Observe

Summary: Reader repeatedly insults Megatron, which he takes in stride unlike others. Until he doesn’t.

Warning/tags: SFW. Saved by the local cryptid. May Cheesits be with you. Swearing. Bare minimum. Lots of audacity.

Characters: Tfp Soundwave. Tfp Starscream. Tfp Megatron.

Pronouns: You. Your. Yours. You’re.

Extra: I remembered! HUZZAH! Here you be tagged, @colorwastaken

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

Things have gotten.. weird, since the incident with Airachnid. Better, but weird. In ways that the autobots will not be happy about. Speaking of autobots, you should keep in mind to ask about them when you get the opportunity to, that is if they actually answer you. The last several times you tried to ask about them the decepticons try to insult them or just straight up avoid the question. Both your back and butt are sore from sitting on cold and hard metal. The new blanket, while thicker and softer than the giant rag you had before, isn’t doing much in giving you any cushioning. Warmth, however, is something it excels at wonderfully. Judging by the dim lighting it’s most likely night time, which also explains the drop in temperature, so you’re staying in the little warm spot you’ve created on what you can only call a throne. Yes, you read that correctly, you’re on Megatron’s throne. Not the arm, either. No, he did not place you here. Originally you were on the floor, because of course you were, so you decided to climb up the second you got the chance in order to wordlessly say “fuck you”. Imagining his faceplate upon seeing you on his throne is the only thing keeping you from crawling into a maintenance vent and watching him search the entire nemesis. That can be done when he really pisses you off. Megatron had left you here under Soundwave’s supervision about two hours ago, and Soundwave has actually become rather pleasant company. You’re pretty sure it physically hurts him to have to respect your boundaries, but in a way that’s part of the fun. You still remember when he had first picked you up without warning and you scolded him on the spot, he was so tense you could hear his gears creaking. Megatron had tried to warn you to not do that again, which pissed you off, so of course you scolded him too. Seeing his faceplate show his displeasure made the moment so sweet. Oh, and yes, Soundwave did leave before you climbed up onto the very uncomfortable throne. And he has not yet come back– —Sshhfff—

The doors to the command room opens, or at least you think it’s a command room, and when your brain registers silver your heart lightens, which you don’t particularly want to think about too much. Thankfully, that feeling gets ripped and crushed brutally when it’s actually Starscream who walks in, and unfortunately notices you. At first there’s a sneer when he sees you all curled up with only a blanket to protect you from the harsh cold inside the nemesis at this altitude, until it finally hits him where you’re currently seated. And oh goody, he’s walking towards you with a scowl and a scoff. “You, a fleshy insect, would dare to sit there? I should- Soundwave!”

Your brain hiccups upon hearing the declaration of Soundwave’s name, until you notice some movement in the dark and then- oop, yeah, those are definitely Soundwave’s lights. You guess he had entered the room behind Starscream, funny how he made his presence known the moment when Starscream tried to threaten you. Must’ve been a coincidence. “I- uh, didn’t see you there..” As Starscream resets his vocalizer, you can’t help but notice and enjoy that squeakiness in his tone. Maybe you should look a little further into that.. “I.. have brought the reports Megatron requested.” Reports?- Oh. There, in one of Starscream’s clawed servos, is a Datapad Record Holder. A cylindrical shaped object that opens at the sides to allow the memory box thingies of datapads to be slotted in. It looks a little different than the ones the autobots have, more pointy. You remember Ratchet telling you about ones that are specifically designed for storage purposes, and can hold several dozens of alien USB flash drives. The autobots don’t have anything like it, just a sad minor makeshift version that you’re sure Bulkhead has accidentally tripped over a few times.. If that thing survives this war, it deserves to be honored in a museum.

—Sshhfff—

Oh, looks like Starscream’s leaving- with one last glare your way. How many of those did he send your way while you’d been thinking of more important things? If it weren’t for his bioluminescent lights, Soundwave would be entirely invisible within the darkness provided by the dim lighting. His purple paint job might as well be merging with the purple walls. Yet, despite all that, you’re absolutely sure you can see his frame stiffen when you say the words “Thank you.” It’s not the first time you’ve dared to utter those words to him, you’ve said it nearly every time he gave you something you could eat. Your audacity might be the leading cause to your demise, but your manners are a close second in this place. Thankfully, Soundwave doesn’t seem interested in you enough to throw off this throne you’ve seized. Then again, he never really shows much of anything unless it’s in response to something Megatron did. Simp.

Speaking of, Megatron has most likely been alerted to your current position by the lurking communications officer. That kind of bums you out a bit, as your little stunt won’t be much of a surprise when that shark-faced tyrant finally comes back. Doesn’t really feel worth the risk anymore, but this warm spot you’ve made with your body heat is just barely grasping at your resolve to keep you in place. Get off the throne.. Don’t get off the throne…. Do, don’t…… Go back to the floor- nope, no, it’s fucking freezing down there, nevermind! Sometimes all it takes is re-wording your thoughts!

And besides, it was a miracle climbing up here was a success in this poor lighting, climbing back down is just asking for trouble.

—Sshhfff—

Oop- speaking of trouble. You can’t stop that smirk from appearing on your lips even if you tried, fueled by smug mischief and a non-verbal “fuck you” to the newly appeared tyrant in the room. Even as he towers over you, crimson eyes piercing through the darkness to stare you down, you just grin. “What? Not used to sharing?” You don’t know where the confidence is coming from, all you know is that you’re running with it by adding insult to insult. Maybe today is the day you die? It feels a bit overdue with how long you’ve survived this damn spaceship. “More surprised a tiny, frail body such as yours has managed to even get you there.” Oh he’s adding insults to insults too- okay, damn, get your thoughts together, you’re not going down without a fight! Fuck, what should you target?? You’ve already targeted his face yesterday, you can’t wear that down too quickly! Uhh.. maybe compare his spiky frame to a porcupine? Yeah, that sounds- why is he getting closer. He’s reaching his servo to you, and you give him a glare of suspicion in response, but you don’t retaliate. You should, you absolutely should, but you don’t feel the need to? At least kick him! …. But it’s so fucking cold- any break in the cacoon that is your blanket will send cold air into the sanctuary of warmth within. As his servo wraps around you, all too gentle in the ways you would only tease him about when away from the prying audio receptors of the decepticons, you turn your attention away from him with a huff. He’s left you here for two hours! He deserves some silent treatment…. It’s toxic, you know that, but your excuse is the fact you’re dealing with a tyrant older than the entire human race. He can handle it. Despite the movement of being picked up, you’re still perfectly wrapped up in the blanket. A small part of your brain, that you’re desperately trying to ignore, suggests that it might have been intentional. To your annoyance he doesn’t say anything, he just walks out of the room with you in his servo. You get a glance of Soundwave in the dark before the doors slide shut with their usually hissing sound.

o—0o0—o

The clawed digits of his servos are loosely curled around you, most not even touching you as you continue to sit within his palm. It’s only been a couple minutes since you two entered the hallway and you’re already having the urge to just lay down. It’s not because you feel safe or comfortable, it’s because he’s redirected some of his internal heat towards his servo! This porcupine lookin’ motherfucker! Doing something like that while looking like he wants to be anywhere else but here! You’ve warmed up enough to not be completely cocooned anymore, but that fact is bitter. The long time enemy of the autobots, your friends, and an active threat to the earth, is being considerate to you. Ever since the incident you’ve only been going hungry, not starving, and no more live animals have been brought to you. The memory of Cheesits still haunts you. You have a mattress and some privacy now, which is below the bare fucking minimum, but it’s more than one expects from Megatron. There’s an ulterior motive here, there must be. Ratchet would kill you if you were dumb enough to believe Megatron is being nice or decent.

“Are you done being petty? Your pathetic attempts at insulting me have proved to be amusing.” A laugh, a genuine one, escapes you and is quickly shoved down while accompanied by a few coughs in a poor attempt to disguise your slip. You don’t dare to look up at him, it’s hard enough to keep a straight face while looking at the path ahead. A comeback appears in your mind before slipping away the second you open your mouth, so you opt to continue your silent treatment. You keep your attention towards wherever he’s taking you, and the silence begins to grow thicker. But your resolve is strong! Just keep silent, ignore him, pretend he’s not there– WOAH! Is he trying to kill you?! Megatron has just abruptly stopped to turn around, almost sending you flying off his servo. Your hands are holding onto two of his digits, which is the only reason you didn’t go splat on the floor, and the warmth previously radiating from the metal beneath you feels a little colder. The anxiety churns in your guts as he picks up his pace, and you send a glare his way. Unfortunately, it seems it’s his turn to ignore you. Maybe you should keep in mind that Megatron is not the most sane person you’ve met..

_____________________

And CUT!

I think I did well on this one, it did take me a while because I totally did forget tumblr exists.. Which will probably happen rather frequently.. Oh well!

Summary: Reader is captured by the Decepticons after a series of untold unfortunate events, and face poor living conditions until they finally have enough, but only after facing the cruel servos of Airachnid.

Warning/tags: Swearing. Airachnid. Attempted murder. Torture(No blood).

Characters: Tfp Megatron. Tfp Airachnid.

Pronouns: You. Your. Yours. You’re.

Extra: I have no idea where I’m taking this story lol, everything is being made up on the spot. P.S., there is not a missing chapter, I did not write the kidnapping.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

Two weeks. Two weeks. That’s how long you’ve been in this little cell. From the little chatter you’ve heard from behind the doors of the room your cage resides in, the Decepticons have been laying low since your capture, which infuriates both you and a few others. The autobots are most likely infuriated by it, yes, but they aren’t the ones you're thinking of. No, it’s the ones who’ve been sneaking in a few visits to your cell. Starscream is the one whose made the most visits, just to rant at you about how insignificant you are, how Megatron’s processor must have short circuited after the spacebridge explosion, and how he should crush you to save his Lord Megatron from this undignified obsession of his. You’d ignore him if it weren’t for the fact he’s likely to spill useful information during these rants. Then, there’s Soundwave, who comes in for only a few moments to stare at you and then leave. You’ve theorized he’s taking photos or videos to show Megatron, or something along those lines, because it’s that or he’s trying to figure out ‘why you?’. And honestly, you’ve wondered the same thing from time to time. You don’t mind his visits though, sometimes he brings food you can actually eat, instead of the random assortments of organic stuff the vehicons bring. You’ll never forget that rat, rest in peace Cheesits, even though it tried to eat your finger. Last but not least, Airachnid. She’s only visited a few times but each one was equally unpleasant. Actually, no, her current visit might just be the most unpleasant one, as she’s actively trying to injure you instead of just throwing insults and threats.

You duck and stumble as sharp digits attempt to grab you, a frustrated groan leaving the metal spider lady as you skitter back onto your feet and away from any part of her. When she had tried to stab you with one of her legs she accidentally hit the wall of your cell, creating an opening big enough for you to squeeze through. You just have to make it to it before you’re skewered. Oh, and you’re probably wondering by now, ‘Where is Megatron?’.... You have no fucking clue. That bucket headed tyrant hasn’t shown his faceplate since your capture, and at this point you’re thinking that he’s playing some sort of game, wanting you to beg for his company or at the very least ask about him. That sounds like something he’d do. Despite being barely fed the past two weeks, you somehow make a near olympic level dash and dive through the hole. Okay maybe it wasn’t olympic level, but it felt cool. The landing, however, felt like shit as you nearly faceplant into the metal countertop. Your elbows ache along with your back as you fall into a less than graceful roll, almost falling over as you use the momentum to stumble upwards and onwards. This is going great! -–Crck-SCREEChh—

Okay maybe not.

You see your face reflected on a sharp, black, metal appendage belonging to none other than Airachnid. Above yours, the reflection of magenta optics comes into view, accompanied by the feeling of being watched despite the lack of pupils. Oh, this is going to hurt.

o—0o0—o

You try to gasp air into your lungs but the most you can manage are uneven and shallow breaths as a cruel servo pushes you down against the countertop. “I must admit, your attempts to escape me were…. pathetic, to say the least.” As pain continues to build, so does your anger at the situation you’re in. The logical side of your brain urges you to keep quiet, to be compliant and wait for an opportunity to escape.. but right now self-preservation can go fuck itself. You push against the metal beneath you to allow even a sliver of more space to fill your lungs. “Maybe.. if you had even worse aim, you’d be.. a little more…. impressed-” Your sentence is broken between struggling gasps of air, until you're suddenly pressed even harder against the ungiving metal. You’d groan if it weren’t for the fact you couldn’t breathe anymore. “I didn’t give you permission to speak, human.”

You can’t see her, but you can sure as hell hear her sadistic smile. The pain is growing worse by the seconds, your vision is beginning to get blurry. As you start to believe she’s going to kill you like this, the pressure eases enough for your starved lungs to gulp in some air. Not enough to get rid of the dizziness, but enough to keep you from passing out or worse. You kick at the servo, heels striking metal in futile attempts to do something, because like hell are you going to do nothing. You hear her chuckle, and turn your head to try and glare at her, only for one of her digits to be in the way. “It’s pitiful how low Megatron must be if he truly decided to keep a pet human, let alone one as weak as you. Honestly, you’d expect someone of his power and status to get something that matches him. Maybe a king?” She waits for a reply, any retort you can come up with, but when she’s met with silence she lifts her digit. Her optics meet your defiant eyes, and she’s almost amused, yet not enough it seems as she lowers the point of her digits towards your head. “No matter, he’ll thank me once he’s over it. Maybe even promote me to second in command~” Her claw raises slowly, drawing the moment out to savour the growing dread festering in your gut, before it finally stabs downwar– —Ffsshh—

The hissing sound of the doors openings stops her attack, the reflective metal only centimetres away from you. The visitor doesn’t wait for the doors to open on their own, as the second the gap grows big enough, a large servo grabs it and forcefully shoves it open. The metal creaks loudly as it gives under the strength of the offending servo, and Airachnid stills when crimson optics stare her down. “L-Lord Megatr–gck!” Airachnid doesn’t get the chance to snake her way out of the situation as he grabs her by the neck, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Air finally flows freely back into your lungs, only for every strained breath to hurt and tremble. You’re just about done with pain today. Although, hearing the loud and hard clank makes it just a tiny bit more bearable. Glancing over your shoulder, you see that Megatron had thrown the spider out into the hallway, hard enough to make getting up a struggle.

o—0o0—o

It’s been a few minutes, and neither of you have said anything. You haven’t even looked at him. Your breathing has calmed down but the pain has dulled only a little, and while you're not dizzy anymore you’re too lightheaded to risk standing up. You want to go home, but you can’t, and that pisses you off. You want to stay silent, to ignore his very existence, but as time ticks by it begins to get harder to keep the words in. You keep your eyes firmly on the countertop you’re sitting on, the words dancing in your mind, until they finally spill out with venom. “Is this what you wanted?”

Your question is met with silence, and your anger starts to turn cold as you turn your head to look over your shoulder at him. You give him nothing but fury through your gaze, which he holds firmly with his own optics. He’s angry too, but not as much as you, and not at you either. Your question is answered without words, but that doesn’t satisfy you. “Speak.”

You aren’t asking, you’re giving him an order, and you don’t shy away from that fact. Sharp dentas peek between dermas as a small but clearly pleased smile appears on his faceplate. He’s amused by this, and you half expect him to dismiss you, but instead he indulges you.

“You would be so bold as to command me while in your weakened state?”

His smirk turns into something more cocky as he approaches you. Even as he looms over you, you continue to hold eye contact with no sign of backing down, hell you haven’t even considered the idea. You’re mad, and you have every right to be. “Right now I do not give a damn what titles you hold, Megatron. I am in pain that you allowed to be inflicted on me, you have practically starved me the entire time I’ve been here, and locked me up with the filth the vehicons bring and dare to call ‘food’.” More anger pools into your words as you gesture towards the cage you previously resided in, which only holds a well loved blanket and the junk the vehicons refused to take out. “The only reason I have not succumbed to hypothermia is because of that sorry excuse of a blanket. The only reason I can function is because of the little water and food Soundwave has brought me, as I believe he’s the only one who’s bothered to put even a tiny bit of research into what humans need.”

You should stop, you really should, he’s not smiling anymore. “You have made it clear by the treatment I have been given that I am inferior to any cybertronian, that I am not an individual or even an animal. If that is the point you wished to make by ripping me away from my home, then fuck you. You can go to hell.”

With those last words you take a shaky breath, and notice the cold damp feeling on your face. In silent panic you break eye contact as you dry away the tears with your sleeve, mentally cursing yourself for not noticing. You were doing so well, but now you just feel small and weak. You’ve pushed your luck, you’ve crossed lines no one has dared to cross and lived. Will you join those fools now? You hear a faint, soft vent, before you’re suddenly picked up. You flinch both because of your aching body and the expectation of pain, but his sharp digits keep their distance from your skin as you are settled in the palm of his servo. The exhaustion from being emotionally drained combats the prickling discomfort of anxiety as he carries you out of the room. “You humans are primitive and needy.. If you require something then you need only ask, and you will have it.”

You stare up at him but he doesn’t look back, his optics locked on the path ahead. Your mind struggles to make sense of this, of him, but your attempts only reward you with a headache. With a huff you resign, and lean against his digits to try and get comfortable.

“Oh please, like I’d give you the pleasure of asking about you. It’d go straight to your ego.”

You barely register his amused grin as you close your eyes. You really shouldn’t relax this much with him, and you would care about that fact if it weren’t for the rivalling fact that he can go choke on a rock.

_____________________

And CUT!

I actually didn’t post the first draft with this one, in fact the first draft went almost entirely differently and did not include Airachnid. But anyways, I hope this part is well received!

Summary: The US government approved the creation of mechs to combat decepticons, and you’re the pilot of the first proto-type. Your first task is a test drive.

Warning/tags: Violence, No mercy, No discrimination between Vehicons and higher ranked Decepticons. Cybetronians are not viewed as people by reader in this fic. Severe injuries, death, death up to interpretation?

Characters: Tfp Breakdown. Tfp Knockout. Tfp Starscream. Tfp Optimus Prime.

Type of Reader: Doom Slayer.

Mech: High defense, slow, varying artillery allowing long + mid + close combat. Use of alien technology allows lighter but denser armour, including but not limited to force fields hidden beneath armour plating made of an incomplete mixture of cybertronian and earth metals. The pilot's nest is located within the stomach, which is densely armoured and designed to rotate to keep the pilot stabilized. The prototype is near 14 metres(45 feet).

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours, You’re.

Extra: I listened to Doom Slayer soundtracks while writing this to try and get the right feel, I recommend listening to a playlist while reading.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

“Eta ten minutes. Activate systems, prepare for release.”

The hiss of steam, gears groaning to life and engines whirring. Systems come to life as a ruckus of people yelling commands and reports surround the prototype. The specialized Antonov that carries you to your destination trembles as it begins its descent.

“The autobots have been ambushed in a decepticon controlled energon mine. Your mission; Wipe out the decepticons, ignore the autobots. Once complete, you will go to the given coordinates for extraction without delay.”

The plane shutters once more before the sound of heavy metal clasps are released, and you hear the deck captain shout the estimated time of arrival once again. Two minutes. Two minutes before you’re released into your first mission.

Your blood starts to pump faster as the more complex systems finally kick into life, soft lights within your nest activate but your eyes are locked onto the screens ahead of you. Your whole body is encased in a protective suit that monitors both your movements and vital signs.

Eta twenty seconds.

The fuel pumps hooked into the prototype release with a hiss, the team of workers around you start to move away, either hooking their vests onto the wall of the plane or holding onto something.

Eta ten seconds.

9.

8.

7.

6.

Your systems begin to reboot.

5.

4.

3.

2.

The floor beneath you splits open and you go into freefall, the active battlefield below you is rapidly approaching.

You land heavily on your feet, a cloud of dust covering the frame of the prototype. Steam hisses out between dense plates.

Reboot complete, all systems active. Ready for combat.

Standing upright, you move towards the nearest decepticon, a vehicon. Your steps are heavy and shake the ground beneath you, the battle momentarily paused as both sides contemplate your arrival.

Without a second's hesitation you grab the helm of the vehicon and plunge the other into its chestplate, crushing the spark while tearing its head off to ensure termination. As you free your hand, the whole arm begins to move, transforming into something akin to a railgun. You move forwards as you fire off shots, the few you hit directly are blown to pieces while others are damaged to varying degrees.

You feel the prototype tremble faintly as it's hit with blaster shots, which only barely slows you down as you continue your approach. A heavy duty vehicle approaches you from the side and your torso twists, allowing you to continue moving towards the main group while firing at the approaching decepticon. You don’t waste the heavy shells, instead you transform your current weapon to a machine gun as you turn. Bullets whizz in rapid succession, forcing the enemy to swerve sharply. Its weight causes it to lose balance and tilt, but it transforms and uses the momentum to lunge towards you. You stop all advances to brace as you continue fire, and to find you didn’t have to brace at all. You barely move upon impact, and use your free hand to grab onto the blue decepticon as you fire bullets into its side.

You manage to cause severe damage before your weapon is shoved to the side by it, and a red light comes to life within your nest as your systems detect the approach of a missile. You keep hold of the decepticon even as it attempts to break your armour with brute force, then it tries to escape your grasp once it spots the approaching missile. As it makes contact, warnings pop up on the screens.

Warning: Left pauldron at 85%. Left Rerebrace at 89%. Helm at 91%. All systems are functional.

The blue decepticon’s right servo was nearly blown off from the blast, its forearm in a sad state.

Its attempts at escape have been severely weakened, its undamaged servo trying to pry away your grip as you move the machine gun to its spark, the weapon beginning to spin to life.

The screeching sound of a saw makes it into your nest, and alarms quickly follow. Something has made it past the outer armour and is attacking one of the force fields that protects the layered shell of the nest. Sensors show another decepticon, and you turn the upper half of the prototype 180 degrees, dragging the injured decepticon with you to throw it at your attacker. With heavy steps, you’re soon fully facing the two decepticons in front of you, as you continue to be pelted with blaster shots from the surrounding vehicons. The red decepticon manages to escape from under the blue one, but it's too late. Bullets fire from your machine gun and directly at the torso of the sadistic doctor, some making it through its armour. You turn to continue advancing towards the main group, tearing apart any that dare come close to you. You switch between weapons and the moment you’re halfway out of ammo, you cease all movements. Steam erupts from between plates, the arms and body of the prototype hitch and stutter before hunching. All systems go offline, and you’re sent into stiff darkness. The air is tense as shots are halted, soon enough a group of vehicons are sent to investigate. The autobots attempt to assist you, firing at the approaching group which encourages more to advance forwards. Fire resumes as the fight between autobots and decepticons resume.

A few vehicons make it to your location, scanning the prototype for any signs of activity. Aside from yourself, everything is silent. Words are shared between them, before the sound of a fighter jet is heard and something lands in front of you. The vibrations caused by its weight hitting the ground are faintly felt by you, and its voice if barely heard through the several layers of metal between you and it, too muffled to understand anything. Not that you care, you’re not here for information.

All systems online.

Lights spring to life, the screens coming back on to reveal the slim face of the decepticon’s leader second in command. You move to grab onto it, but it's faster than you are as it moves away. You’re quickly pelted once again with blaster shots, which shake the frame of the prototype slightly more at this range. As you take a step, the high ranking decepticon fires a missile before retreating into the air. The blast causes the prototype to tilt backwards, you’re off balance. The plates on your back shift to reveal rockets that ignite with a burst, pushing you forwards and back into a stable position. Despite its short use, the prototype’s energy levels were depleted by 25%, currently leaving you at 65%. You switch off the forcefields to conserve energy before beginning your assault on the nearby vehicons, limiting yourself to melee when possible.

Mission: 56% complete.

The decepticons begin to move back, some straight up fleeing as they fully comprehend the situation. You’re not an autobot, you’re not here to help anyone, you’re here to massacre. Your backplates shift, missiles moving out from between gaps as your targeting systems activate.

Targets sighted, locking on.

The rockets of the missile begin to activate as you tilt forwards. Targets locked.

The missiles shoot upwards into the sky, tailing the retreating decepticons. As your backplates close back up, everything above the stomach of the prototype begins to transform, the arm becoming a large barrel crackling with energy. A few distant booms are heard as the plasma cannon charges up.

40%

The decepticons that remain begin to seek cover or retreat upon sensing the impending attack.

80%

The autobot leader calls out to you, ordering you to stop.

100%

The cannon fires with a reverberating sound, blasting through the boulders that had promised shelter for the decepticons. As the upper body of the prototype turns, the line of plasma makes contact with some of the fleeing decepticons.

Warning: Energy levels critical.

The cannon powers down, the metal red with heat. Steam shoots out as cooling systems kick in, and you’re still as temperature lowers to safer levels.

Mission: 88% complete.

With energy levels at 16% and ammo low, you’re forced to proceed to the extraction point. The prototype transforms into its previous frame before beginning the trek to the coordinates provided by your team captain.

The autobots do not make any attempts to stop you.

_____________________

And CUT!

I know I’m not very good at giving attention to characters when there are multiple supposed to be present, and I’m aiming to work on it. However, posting will get slower while I get used to writing multiple characters.

EDIT: I accidentally posted this a day early, and I can't be bothered to fix it. Happy feasting to whoever finds and reads this.

Summary: Reader has been practicing their aim, and finally convinced Optimus to let them assist in the next battle with their dragon.

Warning/tags: SFW. Active battlefield. Both autobots and decepticons, including reader and dragon are injured. Injuries aren’t severe.(Maybe for the decepticons.)

Characters: Vehicons, Breakdown, Bulkhead, Optimus and Ratchet are mentioned to be there, but it’s mostly centered around reader and dragon. All Tfp.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours, You’re. Dragon: They, Their, Theirs, They’re.

Extra: I forgot about tumblr so I didn’t have anything to post, so I just made something easy on the spot. I plan on making a part 3 to Can We Pretend It Never Happened, since someone asked lol. Also, Kinsoul is not a name, it just means platonic soulmate. I couldn’t find a name for it that felt right, so I just made one :)

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

Earth has several megafauna, with several more having gone extinct, but one specific species that survived the homo sapiens are; Dragons.

You’re a civilian, just your normal average civilian aside from the fact you’re atop a scaly beast larger than your house. Having been raised together your bond is unbreakable, you’ve been through countless hardships and emerged victorious side by side. There’s nothing that can tear you away from each other, not even Decepticons.

Flames rage towards the skies, reaching for the stars as both life and death are consumed in its wake. Metal creaks at the heat licking up armour, slipping between cracks and crevices to scorch any weakness. Jaws part as light grows behind pointy teeth, the muscles within their neck tensing as fire jets out mercilessly, melting the outer armour of a vehicons helm.

Leather creaks, straps and chains whip in the winds, gloved hands holding onto sturdy handles. Thick clothing protects your body from the nipping cold of flight, the mask adorning your face allowing you to both see and breathe in the high winds. Looking over the side, you’re met with the sight of an active battlefield, the fires and blaster fire are the only things lighting your enemies for you.

Even so, you’ll have to rely on your dragon, your Kinsoul, to see those you can’t. But control of flight and attack aren’t largely your responsibility, your job is to keep an eye on blind spots. Of course that doesn’t mean you can’t contribute to the damage dealt, you made homemade bombs after meeting the autobots for a reason.

You check behind you for any decepticons tailing you before grabbing a smoke bomb, and upon hearing you ignite it your dragon turns to glide above the decepticons. You throw the bomb and turn to look back once your dragon has moved far enough away, and see that you managed to land the bomb right between plating of one Breakdown, the mech currently having trouble focusing on Bulkhead while smoke keeps blocking his line of sight.

You cheer for your own little victory, but that’s short lived when shots whiz past you. Your dragon climbs into the air, their body twisting as gravity flips along with your bodies, before you’re facing the rapidly approaching ground. You don’t fret over it, as soon enough they pull up, their scaled chest several meters away from scorched earth as they crash into a vehicon. Claws and teeth tearing metal as powerful wings lift all three of you, before releasing the mech and sending them into another vehicon. Talons meet the ground and you shout in warning to your dragon as another vehicon approaches from the back, a second from the side. Your dragon turns sharply, their tail knocking the second vehicon off balance as a torrent of fire envelops the first. You grab a bomb only for the second vehicon to be shot down by Optimus before you could ignite it, leaving you to huff before being dragged back into the fray.

o—-0o0—-o

The battle has left both you, your dragon and the autobots in a state of exhaustion, but it has ended in near overwhelming victory despite the odds. Now, you all rest at the base, Ratchet tending to the wounds of the others while you tend to yours and your dragon, who has earned several treats and affections. You only received a couple bruises and scrapes after falling off the saddle when a blaster shot damaged it, and your dragon was in a similar state with bruises and mild burns. You can’t help but consider yourself lucky, getting out practically unscathed in comparison to the bots, and you start to dread the if’s of your dragon being shot down. The one who’s been with you since you were a baby, leaving for an eternity-

Something warm nudges your side, so gentle it almost tickles, and a huff of warm air blows away the cold dread clawing at you. They’re alive here and now, that’s what matters. Large, intelligent eyes meet yours and your heart warms, you know they know, you know they understand without words, they know you.

You wrap your arms around their muzzle in a hug, resting your head on theirs, and just soaking in the fact they’re here, with you. Your Kinsoul.

_____________________

And CUT!

Summary: Jazz goes for a ride through Detroit at night to try and learn the rules in a less crowded way, turns into a relaxing ride with music and discoveries.

Warning/tags: SFW.

Characters: Tfa Jazz.

Type of Reader: Not a party person, more of a librarian. (This doesn’t say much and I don’t think it showed much either.)

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours, You’re.

Extra: Inspired by that one Optimus fic where cybertronians can see our markings/patterns along with the fact we glow just a tiny bit. I think it was a bayverse one, it’s somewhere on tumblr. Also I tried to learn how he speaks, but it was like trying to put a sticker on a wet rock, I decided to quit while I was ahead :’)

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

“I’m not really the most picky when it comes to music, although I still have preferences of course.”

You’re currently sitting in the drivers-side passenger seat within Jazz’s vehicle mode as he drives through the mostly empty streets of Detroit, the street lights being the only thing to light the way ahead aside from his street lights.

“What kind of preferences? You like somethin’ smooth?”

His radio flicks to life, your ears met with soft static before the song Lovely Day by Bill Withers clicks on.

“Maybe somethin’ with a little more.. beat to it?”

The music plays for a few seconds before switching to Droppin Da Bomb by Lariss.

“Or how about somethin’ with less talkin’?”

Then came on Cantaloupe Island by Herbie Hancock. You’re tempted to just let him continue on for a bit, as the assortment of songs he’s playing are rather interesting. You can’t help but smile at his charming guess-work, and just listen to him and the melodies with content.

After about three more guesses, containing orchestra, rock and classical, his radio abruptly fizzles out. What happened? Looking outside you see nothing out of the ordinary, same with the rear view mirror, and as you're about to question him he beats you to it.

“Do all you humans glow? I know you’ve got those groovy patterns on your squishy platin’, but I only now noticed you’re glowin’ slightly.”

For a good moment you’re silent, more thrown off at him calling your skin squishy plating more than the fact he can see what you can’t.. Or at least you hope he’s talking about your skin.

“Uh.. skin, the squishy plating, as you put it, is called skin.”

The radio lets out a moment of static, and soon after the instrumental song Sleep Walk by Santo & Johnny starts to play.

“Skin, huh? Sick. You got a name for those fancy patterns on it?”

Your smile returns with a giggle that slips into your sentence.

“No, not that I know of. It might have some hard-to-pronounce scientific name, though.”

Your bit of laughter seems to have spread to his processor, as you hear the faintest of chuckles as his vehicle mode shakes a bit. Then, a comfortable silence falls like a silk veil, and you look out the side window and up at the stars as the music continues to play.

It’s peaceful, nice, and calming. Joining him on his practice drive through Detroit was most definitely not a choice you regret, hell maybe you’ll join him in future drives if he decides to stay on earth a little longer.

As the song comes to an end, the name of another pops into your head and you straighten so fast you almost make yourself dizzy as you look towards his radio.

“Hey, have you ever heard the song Play That Funky Music?”

_____________________

And CUT!

Summary: Magic is very real, and the decepticons are about to find that out when they kidnap Reader.

Warning/tags: SFW. Active battle, mention of blood(No blood is spilt).

Characters: Tfp Megatron. Tfp Soundwave. Tfp Starscream. Tfp Arcee. Tfp Bumblebee. Tfp Ratchet. Tfp Bulkhead. Tfp Optimus.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours, You’re.

Extra: A Weaver is a type of magic I made up, but altered to something less fantastical for this fic. Instead of weaving strings of magic like the original, Reader weaves words of magic, like a language of near infinite spells. No words are said specifically so you can imagine whatever kind of language.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

You’re stuck in some kind of alien jar-tube thing, with a handle on the top. The glass surrounding you is thick, too thick for you to force your way out, even throwing yourself and your cage off the side would hurt you more than your cell. Your keeper, Soundwave, would most likely catch you before you hit the floor anyways. His visor is locked onto the screens in front of him, and yet you have the nagging feeling of being watched.

Running out of options, you start to resign to your last one. You slide down to the floor of your cage and cradle your knees to yourself, your arms hiding your moving lips as you whisper words of the world. You don’t command the universe the way weavers who project their voice do, instead you speak to fabrics of reality. Weaving suggestions and questions instead of forcing fiction into reality.

And the world listens.

The screens fizzle with static, and alarms flare to life as Soundwave fights with the computer in an attempt at figuring out the source of the problem. As seconds tick by, more words are woven into sentences, and the screens fade away as sparks erupt from the console. Shouts and pedes hitting the metal floor are heard beyond the door to the room you and your captor reside in, and Soundwave storms past you.

For a second you believe that he’ll leave you there in the dark, only for a metal tentacle to snake through the air and grapple onto the handle above. Being yoinked into motion cuts off your spellwork, and you keep quiet as you two leave into the hallway.

Chaos, alarms blaring as vehicons run to and from, trying to fix what’s broken and find the source. Soundwave carries you past them, appearing unfazed if it weren’t for his hurried steps. You feel as though the world is holding its breath, waiting for your gentle whispers to sing across its winds once again. You try to string together the words in your mind, only for the blaring chaos and being jostled to throw it all away. The sudden stop in motion almost tosses you forwards, only to be thrown back against the glass when it abruptly returns. Soundwave had stopped to open a door, a door that leads to the control room. Or the throne room, it’s hard to tell. But what’s more important is the chaos inside, Megatron barking commands at vehicons and decepticons alike, his orders heard clearly over the alarms. It reminds you of certain weavers, the ones who care less about the freedom of the world and think it is their right to twist it to their benefit.

Fueled by ire, you begin to whisper once more, weaving on instinct rather than thought. The moment Soundwaves pede moves and touches the ground once again, it gives out as his knee joint creaks and bends under his weight. The tentacle holding onto your cage malfunctions, releasing you into the air only to go crashing down. The glass hits metal at just the right angle and speed, almost completely shattering on impact. Getting up without so much as a scratch, you grab a piece of broken glass without consideration, and run before looking ahead of you.

Soundwave’s sudden fall and injuries catches Megatron’s attention, which leads to his optics landing on you. With another bark of orders, Starscream’s pedes come into view before his claws are around you, and he lifts you up with a sinister grin. You chuck the glass you had at his optic, and it lands just as he shutters them, causing the sharp piece to embed itself into the protective lens of his optic. With a screech he releases you in favour of cradling his aching injury, you hear Megatron begin to shout something at Starscream before gravity suddenly shifts as the ship rumbles with a muffled boom.

Your back slides gently across the metal floor instead of breaking your spine, your hands try to grab onto any crevice in the floor. After several seconds of failed attempts, you resign yourself to the fate the universe has chosen for you, deciding to trust its judgement now instead of weaving your own destiny.

Just as you’re about to slide off the side of the floor and down to the lower levels, a silver servo grabs you. It's sharp, but not as long as Starcream's, yet colder than his. Your eyes follow the metal arm up to a spiked pauldron, then to the crimson optics that look down on you with a cruel glare.

Screw destiny, instinct kicks in once more as you start to whisper. Instead of suggestions and questions, you whisper pleas to an inquisitive reality. Fear fuels your words instead of the fires of anger, you do not bother to hide your whispers from the tyrant who stares in eerie silence. Seeing that Megatron is silent amidst the chaos of the ship descending, Starscream continues the ritual of orders, commanding others while his lord untimely busies himself with you. Or so he thinks.

Megatron studies your whispered words, and shifts his attention when the sound of metal wailing emits from the Nemesis. Disaster increases with smoke erupting from malfunctioning systems, sparks threatening flame across consoles as even the cybertronians start to experience system failures. Turning his attention back to you, he narrows his optics before moving a digit over your intake, silencing you. The damage has been done, but none more emerge.

At this break in disasters, Megatron sneers, until he feels his own systems begin to fray. Electricity courses tortuously through him until it reaches the servo that contains you, causing a malfunction that forces your release. Gravity shifts once more as the Nemesis steadies itself in the air, allowing you to run across the floor.

You hear a yell of frustration behind you as Megatron attempts to reach for you, a clear intent to harm in his movements. His claws scrape across metal, his digits barely brushing against the fabric you wear. The sound of a broken alarm is heard amidst the earlier ones, before it fizzles out into static. But the moment of warning is enough, along with the distant sounds of blaster fire, to alert the decepticons of the presence of autobots.

Your mind is oblivious to the safety ahead, yet your heart swells as you feel yourself be spurred onwards by unseen souls. Your legs carry you past servos attempting to grab you, your arms shield you from the blast that nearly singes the hairs on your skin, and your body takes in air to keep you going.

Another blast shot from a vehicon sends you tumbling forwards, and as you attempt to get up you see one of Soundwave’s tentacles rush towards you, talons bared. Fear suffocates you, the sounds of chaos turning to ringing in your ears.

Boom.

A shot blasts the tentacle away before its claws could draw blood, and you gasp air back into your lungs as you look to see a blur of dark blue speed past you. The sound of an engine roaring as the small shape launches itself onto a vehicon, shifting to the form of a cybertronian. Each strike thrown with fierce focus, each movement leaving no room for mistakes as she fights with ironclad resolve.

You feel the faintest of vibrations before you see yellow, as bright as the sun, moving as silently as the moon. Gentle servos gingerly scoop your aching body up, using his own body as a shield to protect you from the blaster fire as he moves with deadly purpose. Each shot he returns is done with calculated precision, hitting decepticons and control panels alike.

The sight ignites words in you and you begin to weave once again, this time you whisper words of safety rather than ruin. Your words are silence to the sensors of metal giants, but to the universe they are heard. The shift in battle is subtle to those oblivious, but to the one who knows, it is as clear as hatred.

Seeing as shooting directly at them results in misses and more damage to his ship, Megatron abruptly grabs the arm of a nearby vehicon, forcing him to shoot at the damaged wall next to the bot that held you. An explosion erupts from ignited wires, shrapnel scrapes and embeds into yellow as the bot cradles you to his chestplate.

A name is exclaimed, barely heard over the increase in blaster fire, but you manage to catch it even though your lungs are restricted. Bumblebee. With a name and not enough air, you weave protection around it, stitching safety and health into its very roots until you run out of air. The sound of your coughing and gasping alerts the injured bot, large optics looking down at you with concern as he loosens his hold to allow you breath.

Something catches his attention, and a second later you’re moving. Being cradled doesn’t allow much vision, nor does the suddenly blinding light. The feeling of being both pulled apart and held together catches you more off guard than the light, and then comes the tingling sensation throughout your very being after being transported through space.

The deafening silence is cut by voices you don’t recognise, the ringing in your ears nearly muffle the words being said. You squirm despite the complaints of your exhausted body, and try to get a look at the new situation you’re in. Fear starts to claw its way into your heart and mind as you realise you might not be as safe as you thought, that weaving protection into Bumblebee’s very being might have been a mistake.

Those fears are short lived as Bumblebee moves his servo to allow you to see, and the first optics your eyes meet are those of someone surrounded by ghosts of grief, the lines on his faceplate reminding you of tears, and exhaustion covering him like a veil. His posture is defensive, optics looking at you with sharpness that threatens to draw blood, yet you don’t feel all that threatened. Instead you feel sorrow.

Averting your gaze elsewhere, you meet the optics of a large bot, wary accompanied by worry. He holds himself like a statue, immovable and powerful, a wall of defence and protection. He reminds you of gargoyles in the way that they are guardians. You feel more caution looking at him than with the other one, as you get the feeling this bot has a chance of harming you, accidentally or not, while the other one feels like he’s.. afraid.

The next one you see is tall, his gaze steeled and focused on you in the way that makes you want to shy away. But his posture is calm, and the longer you look at him the more you notice he’s similar to the first one. Yet, instead of being surrounded by grief and exhaustion, it feels more like it's held within him, like he’s keeping it caged inside his very being.

In the end, your eyes return to the first one, optics meeting yours with intensity that you can only describe as hostility. And it’s not empty, there’s reason that fuels it, and that fact keeps your eyes locked on his optics. Trying to see into his very soul to find the source of it. That’s until he breaks eye contact with a vent, mumbling something as he turns towards a panel and screens.

Maybe it’s worth sticking around for a while, if they let you.

_____________________

And CUT!

Tail Betrayal.

Summary: Prowl discovers the great and adorable flaw of short tailed humians.

Warning/tags: SFW. Swearing. Medieval torture. It’s all fun and games until you get hit in the face.

Characters: Tfa Prowl.

Pronouns: You. Your. Yours. You’re.

Extra:

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

You’re being petty, you know that.

….

You should just get it over with and forgive him.

….

He feels bad about it, really, he does. And he’s doing whatever he can to make it up to you.

….

….

If only he stopped staring at you, maybe then you can shift your focus from being upset to actually forgiving him—

“Your tail is wagging.”

Fuck him. Fuck everything. Fuck this. You’re hitting him in the face even though you know it will hurt you more than him.

Thankfully you have the brain cells available to pull your sleeve down and hit him with that instead of your hand, so no visits to the hospital. To your surprise, he doesn’t stop you or dodge, instead letting you hit his face with the end of his sleeve. The soft smack felt louder than it actually was.

Shit.

He slowly raises his servos and you know, you know, you shouldn’t have done that.

Turning around you try to make your escape, and for just a second you feel hope as you manage two steps away from him, until servos wrap around your torso and pull you back like you’re in some kind of horror movie.

The next second you’re trapped, metal arms surrounding you as servo’s assault your sides, making you squirm as a fit of giggles and laughter are forced out of you. You try to speak between gasps and laughter, pleading with him, but it seems he’s not going to be merciful—

Oh wait, he is. His servos slow to a halt, leaving you gasping for air. Once you’ve gathered some of your senses, you notice your tail repeatedly thunk-ing against something- oh, it’s him, it’s been hitting him in the side due to your current position. No wonder it feels sore, the traitorous thing, its very existence makes it harder for you to lie.

“Still upset at me?”

Looking up at him, you see him smiling. Where does he get the audacity?

“Yes. Just for.. different reasons now.”

You know your traitorous limb is still moving side-to-side, and you know he knows, but you still cross your arms and glare at him.

“I’m having a hard time believing that.”

….

You’re hitting him in his stupid smirking faceplate again.

_____________________

And CUT!

Summary: Bulkhead learns something new about human eyeballs.

Warning/tags: SFW. Stupid vs Stupid.

Characters: Tfp Bulkhead.

Pronouns: You. Your. Yours. You’re.

Extra: none.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

“Hey, look at this.”

“What?”

“This thing that I’m holding? Right here? In my left servo??”

“.... Bulkhead, it’s pitch black.”

“Uh, no it isn’t. It’s grey.”

“.. Bulkhead, what?”

You were going to explain to bulkhead that humans can’t see in the dark very well, especially not pitch black dark, but for some reason your brain decided to lag when he tried to correct you, sending your planned sentence out the window.

Why did the lights have to go out while you were with Bulkhead and not Ratchet? You’re more used to him than the others, or more specifically his bullshit. And vice versa. Bulkhead’s nice, sweet even, but damn does his type of stupid like to mess with yours in the most confusing of ways sometimes.

“Okay, uh…. Eyeballs, yes. Eyeballs. Human eyeballs.. don’t do well in darkness.”

It’s not as elegant as your original sentence, but it gets the job done damnit. Hopefully.

“Uhh…. right..”

You may not be able to see him right now, but you’re pretty sure you’re being judged, and it may have something to do with the fact you said eyeballs three times and you probably look like you’ve got a few screws loose as you stare at whatever might be in front of you.

In the next second the lights suddenly come back, effectively assaulting your eyes as you squint, but the pain is too sudden and you’re not stubborn enough in time to keep them open. 

But hey, at least you found out you're staring at his leg like you're a starving scraplet.

_____________________

And CUT!

When you wanna write for Perceptor, Blaster and Jazz but you fried your brain.

Summary: Reader gets asked a particular question during a game of truth or dare with the autobots and decepticons, they try to get away with not answering entirely truthfully, only to find out that they in fact didn’t get away with it.

Warning/tags: SFW. Mass displacement. Suggestive question, safe answers. Flustered reader. Megatron learning about the reader.

Characters: Tfe Megatron. Tfe Starscream. Tfe Soundwave. Tfe Swindle. Tfe Bumblebee. Tfe Breakdown. Tfe Arcee. Tfe Optimus Prime. Tfe Elita-1. Tfe Prowl. Tfe Wheeljack and Tfe Shockwave mentioned.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours, You’re.

Extra: None.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

You had heard that the bots and cons were playing a game of truth or dare for some kind of bonding exercise, most likely a plan concocted up by the prime. Wheeljack and Shockwave managed to weasel themselves out of it, their excuse being some project they were making breakthroughs with, their only problem was that there is no such project. You owed Shockwave a favour which he called in, so the lab is where you’ve been for the past few hours. Until you’re finally allowed to take a break.

As you walk through the base that used to belong to Ghost, you hear a commotion down a hallway you were about to walk past. Curiosity gets the better of you and you follow the noise to a large open door, the first mech’s you see are Breakdown and Bumblebee arguing about the rules of the game, then you notice Arcee and Soundwave have some sort of staredown. Optimus looks like he’s started to regret this little game while Starscream seems to be in the middle of crashing. What the hell happened?

Stepping closer to the door, you see Swindle with the biggest grin on his dermas, no doubt using this game to get as much stuff as he possibly can. Truth or dare is practically made for the guy. You don’t see Megatron, Prowl or Elita though, so you get closer until you’re in the doorway. Almost immediately you feel optics on you and you turn your head up to the side, seeing Megatron leaning on the wall. No wonder you didn’t see him until now. He looks to be in the best state out of all of them, annoyed definitely, but not about to start a fight. 

He gives you a nod in greeting, which you acknowledge with your own nod, before your presence is noticed by another mech, Swindle. “Oi! You weren’t invited, but since you’re here~ Truth or Dare?” All optics are on you now.

You’re certain Swindle is going to try and either get one of your possessions, or blackmail, which makes leaving your safest option. You seriously consider the option until another voice is heard, this one startling you as it belongs to none other than Prowl, who’s been leaning against the wall much like Megatron, just a little more well hidden. Spotting a bit of pink, you see Elita in the corner of the room next to Prowl, both looking ready to start throwing people. “Swindle, if you try any more of your little tricks, I will throw you into a cell myself.”

That just about caused an uproar as threats of all kinds are thrown around, and you cringe at the thought of being the cause of this, but the logical side of your brain quickly reassures you that this would’ve happened regardless of if you were here or not. But, you don’t want to leave them like this, so against your better judgement you speak up. “Truth!”

Surprisingly, Swindle hears you over the commotion and shoves Breakdown’s helm to shut him up, ducking to avoid a swing from said mech. “Truth, eh? Alright.. Let's see…. What’s something that turns a fleshy like you off or on?”

Okay, that’s not what you expected, at all. Starscream starts sputtering something about not wanting to know something like that, Megatron and a few others just groan in annoyance, Prowl moves to follow through with his earlier threat but Elita is there to physically stop him. You’re trying to think of something, deciding on giving Swindle two answers instead of one, but what those answers should be are proving to be more difficult to decide on. You have one for something that turns you off, but the one that turns you on is-

“Uh.. I, well..” You glance up at Megatron for a half a second, and quickly try to cover it up by glancing at a few other people. You have something in mind, but if you say it then you’re pretty sure connections are going to be made. “Being looked down on and being unnecessarily disrespected is a turn off, definitely.” Swindle is a little disappointed at that answer, he can’t exactly use that, but you cut him off before he could say anything. “A turn on, though, would be someone putting in the effort to learn and understand your body language, tells and behaviour.”

“Aw, that’s kinda cute.” At that your face heats up and you give Arcee a glare and a huff, the femme simply chuckles with a wink. Okay, you’re leaving. When you turn around to storm off you hear some other mechs laugh, and you wish for rust to appear in uncomfortable places. You return to your break, getting something to eat and drink before heading back to the lab. On the way there you get stopped by a mech you weren’t entirely hoping to see. “Ah, there you are, I have a question for you.” Megatron stood tall, his crimson optics looking at you with an intensity that threatens to make you squirm. He doesn’t wait for you to say anything as he continues. “Earlier, I felt as though you weren’t being entirely forthright.”

For a second you feel a bit of panic, and a little miffed that he had noticed, which begs the question of who else noticed. But then, to your surprise, you feel a wave of confidence. “You’re right, I didn’t say the first thing that came to mind. What turns me on more than an observant partner, is someone powerful willing to bend the knee to their weaker partner who holds their spark.”

The second you’re done talking you feel all that confidence vanish into thin air, but you’re stubborn enough to not back out now. The seconds of silence pass by agonizingly slow, and you’re quickly starting to reconsider being stubborn. What the hell were you thinking, saying something like that to Megatron?? Honestly, you wouldn’t blame him if he- he’s smirking. Why is he smirking? Oh god why is he smirking??

“Is that so?” Megatron practically purrs the words out as he moves to lower himself down onto a knee, and moves a servo close to you until a single digit of his gently touches your hand. He can feel your heartbeat going crazy, which amuses him to no end judging by the look on his faceplate.

“Honestly, Megatron, you’re worse than all the others combined sometimes..” You move your hand onto the tip of his digit, your eyes on the silver metal rather than his optics. You wanted to kick him so badly.

“Only sometimes?”

Okay, you’re kicking him. You huff and swiftly walk over to his pede, giving it a good kick. Not hard enough to hurt yourself of course, you’re not aiming to embarrass yourself even more. A gasp leaves you when you feel yourself suddenly scooped up into his servo, and this time you smack his servo with your hand, earning a good chuckle out of him. “Careful not to hurt yourself, Sweetheart.”

Oh, just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, he decides to use earth pet names. Is he trying to give you a heart attack? “Megatron! I swear-” You cut yourself off with a squeak when he suddenly starts to become.. Smaller? You’ve heard about this from Shockwave, mass shifting, was it? Mass displacement? Eh, same difference. And the least of your worries as right now he has a servo on your lower back and another on your thigh as he is currently kneeling right in front of you. Your hands rest on his pauldrons and you’re speechless as your heart melts.

“Ah, there it is..” Megatron smiles, a soft look in his usually sharp optics, which makes that warm feeling in your chest bloom even more.

This mech is going to be the death of you, and vice versa.

_____________________

And CUT!

I didn’t really go over this after I finished writing it, so I’m sorry if there are lines that don’t make much sense. I was kind of in a rush to get this done. This is supposed to be for tomorrow, but I'm posting it with Twisting Tails today, then taking at least three days to gather brain cells.

Chuckles and Threats.

Summary: Reader is a prehensile long tailed Humian(Human with a tail), and shows off to Wheeljack.

Warning/tags: SFW. Swearing.

Characters: Tfp Wheeljack.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours, You’re.

Extra: None.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

Right now you are standing in an almost perfectly horizontal position, your feet firmly planted on the palm of Wheeljack’s servo, tail wrapped tightly around his thumb, head turned to look at Wheeljack while your body faces the ground below. Wheeljack finds himself rather fascinated by this, seeing your use of it almost made him want a tail of his own. Almost. “Pretty neat trick, for a fleshy.” You scoff and roll your eyes. Bending your knees you allow your tail to slip just enough for you to move your upper half under the side of his servo, grabbing onto the back side of his middle digit. Humians are pretty good climbers, with more muscle density where it counts, along with the added balance and grip of a prehensile tail you find yourself on the other side of his servo in no time. “Could you not try to piss me off for five fucking minutes?”

Wheeljack was almost amazed at your abilities, maybe even impressed, but the wrecker wasn’t in any hurry to admit that. He chuckles, baring his dentas in a smirk. “Aw, I’m just teasin’.... Fleshy.”

For a second you were set on punching him, before you remember you’d probably break your hand if you do. So instead, you opt to suddenly crawl and climb up along his arm without warning. You feel him jolt a little, almost making you fall off if it weren’t for your tail giving you balance. With a hop and a leap, you sit smugly on the top of his helm, letting your tail fall onto his faceplate just to annoy him. “You should keep in mind that I know where you power down, Wheeljack.” As much as you wanted to throw an insult of a nickname at him, you instead choose to use his name in favour of not stepping down to his level. And judging by his little grumble, you’re pretty sure he got the message.

“Is that a threat?” Wheeljack wasn’t smirking anymore, but he knew he couldn’t be too upset about this, he was trying to get a reaction out of you after all. He only has himself to blame. Although, he could do without the tail trying to swat him in the optic. “Oh please, do find out.”

_____________________

And CUT! Start of the tail series! The name I decided on is a simple combination of Human and Simian. Much like Havian. Not much effort but it works. I did actually try to make a more scientific name, but I gave up.

Good Luck Feathers.

Summary: Reader is out flying, exploring the mass of cumulonimbus clouds they had the luck of spotting. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing they had the ‘luck’ of discovering.

Warning/tags: SFW. Falcon type Havian(Avian human) reader.

Characters: Tfp Laserbeak. Tfp Soundwave.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours, You’re.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

Sharp wings slicing clouds, tiny droplets gathering on your aviator mask as you move at speeds you wouldn’t be able to breathe at. Being a falcon type, you can naturally hold your breath longer than the average human if you had to, but thanks to your mask blocking the wind you didn’t need to. Yeah it was still hard to breathe, but it was better than not breathing at all.

The white and grey clouds were a beautiful sight, like a different world entirely. With the wind howling in your ear, you dive into the thick fog, the damp cold threatening to pierce the thick layers of your clothing. Something catches your attention, something that’s barely audible over the wind but getting louder, and fast. All you can see is cloud, and in the next second the cloud ahead of you grows dark quickly, then a deep purple as that sound is now louder than the wind.

Tucking everything and twisting your body to follow the side of the purple thing, you narrowly avoid crashing into whatever you have the misfortune of discovering. Leveling out, you try to take a closer look but the thickness of the cloud was making it difficult to see even a meter in front of you. Judging by the sounds it was making, like constant deep bellowing hissing, you make the assumption it was rather large. Another thing you notice is that it’s moving, and rather quickly too, but you had no problem keeping up with it.

A part of you wants to leave it alone, it might be dangerous. But until it proves to be dangerous, your curiosity reigns supreme. With several downstrokes of your wings, you gain altitude until you make it to the spot you nearly crashed into earlier. Going higher, you eventually make it to the top that was weirdly flat. Without a second thought you take the opportunity to rest your muscles and land your feet onto the flat metal. You feel like a seagull resting on the roof of a cruise. Little did you know that cruise is more akin to a cruiser. Hell, you might as well stretch while you take a break. You place a hand on your knee while you twist your torso and stretch both an arm and a wing up to the sky. After a few seconds, you do the same with your other side. You get about ten minutes of stretching before you notice the fog clearing up, whatever you’re on is finally leaving the cumulonimbus clouds. What you see ahead of you is not what you expect, and yet also exactly what you expect at the same time. What you see vaguely resembles a deck of some sorts, it’s just missing any kind of aircraft or vehicles. The last thing you notice before hearing a strange sound behind you is a weird satellite dish. Looking towards the sound of the noise, you just about jump into the air upon seeing a faceless giant heading straight for you. If your body allowed you to talk at that moment, you’d be spouting a line of curses. Instead, you think for one second, and bolt to the edge where you dove off. Maybe you’re hallucinating from the lack of oxygen, maybe you crashed on solid ground an hour ago and this was some kind of dream you were having while your brain fought to live. Surely you didn’t actually see a purple giant with a void for a face.

As you weave between lumps of cloud, you hear an odd noise behind you. Turning your head to look over your shoulder, you see something purple and winged rapidly approaching you. What’s with all the purple?! On instinct, you tuck your wings to fall into a dive, but the panic of being chased makes you second guess yourself and try to flap back up. If you weren’t terrified, you’d feel ridiculous struggling against the wind like a pre-teen learning to fly. You drastically slow down because of this, giving the giant creature enough time to catch up with you. Weird appendages that look like talons were stuck onto glowing striped tentacles moved to grab you, almost managing to hook onto your right wing before you rolled to a lower altitude. You didn’t expect to actually dodge in time, so it takes your brain a second to register what happened before you bank to the left and into a cloud, unaware of the fact you dodge the tentacles for the second time. The thick mound of vapour you entered wasn’t particularly wide, so you could see again in a few seconds. You look to the right, then to the left, deciding which way to go. You were about to go to the left before making the split second decision to just dive. Barely registering the weird sound the creature makes moving to the left.

The longer you held your dive, the faster you got, until you got to a certain altitude where you had to start the process of leveling out, lest you really do crash into the earth. What lay beneath you now are mountains and trees, clouds now above you instead of an empty blue sky. That creature appears to have stopped following you, and you began to feel that relief one feels after surviving a storm. Now, as you turn in the direction of home, you hope that storm doesn’t double back.

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And CUT!

Soft Shock.

Summary: Reader is a particularly fluffy Havian, big wings and tail, a lot of downy feathers. Shows maximum fluff when spooked.

Warning/tags: SFW. Non-violent violence. No dialog(Brain wasn’t braining enough.)

Characters: Tfp Wheeljack. Tfp Miko.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours, You’re.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

Having a lot of insulation had its perks, and its cons. Mostly cons when it comes to living in a warm climate. You had gotten into the habit of carrying a little bag with you due to how often a downy feather decides to vacate your body. Flying and baths were an everyday necessity to keep cool, and you always kept the fridge on base stocked with bottles of water. Right now you were enjoying your daily flight, feeling the cool wind on your feathers and skin,  you could almost forgive the cruel sun blazing its warm light on you. Almost. As much as the wind was nice, a bottle of cold water sounded much better, so back to base it was. Tilting your wings, tail fanning out, you make a quick turn towards base. With the help of the wind’s direction, you make it back rather quickly. Tail folding and wings tucking diagonally, you descend down towards the top of the butte. At the desired height, your tail fans out to the max as you flap your wings to slow down and land safely onto the sandy dirt.

A huff of air leaves your lungs as you calm down from the flight, only for the sound of a loud beep to startle you out of relaxation. Eyes wide, wings flared and puffed up to the max, you quickly turn to the sound of laughter. First you saw Wheeljack, standing slightly slouched with a servo on the side of a wall, laughing at your fluffed self. Next to his peds stood none other than Miko, a Havian like yourself, wings spread as she clutched her stomach, laughing right alongside the mech. You feel your face warm for one reason or another, and quickly darted at the other Havian, aiming to whack at her with your wings. Sensing the incoming attacks, she stumbled into a sprint, still laughing as she jumped off the edge and made her aerial escape. Turning towards Wheeljack, who now stood with a smirk on his dermas, not trying to escape as he assumed you wouldn’t even try to do anything to him. He is a giant made of metal after all, what could you possibly do to him? Unfortunately for him, you weren’t in the business to think logically at the moment, as you hopped into the air and flew right at his face.

_____________________

And CUT!

Summary: Wheeljack gets badly injured on a mission with Bulkhead and Bumblebee, the others are busy fighting over an energon mine to help. Having assisted Ratchet several times in the medbay, you’re brought along in hopes of getting Wheeljack up and moving quicker. A certain tyrant decides to throw a rock in that plan.

Warning/tags: SFW. Active battlefield. Injuries. Reader will never live it down. Unhappy medic. Swearing.

Characters: Tfp Megatron. Tfp Ratchet. Tfp Bumblebee. Tfp Bulkhead. Tfp Wheeljack.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours, You’re.

Extra: This is an indulgent part two for the delusional. Also, this can technically be read without having read the first part.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

You have a toolbox sitting on your lap, trying not to vomit from Ratchet’s horrible driving as you pull thick gloves onto your hands. The after effects from going through the ground bridge both helped to distract you from the nausea, and make it worse. Thankfully you receive a nice dose of adrenaline when Ratchet suddenly swerved to avoid getting hit by the vehicons actively firing at us. Why couldn’t we have just snuck onto the battlefield? You know why, that being Wheeljack having limited time, but still. Maybe this’ll teach the asshole wrecker a thing or two. …. It didn’t, he’s still a bastard and a half when you two make it to where Bee and Bulk are protecting him. Actually, he’s almost worse. You and Ratchet were trying to attend to his wounds, key word trying, but you kind of began to wish the boulders you all were taking cover behind would shift just enough for a stray blaster shot to knock Wheeljack out. Currently, You’re halfway under his chestplate, a modified welding torch in hand as you try to stop any energon leaks you can reach.“ I swear I’m going to weld your wires wrong if you don’t stop pissing us off!” The wrecker chuckled, doubting you’d do anything like that, you’re too much of a goody two shoes to do anything like that. “Can’t help it, Pocket Doc, it’s part of my charm.” Even though you can’t see his stupid faceplate right now, you’re pretty sure you can hear his grin. Unfortunately, your silence alerted Ratchet that you really were about to cross the oblivious mech’s wires. As much as Ratchet would love to have petty revenge inflicted on the wrecker, a blaster shot narrowly missing his helm reminded him that there was a time and a place for this, here and now being neither. “Save it for later, medical malpractice is best performed with fewer witnesses.”

A Cheshire grin spread across your lips when you felt Wheeljack’s body stiffen ever so slightly, although the mech tries to cover up his unease with a chuckle and another bad joke. You’re pretty sure that if Optimus was here, he’d give both you and Ratchet a stern look, the thought making you giggle a little. Wheeljack stayed still long enough for you and Ratchet to mend the worst of the leaks that you two could get to without opening him up. “Heads up everyone, the big bad’s comin’ in!”

You heard Bulkheads warning a second before the sound of an aircraft slicing through the air met your ears. Your focus is ripped from the sound when you feel Wheeljack move, panic flaring at the thought of being crushed in half. “Hey-HEY!! Stop moving!” At the sound of your shouting, Ratchet quickly holds Wheeljack down long enough for you to wiggle our way out, before being sent falling off the side of his chassis as he tries to get up and rejoin the fight. Ratchet was a second too late to catch you, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to have a lovely bruise on your back and shoulder as you wheeze on the ground. “Scrap- Wheeljack! You are in no condition to fight! We need to retreat before you cause any more injuries!” Ratchet was not happy at seeing you trying to struggle to refill your lungs with air, the wrecker's determination to get himself killed in action was only adding fuel to the fire. The constant blaster fire they’re under spurred his anger on further. You hear Bumblebee beeping as you breathe in gasps of air. Turning your head, you see him looking at you with those big optics full of concern. Not wanting him to lose focus and get shot, you wave a hand in a dismissive manner before forcing yourself to get up, coughing and breathing heavily. By the time you could finally breathe normally enough to talk, Bulkhead had finally convinced Wheeljack to retreat, unfortunately that was about the same time Megatron arrived. Said shark faced mech circled above the battlefield. Now that your lungs were in working order, you decided to put them to use by voicing the question that nagged at you. “What the hell is he doing here? Usually he only appears when Optimus is part of the fight-”

When you looked up to watch the tyrant fly, he coincidentally chose that moment to land. Right where you could see him no less. What caught your attention the most wasn’t just his process of transforming, but the fact he landed in a kneel, red eyes piercing as he stood up straight. You didn’t want to assume, especially not when it came to someone like him, but damn was it hard not to. The feeling in your chest annoys you, and with the way Megatron is smirking you feel like he knows, which pisses you off even more. “I’m going to kill him.” As much as Wheeljack agrees with your statement, he can’t stop himself from angering you further, even as he is being held upright by Ratchet and Bulkhead. “You might wanna lower your ambitions, Pocket Doc, mechs both larger and stronger than you have tried.”

You didn’t bother to look at Wheeljack, still glaring daggers at Megatron who held your stare, even though he was very successful at angering you further. A crooked grin spread on your lips, complimenting your glare as you spoke with venom. “I’m no mech.” Bumblebee began to worry you might try something stupid, so to avoid any accidents he quickly scooped you up, breaking the staredown you were having with their worst enemy, and irritating your aching back. “Wh- Bee? What are you doing-” A shot from a vehicon whizzing past you cut you off, and promptly shut you up too. The adrenaline and Bumblebee returning fire made you fail to notice Megatron practically sneering for one reason or another. Ratchet was just about done with this strange thing going on between his leader’s most hated enemy and his own assistant, they needed to retreat before Megatron finally attacks or something even weirder happens. “Agent Fowler, open the ground bridge at our coordinates, now!” To your bewilderment, and probably the autobots too, Megatron still hadn’t said anything nor had he attacked them. Actually, scratch that last part. Just as the ground bridge opens and the autobots begin their retreat, you spot Megatron aiming his arm cannon at you as it charges up. Your heart just about leapt into your throat, your surprise amusing the tyrant judging by the smirk showing off his sharp dentas. As Bulkhead and Ratchet carry Wheeljack through the portal, Bumblebee covering the three while keeping you secured in a servo, you ignore your fear in favour of glaring at Megatron. Except, an idea crosses your mind, one that could get you killed but was also deliciously devious. Instead of giving him any kind of entertainment or satisfaction, you turn your head and ignore him. Dismiss his threat of death like it was unimportant scrap.

A short break in the blaster fire gives Bumblebee the opportunity to retreat into the ground bridge, and even as you feel the weird vibrations of the portal you keep your focus on anything but Megatron, who didn’t fire his cannon as you and Bee left the battlefield. As you feel yourself travel through the ground bridge, a question pricks at your thoughts. ‘What the hell?’.

_____________________

And CUT! I both love and hate Megatron, I’m delusional but also hyper aware of who he is, what he is. Tfp Megatron feels like a gentleman which makes me wanna swoon, but his cruelty and manipulation makes me want to avoid him like he’s made of asbestos.

A dance of toxicity.

Summary: Human shares a few war crimes and history facts, only one sided. For now.

Warning/tags: Racism(Specism?). SFW?. War crimes and disturbing historical facts mentioned(Plus a present one). Mention of possible torture. Read at your own discretion.

Characters: Tfp Megatron. Human.

Pronouns: It, its. Human. @1stsana I believe you wanted to be alerted for this post? Sorry if I got the @ wrong, I'm still learning :'D.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

Megatron could scoff, hell he almost did scoff at the absurdity coming from the fleshy pest. He should crush it for having the audacity to cut him off, if only he wasn’t planning on using it as a hostage. But, maybe he could let Starscream toy with it? …. No, he’d most likely screw something up, leading to the organic’s escape. “Hey, are you even listening, Pointy?” The voice of the annoying creature grated at his patience, almost at the same level Starscream liked to reach. Unfortunately, it noticed his attention returning to it, and continued. “Like I was saying, White Phosphorus, nasty thing but also quite cool when it isn’t being used on people. Did you know it’s still being used today? Even though it’s a war crime? Anyways, moving on, do you guys avoid attacking or killing medics? Cuz it’s a war crime here to do that to an unarmed medic.”

“I do not care for your laws, crimes or primitive tactics, and I suggest yo-” “Primitive?? I’ll have you know that we’ve developed bombs that leave behind imprints, or shadows, of the people that were vaporized!” Megatron would’ve slammed his fist down by the container the fleshbag was in if it weren’t for what it had said. His curiosity was piqued, for the moment. He could let it go on if it meant potentially learning valuable information. “And I don’t think that’s even in the top ten most disturbing things we’ve done!”

_____________________

And CUT!

Summary: Human kidnapped by local drug lord, offers to compare war crimes.

Warning/tags: SFW. Human.

Characters: Tfp Megatron. Miko mentioned.

Pronouns: They, them, they’re, theirs, is there a fifth? Human.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

The human isn’t entirely sure how they got here, all they remember is chasing after Miko through the ground bridge and into an active battlefield, and now they’re in a tube. It’s cold, it’s uncomfortable, and being talked at by shark faced mech wasn’t hel- wait. The human recognizes this mech. Purple optics that can barely look straight, mold on his faceplate, weird spikes on his pauldrons, and an obnoxious cannon on his arm. Megatron.

Oh, this will be beautiful.

“Hey,” Bold of the human to cut the tyrant off mid sentence, said tyrant looking down at said human like they were a stain on his rusty armor. “Do you cybertronians have a list of war crimes? Because we do, and I wanna compare notes.” _____________________

Preening trust.

Summary: Bumblebee learns how to preen feathers. Reader is nervous but decides to trust him to not turn them into a flightless bird.

Warning/tags: SFW. Gender neutral reader.

Characters: TFP Bumblebee. Miko mentioned.

Pronouns: You, your, yours.

3… 2.. 1. GO! _____________________

Avian humans, Havians, The Winged Ones, Feather Butts, whatever you’re called, are a minority. Taking only about one-fourth of the human population, and in some places it’s a rarity to see them. Jasper wasn’t used to housing any Havians, so people like you and Miko need to go the extra mile to get some necessities. One of which being a feather comb.

There are a lot of names for what you are, ranging from Avian Humans, Havians, and even Feather Butts. While the last one is funny, Havians was always a safe bet. In comparison to ‘normal’ humans, there weren’t many of you, making up only one-fourth of the human population. So it wasn’t all that uncommon to find civilizations without any Havian accommodations, let alone any Havians to accommodate. Jasper is unfortunately one of them, which made it difficult for you and Miko as you had to order supplies from the nearest city. Recently you had broken one of your feather combs, while your spare was still busy partying in neverland.

Lost, it’s lost, you lost your only spare feather comb.

Which leaves you where you currently are, sitting perched on the knee, or whatever cybetronian equivalent to a knee, of Bumblebee who had insisted on helping you preen the traditional way. Birds only produce oil on their tails and use their beaks to spread it around, but Havians produce oil on both wings and tail much like sweat glands, so you’ve prepared by wearing rubber gloves and brought a little hand towel.

“Be gentle, okay? I don’t want you ripping off any of my feathers.” While you know Bumblebee will be as careful as he possibly can, you still speak with a stern voice to ensure he won’t get too excited or distracted during the process.

Bumblebee nods his helm, a couple of deeps leaving him before he’s moving his servos to your tail feathers. Spotting the movement, you swat at his servors. “Oi! You’re only doing the wings, got it? No touchy the tail.” You almost felt bad upon seeing the expression on his faceplate, he looked like a kicked puppy, but you know that’s only because of those big eyes of his. Those optics are powerful, and you’re pretty sure he knows it.

You extend your left wing to make it easier for him, before reaching your hands behind yourself to reach your tail, feeling around for any pin feathers. Feeling the large metal digits explore your wing was odd, and you were certain the feathers would be a mess afterwards. God you missed your comb. Bumblebee was gentle, lightly rubbing at the pale grey-white pin feathers like you had instructed beforehand, the keratin falling apart easily. The oil trapped between the feather and keratin getting smeared over the feathers and his digits.

A rhythm was set soon enough, peaceful silence encompassing you both. Once you finished with any pin feathers on your tail, you smeared some of the oil that had gotten on your gloves onto the feathers, before moving on to start on your right wing. Bumblebee, being inexperienced at this, and having the disadvantage of big digits, was taking his time with your left wing. Taking a glance at his work so far, you notice he’s putting in the effort of not messing up your feathers too much, keeping them as neatly ordered as he could. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your lips, and if he wasn’t so hyper focused on preening he might’ve noticed the soft feeling in your EM-field. Or maybe he did.

By the time he finished your left wing, you had already completed your right wing and taken off your rubber gloves. Seeing how shiny his digits were from the oil, you couldn’t help but chuckle, Bumblebee joined in with a few giggling beeps as he looked down at his servos that could’ve rivaled Knockouts paint in levels of reflectiveness. Picking up the hand towel and standing up on his leg, you reach up to wipe as much of the oil off as you could. Bumblebee didn’t hesitate to let you, lowering his servos for easier access to his servos. His optics looked over at your left wing, feeling a swell of pride in his spark at his work, which was honestly impressive for his first time.

Maybe you’d let him help you again next time you had to preen.

_______________________

And CUT!