pass out. Let me help you." You offer. Is that stupid? Only two seconds ago you came across him and are already willing to help him?

He leans his back against the tree behind him to keep himself from toppling over. He can feel himself getting more lightheaded by the second and your small form offering to help him is more than welcome. Although, he's a little confused why you aren't running away from him screaming or something. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, running a hand through his hair before opening his eyes to look at you again. "I don't suppose you'd have anything to fix my ribs?" He asks, tone a bit sarcastic.

You chuckle a bit at that but shake your head.

"Unfortunately no, but i can call an ambulance or drive you to the hospital myself. They can call whoever you need to pick you up too."

He blinks at your statement, a wave of confusion going through him but he quickly recovers and shakes his head. "No, no ambulances or hospitals. I'll be alright.”

The last thing he needs is anyone else to find him or getting poked around at a hospital for the next several hours. He just needs a place to rest and have some peace. "Listen, I don't suppose you would be willing to give me a place to stay for the night, would you?" He asks, looking down at you.

You blink up at him in confusion almost. No hospital? After falling out of the sky? You tilt your head in question.

"Are you sure that's all? I really don't mind taking you to the hospital to get you checked out and sent home?"

Again Anakin shakes his head, dismissing your concern for him. He didn't have time or energy to be sitting at a hospital and waiting to be treated. Plus, what was he supposed to say if they asked questions about him? ‘Well, you see, my ship was attacked and shot down here and I'm stranded on your planet from another galaxy.' Yeah, that would go great. Instead, he just gives you a small lop-sided smile, leaning further into the tree. "I'm sure. The most I need is some rest."

You sigh a little and shake your head, noticing how he continues to lean against the tree as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. "I really think you should get seen by someone. The most I can do is clean you up a little." It's a protest not an offer.

He can feel a soft pang in his chest when you fret over him. He wasn't used to being taken care of and it wasn't very common for him to have anyone care about him either. Yet you were a complete stranger and you seemed to be genuinely concerned for him and his wellbeing. He lets out a soft scoff with an eye roll at your protest. "Fine, fine. You can at least clean me up a bit. That's about all I'll agree to."

Your eyebrows pull together and you start to shake your head again. "I...that wasn't really an offer but an attempt to sway your decision."

He raises an eyebrow at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest, before he instantly regretted doing the small action as his ribs ached in protest. He lets out a quiet huff and leans his weight against the tree again. "And I'm going to say no again. No hospitals," He replies firmly. Although, his tired look and the obvious pain he's in says otherwise. "I just need someplace to get cleaned up and rest for a while. That's it."

You sigh softly. It wouldn't do much good to stay here and argue with him. You nod your head. "Alright alright fine. Let me help you back to my place okay? No hospitals, I promise."

He lets out a deep sigh, somewhat glad you're giving in and dropping the hospital thing. He nods slowly before taking a stumbling step away from the tree, immediately feeling his body protest at moving. "Kriff, I feel like hell." He winces as he takes another step.

Instinctively you reach for him when he winces. "Here, hold onto me. It might help a bit at least." You say reach for his hand and placing it on your shoulder.

Slowly you start to lead him through the trees and to your place. Was this stupid? This was probably stupid. A random man emerges from a crashed ship and you bring him back home? This isn't one of your fantasy romance novels.

His hand rests on your shoulder, and he tries to not lean all his weight on you as you guide him with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. He feels the need to protest you helping him, to tell you he doesn't need it, but your form is helping him a lot. Plus, being so close to you and having some sort of contact with you does provide him with a certain relief as something deep within him tells him that you're safe and he can trust you.

You don't know what it was but something was telling you that he was safe to trust as well. Was it his aura? It's a warmth you haven't felt before and it's kinda tingly even? The trek doesn't take too much longer before you’re leading him up the porch and into your small home.

You lead him over to the couch, "Easy," you help ease him onto it, having him lay back because of his ribs. He shuffles over to the couch with your help and sinks down into it, letting out a small breath as he lets his muscles finally relax on the soft cushion. "Sorry I wasn't expecting company today." You say moving a couple items out of the way.

He glances around at your home, looking at the various trinkets and decorations that fill the small home. He watches you shift some items out of the way and he lets out a scoff. "Trust me, I wasn't expecting to be here either." He replies back, a small hint of humor laced in his words.

You let out a bit of a laugh at that and nod once. Not too many people would expect to crash land. You go to your small kitchen that's visible from the living room and get him a glass of water.

You come back and hand it to him with some pain killers. "I'll go find a first aid kit."

He thanks you softly and tosses back the painkillers, washing it down with the water. He sets the glass down on the small side table next to couch before glancing over at you as you wander off. Despite the exhaustion he feels, his eyes wander over your body, taking in every soft curve and every perfect angle, his eyes lingering on your hips and rear before he glances away quickly, feeling a little guilty for letting his thoughts go to such places so quickly. He still couldn't believe how nice and kind you were being to him. A total stranger. One that literally landed from the sky. He couldn't fathom why you were so willing to help him.

You reemerge from the bathroom after a couple moments with a first aid kit. His gaze lands on you as you emerge from the bathroom with the first aid kit and he can't help but notice your nervous expression.

You walk over to him on the couch, hesitating for a moment. "I uh...you mind if I sit...so I can clean you up..?" You ask nervously gesturing towards the edge of the couch.

He gives you a gentle and reassuring smile before shifting to make room on the couch. "Go right ahead," He encourages, giving you a small nod.

You nod once and thank him softly before perching on the edge of the cushion. He watches as you perch on the edge of the couch, so close to him. He feels his heart skip a beat just from your proximity to him but he tries to push down the feeling.

You set the first aid kit on your lap and open it, rummaging through it for everything you’ll need.

You put some antibiotics on a cotton ball and start to bring it towards the cut on his forehead. "Um...this might sting a bit." You warn before starting to dab at the wound.

Anakin nods his head once to acknowledge your warning but he can't help but wince slightly when the cotton ball dabs at the cut. He lets out a soft his as the stinging pain spreads through his forehead and he tries not to jerk away from your touch.

He takes a deep breath to help ease the pain a bit and lets his eyes flutter shut. He feels your small, soft hands on him and he has to fight the urge to lean into your touch. He can't remember the last time someone touched him so gently.

"Sorry..." You murmur knowing it stings. You blow softly on that spot to help ease some of the stinging. "Good news though...it's not deep enough for stitches," You say before removing the cotton ball and picking out one of the butterfly suture bandages and place it on the forehead wound.

A shiver of warmth runs down his spine as you blow on the cut on his forehead, almost like a soothing salve to the burn of the medicine. He feels the pressure of the butterfly bandage against his skin, and he opens his eyes, turning his head slightly to look at you.

He studies your features intently as you work on him. He notes the small wrinkle that appears on your brow as you concentrate and the little pout of your lips when you're focusing. How could one person be so beautiful? So...perfect?

You don't notice his eyes studying you as you reach for a new cotton ball, putting fresh antibacterial on it and dabbing at a cut on his lip.

He lets out a small breath as you dab the cut above the corner of his mouth, shifting a bit as he tries not to flinch from the stinging pain once again. Despite the stinging though, he relishes as your touch and he can feel his heartbeat pick up slightly at your proximity. He can't help but be mesmerized by how focused you are on tending to his cuts and injuries, and how your eyes are concentrated on the task at hand. He can't help but notice your own plump lips as you focus on your work.

When he pulls back you instantly reach back out with your other hand to cup his chin and keep him in place. It's firm but gentle. You keep focused on tending to his cuts on his face. "I know it sucks but you gotta stay still unless you'd rather the hospital." It's a mostly empty threat.

He is slightly taken aback by how quickly and firmly you place your hand on his chin and keep his head still. He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes meeting yours momentarily as you continue to tend to his injuries. He can't help but notice the hint of possessiveness in your touch and he has to fight the feeling of warmth that spreads through him at your grip.

He lets out a gruff chuckle in response to your empty threat. The last thing he wants is to end up in a hospital. "I think I can stay still if it means not having to go to a hospital."

The corners of your lips quirk up in a small smirk, chuckling softly. "Glad to hear it." You finish taking care of his facial wounds before pulling back.

He watches as you lean back, your hand removing itself from his chin, which leaves him feeling strangely cold and empty without it. He can't help but let out a soft huff at being deprived of that contact and he silently hopes you'll touch him again soon.

He clears his throat softly, breaking the silence. "I gotta say, you're pretty damn good at patching someone up. You a nurse by any chance?"

You start putting everything back into the first aid kit and shake your head. "No...just have experience patching myself up." You answer casually. "As for your ribs, there's not much I can do for those."

His eyebrow quirks in question as you mention patching yourself up, his eyes searching your face to see if you're joking or not. When he can tell you're serious, his face softens slightly, sympathy filling his expression. He mentally debates whether he should ask or not about your past injuries. His focus shifts to his ribs and he nods his head slightly in acknowledgment when you say you can't do much for them. His hand gently brushes against the tender area, eliciting a wince from him. "Yeah...l figured as much."

You look over at him, your face changing to one of concern hearing him wince. "I can get you a cold compress at least?"

He nods his head at your suggestion of a cold compress, thinking that it would help ease the pain at least a little bit. He shifts awkwardly on the couch, trying to find a more comfortable position, but failing immensely because of his ribs.

He lets out another wince before running a hand down his face in frustration. He glances over at you, giving you a small, half-hearted smile, trying to play off how much he actually hurts because he could see how concerned you were for him despite being a complete stranger. "Anything would be appreciated at this point."

You nod, still concerned and set the first aid kit down on the coffee table before pushing to your feet and going back to the kitchen.

You come back a few moments later with a bag of frozen peas for him to use as a compress. "Here, lay back and then use this."

He accepts the bag of frozen peas from you when you return and glances between it and you, realizing that you used it as an impromptu compress. He can't help but chuckle softly, thinking about how absurd this whole situation was.

He does as you say though and lays back, shifting a little to get more comfortable before gently placing the bag of peas over his ribs, letting out a soft sigh of relief as the cold helps soothe the throbbing pain a bit. "Much better, thank you."

"Of course, not a problem. Just glad I could help in some way." How were you this concerned for a stranger and willing to take care of them? Either way you felt comfortable with him already, his presence alone was warm.

He can't help but chuckle softly, amused by how naturally caring you were to him despite him being some stranger that suddenly crash landed in your yard. Maybe it was just your nature to help people.

He glances up at you, noticing the way you fuss over him and make sure he's as comfortable as he can be in his current condition. A pang of something unfamiliar fills his chest when he thinks about the fact that you're such a caring person, but it's not like he’ll be hanging around for too long once his ship is fixed.

You refill his glass of water and set it back down on the coffee table in his reach. "I uh... is it alright if I ask your name?"

He nods once in thanks as you refill his glass with more water and he takes a long sip from it, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat. He glances in your direction at your question and he hesitates for a moment. He thought it was a bit surprising that you hadn't asked his name yet when he was crashing on your couch in your living room.

He sets the glass of water down before answering you, a slight smile on his face. "It's Anakin. Anakin Skywalker."

His name was unique. Definitely. "Anakin..." you repeat his name, testing it out. "I like that. It's unique...but I gotta say your last name is wrong. It shouldn't be Skywalker. It should be SkyFALLER." As soon as it leaves your mouth you regret it and cringe. "Sorry that was awful. I'm (Y/N). And bad jokes are my strong suit."

He can't help but bark out a laugh but wincing immediately from his injured ribs, clearly amused by the joke, bad or not. To him it was funny and he couldn't help but be amused by your sarcastic sense of humor.

He grins at you, his eyes sparkling in humor now as he recovers from laughing. "That's a good one."

He repeats your name in return, just like you did. It was just as unique as his. "(Y/N)."

The corners of your lips quirk up as he laughs. At least he appreciates your awful joke. Hearing your name on his tongue gives you goosebumps. You nod. "Yep. That's my name.”

He can't help but notice the small, subtle sign that he had an effect on you, the way your skin prickled at the sound of your name on his lips. It sends a small shiver of satisfaction down his spine and he has to hold himself back from saying your name again, just to watch the reaction. He doesn't though, trying to be respectful of the fact that you are practically a stranger who is simply being very gracious to him.

He smiles. "Well, it's nice to meet you, (Y/N)."

You fight off the shiver that threatens to run through you hearing your name on his lips again. You smile back at him. "It's nice to meet you too, Anakin."

He smiles, his gaze lingering on your face for several moments, just studying your features. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. He could think of several more colorful ways to describe you such as beautiful or striking, but they sounded so simple and didn't quite do you justice.

He shifted slightly, wincing again from the pain in his side and he cleared his throat softly. "So, this is gonna sound weird, but... where am I? I mean, what planet am I on?"

Your eyebrows furrow at the question. He could remember his name but not the planet? Because the idea of someone coming from space, let alone a completely different galaxy, is absurd to you and not the first assumption. So you figure he has a concussion. "Um…..Earth…..you're on Earth," you stand up and place the back of your hand to his forehead checking his temperature. "You might have a concussion if you don't remember what planet you live on."

He's a bit taken aback by your reaction at first, expecting you to laugh at him or tell him that he's crazy. But instead, instead you actually think that he has amnesia or something, checking his temperature for a fever. He swallows at the feeling of your hand against his skin. He frowns and moves your hand away from his forehead, shaking his head. "No, I know what planet I live on. I'm not concussed."

Your lips downturn into a frown of your own at his response. Signing you look at him inquisitively. "I don't understand...l definitely think we need to get you to a hospital now. You might have a concussion.”

He lets out an exasperated huff, clearly annoyed by the fact that you keep trying to force him to go to a hospital. He wants as little to do with a hospital as possible. "I don't need a hospital. I'm fine," he replies irritably. "Just...answer my question. Is Earth in the Mid Rim or Outer Rim? Or is it part of the Unknown Regions?"

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion. "What? I don't know what any of those are, you aren't making sense. Earth is in the Milky Way Galaxy and the third planet from the sun."

He lets out a grunt of frustration as he realizes that you don't even know what the Mid Rim, Outer Rim, or Unknown Regions are. He's beginning to doubt that you know of anything beyond your own planet. He rubs his temples in irritation, trying to think of how to explain things to you.

"Have you ever heard of the galaxy being divided by something called the 'Core Worlds', the 'Mid Rim', or the 'Outer Rim', or the 'Unknown Regions?"

That only serves to add to your confusion, your eyebrows drawing together even tighter. You shake your head slowly. "No. Absolutely not."

Anakin lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand down his face. How was he supposed to explain to you that he's from a completely different galaxy when you didn't even have a concept of what the galaxy was or how it was divided? He's almost dumbfounded that you've never even heard of the different sections of the galaxy before. A small part of sections of the galaxy before. A small part of him wonders just how isolated your planet actually is from the rest of the star systems out there. This was going to be a very long night it seemed.

He decides to try a different approach, speaking slowly and as calmly as he could muster given the circumstances. "This might sound crazy, but...do you believe in the existence of aliens?"

You chuckle a little at that. It seemed like such an outlandish question. "I think the universe is too big to only have life on one planet. So I believe in the concept of life on other planets. Aliens I guess. But do I think they're little green men with black eyes? No."

He huffed and rolled his eyes at your answer. You clearly had no idea just how advanced and diverse aliens in the other systems of the galaxy were. He could think of dozens of different alien species he'd come in contact with that would give you a heart attack simply based on their looks alone.

"They don't look like little green men with black eyes," he replies, "They look like anything you can imagine and more. All different species. Different sizes. Different skin colors. Different appearances. You name it."

You nod your head among slowly. "I figured if they exist that they'd be diverse," you respond with a shrug. Not too many humans concern themselves with the thought but you’ve always found it interesting. "Hang on. What are you getting at?"

He can't help but give a bitter laugh at your question. Of course you'd find the whole situation and idea of aliens interesting. But he had to be careful and choose his words strategically so that it didn't sound like he was insane.

"I'm getting at the fact that l'm not from your galaxy. At all. I have no idea where Earth is in relation to what you know of the galaxy. I'm actually not sure how you've never heard of any of the galactic systems either."

Your eyes widen a little at that revelation and you blink at him. "Huh." You exhale, taking a couple steps back to sit in the armchair. Suddenly you’re the unsteady one. It's absurd but for some reason you don't think he's lying. What reason does he have to? "If that's true...how did you even end up here then?"

He leans back a bit on the couch, a look of mild annoyance on his face as he struggles to explain all this to you in a way that won't make him sound insane or too complicated. He watches you take a few steps back to the armchair, noticing that the revelation of him not being of your planet had clearly rattled you a bit. He could hardly blame you though. It was a tough thing to believe. "I was on my ship, minding my own business, and I got caught up in some kind of...energy storm. And then my whole ship shut down." He frowns as he recounts the events from earlier. "Next thing I know I end up crash landing in your backyard."

"An energy storm..." you repeat back quietly, letting this all sink in, trying to process it all mentally. "But why were you all the way out here if you don't even know where in the galaxy you are?"

He can hear the doubt and skepticism in your voice and he can't help but scoff at the question. He doesn't appreciate it at all, being doubted by a citizen of some backwater planet who knows nothing of galactic systems or the Jedi Order.

"I was on a scouting mission. Exploring an unknown system for resources for the Republic," he replies bluntly, his irritation very apparent as his annoyance begins to slowly grow.

You don't mean to upset him, you’re trying to understand it all. You’re not doubting him. "And that system was this one?"

He lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head and clenching his jaw. He's not angry at you, but more so frustrated by the whole situation. It only makes him wish more and more that the crash hadn't ever happened. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

"No, obviously not. This system wasn't on any of our star charts," he mutters with an irritated huff. "But the storm ripped a hole in some part of space and now I'm stuck on your planet until my ship's engine is repaired."

You nod slowly as it processes. It's quiet for a moment. You believe him. "Is that why you're wearing a dress?"

Surprise and confusion washes over him at the sudden and abrupt change in subject from aliens and galaxies to dresses. His eyes widen and he looks down at his clothes, realizing that you must be referring to his Jedi robes.

"This is my Jedi attire," he responds, gesturing down at his clothes. "It's what the Jedi wear to honor our order and traditions."

"Oh...'m sorry.....Jesus Christ..is that your race? I didn't mean to offend you." You quickly hurry out, your cheeks turning pink.

He can't help but let out a surprised snort of laughter at your question. He watches your cheeks turn pink as you attempt to apologize to him for offending him. He's definitely amused but mostly by the fact that you're actually concerned for offending him. "No, it's not my race," he replies, shaking his head and still chuckling softly. "I'm human, just like you. I'm a jedi, a member of the Jedi Order. An ancient peace keeping order."

It all sounds so out there, surely you’re dreaming and that's why you’re rolling with it. "So you're a solider?"

He nods, feeling a small stab of irritation at being thought of as a mere soldier. He's a General, one of the youngest and most respected and powerful Generals in the entire Republic, but he doesn't bother correcting you. He's not sure how you'd react to knowing that he's responsible for hundreds of thousands of men and has basically been a war hero for the last 3 years of his young life. "Yes, of sorts. A high ranking General for the Republic."

Your eyebrows raise. At least you know he could protect you if need be. Maybe you smoked too much and passed out and this is some weird weed induced dream.

"Wow..." you breathe out, pretty impressed. "So then you aren't an alien? Or are you still?"

He can't help but roll his eyes internally at your question unable tell if you're being serious or not, or if you're just completely delusional and still having a hard time grasping the concept that he is a human from a different galaxy with different planets and systems than you do. "No, I'm not an alien," he repeats with a huff of annoyance. "I'm human just like you like I already said. The only difference between us is the fact that I'm from a much more advanced civilization."

Jesus. This was so cool and fascinating at the same time but also quite intimidating. "Sorry for asking so many questions...I’m just trying to understand this all... always believed the universe was bigger than what Earth scientists have discovered so this is just...wow..."

Anakin can see the awe and fascination on your face as you try to process, understand, and make sense of it all. Despite the situation, he can't help but find it rather endearing in a way. You're so innocent and clueless about the galaxy and everything he's seen and know. He can't help but feel almost protective of you. He can't help but shake his head and laugh a little. "It's fine, ask whatever you want. I know humans are still incredibly primitive at this point and don't know a lot about the galaxy. Especially not the different systems and other planets out there. Besides l'a ask questions too if I were in your position."

You nod your head in thanks, letting out a breath. You think for a moment. "I have many questions but I don't want to bombard you like this so soon and especially in your state."

He sighs softly, leaning back into the couch and closing his eyes for a moment as a wave of exhaustion washes over him. He's been running on adrenaline and stubbornness up until now but he's starting to feel the effects of the crash and the exertion of the day. "Don't worry about 'bombarding' me. If your questions are sincere then I don't mind answering them. I... probably won't get much sleep tonight anyway."

You sigh softly and shake your head, pushing yourself up from the chair. "Let me at least help you get more comfortable."

He raises an eyebrow, looking up at you as you stand from your chair. He feels a pang of guilt over the fact that you've been so welcoming and kind to him when he's a complete stranger from another galaxy and he's been kind of rude. He doesn't feel he deserves your kindness. He doesn't even protest though. He's too tired and sore and too much in need of someone's touch, even if he won't vocalize that he's craving it. As stubborn and prideful as he is, he can't deny the fact that he wouldn't mind some gentle, caring reassurance. Especially from you.

"Fine," he mumbles, letting out a silent sigh, clearly exhausted.

You get up, heading down the hall to the linen closet and dig out a couple extra pillows and a blanket.

He watches you as you walk down the hall, feeling weirdly vulnerable and dependent in a way. He's not used to this. He's a high ranking General in the Order and the Republic. He doesn't have to need anyone for anything. Yet he's sitting here on a civilian's couch on a primitive planet, depending on you to get him comfortable and even going so far as to change out of the clothes that he'll be sleeping in. He swallows his pride as he mentally chides himself.

You come back out with the extra pillows, "Do you have layers on?"

"Yeah, there's layers," he mutters.

"You can take everything but your under layer off and I can wash the blood and dirt from your robes so they're clean in the morning."

He contemplates your suggestion for a moment before letting out a small huff of resignation. You were right. His clothes were dirty, his robes needed to be washed. He was in no condition to protest or argue. He nods his head and stands from the couch, swaying on his feet for a moment as his head spins and dizziness washes over him. Damn, he really was more weary than he'd realized.

"Fine," he mutters, as he attempts to remove his outer layer and belt.

You notice how he's still unsteady. "I-would you like help?" You ask gently not wanting him to feel forced.

He huffs softly, a wave of embarrassment and irritation washing over him at the thought of having to ask for your help. His pride is taking a real beating tonight. He's a damn General, he shouldn't have to ask for your help. But on the other hand he's so tired and the events of the evening were catching up to him, making him dizzier by the second. He sighs and looks up at you, feeling his resolve crumble a little. "Yes," he mumbles, reluctantly.

You step towards him. "Just let me know if I hurt you at all or if you get uncomfortable." You say softly before starting with his belt first that's over everything.

He looks down at you, watching as you step towards him. It takes everything in him to make himself stand there still, allowing you to remove his clothes. He hates this feeling. Feeling weak in front of you and needing your help. He can't remember ever being this vulnerable and dependent on someone else. It's strange and he doesn't like it. But at the same time, your hand brushing against him, your touch being so gentle makes him shiver a bit. He swallows thickly and nods, trying to push aside that shiver. "Okay..." he mutters.

Oblivious to his reaction, you keep going feeling almost as awkward as he does. You try to just focus on getting it done. You set his utility belt down on the coffee table and then slip his leather lapels off before getting to his main robe. You ease that off of him before slipping his long sleeve shirt off gingerly, taking care to not over exert him or brush against his ribs. You leave him in his pants and his under compression shirt before helping him out of his boots.

Despite his internal struggle at feeling weak, he can't deny the fact that a wave of relief and gratitude washes through him as you gently take off all of his clothes. He shivers again as you slip the last layer of clothing off, as he's only in his pants and compression shirt.

"There," you help him to lay down again on the couch.

He lays down on the couch, letting out a little sigh as you help him lay down. "Thanks," he mutters, feeling his eyelids grow heavier as you pull a blanket over him.

You nod gently, feeling better that you were able to help him in some way. As if cleaning his wounds and giving him a place to crash wasn't enough. After pulling a blanket over him, you help work a pillow behind him.

"I brought you a couple extra pillows just incase you wanted to prop yourself up more."

He watches you as you pull pillows over for him to prop up or rest his head on. He can feel the exhaustion really setting in now like a ton of bricks. His body is sore all over and his eyelids are getting heavier by the second. He's honestly ready to pass out but he fights it, stubbornly trying to stay awake for a few more minutes while you're still here with him. "Yeah, 'll probably need those..." he mutters, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Again you nod, about to gather his dirty clothes to leave him be. But before you’re able to leave your cat jumps up onto the couch with him. The first time he's seen a cat.

He almost jumps in surprise as your cat jumps up onto the couch and climbs all over his lap. He looks down at it in confusion, his eyebrows arching slightly. The animal is purring loudly and rubbing its head against his legs and hands. He's never seen anything like it. He reaches his prosthetic hand out to touch it gently.

"What is this..?" he asks, looking up at you, clearly completely bewildered at this animal on his lap.

You turn back to look at him, eyebrows quirked up slightly as you gather his dirty clothes into your hand. You chuckle softly seeing his confusion over your black cat. "That's a cat. My cat. His name is Loki."

He's still completely bewildered, letting out a huff of annoyance as you chuckle while he's clearly clueless about this animal on his lap. But the annoyance doesn't linger long as the cat starts to paw at his prosthetic hand, sniffing it and licking it curiously. To be honest he's a bit amused at the little animal's antics. He looks back up at you as you tell him the cat's name. "Loki..? What kind of a name is that?" he grumbles, running his gloved metal fingers gently over the cat's back.

Your cheeks turn a little pink over his question about the name, feeling a little embarrassed. But it's sweet watching your cat take to him so quickly and easily.

"It's a character from a comic book series." You answer him. "He seems to like you though... and he doesn't like new people. Especially men."

He watches as the cat kneads its paws against his lap and nuzzles its head against his prosthetic hand, clearly trying to get comfortable. He can feel the animal's purring and he has to admit it's pretty soothing. The way the cat seems to be so comfortable around him is actually strangely reassuring He looks back up at you as you confirm that the cat doesn't usually like new people, especially men. He raises an eyebrow in mild surprise at your words. Interesting...

"Is that right?" he asks, still running his metal fingers over the cat's soft fur.

You nod in confirmation. It was an endearing site. "Mhm, it is. But if he's bothering you I can keep him in my room for the night?"

He shakes his head almost immediately, surprising you and himself in the process. He actually doesn't mind the animal on his lap, in fact he finds its presence strangely soothing. Despite the fact that he's a little sore it seems that Loki is claiming ownership of his lap, almost like the cat has completely taken over. "No, it's alright. You don't have to move him. It's... fine," he says quietly, refusing to admit that he actually likes the cat's presence.

Your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise but you nod. "Okay...just making sure..." you respond gently. "Um...is there anything else you need?"

He shakes his head, shifting on the couch a bit to rest against the pillows propping him up. He can feel the exhaustion getting heavier and heavier with every passing minute. His eyes are slowly falling shut as the cat on his lap purrs and makes itself comfortable and cozy, nuzzling its head into his metal hand. He's surprised at himself how much he's enjoying the little creature's presence. He lets out a low huff, his eyelids slowly fluttering closed.

"No...I'm fine," he mutters tiredly, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper.

You nod again just once, watching as he seems to relax significantly. "Alright...well holler if you need anything, the bathroom is the second door on the left..."

He nods his head, trying to give you some sort of response to let you know that he heard you but it's becoming obvious that he's fighting a losing battle against the exhaustion. He's completely exhausted to the point where he's already nodding off to sleep. The only thing keeping him partially awake is the cat on his lap and the fact that you're still there in the same room as him. He lets out a weary sigh as he struggles to keep his eyes open. "Yeah...will do..." he mumbles, his eyelids already dropping shut again.

You feel guilty and like you’vebeen frustrating him all night despite helping him. "Right..goodnight." You respond quietly before flicking the light switch off and heading down the hall. You throw his clothes in the washer before going to your own bedroom for the night, shutting the door.

With the lights out, the little home is quiet and peaceful, he suddenly feels a bit of disappointment wash over him. The realization that you had just left him all on his own in the living room, even if with the company of your cat on his lap, suddenly hits him like a ton of durasteel. His eyes open wide for a moment as the realization settles in. Was he really disappointed that you left him all alone?

That's weird and completely unexpected, especially considering the fact that he doesn't even know you.

His breathing eventually slowly grows steady and even as he falls asleep for the first time in days. It's not the most comfortable sleep either, considering that he's lying on someone else's couch and he's still in constant pain because of his wounds and the injuries he sustained from the crash. But at least he's finally asleep. He doesn't know if it helps or not, but before he falls asleep he finds himself wishing you were still with him, in the room with him.

“Focus, Anakin,” He mentally scolds himself. “Fix the ship and leave as soon as possible.” He huffs and tries to get comfortable. It wasn’t the first time he was stranded on an alien planet so it shouldn’t be anything new this time, right?

˚　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦ ˚

[wifetomegatron]

an alchemy of ore & eu de parfum : how i imagine cybertronians react to human perfume (afab!reader) (nsfw!)

most of the lost light crew only knew about it in passing. rumor was that before the war, the wealthy would import organic plants from off-worlds to extract their oils: steam distillation, boiling, maceration. of course, it wasn't very popular when the planet's atmosphere lacked the proper gases. without volatile elements in the air like oxygen, the exotic scents hardly smelled like anything. it didn't stick against their armors the way it clings onto organic skin. so it became a short-lived experiment that barely dented the surface of the planet's long history of achievements. mechs, trying to replicate organic perfume. it sounded ridiculous.

until perceptor caught a whiff of it: phantom light, brushing against his olfactory sensors. he lifted his helm, finally compelled to tear his optics away from the datapad to look at the human liaison. he inhaled experimentally, failing to be discreet. embarrassed, you tell him it's the new bottle of body wash you've tried: a mixture of wild violets and pink hibiscus. do you like it?  he thinks of strange fragile flowers, drifting under the wind. perceptor nearly missed the question, slowly nodding as you leaned closer in worry. it took the mech a lot of self-restraint to not pull you flush against him when the new, alien fragrance hits him square in the chassis like a bullet.

minimus drags his human's wrist across his intake, peppering light kisses along the skin. it was where the sweet, smoky odor was strongest, luring him closer. with you sprawled across his lap: trembling, laughing at the ticklish sensation, minimus couldn't contain the small, helpless groan that escaped him. shamelessly tipping your chin down to press your lips against his. the fragrance of mandarin and jasmine, crowding the space between your bodies.  the scientist hovered above your shoulders, mouthguard grazing the junction where your neck meets your jaw. brainstorm tightened his grip against your wrists, pining it above your head. he wants to melt into you, to drown in the overwhelming scent of amber. tyrax, benzoin; he knows they're just a cluster of chemical reactions coming to life along the curve of your collarbones. bonds breaking and fracturing to release something tangy, saccharine. but you're telling him that bulgarian rose, sandalwood — foreign, outlandish names of floras he'd never heard about before was making you smell celestial ? he was the universe's biggest heathen, but primus, save him. you were wiggling underneath his frame, back flat against the pristine table. he says he wants to run a few experiments, noticing how your pupils respond by widening, skin prickling with excitement. 

he's trying to be gentle, servos encasing your hip to lower you down his spike. megatron watches as you take him, inch by inch. with your back pressed against his chest plate, he could feel the thrum of his spark against the line of your spine as it bows and curves in pleasure. as you spread your legs further to sink further, he rewards you with a kiss — brushing your hair aside to press his intake against the pulse point beneath your ear. and he tastes it, or rather, breathes it in. he didn't need to, but when your sweat mixes itself with the perfume you always wore: bergamot and peony, he inhales and loses himself even more.

the habsuite reeked of sex, and it crowded the air: humid and heavy, whirl's optic nearly offlined at how obscenely wet you were around his spike. already drunk on your pheromones. so when he lifted both your legs higher — up to his shoulders — to fit himself up to the hilt, whirl didn't expect to catch a whiff of your perfume around your ankles. you whined, a high-pitched, desperate sound, when he stopped thrusting to press his enstril against your achilles heel. that was enough for him to snap. he hoisted you up into a mating press, driving into you with a new kind of vigor. 'you did this on purpose', he emphasized by roughly grabbing your ass to push further into your already trembling cunt. causing you to moan into the dark. 'you knew we'd end up here. like this. filthy, little —'

sicilian mandarin and citrus musk. you made a mental note to yourself to wear the combination around your lover more often.

a/n : for @robot-horde because you're brilliant and left a comment on the tags of this post and it just inspired me to make more.

[makethatelevenrings]

Day 2: Chastity w/ Jason Todd

Kinktober Masterlist

“One week,” Jason reminded you as he packed up his duffel bag. “It’s a simple in and out. No going off world.”

“Can I at least know where you’re going?” you asked as you watched him from the bed. He smiled, his full lips curving up in that gentle smile of his that made your heart beat just a little faster. Some of his dark hair fell across his eyes, but it brushed away as he raised his head to look at you. You sat in the middle of the bed, clad in one of his shirts, and let your fingers brush against the carbon fiber exterior of his mask. You understood why he needed to leave.

You just didn’t have to like it.

“Hey,” Jason said softly. You tore your gaze away from the scuff at the chin of his mask and met his eyes. He watched you with a tenderness only reserved for you and you reached out to cup his cheek.

“I know. I know I can’t know. And I know that you’ll be as safe as you possibly can. I just worry.”

“You’re cute when you’re worried.”

You scowled. “Fuck you. Now I’m not gonna worry.” You moved to pull your hand away but he laughed and pulled your palm to his lips, peppering it with kisses. The sensation tickled across your skin and you laughed, eliciting a grin from your big, scary man.

Jason released you so he could finish packing the last few items and place his duffle on the floor at the end of the bed. The red chrome of his helmet rested on the top of the fabric as a sharp reminder that you would be waking up to an empty bed in the morning.

“C’mere,” Jason hummed as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his lap. Your legs rested on either side of his hips and you settled comfortably against the strong muscle that lined his body.

“I’m gonna miss you, sweets,” he murmured. Jason pressed his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled you deeply.

“Gonna miss you more,” you said, your fingers scratching over his scalp and twined through his soft hair. “I hate not having you in bed.”

“I know. I know, baby. I hate it too. But it’s just one week. Seven nights and I’ll be home. And you’re going to be a good girl for me, right?”

His big, calloused hands drifted down until they came to rest on your ass. The only thing that separated his hands and your body was a thin piece of lingerie.

Jason had found these panties months ago when he was investigating a drug ring in a sex club. They had sensors sewn into the bands that would alert him if you tried to do anything other than relieve yourself. No touching. No grinding. No getting off on toys or pillows.

And god, it drove him crazy.

You readily agreed to the idea. You loved it when he took control. You loved knowing that if you disobeyed his orders, he would know and he would punish you. Could you last a week without any stimulation? Would the punishment be worth it if you broke his rules?

Jason had purchased a whole army of the damn things and they had their own box in the closet. You had plenty to wear throughout the week and keep an eye on you. You shivered a the thought of what he would do if you broke his rule.

“Yes,” you breathed your answer against his lips.

“Yes what, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” You sank into the kiss he enveloped you in and moaned against his mouth. You really wouldn’t be able to last one week.