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Imagine working in maintenance for illegal street racing when you’re not at your real job. Your job, checking over the cars before races, is dumb and boring. But watching the cars race? Hearing the rubber of tires squeal over the tarmac, engines roaring so loud it vibrates through the ground? You LOVE it
You show up after your regular 9-5 at the meet up for the new races, and your jaw hits the floor at the sight of a beautiful red Aston Martin, the renowned ghost driver of the tracks, parked alongside the other race cars. No one knows the face of the mysterious driver behind the wheel, nor does he ever speak to anyone at the event. He doesn’t even hang around to collect the price money for winning races, vanishing as quickly as he arrived (and always with a dramatic flare)
You’re doing your thing, checking over the cars and their tire pressure, when you catch yourself admiring the finish of the Aston Martin, stunned at how clear your reflection is and how spotless the windows are. Of course, you dare not touch it in risk you might break the beautiful thing, so instead you simply voice aloud how gorgeous the car is, wondering what a knockout car like this is doing in some illegal street racing contest with the dreads of society
So imagine your surprise, shock and utter mortification when a smooth, masculine voice purrs from the vehicle “Like what you see?~”
You’re not sure whether to be more embarrassed over the undignified swear that rips out of your throat when you leap back OR the fact that the famous driver has been listening to you gush about his car for the past ten minutes whilst you spew every apology you can think of. You’re not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing that the only responce you get is an amused, cool chuckle
Imagine growing something of a bond with the Aston Martin driver, who though you learn has an ego the size of Texas, is a good conversationalist, unlike the other company that makes up the street racing community.
You’re everything Knockout shouldn’t look for in decent company: scruffy, unrefined, and a HUMAN no less!
Yet you’re the only human he’s met on this forsaken planet that seems to admire his finish as much as he, you don’t groan and roll your optics when he talks about the tedious task of keeping himself looking as lustrous as he does. Quite the opposite, you AGREE with him! It never fails to stroke his ego when you readily admit that he’s the most impressive car you’ve seen at the races
And when you offered to buff out a scuff he’d gotten from another racer (which he drove off the road), and wanting nothing in return, Knockout finds himself…wondering about you. He’s further stumped when he finds himself looking forward to street racing, because it means you might be there
After finishing a race one evening, Knockout decides to surprise you by casually declaring the money prize to you when he finishes first place, leaving both you and everyone rendered speechless.
When you stumble after him to try to convince him the money is too much for you to accept, all he replies with is:
“Consider it a gift, from one automobile enthusiast to enough~”
and then he drives off, leaving you confused, shocked, and unbelievably flattered by the unexpected act of generosity
Of course, you have no idea that you’ve in fact caught the attention of an alien life form
Knockout wonders if Lord Megatron will allow him to keep you as a pet when they inevitably overthrow your planet
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Contains, So this is sexual but also non sexual. It’s a very emotional spark bonding moment with some interface fluids involved, if I had to describe it as anything. It’s just my take on how that all works. Maybe someone else has done it or not, who knows this fandoms is as vast as space. The spark chamber is where everything comes from.
Anyway behold the longest fanfic I have ever written.
Summary, Starscream always kept a record of every incident when it came to you. How easily you broke down his walls, how many times he took a different route away from you, how many times you found him anyway, every sharp work he spoke, every tense moment. It never stopped you. He could never come up with a strategy to keep you away. But maybe he never truly wanted to. Maybe all he wanted way to be chosen by you. Maybe that’s why his spark always leads him to you.
The mission had gone well, a rarity worth celebrating but most of the Decepticons had disappeared into the ship’s recreation halls, eager to spend their hard earned energon on loud stories and even louder arguments.
Starscream wanted none of it.
He stalked down the corridor with his wings held stiffly against his back, muttering under his breath about incompetence, inadequate formations and seekers who couldn’t tell their left thruster from their right.
“Absolute buffoons.”
Behind him came the unmistakable click…click…click of your pedes against the metal deck. “They’re celebrating.” You spoke as you caught up beside him.
He barely turned his head to acknowledge you. “They’re celebrating mediocrity.”
“They’re celebrating surviving.”
“Which is, frankly, the bare minimum expectation.” Starscream sniffed.
You found yourself smiling to yourself as you walked beside the seeker. You’d learned long ago that when Starscream complained this much, it usually meant he was exhausted.
“You flew well today.”
“I know.”
“You protected me.”
“I protected an asset.”
“Mhm.”
“You were under my command.”
“Mhm.”
“I would have done the same for Soundwave.”
“Mhm.”
“Stop agreeing with me.”
“Mhm.”
He shot you an irritated look. “.…You’re insufferable.”
“You like me.”
“I tolerate you.”
You laughed at his bristling as always. The sound echoed down the corridor, warm enough that Starscream’s wings twitched despite himself.
He hated that laugh. Not because it annoyed him. Because it had become something he found himself listening for.
Dangerous. Exceptionally dangerous.
You reached the observation deck almost without thinking. Simply following the direction Starscream was heading in.
Cybertron hung impossibly distant through the reinforced glass, nothing more than a memory suspended among stars.
You rested a hand against the viewport. “I wonder if it’ll ever feel like home again.”
Starscream didn’t answer immediately.
Home. An absurd concept.
He’d spent so long surviving that he’d nearly forgotten what the word meant.
Finally, he spoke. “Perhaps.”
You looked over at him for a moment before voicing what neither of you wanted to. “You don’t believe that.”
“No.”
Silence settled between them. Not uncomfortable. Just.…full. Full of your own thoughts and memories. Back to when the dead planet was bright with life.
After a while you decided to step closer to the second in command. Close enough that Starscream became acutely aware of every centimeter separating you.
“You’ve been quiet.”
“I’ve been speaking this entire walk.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
“You’ve been carrying something.”
Starscream scoffed. “I carry this entire faction.”
You reached up before you could second guess yourself. Just one careful hand against the side of his face.
His entire frame locked. “You-“
“You can tell me to stop.”
He should. He absolutely should.
Instead, “You’re touching my face.”
“I am.”
“No one,” His voice faltered. “.…No one does that.” There was no mockery in your expression that he could detect. Only something heartbreakingly gentle.
“You deserve some kindness.”
Starscream laughed, the sound coming out brittle. “I assure you, I do not.”
“I disagree.” Your thumb brushed lightly along the edge of his cheek plating.
Starscream closed his optics. Just for a second.
This all felt entirely too….Safe.
Primus.
When had anything last felt safe?
He opened them again to find you still there.
Still waiting.
Not demanding.
Not expecting.
Just….Waiting for him.
That somehow frightened him more than any battlefield. “Do you understand,” he asked quietly, “What are you doing to me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think you do.” His wings shifted uncertainly. “I have spent vorns ensuring no one possessed leverage over me.”
“I don’t want leverage.”
“No?”
“I want you.”
The words landed with all the subtlety of orbital bombardment.
Starscream stared.
His processor simply….Stopped.
“.…What.”
“I want you.”
“You cannot possibly.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
You smiled, a little sadly this time. “Because beneath all the yelling and impossible standards and dramatic speeches….”
You reached for one of his hands. “….there’s someone who’s been waiting a very long time for someone to choose him.”
His fingers tightened around yours before he realized he’d done it. “You are making an extraordinary miscalculation.”
“I’ve made worse.”
“I am arrogant.”
“I know.”
“Demanding.”
“I know.”
“I can be cruel.”
“I know.”
“I am….not easy to love.”
“No.”
You stepped even closer until your foreheads nearly touched. “But I think you’re worth loving anyway.”
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Then Starscream did something that would have shocked every Decepticon aboard the Nemesis.
He leaned into you.
Barely.
Just enough for your foreheads to meet.
His voice was scarcely above a whisper. “You are the greatest tactical error I have ever made.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his statement. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I imagine you have.” His lips brushed yours in a kiss so tentative it almost seemed like he expected you to vanish if he committed to it.
So you kissed him back, committing when something was still holding him back. It made his breath catch. Not because of the kiss itself. Because you had chosen to stay.
When you finally drew apart, he looked at you as though trying to solve an impossible equation. “If we continue,” he murmured, “I am unlikely to retain anything resembling coherent thought.”
“I like seeing you flustered.”
“I am not flustered.” One of his wings betrayed him with an involuntary flick.
You raised an amused brow. “That wing says otherwise.”
Starscream looked ready to argue.
Instead, he covered his face with one hand. “This is humiliating.”
“I think it’s adorable.”
“Do not use that word.”
You took his hand again, lacing your fingers through his. “Come with me.”
He glanced toward the empty corridor, then back at you. “.…You are certain?”
You answered by giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve never been more certain.”
For once, Starscream didn’t have a clever retort. He simply exhaled, a mixture of disbelief, surrender and hope. “You are going to be the end of me.”
“I’d rather be the beginning of something.”
A smile, small, genuine and so rare it would have stunned anyone who knew him appeared despite his best efforts.
Still holding hands, you both disappeared down the corridor together.
The door slid shut behind the both of you with a quiet hiss, leaving the ship to its celebrations.
For the first time in a very long time, Starscream allowed himself to believe that tomorrow might hold something worth looking forward to.
The room was quiet.
And for a moment you stood there, only a slight hesitation stilling the next move on your mind. That moment where you didn’t think you’d get this far. However now was not the time for pause, you have Starscream all to yourself. Best not waste a second.
Starscream was not prepared when you made the first move on him. As you leaned forward to quickly capture his lips.
The kiss started out with gentle intentions. As though you were still asking permission. Honestly Starscream found himself silently asking the same thing.
But you knew that if this was going to evolve into something more than kissing in your quarters you had to keep testing how far he was willing to go.
You lifted a hand to the back of his helm, encouraging him closer instead of letting him retreat.
That was all the encouragement he needed.
The restraint he was so proud of was slowly starting to dissolve. His servos came up to hold you like a vice. There would be no retreat for either of you.
He kissed you with the intensity of months of unspoken affection. With relief and longing wrapped into one moment, not rushed but committing wholeheartedly, as if every time he’d pulled away too soon had finally caught up with him.
When you briefly separated, neither of you moved. Servos still clinging to each other's frame work. Foreheads coming to rest together with a light clink.
Starscream’s wings were now trembling just slightly. His hand rose almost hesitantly, fingertips brushing the side of your face. “So reckless.”
Leaning into him you grip his waist tighter, running one hand up his back. Feeling each one of his back plating ridges and how they seem to shift under your careful touch.
The glow of your optics were almost uncomfortably bright as they painted his face in their color. In the dim light of the room it just makes him look all the more enchanting to you. Especially with his own eyes so wide and dilated.
You couldn’t help but tease him. “I think you’re afraid.”
“I fear nothing.” Starscream straightens in your hold immediately upon hearing your words.
“Then back up to the berth.”
“….”
“You don’t have to.”
“I said I fear nothing.”
Five minutes later he’s mentally screaming because he has made an irreversible tactical error.
Starscream was laying rigid, wings slightly unfolded, vents fluttering violently. His optics are wide, shifting between panic and disbelief.
Clawed hands hover near you, uselessly because touching you now would break boundaries but not touching you feels wrong.
When this had first started he thought he could handle it. He’d been so willing under the light of the stars but the doubt was now creeping up on him. Not so much in the choice but in his confidence of playing this off later as nothing.
That would always be the safest choice for Starscream.
However, as he had stated before you were a tactical error that he had made and right now he was still making it.
Having you servos running up his frame, up his waist, over his chest paneling, running up his arms. Taking his servos and placing them on your hips. Making you lean over him in the most tantalizing ways. The way your optics held his, it made him unable to look away.
You were worshipping his frame. Every trace of your fingers was saying more than you verbally could to him.
The admiration for him was in your eyes. The way you ran a hand over the edges of one of his wings. Peppering light kisses against his neck, running your tongue over the framework that were there.
Primus, help him if you bit him.
Touch alone was making his entire being rattle. Which was near unbearable levels of embarrassment for a seeker such as himself.
He didn’t want to look down at the panel that protected his inner works and spark chamber. There was no denying the sensation of interface fluid seeping through the cracks of his plating. The dim light of the room would have been a blessing if such fluids didn’t have the effect of glowing as bright as energon.
The urge to tell you not to look was rising in his throat when his optics dipped to your own plating as you leaned back. The sight effectively made the words die in his vocalizer.
Interface fluid dripped from between your chest panels, coming out in thick globs that fell onto him. Starscream had to grit his teeth to stop some embarrassing noise from escaping him.
It was amazingly lewd.
And that should have been distracting enough had he not noticed that your interface fluid was unusably bright. He’d wish his thoughts would just stop already but he was curious as to why. It was a stupid need, call it the long forgotten scientist in him.
Pushing past the desires he was caving into Starscream followed the flow back up to the shifting plating of your chest. Primus, it was just leaking out, mixing with his own. Ah, no. Keep. On. Task.
Casual interfacing wouldn’t be this bright, let alone so much of it being present.
Red optics took in the details of all the compact components that made up your chest paneling before noticing the bright shine from within where your panel had slightly opened.
Oh.
Oh, Primus. He could see your spark.
He was frozen. Half panicked, half flustered, fully aware that he was now powerless against the audacity of your emotional claim.
Starscream's voice came out low as if in reverence of this display. “You can not possibly….” The words half muttered under his breath.
Showing even a sliver of your spark was beyond anything he could have imagined happening to him. He was half in awe and half in denial.
Seeing a spark wasn’t like holding hands.
It wasn’t even like kissing.
It was asking someone to reveal the part of themselves that had existed since they first came online.
Every joy.
Every fear.
Every scar.
It's all centered there.
And he was seeing just a small part of your very existence. What had he ever done to deserve something like that?
You should close your panel. He shouldn’t be the one to see your spark.
Something came over Starscream as he reached for the latches securing his own chest plating. Like he’d become possessed by some carnal need. His previous thoughts now abandoned momentarily.
Just a little, he could show you just a crack. His hands were shaking as a single sharp digit hooked under a single latch.
But just as suddenly as he had been overcome with such a feverish desire he stopped, the latches hadn’t undone themselves. That fact held him back with brutal clarity.
He knew the slight gap of your chest paneling was intentional, though he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge what that meant in regards to how you felt about him. But his hadn’t budged. He’d have to open it himself.
Was it awful that he didn’t want to? Or many it was more so that he couldn’t bring himself to. You’d probably be disappointed in him. This would be one of his most embarrassing retreats when it came to you.
However when his optics shifted up to look at you, expecting your reaction to his impotence to be less than pleased, he didn’t find any rejection.
You didn’t look surprised, instead there was only acceptance. But you weren’t looking at him, you were looking down at your own spark chamber. The bright light was still forcing its way through the small parting of your armor plates.
Like you knew this would happen. Not his own chest plating not opening but knowing that yours would open. And the only way you would have known that is if this wasn’t casual for you.
Interface fluid still ran down your plating in colorfully bright rivets. Pooling all the way down to where you sat comfortably on his midsection, legs on either side.
Almost tentatively you reach a hand up your frame, collecting stray droplets until it started running down your arm and through your fingers.
For a second Starscream thinks you're unaware of your own actions and he immediately takes that thought back when your optics drift back to his.
Slowly, you let the collection of interface liquid fall from your hand and onto his chest panel. The action has Starscream going as rigid as a statue, wings half flared, vents quietly hissing like a kettle about to scream. His processors are still trying to make sense of the impossible warmth that just shot through his spark.
Both interface liquids mix and collect over every single ridge and groove of his body. Resulting in a half groan he lets slip out before cutting it off. The seekers back noticeably curves slightly, lifting you up for a second before he can make himself lie flat against the berth again.
Your fingers brush along the crease of his plating, the mixed interface fluid collecting as you trace the line. Starscream is hypnotized by the moment, the intimacy of it all mixing together. So engrossed he doesn’t notice you lifted those greedy digits from him until you open your mouth.
Swiping your tongue up your own servo to taste the forbidden mixture. An audible sound of pleasure practically vibrates through your frame.
This is catastrophic for the second in command. His pride, his circuitry, his vent regulation are all compromised now and it’s because of you. His clawed servos flex and most likely leave some light scratches against your frame with how quickly he moved them.
But Primus be damned if he makes a single sound. He’d rather crack your leg plating and bite his own tongue off than let anything slip out.
A sting of mixed fluid clings to your mouth and hand as you peer down at him. By the way your optics have dilated it’s safe to say he is very much in danger.
Even leaning forward enough to look at him sends new fluid spilling from your spark chamber. You look far too mischievous right now, far too determined to do something that will ultimately lead to his undoing. He just knows it.
Your hands start navigating his plating with practiced ease. You perch delicately over his midsection, your hand tracing against his chest panel.
You ask softly, “I just….Can I….?” As if you’re in awe of him. The anticipation of seeing what lies under his paneling clear in your voice.
Starscream freezes, his instincts scream to not let you near his spark.
But you’re already maneuvering your fingers under his chest panel. He goes to stop you, claws reaching out, as a harsh groan escapes him. “You cannot-”
A soft click echoed through the room.
Starscream’s vents caught as he heard the unmistakable sound of the second and third latch release. And you hadn’t been the one to open them. His own biology was betraying him with his true desires.
The final lock disengaged.
His chest plating unfolded with quiet mechanical grace letting a brilliant cyan light spill into the dim room.
Starscream's helm practically snapped back against the berth as his body jolted from the release of his paneling. A strangled sound gave away exactly the sort of effect it had on his overall systems.
His spark floated within its chamber, not only could he feel it but he knew you could feel it too.
Its light danced gently against the polished metal surrounding it and reflected softly against your face.
The sound of your breath catching hardly distracted Starscream enough from his own turmoil. He wanted to hide. However with his spark on full display before you he knew he would never be able to hide from you again.
Because the spark was him.
All of him.
His hopes.
His grief.
His stubborn resilience.
His capacity to love despite every reason he’d found not to.
It felt terrifying to have someone see him exactly as he is.
You would have realized just how desperately he wanted someone to choose him without wanting something in return.
You’d understand him now enough to know that the loud, arrogant, conniving seeker was also carrying centuries of fear behind all that armor.
Starscream knows his vents are fluttering.
Your eyes close briefly and he knows why. It feels safe, it feels good. The connection is warm. Like being completely surrounded.
It’s not just energy transfer. It’s connection. Mutual recognition. Emotional resonance.
Starscream’s body goes stiff. His voice drops an octave, he can barely speak but feels like he must, even if it comes out as a stammer, “.…I-! You….you dared-”
He’s not sure why he keeps trying to deny this. Truthfully he’s not anymore but he just wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t make a fuss.
You hum softly in response, the smallest spark induced vibration running in your chest as you laced one servo with his own. “I’m with you.”
Oh Primus give him mercy, don’t say things like that to him. Don’t look at him like that.
With a single touch of your fingertips running around the outside of his spark chamber you are making him feel like you’re dismantling him.
You were now looking at him like you had seen something beneath all the armor. And you had, you knew him better than anyone else now.
And Starscream hated how much he wanted to know what you saw. What did you see when you looked at him like that?
Red optics tried to look somewhere else beside your face. Even without your eyes boring into his it was impossible to ignore the tingles that were now dancing across his framework.
Starscream did not trust easily. Trust was a weakness. Trust was an opening. Trust was how others found the soft parts of you and learned exactly where to strike. How to tear you apart.
But you had never tried to take anything from him.
You never demanded loyalty.
Never mocked his fears.
Never treated his ambition like something pathetic.
His entire frame was getting wrecked by the intensity of how being so exposed made him feel. The tension nearly made his body lock up before it made it relax into bliss. Over and over again.
Enough interface fluid being produced that his spark was practically swimming in it. Starscream’s mouth now takes on the opposite role of being unable to shut up with incoherent sentences.
“I cannot.…you cannot….you dared….my spark….my….I-! Oh, this is all your fault….” His voice quivers between fake outrage and awe.
He should push you away but every emotional processor screams louder in a fumble of conflicting words, ‘Leave them, protect them, never let anyone underestimate them again, stop this, keep going.’
.…and the terrifying realization that he’s already entirely under your emotional sway.
Though Starscream was clearly trying to come down from a high it wouldn’t change the fact that both your sparks now wanted closer.
Maybe it was the slight shakes from having you view his spark but his body still felt so restless. He wanted more, he shouldn’t but he does. He really, really does.
Then you spoke, gently, as if waking him from a dream, “Feel mine.”
Starscream could feel his processor crashing all over again. His poor systems were still trying to catch up. He’d heard you clearly though and your words weren’t said with a hint of flirtation. Just a deep desire to be completely connected to him.
An offer of equal vulnerability.
Your spark.
The core of what makes you.
Given freely.
To him.
He looks up at you, optics already at half mass, not sharp, not defensive. Just utterly stunned. “Do you have any concept of what you are offering?”
Obviously you did, being a cybertronian yourself the meaning of showing another your spark was not lost on you.
Starscream just couldn’t believe that you wanted to give him more.
You’d already given him so much, just that little piece of your spark was enough for him. Just the fact that you had accepted his spark was all he could really ever want.
You shrug lightly with one shoulder. “You let me see yours. I want to let you be near mine too.”
He could only hear trust in your words and you spoke like it was such a simple answer.
Starscream sat up to be closer without meaning to, interface fluid spilling from his open spark chamber. Clawed hands came up to hover near your chest plating, hesitant now, almost reverent. “I could damage you,” he says quietly. “I am not….gentle.”
You met his optics, your gaze steady. “I know.”
His clawed servos trembled slightly as he very carefully opened the access panel over your spark chamber all the way. Interface liquid smeared over his hands as your more than willing chamber panel sprang open.
Warm light spilled out, softer than his, a different frequency.
Your arms came up with a startled sound escaping your throat. Your hands finding purchase by digging into his shoulders to steady yourself. Your back plates shifting to conform your spine into a beautiful arch.
Starscream uses one servo to support you from falling back but doesn’t touch your spark yet. Mainly because he couldn’t even fathom that this was all really happening. Content to just sit there to feel the energy radiating there.
Though he could feel your optics on him. You were patiently watching his face, not the panel. “You look scared,” you murmured out all too sweetly.
“I am not scared.” he whispers.
He is.
Because this is the moment he realizes: You’re choosing him and letting him choose back.
Slowly, carefully, he lets his spark energy brush against yours, not a full contact, just a gentle meeting of fields.
His vents shudder. “You are unbearably reckless,” he murmurs.
You just offer one of your disarming smiles. “You’re not pulling away.”
“.…No.” he admits.
Starscream doesn’t pull his hands away.
He should.
Every instinct carved into him by rank, survival and pride says this is a mistake, a vulnerability that could be exploited, a softness that could be used against him.
But his claws remain where they are, one still hovering near the open panel where your spark shines, feeling the quiet warmth radiating from within.
There’s no teasing now. No smug little comments. You just watch him, optics steady, braced for him to decide what this means.
His voice is low when he finally speaks. “….You trust too easily.”
You shook your head slightly in response. “No. Just selectively.”
That lands.
Because you didn’t offer this to Megatron.
Or to Soundwave.
Or to anyone else in the endless, sharp edged hierarchy of the Decepticons.
Just him.
Starscream swallows, his vents feel like they're running too hot. “I am ambitious. I am volatile. I have made choices others would call….dishonorable.”
“I know.”
“You should not,” he insists, optics flickering. “Place your spark in the reach of someone like me.”
You smiles faintly.“I didn’t put it in reach of ‘someone like you.’” You sigh. “I put it in reach of you.”
For a long moment, he can’t respond. You’ve seen his spark, you can still see his spark.
You know he’s a warlord. The schemer. The survivor.
Yet, you still choose him.
Slowly, carefully, he lowers one claw and lets it rest lightly against the outer casing of your spark chamber, not touching the spark itself, just the protective housing.
A promise without words. That has your entire framework shuddering.
His voice drops almost to a whisper. “If you are going to insist on doing reckless things for my sake….then you should understand something in return.”
You tilt your head at his words as it seemed it was the most that you could manage given the pleasurable tremors now over taking over your body.
His optics meet yours, bright and unguarded in a way almost no one would ever live to see.
“If anyone attempts to harm you to get to me….”
A faint, dangerous edge slips into his tone.
“.…they will learn exactly why Megatron keeps me at his side.”
It was not bluster, nor ego that guided his words, it was a vow to you. Only to you.
Whether your expression softened from his promise or the soft press of his claw against your spark chamber, Starscream didn’t know. But there something warm flickering in your optics.
Your servos loosened their grip on him and slid up to his neck to softly run your thumbs over the line of his jaw.
“Good,” You manage to answer breathlessly. “Because I was planning on doing the same.”
That pulls a faint, breathy huff from him, not quite a laugh but close. “We are a tactical disaster.”
You hum in agreement.
Starscream meets your optics after a moment as if to ask one last time if this is what you want. But he only finds you looking back at him with a certain look in your eyes.
Like this isn’t terrifying at all. Like it’s inevitable.
His claw is still resting against the casing of your spark chamber.
He can feel the warmth. The dripping interface fluid running down his claw. The steady rhythm. How much brighter your spark is. How different it is to his own.
And you have offered it to him without a single demand in return.
His voice is barely more than a breath. “You are going to be the end of me.”
Your servos only continue to cup his face, as if encouraging him to continue. “Worth it.”
That fearless answer breaks the last of his resistance.
Slowly, so slowly it almost hurts, he shifts his claw inward.
Past the casing. Past the protective edge.
Until the faint energy field of his spark brushes directly against yours.
Contact.
The reaction is immediate.
A soft flare of light, brighter than before but steadier. Your sparks don’t clash, they sync, like two frequencies finding the same note.
Arching lights connecting two sparks, interface fluid making a mess on your bodies and the berth.
The moment your sparks moved to touch, everything had gone silent. Like the universe itself had stepped away and decided to give you privacy.
Starscream’s systems reacted first. A surge of energy that felt like being hit by lightning. Burning though everything in its path. A violent pulse through his entire frame.
His optics flashed bright red. The claw on your back curled instinctively.
“Ah-!” The sound escaped him before he could stop it.
Embarrassing. Uncontrolled.
He hated that. He hated that you heard it.
Starscream expected to hear some teasing remark from you but found that you were experiencing the same thing.
Your frame work shudders against him as he instinctively pulls you against him. Your helms bushed beside each other as the intensity began to overwhelm you both.
Your sparks weren’t just exchanging energy. They were exchanging pieces of themselves.
Memories.
Feelings.
Instincts.
The things you both hid.
The things you never said.
And for one impossible moment, Starscream understood everything that made up the entirety that was you.
And you understood him. Once again being hit with the spike of spark resonance. This time was different though.
You were both feeling each other's sparks at the same time. He could feel everything he was pouring into you and how you easily embraced it.
Not the version everyone saw.
Not the traitor.
Not the coward.
Not the schemer.
Him.
The mech who had spent his entire existence trying to prove he was worth something.
The mech who wanted to be chosen.
The mech who wanted someone to look at him and say: You are enough.
A new realization hit him harder than the resonance itself. Because the thought came so naturally.
So completely.
I love them.
Starscream could feel his entire processor try to reject the information but this time he wouldn’t allow his fears to override the truth.
His spark pulsed again and the truth remained.
His voice betrayed him before his pride could stop it. Barely a whisper. Almost nothing. “I think I’m in love.” Drool slid from his mouth as he whined the end of the sentence out.
Starscream’s vents hitch. His wings twitching. However for once, there’s no dramatic flailing, no outraged sputtering.
Just stunned silence as the sensation rolls through him, warmth, recognition, a feeling of rightness that terrifies him more than any battlefield ever has.
You moan softly, “You feel it too.” Not a question, a fact.
He swallows. “Yes.”
Your spark doesn’t try to overpower his. Doesn’t demand. It just….meets him. Equal. Steady. There.
For a mech who has spent his entire existence fighting to be seen as more than expendable, more than second best, more than a stepping stone….
It is the first time something has touched his core without trying to take from it.
His voice is rough when he speaks again, trying and failing at having any composure left. “No one-no one can….take you from me.”
His claws trembled slightly as he held onto you as if his very existence was at stake. Any threat you’d face in the future would have to rip apart to get to you.
For once he doesn’t feel like he’s falling. He feels like he’s finally found something solid enough to stand on.
It’s for one brief moment.…he does not want to conquer anything.
Neither of you close the panels right away.
You stay there in the dim light, sparks humming gently in quiet awareness of each other, not touching now, just….present.
For two Decepticons built in war and sharpened by survival, it’s the closest thing to peace either of you has felt in a very long time.
A soft click of metal on metal echoes in the room, stabilizing you as you settle more comfortably against the glow of his spark.
You let out the faintest, content little hum, the Cybertronian equivalent of a satisfied exhale.
Starscream nearly levitates out of his frame. “D‑do not….make anymore noises.” he stammered under his breath.
You tilt her head, optics half lidded, voice soft and warm in a way that absolutely does not help his situation.
“I’m recharging. You’re warm.”
His wings twitch so hard they rattle. “That is-that is not an invitation for commentary!”
You lightly rest your palm closer to his spark casing, feeling the rhythm there. Not pushing. Just, present. Safe.
Your voice drops to a murmur. “That went differently than I thought it would.”
His entire processor blue screens. “Different how?! Elaborate immediately, no, don’t elaborate! Stop observing things!”
You just smile faintly, eyes drifting shut for a moment. “Still so loud. You were careful though. You held back.”
That hits way too close to his emotional framework.
Vents flare with fake offense.
He tried to pull himself together, posture stiffening. “I did not ‘hold back.’ I remained perfectly calibrated the whole time!”
You only give the tiniest, sleep heavy hum in response.
“Mmh.” You sound so at ease, like this whole ordeal was the most natural thing in the galaxy to happen.
He covers his face with one clawed hand, optics blazing behind his fingers while he was one minor emotional stimulus away from attempting to file a formal complaint against his own feelings.
“This is my greatest tactical disaster,” he mutters.
You’re already halfway to recharge sleep as you whisper, “Mmh. Worth it.”
And Starscream lays there, one servos holding you close, overheating, wings twitching, realizing with mounting horror that….
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Sometimes I wish I was a cybertronian, says the human. I would be bigger, and stronger, and faster. I would have more senses, I would be less forgetful. You wouldn't have to carry me around.
Sometimes I wish I was a human, says the cybertronian. I would fit in tighter spaces, and be better at climbing, and I could smell all the smells and taste all the varieties of foods. I would see the world from a different view.
Maybe it's a good thing we're different, says the human. Maybe our differences make us stronger.
Maybe it's good that you're big and I'm small, so we can reach places the other can't. Maybe it's good that we have different senses, so we can teach each other new things about the world around us.
Maybe it's good that we found each other, says the cybertronian.
TL;DR: this post contains links to download the mainline comics in both the original IDW Transformers continuity and the 2019 'IDW2' reboot, as they are currently out of print and it is hard to consistently find complete downloads of them online. You can download individual issues or a full .zip file, from either a MEGA folder or via BitTorrent. Please share if anyone asks about where to get these!
This is an updated masterpost for both of my prior download posts for these comics, as 1) I have updated both folders quite a bit in the past few months to be more complete, and 2) I now have torrent versions if MEGA gives you trouble; I will be seeding these for however long I can, likely at least a few months, possibly indefinitely. (I have tested both and believe that the torrent is probably faster, ftr.)
In short: these are two sets of downloads which contain all the 'mainline' releases for the original and rebooted IDW Transformers comics continuities. I believe after much help from people on here that I have added everything I originally missed or did not correctly upload! I hope! God I hope!!!
IDW1 direct download | IDW1 torrent
IDW2 direct download | IDW2 torrent
For IDW1, some notes:
These are in .cbz/.cbr format. To read .cbz files, you need to download a comic viewer program that works on your device, there's tons. Best way to read comics digitally by far.
The way these are collected reflects the Humble Bundle they did of a collection of the entire continuity ahead of the IDW2 relaunch. What this means is that everything here is presented in its standard collected edition, as digital trade paperbacks, until the very end; when the HB came out, the last couple trades had not yet been released. These comics (e.g. Unicron, the very end of LL) are therefore individual issues.
I have also added in the Last Stand of the Wrecker deluxe edition extras and the Dark Cybertron deluxe edition extras, alongside the extras in the Drift: Spotlight director's cut edition. Because I love you all.
For IDW2:
Unlike IDW1, I do not have the trades for this, only the same individual issues in .cbr you can find in a couple places already. But if it is more convenient for you to download a single thing in one swoop, well. You can!! Saves you the clicking I did, lmao. And it never hurts to keep circulating the tapes, does it.
Over the years getting ahold of these comics has gotten more and more scattershot, and the main remaining direct downloads either don't have easy bulk download options or have them in the 'IDW Collection' format, which is very unhelpful IMO reading order wise, since it mixes the different series together. Most public torrents are now very inactive as well. I'm hoping this will make it a little easier to Just Download Them. I have been asked a few times if it is OK to share my downloads, and the answer is yes (do not be stupid and @ Hasbro or something), share links as much as you want! I have the bandwidth, it's no problem 👍
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
yo! been a fat min, but i decided to rebrand this blog into a full-time mech posting such as armored core 6 and transformers. ik, its such a content shift from when i did hogwarts legacy (ew) and VERY brief lies of p content, which is prolly what some of yall followed me for. but i was making this post to let yall know about this huge content change and youd most likely not be interested in that so no hard feelings if you decide to unfollow! glad to be acquainted with you guys and i wish the best for you!
Since Antonia has regained some strength after receiving the cure, she often asks you to spend time together to recall times past, times of beauty and carefreeness. One day, when Pinocchio is also at the Hotel, she asks the boy to play something on the piano for her.
You are still very confused about what you feel for him, that feeling of gratitude over time has turned into something solid, palpable around your heart. For this reason, you would prefer not to attend, too afraid of what emotions seeing him try his hand at something so human could trigger in you.
Yet when the boy nods without hesitation to Antonia's request, the latter asks you to stay and enjoy the show with her. After all, you owe her the roof over your head, so you cannot refuse.
Pinocchio approaches the piano, his long brown hair hides his cold face dotted with pale freckles and his blue eyes from your view, but you are sure you have read an unmistakable spark of tenderness in them as his heavy steel fingers gently brush the precious keys.
Too late you realize you are holding your breath as the boy begins to play. Your heart reacts much more quickly than your brain. What you feel troubles you deeply. That delicate melody, so painfully close to what you feel for him, seems to speak of something so intimate and visceral as to steal a beat from your heart.
You feel your cheeks flush, your thoughts clouded by the pounding that resounds in your chest. It seems impossible to you what you feel, how that melancholic and nostalgic melody has managed to capture all the loneliness, the regret, but also all those moments when you really felt close to him.
Even if quiet, even if distant, his presence has been a constant for you since you set foot in the Hotel. Something that has meant much more than you had anticipated, something that clearly has had an impact on Pinocchio as well.
Then his eyes meet yours over the piano keys, an instant long a blink of an eye, nothing else, but what you can read in them paralyzes you. In the boy's blue irises there is an unmistakable feeling, painful, melancholic perhaps, but a feeling for you.
Suddenly you realize that you feel an irrepressible tenderness for him, something you have never felt before. It overflows from parts of your heart that you did not remember having.
The melody falls silent and Pinocchio stands up. His movements are much more fluid than you remember. As Antonia smiles with approval, you cannot move. You see him approach you, his slow steps echo on the polished marble, you would like to run away.
Your heart is beating so hard that it takes your breath away, so much so that you are afraid that he can feel it too. The boy stops in front of you, almost waiting. He is beautiful with a fragile and melancholic beauty. You would like to tell him many things, but you know you will not be able to utter a single word.
Then in the silence the watery blue irises lock onto yours, in silence, but charged with an almost desperate message, an unknown warmth.
His clear lips move slightly, in vain, not a breath, but an unspoken request, a desire. The mechanical fingers reach out to you as if to touch you.
His gaze seems unbearable to you, you feel vulnerable, discovered in the act of that genuine feeling. After everything you saw in Krat, you should hate him, but there is a bond between you, something painfully intimate and urgent. This thing scares you much more than you can confess.
Allowing those feelings to come to fruition would mean accepting a new and unpredictable reality.
"I... can't." you whisper breathlessly, your face burning and your vision blurred, pulling away from his touch to take refuge where no one else can witness the overflowing of your feelings.
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