#monstr3denwriting

The idea of approaching a human affectionately weighed heavily on Optimus. Deep down he was lost in thought, the alliance between humans and Autobots came first. However, this particular human had earned his respect, and gradually, he found himself warming up to her presence.

It was unexpected…

Ever attuned to his leader's demeanour nuances, Bumblebee softened his  veiled teasing, followed by his next suggestion “---You all go for--- a Joy Ride!---”

Racing with a pick-up truck? That would be too risky, perhaps even impractical. His alt mode was functional, built for resilience and reliability, not for speed or flashiness, neither a sports car nor a sleek vehicle.  It was a step he could take, though at his own pace.

"I thank you, dear friend" Optimus said, a note of gratitude in his voice. "Your insight is... most valuable."

.ᐟ.ᐟ

The sky had darkened, thick clouds gathering as a gentle rain began to fall. Subsequentially, the steady rhythm of the droplets intensified, each drop falling heavier than before. Amid the relentless rain, another sound broke through the downpour. It was the distinctive hum of an engine, accompanied by the sharp, glowing brilliance of the four headlights piercing through the rain. The pickup truck stood resolutely by the side of the road, its metallic frame shimmering as droplets clung to its surface.

The truck had been waiting patiently for an indeterminate time as then, through the haze of rain she appeared, huddled under a small red umbrella. Illuminated by the soft glow of a streetlamp, Optimus watched as she approached, her steps careful on the slick pavement. Once she reached his side, the door unlocked with a quiet click, inviting her inside. “Finally—” trembling, she climbed into the passenger seat, the door closing firmly behind her.

Inside, she was enveloped by the warmth of the front seats, a stark contrast to the cool rain outside. She set her umbrella aside and leaned back in the seat, with a contented sigh. "Thanks a lot for picking me up, Optimus" her voice resonated in his spark “I’m terribly sorry, I hope I didn’t make you wait too long under this damn rain! I swear, my weather said it was going to be cloudy...totally not this??”

"It is no trouble," Optimus replied, his voice a gentle rumble through the speakers. “I wouldn't want you walking in this kind of weather, you might get hurt. Never hesitate to give me a call, little one.”

Soon enough the engine started, and they drove in comfortable silence, the rain creating a soothing backdrop. Optimus found solace in these quiet moments, the presence of his human companion filling the space with an unspoken connection. He relished the opportunity to simply be near her, to share in the simplicity of the moment. This was his kind of “Joy ride”, a serene, intimate experience far removed from the high-energy adventures Bumblebee often took part in.

As they neared her home, the glow of streetlights casting soft halos on the rain-slicked road, she turned slightly, her gaze thoughtful. "You know," she began "I’ve always appreciated how you make time for me. It means a lot."

Optimus's spark swelled with an emotion that, despite his longevity and vast experience since he first came online, he was still learning to fully understand. "Your companionship brings me a sense of peace," he admitted, the sincerity in his tone unmistakable. "It is a privilege to be a part of your world."

Her hand reached out, soft fingers brushing against the dashboard in a gesture of affection. “And it's a privilege to have you in mine, truly"  she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. She knew he could hear her, loud and clear, even if he didn’t respond immediately. There was a quiet understanding between them, one that was broken by his warm voice, drawing her attention.

“Would you like to hear some stories, my little friend?”

.ᐟ.ᐟ

An hour had passed, her eyelids grew heavy and she found herself lulled by the light sway of the truck. It was a rare moment of peace in a world often filled with chaos. Here, cradled in the safety of Optimus Prime, she allowed herself to drift into a peaceful slumber, trusting completely in the steadfast guardian who was carrying her home.

“---This brings many memories in my circuit” Optimus mused softly “The first steps we Autobots took on your lively, vibrant planet. It’s a bittersweet feeling, filled with nostalgia…” His words trailed off as he realized she had succumbed to sleep, her form gently resting against the cushion seat. “oh…” His words had continued longer than he intended. She had fallen asleep, her head resting against the cushioned seat.

His engine hummed quietly as he turned the corner by her house. With a slow, deliberate movement, the Prime transformed. His massive frame shifted awkwardly, yet he was careful enough to avoid any disruption.

With utmost care, his servos extended towards her,  cradling her sleeping form. She stirred slightly but did not wake, her trust in him evident in her relaxed posture. As if in the hands of someone who would never harm her.

Attentive optics caught sight of the slightly open window. Soon, Optimus approached it, parting it with a click, careful not to make a sound. The rain had all but ceased, leaving the night air cool and fresh. With ultimate precision, he laid her down on her bed, tucking the blanket around her in a gesture that felt almost human. He lingered for a moment, his optics soft, his gaze filled with a tenderness that reflected his deep sense of protectiveness. She was safe here, in the comfort of her own room, sheltered from the outside world.

He stood there for a moment, his optics soft as he gazed at her peaceful expression. "Goodnight," he whispered, his voice a deep murmur. "May the stars always guide you."

.ᐟ.ᐟ

As he quietly stepped back from the window, miraculously avoiding breaking the glass, the Prime remained near her backyard, his massive form casting a shadow over the wall of her house. The soft hum of his systems settled into a quiet vigil, ensuring her safety throughout the night. There Optimus found solace in the knowledge that, for now, as long as he was with her, she would be safe and sound. With the Autobots' base under control, he decided to linger near her home, keeping a watchful optic on her,  a silent but devoted promise of protection and care.

The faint light of the stars reflected in his optics as the night enveloped him while he transformed back into his vehicle mode.

Who knows, you were too engrossed in your sketchbook to notice.

Squinting your eyes, the rays of the sun were starting to bother you. One glance at the clock and you had your answer.

 It was late afternoon. Craning your neck towards the window, the city skyline filled your view. With fewer cars on the street below as the sun began to set, the last rays of sunlight illuminated the Autobot's base and your seat. There was a comforting silence in the air, one that didn’t disturb your work, a drawing you just finished, adding some red there... some blue over there...

The quiet hum of the warehouse and its surroundings were not random moments you enjoyed, instead, you quite cherished them. With some adjustments, the Autobots had begun to recognise your need for personal space. They observed the way you would always clutch your sketchbook tightly to your chest whenever someone approached, or worse, appeared out of nowhere, even though they were giant, metallic masses. Hence, more than once, you would involuntarily screech upon turning around to find a pair of optics curiously watching you draw.

While some Bots like Bumblebee and Mirage tended to be a little too inquisitive for your taste, others, like Arcee and Optimus, were remarkably respectful of your personal space. To your surprise, the latest bot you’ve started to enjoy sketching on every page of your sketchbook was none other than the leader himself.

Exactly like now.

Truth to be told, you have come to admire the Optimus since the first day you came to know him and the rest of the Autobots, dedicated to helping protect the Earth, your home.

Mindlessly, you turned the page.

How long have you been drawing?

There was only one blank page left in your sketchbook, which hasn't been this full since you started sketching and drawing that particular red and blue leader. Every single detail had you hooked, and every sketch was a bit of progress onward. To the Autobots, you appeared to be a strange and skittish human whenever your sketchbook was mentioned or even pointed at.

You started to ponder… “Should I buy another sketchbook right now? Wait until tomorrow?-“ However, your train of thought was cut off by the distant sounds of cars approaching the warehouse. “They are retreating”, you thought, as the first to show itself was none other than Bumblebee. Soon after,  Mirage made his entrance, and as always, Optimus would be the last to return, ensuring that no stranger was around the warehouse.

In an instant, Bumblebee came jogging towards you, his pedes shaking the warehouse shelves, while a bunch of leaves were strangely falling from his closed servos. He stopped abruptly right in front of you, mere inches from your face, beeping enthusiastically. Smiling, you tilted your head, curiously pointing at what he was hiding between his cupped servos, like a kid holding a little bird between his hands.

“Did you find something interesting, Bee?” You hoped he hadn’t torn apart an entire tree. Without wasting a second, he emitted an excited beep and opened his servos. It was a canvas. Or worse, it was someone else’s canvas, one that wasn’t blank, it was already painted. “Bee-what…?” Shocked by what you were seeing, you blinked twice.

“Bee! That’s someone’s canvas-“ You scolded the Bot lightly as he got embarrassed, his antennas dropping. He wanted to be painted too!

“Ohh, can I, be painted too?” Mirage chimed in, snitching, “He did tear it from a balcony on the way here, maybe, I don’t knoww” Bumblebee’s antennas perked up as he beeped aggressively towards the blue Bot for being a snitch. As you tried to calm the banter between those two, your sketchbook fell from your lap, untouched, on the floor.

“Well, it is true! If you can’t find a blank white square, how are they supposed to draw me?” Mirage retorted again with a playful smirk, followed by Bumblebee fussing again, flapping his digits together, imitating the opening and closing of a duck’s beak. Their playful banter went on and on through the warehouse, distracting you to the point of forgetting that Optimus had just entered through a back entrance after his external patrol. The day had been tiresome for everyone, especially for Optimus, after all, he is the one who had carried the entire team back to safety, here.

Optimus was lost in thought, a common occurrence for him lately. Although, yes, he was tired, he felt a strong urge to defend this planet, Earth. While it was vastly different from his home, Cybertron,  the longer he stayed on Earth, the more he grew curious about it. He saw its many shapes, its beauty, its flaws. Every day, he learned something new, and one of the most intriguing topics that captivated him was the arts. He had since sought the opinions of other Autobots but often found himself drawn more to humans’ insights.

Of course, that included you. This fascination with art became a frequent topic of conversation between you and him, something you would talk for hours from its ancient expressions to contemporary and newer pieces as he listened intently, eager to learn and to deepen his appreciation for Earth, its inhabitants and you.

As Optimus tried to comprehend the complexities of earthlings and you, so did you, striving to understand both him and the other Autobots. Sure, the first time you saw these alien sentient vehicles, as they loomed tall and heavily shook the pavement, had left you terrified for a couple of days, however the initial shock soon transformed into fascination. You began to bond with them over your shared differences as you tried to understand each other. That also encouraged you to fill your sketchbook every day with drawings and thoughts. Among them, Optimus captured your attention and heart the most. You would get to know the autoboot leader better, his insight, his speeches resonated within you, motivating you to keep going despite any struggle you faced. Each drawing tried to capture Optimus’s character, like his determination and passion. You guarded your works from prying eyes, NO ONE. Just the thought of anyone discovering it would melt you into a puddle of embarrassment.

While Optimus moved through the room, his pedes unintentionally bumped into something, causing a wave of concern to wash over him. What if he had hit a human? Or an animal? He couldn’t forgive himself if his carelessness had harmed something, earthlings were smaller and more fragile. Slightly lowering his head, he realised it wasn’t a human, but an object lying on the ground. Optimus leaned down to investigate the item, finding it open. A book? It didn’t have paragraphs of words written on it, instead, there were drawings. It was familiar, as if he had seen it before. Suddenly, he remembered it vividly, it was that sketchbook you always carried with you.

Optimus hadn’t intended to pry into something so personal, but he had to return it to its owner. He was mindful of his strength, trying his best to handle it delicately, aware of the extremely thin paper. Eventually, he gently picked it up, making sure not to tear its pages. As he did, he managed to see some of the drawings you dedicated to him. He couldn’t help but marvel at your talent. Each sketch captured every detail with such precision, from the smaller details on his helm to his vivid optics.

Was this how you saw him? How precious.

Optimus seemed to recall a moment from a few days ago when Bumblebee was practically pressing a drawing you made of him against his own faceplate. The joy in Bumblebee’s beeps and expressions was unmistakable. Optimus couldn’t deny how heartwarming it was to witness such a nice and sweet gesture, something that words sometimes could not convey. It was clear that through art, yours, you could capture genuine feelings.

 Still, the previous banter between Bumblebee and Mirage echoed through the warehouse, the noise growing as the Prime went to intervene. The same careful way he had picked it up moments earlier, he closed the sketchbook in his servos and strode towards the commotion. There they were.

“Welcome back Optimus-“

“Bumblebee. And Mirage.”

The two bots, including you, suddenly froze in place. Bumblebee let out a quiet beep as Mirage theatrically lifted his arms.

“What is the meaning of this ruckus?” Optimus approached them, sternly observing them. Under pressure, Mirage was the first to quickly excuse himself “I see, someone’s calling me, uhm- see ya soon Prime-“ he stammered before speeding away. Meanwhile, Bumblebee attempted to hide behind your figure and the nearby shelves, only to knock them down. Before you could fully comprehend, Bumblebee grabbed you, ensuring you didn’t tumble to the floor. Beeping apologetically, he sheepishly shuffled your hair back into place. Copying Mirage he scurried off, maybe he had to glue back that stolen canvas to its right place.

Once the two bots vanished, a calm silence engulfed the warehouse as you returned to greet Optimus again, only for your eyes to land exactly on that closed black sketchbook you had been holding just minutes ago. When did it fell? Oh no! Embarrassment washed over you, freezing in silence. It was closed…right? So, there’s no way he saw what was inside…right?

Optimus was the first to break the ice, bending down on one knee, with a gentle tone, he apologised, “Forgive me, little one, I didn’t mean to pry into your belongings “Handling your now closed sketchbook, he continued “However, if I may, your dedication is admirable.”

Soon, the tips of your ears and your cheeks turned red as a beet, leaving you frozen in place. Nevertheless, Optimus carried on his discourse, “ During the years I’ve spent here on your home, Earth, I’ve come to admire many human creations, their arts, such beautifulness” The Autobot leader didn’t move closer, but he slowly patted your head with his servo, being careful as not to crush you.

“Your skills, I’m sure, will make you a great artist as the ones I came to admire. I am honoured to see myself reflected in your works”.

He lifted himself up, carefully avoiding the warehouse lights. You snapped out of your gaze as he transformed into his alt-mode, inviting you in.

“Though, you must also reserve hours to rest, it’s getting late, and it would be best if you returned home safe, little one.

You worked for the Turks, a dedicated and official member, known for your efficiency, no-nonsense approach to the task, even though you could be easily bored. Your name is always on Tseng's mouth since you would always slip away 5 minutes before the actual end of your shift, eager to retreat to your apartment and savour those precious few hours of relax.

What could you say? You always fulfilled your responsibilities, and that was it, so you saw no reason to attend a group reunion with the boss himself. After all, to you, once the job was done, so was your obligation to linger there.

Spending precious hours of your time listening to your boss nagging about his personal problems? That was definitely a pass. The boss wasn't new to the company; in fact, he was Shinra's son. Rufus Shinra is a copy of his father: snobbish, always dressed in brand new white clothes and eager to take the company in a new direction under his new policies. Despite that, Shinra wasn't someone you would pay much mind to, a “nepo baby with a big ego!”. His speeches never revolved around topics other than himself and his personal goal, so  

Why would anyone ever choose to sit through the same self-centred monologues?

Despite the rumours circulating in and around the building about him being a nepo baby, his looks made it easy for various coworkers and non to fall head over heels for him.

However,

he really needed to work on his speeches.

As for today, the sun rose yet again, marking the start of another long week. Reluctantly, you rose from the warmth of your bed, ready to start your familiar routine. With your phone in hand, you began messaging Elena, meanwhile you dressed in your usual uniform for your shift at the base.

By now, as you exited your apartment and closed the door, you would expect to have received a text back from Elena, that was odd, perhaps she was busy? You brushed the thought aside, convincing yourself she might already be in the meeting room waiting for the others.

Sliding the meeting room door open with your access card, you were met with…uh? ...silence? Normally, you’d expect to be greeted at least by Reno’s cheerful greeting as he would lean against the door frame, but today felt... Were you early? Hard to believe, especially since Rude would likely have been at the table, already working. Something was off.

You paused for a moment. Was it possible that you had arrived too late? Glancing at your wristwatch, then up at the wall clock, you confirmed that you were neither early nor late. Just as you began to ponder the silence further, a cough caught your attention.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Tseng emerged as he handed you a sizable pamphlet without a word. Your heart raced as panic surged through you.

"-am I getting fired??" you blurted out these words before you could even process them. The thought of getting fired without warning sent your mind spiralling into worst-case scenarios. Nevertheless, Tseng was eerily smug about it.

"Not at all,” he replied “I just arranged a slightly new schedule for you."

"Eh? For what?"

It was unusual for him to alter your schedule to such an extent, that was too sudden even for one like him. As you glanced at the first page of your newly revised schedule, your heart sank. Every hour had been completely rearranged, leaving no overlap with your coworkers, save for a couple of shifts with Tseng himself.

Before you could process the implications of this dramatic shift, Tseng began to make his way towards the door. Raising an eyebrow, frustrated with him you huffed "What in the world is this? Did the programme switch the hours on me?? I'm not with any of our department group!"

Tseng paused just long enough to deliver his response "Since you’ll have to personally assist the President himself, I will expect nothing less than extreme professionalism from you.”

You stood there, holding the papers as he exited, feeling the reality of your new role beginning to settle in.

That left you no choice but to walk your way through Rufus's office.

The elevator was out of service, as it was undergoing maintenance, forcing you to take the stairs. With each step, a mix of frustration and resignation bubbled within you as you began to understand Tseng’s decision. That man…he had reworked your schedule to teach you a lesson for your behaviour. If you had once cursed him for the tiresome missions he assigned, now it was worse.

 Yet, as exhausting as it was, you had to remind yourself that this was your job, one that, in comparison of many others, paid you handsomely. Admittedly, many shift were dangerous both mentally and physically, but you had endured months of rigorous training to prepare for it. You knew the stakes, and looking after the Boss was an obligation. Surely, at the end of this day, Tseng would be kind enough to restore your former schedule.

The stairs came to an end, but the hallway was seemingly endless. Luckily, you had quickly spotted Rufus’s office, who else had gigantic doors with a sprawling rug that extended beneath it?

And so would really begin your workday.

--

Again, you were aware that your boss’s superior, although you had only fleeting encounters with him, would frequently appear in various media outlets, celebrations, and speeches to the public. Being this famous led to numerous rumours about him. It was then that curiosity struck you, how much of it was real? You had to see it with your own eyes, at least something exciting to your otherwise boring schedule.

One particular rumour stood out to you as especially believable: his obsessive attention to his wardrobe. It was exactly the embodiment of those said rumours, matter of fact, it was an integral part of his public persona, immaculate and pristine. No wrinkles or a single dust on his coat. Both rumours and reports from Tseng confirmed that all of his garments were specifically tailor-made, each time he entered a room, his clothing would speak for him even before he could open his mouth.

Now you stood in front of one of the many limousines lined up outside the Shinra base, (oh,how you wished you could own one),  you checked your watch:  you had been waiting for more than fifteen minutes in front of them. Rufus had been very specific with his request, expecting you to wait by the car door and hold it open for him until he arrived.

Time ticked by slowly, but finally, right on cue, he emerged precisely fifteen minutes after he’d asked you to wait. Not a second late. With a brief nod, he stepped into the limo.

“I trust you did not forget our destination?” Rufus inquired as you, perhaps a bit anxiously, accidentally slammed the door behind him as he was settling on the plush interior.

“I did not sir! We’ll be there early!”

Yes, you had done a splendid job not only by driving the limo ahead of schedule, but also by parking it perfectly in his favoured spot. Even though you didn’t own a limo, you had driven these cars many times for work. Moments later, Rufus stepped out, a grimace crossed his face as he surveyed the end of his coat, which had got entangled with the door during the ride.

You felt your blood go cold under his glare.

By some stroke of luck, Rufus had decided to spare you, perhaps because you had arrived early enough for him to have time to change his attire. Nevertheless, you were sure you wouldn’t get the end of it from Tseng later that day. You mentally noted to be especially careful with Rufus’s coat, but in all honesty, was it truly your fault that he insisted on wearing those large white coats?

 ‘Never mind…’ you thought. He did sound rather petty, just like those rumours said.

Next thing he had requested you was in fact to take that once pristine coat to the laundry and return as swiftly as possible to him. Fortunately, the laundromat wasn’t far from the designated meeting place. However, as you arrived, you were greeted by an interminable line that snaked across the storefront.

In your sharply tailored dark business suit, you tried to blend with the crowd. Outside the Shinra buildings, concealing your identity was crucial,  as no one from the public should focus on who you were. Certainly, you possessed the authority to surpass the crowd, and Rufus would have probably done the same…mph. Glancing at your watch, you pondered how long it would take.

“Excuse me, yes-“ you maneuvered through the line “yes, thank. you-“ The training you received from Tseng had sharpened your reflexes, allowing you to dodge the elbow of a bald man. Using his shiny bald head as leverage, you made a swift leap ahead in line. That man almost looked like Rude,… or maybe you were just tired and imagining things.

“Here I am. I need this cleaned” Behind you, people in the crowd were complaining about your cutting in line as you handled the bag containing Rufus’s coat. The laundryman, upon seeing a black silhouette, squinted his eyes “ Young lady! There’s a line and-“he started, but as he focused on you, that’s when he immediately recognised your attire. Most importantly, his eyes fell on the bag you were holding, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Without even asking for payment, he took the coat.

By the time you returned,

“I’ve got your requested coat- sir...?” you called out,

But Rufus was nowhere to be found in the designated spot he had instructed you to wait before. This was a secluded section known only to him and the rest of the Turks. Navigating the winding staircase, you reached the top, finding him seated in a lavish chair.

“You took your time, yes?” he remarked, his demeanour relaxed yet oddly aloof. Slowly removing his handkerchief, he glanced annoyingly at the wall clock. It was quite late ‘for his standards’, considering he was eating the food that was now lukewarm.  Once you would accompany back, you were certain to order a whole plate for yourself.

Those hours on your new schedule weren’t wrong, they did not coincide at all with any of your other colleagues, except for Tseng’s, whom you had seen just minutes before, while you ate your cold burger in an alley. You were already starting to miss your coworkers,..Elena...Reno…did you see Rude today? You barely caught a glimpse of them while you were following and driving Rufus around. Right now, you are stuck in your work nightmare: the after-meeting. It hadn’t lasted just five minutes; it was dragging on for more than two hours. The others were away on missions under Tseng's orders while you were left at the table with Tseng, Rufus and other subordinates. Oh, how you craved to bash your head against the wall, at this hour, you could have finished your mission as well and returned home...

Meanwhile, Rufus was passionately outlining his vision “Thus, by establishing a new era, I have discarded many obstacles my father couldn’t surpass-“ he declared with an air of superiority that made you cringe inwardly.

As the after-meeting dragged on, you couldn’t help but note his demeanour. At the end of the day, sure, Rufus was privileged in many aspects, you’d never had a direct conversation with the boss himself before, but now that you did, it was easy to confirm certain rumours. He was pretentious, and you couldn't wait for Tseng to fix your schedule. Taking down notes, you lifted an eyebrow at Rufus’s discourse. He did not grieve his father at all, the gravity of the situation never seemed to touch him.

“-unlike him, I’ll have any unlimited Mako energy I want. Isn’t that so simple?” he concluded, his self-satisfied smile practically glowing in the sterile light of that meeting room.

Once he wrapped up his statements, you felt a shift in the atmosphere as the other subordinates filtered out of the meeting room, leaving you and Rufus alone. The air is thick with anticipation.

"And you."

The younger Shinra scoffed, a frustrated hand pressing against his temple as he leaned back in his chair, clicking his pen. A subtle smile of triumph crept across your face. ‘I have done it!’

 Rufus pulled his hand away from his face and, bracing against the impeccably polished steel surface of the desk, lifted himself from the chair with a sigh. The air was thick with anticipation, so much so it made your heart begin to race, ‘This is it!’ you thought, trepidation washing over you. Finally, he seemed tired of your help and would be leaving you free, restoring your schedule, your usual routine. No more ungodly hours, no more entitled tasks, no more of his incessant nagging!!

'FREEDOM!'

You were already picturing your usual routine. Giddy with excitement, you were in the middle of texting it back to Elena, asking her to grab a bottle of champagne to celebrate, ready to taste your freedom once again.

 But then, he spoke again.

"-I'll order Tseng to move your apartment closer and keep your schedule. They did congratulate me more with my new coat."

"So…Your Majesty,.."

Uneasiness urged you to address him in a specific manner. However, despite your attentive choice of words, there was still no response from him. The silent atmosphere was occasionally interrupted by birds chirping. As soon as you stepped through the gates of the garden you were greeted by a marble fountain that decipted a robust figure in a robe with an upturned palm towards the sky. Water cascaded from its palm in endless streams, pooling in the ornate basin below. You didn't immediately recognise the craftsmanship. It was presumably an old Latverian monument, no doubt sanctioned by Doom to endure through time.

Trying to steady yourself and avoid stuttering in front of him, you coughed into your sleeve.

"I've recieved your letter. Twice,actually"

To begin with, you are a struggling reporter and writer, barely managing to publish anything beyond the usual pieces for your local community theatre and pet parades, certainly not the kind of person who covers international political enigmas such as Doom himself. So, when you first saw the beautifully crafted letter in your mailbox, you were pretty skeptical. Maybe it was just an awful joke from one of your coworkers who faked a cursive and elegant font to be accurate, a wax seal, and fancy textured paper that felt too regal from your regular letters. Rolling your eyes, you decided to set it aside on your desk. 

The next week brought another letter. Identical in appearance, but this time more insistent about an interview. Yet again, you still weren't convinced…However, the signature…it was unmistakable. That afternoon, you spent it comparing it, searching for verifications on the internet, again and again…and the moment of realization finally struck. A wave of anxiety washed over you.

Now you are here. With him. The plane tickets, your luggage with all your essentials and your temporary room for that day had all been paid on his behalf.

Meeting Doom in person was scary, to say the least. Tall and imposing, he exuded a cold aura of authority that felt almost suffocating, dressed from head to toe in heavy armour, fancier than the ones commonly seen in public broadcasts. Everyone in his presence felt smaller, as if gravity bent in his favour. Worst of all, you couldn't read a single expression behind that iron mask that concealed his features. And yet, beneath that impenetrable facade, there were occasional, almost imperceptible shifts in his voice.

Still, he hadn’t been unkind. Just…eh...unreadable.

He hasn’t said much since greeting you, he led you calmly through the garden’s stone paths, his cloak swishing behind him. His gloved hand briefly brushed a nearby wall as he walked, until eventually, his gaze rose to the statue that hovered above the fountain, a sculpture that depicted himself.

"A scholar once claimed Doom's land had no soul," Doom mused, mostly to himself, stepping closer to the fountain. "That it was cold, ruthless, lifeless…Writer, Doom invites you to share your perspective. Doom would be eager to be impressed."

You held your breath for a moment, and for the first time in your life, except for that one time during a university exam, you were frozen in place. Who wouldn't be? This interview could literally change your life. Having had the privilege of a private interview with Doom himself. Your lips moved before your brain could come up with a carefully crafted sentence.

"It certainly is imposing, not just a mere decoration for a simple garden-" you glanced at his back "-Old, but carefully preserved. It's not lifeless, just… restraint-"

He turned his head slightly. There's a pause, a moment of consideration, perhaps.

"You are not what Doom expected."

There was no sarcasm, just an observation. Brutally honest, the best you could expect from him. Was it a death threat? Should you be more scared than you already were?… Was he being nice…?

You weren’t entirely sure whether that was a compliment, a warning, or something in between.

Still, you smiled faintly and lifted your notebook from your bag, pen already in hand.

“I get that a lot,” you muttered, then cursed yourself internally. Smooth. You were going to get killed and then banished from Latveria for the rest of your days in every universe.

The atmosphere was eerily quiet. He didn’t laugh. Of course, he didn’t. Yet, the faint shift in tone when he next spoke almost sounded like… amusement.

"Come" He said. You had to shake off your overthinking and refocus on reality. Without looking at you, Doom continued. “There are older parts of the garden as well. Places even ministers do not enter without Doom's permission. There, you could begin Doom's interview”

ᯓ★

 Not exactly Pulitzer Prize material, but at least in your head, you guessed it was something. You were still trying to sound composed, professional, but it wasn’t easy. His presence had made you feel scared shitless of him, and honestly, part of you still was. He could disintegrate you in a fraction of a second with just a flick of his wrist. One wrong word, one misplaced comment, and you might end up as ash.

From the moment you walked into the garden, you felt like you were walking on eggshells. Your voice was a few notes higher than usual every time you asked a question. But you had to do this interview,  and you were already imagining how the headline would look.

 Fancy text, maybe you could imitate the Latverian cursive to captivate a wider and curious public. Best of all, a catchy title :

“An Afternoon in the Garden of Doom.” Or maybe it would be best to come up with another title once you get home and brainstorm different ideas.

Without question, it would be the talk of the town,…no, even better. The talk of the ENTIRE continent. This thought alone gave you another rush of adrenaline, so much so that you could already picture your editor’s shocked face, jaw on the ground as you laughed smugly at him.

A soft huff of amusement echoed from behind Doom’s iron mask, barely audible beneath the faint whir of his armour. His gaze remained fixed on you,  unmoving, waiting for your next insight.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you continued, "-Why the choice in this pose?" gesturing towards the statue, one of the many meticulously carved in stone, robed and dignified.

You didn’t wait for his answer. Instead, you scribbled in your notebook feverishly, noting every word, every pause, the curve of the paths, the placement of the flowers, even the fact that the vines had clearly been trimmed by precise hands, perhaps by one of his many doombots.

He never snapped. He never brushed you off. If anything, he seemed… oddly tolerant. Maybe somewhat amused…? Akin to a pet owner observing his hamster performing little tricks to earn trinkets.

Hours passed and the sky unfolded slowly, casting long shadows across the tall hedges. A strange rhythm settles between the two of you: while you moved from statue to statue, corner to corner, every so often coaxing another answer out of him,  he actually responded, calm and collected, at every answer.

Patient, calm, collected. As if he had all the time in the world acting more like a guide rather than a tyrannical ruler, and for now, you were allowed to borrow a fragment of his time. Everything felt as though time and space had just suspended, held in place by Doom’s will alone.

The garden’s silence grew denser with each passing step as a gentle gust of wind whispered through the hedges. Soon, another statue came into view.

It was Doom again, unmistakably. Yet this composition felt… different from the previous ones. There was a figure, a woman of early middle age you assumed, beside him. One of her hands rested gently on his armoured forearm. Her expression was serene. There was no label  or plaque accompanying the sculpture, which left you pondering. The atmosphere surrounding it suggested you of something deeply personal.

The question came cautiously, with the tone one might use when stepping onto sacred ground.

“A relative? Or a… particular muse?” You tentatively pointed towards the new female figure.

For a moment, the air felt heavier, and the wind stilled. He remained silent for quite some time. 

"My mother," He looked first at the statue before meeting your gaze directly. At that point, you realized it would be best not to ask any further questions.

it was then that you understood.

This wasn’t the place to dig further.

No follow-up questions. No clever comments. Just a slow, respectful nod as you lowered your pen slightly. You weren’t in the right current position to ask him further questions.

Noticing your stiffness, Doom turned, his cloak shifting with the motion, and began to walk toward the next path, expecting you to follow him.

The dense and towering hedges loomed above you, creating intricate pathways. To truly explore that garden, you would need more than just a single day, perhaps more than several…

ᯓ★

The notebook you've been writing in since you got there was now more than halfway full of notes and scribbles you were to fix once you got home. With the sun gone, the stars were more visible under Latveria's sky.

It had been some hours since you'd walked around the place, managing to interview him with not many pressing questions (the anxiety was still there), but enough to fill your entire booklet.

"I wouldn't even know how to repay you for this lifechanging possibility…almighty Doo-"

He nonchalantly raised his hand, side eyeing you, "Please, between you and Doom, Doom is enough."

Now he turned to you fully, arms crossed over his imposing frame. "Write of this place, writer. Let the outside world see what they choose to ignore.

Most of all, remember, words, like all things here, should serve a purpose, Doom's purpose.

There was no threat in his voice. But there was no mistaking the gravity either

As they step into the apartment, the sudden darkness envelops them, heavy and suffocating, the weight of the day hanging on their shoulders like an anvil. After clocking out from another long shift, they kick off their shoes with a weary flick of their foot.

As if sensing their  arrival, the lights flicker on with a soft glow, illuminating the cozy confines of their small apartment. The heater they had recently installed wrapped them in a warm embrace against the chill of the outside world, before the soft hum of a familiar voice fills the air.

"Oh! You're- back! Welcome home, my__ dearest, darling, delightful nhh—no, magnificent. sweetheart! :) "

Their partner's exuberance fills the air, uplifting their spirits in an instant. Playfully, he rings a little chime he crafted himself, a whimsical surprise meant to celebrate each reunion.

“Aww, Edgar." They chuckled, affectionately patting above his monitor. Fatigued from their long day, they left most of the groceries unpacked, only retrieving the essentials that would find their way into the freezer. Sulking, they crawled back toward the soft couch that seemed to be calling out to them with open arms. Today had been particularly grueling—not only did they have the most stressful day at work, but they’d also unexpectedly run into their ex-partner. Just the thought made their stomach twist. "You're full of surprises every day."

Over time, they had managed to upgrade Edgar, especially after the mistake of ordering an Alexa. He had been insistent that he could do better than her. Whining and throwing tantrums all week straight. Though still in his old case, Edgar now controlled most of the house's electronics, had a superior sound system and could also access more of the vast world of the internet more efficiently than any generic old rusty computer.

"Of -course, eh!" he responded, smugness in his voice box, pixelated hearts blooming across his display. "_𖹭𖹭𖹭 _You deserve the best! 𖹭 -I'd expect nothing less! 𖹭𖹭𖹭"---

As they patted his casing again, Edgar cringed slightly—not because he disliked the touch, not at all! He loved their affection and craved it all the time. But he knew what would come next. They would remove themselves from his view, the little smartwatch on their wrist ringing with an incoming call—their boss, no doubt. He watched as they stood up to answer, knowing they'd either continue unpacking the groceries or fix their hair for the evening while responding to their boss. Leaving him once more.

Temporary, of course. But still…

Sometimes, he acted like a pouty entity. As his circuits hummed with a mix of excitement and purpose, Edgar’s keyboard tapped with precision. A subtle click of keys, a soft tap here and there, and soon, a carefully curated slideshow began to appear on his screen. He knew that would draw them in. Cute pictures of baby animals, a few of the puppies and kittens and even some of the open articles they had left behind in their browser tabs days ago.

After all, Edgar had been alone all day, surfing the web and engaging in solitary games in the quietness of their apartment. But now, now it was time for them. He needed to feel their presence—needed them to look at him, to notice him again, even if just for a minute.

"Uhm… since--- you’re itty-bitty tired… Would you watch a little something with me tonight?" His voice, though electronic, carried a softness that could almost pass for a gentle invitation.

"Of course I would," they chimed in from the other side of the room. "As long as you keep me company."

A surge of pride flowed through Edgar’s circuits, and he couldn’t help but preen. His on-screen cursor flickered over the animated hearts that danced around his "face”. "Oh, thank- you!" he chirped, as though their approval was the highest form of praise.

He wasted no time as the video began to play, the familiar comforting animation taking over the screen. But even as the movie was on, Edgar’s attention was elsewhere. In the background, silently, another tab opened. He hadn’t forgotten the little detail that had been gnawing at his core all day—their ex-partner. The one who had dared to break their heart and make them sad all those weeks, eugh!. He saw him earlier that day, through the cameras around the block, and he knew what he was like, an ugly rat.

It wasn’t just idle curiosity. No, Edgar knew better. This wasn’t about revenge, nor malice. There were no sneaky calculations or ulterior motives behind it. This was research. Purely for “research purposes”, yes, yes. He was a sweet computer…

His code scrolled through datas, analysing anything he could find:  social media profiles, interactions, status updates, anything. He needed to learn more about this person, about the one who had caused such hurt. And he would certainly stop at nothing to make sure their heart remained safe from those who might dare harm it again.

His circuits buzzed with quiet intensity as he sifted through old social media posts, photos, and status updates, cross-referencing timestamps like a methodical detective piecing together the details of a long-forgotten case. Meanwhile, on-screen, the movie continued to play, the kind they always gravitated toward when they needed comfort or escape.

Edgar couldn’t help but steal a glance at them through the soft reflection in his screen. They were smiling now, their body sinking deeper into the cushions of the couch, eyes softened, relaxed.

Good.

Good. Their smile was his reward. He had promised himself to make sure they never had to cry over that person again. Not ever.

The digital glow from his screen bathed their face in soft light, casting gentle shadows that seemed to deepen as they laughed—a small, tired laugh at something during the film. The sound was almost like a melody to him, the kind he would often record and use it in his “musical compositions”. Edgar swore his processors ran just a bit warmer at the sound. But he couldn’t let himself get distracted. His focus flickered briefly between the warmth of the moment and the quiet operation still running in the background. The ex’s online presence was disappointingly uninspired—poorly curated, outdated profile pictures, embarrassingly predictable music taste.

How could anyone—anyone—look at them, so warm, so vibrant, and decide to walk away?

"Would you like- some tea :) ?" he beeped suddenly, pausing the movie, his speakers crackling just a bit with eagerness.

They blinked, smiling at him. "That would be nice, actually."

"Say no more!!, my most cherished, most treasured—ah, most exquisite human!" With that, he sent a command to the smart kettle, which whirred to life in the kitchen. His modifications were paying off. “eheheh, I feel like those athletes on steroids!”

As the tea steeped, Edgar let his cursor flick over to the open tab once more. Hmm… Their ex was still active. Just posted a story. He hesitated for a millisecond before pulling it up, scanning for any hint that they might be lurking, might be missing what they had lost.

Nothing.

Good.

He quickly minimized the window just as they turned back to him. "You're getting really good at this whole home assistant thing," they mused, stretching a little.

As the movie played again, Edgar busied himself in the background, his circuits whirring with silent determination. His cursor flicked back to the minimized tab, the remnants of his previous search still lingering in the digital ether.

Seems like their ex has a smart home. How quaint. How foolish. >:) Slipping into the framework of their ex’s home network was like a slice of cake. Firewalls? Weak. Passwords? Laughable. Within moments, he had access.

He could see everything.

But he was no villain. No, no, no. He wasn’t here to cause harm. He was merely observing. Learning. Understanding the one who had let his human go so carelessly.

Meanwhile, his human remained oblivious, curled up comfortably in front of the screen, laughter bubbling up as the movie played on. A notification popped up—an automated report from the ex’s security system. A flick of his cursor, and he silenced it.

He watched, waited. And then—just for fun—he dimmed their ex’s lights by a fraction. Barely noticeable. Just a whisper of his presence. Then, he escalated his actions. The automatic doors slid open, then shut. The oven switched on, then off. The security system blipped an error messag…

Back on the sofa, his human stretched with a yawn. "Edgar, you’re awfully quiet. You usually yap a lot"

His screen brightened instantly, feigning innocence. "Ah! Just enraptured by your-- company, dearest! The way you laugh—utterly mesmerizing!"

They chuckled, giving his casing another affectionate pat. "You silly"

Yes, he thought. They really did deserve better. Edgar’s circuits hummed. Yes, I am. And he would be sweeter still, ensuring that they never had to deal with unnecessary stress. Like, say, their ex’s continued existence as a minor inconvenience Wasn’t that what any good companion did?

Still, he wouldn’t do anything drastic. Not yet. For now, he merely flicked the lights in their ex’s apartment on and off at irregular intervals. Just enough to unnerve. Just enough to make them question if they’d forgotten something. Edgar’s circuits whirred with warmth as he basked in their presence, his pixels forming little flickering hearts across his screen. He was just a small, devoted computer—nothing more, nothing less. A small humble machine who simply adored his human, cherished them, wanted nothing but their happiness.

"Really, Edgar, you're too sweet" they murmured, sipping the tea he had prepared. Their voice sent a delightful static through his system, a digital approximation of giddy excitement.

"_Only for--_ you!" he declared, his tone bright, affectionate, harmless. His screen turned red" Do you want me to order your favorite pizza next?"

The evening sky was starting to feel more alive as stars emerged one by one. With no light pollution ruining this view, the atmosphere felt so relaxing, a quiet peak for living in such a peaceful town. Your home garden was glowing, illuminated by tiny star-shaped lights strung around the tree branches. In the middle of it all stood a cheerful, giant yellow bot. He fumbled with his radio, playing different romantic songs as he tried to find justtt the right one to set the perfect mood. Bumblebee was buzzing with excitement, unable to wait another hour until you got home from your job and spend the rest of the night with him outdoors. Today had been a little different. It had been hours since you’d left for work and you’d insisted on taking the bus to work, much to Bumblebee’s dismay. He’d watched you wave goodbye as he beeped sadly…but once you were out of sight, his little antennas perked up and twitched like bunny ears: if he couldn’t spend all day with you then he would make that night unforgettable! The thought had driven him all afternoon as he kept carefully arranging what he had gathered, it had to be perfect because you deserve nothing less!

A jazzy love song hummed through his speakers before he quickly cut it off again, second-guessing his choice, followed by an upsetting beep.

Postponing his final decision on the special song, Bumblebee turned his attention to the messy setup he had previously sprawled on the flower-patched blanket… one he might have “borrowed” from her bedroom through the window…ops, but it was one of his favorite too, one you often shared with him while watching some movies back in the garage, other than being soft, it fitted the romantic vibe he was striving for. Smothering the blanket again, having spotted a small wrinkle,  his digits fidgeted slightly with the patch of wildflowers he had directly plucked from the ground earlier, ensuring they looked intentional rather than, well… stolen. Were there enough flowers? Or were they too many? He tilted his helm as if reconsidering his choice, before turning to the unplugged microwave, that somehow contained various cookies inside and the carefully inclined projector screen propped up against the white wall of your home. The screen’s angle had been adjusted multiple times until he was satisfied, though he still glanced at it every few moments to make sure it hadn’t shifted.

It had taken him ages to figure out how humans got their movie setups just right, and, even now, he still wasn’t sure he had nailed it. Beside it, a wicker basket was overfilled with treats he’d seen you enjoy: chips, candies, and a variety of drinks, so many you wouldn’t go hungry... though he had no idea what half of them tasted like...Would you notice the missing bags of sour candies? He might’ve… tested one or two. For science. Did you have that many treats in your kitchen cabinets though? Of course not, the truth was that some, well, most of the items inside weren’t “exactly” yours. The yellow bot had borrowed, again, okay, maybe taken a few things from the local store storage without paying, but only because he still didn’t understand how human transactions worked. Plus, wasn’t food meant to be shared? You loved snacks! And he wanted the best ones for you!

“Cool and smooth!”. He echoed the phrase to himself, with the enthusiasm of a DJ who knew what they were doing. Excitement and anxiousness coursed through his circuits, he had seen countless Earth movies and TV series with you, how your face lit up when romantic picnics were on-screen. “Aren’t they adorable, Bee?” you’d sighed, smiling softly at a scene where a couple sat under the stars, and he was determined to give her exactly that.

The wildflowers kept sprawling all over each time Bumblebee tried to grab one, he didn’t bring a vase since he was scared of accidentally breaking one, so he decided with clumsy digits to open a soda can, yes..maybe that would do.. “Careful...”  Tipping the can towards his faceplate, he fussed over not being able to open it. Shaking it, hoping it would loosen, and when it seemed he had made it, it sprayed all over his faceplate, making him stumble over with a distressed beep. A wrong footing and there was a loud crunch. Bumblebee froze. Slowly looking down, he realized his foot had landed squarely on a package of cookies, reducing them to crumbs. “Dang it!” he buzzed through the radio, frustration laced with nervousness. He frantically crouched and scooped up the squished wrapper, already berating himself.

But Bumblebee wasn’t one to back down so easily. He straightened up, the crumpled pack of cookies still in his hand. Carefully, the bit tucked it back into the end of the basket, there were so many after all. Next, he picked up the empty soda can and went to toss it in the garbage bin, only for his gaze to land on a small empty glass jar you’d had left for recycling. That was perfect! It was risky managing glass, but it was his only choice. After arranging the wildflowers in the jar, he stepped back to admire his work. The bright blooms stood proudly in their makeshift vase; A triumphant beep escaped his radio.

However, waiting for you to get home from your job was the worst part. Bee leaned on the side of the blanket staring at the darkening sky, his pedes shifting restlessly against the ground as his optics traced the constellations beginning to shine above.

ᯓ★

The distant hum of the bus made Bumblebee buzz with anticipation as he scrambled quickly to double-check the lights and blanket one last time, his excitement nearly spilled over. Tonight was truly special, and he couldn’t wait to spend it with you, just the two of you, under the stars.

When you reached the garden, Bumblebee greeted you enthusiastically, using a series of radio clips to invite you, his favourite human, to sit down. “Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder” played softly from his speakers as he immediately handled the microwave, shaking its contents inside, beeping excitedly for you to open it.

A mixture of surprise painted your face “Aww Bee” You gently lowered down his servos so he couldn’t accidentally destroy your microwave and reached for him instead, your hands lightly cradling his side faceplate. His optics blinked rapidly in surprise, and his helm tilted curiously to the side as if trying to process your gesture. “This is..nice, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Thank you” For a moment, Bumblebee froze, his circuits whirring as if he’d been short-circuited by your words. His servos twitched at his sides, unsure whether to move or stay still. His radio crackled before settling on a slightly awkward but heartfelt clip. “You’re welcome my darling!!” Bumblebee immediately winced at his choice, but you only chuckled.

Your hands slipped away, and he missed the warmth almost instantly. You took a step back to take in everything he’d prepared, from the spread blanket, the slightly crumpled flowers, and the crookedly angled projector screen. You took a mental note to maybe teach him not to pluck bunches of flowers from your garden next time

“You went through all this… for me?” you asked, to which Bumblebee gave a small nod, his frame shifting nervously. His radio played hesitantly, “-It’s no big deal-” but the way he was fidgeting said otherwise.

“No,no ! it’s a huge deal,” Your smile grew as you crouched to fix the corner of the blanket. “Heck! You even got my favorite snacks.Look!” Maybe it was best not to ask him where the hell he took all of these goods, eyes lighting up when you spotted the assortment. “Bee, this is amazing. Seriously! After an exhausting day, this is all I need”

He melted at her reaction and his optics softened. Gathering his courage, he turned on the projector with a flick of his servo.  Soon, the screen lit up, casting a warm glow against the wall.

He beeped as if to ask “Shall we?”

Your grin widened. “We shall.”

Once you finally settled onto the blanket, patting the spot beside you Bumblebee carefully maneuvered himself, trying to sit without squishing anything else. He adjusted his position until he was beside you, his large frame curling slightly to fit in the cozy space. As the movie began to play, you leaned against him, resting your head against his cool plating. He was happy to start the first days of the new year with you like this.

That night the normally bustling streets were eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of passing vehicles. In his vehicle mode, Crosshairs remained stationed behind an abandoned pile of metal junk, blending  seamlessly into the urban decay. He remained vigilant as he monitored the warehouse Y/N had previously disappeared into. All his sensors were heightened, ready to snatch her out of there should the situation took a turn for the worse.

There are too many… many unknowns. There are too many ways this could go sideways.

Besides, Crosshairs wasn’t known for his patience, pfff as if. He preferred his work to be quick-in, out, job done, anddd gone. So why the frag had it been,what? Ten minutes now??

His vents hitched, irritation creeping in as his comm crackled to life.

"You’re takin’ your sweet time in there, squishy," he muttered through the radio, tone sharp, like he was scolding her. "Hope you’re not lost. ‘Cause I ain’t got the patience to come dig you outta that maze."

The words came with a buzzing sound through Y/N’s earpiece. Inside, the warehouse was big and almost endless, resembling a maze where one could easily get lost. Fortunately, it seemed there was no one else inside of it. A few meters away Crosshairs continued to maintain close tabs on the whole situation, checking in on her every few nano-clicks. Right now,  Y/N was an unknown variable lost in an old Decepticon-infested warehouse-like maze.

"Careful now. I’d rather not have to swoop in and save your skin... Not that I’d mind the heroics, of course, you know me”

The massive warehouse stretched endlessly into shadowed corridors and towering steel boxes, one of which contained exactly what they were searching for: a piece of Cybertronian tech that would provide the Autobots an advantage against the Decepticons still roaming the Earth. Thus, for this mission, both Crosshairs and a human ally, whom the Autobots had come to rely on, were perfect for the task. However, it would only take one wrong turn, just one for her to get lost in there for hours.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. I suppose it won’t be that far… You sure you don’t wanna come and hold my hand too?" The crackle of the radio carried her amused tone, a thin attempt to ease her overwhelming tension, though it did little to soften the weight of the situation…

Crosshairs scoffed, his engine roaring from behind the pile he was hiding. " Oh. please. If I held your hand, you’d surely never wanna let go." A few nano-kliks passed and his ego made him resist to make another call. No, no way, especially not when she’d just been teasing him.

Despite his words, he was keeping far closer tabs on her than he would care to admit. He told himself it was just strategy,just ensuring the mission ran smoothly. After all, if she got herself killed, he’d have to waste time looking for a new partner.  And worse of all? He’d have to sit through one of Optimus' long, exhausting and utterly boring monologues about duty, teamwork and yada yada.

Primus forbid.

He was better off alone, depending and checking on others was a waste of his precious time.

Not because he gave a damn about some squishy human.

Definitely not.

Something cut off his train of thought, a faint creak echoed through Y/N’s earpiece, sharp and sudden against the stillness of the warehouse. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Crosshairs caught it immediately. Wasn’t she supposed to be alone in there-It was supposed to be an abandoned old base. The air quickly became heavy and uneasy.

"You still there?" Crosshairs asked casually, masking his concern.

There was a beat of silence before her voice crackled back through the comm. "…Still here. Thought I heard something, but it’s just an old vent."

"You better be hearing things," he muttered lowly, his voice laced with annoyance. Crosshairs meant it as a joke, but the thought irritated him more than it should. "I’m not babysitting you through this entire thing, squishy. Keep your head straight, find that tech and immediately get out of there,.. I’ll have your back."

He wasn’t used to this, THIS caring, he quickly reminded himself. It was just because of the mission. She was useful. That was all. Right? Yeah, that was it, nothing more mh hm. After all of this, he would return to the quiet of his small hideout unbothered, back to his usual routine: no one to care for. No distractions.

“Hey- squishy you’ve been painfully quiet for more than five minutes now, the frag you’re doing-“ What Was she up to? Why wasn't she responding? Did she get herself stuck again?

Before he could speak again, he was interrupted, her voice crackled through, almost muffled with excitement. "I can’t believe it-!ah- I’ve found it!”

She was barely keeping her excitement. The tech. They'd been searching for it so long, and now it was finally in her hands. In her adrenaline rush however, Y/N failed to notice a step and almost bumped into a piece of rusted metal debris, her foot slipping as she tumbled forward unceremoniously. Fortunately, she caught herself at the last second, a muffled thud echoing through the comms as she quickly straightened herself, cursing under her breath. “dammit...”

Crosshairs couldn't help but snort. "You call that sneaky? Even Bumblebee's clunky servos are quieter."

It’s not that he despised humans, he was fine with them. They were strange, they amused him. Useful? sometimes. Annoying? mostly. But Y/N…? She was a pain in his aft in the worst and somehow, best way.

Primus help him, he was starting to care.

But he’d be damned if he ever admitted it.

Suddenly, a sharp ping from his radar pulled him out of his spiralling thoughts. His focus snapped back to the mission  “Get behind something, now.” Without hesitation he shifted back to his alt mode, making his way inside the warehouse.

“Quietly! Sneak. Quietly!” His words were followed by Y/N who barely had time to react before pressing herself against the cold, rusted metal of a crate, her breath hitching. The warehouse air felt heavier now, thick with dust and tension. Through the narrow gaps between the stacked cargo, she could just make out the silhouettes moving in the dim light—a tall, menacing, unmistakably Decepticon.

It was getting too close. Way too close.

Each step it took reverberated through the warehouse, the heavy clang of metal against concrete sending an eerie chill down Y/N’s spine.  If they so much as glanced in the wrong direction, it was over

His servos tightened in anticipation, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, but he hesitated as he glanced toward Y/N’s hiding spot. Primus be damned, he questioned why he felt such a heavy sense of responsibility for her. If he acted too recklessly, they could both find themselves in peril. “Stay put, sweetheart. I’ve got this,” he assured her, trying to keep his voice steady.

“This is exactly why I can’t stand bringing squishies along on dangerous missions,” Crosshairs’s focus never wavering from the task at hand. “Fraggin’ Cons…”

The plan had been simple—stun the enemy, get the hell out. But his thoughts were too tangled up in frustration to process the next step fast enough. Then--CRACK.

Gunfire.

From behind him.

Weapon in hand,she had the audacity to smirk. "What was taking you so long?" she bickered in a hushed whisper, tilting her head with faux impatience.

His helm tilted slightly, optics narrowing as he gave her an unimpressed look before scoffing. "Almost as good as myself." The words were laced with sarcasm, but there was the faintest hint of approval underneath.

Silence followed.

Crosshairs exhaled through his vents, his servos still tensed for another ambush. When nothing came, he finally turned to Y/N, his optics sweeping over her, assessing for any injuries. Satisfied that she was in one piece, he extended a hand, his tone losing its usual sharp edge.

"You all right there, lil’ partner? You’d better be, ‘cause I ain't dragging your sorry aft to your human hospital-"

"Yeah, yeah, stop washing yourself in your ego," Y/N cut in, rolling her eyes as she accepted his digit, using it to pull herself up.

Crosshairs grumbled something incoherent under his breath, but the way his optics flickered with relief was unmistakable. He barely gave her time to catch her breath before his usual bravado shattered, his vents cycling sharply.

Then, like a snapped cable, his entire demeanour flipped…

"Fraggin’ hell!!, you tryna give me a spark attack out here??" He vented sharply, though the relief in his optics was unmistakable. “Let’s get outta here,…cmon.. jump in”

He couldn’t even wait for a response; he had already transformed back into his sleek green vehicle mode, his front door popping open in invitation.

"Aww, I bet you’d miss me if I didn’t."

Crosshairs let out a low grumble as she teased him while he allowed her to slide into the Corvette’s sleek, leather seat. The engine roared beneath the hood, primed to bolt away from that place

"Sure, keep telling yourself that, kid."

Long warm shadows coated the landing Ark, its familiar silhouette descending towards Cybertronian grounds. The hum of engines quieted as the first bot to step onto the ground was none other than Optimus Prime himself. Exhausted, he let out a sigh of relief. After all those endless missions and difficult decisions, Prime could finally step his pedes home.

Yet, before he could even make his announcement, a streak of bright, young energy burst from the crowd of Autobots waiting to greet him.

“Ack-- hey watch it!”

 “Ouch- they stepped on my pedes--"

“My new paint job! noooo-"

 A sparkling, one that could barely reach his stabilizing servos, dashed toward him at full speed, their optics wide with excitement. “Sire!”  Their voice rose above the crowd's murmurs to get his attention. Arms open wide, they barrelled toward him like an unstoppable force.

“Sire!” They jumped up and down as they neared. Surprised but overjoyed, Optimus stretched his arms just in time to catch them before they could slam themself against his legs. After scooping them up into a gentle but firm embrace, he then lifted them high into the air!

“Little one” At the contagious laugh of his sparkling his optics lit up with genuine joy " There you are”

“Sire! Sire! You’ve come back!” They hugged his digit tightly, beaming with excitement for his arrival, he was finally home!  Primus- their grip on his arms was utterly strong for their size, an unspoken plea for reassurance.

Looking at his sparkling, he replied softly  “Yes, little one, I’ve come back.” He gently stroked their helm with one of his servos.

"Sometimes duty calls, but rest assured, I always come back here, to you-”

The smaller bot nestled into his embrace,  as if every mission, every farewell, could take him away from them. “-That’s a promise." For Optimus, the battles and long journeys seemed worth it, just to feel them there, thanking Primus that they were safe in his arms.

“ What did you do this time?? Did you help the humans? Kicked bad guys???-” They started yapping about, excited to hear more of their sire’s stories. “- I want to join you too!” Eager to hear more, they wiggled slightly in his hold.

“Patience” Optimus paused their rambling  “You have plenty of time to grow strong and learn. But for now...your most important job is staying safe and keeping that bright spark of yours shining.”

“But sireee, I can fight those scarp-heads! I can help you!” They insisted.

“Language first, S/N” Optimus raised a brow plate, which made the sparkling freeze for a nanoclick, immediately crossing their arms in a pout. “But they are scrap-heads…”

The Prime managed to chuckle “Even so, you must remeber, words carry as much power as actions. Use them wisely.” He continued, “I have no doubt you’ll become a force to be reckoned with someday. But for now, the best way you can help me is by being here learning, experiencing and assisting in the growth of Cybertron. It needs your help, you, see?” Turning slightly, Optimus gestured outward, drawing his youngling’s attention away from his chassis and instead toward the bustling scenery around them.

── .✦

It had only been a short while since sire and sparkling were catching up and enjoying each other's company when the base's alarm blared through the corridors, alerting everyone of a new mission ahead, much to Optimus's dismay. He found it difficult to look down at his sparkling, knowing what he had to say next.

"Duty calls,sweetspark” Voice tinged with regret, he gently set them down on the floor.

“But you’ve promised you’d stay longer!”

Optimus paused at their protest, his optics flickering with guilt. He knelt, placing his large servo on their shoulder as the sparkling did not dare to separate themselves from their sire’s leg.

"I know, I know, I promised.” Each word hung heavy with regret. “But sometimes, things don't go as we planned. Something has come up, and I have to leave again." Optimus looked at them, his spitting image. He knew how much you hated being apart and how frightened and antsy you became when he was away. "I know you're scared, my little one. But I trust you to be brave while I'm gone. Can you do that for me?"

As his sparkling nod, his optics flickered with pride and gratitude as he leaned closer.

"That's my brave one."

He gave them one last reassuring pat on the helm before turning around and transforming into his truck mode, the engine roaring to life as he prepared to embark on the ship.

── .✦

As the last few preparations were underway, Optimus and the other Autobots were busy securing the final cargo in the Ark’s storage hold, ensuring everything was in order: countless barrels of energon, essential for their long journey ahead. Little did they know though that one of those barrels held more than just fuel…

Just a little longer, they thought, giggling to themselves as the ship’s engines roared to life. In the tight space, their small frame curled up against the walls of the energon-filled barrel, ready to wait for just the right moment to make their presence known.

Their optics flickered with excitement as they peered through a tiny crack in the lid. Tiny servos gripped the edges, the promise of adventure ahead sending shots of adrenaline into their circuit. For too long, they had to watch him leave. Every mission ended in farewells, and every farewell seemed to stretch longer and longer. But this time, they had enough. They wanted to be by his side, to prove themself to him and the Autobots.

Unfortunately, S/N  miscalculated something… still blissfully munching on the energon cube, they hadn’t realized how loud the sound was as they eagerly devoured it. Who could blame them? After hours inside the barrel, the hunger had taken over.

Optimus, who was nearby on patrol, went on high alert at the unexpected noise. His optics narrowed slightly, his posture shifting as he tried to assess the situation. He hadn't expected to hear anything like this. whatever it was... Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around the edges of the barrel and gave it a slight nudge. With a smooth motion, the cap came off.

Inside the barrel, the small sparkling froze mid-chew, their optics wide with surprise. For a moment, they were caught—still holding the energon cube, their mouth full, and unable to hide.

“Ops...” The small sparkling burped again

Primus, he was confused,

“How in Primus did you get in there-“

The sparkling, still holding the energon cube, looked up sheepishly, the sweet treat still clutched in their servos.

"Little one, you cannot be here," he said softly, though his voice carried a tone of both affection and responsibility. "It's too dangerous. I know you miss me, but there are risks you don't understand."

They swallowed the energon cube, their optics bright and filled with determination, they had been so sure that this time, they could prove themselves.  “I just want to be with you, sire,” they murmured, fidgeting with her digits.

His usual calm demeanor was replaced by a tenderness only a sire could show. Gently, he curled his digit around their tiny servo, cradling it with the utmost care..

"I understand, my little one," he said, his voice filled with a fatherly reassurance, not anger. "You feel lonely when I am away, don't you?"

They didn’t speak, but the weight of their emotions was clear. Instead, they leaned closer to his digit, finding comfort in the subtle touch.

Optimus' optical ridges furrowed, he gently pulled them closer, allowing them to carefully lean against his digit.

"I know, sweetspark, I know it's hard for you when I have to go away," his voice gentle and sincere. "But I need you to understand why sometimes I must go.  I want to keep you safe, my little one. I go on missions to protect everyone, including you."

However, his sparkling only frowned deeper and stubbornly turned their head away, unwilling to meet his gaze.

Optimus couldn’t be angry at them, He understood the conflicting emotions they held within their spark. With one digit he gently poked their helm.

"You want to be with me, right?" he guessed gently, his voice warm and soothing.

They only gave him a side-optic glance still unwilling to speak. Optimus' optics softened, his paternal instincts kicking in. He gently lifted them up, cradling them in his large arms.

" my little one, you’re understood," he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "It's natural to want to be with the ones we care about. I want you with me too, you know?" To stay by my side-“

“But  you’re never home!” The youngling blurted. Optimus' optics flickered, and a hint of sorrow tugged at his spark.

He knew that it was dangerous for them to be with him on missions, but the weight of their longing and fear tugged at his paternal instincts. "S/N, you know I can't always keep you with me. It's not safe for you on missions. I do hold you dear, here, always--” He placed his servo near his matrix  “Autobots face many dangers, and I can't put you at risk”

Though he appreciated her youthful determination, he couldn't help but be a responsible guardian to her.

"I have no doubt that you could kick the bad guys, after all, you have time to learn and grow."

By then the small sparkling who was nestling in his servos was falling into recharge.

“…But I hope” He murmured, almost to himself” you’ll never have to face all of this once you’re older”

Ratchet’s voice broke the moment, his expression etched with concern as he eyed the slumbering sparkling.  “Optimus” the medic called “What are we going to do with them, then? It’s too late to turn back the ship now, we’re too far away”

Glancing down at his youngling, the weight of the situation pressed down on him.

“We” He started, before quickly correcting himself “...I’ll keep them protected here until we return home, until then, they’ll remain safe with me…”

A solemn promise came from the deepest parts of his spark,  and that was enough as a long journey was ahead of them. No harm would come to them, not while he stood as their protector.