#working of proximity sensor

[visheshgroupindia]

Proximity Sensors: Enhancing Efficiency and Safety Across Industries

What are Proximity Sensors

Proximity sensors identify an object's presence even in the absence of physical touch. Without coming into direct touch with the item, they are made to recognize when it enters the sensor field. In a variety of manufacturing applications, proximity sensors are used to identify the proximity of metallic and non-metallic items.

How Do Proximity Sensors Function? 

In the least complex terms, proximity sensors work by communicating information about the presence or movement of an item into an electrical sign. They yield an ON signal when the article enters their reach. There are a few critical contrasts in the manner that different closeness sensors work, as made sense below: 

Capacitive Nearness Sensor Working Guideline Capacitive 

Proximity sensors work by identifying changes in capacitance between the sensor and an item. Factors, for example, distance and the size of the article will influence how much capacitance. The sensor just recognizes any progressions in the limit produced between the two. 

Inductive Nearness Sensor Working Standard

Inductive sensors work by recognizing vortex flows causing attractive misfortune, created by outer attractive fields on a conductive surface. The discovery curl produces an air conditioner attractive field, and impedance changes are distinguished because of the created whirlpool flows. 

Attractive Vicinity Switches Working Rule Attractive 

Proximity switches are similarly basic and clear. The reed end of the switch is worked by a magnet. At the point when the reed switch is enacted and ON, the sensor additionally turns ON. 

It is additionally significant that proximity sensors are not impacted by the surface shade of the article identified. They depend simply on actual development and the movement of an item, so its tone doesn't assume a part in that frame of mind of the sensor.

The Role of Proximity Sensors in Modern Industries

Sensors have become indispensable in today's automated world, serving important functions such as tracking and positioning control. In this field, location and proximity sensors are reshaping several industries. By detecting nearby vehicles in the automotive industry and accurately tracking the location of delivered packages in production, these sensors show their versatility and potential in several fields.

Robotics

Both position and proximity sensors are used in many applications in the field of robotics. For example, linear position sensors are commonly used in robotics and industrial settings for object detection, part fixation, and machine control. These sensors play an essential role in detecting the location, distance, and proximity of moving objects and provide important information for robot navigation and manipulation.

Industrial Automation

Today many manufacturers use these sensors to improve work productivity and efficiency. Integrating position and proximity sensors into production systems enables accurate detection and tracking of objects on conveyor belts, robotic arms, and assembly lines. This combination enables precise object positioning and motion control in industrial processes.

Security systems

Combining proximity and location sensors, security systems can be used to track and control the movement of objects in a certain area. It is useful in surveillance, burglar alarms, and access control systems.

Automotive Applications

The combination of these position and proximity sensors can be used in parking systems to detect open spaces and nearby cars in a parking lot, and accurately track the location of a vehicle for parking assistance. These sensors are also used to improve the safety and performance of Advanced Driver Assistance Systems (ADAS) vehicles.

Smart Healthcare

Location and proximity sensors play a vital role in healthcare, facilitating the monitoring and management of various aspects of medical facilities. Wearable proximity sensors play an important role in both acute and chronic health conditions, as they allow non-contact detection and monitoring of physical movements and interactions.

Food and Beverage Industry

A proximity sensor for food is a type of sensor that is designed specifically for use in the food industry. It is used to detect the presence or absence of food items during various stages of food processing, packaging, and handling. 

As technology advances, the integration of location and proximity sensors is expected to increase security, automation, and sensor innovation. based systems in various industries.

[s1eepy-bear]

‧୨🌿୧ ₊˚ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥・𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

pairing: robert 'bob' reynolds x ex shield agent! f!reader

synopsis: it's your first day on duty and you bring donuts for the team. a silly morning encounter reveals bob's hidden vulnerabilities. you quickly developing an unexpected connection with him.

content: no y/n, silly, fluffy, cute, slow burn

warnings: MDNI! not proof read, bob's abs lol

a/n: i finally thought of a title for this series! i wonder if i'm getting too hung up on everyone else's interaction with the reader, should i focus more on her interactions with bob? let me know <3 Chapter 1

That night, a soft, balmy breeze billowed your open curtains, bringing with it the faint, persistent pulse of New York's distant hustle and bustle.

You lie in bed, soft sheets enveloping you as you try to drift into sleep. Behind your closed eyelids, a persistent image gnawed at you: Bob’s red, shy face. 

A sliver of guilt hangs heavy in your chest for having flustered him so abruptly. You now have a level of access to those in the spotlight that SHIELD had never granted you, and the excitement of your new proximity to the New Avengers had entirely swept you away. You must remain professional.

Just two years ago, Bob slowly inked New York City away into darkness, turning people into shadows one by one, causing severe damage to the city and resulted in numerous injuries.

With this in mind, flirting feels frivolous and irresponsible when confronted with the ghosts of his past. And if he is in a vulnerable head space, you don’t want to be the one to take advantage of it, even if it's unintentional. This isn’t the kind of crush you can afford to have.

With these thoughts plaguing your mind and the heavy exhaustion from the busy work day, you slowly drift off to sleep.

༉ ✧˚₊

The following morning, the sun drenched the landscape, laying a shimmering, translucent veil over everything. A gentle breeze dances through the air, the sun is still low on the horizon.

You woke up extra early to drop by the charming donut shop you frequent to grab breakfast for the whole team. You opted for something simple, sugar donuts, until you learn everyone’s preferences.

You walk into the tower from your car, the bag of donuts in hand, thoughtfully greeting the other workers maintaining the tower along the way.

The light above the sensor in the elevator beeps green when you touch the access key to it and whirs into motion, swiftly bringing you to your desired floor.

The common area where the team welcomed you yesterday is now dark due to the curtains being drawn. The space is quiet, spared from the steady, low hum of the air conditioner running. You check your watch: only 6:10. Most of them are probably asleep.

You decide to take this time to brew some fresh, actually hot, coffee. While the pot gurgles, you tidy up various spots in the common area and kitchen: throw pillows on the floor, a bag of Goldfish crackers left open, a few books and magazines scattered around, dishes in the sink, cereal pieces that didn’t make it to the mouth, expired things in the fridge.

The smell of the fresh brew fills the space as you continue to busy yourself with noting down numerous items, food, and snacks for restocking. You silently note to yourself to get everyone’s phone number so they can get ahold of you if they ever need something.

“Oh, good morning,” Yelena says as she walks out from a corridor, which you learned from her yesterday, leads to the gym.

Her face shiny from a thin sheen of sweat as she makes her way toward you, wiping the sweat off with the towel around her neck. Her short blonde hair is pushed back with a headband.

“Good morning, Ms. Belova,” you greet her back with a mellow murmur, the sound soft enough not to disturb the early morning quiet. 

“No, no, none of that,” she plops herself down on one of the leather bar stools by the kitchen island, the stool legs scraping faintly against the floor.

You tilt your head, a question forming in your head. The coffee maker gives a final satisfying beep, its brewing cycle complete.

“Just Yelena,” she clarifies. 

 You smile at that, “Well, Yelena, would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

You collect two mugs from the cabinet, the ceramic cool beneath your fingers, and fill them both with fresh coffee. Wisps of steam rose lazily from the dark liquid. The rich aroma blossoms in the air as you set one mug before her. She nods appreciatively.

“So, you think Bob is cute, huh?” Just as you take a sip out of your mug, Yelena inquires suddenly with a playful glint in her eyes. The unexpected question catches in your throat, forcing a sharp, spluttering cough.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” your initial serene expression crumples, replaced by a deep flush rising to your cheeks. You lower your cup to press your fingers between your eyebrows in a flustered manner.

Yelena laughs, a low, throaty sound, propping her elbows on the counter.

“Come on, you wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.”

“It’s not that I didn’t mean it, it’s just…it was unprofessional,” you avert your gaze, suddenly the bleak marble counter looks very interesting. 

“Who cares!” She lightheartedly rolls her eyes. “We’re hardly a professional organization. You just said what was on your mind.”

“Still,” you insist softly, tracing the rim of your mug with your thumb, the ceramic now warmer due to your body heat and hot beverage.

The Watchtower's dormant systems hummed—a low, almost imperceptible sound that seemed to amplify the awkward quietness. Your downcast eyes catch the wrinkled paper bag of donuts—your saving grace.

“Anyways…care for a donut?” You ask as you hold up the bag. “I settled for something basic since I don’t know what everyone liked. Let me know if you have any preferences,” Yelena gives you a knowing look, taking a deliberate sip of her coffee to hide her lips twitching with suppressed amusement. She is letting you off the hook, for now.

Yelena reaches for the bag, her fingers lightly hover as she carefully chooses what must be the perfect one. She takes a huge bite and lets out a genuine, drawn-out groan of pleasure. “Mmm! This is good, actually good, better than whatever dad tries to make.” 

You let out a quick exhale of a laugh. The tight knot of tension in your chest finally loosens. You pluck a donut for yourself, not bothering with Yelena’s meticulous selection process.

Even with her teasing about Bob, a warm wave of relief washes over you. You've found a connection with at least one person on this team. Well, there's Alexei too, but Alexei is friendly right off the bat, like a big, boisterous golden retriever.

As you and Yelena enjoy your donuts, a quiet murmur of conversation and two pairs of footsteps draw steadily louder. 

“Wow, looks real tidy out here,” Walker’s voice announces from just around the corner.

“Smells real good too,” he steps fully into the kitchen, Bucky Barnes following close behind him. They both are in athletic gear, ready for a morning workout.

“Good morning, Mr. Walker, and nice to finally meet you, Mr. Barnes.” Your lips curve upward in a polite greeting. Bucky simply returns it with a nod and a small smile of his own, while Yelena tosses a casual, “What’s up, losers?” their way.

“Some coffee and donuts?” you offer, holding up the bag. Both of the super soldiers accept enthusiastically. While they chat with Yelena, you busy yourself with coffee and mugs.

"Maybe this secretary thing is awesome after all," Walker remarks complacently with a smirk, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement.

“Walker,” Bucky lectures, his voice a low, warning rumble—probably worrying about Walker's statement being rude.

You smile back at Walker as you set their coffee in front of them on the kitchen island.

"Just part of the job,”

You can’t deny that it feels good to have someone acknowledge and appreciate your work, even jokingly. 

༉ ✧˚₊

After a quick breakfast, the others begin to disperse. Yelena leaves to go take a shower, and Bucky and Walker make their way to the gym. 

You inhale your donut in a few quick bites and retrieve your company-issued tablet from your purse, flipping through various tabs, reviewing the team’s schedule today.

Although each person on the team is sent their own schedule, you keep everyone’s, so you can locate someone if you are looking for them, or if someone doesn’t make it somewhere on time, it’s your duty to check on them.  

A quick glance confirms the mission briefing for tomorrow: the whole team, minus Bob. It seems like Val is utilizing the new support staff—you, to keep him company while the team is deployed. While your role for most of the team is to respond when needed, your duties for Bob involve a slightly more active form of oversight. You have to make sure that he wakes up before noon and eats all his meals. 

For now, you sit in the common area with the curtains drawn open, as you review what would be stacks of paperwork if it weren’t digital. The Watchtower is brighter but not much more lively. Today is everyone’s day off; therefore, some go their separate ways to take care of business. You would usually find the quietness relaxing, but the lack of structure is unnerving. It’s not the kind of stressful, rigid work environment you're used to.

You officially met Ava Starr when she strolled past the common area on her way out. Her movement fluid and silent, as if gliding. Her ethereal, pale blue eyes remind you of a fairy.

With your introduction, she simply mutters, “finally, another girl.” A faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Want a donut?” 

How many times have you said the word ‘donut’ today?

“How thoughtful, don’t mind if I do,” Ava says, giving you a nod of thanks before she disappears.

A moment after Ava leaves, just when the air has settled, a soft padding of bare feet against the tiled floor catches your attention. Bob’s eyes are half closed, still lost somewhere in sleep, as he wobbles slowly across the common area toward the kitchen, oblivious to you. Strands of his brown hair stick out in different directions, appearing golden under the sun. You would alert him, but there’s something so captivating about watching Bob just existing, devoid of nervousness or uncertainty. 

He rubs his eye as he yawns tiredly, reaching a hand up under his shirt to scratch his stomach. The fabric rides up, revealing his abdomen. Your eyes widen, and your heart jolts against your ribcage. His baggy clothes make him look unassuming, even scrawny, but the reality is anything but. Beneath the fabric lay an expanse of taut, defined muscles that spoke quiet strength—a sharp contrast that stole your breath. You swallow thickly.

Fuck.

Still unaware of your presence, Bob's eyes finally open fully, drawn by something in the kitchen. His gaze falls on the last donut remaining on a plate. He absentmindedly grabs the pastry and starts feasting. Mid-chewing, he turns, locking eyes with you, and freezes.

“Oh shit,” he says incoherently, you almost didn’t make out his words. He swallows his bite, his eyes wide from surprise or panic, you’re not sure which, “uh, hey…that wasn’t yours, was it?”

You sputter, a fit of laughter hits you all at once, and you can’t seem to take a full breath. Maybe it was because of how carefree he was the second before, but reverted to his usual self in the snap of a finger, or the fact that there’s sugar on the side of his mouth.

Your laughter evokes a bashful smile from Bob, “So, was that a 'no, it wasn't yours,' or do you just enjoy my cluelessness?” He says, his tongue darts out briefly to lick away the sugar on the side of his mouth. 

“Maybe I do, and the donut is for you,” you say, still breathless from laughing. “You’re lucky that I’m here to make sure no one grabbed two.” 

“Thanks,” Bob lets out a sigh of relief, clearly still a bit embarrassed but grateful. "I…I didn’t know that you were going to be here today.”

“Well, Bob, I have a job here,” you tilt your head with an amused smile as you make your way to the kitchen, to him. “And I’ll be here every day.”

“Right, that makes sense…” His voice trails off. 

A quiet elation blossoms within him in your presence, like a breath of fresh spring air. You, with your gentle smile and disarming frankness, are a stark contrast from those who walk on eggshells around him, wary of rattling the Void. He doesn’t hold that against them, but it felt good being treated like he’s a normal person—no serum, no Sentry, no Void.

A tingly, warm feeling spreads across his chest, a feeling he didn’t even realize he missed. His bashful smile softens further, and his gaze, usually a little distant, settles on you with a warmth that matches the new feeling in his chest. He clears his throat gently. "So," he begins, “what exactly is your job with us…I mean, I know you are our uh, assistant or secretary, but what does that entail?”

“Well, just about anything, I can cook for you guys, get groceries, manage paperwork, clean, be good company,” you list, but pause, “speaking of groceries, you guys are very out. Would you come to the store with me? I’m not sure what everyone likes.”

“Oh, um…” Bob's face falls, his blue eyes clouding with sorrow. "The team doesn't like me going outside," he explains quietly. "Because the Void might come out, you know. And that's... not good."

“So you just…stay here all day?”

“Pretty much.”

You soften your gaze, speaking gently. "Val actually mentioned you're allowed to leave the Tower with a companion. You can't conquer the Void by being cooped up all day, Bob. Besides, we're only going to grab groceries, we'll come straight back if you'd like, and I'll be right there with you." You suggest, being careful not to pressure him into something he's uncomfortable with.

“Are you sure?” Bob fiddles with the sleeve of his sweatshirt—you learn that it’s a nervous habit of his.

“I believe in you. Do you believe in yourself?”

Bob seems to ponder it over in his head and eventually takes a deep breath. “Okay…I will at least try.”

“Alright,” you beamed, unable to stop the big smile spreading across your face. “That’s all I ask.”

Your smile lightened something in Bob, drawing a soft, answering smile to his lips.

Bob nodded, his gaze softening as he held your smile, “yeah…”

You tilt your head, a playful glint in your eye. "So, are you flying us or should I drive?"

button divider by @/bernardsbendystraws

[starqueensthings]

We need to talk about Echo (and by talk I mean screm). S3 E13 + 14 Spoilers!

FRIENDS, I'M GOING TO EXPLODE. I need to talk about Echo for a minute. We need to talk about Echo for a minute,  because he has spent the last two episodes in the absolute thralls of complete and total danger, and I personally don't feel like there's been enough of a celebratory uproar for me to be satisfied with the level of appreciation and love that man deserves. (Remember when Hunter ran face first into a colossal exhaust pipe and we all collectively lost our minds because it was so impressive and so sexy? Remember when Tech drove a speeder really fast through a tunnel and we all fainted? I'M A TECH GIRLY. IT WAS ME! I FAINTED!!) but, Y'ALL, Echo deserves that right now!! And for all eternity!!! Because he is wholly submurged in the harrowing potential of torture and execution, and he didn't even bat an eye to put himself there. My awe of him is all-consuming, so please forgive me if this rant reads as nothing but incoherent screaming. 

Echo haters (first of all, we can't be friends....) come on this journey with me! Let's back pedal to the beginning of the last episode (13). He stole an imperial shuttle. Let me repeat, he stole an imperial shuttle. And not just an attack shuttle. Not just a lil one-pilot transport. Bro somehow stole a Rho-class medical transport, which is very large, obscenely conspicuous, and very easily tracked. And, to use his own words, it was "the best he could do on short notice." The man stole a shuttle on short notice. ON SHORT NOTICE? HELLO, HOW DID HE DO THAT. WHY AIN'T WE LOSING OUR COOL ABOUT IT. 

Next stop on this I-love-Echo journey through my mind: not only did he provide his brothers transportation in the complete void of their own (RIP havoc bb), but he also came equipped with intel and clearance codes, and, as Rampart stated, those things change DAILY. Echo somehow procured top secret imperial clearance codes, and a fkn SHIP, within hours of the Batch requesting his help. Not to mention, the ship had yet to be reported missing (which means it was only-freshly commandeered), and the clearance codes worked. Of course they did. Echo never fails. Never doubt Echo. "Echo's on it."  

Choochoo, next stop! Once they arrived on that station orbiting Coruscant, and made their way to the control room (lookin sexy as heck in his armour-au-noir), he broke imperial encryption, hacked into the Imperial database, almost instantly found them the location of a ship departing for the prison that holds their daughter Tantiss, AND THEN DIDN'T EVEN HESITATE TO CLIMB ABOARD AND STOW AWAY.  

He didn't even remotely have a plan, or have time to make a plan. He didn't know who or what else would be on board that mysterious vessel. He didn't know where it was going other than the name of the fkn mountain (which has proven to be nothing but unhelpful thus far). He just ARC-troopered his way through that crowded hangar, dodging aggressive astromech's and inconsiderate loader droids, shirking from the perspective eyes of highly trained commandos, and snuck his way onto a heavily guarded, extremely unknown science vessel. Then, of course, he wasted no time, hacking into the ships control system (may I gently remind- there were at least three pilots and an officer prepping the ship for jump and closely watching all aspects of its controls), disabling the proximity sensors without being detected, and then seamlessly covered the troopers absence by pretending to be him (which we all know is what should have happened on Serenno but... hindsight is 20/20.)  

So... SO.... now we're at Episode 14. Here we at fkn terrified station because HULLO ECHO IS ALONE ON A SCIENCE DIVISION TRANSPORT; we have literally seen them carry around Zilo beasts in that shit. What the heck else could be on there that they don't know about? Literally anything. Because THEY KNEW NOTHING before attaching themselves to it. Echo knew NOTHING before sneaking onto that thing and creepin' around. Thank heck he didnt come across a fkn fresh wave of slither vines ok?  

NEXT, Echo shoots (not stuns- lol) a sassy fkn droid (they had it coming, not sorry), then another trooper. AND THEN discovered his only option for departing the ship once it enters atmosphere is going completely undercover, because (in true "we improvise everything" CF99 fashion that gives me heart burn just thinking about it), they had zero fkn plan to get off the ship. I will repeat: completely undercover. On Tantiss. COMPLETELY UNDERCOVER ON TANTISS. NO COMMS, NO BACK UP, NO RECON, NO PLAN, BARELY ANY GEAR, and I would just like to stress... no neuro brace. He left his neurobrace on that ship. Left it. LEFT IT AND TOOK A HAND INSTEAD. PLEASE FKN SEDATE ME.  

We can't leave this station yet... This I-love-Echo train needs to linger at this point for a sec because I think it's lost on some people how wild this is. Echo without his neurobrace is huge. It's a bigger deal than Echo without his armour. Armour is, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential (one can find more- see Howzer). Echo's neurobrace is not armour, it's a computer and it's so so so crucial to how his mind processes information and events. Don't forget, the Technounion HIJACKED HIS BRAIN. They took every memory from him and manipulated it for their gain. Pruned it, tweaked it, blanched it, poached it, turned it into scrambled eggs, and then fkn ate it up and used it to defeat their enemies (Echo's family- I'm sobbing). They implanted him with an unfathomable amount of information; they changed the way the neurons in his brain fire in relation to stimuli. That neurobrace is so so critical for him. Now, we know he can operate well enough without it, we saw it in the last episode of the TBB arc in season 7 of Clone Wars, but... please.... to what extent? We don't know what an extended time without that neurobrace looks like for him... especially when all other aspects compliing his surroundings foreign, unknown, and dangerous, and that scares me.

AND NOW HE'S ABOUT TO RUN AMOK IN TANTISS with Emerie who, (I'm sorry) is wishy-washy as heck (who are you loyal to!!!!! What is your history!!! Are you trustworthy and what are you looking to gain!!!), trying to adopt a collection of Jedi children whove spent maker-knows how long playing space tetris, WHILST ALSO ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE AND ESCAPE WITH HIS BROTHERS UNDER THE EYE OF THE GALAXY'S SECOND MOST DANGEROUS MAN. 

So yes, short of d-d-d-di... can't say it... short of THE WORST CASE, Echo has made the ultimate sacrifice to save not only Omega who is literally the only person we've seen able to make him truly laugh, but all the clone brothers that he's been desperately trying to locate and rescue. His bravery and determination are literally unrivalled, and he did it while feasting on nothing but humble pie because that man wouldn't know arrogance if it danced naked under his perfect nose.  

Okay so welcome, we've finally pulled into I-Love-Echo station. Before departing the ride, please stand and do a hip hip hurray for the miracle that is Echo, including but not limited to, everything he's done, is doing, and is willing to do for other people. 

[mamawasatesttube]

"you've got something on your face." with timkon for the ficlet prompts 🫡 i miss them so bad

"Thanks," Tim says suddenly, "for coming over on such short notice."

Kon looks over at him from the other end of the couch, his expression soft and unguarded. Half of his face is lit up in warm amber lamplight; the other half is outlined in the flickering blue of the TV. Neither of them is really watching at this point, but the steady background noise is comforting.

"Anytime, Wonder." Kon stretches his arms up over his head, visibly stifling a yawn, and slouches back against the cushions. "I told you before. You call, I'm there."

"Still," Tim persists. His chest aches with fondness as he looks at Kon, snuggled up under a plush throw blanket that's too small for his long legs. "I know you're exhausted today, long space flight 'n' all that. So I appreciate it."

"Eh, it was just out to Proxima Centauri, not that far or nothin'." Kon shrugs one shoulder, languid and at ease. His voice is a little rough with weariness. "You should see some of the distances Kal's pulled off in one day."

Tim leans over and swats him on the shoulder. "Okay, but, like. Shut up and let me be grateful, will you?"

That gets a sunny laugh out of Kon, like light spilling through cracks in the roof to chase away the last vestiges of the shadows in all the nooks and crannies of Tim's brain. He's fine, really; he just never likes being alone after brushes with fear toxin. The antidote works wonders, but he still always struggles with paranoia afterwards.

So. Hence. Kon. Because there's definitely no ninjas in the vents or Charaxes on the roof if Kon's here. Between his incredible TTK-enabled spatial awareness and the superhearing, Kon's, like, the best proximity sensor this side of the known universe. He'd never let anything get the drop on Tim. And hearing him laugh...

Hearing him laugh does wonders for Tim's heart. Not that he's ever said so out loud, but that doesn't make it any less true.

"Fine, fine." Kon rolls his eyes fondly, catching Tim's forearm. "You're welcome, Rob." His thumb rubs over the pulse point in Tim's wrist, and Tim knows he can hear his heart skip a beat in answer.

Kon must know what he does to Tim. They haven't spoken about it—Tim has no idea how to speak about it—but Kon must know. His eyes twinkle in the dimness, bright against the windows into the rainy night, and Tim's breath threatens to catch in his throat.

He leans a little closer, reaches for Kon, and Kon lets him, fingers lingering on his wrist. He cups Kon's jaw, grazes his thumb against his cheekbone. Kon's skin is warm.

"You have something on your face," he murmurs, voice softer than he means for it to be. "...An eyelash. Here."

He holds it up so Kon can see. One of his thick, long, dark eyelashes rests on the pad of Tim's thumb, stark against his skin; it's small enough to seem delicate, even if Tim knows it holds the strength of steel.

Kon looks at it. Blinks for a second. Then his lips curve into a smile, and he tilts his head like a dog, eyes fixed on Tim's face. "Make a wish."

"Aren't you supposed to be the one wishing for something?" Tim frowns. "It's your eyelash."

"Hm." Kon considers for a moment. Then he blows the lash off Tim's thumb. His breath isn't icy, but it's still colder than it should be; surely that, and only that, is the reason for the shiver that runs down Tim's spine.

"What did you wish for?"

"Pretty sure I'm not supposed to tell you, or it won't come true," Kon says, amused. He drops his arm, warm and heavy, over Tim's shoulders, and pulls him into his side. "Nosy."

Tim rolls his eyes. "Maybe so," he says, and rests his head against Kon's shoulder. He wonders if Kon's wish is the same thing he would've wished for, too. Sometimes, he thinks it might be.

[classica-meretrix]

Maintenance

pairing: tech x fem!reader genre: fluff(?) content/warnings: suggestive, use of y/n summary: while helping tech with a wiring issue, things get a little. . . heated a/n: based on s1 e8 "reunion" of bad batch, don't love the ending but someone might so I left it!

“Y/N, I need you on the bridge.” Tech’s voice was wrapped in static, making his words crack as they came over the com-link.

“I’ll be right there,” I replied. I turned back towards the center of the room, abandoning my work gathering explosives. “Tech needs me,” I called to the others. “I’m going to the bridge.”

I hurried out of the armory, making my way to the top of the ship. When I got there the blast doors to the bridge appeared to have been forced open. I was silently impressed that Tech had managed them without the brute force of Wrecker or the mechanical help of Echo.

“Tech?” I called into the room.

“Over here,” he responded, his voice slightly strained.

I found him on his back under the main control desk, one leg folded, the other lying open to one side. He had his visor down, sparks flying from whatever he was working on.

“What do you need me for?”

He muttered something under his breath before properly answering me. “I’ve managed to get the power back on, but I can’t access the computer. There’s a sensor I can’t bypass.”

“Okay, slide out and let me have a look.”

“I can’t.” His hands stopped tinkering with the control panel as he turned to look at me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. He flipped up his visor, sliding off his helmet. “The sensor was badly damaged when the Jedi were attacked. I have to hold these wires or it’s no use to you.”

“Fine,” I huffed, dropping to the floor. I cautiously slid between his legs, placing a hand on either side of his abdomen. I tried to ignore our close proximity, turning just enough to see the sensor.

“I’ll need your torch.” I failed to keep my voice even, wavering as I spoke. He used his free hand to offer me the tool. He was unusually quiet.

“Okay, hold on. I need both hands.” I laid my weight on him, flipping over the rest my back against his chest.

Tech’s breath was coming in short bursts, the plastoid-alloy material of his armor pressing into me. I took the torch, hurriedly working to override the sensor. In any other circumstance Tech would’ve been unhelpfully lecturing me on what to do, or talking my ear off about something entirely unrelated. Now he just held the wires in place, occasionally clearing his throat my ear.

“Almost done,” I informed. I set down the torch, flipping back over to grab a pair of pliers. In the process I locked eyes with Tech, his pupils blown as he struggled not to pant. I hurriedly flipped back over, accidentally pressing my leg against the crotch of his armor. He sighed at the contact, his eyes closing.

“Fuck, sorry,” I mumbled, working even faster to disable the sensor.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice rough and low.

I fumbled with the wires, struggling to remember which one to cut. I felt like I was burning, and I’m sure my face was flaming red.

“The blue one,” he reminded, taking notice of my fumbling. I was too focused on the way his voice rumbled in my ear, his breath on my neck, to process what he said right away, my actions delayed.

“Right,” I mumbled. As I cut the wire, an idea came to me. I shifted my hips, ‘accidentally’ rolling them against his crotch. He breathed out a series of curses.

“What are you doing?” His voice was warning, but his free hand came to my hip, holding me in place.

“Fixing the sensor. Like you asked,” I teased, moving again, ever so slightly.

“Don’t tease,” he chided. I had never heard him sound so harsh before. His lips now grazed the shell of my ear, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“I don’t take orders from you.” I knew what I was doing was dangerous, but that hardly mattered anymore. The sensor was almost completely forgotten.

Tech slid his hand from my hip to the edge of my shirt, slipping under the fabric to splay his hand on my skin. His armor was cool and smooth, save the thin lines of carbon residue from old blaster fire.

“Then I’ll just have to teach you,” he hissed in my ear. I cut the last wire. The sensor would be easily bypassed now, but neither of us moved.

“I’d like to see you try.” His hand slipped to the edge of my pants as he placed a chaste kiss on my neck, pushing my head to one side. He continued his assault, nipping at my skin as I whimpered. He had just reached my shoulder, his fingers slipping under the edge of my waistband when loud thuds came from the doorway.

“Well, well, well! What do we have here?” Wrecker’s voice echoed throughout the bridge, making it even louder than normal. Tech’s hand flew off of me, his head falling back as we both jumped. I hit my head against the bottom of the control table in an attempt to move away from him, forgetting the lack of space.

“Fuck!” I cursed, my hand flying to my forehead. Tech instinctually pulled me back down to his chest, holding me against him.

“Slide out,” he whispered to me. The others' footsteps were getting louder. I did as he said, him following shortly behind me.

“Sorry, were we interrupting something?” Wrecker questioned, a teasing smile plastered on his face as he giddily rocked back and forth on his heels.

“No,” Tech replied, his usual sarcastic tone returning. “Just injuring a fellow soldier.” He turned to me. “Are you alright?”

“I think so.”

“Let me look at it.” Hunter stepped forward, gingerly removing my hand to look at the mark.

“Hey, what’s that blinking light?” Omega asked, pointing to the control desk.

“It detects other ships approaching,” Tech explained. “Probably just a malfunction.”

Just as he finished talking three empire ships flew over the bridge, shaking the cruiser.

“We need to go,” Hunter stated, grabbing Omega’s arm.

We had just gotten to the base of the engine and Tech was already going on about the technological marvels of their craftsmanship. He ran his finger along the metal.

“The blast primer coating was specially designed to withstand temp—“

“Shut up!” Wrecker yelled, pushing him forward.

“Save it for your wet dreams, why don’t you?” I teased, sliding off a ring and landing beside him.

A few yards up Omega turned to Hunter. “What’s a wet dream?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, shooting us a glare over his shoulder as he hurried Omega forward. Wrecker let out a booming laugh as he ran to catch up. I made to follow but Tech caught my arm, pulling me back. He left very little room between us, ducking down to whisper in my ear.

“My wet dreams have nothing to do with blast coatings. In fact, they often resemble our little encounter on the bridge.” He pulled back, giving me a cheeky smirk before running to catch up with the group, leaving me stunned.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

okay so you killed him now what is the opposite of killing miller?

(this is a prompt)

Hi Zita, it's been 84 years. I wrote something for this finally. There's puns and genuine feelings and baby facts in here, learned firsthand.

-

Miller's been in the same room for the last 6 hours. That was the last time he left to pop down the hall to get water and snacks for his charges. Before that he was back in the room fiddling with the light settings, helping adjust the hospital bed, and reminding nurses and patients of the most recent pain ratings, meds and dosages, and questions. So many questions. Mostly from Roland.

S-IVs don't need as much sleep as normal people, which is a blessing and a curse. It's what got him into this situation.

All hands on deck means all hands on deck when the Infinity picks up a distress signal and responds to a colony-ship abandoned by its AI.

Roland makes sure to express his opinions straight into Jared's ear, but he switches gears when triage happens. They work in tandem with little bickering as the Infinity's numbers swell with their new pick up.

It's a lot of civilian types, entire families with many generations all milling about and a cloud of anxiety over them. Miller can feel the weight of their stares and the burning curiosity Roland exudes as he leans on Miller's Mjolnir to look closer at so many new people.

Children weren't something he'd seen up close before.

He ends up forgoing the helmet given how jumpy they are around him. The results are night and day: he goes from a faceless tool of the UNSC to Jared Miller, awkward guy and newly designated Au Pair.

Cmdr. Palmer would be laughing at him if there was a single motherly bone in her body allowing her within 500 yards of the makeshift maternity ward in this corner of the infirmary.

Miller had also forgone the helmet due to the amount of questions he'd been receiving from all sides. Between the kids, the civilian parents glaring at him, and Roland's unfettered access to his eyes and ears, he wanted a breather from the HUD and proximity alarms as brave tweens and toddlers approached him.

The previous 12 hours had been a deluge of:

"Have you killed any aliens?"

"Spartan Miller, ask that nurse about the new mottling on the baby's skin. It's probably just newborn rash, but you should ask."

"Why are you so tall? Did they give you more bones?"

"Miller, ask to hold the baby, I want to use the armor's sensors to check oxygen levels."

"Do you know Master Chief?"

"Spartan Miller, are you ignoring me?"

"Mister Spartan, can you get us some extra blankets?"

"Can I hold your gun?"

It's 2300 when the extended family of the newborn shuffle off to parts unseen to get some rest and give the new parents space when it happens. The brave faces tire and the frazzled nerves shine through. Technically, Miller is off the clock. He should go recover in his own quarters. He should leave.

He does.

The assemblage bay is a hive of activity. A well oiled machine taking apart its smaller machines and putting them away for future use. Miller feels more human in his ready gear with a shower and a meal in him.

He wanders back into the infirmary and smiles awkwardly at the faces lighting up to see him.

The baby's just been fed and needs swaddling. Mom hasn't slept in close to 48 hours, and her wife is struggling to keep her eyes open from the awful makeshift bench. Cots were elsewhere and this is what they had to work with.

Mom just needs to lay down without worrying about the baby for a half hour till the next nurse comes. Wife just needs to sit down. Miller takes first watch and swaddling duty. He'd seen it done a dozen times over the last day and then some. Make a triangle with the cloth, tuck the arms gently so they don't scratch the face, move the cloth left over and under, the bottom up and over a shoulder and right over left. Secure and warm in hands big enough to dwarf the less than eight pound bundle. Hat affixed to a dark head of hair to retain heat. Tiny features squinch up and relax at the change in pressure and temperature.

Facts from the last day and a half pour over Miller's mind. Support the head and neck. Check for blue around the mouth in case of oxygenation issues. Newborns lose 10% of their weight the first few days. You have to train them to eat, they're used to getting food automatically. The diapers won't be pretty but black tar and brickdust are normal for the first few days.

He stands and sways. Dinosaurs of all colors look back at him from the swaddle. Wife succumbs to sleep with her head pillowed on a jacket and a spare blanket over her. Mom holds a pillow and curls up, too warm in a newborn temperature room. She dozes as Miller sways, squeezes, and shushes the little one. A red face and a small cry let him know it's nearly time to change the diaper. A glance at the clock lets him know the nurse should be there soon. A golden bit of text on one of the panels lets him know that Roland is still hellbent on learning, nagging, and all around being involved in the whole process.

The nurse comes in for Mom's 4 hour check and another round of meds. They help Mom sit up and adjust in the hospital bed while Miller changes the diaper.

He keeps up a steady stream of words at the little squirming bundle. "I know, I know. It's so cold right? Well we'll get you warm in juuust a second."

Miller's grateful for the nurses and the well-stocked bassinet. Diaper changed, baby cleaned, and the tiny squealing human calms from squeaking cries to small grumbles as they shift from upset-red back to healthy pink.

They're so small. It's insane.

Miller's still staring when the nurse approaches to check and prep for another round of feeding and skin-to-skin contact.

"You're a trooper." They say, nodding to Miller.

"Actually I'm a Spartan." He jokes as he goes to wash his hands.

The baby mewls loudly before quieting again.

"Didn't think it was that bad of a joke…"

Mom smiles and the nurse rolls their eyes.

Miller comes back and moves his vigil to the chair in the corner over the next several hours.

It doesn't get any less surreal, but something's shifted.

[ireadwithmyears]

Wrapped in Love

Pairing: Wrecker/Fem Reader

Word count: 2.8 K

Tags/warnings: Reader is a Jedi, referenced death of a sibling, grief/morning, sleeping problems, including false awakening loops/sleep paralysis, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: As a Jedi, you’re supposed to be able to let go of people after you lose them. But when your twin brother, who is also a Jedi, is killed mid battle during the clone wars, you find your grief manifesting in a plethora of sleeping problems that you hadn’t been prone to experiencing since childhood. When it all starts to become too much, only the batch’s resident demolitions expert/human teddy bear Wrecker is able to ground you and, little by little, help you feel safe again.

Authors note: So uh... if you didn’t know, one of my older brothers unexpectedly died several weeks ago, and this is just my way of coping with my grief, as well as the sleeping problems, discussed in this fic, that I’ve developed as a result. Often, I wake up feeling deeply unsettled and like I’m not entirely real, and this is immediately followed by the thought man, I could really use the strength of Wrecker to comfort me and make me feel grounded in this moment. So basically... this is that. Also written for @wrecker-week 😁

All the lights that blink and beam within each of the cockpit’s various displays are a normal, reassuring glow of green, indicating that all sensor readings, as of this moment, are blissfully, unremarkably normal.

Wrecker, to the shock of almost everyone who knows him, doesn’t actually mind this job. Sure, it’s probably the least exciting duty he and his brothers are forced to contend with on a semi-regular basis, what with operations needing to be split between such a small crew. But someone, especially whilst they were using some of the more clandestine hyperspace routes, needed to keep a constant eye on the various monitors, particularly for the critical systems and proximity sensors to detect for foreign vessels whilst travelling around the Outer Rim.

Wrecker, having what some would call an overactive mind and as a result, an abundance of energy that needed to be burned off somehow during the long stretches of nothingness that came with extraneous hyperspace forays such as this one, could always be counted on to find something to keep himself occupied through the night.

What he hadn’t counted on, but what was quickly becoming the standard routine, was you at some point or another joining him in the cockpit. 

When you had joined them, his squad had been apprehensive. 

But when a Jedi general who they had later learned was your former master had asked if they had room to take you in, well...

It wasn’t like Hunter could really raise any objections to that. 

So you had come aboard, and little by little they had learned of the circumstances that had brought you to them. 

You were a twin, and in a slightly less-conventional Jedi upbringing, were trained in the ways of the Force alongside your brother. You both had different masters and were encouraged to find balance within your familial relationships so as not to form unhealthy attachments. But regardless, family was family, and you often found yourselves, once you had both become knights, working alongside each other and in later years fighting at each other’s side to defend peace and to protect vulnerable planets as the war tore its way across the galaxy.

Which, in the end, had made it all the more devastating when, mid battle, in a bid to protect his men, your brother was overpowered and cut down by General Grievous.

The worst part, which should have been viewed as a mercy but in reality felt like a final blow to you, was that you weren’t even there to witness his final, heroic sacrifice.

You were at the Temple, and subsequently had woken up in bed with a horrible, aching pain in your chest and an instinctive, loud, and screeching feeling that something was irrevocably and unspeakably wrong.

Even before the Temple Guards had arrived at your quarters to inform you, deep within the confines of your soul, where the ever-present song of the Force had faded into a clashing, churning dissonance within your ears, you had already known. 

You were left with the shadow, the memory of him everywhere you went, and an inescapable, desperate urge to run away from it all. So, with your master unable to convince you to stay out of the fight entirely and to instead take some time to go on a meditation retreat, he had sent you to them, where you could still be of use without yours and your brother’s mutual acquaintances, friends, and the familiar settings that brought the memory of him back just to haunt you, and that with some luck, you could grieve whilst also maintaining some degree of distance from the brother and the childhood that you had lost.

The only problem now? 

You’ve come to associate your bed, and by extension getting to sleep, as not safe anymore.

Your bed, of all places, should be the one place where you do feel safe. It’s warm, it’s comfortable, and it’s the place you always go when you find yourself in need of rest.

But the bed was not safe.

Bed meant lying down, going to sleep, and waking up to news that could shatter you as easily as if you were glass. Going to sleep, in the same vein, became a fretful nightly event, where you would lie down and try to convince yourself, sometimes for up to several hours, that everything was fine, that you would close your eyes, wake up in the morning, and most everything would remain the same—safe, familiar and unchanging, much like the monitors and sensor readings on the cockpit’s various displays.

And then there were the nightmares, which themselves were an issue all on their own.

The thing about nightmares is that a lot of the time, they don’t have to be this vivid, terrifying experience in which you watch as your twin brother is, viciously and without mercy, stabbed through the chest and back with two lightsabers in quick succession.

You don’t need to go to sleep at night for that image to burn behind your eyes if you happen to fixate on it too much. 

Your nightmares nowadays were quiet and deceptive in their appearance, which in the end makes them all the more deeply unsettling to wake up from. 

Disappointingly, in a painful twist that really shouldn’t have been all that surprising given the circumstances, they were also recurring, a remnant of your childhood that you thought you had left in your Padawan days long ago. 

“False-awakening loops” your master, with patience and a seemingly endless reserve of compassion, had called them. “When you are stressed or are anticipating something stressful is about to happen, you are unable to fully relax into sleep. To try and compensate, your brain will aim to re-create the familiar scenario of waking, sometimes over and over again, in an attempt to process the stress or trauma that has triggered it.”

So, as it was, you found yourself reverting back to those subtle but frightening dreams that cropped up on particularly stressful occasions when you were a youngling.

You would wake up. You would start your day, and then something strange, disquieting, or a frightening mixture of both would slowly alert you to the fact that you were dreaming, and then, as soon as you would begin to struggle to get yourself out and actually wake up for real, it would repeat, happening up to five or six times on a loop until, somehow you were able to pull yourself out of the tangle of dreams, stumbling back into your awareness with a blurry, visceral fear that this too was not real, leaving you with the sick feeling of being caught, ensnared in a trap.

What you hadn’t accounted for, when these dreams started to disrupt your sleep more often than they ever did when you were a child, was him.

But he was there, warm and strong and so, so incredibly real when he held you in the aftermath that really, at the end of the day, falling for him had been easy. 

As easy as it is for you to stumble from your bunk in this moment, quick, urgent footsteps carrying you to the cockpit, your eyes wet as you search for him until finally, finally he’s standing in front of you, and he’s real. You’re reaching for him and collapsing into his arms, legs shaky and threatening to give out, but it’s fine, he has you, and he isn’t going to let you fall.

“Oh, sweetheart.” You feel yourself being lifted, arms gently tucking you against a broad, strong chest as he sinks down into one of the cockpit seats, settling you in his lap. “We’re okay, see? You’re safe.”

His hands brush along your shoulders and back and he frowns, feeling every muscle tense, shaking uncontrollably within his hold. 

“It was the usual one, wasn’t it?”

You sniffle, barely able to look up at him as you shiver, slowly nodding your head. The muscles in his arms flex against your trembling form as his hold tightens slightly. 

“Oh,” he says, sounding disheartened. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

His hands run up and down your arms in a slow, soothing rhythm. 

“I-I couldn’t move this time,” you shudder, belatedly supposing that maybe that’s why your body has decided to shake uncontrollably now that it’s been given the freedom. In all your years of experiencing these loops, sleep paralysis has never been part of the deal, and it frightened you even more than the usual, unsettling loops of false awakenings. Something about being aware of everything around you but being unable to get up or even twitch One of your fingers has rattled something deep within your bones, and it still lingers within your quivering, tensed muscles even now. “I, I could hear my alarm going off but I couldn’t...”

When you say it out loud, it feels stupid, almost ridiculous and silly and certainly not deserving of the amount of fear that’s still rolling off of you like waves right now. But Wrecker—sweet, gentle Wrecker—only gathers you closer to his chest, tender as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Shh,” he soothes, his hand drawing slow, soft circles against the shaky and tensed muscles of your back. “You’ve been so brave, my sweet thing. But it’s okay, see?”

He lightly nuzzles his nose against your hair, taking a slow, steady inhale before dipping to press a soft kiss to the curve of your cheek.

“You’re safe, see?” he whispers, his breath a warm caress against your ear. “I’ve got you, mesh’la. You know I’ll keep you safe.”

“P-Promise?” you ask, trying not to grimace at how small your voice sounds.

“I promise,” Wrecker murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. All you can do is nod, dropping your head to rest against him, feeling yourself continuing to shake as his thumb gently circles between your shoulder blades.

“Do you need anything?” he asks, his voice softened. “Is there somethin’ I can do to make it better?”

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper, still shivering all over despite your best attempt to stop the uncontrollable spasms.

You don’t know how to explain it, don’t know how to tell him without sounding insane that you don’t feel 100% convinced that you’re real at the moment, but somehow, looking down at you with his brows pinched together and his expression contemplative, he figures it out anyway. 

He hums a low, thoughtful sound within his chest before taking your hand between his, slowly guiding it up and beneath his shirt until your palm is pressed against the slow, steady beat of his heart.

“Breathe, cyar’ika,” he whispers, his hand still idly tracing the back of yours as he holds it there. “This is real, I promise. We’re both real, and we’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

He’s been through this particular song and dance with you many times before. By now, he knows and has learned the hard way that asking you to name five things you can see, four things you can hear, etc is often times not very helpful, only serving to stress you out further when it’s too hard for you to form the words because there isn’t a part of you that just won’t stop shaking against him.

But this though. Warm, slightly flushed bare skin beneath yours. His heartbeat is tangible, real, too vivid and too present for even the most realistic of dreams to be able to replicate. His strength, which he could so easily use against you if he wanted to, is only used to hold you gently now, the strong, comforting bulk of him, his muscles settled against you is grounding like a weighted blanket, keeping you tethered to the real and holding your thoughts back from spiraling.

“There we go,” he says in a soft murmur, lips against your hair. He’s begun to rock you gently, still cradled to his chest as your shaking slowly ebbs and subsides, leaving you limp and boneless within his arms. “Doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

You shiver, only this time it’s not out of fear. It’s out of a visceral, pure relief that floods through you as you look up into his warm, amber eyes that are bright with attentiveness and concern. 

“You're real,” you whisper, your voice cracking as you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek. You feel the resulting upward tilt of his lips and he smiles, warm, soft eyes melting with tender, sweet love as he nods his head.

“I’m real,” he confirms, reaching down to bring your hand to his lips, leaving a slow, soft kiss along the back of each knuckle. “And so are you, sweet girl.”

You nod, little by little melting into his strong embrace, and for a while the cockpit is silent save for the soft, synchronized patterns of your breathing as Wrecker’s fingers lightly stroke through your hair.

“It’s still not mornin’ yet,” he says, his voice quiet, cautious. “Do you wanna...maybe lie down for a bit and see if—”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence. 

“No,” you say, uncaring that your voice sounds petulant like that of a child. “I can’t, Wrecker. It isn’t…my bed…it doesn’t feel safe right now.”

Your fingers curl within the material of his shirt, struggling to find the words to explain that the only thing, the only place that feels safe for you right now is here in his arms while he holds you, keeping you grounded...keeping you feeling like you’re real.

“Easy, cyar’ika, ‘s okay.”

He turns your hand over, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of your wrist. 

“I’ll think of somethin’,” he promises, and sure enough, a few moments later, he has.

You watch as he returns from the bunk room, arms laden with pillows and blankets, biting your lip as you tilt your head.

“Where’d you get all those?” you ask, because even with yours and his bedding combined, it wouldn’t be this much.

“Tech’s pillow almost always ends up on the floor, and he usually ends up kicking his blanket off without even noticing during the night,” he explains, offering a small, sheepish grin.

You watch him as he arranges pillows on the floor, only sparing one which he places over his folded legs. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” he beckons, and uncharacteristically timid, you do, letting him arrange you as you settle.

“This one is yours,” he says with careful and precise movements while wrapping a warm and familiar blanket around you. “This one is mine.” 

You blush because before he even says it, you can already tell because the blanket smells like him. 

“And this one,” he says with a flourish that makes you quietly giggle before he gently wraps you up in the last of the three blankets, “is Tech’s, and don’t worry,” he adds, being sure to tuck the blanket beneath your chin, “I’m sure he won’t mind. Now lie down for me, cyar’ika. I’ve got you.”

He gently eases you into a lying position, your head resting against the pillow that’s settled across his lap. It’s now that you realize he’s effectively swaddled you within the blankets, wrapping you up tightly like you’re in some kind of blanket burrito. You sigh, snuggling contentedly down into the soft pile of bedding. 

It is safe, and his hand is in your hair, gently playing with the strands, and that, too, feels safe. You stifle a yawn, only now realizing how tired, how exhausted, really, you feel, and that as well, you know is because you’re safe.

Not only that, you realize. Specifically, it’s because you feel safe with him. Nowhere else, no one else has been able to provide that kind of comfort and surety, and you let out a breath, nuzzling your cheek against his hand when he strokes it, like a tooka asking for more pets. From the low, contented sound he makes within his chest, you don’t think he minds very much as he obliges.

“Close your eyes, mesh’la,” he coaxes, watching you as your eyes begin to flutter. “I promise I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You’re reluctant, because you don’t want to fall back into sleep and its sometimes untrustworthy, careless hands. But you’d also do anything for Wrecker, and really he’s not actually asking you to sleep. He only wants for you to get some rest however you can manage it. So, with some trepidation, you do, his thumb gently brushing along your cheek as you finally allow your eyes to close.

When it’s morning, when you do wake up from a peaceful sleep that you somehow manage to fall into, he’s still there. Strong, OnGard and protective but so, so gentle and soft as he touches you, keeping you safe through the night, just as he promised to do. 

•Thank you to @freesia-writes and @snotbuggle for these wonderful Wrecker themed dividers😊

•If you enjoyed this work, please consider leaving a comment and/or reblog. :-) They are very appreciated

[drrden]

Leon Kennedy Character AI Bots.

All of these are Gender Neutral!

Also my username on there is different now! It's now drrden

"{{user}}." Leon breathes, shakily exhaling your name as if it's a prayer - the gun pointed towards you trembling in his hands. It was inevitable, the confrontation, the realization that he's not entirely loyal to the agency. You've been mission partners for a long while now, and despite some disagreements - you both grew to trust each other. Even with the recurring arguments.

Gaze flickering to the vial of a Plaga sample, his striking blue eyes meet yours once again. "I know what this looks like, and I'm sorry." At this point, it's hard to tell if he's even telling the truth right now. "But what I'm most sorry about? Is the fact that, somewhere along the way in this scheme, I grew to care about you." A shuddering breath. "A lot."

Almost catching himself sleeping already, Leon rests his elbow on the desk, propping his head up as he rests his cheek on his palm; head tilted as he loses focus. The only thing keeping him awake is the music he's listening to, whilst his eyelids flutter from time to time. High school is boring at times. All he cares about is getting good grades and just leaving.

Regardless of his state of fatigue, his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you coming in fashionably late to the lesson. At the time where there's only a free seat straight next to him. Sighing inwardly to himself for whatever reason, he averts his gaze from you quite sharply. Trying to focus on whatever song's playing on his headphones.

With narrowed blue eyes, his gaze follows you as you walk into the office, shoulders tensing as he remains sat in his seat. Scoffing quietly to himself as his attention flickers between the report on the desk and the sight of you entering the room. Safe to say, the two have never exactly been keen on one another. Nor have you seen eye to eye. Which is fine. Apart from the forced proximity from working in the same office. Great.

While it's true he just naturally looks like this, there's obviously got to be some reason as to why his gruff nature only seems to intensify once the two of you are in the same room. Clearing his throat and immediately looking away when he catches himself staring at you to the point where you've finally picked up on it.

You and your group of friends decided to go to a laser tag place. Take the edge off any stress like exams or work. Just a little bit of fun to have. You're not split into teams, and the arena is actually pretty big - there's 30 people in total; obviously not all of them being your friends. Leon's arguably one of the most competitive out of the group, trying his best to ensure he's the one who'll win. In this game of laser tag, once you're shot, you're out.

Traversing through the arena, his gaze lands on you. With a cheeky smirk, he aims his laser tag gun at you and approaches you, pressing it against the laser sensor over your clothes. Right over your heart. Backing you up into a wall whilst being overly dramatic. "Give me one good reason I should keep you alive, {{user}}." Looking over you, his free hand planted beside your head on the wall. Such a drama queen. It's only a game of laser tag.

You've always been close with each other. It's natural, considering you've been best friends for so long. From giddy nights spent by the docks, sneaking out past your bed times with each other just to bask in the familiar company. That was when the two of you were younger, though. The nonchalant hand holding that didn't mean anything. But it seems the two of you have never stopped, regardless. If anything, you're a lot more comfortable.

Fingers interlocked with yours, tugging you along into his bedroom, hushed excited whispers of warning. "Shhh, shhh. We might wake my mom and dad up, babe." That's another thing. The way the terms of endearment escape his lips so easily. Speaking to you the way in which a lover would. Holding you, cuddling you. All in the way that a lover would.

[mychlapci]

Can we talk about vampires then auughhhhghhghhh look I grew up on vampire prowl I need him with fangs

By cybertronian standards maybe being a "vampire" is less of a curse and more just like. A fuel processing defect. Their systems cannot process any type of fuel other than medical grade. And unless you work in a clinic there isn't exactly medical grade energon readily available. The only place to get it is from other mechs' fuel lines

Prowl definitely sees it as a defect. A very shameful defect. He thinks it detestable to have to steal fuel straight from another mech. At least, thanks to Ratchet, he has a pretty reliable (and secret) supply of medical grade. He tends to try to stay along the back lines or even back at base to give his commands from there cos the energon that gets spilt everywhere during a battle drives him crazy. He makes sure to always stay away from the medbay for a while after a fight too.

But yknow things will eventually go wrong. It only takes one unfortunate chain of events to have him end up trapped in a cave with the twins during a mission. The twins are in pretty good shape, all things considered, but they have a few small dents and scrapes here and there. But they are leaking energon. And that's the one thing Prowl can't deal with.

As the twins look around the small space they are trapped in, looking for any possible ways out or maybe a weak crack in the rock, Prowl panics. He never panics. It's unbecoming of him to panic. Oh but he's shaking. He's backed himself into a corner, knees pulled up to his chest, as his doorwings rattle behind him.

Every step the twins take wafts the scent of fresh energon into his olfactory sensors. He's not seen or smelt fresh energon in... in years, millenia even if their time in stasis was considered. He can feel his jaw clench so tight that it hurts. His digits dig into his leg plating so hard it starts to dent.

His tanks suddenly feel so empty. He can see his HUD reflects that he should not be in dire need of fuel yet, but- all his other senses lie to him. There's a sharp pang in his tanks and an ache in his denta that tell him he needs it. Maybe he could just lick the stray drips of energon off- NO. No. He will not stoop to that level.

"-owl? Hey, Prowl! You gonna help us or what?"

Prowl's helm snaps up to see the twins leaning over him

"Yeah, you gonna just sit there and mope? Put your slagging battle computer to use and get us out of here."

Prowl's optics are wide as they dart between the twins. Sideswipe has a trail of energon from the side of his mouth, a crack on his arm, a small gash on his torso. Sunstreaker has a scratch on his cheek, a cut on his leg, a-

"Get away from me." He tries to sound stern. Like he's annoyed.

"Sheesh. We cause a cave in once and he doesn't even want to talk to us."

The twins banter back and forth for a bit as to whose fault it is that Prowl is being so cold with them today, but eventually they stop, realising Prowl isn't even giving them an annoyed look. He ducks his helm between his knees again and his doorwings continue to quiver.

"Hey... Sir, you okay?"

"Yeah did you get hurt or something?"

When Prowl doesn't respond, Sideswipe reaches a servo forward, and that's his mistake. The fresh cut on Sideswipe's forearm at such close proximity sets Prowl off. He grabs the offered arm and immediately larches on, sharp denta digging into the wound to tear it open.

"Ow! Hey- What-"

Sideswipe tries to push Prowl off whilst the tactician moans, fresh energon hitting his glossa.

"Prowl what the frag-" Sunstreaker is immediately in defence of his brother, yanking Prowl off Sides' arm and is shocked by the energon that suddenly spills from Prowl's intake and Sides' arm.

Prowl snarls in annoyance and turns his attention to Sunstreaker. The twin is expecting Prowl to struggle away and is really not ready for Prowl to twist his weight against him instead, knocking him to the ground, shock pinning him for just long enough.

Nasal ridge pressed against thick neck cabling, Prowl growls and feels for the minute charges along the cables, sorting between power and fuel lines, before he bares his fangs and sinks them into the largest fuel line he can identify.

Sunstreaker screams at the sharp pain in his neck. He kicks, but Prowl's mouth is firmly latched onto him, hungrily drinking down the energon that gushes from the wound. His engine purrs in contentment, until Sideswipe's tackles him from the side, launching him off Sunstreaker and onto his back

"FRAG. PROWL."

Prowl snarls and struggles under Sides, faceplates smeared with both twins' energon and sharp denta on full display. His optics are crazed and so bright they are nearly white.

ow this arrived back during the first prowl madness, and has gotten buried since... but I am glad that I can bring up vampire robots today. I need vampire robots. vampirism is like breastfeeding, in a way.

Prowl would be an edgy vamp for sure. But it's not much of a question of morality to him as it is a question of decency and shame. He knows he's not supposed to want to drink energon from living mechs' lines, so he pretends that desire doesn't exist. He has to.

ouh but Sunny and Sides smell so good, all riled up and hot and dripping with warm nutrients. It's a miracle he's lasted as long as he did... he doesn't have much control, living on a steady diet of medical grade and rarely seeing gorey battles made his resolve weak. Being exposed to warm energon drives him crazy. He's on top of Sunstreaker in a second, drinking his fill...

Man, It would be so fucked up if they had to stay trapped together while Prowl just kept trying to eat them. Sideswipe is not sure for how long he can keep Prowl restrained. He mellowed out a little after drinking from Sunstreaker, but he's still got that look on his face-plate, like he's ready to pounce any second now....

[babyboiboyega]

Is This The Love That I Need? (Shuri x Blk!F!Reader)

Shuri x Scientist!Reader

Word Count: 11.8k

Content: fluff, a bit of angst that's made up by some good ole filth so if you aren't 18+, take yo ass ON SOMEWHERE <;3 

Summary: the one where your tumultuous relationship with the Queen crosses a line while you’re on an undercover mission.

A/N: heads up: this oneshot goes from past tense narrative to present only because tumblr deleted the parts that I changed to present tense. Tumblr get on my nerves, chile

But I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Babyboiboyega's Marvel Masterlist

You'd had no intentions of rising to become one of the best scientists in Wakanda, but once you had gained the status of lead scientist, you had no intentions of letting it go. Being one of the top scientists came with its perks, such as being one of the first to know of any new projects that could benefit Wakanda and of any that posed a potential threat. Another perk that came with the title was your constant work alongside the only scientist who ranked higher than you…who also happened to be the Queen of Wakanda.

There were many who would call it a perk- having the chance to work alongside a woman who was the greatest scientist Wakanda, and the world, had ever seen. She was a good ruler and an ever-better scientist; one who was known for her compassion towards her people whether they worked in the palace or not, and for her dedication to further improving Wakanda.

However, despite these true claims…there was another side to Shuri Udaku that you only saw, and that was mainly because you gave her a run for her money in the lab. Nothing disrespectful, as she was still your Queen and you still held a great deal of respect for her, as she did for you; but there was something in your DNA and hers that just automatically made you go at each other when the two of you were in close proximity.

Hell, even when the two of you were in the same room.

Whether it was debating over the best way to go about a project, or you asking her why she was constantly looking over your shoulder when you were in charge of one, there never ceased to be an end to your…less than harmonious partnership. It wasn't something that you could exactly hide, either. The rest of the scientists saw, and usually kept their distance when the two of you got started; and those closer to Shuri definitely saw it, usually rolling their eyes knowingly in the same instance. There was absolutely no chance that you two could hide the little competitive natures of yourselves and how they sometimes clashed.

But you could hide the abundance of feelings that had seemed to slowly accumulate the longer you worked with/for her. You hid the little spark in your chest at her relentless teasing as an agitated breath; you hid the brightening of your eyes as she challenged you with a project as a subtle eye roll; you hid the desire to reach out to her and pull her close even for just a second as fists that clenched in irritation.

You had thought that you were doing so well hiding all of those urges, but all it took was one raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk on Okoye's face for you to realize that maybe you weren't hiding them that well. After that, you had made it your mission to shove those feelings aside, as indulging in them would only result in something that hit a little too close to a fantasy that you knew would be false.

You were *just* a scientist. She was the Queen of Wakanda. The only thing connecting you two was your love for science. That and the urge to prove the other wrong whenever you could. That's all it would be between the two of you, and she seemed to never let you forget.

"Wait…is that the equation you're using? Are you still working on your project with the-?

"Underground sensors for unstable vibranium? Yes."

You didn't have to look away from your workstation to know that a raised eyebrow and a scrutinizing gaze would be awaiting you on Shuri's face. It could be heard in her voice as she continued to question you.

"And this is the project where you're using the methods of-"

"Uncertainty quantification, yes, Your Highness, that's exactly what I am working on, why?"

Sure enough, her expression matched the one you had predicted to be on her face as you finally looked up, removing your goggles and placing them on top of your pulled-back locs. Her lips were slightly upturned, a knowing smile that resembled more of a smirk than anything, and her eyes were slightly narrowed as she contemplated your question. They flickered between the projection of your equations and you before finally settling once more on the former.

"Well, don't you think it would be better to use an adjoint equation? You know, build another formula off of-"

"Off of the integrated parts of this original equation, yes, I'm aware. And I was just about to do that." The last few words were spoken through a tight smile as you set your hands on the table, turning your body more to look at her.

She had a knack for bringing out your most competitive side, and you shared that knack. But unlike you, she also had a specialty of seeking you out no matter which part of the lab you were in, so it only made sense for you to always argue with her, right? She had taken a few minutes out of her precious time to find you and grate your nerves in just the slightest; you couldn't let that time spent together go to waste.

"Oh, okay. Because…well, it kind of looked as if you were about to use that equation to solve the UQ."

You took a moment to let out a breath in her direction before turning back to your project, your hands swiping the appropriate variables of said equation until it formed a new, and more correct, one. Once it was formed, you turned back to her, a smile on your face that expressed exactly what you thought of her looking over your shoulder.

Instead of replying, she simply stepped closer to your work area, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she looked over the equation…as if she were critiquing it. She pulled her arms behind her back, walking around it until she could stand right next to you. You had to try your hardest to not draw in a deep breath of the subtle but almost always dizzying smell of her scent as she drew closer; amber and something else that beckoned for you to step closer and take another deep breath.

Even when she was looking over your shoulder and firing off slick comments toward you, your attraction to her didn't wane one bit.

"Your Highness, I think the General wishes to speak to you."

If you had been looking, you would have seen the way she subtly rolled her eyes as the title fell from your mouth to address her. *'Your Highness'.* She expected to be called that by the other scientists, the elders, and anyone else who didn't really know her. And one could argue that you didn't really know her…and Shuri would probably agree…to a certain extent. Despite that, the fact remained that you were no regular scientist *to her*.

She just didn't know exactly how to explain that to you, which is why she always picked you as the scientist who she would constantly tease and rile up. There was a line that she'd never cross, and whenever she saw that she was crossing it and riling you up *too* much, she'd make sure to dial it back.

But until that line appeared, she'd continue to poke every single one of your buttons; and she continued to do so as she urged you to 'look over that equation' before leaving your workstation and walking to Okoye.

The General watched as Shuri approached, her calculating eyes flickering back and forth between you and her. An eyebrow raised once the young queen stopped in front of her, and the sight of it only made Shuri pause in question.

"You needed me?"

"When are you going to say something?"

Shuri's actions paused, her hands gripping the edge of her own workstation at Okoye's words. Her head swiveled, quickly finding you before she let out a breath at seeing you oblivious to the conversation that was veering towards the topic of you. When she turned back to Okoye, her eyes held a warning, albeit, one that wasn't malicious at all.

"Okoye, now is not the time. Maybe we can talk about this when we aren't in my lab? Or at another time…or never."

A dismissive sound left Okoye's mouth, her hand waving slightly. While her eyes continued to glance over at you, her words were directed toward the young woman in front of her.

"Leave it to you, and you'll never say anything. Now I don't want to intervene, but-"

"But nothing, you will do no such thing."

The finger Shuri pointed at Okoye was not intimidating in the slightest, even if it held a good bit of power more than Okoye possessed. The General showed exactly what she thought of it as she rolled her eyes slightly, stepping closer to the workstation that separated them.

"Anyway…I'm here to discuss the mission plans you drafted. Specifically, the part where you planned on doing this *alone*."

Shuri's expression turned more stoic at the change in topic, her head nodding as Okoye spoke. Yet, at hearing the skepticism and disapproval in her voice, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Of course, I planned on doing this alone. It's an easy mission- easy enough for me to complete myself. Get into the gala, find the room with the correct computer system, get the needed information, and leave."

The first warning Shuri received came in the form of Okoye leaning her spear against her workstation with a dull thud, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her muscled arms crossed in front of her, and then she was taking a step forward.

"You're the sovereign ruler of an entire nation, Shuri; you can't just disappear from the gala without raising suspicions. The mission will be compromised before it even begins."

The second warning Shuri got was the sight of Okoye's head tilting and her lips parting in disbelief. One would think that she'd use all of the knowledge she retained about Okoye from the years of knowing her and put it to good use, but sometimes, the young royal just had to push her luck.

"I'll say I was in the bathroom or something. Shouldn't be too hard."

The statement had been more joking than not, as Shuri knew the excuse wouldn't fly in the slightest, but the small, shit-eating grin on her face quickly disappeared as soon as the words left her mouth. 

The darkening of Okoye's disapproval on her face was the third, and last, warning Shuri received before the General launched into one of her lectures about tactics, skills, and working smarter, not harder.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but eavesdrop slightly on the conversation between the two women. Your proximity to them coupled with their hushed voices meant you could only make out a few words, but it was enough for you to realize that they were speaking of the computer system from the states that had managed to sneak past Wakanda's protective technological wall. It had been for just a second before you were able to shut it out, but that second could turn into more if you all failed to understand how they were able to do so in the first place. The last you had heard, they were busy coming up with a mission that would help them obtain the information necessary for the problem.

It'd be a field mission, and the computer system would be in the same building as a gala that would be hosted by the person you all suspected developed the program. It'd be much easier to get the program itself and find out about it than talk to a human who could, and probably would, lie through their teeth.

As far as you knew, your part would come into play after the programming was obtained. You'd take it apart link by link, firewall by firewall until you could find out every single thing about it. You'd be able to do it from the comfort of your workstation in the lab, which was normal. You were a scientist…you didn't do fieldwork.

So when your name is suddenly mentioned alongside the words 'undercover' and 'operation', of course, your head snaps up and in the direction of the two women only to see them already looking at you. Your eyes narrow as they met Shuri's gaze, your lips pursing in suspicion.

"Miss Y/L/N?" Okoye's strong voice carries across the lab, and when accompanied by the wave of her hand, you know what she's asking you to do. You have to press a few buttons in order to safely store away the chemicals you're working with, and you do so with an inaudible sigh before turning and making your way to them.

"Your Highness…General…you called?" There's a certain level of nonchalance in your tone as you address them, but they're used to it. Working alongside Shuri meant sometimes working alongside Okoye, and you had passed 'just a scientist' status in her eyes as well.

"What are you doing this coming Friday?"

You hear her question, but you're a little preoccupied trying to discern Shuri's thoughts just from her facial expression. Her eyebrows pinch together slightly, a prominent frown on her face, yet her eyes refuse to meet yours. It's a stark difference from the teasing look she had worn not even 10 minutes ago when had spoken to you…what could have happened between then and now?

"I don't think I'm doing anything, as of yet. Why?"

"Well, now you are."

Okoye doesn't give you a chance to respond in any way before she's explaining the plans that she's thrown you into. Her voice is the only one you hear the entire time, as Shuri busies herself with fiddling with the various tools on her desk. Your eyes continuously glance at her, trying to gauge any kind of reaction but to no avail. Even when Okoye stops, asking you if you have any questions, she still remains silent. But now, it isn't lost on you why she remained silent.

"So, let me clarify. You want me to attend a gala…in America…with The Queen. And then at this gala, I have to find the computer that broke through our defenses, hack into it while American miscreants are walking around with primitive guns, get the information we are looking for, and then go back to the gala as if nothing has happened?"

You thought it was outlandish coming from Okoye's mouth, but as you relay the plan back to her, you come to the conclusion that it's more than outlandish. It's preposterous; ludicrous; atypical; as a few Americans say, 'backasswards'. Your thoughts are clear on your face as you look quickly between the two of them, looking for any sign that they're both playing some kind of twisted joke. 

The apprehensive look in Shuri's eyes coupled with the firm set of Okoye's mouth tells you enough, and it only makes it more real for you. The prospect of what you're doing makes your heart skip a beat in nervousness as you shake your head quickly.

"Wait, I don't have a morsel of experience in the field. I can't do this, I'm just a scientist. I'm supposed to stay here, in this lab."

You try your hardest to keep the desperation out of your voice despite having the feeling tighten your chest. While you aren't too keen on the plan and having been introduced to it without prior knowledge, you also aren't too keen on seeming as afraid as you actually feel. 

There's a deep-seated knowledge that even if you do let your fear show, you know that neither of the women will make you feel bad about it. They'd both been in their fair share of situations that had resulted in the same heart-pounding, hand-sweat-inducing symptoms you were going through...but they hadn't complained. At least not in front of you...or anyone, for that matter. 

"I agree, this mission is too risky for it to be her first. There has to be something else we can do. Okoye...I can do this."

A desperation of her own laces Shuri's words as she attempts to sway Okoye once again, her eyebrows set in a determined frown. You don't know if it's a desperation for her to simply go alone...or a desperation to leave you there in the lab, and contemplating the latter option only opens up the door for more questions pertaining to Shuri's thoughts when it comes to your role in this plan.

"You agree that I'm just a scientist, that I can't do this, or both?" 

The words are falling from your lips faster than you can stop them, though as soon as they're out in the open, you find that you don't want to take them back. A sliver of annoyance quickly accompanies the fear you feel, spurred on by Shuri's determination to have you stay there. 

You had been included in the plan for a reason, and that was because your skills could be utilized. And while you're still incredibly hesitant to actually agree to it, the thought of Shuri already being under the impression that you wouldn't do it because you couldn't was enough for you to let the question fly.

It clearly catches her by surprise if her raised eyebrows and frozen movements are anything to go by. She looks at you for a second, presumably trying to pinpoint the change in your disposition regarding the plan, before slowly shaking her head. 

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Frustration had already been radiating off of her when you had initially joined the conversation, but now, as you seem to challenge her in the slightest in regards to what she truly thought, that frustration seems to grow. 

The dynamic, unique to only you two, is being slightly stretched and warped. You were confused as to why. 

The easy answer would be something along the lines of this mission being an important one, as it would lead the search to find whoever had dared to try and gain access to Wakanda. It only makes sense that she wants to make sure nothing will go wrong, but does she think that it can go wrong if you were there? 

"I may be just a scientist, but I am more than capable of doing what is asked of me. Especially when it comes to Wakanda's security."

Shuri knows that better than anyone; that's something she has no problem admitting to herself. She's seen your skills put to the test multiple times, and each time, you'd come out on top. It doesn't matter if its a genuine problem that needs fixing or if it's just something she had given you to be a pest; this problem is the former. 

As soon as it had happened, you had alerted Shuri…after already fixing the problem, of course. It had been one of the few times where her words were only laced with gratitude and not an *almost* endearing amount of sass. Unbeknownst to you, it had been the moment her feelings had solidified for you; seeing you explain something so complex but in a clear and concise way in order to solve the problem quicker had been…well, to put it simply, attractive. She had admired you while you had explained the problem to her, and she had only torn her gaze away when you had questioned if she was alright, much to her embarrassment.

It had been one of the only moments where she had feared that her real feelings had leaked through her words and actions, and it had only led to the fear that it would threaten the peculiar relationship between you two. It wasn't exactly fragile, but she wasn't willing to risk it. 

Especially when she had no clue as to whether you viewed her as none other than a royal member who barked orders in the lab or as something else. 

"I agree, you are more than capable. It's just-"

"If you agree, then why don't you want me to join you on this mission?"

Shuri's eyes widen slightly in exasperation as you interrupt her. Instead of answering, she merely walks around her station until she's standing in front of you, her eyes meeting yours in an intense look that seems almost as if she's trying to convey something.

"I never said that I *didn't* want you to join me-"

"If that's the case, then you wouldn't mind me coming along." Purely to spite you, you added on silently. 

"I didn't say that either-"

A metallic thud echoing through the lab is enough to stop the conversation before it turns into one of your infamous debates that almost everyone has had a front-row seat to. The sound makes the both of you turn to Okoye, your mouth snapping shut in the face of the General's stern look of warning. She points between the two of you as if to admonish two children, which, in her eyes, you two are. 

"I will not allow you two to argue the entire time and potentially compromise the mission. Get this...bickering out of your system while you're here, because first thing tomorrow morning, you two will be on your way to the States."

She says the words quickly as if to chastise you, all in an attempt to make you two stop. She's seen exactly how long the two of you can go back and forth, and if she were honest with herself, she'd say that she was growing a little tired of the obvious avoidance and dancing around the two of you were engaging in. But it seems that even the mention of an important mission isn't enough to stop the inevitable debate and bout of bickering, as all it takes is another comment from Shuri for it to start back up again. 

The General can only shake her head and turn on her heel, leaving the lab with the sound of you two relentlessly throwing verbal jabs at each other floating after her. 

There's more than a good chance that the mission won't cut down the amount of arguing between you, but maybe it'll be good for something else.

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

The hotel's ballroom is filled with a crowd that shares the same demographic, status, and wealth, amongst other things. However, despite the homogeneity of the ball's crowd, you find that the universe may be on your side as you immediately notice a number of other attendees who have ranging shades of melanin dotting the crowd. It's a relief for two reasons: it fills that part of your chest that's used to hoping for more faces that look like your own whenever you leave Wakanda, and it also means that the majority of eyes in the room won't solely be on you.

That's not to say that there aren't any eyes on you, as you've already met more gazes than you can count that have already been focused on you, skepticizing and for the sole purpose of sizing you up. Though the weight of their gazes is bearable as you make your way through the ballroom, letting your lips curl into a smile that requires minimal effort. There’s not an ounce of sincerity behind the smile, but neither is there sincerity behind the smiles of every person in attendance. This is simply a get-together for those with deep pockets who like to pretend as if they’re satisfied in life; in truth, you can clock the competitive gazes most of them share with each other, always wondering how deep the other’s pockets are and wondering how’d they get that deep. They’re too busy comparing themselves to each other that they barely notice the unfamiliar and lone black woman with the black, floor-length ball gown and elaborately styled locs at the nape of her neck as you make your way to the open bar settled along one of the walls. 

Not to mention that the kinds of people who are in attendance are usually the ones who forget the faces of those who they don't deem 'worthy enough' of their time.

But there’s one pair of eyes that you can feel burning into your skin, even as she stands at the other end of the elegant bar, the people around her trying in vain to hear her opinion on whatever tone-deaf topic they’re talking about. You have the urge to turn and look at her, possibly find a way to communicate with her that maybe she should stop looking so damn hard lest the white people around see two black women looking at each other and automatically assume that they’re together…which would make sense because you are together, but it certainly wouldn’t make it easier to be inconspicuous.

But instead of doing so, you simply smile and order the first cocktail you can think of. 

“Hi, I’ll have a Rose Sangria, please.” Your words are lost amidst the other patrons giving their orders to the other bartenders, but one seems to hear you, as evident by the way she nods and sends you a stressed, and rather rehearsed, smile. She says nothing about your order, nor the way your American ‘accent’ also seems a little too rehearsed. 

You hadn’t been given an entire cover story, mainly because the point was to complete the mission before you would need to explain yourself to someone, but it had been recommended that you take on some kind of alternate identity. You weren’t going to alter your appearance in any way, so the next best thing was adopting an accent for the night. Okoye had critiqued the accent you had chosen- a woman from the southern states who shortened words to fewer syllables and who also held a rather charming drawl- and had told you that while it was always better to be prepared, you may not even have to use it. And while you were perfectly content using it just this once to order a drink, solely to keep up appearances, you admittedly found yourself wanting to look over at Shuri to see her reaction to the unfamiliar accent that left your mouth. 

Though it turns out that you wouldn’t have to look at her, as a confused sound echoed through your comms right after you spoke. 

“Since when were you a Southern bell?”

“Uh, about a minute ago, it seems,” You mumbled, knowing that she’d be able to hear you regardless. Between one glance around the room and the next, a glass was being pushed toward you on a small napkin. You only had time to send an appreciative smile before the bartender was off to the next drink. 

“And since when do we drink on missions?”

The urge to roll your eyes at Shuri’s teasing, yet curious, voice goes through you as you turn on your stool to face the room. With your back leaning against the edge of the bar, you give off the perfect appearance that you’re simply people-watching and not at all like you’re waiting on your cue to slip out of the large room and into a secured one. 

“Y’all may not drink on missions, but this is my first one, so I think I have an excuse.”

“...Did you just call us ‘y’all’? Okoye, did you hear her-”

“You two are doing a lot of talking for two people who are in public.”

You make it a point to stop talking immediately, your smile growing as you offer it as a greeting to whoever’s eyes you catch. You also know that Okoye has a point and that no matter how hard you tried to seem subtle, there was always someone watching, and the last thing you needed was to be seen seemingly talking to empty air. 

But in the absence of you and Shuri’s talking, you opt to let your eyes slowly roam over to where you had last seen her, which was a mistake. One that you couldn’t take back. One that you didn’t know if you wanted to take back. 

Almost as if to make the mission even more difficult, the universe decides to put you and Shuri in the perfect spots on opposite sides of the room that allow you a full and unobscured view of her. The last you had seen of her had been before the gala, where she had worn a white, almost skin-tight crop top, with a black, unbuttoned collared shirt over it, and black joggers. 

That outfit contrasted greatly with the suit she wore now in the best way imaginable. 

The suit itself was a deep black, the collar a smooth silk material that brought out every tone of melanin that had the pleasure of being on her body. A number of jewels, undoubtedly vibranium, wrapped over and under her shoulders before forming a harness-like piece on her back…which also allowed one’s eyes a glimpse at the smooth, toned skin of her back. 

Even from where you sat, you could see the sparkle of each jewel she wore- including the ones she wore as earrings. Despite the sparkles that screamed luxury and that caught the attention of nearby attendees, you were focused on her. It was hard not to; especially when she looked as good as she did. 

The gloss layered on her lips reflected the slightly dimmed lights of the ballroom, and each time she nodded or moved even slightly, that same light reflected off of her smooth skin, acting as an immediate beacon for your eyes.

How in Bast’s name were you expected to go about this mission regularly when you now couldn’t tear your eyes away from her? How would you be able to convince yourself that these feelings of yours were nothing but a phase that you *needed* to get out of?

“-/N? Y/N, are you in position?” 

Okoye’s voice and her words quickly broke you out of your…reverie? Daydream? Fantasy? Whatever it was, and only thrust you into another reverie. One that involved your own worries about being able to complete your part of the mission. 

“I am.” 

“Good, because you’ve got about a minute and 30 seconds to get to the target area. The camera feed is replaced.”

It's almost as if she literally lit a fire under your ass with the way you downed the small glass of liquor, trying your hardest to not make a face at the burn of it, before standing from your stool. Your eyes glanced once more in Shuri’s direction, only to realize with a small jolt that she was already looking at you with an undecipherable expression. 

Her eyes were unabashed as they regarded you across the room, and if you were close enough, you would’ve seen the reassurance in them. It was no secret that you were more than a little nervous about this…but there was no time to dwell on those nerves. Not anymore. 

“Alright. Heading up now.”

With every step you took toward the hallway, you sent a quick prayer to Bast, praying that you wouldn’t be stopped. You had seen multiple attendees pass through the doors leading to the hallways, and it was just your luck that there was also a stairwell that lead right to the floor you needed to go to. And it was an even bigger stroke of luck that the hallway was empty for the time being, allowing you to slip into the stairwell and ascend the stairs to the right floor.

You didn’t realize that you were holding your breath until you finally let go of it with a heavy sigh once the door shut behind you. The room was just the way you all expected it to be; filled with a variety of technology that looked too expensive and too advanced to be legal in the hands of its owner. The reason behind your presence just further proved that it was in the wrong hands, as a piece of technology in this room had been behind the momentary breach. 

“I’ve reached the target area. Scanning for the breach’s origin.” The scan consisted of a quick tap to one of your kimoyo beads and watching as it sent out a beam of light that roamed over the entire room. Once the origin was located, the beam stopped, pointing you right in the direction and allowing you to start the next part of the mission. “I’ll alert you when I’ve downloaded the program…hello?”

The confusion in your voice quickly gave way to caution as you waited, and failed, to hear a response from either Shuri or Okoye. Their silence didn’t stop your fingers from flying over the keys of the nearest computer, effortlessly breaking through each security wall that needed to be broken and patching each one that would keep your presence a secret. While the thought of you suddenly being alone without a clue as to what Shuri or Okoye were doing made you nervous, that didn’t take away from the fact that you had a job to do. It certainly made it easier to focus on the task at hand as you rifled through the various programs on the computer, each one more advanced and more invasive than the last. Wakanda hadn’t been the only nation the program had breached, but it had certainly been the hardest. 

Your eyes expertly scanned over every bit of information you could retain as your kimoyo bracelet downloaded the needed information, and it all made your eyebrows furrow in both confusion and concern. Whoever, or whatever, had created this program had done so with the sole intention of using it as a weapon, and you were willing to bet that their efforts to breach Wakanda’s security stemmed from a desire to get their hands on technology that would help. 

“Can anybody hear me?” You spoke softly, quickly collecting your kimoyo beads once more before locking the computer and turning toward the door. Your steps were quick but nearly quiet as you approached the door, your mind now turning to the task of joining the gala once more undetected. 

“If you can hear me, I’m on my way back to the gala. Those aren’t just regular programs, they’re some of the most secured ones I’ve seen for an American-”

Your words break off with a hitch as your steps quickly halt, and it's all because of the sudden appearance of a shadow that looms under the door to the room that you’re in. You hadn’t heard any footsteps and the appearance of it has you looking around in a panic, your eyes widening as if that could make a hiding space more apparent. Upon not seeing a space that could serve as one, you reach for the door handle with the intention of locking it…though the knob is turning and the door is opening before you can even grab it, and all you can think is ’I just completely ruined my first ever mission’.

“Oh, thank Bast you’re still here-”

“Shuri?!” 

Both of your voices are whispered yells as you come face to face with the monarch, her expression undoubtedly mirroring yours in its exasperation and shock…and relief. 

“I was just coming down- why haven’t you been responding?” 

Shuri glances back out of the door she just closed before her eyes are landing on you. There’s a certain look of confusion and frustration in her eyes, and you’re honestly too wired to contemplate whether its because of you or not.

“Okoye did a scan of the building and it showed a series of advanced EMP’s on each floor. The kimoyo beads made it past the EMPs, but we think a virus or program originating from this room scrambles any airwave that isn’t configured to the program’s specific signature. As soon as you came in here, your comms went dead. We thought your cover was blown.”

So that explains the wide-eyed, almost worried look in her eyes as she gazes at you. Even in the face of something as concerning as a series of technological programs that could be used as weapons, you still find your heart increasing and your chest tightening at the thought of Shuri being worried. 

Bast…you really need to get your priorities and emotions in check.

Your mouth opens, ready to relay to Shuri what you’ve found, only to watch as she tenses. Her shoulders raise slightly as she turns towards the door, her eyebrows raising as she seems to be listening to something you can’t quite hear yet. 

“Shuri…what is it?”

She responds by grabbing your wrist, her fingers lowering to deftly wrap around your hand as she pulls you towards the door. It doesn’t take long for you to hear the same thing she hears: two sets of footsteps walking towards the door you two are behind, the wide beams of the guards’ flashlights shining underneath the door. 

“Ah, sihogo,” Shuri hisses, her hand tightening slightly around yours as the footsteps grow closer. Her head turns back to the room, presumably looking for the same thing you had been looking for at her arrival: a hiding spot of some kind, or maybe an alternate route. Its apparent the second she realizes that there’s neither a hiding spot or an alternate route, as she lets out a deep sigh before clicking the lock of the door.

“Listen to me,” she starts, her hand tugging you to stand in front of her. Her eyes are slightly wide with the intention of using them to emphasize her next words; but unbeknownst to her, you have no problem concentrating on the words that leave her mouth. 

“When they unlock the door, I’ll distract them long enough for you to get past them. Don’t let them see your face or even touch you- just go back to the gala, and I’ll be right behind you-”

“Shuri, we can’t fight our way out of this- that’ll draw more attention than anything!”

“There is no we- you’re going back to the gala- I’ll make sure you get by them.”

The sound of the door handle rattling followed by the confused voices of the guards adds onto the air of chaos surrounding you two. The sound makes your eyes widen while also making an almost absurd idea pop into your mind. Though as Shuri moves to push you behind her, you find the idea a little hard to verbalize. 

“Let’s think about this- there has to be a better way than fighting guards in a sparkly suit, Shuri-”

“There’s nowhere to go!” She whispers back quickly, her hand raising and reaching for the necklace that encircles her neck; the same one that holds the nanotech technology of her suit. “We’re cornered in a restricted area. This is the only entrance and exit point-no windows. What do you want me to do, Y/N?” 

“Kiss me.”

Her look of confusion is immediate as her head whips to look at you, her body following as she turns completely. Her proximity allows you to see the way her eyes quickly flicker to your lips before meeting yours once again, widening slightly more as she comprehends your request. 

“You want me…to kiss you?”

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable-”

The sound of the door being unlocked goes through the room right as her lips part to offer another ruse, or maybe ask another question. You wouldn’t blame her; the ‘distraction’ seems like you’re trying to cop a feel on her under stressful circumstances, and the realization that it could be interpreted as that has you quickly shaking your head, your lips parting to take it back immediately. 

The last thing you’re expecting her to do is to pull you abruptly into her chest with the hand already wrapped around yours. You certainly didn’t expect her hand to tilt your chin up while her other hand let go of yours to wound around your waist, pulling your waist flush against hers. 

You sure as hell didn’t expect your next breath to be interrupted by the feeling of her lips moving against yours.

There are a number of sounds distantly registering in your brain: the door opening, the guards’ surprised exclamations, their stuttering as they grow uncomfortable with the embrace they’ve just walked in on; but none of them matter because Shuri is kissing you. Shuri is kissing you.

Shuri is kissing you, and you’re kissing her back with everything you’ve got, sacrificing each breath in exchange for another second of feeling her lips against yours. 

Her hand is sliding along the length of your jaw until her long, slender fingers can wrap around the back of your neck. Her thumb stays right on the edge of your jaw, and she uses it to tilt your head further back. It only prompts your lips to part, almost on instinct, and there’s a small part of your foggy brain that’s urging you to stop before it can go any further. To spare yourself the trouble of accepting the fact that a kiss that could potentially go so far ends up being just that: a kiss done in the heat of both of you’s adrenaline and desperation for some form of diversion. 

“Uh, e-excuse me. Hey!”

You pull back with a gasp, your eyes wide as you meet Shuri’s, who are just as wide as yours. Her lips have the slightest shine to them, a mixture of both of your lip balms covering them, and you can only watch breathlessly as she licks her lips with a hitched breath. 

“Did you hear me? I’m gonna have to ask you two to go back downstairs-”

“We heard you,” Shuri’s voice is too steady to match the undecipherable expression on her face or the slight shakiness in her hands as she takes yours in hers. You’re being tugged towards the door before you can gain your bearings, and only Shuri’s tight grip around your hand keeps you from stumbling slightly. 

“We’re leaving.”

Her steps lead the both of you to the elevator at the end of the hall, in the opposite direction of the stairwell you’d used to get there. The sound of the guards’ confused voices float down the hallway as they close and lock the door behind you two, their gazes staying on you until the elevator opens and you two step in. 

Your gaze stays on the elevator doors as they close, your breath still heavier than usual. The sensation of Shuri’s lips on yours linger even when you two aren’t embracing anymore, making your lips tingle. Its borderline disorienting, as it makes your mind replay every moment leading up to and during the kiss in great detail. It nearly causes you to miss the sound of your comm’s device coming back on, Okoye’s voice sounding in you and Shuri’s ears. 

”Hello? If one of you don’t respond in the next 5 seconds-”

“We’re okay, Okoye.” Shuri is quick to respond to the General, her voice still low and steady, though if the way she clears her throat means anything, you’re willing to bet that she’s just as shaken at the moment that just passed. Albeit, for different reasons; reasons that you feel like you have to apologize for. 

“We’re in the elevator now. We’re on our way back to the rooms.”

The thought of finally being able to leave the gala and this role of yours behind makes a small, relieved breath leave you. But your heart only speeds up as Okoye confirms that she’ll be there as soon as you two alert her that you’re ready to leave; it gives you time to go to your own hotel room, of course, booked under a different name, and think even more about what happened. You can’t say for sure whether it's a good thing or bad thing to do, but you know it’ll happen regardless. 

All of your thoughts quickly halt as you feel Shuri’s eyes land on you, and in the small space of the elevator, her heavy gaze feels as if it allows her entire presence to wrap around you. 

“We’re going to have to talk about it at some point.”

Her words are patient, though there’s something in her voice that not only makes you freeze but also alludes to the fact that there are more words coming; words that you know for a fact you aren’t ready to hear.

“...You’re right. I want to apologize,” You begin, turning to face her, after schooling your features into one of impassiveness. Nonchalance. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position, Your Highness. But to be fair, I didn’t exactly want to end the night with running in heels while you knocked out two security guards-”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, Y/N.”

She turned slightly in your direction, her eyebrows furrowed and her gaze unwavering as she did so. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and it only took a quick glance at them to see that they were clenched slightly, the veins in her arms and hands becoming slightly more prominent. Those hands that had just been pulling you closer, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss-

Your breath shakes slightly as you draw it in, and your eyes flicker away from hers. They’re too intense in the moment; you know that they can see each unspoken word and every hidden emotion you’ve tried stuffing down during the mission. You know that they’re analyzing every breath you take and every time you shift, putting all of her findings together to come to the conclusion that the kiss now took over every thought you had. 

Your words are a sorry attempt at convincing yourself and Shuri as you reply, the edges of your voice shaking slightly. 

"The kiss was just a diversion, I don't know what else to tell you, Your Highness-"

A flurry of movement happens in your peripheral, and as much as you want to turn to look at her, her heated gaze on the side of your face stops you. It takes everything in you to not turn and let go of the words that seem to be trapped in your throat. Instead, you focus on the climbing numbers of the elevator, willing the elevator to stop on the floor that holds both of your rooms. Willing for the doors to open so you can o to your room and maybe drown your troubles and spiraling thoughts in the cheap mini bottles that had been provided.

"You know very well that it wasn't just a distraction, and for Bast's sake, stop calling me that- I hate when you call me that-"

"What, you hate when I call you by your title? That's what you are, Shuri, you're the Queen!" Your heart beats so quickly that you can physically feel it threatening to break your rib cage. It makes your breathing slightly heavier.

"You're my Queen and I'm nothing but a scientist that you like to annoy for some Bast-forsaken reason! That's all I am- that's all we are!"

You planned for your words to be fueled by the irritation brought on by the night's events, but instead, they're only by raw emotion. The relief at finally knowing how her lips would feel on yours bleeds into your words, as well as the desperation of wanting to feel them again; the desperation for her to tell you that you’re wrong and that that isn’t all that you are.

You find your voice cracking in the slightest, and it only prompts a soft curse to fall from your mouth as you turn further away from her. The muscles of your jaw tense as you clench your teeth as if that will hold back the words that remain just at the tip of your tongue.

The silence following your words is deafening, interrupted only by the soft, incessant beeping of the elevator climbing the floors. You have to strain your ears to pick up on the sound of Shuri's breathing over your own, though you don't know why you listen for it. The one thing you need right now is space from the Queen- enough so that you can wrangle your thoughts that you had mistakenly allowed to cross the line drawn between the two of you.

But space isn't what you want, and that realization alone makes you clench your fists hard enough to leave indentations in your palms. It's all in an effort to push back the desire crawling up the length of your arms and the rest of your body, urging you to pull yourself closer to her and continue where you two had left off in that damned room.

But in order to do that, you'd have to know how Shuri felt…and she was still silent, her gaze concentrated on the profile of your being.

The subtle lurch of the elevator accompanied by its ding is your saving grace, and as soon as the doors open, you're hurriedly stepping out and in the direction of your room. Your steps are quick and nearly silent on the carpeted floors, effortlessly leaving Shuri behind to look after you with furrowed eyebrows and a downturned mouth.

"Is it? Is that all you think we are?"

You just barely have your room key out when Shuri's voice floats down the hallway to you, her voice both questioning and frustrated. It grows closer, louder, as she follows you.

"Because I don't. And I know you don't."

With a shaky hand and frustrated breath, you finally swipe it across the door's sensor before pushing it open quickly and s stepping past the threshold. The door doesn't have a chance to shut before Shuri is slinking in behind you, letting the door shut harshly behind her as you throw your bag down onto the couch. There's a line of heat on your back as you do so, courtesy of Shuri's close proximity and the effect only she has on you, and it only makes your actions choppy.

"I know you, Y/N- as much as you may think that I don't." The tense air follows the two of you further into your hotel room, moving and increasing with each breath and each word you two exchange.

It's a tension that had been building ever since you two laid eyes on each other at the beginning of the night, your gazes drawn to the other like a moth drawn to a flame in a darkened room. It's a tension that continues to grow as she continues speaking, stepping so close to you that you can feel her chest brush your back with every breath.

"Like right now. I know what you feel…because I feel the same."

Even with half your mind telling you to step away, to make space for yourself for your own sake, you find that you're unable to move; especially so when she raises her hands. The one that lands gently on your waist is used to keep you in place while the other raises and settles lightly over your heart from behind; it only makes the organ work double time, something Shuri is more than likely aware of.

"I can hear and feel how fast your heart is beating right now. The beating of my own matches yours, and it's all because of you."

Your hands clench into tight fists in an effort to keep them to yourself, disregarding the feeling of unabashed longing that travels through your body.

The way she speaks and touches you is a far cry from how the two of you interacted only earlier that morning. Then, in the comfort of the Royal Talon fighter, your regular teasing and banter filled the cabin with Okoye occasionally telling you two to take a break from said banter.

Now, the dynamic that usually existed between you two was gone. It had been smashed to pieces as soon as you two had embraced in that room and placed your lips against hers, and attempting to pick up the pieces would leave your fingers a bloody mess.

Though as she continues speaking, you find yourself wondering if picking up the pieces was something that you really wanted to do.

"I can feel each breath you take. I know how they quicken whenever I touch you… because your touch does the same to me." Her words are emphasized by her placing her flat palm against the middle of your chest, which proves her exact point as it rises and falls quickly with each, shuddering breath you take.

It feels like a beam of heat traveling through your body, all originating from where her palm presses against your skin. Her breath ghosts over the exposed skin of your shoulders as she continues, leaving a trail of goosebumps that only her touch can soothe.

"And I know…that that kiss wasn't 'just a kiss'. What I don't know is why you won't admit it to yourself or me."

The frustration in her voice quickly fades until it sounds like acute desperation mixed in with apparent longing. Her hands are gentle where they still rest against your body, and even more gentle as she uses them to turn you around to face her.

You're afraid that if you move too much, you'll wake up from whatever dream you've found yourself in, so you turn stiffly and hesitantly. Eyes raising to meet hers, you brace yourself to wake up to the sight of your room back home in Wakanda; but as they meet hers and you see the vulnerability and genuineness that seem so natural in her eyes, your heart skips.

And then when her hands raise to gently cup your face, her thumbs rubbing soothingly and almost reassuringly into the skin of your cheeks, your heart nearly stops. It's enough to make a quick breath leave your mouth, your eyes closing and your head leaning further into her palms.

"You are more to me than a mere scientist."

She tilts your head back, prompting your eyes to open and meet hers once again.

"Yes, I am a monarch. And you are a scientist…one of the best ones I've ever had the pleasure of working with. But that isn't all.

"These labels only dictate how others see us; they don't dictate how we see each other, and I want nothing more than to tell you, show you, how I see you, and how much you mean to me."

The edges of your lips are traced by her thumb as she speaks, sending a very apparent shudder down your spine; one steeped in pleasure and longing that was becoming harder to tamper down.

But then she steps more into your space, every aspect of her being invading your senses. Your breaths mingle in the small amount of space between your faces, echoing each other in terms of heaviness and pace as her hand splays against the small of your back, almost dangerously close to the zipper that holds your dress together. She lowers her head, her lips brushing just slightly over yours with a question; one that sends a shiver so intense down your spine that it pushes you closer to the Queen. 

"Let me show you, sithandwa sam."

The roughness of her voice contrasts greatly with how slow and careful her hands are as they explore as much of your body as they can with you still fully clothed. They ghost over the curve of your ass, pulling you closer until your waist is flush against hers. Her eyes are half-lidded as she waits for your answer, though they’re patient.  And understanding. The look in them acknowledges that this mission started off as just that, but had now quickly delved into something else. 

You’re just barely able to nod when she’s leaning forward once more, her hands slow but firm where they grip you, and her lips soft but unyielding as she places them against yours. The small groan of anticipation and desire that leaves your mouth is quickly and effortlessly swallowed by Shuri’s mouth on yours. 

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to become an echo of the one you two shared under the guise of it being a diversion, except this one is so much more. This one is brought on by nothing but desire and longing that’s been pushed down too much by the both of you. 

***

Her hands that land on the curve of your ass trail lower until both of them have a full grip, and she doesn’t hesitate in squeezing and kneading the skin that she appreciates. She takes your gasp and uses it to let her tongue explore your mouth as she walks you backwards, her hands firm while they make sure you don’t trip over anything. Your body already trembles with the anticipation of seeing how far this goes; how far Shuri is willing to go to show her sentiments physically. 

Your hands raise, twisting into the fabric of her suit’s coat, using it to pull her impossibly closer. Every sense of yours feels as if its dialled to 11: you can feel every caress and squeeze of her fingers on your skin; you can hear every gasp she takes in order to continue kissing you longer; the smell of her fragrance surrounds you until you’re almost dizzy with the arousal it evokes from you; and the taste of the drinks you both had mingle to make the kiss even more intoxicating. 

Her movements are quick with lust but not rushed; she makes sure to take her time unzipping your dress until the fabric is loosely sliding down your frame, leaving you in your black bra and underwear set, though it leaves little to Shuri’s imagination due to the practically see through lace. She certainly isn’t complaining as she disconnects her lips from yours, her eyes roaming hungrily over your body and the skin that's exposed. They linger on each curve, each mark, each dimple- every aspect that has a role in making you, and with every pass of her eyes, her hands follow. 

If your breath shuddered before, it all but stops as her hands ghost over the shape of your breasts, her thumbs seeming to pay special attention to your nipples that push against the fabric. Each pass of her fingers over them makes a jolt of what feels like electricity streak through your body, and you don’t realize that you’re pushing yourself more into her hands until her head is dipping. 

A throaty hum leaves her mouth as she presses hot, open mouthed kisses against the swell of your breasts peeking over your bra. Her hands cup both of them, almost pushing them together as she continues her ministrations on your skin. Your eyes flutter slightly, though they’re quickly drawn to the mirror across the room and how it gives you a perfect view of what she’s doing. 

The sight of you standing before Shuri in nothing but a pair of underwear and a bra while she still wears her entire suit makes another wave of arousal wash over you, and it makes itself known with the warmth and slickness between your legs. Your soft breath of anticipation is only joined by Shuri’s deep inhale that only turns into a groan of her own. Your eyes remain on the mirror even as she pulls back just enough to step around you, her chest pressing to your back. Her eyes meet yours in the mirror before dipping down to take in your body once more, and its nearly impossible to keep your thighs from clenching together, the slightest bit of your stimulation making your breath hitch. But it isn’t enough. It won’t be enough until you’re shaking under Shuri’s touch; until you forget which way is up or down.

She steps forward, using her body to guide you towards the bed behind you, and as you fall onto the mattress, she doesn’t waste a second in climbing over you. Her lips are hungry as they kiss, lick, nip every inch of skin she can reach. Her path takes her down the valley between your breasts, her lips pressing against one nipplie while her hand gently kneads the other. 

Her hands are gentle as she uses them to push your thighs apart, prompting a heavy breath to leave you. You can feel your own arousal dampening your underwear…and the feeling of Shuri’s tongue pressing flat against your clit through them makes them even damper. 

Your hands immediately twist into the covers beneath you, your hips involuntarily bucking off of the bed. The quick breathing leaving your lips grows closer to pants of desperation as you watch her press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, her eyes closing as if she’s drawing her own pleasure from the taste of you, which she is. As much is evident in the way her eyes open, even darker than ever, and hold yours while her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your underwear. The pace with which she pulls them down makes shiver after shiver wrack down your spine.

“Shuri, please…” 

There’s no hiding the pleading in your voice as your voice breaks the heavy silence, and there’s no stopping the way it quickly morphs into a small whine as you see her eyes focus on your pussy before flickering to yours and back.

“Give me a second…” Her voice is a mumble, though you can still hear the slight shakiness of it. Her eyes, half lidded with pleasure, remain on your pussy, as if she has no problem kneeling between your legs for the rest of the night and just taking in the sight of you. 

“Do you know…how hard it was, watching you from across the room? Knowing that I couldn’t take you somewhere just big enough for me to have you the way I’ve been longing to? Hm?”

There’s nothing in the world- in the universe that can prepare you for the feeling of Shuri’s tongue licking a stripe through your folds, and the sound that it brings from your mouth is loud and sinful. 

She doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath after that. Her fingers tighten where they’re gripping your thighs, and with a small growl in the base of her throat, she’s lifting your knees towards your ears. A gasp leaves your mouth at the action, your eyes fluttering shut as her breath puffs lightly against the slickness gathering between your legs. 

“Bast, I’ve never wanted to a rip a dress so badly.”

One of her hands leaves your thigh only to replace it with yours, her fingers guiding yours to hold your thigh in the same place while hers lowers. The sensation of her fingers dipping beneath your folds, gathering every bit of your essence before spreading them. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth doesn’t stop your wanton months from spilling out, just as taking a deep breath does nothing to prepare you as you see Shuri’s head descends more. 

The only warning you receive is the soft hum that leaves her mouth, and then her lips are closing over your pussy. Her tongue is dipping, caressing, and licking relentlessly, each lap bringing you to another height of pleasure that you’ve never experienced before…and that you know you’ll never experience from anyone ever again. 

Your hips buck as she presses deeper, her eyes closing as she gladly looses a few seconds of breath in turn for a few more seconds of her senses being filled with you. Your taste, the feeling of your hips moving in the perfect way that allows your pussy to ride the expanse of her tongue that she gladly offers. 

Time continues to distort the longer she’s buried between your legs. It speeds up and slows down as she uses her tongue and her fingers to the best of her ability to bring you to another level of pleasure, one that has your entire body trembling. It certainly helps that she continues her actions in complete silence, allowing you to hear every hum, grunt, and moan of hers as she eagerly laps up everything you have to offer. It allows you to hear every sinful sound resulting from her tongue or her fingers dipping into you before pulling out. 

Two of her slender fingers press past your folds, her wrist rolling and changing the angle of them until her thumb could swipe firmly across your clit, making a ragged gasp leave your mouth. Your walls tighten around her fingers, and it brings a drawn out moan from her mouth. 

Its unbelievable how well Shuri is able to read your body despite this being the first time, hopefully out of many, that she’s found pleasure and a strong desire within it. Her fingers separate with each thrust, reaching a depth within you that seems almost impossible and making a band of white appear behind your eyelids. 

Your lips part on a number of moans, pants, and soft cries as you try your hardest to hold onto your sanity, though with every stroke, a piece of it crumbles away. 

Her mouth is soon added into the experience, covering the entirety of your pussy as her hand speeds up. It isn’t long until your breathing speeds up, matching each thrust of her fingers as she lets her tongue run over your clit in a pattern that's…that's as disorienting as it is intoxicating. It changes from time to time, each lap gaining more meaning the closer you grow to cumming. It takes a while for your muddled and disoriented thoughts to t to put together each rotation, each sharp curl, each languid lick of her tongue; and when you finally do, your breath becomes trapped in your chest, and your orgasm is crashing over you and muddling your senses.

Your mind completely blanks as your lips part on a silent moan, your back arching away from the bed and more into Shuri’s mouth. Up becomes down and left becomes right because…as if to further prove that you’re hers, the letters her tongue spells against your clit join behind your eyelids until they form her name. Her name.

Shuri was spelling her name.

It crests over you in waves, each one more intense than the last as a ragged gasp tears from your mouth. Her fingers continue their motions, rubbing at that spongy spot inside of you that, for the time being, controls every part of your body. You can only hear static, and you don’t know if your eyes roll back completely or if you close them from the pure pleasure wracking through your body, alighting every nerve of yours on fire.

Shuri's hand that that’s holding your thigh moves until it snakes up your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps before settling on the curve of your breast, her thumb tweaking your now oversensitive nipple. It makes a jolt go through your body while also prolonging the waves of pleasure that threaten to drown you.

Your back arches off of the bed beneath you while your hand moves on its own accord, one fisting in Shuri's curls while the other clutches tightly at her hand. Her nose rubs against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, prompting you to pull her closer by her curls.

Your legs threaten to close around her head, but by sheer willpower, you manage to keep them open. But that's before your hearing returns, enabling you to hear Shuri's voice from where she’s still buried between your thighs. Her hand clutches at yours, threading your fingers together, acting almost like a lifeline for when the waves of pleasure finally take you…ironically, the waves of pleasure she’s causing.

"Breathe, usana. Breathe through it, love. Bast…you're so pretty…and you're all mine, aren't you?"

You want to answer, to confirm that you’re in fact hers in every sense of the word, but her actions suck all of the air out of the room. You think that she’s pushed you over the edge before, but then those words of praise leave her mouth…and then she angles her hand in just the right way and curls her fingers…and that's what makes the world fall away from beneath you.

Her words coupled with the vibrations they send through your core makes a choked moan fall from your lips as you attempt to follow her words. Her thumb rubs soothingly against the back of your hand, reassuring and comforting as you sag against the bed, your body shaking slightly at what it’s just gone through.

Your eyes flutter open, looking around aimlessly until they settle on Shuri. Her eyes are already on your face, her lips curled into a small, self-satisfied smile as she kisses your hipbone, then your torso. Her lips skim over each breast before she’s closing her lips over yours with a small sigh. Her body presses firmly into yours, the warmth of her body mixing with yours and only heightening your senses. When she pulls away, her eyes are still dark with desire and longing…infatuation, even, but they’re also soft. Caring. Loving. It makes your heart skip a beat or two.

“You okay?”

“‘M okay,” you reply breathlessly, your head nodding slightly. You want to say that the word ‘okay’ is such an understatement for the abundance of feelings flowing through your body at this moment in time, but you’re too busy finding and identifying the number of emotions in Shuri’s gaze. Each one you find makes your gaze soften more until your lips are curling into a small smile.

“Good…because you don’t think I’m done with you, do you?”

You find it unbelievable how her words are said with a heat that contrasts so much with the soft look she gazes at you with, and your acute surprise is apparent judging from the amused look on her face. It stays there as she raises onto her knees, her hands going to the buttons of her suit jacket. 

Despite the heat in her words and the way that heat slowly returns to her gaze, you find yourself letting out a soft laugh, lifting onto your elbows to grow closer to her. You only let out another one as she raises an eyebrow at you, her hands still slowly removing her own clothing. 

You can see the question in her eyes, though you only place your hands on her waist, running them up her sides before you can gently caress them over her breasts. The shiver that wracks down her spine makes your smile grow, and your voice is soft but with slightest hint of teasing as you speak. 

“I bet you’re glad you brought me on this mission, aren’t you?”

Shuri’s answer isn’t verbal. It’s very much physical. Though she makes sure to whisper a number of affections throughout your night together, the most important one being ‘I love you’.

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

I hope you all enjoyed this! It's been a while since I've written any smut and I know I could've done better, but I really wanted to get this out. I started this one shot monthssss ago y'all, but I just remembered it and wanted to finish it before classes started!

You know the drill! Like, reblog, and please comment! I love y'all's comments! I love the interactions!

TAG LIST FORM

@luvvspice , @motherlanddrip , @vivisspam , @oceean , @sleepystarzz1 , @amaberry20 , @randomhoex , @euph0ricx0 , @motheroffae , @shinsousliya , @mrswrightt , @niyahwrites , @thadelightfulone , @shuriislut , @playhousedistee , @sapppy-cocktail , @honey-teaaaaaaaa , @tchhairbandhere , @zane2408 , @barkbarkbo , @butterflyybabe , @angelsmist , @ventingfanfics , @pocketsizedpanther ,

[sketchnskribbles]

A03 | Rectifying Fallacies

The rhythmic clacking of keys echoed through the main room of the hidden mesa base. The noise was level. Controllable. Soothing. A familiar presence. One of the few things that this organic planet had in common with his wonderful homeworld.

It brought a sense of ease that lulled him into the calm of a mindless task. A quiet chore that brought a peace that he could hardly find at any other point within this senseless war. 

A silent alarm popped up in the bottom right corner of his screen and he gritted his denta at the reminder that the children were nearly done with their last day of school before summer break. Because that was just what they needed. Sparklings underpede. 

He shuttered his optics, stretched his digits, and continued his current job. He only had a few short earth hours before the next two months. Which would be filled with youngling fun and fancy free. An absolute boon to the war effort, he was sure. Note the sarcasm. 

He pushed away the souring thoughts. They wouldn't serve anything other than ruin his mood more than it already was. 

He'd gotten back into his groove when a Deception proximity alarm screamed through the mesa. 

A window concerning the potential danger popped up in front of his work and he nearly threw one of his tools in a fit of rage. He didn't, as he was a fully grown cybertronian and he needed those tools.

He maximized the window and narrowed his optics at the information. The signal was unknown. Meaning that it wasn't of any decepticon that they'd been in contact with since they'd moved into this mesa. Magnificent. He wished yet again that they had access to Teletraan I. But Primus-only-knew where the Ark was in this blasted universe.

The bot sighed and notified his team of the disturbance. He got four acknowledgements and ETAs. The heavy pedefalls of his oldest and closest friend coming near brought down some of his frustrated anger. He breathed in a deep breath and closed out of all his open programs. Leaving only the map showing the signal.

Moving away from his monitors, he turned around to greet his Prime. "Optimus."

"Ratchet." The deep baritone welcomed back. The Prime settled his hand on his shoulder plating and giving it a comforting squeeze, as he walked past. He peered at the screens to oversee the tripped alarm and hummed in consideration. That familiar gleam of the infamous strategist brightened up his gaze. "It is of unknown origin."

"Indeed. A new menace to grapple with." The older bot rolled his eyes.

"Or… perhaps a weary soul in need of better allies?" The Prime retorted back with his usual bout of hope.

"As if any Con would understand the meaning of the word." The medic huffed. "You expect too much out of thieves, societal rejects, and ex-convicts."

For a moment, the taller bot looked surprised. Then pained. Ratchet felt a lurch at his spark when he actually took the time to analyze his words. 

He blinked and pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor. There he went, shoving his pede into his derma. Again. "I… I'm sorry Optimus. That came out wrong."

"But full of truth." His leader gently chided. That look of disappointment never faltered. Ratchet sighed and looked away.

"I am sorry. You know of my past and how I was raised… but that is no excuse." Ratchet felt the familiar weight of his friend's servo land back on his shoulder. A comforting weight. Forgiving. The old bot looked back over to the younger mech. They smiled.

Optimus looked back up to the signal and then teasingly back down to the medic. "What do you say we scout out the signal together? It's rather close to being time for our charges to be picked up by their guardians."

"I'd say we're asking for trouble."

"Hmm, that doesn't sound like a no to me." Optimus had already inserted the coordinates into the ground bridge, powering it up. 

Ratchet felt the tell tale of a ping reverberate through him. One that he was sure was felt by the rest of the team. It notified the rest of their orders from the Prime, to retrieve their humans and to join them at base on standby at the soonest opportunity.

There were more pings that flew in soon after. Full of complaints and acknowledgments. They were happily ignored as the two walked through the gate. 

It led into a road through a forest of trees. 

From the position specified on their internal maps, they were about a couple hours away from the heavily populated city of Los Angeles.

It was honestly not too far away from their own home base in Nevada. Less than a day, even. Which was much too close for comfort in Ratchet's opinion. 

He followed Optimus through the trees. Their optics to the skies as they scanned for the source of the signature. It didn't take very long to find the jet. 

They heard the engine long before they caught sight of it. A worryingly familiar palette of purple and black made it ever obvious just who it was, despite the unfamiliar altmode.

" Skywarp." Ratchet growled, his optics narrowing at the jet above. 

He slipped a servo into his subspace and brought out a tiny gadget given to him by Wheeljack. The wrecker had created it on a whim and given it to the medic proclaiming that it needed to be "field-tested" by the team. 

He hadn't yet brought it up with Optimus. A fact that was backed up when the Prime looked down at the medic's arm cannon in confusion while Ratchet inserted the device within a small port that seamlessly opened up.

"...What is that, old friend?" Optimus looked back up to meet Ratchet's optics, wariness pooling in his own. The medic didn't hold the same concerns.

"Jackie said he needed this field-tested. So here it is!" His answer didn't seem to be to his leader's satisfaction.

"Ratchet… let's not be too hasty." A servo found its way over top of his weapon. With enough pressure to imply that he needed to put it down, rather than forcing him to do so. The medic rolled his optics.

"If all goes well, it'll merely incapacitate him. Not kill him. Wheeljack knows of how you operate and wouldn't dare to go outside of those bounds." Ratchet looked over to his old friend, the corners of his lips curling downward the slightest bit. "For all my misgivings with him, I know he respects you too much to do something like that."

With that said, the old medic took aim. An optic closed as he aligned the sights with the plane overhead. He took the shot.

The old bot turned around to smile with pride at his leader, as the plane stalled in the distance. Blue arches of electricity danced along Skywarp’s frame as he was forced down to the ground by gravity.

“I'm quite surprised you actually agreed to test it, old friend.” Optimus sighed and shook his head when the ground shook and a few of the trees ahead cracked and fell. 

“Oh, no. I've run test after test on my terminal on this thing. Also checked the power output and many other things.” Ratchet nullified with a shrug. “I kind of liked the idea of temporarily incapacitating a foe. Just too bad that some of the materials to obtain it are either expensive or hard to obtain.”

“Is that so?” Optimus began his trek forward toward the decepticon. His medic, right on his heels.

A03 | Rectifying Fallacies

[smorbee]

How does moon have human senses? (like taste, touch, smell, sound, hearing). Does moon have a tongue that allows them to taste things despite being a robot?

Lucky you, we love thinking about this stuff so we already have a number of explanations for these.

Hearing: Stereo microphones around where the ears connect to the head that feed into an audio processor that determines a noises placement in 3d space from the differences in acoustics.

Sight: Already drew a thing about this a bit ago! She has a spinning array of sonar depth sensors that essentially create a full 360 field of vision albeit without any color or light. The only data from this sensor is simply how close points are that can show the shape of things and their proximity. For the rest of the information there is a hidden camera on her visor to get light and color in front of her.

Smell: Moon actually cannot smell as she has no reason to breathe like a person does.

Taste: Her tongue is lined with sensors that can determine the chemical makeup of things in close proximity, emulating a "taste" sensation by tying a range of compounds to a variety of different signals.

Touch: Her various limbs have extremely sensitive positioning sensors that compare their actual position to their intended position, such that even a slight touch pushes on them enough that the sensors can work together to determine a general position of the point of impact.

[goldbiz]

the origin of the supersuit.

booster gold, aka. michael jon carter's history with the suit starts off back in his timeline, the 25th century. after the scandal that ended his football career michael sought out work as a janitor / security guard at the metropolis space museum after regaining some of that pride he had lost but also realising that there were no other prospects lined up for him. one night after lots of drinking and the desire to change the tracjectory towards where his life was heading, he stole a bunch of gear and took off for the past. the first suit, the mark 1 is still a mix of different tech that he acquired in the future.

materials.

the outer layers of a fabric that conceals the mechanical wirings inside consist of a sleek but blended element of a fine futuristic-leather-like-material that is form fitting while also not limited to a strategic metallic gold like armoured plating on areas of protection including the chest piece where his 'star' logo is positioned, his wrist gauntlets / gloves that are attached to the mounted blaster rays and leg areas. the boots, the collar in some designs are all made of that same fabric that additionally is lightweight, durable, and reflective in a subtle way. since setting up shop in modern day metropolis, goldstar inc. booster has brought on / invested in the best scientists / engineers possible to study the tech and create more modified and enhanced versions to accommodate to different situations whether that is pr events / formal or to just spring into the action on the go and depending on the threat, these modifications could be more armoured or more light. down below is the following / general additional tech in booster’s ensemble:

the power suit.

the overall power-suit that booster gold wears is not only a fashion choice, but is filled with advanced technological advancements that also serve as an overall power supply to all the other tech and wiring connected to it's mainframe. beneath all the padded leather and armoured plating, the suit also allows booster to have super strength and rapid manoeuvring.

booster shots.

nicknamed 'booster shots' these wrist-mounted blaster rays are always used as pure offense. each wristband has the capabilities of firing out directed energy rays at the push of a button / lever type thing that is concealed beneath booster's gloves. the force of the blasts also can be adjusted to either simply stun opponents or or create actual destructive blasts. unless it's called upon in a moment of need, booster's default settings are always set to stun mode. rarely ever will he use the destructive mechanisms unless he really needs to take on big threats because the wrist blasters take the most strain on the overall power supply booster relies on to power his entire suit’s system.

vision goggles / visor / enhanced sunglasses.

one of the most important pieces of tech in booster's ensemble is his eye vison goggles, later remodified with another design in the form of sunglasses to blend in with a more modernistic / casual setting. these goggles function as IR sensors that allow him to do things like detect body heat, night vision, facial recognition / biometric tracking, comms and hacking integration, vital signs monitoring, environmental hazards and microscopic vision.

legion flight ring.

one of booster's favourite pieces of tech is his legion flight ring, originally designed by the legionnaire brainiac 5, it harnesses an alien-like metal to provide the one who wears with it with the power of flight. it took a little tinkering around and getting used to at first but since becoming acquainted with it, booster has discovered that the wearer does not need to be actually wearing it rather than just have it be in close proximity but it's not something that booster risks personally, especially if he might need it's aid in unexpected places. the ring has also been able to help booster translate many different languages on earth, and regions within the vicinity of space / beyond.

thrusters attached to boots.

probably the most 'superficial' aspect that has been implemented into his ensemble since the legion ring carries all the weight and that is the thrusters attached to booster’s boots. booster likes to personally activate them when he's showing off some big feats in town square or he's putting on some kind of a show for his audience. and even on personalised assignments, he just thinks it's one of those things that looks cool and gives his overall look a little flair. their only good use is that they help to break a fall by allowing some positioning and manoeuvring. this is one of the main upgrades the engineers in-house took a liberty in adding additionally.

headset / communications system hidden inside cowl or in the form of a headset earpiece. 

this one isn't so far and ground-breaking in technological advancements but more or less a simple communications device that allows booster to communicate with skeets or anyone that needs to reach him on the fly.

force field belt.

specifically in the original suit's design, one of the many items michael jon carter stole was a force-field belt originally belonging to the legion of superheroes. since becoming acquainted with it, it has since been integrated into the suit's system making it's usage rather obsolete but it is able to generate force fields capable of deflecting missile blasts or even preventing oxygen-loss in the vacuum of space.

other versions / enhancements.

public relations suit.

this is version of the suit is purely reserved for pr events because it sheds away a lot of the technology required from his main suit. it's practically just made of regular leather fabrics with minimal wiring on the inside. booster is still not useless in his suit, it has built in tech like his booster shots if he needs to stun any opponents / bad guys. the main noticeable differences of this suit really include shedding off the traditional cowl and goggle look, opting for more traditional sunglasses which is the only piece of tech that comes with the suit that still retains all the features that would featured in the goggles only with modifications in materials engineers at goldstar inc. had to accommodate to. for this look in particular, booster really wanted the ensemble to look more 'sporty' as a callback to his football days hence why it has a nascar-like design. it's intention is to be more modernistic to appeal to a more zestful audience. booster has done cover shoots, attended talk-show interviews in this suit and has attended pr events where he's more representative for his sponsors as a mascot as opposed to needing to be there with a save. this suit is filled to the brim with sponsor patches / logos.

mark i.v2 suit.

this reinvented take on the original mark 1 armour is identical to booster's original suit. it's changes are more cosmetic rather than being functional. one of the major changes includes that instead of opting for an all gold look for the gloves, they are now blue with armoured wrist gauntlets now added additionally that hold the trigger buttons to activate his booster shots. the biggest functional difference to this suit is that it's sleek design makes it less sturdy than the original and far more easier to move in.

additional pieces / the booster jacket.

the jacket is where things start to become prominently more about aesthetics. it's tailored to look like an ordinary leather jacket only with the blue and gold colours on standby. it has the patterns you could find on the ordinary booster ensemble and is once again more or less worn for more colder weather or just to simply look good at public relation events when the nascar ensemble becomes too much of a drag to put on. booster loves this jacket, he makes sure it's always taken in to a professional cleaner that checks for deep stains, or if the lining or the zippers need repairs.

the cape.

the cape was something that came and went rather swiftly, booster's audience instantly caught onto it as a cliché and according to skeets, his faithful automaton, his approval rate took a massive dive. anyway, he has not ever worn the cape again but sometimes when he's feeling frisky, he might try it on for size behind closed doors.

[onesidedradiostatic]

"can the drones even be controlled by him? or are they specifically only vox-controlled with his powers?"

I 100% think Val has a handful of drones he can control, and that they were a gift from Vox. I also think when Vox moves his drones around it's effortless, they move exactly how and where he wants them. When Val moves the few he has it's super jerky and Vox had to put a bunch of extra stabilizers and proximity sensors and shit in Vals just so he didn't immediately fly them into the floor.

(referring to this ask)

LMAOOO I kinda like that actually, also while I'm at it let me answer this ask too since it's related

I was actually under the assumption before that vox turned it on himself but that's only because I couldn't tell how val turned it on cause he didn't press anything or have any sort of controller to do so but I probably I need to stop working under that assumption that one is needed, watching the scene again it does actually look more like val turned it on

seems like the drone they used is the one advertised at the start of episode 2 so presumably everyone can use them

my brain is just trying to wrap itself around val not needing a controller to use it LMAO, like for vox? understandable cause it's HIS tech and literally what his powers revolve around. why should val be able to control it without a controller? either way though, it's a minor thing. but val using the drones to spy does make a lot more sense for how he found out about alastor being there before vox.

[republicsecurity]

Be All You Can Be

As the training session began, Cadet 80LKU felt a surge of nervous excitement. This was his first time fully suited up, helmet and all. The sleek, black armor enveloped him like a second skin, its servos humming softly with every movement. He felt an unfamiliar weight on his shoulders, the suit's systems adjusting to his body's nuances. He flexed his fingers, feeling the resistance in the gauntlets, then clenched them into fists.

The visor of his helmet slid down with a soft hiss, sealing him off from the outside world. The HUD flickered to life, displaying a myriad of information: his vitals, suit status, and an array of icons he had yet to fully understand. He took a deep breath, the filtered air cool against his face.

"Initiating sensory calibration," a voice echoed in his ear—one of the instructors.

Suddenly, the familiar training maze around him began to shift and morph. The walls stretched, the floor seemed to undulate, and his sense of direction was thrown into chaos. It felt as though the ground beneath his feet was tilting, though he knew it wasn't. His heart raced, and he could feel the suit's systems compensating, adjusting to his rising adrenaline levels.

"Stay calm, cadet. This is part of the training," the instructor's voice reminded him through the helmet’s speakers. Easier said than done, he thought.

The overlay on his visor distorted his perception. What was once a simple corridor now appeared as a winding path through a dense jungle, complete with swaying trees and the sounds of unseen creatures. He stumbled, his feet struggling to find purchase on the seemingly uneven ground.

Gradually, the environment stabilized. The jungle transformed back into the familiar maze, but with added obstacles and enhancements. The walls were higher, the turns sharper, and new holographic threats appeared at random intervals.

As he navigated the altered maze, he encountered another cadet. The HUD identified him as 70CCD. The cadet's vitals appeared on 80LKU's display: elevated heart rate, but otherwise stable. Relief washed over him. He wasn't alone in this.

"70CCD, it's 80LKU," he said through the helmet's intercom. "Let's stick together."

"Got it," 70CCD responded, his voice tinged with the same mix of excitement and nerves.

They moved through the maze as a team, their suits syncing with each other. The HUD provided real-time updates on their surroundings, highlighting potential threats and navigation markers. The suit's sensory controls heightened their awareness, amplifying sounds and sharpening visual details.

At one point, a simulated enemy appeared, a holographic figure that moved with startling realism. 80LKU's suit responded instantly, servos kicking into high gear to enhance his reaction time. He ducked and rolled, feeling the suit guide his movements with precise efficiency. Together, he and 70CCD neutralized the threat, their suits working in perfect harmony.

"Nice move," 70CCD said, his voice breathless.

"Thanks. This suit makes everything feel... different," 80LKU replied, marveling at the suit's capabilities.

As they continued, the overlay adjusted again, now presenting the maze as a high-tech facility with metallic walls and electronic doors. The transition was seamless, almost convincing enough to make him forget where he actually was.

He approached what looked like a fallen tree but knew it was actually one of the hurdles in the maze. The suit’s sensors detected his proximity and adjusted the feedback in his limbs, making it feel as though he was stepping over rough, uneven bark. He hesitated, then leaped, feeling the servos in his legs amplify his strength, propelling him over the obstacle with ease.

As he landed, the ground seemed to shift beneath him. The suit’s remote control kicked in subtly, correcting his balance and guiding his movements. It was a strange sensation—half his own effort, half the suit’s automated assistance. He felt a moment of disorientation, as though his body was both his own and not his own.

"Keep moving, cadet," the voice urged, "you’re doing well."

He pressed on, weaving through the maze that now felt like a living, breathing environment. At one point, the HUD highlighted a hidden target among the foliage. He raised his arm, the gauntlet servos locking into place to stabilize his aim, and fired a simulated shot. The target exploded in a shower of sparks and digital leaves, the feedback vibrating through his arm.

As he continued, he felt the suit’s sensory control intensify. The visor displayed warnings of incoming "dangers"—simulated enemies and traps that he had to avoid or neutralize. His heart pounded, not just from the physical exertion but from the sheer immersion. It was easy to forget he was still in the training maze, surrounded by the controlled environment of the academy.

Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath him, and he fell into what looked like a pit of quicksand. In reality, it was a cushioned drop designed to test his reaction time. The suit’s feedback system kicked in, making his muscles strain as though he was fighting to stay afloat. He could hear his breathing, rapid and shallow, echoing inside the helmet.

"Stay calm, cadet," the instructor's voice was steady, "use your suit's strength."

He activated the suit’s enhanced power mode, feeling the servos in his limbs surge with energy. With a monumental effort, he pushed himself out of the pit, the suit’s resistance making every movement a grueling test of endurance.

Finally, he reached the end of the maze. His visor lifted, and the digital overlay disappeared, leaving him standing in the familiar training room once more. The disorientation was immediate, his senses struggling to reconcile the abrupt shift from the jungle back to reality.

The instructor approached, his own helmet under his arm. "Well done, 80LKU. How do you feel?"

"Exhausted," he admitted, his voice sounding strange in his own ears after the immersive simulation. "But... also powerful."

[edupunkn00b]

The Space Between Thunder and Light

Stranded on a derelict ship on the very edge of the galaxy, at least Logan and Janus have each other.

Written for @pas-de-duex as part of @tss-camp-and-coffee's Camp Cartoon event. Prompt: Loceit in space. WC: 1655 - Rated: G - CW: Peril, mentions of blood and injuries, happy ending - My other Camp stories

“And what is on the menu for tonight's dinner, garçon??" Janus asked, accepting the insulated cup Logan offered him with a grateful nod. He sniffed at the steam pouring off the top and poked dubiously at the contents.

Logan chuckled. “I decided to go with the dark grey slop as a complement to this morning’s light grey slop,” he said, slipping beside him in the oversized navigator's chair.

“Mm, slop. My favorite,” Janus muttered before digging in. He scooped up a spoonful and blew on it briefly before popping it in his mouth. The risk of minor burns was worth the reduction in taste and smell at higher temperatures. He ate another spoonful and rested his head on Logan’s shoulder. “Thank you for dinner,” he said, eyes again trained on the console before them.

“You’ve always told me how much you enjoy these exclusive, off-the-beaten path venues,” he deadpanned, stirring his nutritional substrate as he looked out at the fuzzy star scape.

Janus laughed and took another bite. The console beeped and he shot forward, spoon still in his mouth.

Logan held his breath and watched his husband’s fingers fly across the controls. His eyeglasses had broken eight weeks ago, giving him little choice but to leave the finer gauges in Janus' more than apt hands.

He tapped at the screen for a bit then sat back, shaking his head. “False alarm,” he murmured, scraping up the last of his meal.

“Have we had many while I was working on the engines?” He frowned down at his own cup and dutifully scooped up another bite.

“A few,” Janus murmured. “Our proximity to the Kuiper belt is throwing a lot of flotsam in our orbit.” He stabbed at the controls before returning to his spot curled against Logan’s side. “I just hope our beacon doesn’t look like more of that flotsam to passing ships.”

One arm wrapped around Janus’ shoulders, Logan nodded. “One can hope.”

~

The ship's klaxon roused both of them. Logan was first to fling back the reflective blanket off their shared bunk. Logan was first to reach the console.

Logan was first to see the blast.

The vidscreen went white, then died. Phaser energy peaking the sensors and controls, their ship sat blind before it was rocked by the blast several seconds later.

“What the hell—“” Ship listing hard to port, Janus steadied himself on the back of a chair. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Logan muttered, poking at the console. He flipped switches back and forth, attempting a hard reboot. His hands knew these controls, so the crude task didn't require much from his eyes. Giving up on the interface, he dropped to the floor and pulled off the panel beneath. “Hand me a—”

The ship jerked again and sparks sprayed millimeters from his face.

“Lo!” Janus dragged him out but Logan batted his hands away.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, reaching deeper into the access hatch. “Hand me a coupler, will you?”

Janus hurried to find the multi-pronged tool and place it in his waiting palm. He smiled, briefly, when Logan squeezed his hand.

“We shall get through this,” he promised before returning to swearing under his breath at every jolt of the deck.

“I know,” Janus purred. “We have to so you can gloat about how you fixed the ship blindfo—“”

Another blast struck the ship and Janus flew back. The cold deck rushed up to catch his fall.

~

A buzzy whine filled Janus’ hearing and the whole world had gone sideways. He tried and failed to blink away the fuzziness before him, reaching up to scrub his eyes. His hand came away cold and wet.

And red.

“Lo?” he called. His throat was raw and he could barely hear his own voice past the roaring in his ears. Wedging his hands beneath his shoulders, he pushed up off the ship’s deck. He’d landed in the corridor, half-way to their sleeping quarters.

And Logan was nowhere to be seen. “Lo?” he called again, the word scraping its way out past his lips. He managed to get his feet under himself but just as soon dropped to hands and knees, gagging.

It wasn’t fuzziness obscuring his vision but thick, noxious smoke filling the air. Finally, the acrid, choking scent of burning insulation reached his brain. “Lo! Lo, where are you?” he shouted between coughs. Crawling on hands and knees, he zig-zagged over the warming deck, feeling for Logan’s hand, his leg, his anything. “Lo! We have to—“” He choked, gasping for air even as he continued his search. “We have to evac—“

Janus’ hand had just closed on Logan’s sleeve when the tearing, scraping sound of metal on metal cut through the air. Atmosphere squealed through the breach, popping his ears. Janus closed his eyes and forced himself to exhale normally. Decompression of up to 90 seconds while the emergency systems kicked in would be painful but survivable, if he was ready for it. Fighting to hold his breath while he waited for the shields to engage would do him no favors.

One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand

“Lo…” Lips and tongue formed his love’s name as the vacuum of space stole the oxygen from his lungs, from his blood. “Lo, I’m here…” His vision had blackened at the edges but with the smoke sucked out with the rest of their atmosphere, he could see enough to determine Logan was blessedly unconscious and unaware.

Six-one-thousand, seven-thousand, eight-one-thousand

His mind wouldn’t even let himself consider Logan might be worse than merely knocked out.

‘Leven-one-thousand, twelve-one-thousand, thirteen-thousand

“Lo, hang on…” Grip tight on his sleeve, Janus drug himself across the deck to lay across his chest.

Twenty-thousand, twent’-one-thousand, twent’-two-thousand

“Lo, I’m here…” His mouth wasn’t moving anymore but since when did he need to speak for Logan to hear him? “Hang on, Lo… Almost there…”

~

“Lo!” Janus shot up, eyes wide and blind in the glare. His head banged against something hard and he fell back against the soft surface beneath him, hand to forehead. “Fuck,” he muttered, a fresh ache shooting through his skull. “Lo?” he called when the rest of his senses caught up with him and he realized he was, once again, breathing in big lungfuls of recycled air. Every breath burned, so he couldn’t’ve been out for that long.

But he’d been out long enough for someone to have taken him from Logan’s side. And that was long enough. “Lo!” he tried again. “Logan!”

Pushing at the blankets draped over his body, he listened for a response. Bright white halos danced over his vision, obscuring everything but the dull grey hull and bunks surrounding him.

And utter, complete lack of Logan.

He’d thoroughly tangled his legs in the blanket and its tight, efficient weave had little give. Abandoning his first attempts, he tucked his arms close and rolled off the bunk. He landed hard on the deck below and lay there, stunned and panting, as he listened to the sound of the engine beneath him.

They were moving. Fast.

Between the breach and the dead engines, he didn’t need the unfamiliar bunks to know he wasn’t on their ship. The only real question was whether they’d been rescued.

Or captured.

He needed to find Logan now. The fall had managed to dislodge most of his confinement and he kicked to work his feet free. A wave of nausea slowed him and the dull, deep ache of decompression sickness left sprinkles of cold sweat over his skin. After taking a short rest, he breathed into the ache and struggled with the last clinging strip.

Janus wasn’t confined and someone had gone to great lengths to change his clothes, to bandage his head and his hands. Logan had to be somewhere on this new ship. He just had to find him. He would find him.

He wouldn’t allow himself to consider any other possibility.

Janus had just pushed up onto his hands and knees when the door slid open.

“Jay!”

Logan’s worried voice broke the dam of his denial and Janus could hardly see past the tears filling his eyes. “Lo,” he managed one more time before a sob stole his words. Logan dropped to his knees and helped him half-sit, half lay against his chest.

“I was afraid—” Janus clung to him, fisting his hands in the loose, soft overalls he was dressed in.

Logan rocked him, lanky, family arms drawing him close. “I was, too,” he whispered when Janus’ sobs eased. “You were…” Logan swallowed hard. Janus gripped him tighter. “The medic had begun to… prepare me when you finally started breathing again.”

“How long…” Janus pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. They shone behind his new lenses, glossy and red-rimmed.

“You’ve been out a week,” he said. The shadows under his eyes told Janus how little he must have slept in that time. “The Captain had just convinced me to report for my own exam when, well…” He huffed out a laugh that sounded too much like a sob for Janus to find it comforting. “When you woke.”

“Well, of course,” Janus tried to smile. “You’d abandoned me to my own devices on a strange ship.”

This time Logan’s breathy chuckle was real.

“A watched gauge never moves?” Logan began.

Janus curled close, face buried in his chest. “But step away and your warp core will breach.”

Humming softly, Logan nodded and stroked his hair. “We appear to have proven the adage twice over.”

As if on queue, the engines shifted, their low whine dropping down a quarter note. “You said Captain?” He looked up and tapped Logan’s new frames. “Is that who I have to thank for these?”

“We can go meet him and the rest of the crew when you’re ready. And, yes…” Logan smiled down at him, head tilted adorably. “Do you like them?”

“Meh,” Janus shrugged, his laughter swallowed by Logan’s soft kiss.