Young Master ~Part 6 (Human! Optimus X Human! Reader)

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A/N: Megatron: WE ARE BACK IN LINE!!! YES!

Ratchet: FRAGGING FINALLY!

Soundwave: A gentle reminder to the readers that Anna will continue the introduction later. The crew wasn't cooperative during the last chapter. Soundwave proof-reads this chapter today.

Anna, on the couch: My whole body...is...d-dying...

Optimus, holding an ice pack to his helm: I-I...I need to get in...a-action now...here, have my ice...

Soundwave wishes the reader happy reading; Wheeljack will be dealt with later. Soundwave would also like to mention that the pic above was drawn by Anna to depict Human! Optimus as the butler.

Enjoy (owo)

TW: Gore.

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The next morning, you woke up in an awful state of wanting to throw up and you rushed towards the bathroom. Bending over the toilet bowl, you emptied out the contents while grimacing at the horrible acidic taste left in your mouth.

"(N/N)?" Optimus's voice was soft as he held your hair away from your face, preventing them from getting stained with your puke. He helped you up and did all the cleaning, once again taking the time to take care of your sick figure...when you push him away.

"Lady-"

Your head went down instantly, vomiting again. The whole process repeated for a while and Optimus was getting worried.

Thus, with much reluctancy, he called Medivac.

His instinct screamed at him to request for Ratchet, but he didn't want to raise any suspicion for calling his friend instead of the house doctor.

"Medivac, Lady (Y/N) is in need of assistance." He monotonously stated. The sound of tongue clicking echoed in his comms and Optimus struggled not seeing red at that moment.

"Bring her to my office..." Medivac yawned.

"Unfortunately, her condition allows not of such luxuries. I ask that you visit her room in this instance."

"It's only 6am! My work starts at 7, Optimus. Be glad that I'm answering your calls!" Medivac groaned.

Silence was all the sleazy, money-loving bastard received in reply and he sighed. "Fine, fine."

Cutting off the line, the butler's hands drove into his pockets and felt the familiar cold steel inside, blood boiling hot.

"O-Optimus-HURGGGHH!!" You puked again.

But this time, you threw up CHUNKS OF BLOOD.

"(Y/N)!!!"

Optimus's eyes sparked with panic and he gathered some tissue, hastily wiping them off your mouth and carried you bridal-style. You were still leaking blood and the Prime was, WITHOUT A DOUBT, worried. He dialled another call, hoping to God the receiver would pick up.

"Orion-"

"DAD! (Y/N)'S DYING! HELP, PLEASE!!" Optimus's voice struck a chord inside Alpha.

It was the same tone he had heard when his wife died.

"Calm down-"

"DON'T FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, DAD! GET THE CAR READY- JUST PLEASE, DO SOMETHING!" Optimus screamed, kicking down the door as he bolted down the carpeted floors.

"MASTER (L/N)! YOUR DAUGHTER IS DYING!!" He screamed.

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU- Oh!" Monica's harsh scowl morphed into something Optimus could only describe as glee. "Is she dead yet?"

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