#blackshadow x reader

Blackshadow

✦ ── He can be such an ass when it comes to affection. Constantly moving away from it, refusing to initiate it, arguing if you asked if he really just flinched when you went to kiss him.

✦ ── Loves you to the dead universe and back, really, but what if someone sees him bein' all soft with you? He would lose mad aura and take a hit to his reputation.

✦ ── But you better be at his side at all times. No seat next to his at the helm of a ship? A new one is installed soon after. Someone standing between the two of you? He barks an order their way so they scram.

✦ ── Blackshadow, the feared phase sixer with what is likely nearing a trillion deaths under his belt, has never been known to trust anyone. You? His right hand con? Nonsense! You just piss him off the least, is all...

✦ ── Refuses to share a habsuite with you because then it's 'too obvious' that you're a thing. Explain how you wake up to him cramming himself onto the tiny solo recharge slab with you, then? Is him entering your habsuite all the time not suspicious enough?

"You can't leave yet."

"Why not? You're leaving." You approached the door, only for his frame to block yours. He crossed his arms as if he needed to look any more intimidating than he already did.

"I am this ship's captain. I have to leave. Work to get done." The red glow of his optics brightened, snarling when you took a step closer in defiance.

"As do I!" Keeping your relationship hidden was not your idea, and it continued to prove an obstacle in your everyday life.

"If you leave right after me and someone notices, they'll think we're...you know." If his expression could be anything but cocky or serious, you imagined he'd look nervous right about now.

A drawn-out sigh escaped your lips.

"One minute. Go."

"Ten?"

"Just go!"

Deadlock

✦ ── He isn't exactly obedient, but he certainly doesn't break the rules all the time either. Deadlock's only aim is to win the war, by whatever means he deems appropriate. Often that means going behind Turmoil's back.

✦ ── But he had a much harder time going against you. So loyal to the cause, it was both a desirable trait that he loved in you and one that killed him a million times over.

✦ ── Because he couldn't say no to you. He may not be the kind of partner to hold your hand and whisper sweet nothings, but damn, he'd do anything you demanded of him.

✦ ── As far as he is concerned, every other con could curl up and die. The war could disappear without a trace, and he'd be happy so long as he had you and your sweet little demands.

✦ ── There are limits, of course. He will only act in ways that assure no harm comes to you, and his goal is furthered. But still, your ability to get Deadlock to bend to your whim is more than just impressive. It should be impossible.

"Turmoil told us not to leave this district."

You had grabbed Deadlock's wrist, who froze in place at your words.

"If these bots escape, they'll get backup. I need to end this now." He growled back at you, red eyes narrowed and bright. There was no real threat, even if he tried to make it seem so.

"We can't risk it. If you go, I'll go. Then we'll both be in trouble."

That seemed to snap him out of it. The con pulled his arm from your grip; this time it was his claws digging into your plating to drag you along with him.

"Next time you're staying on the ship."

Fort Max

✦ ── Fort Max is a bot of action and very few words. He does what needs to be done and keeps every reply as sufficient as he can manage. Unless, of course, he has a good comeback.

✦ ── It takes a lot for him to engage in any conversation beyond listening, even with those he considers close friends. He wasn't always like this, but it's who he is now, and it isn't important enough to fix.

✦ ── And yet, for some unknown reason, he has no fear of sharing with you. He greets you first, asks you about your day, and details his so long as you're willing to listen. You disarm him (verbally, at least) and make him comfortable enough to open up.

✦ ── It is slow to build up, but eventually he goes from a sentence to full speeches. The only thing that doesn't seem to change is exposure to others. The moment someone else is around, he stops talking immediately. He'll listen to you, but that is it.

✦ ── Combination of lack of trust for others and his desire only really applying to you. He wants you to know how he is doing, and he wants to know anything you'll tell him.

"Max?" Your utterance of the nickname gave him pause, realizing he'd been staring into space with a grumble.

"Are you giving me the silent treatment again?" You tilted your helm to get a better look at him, to which he looked away with a sigh. His eyes landed on the mech who'd just entered the room.

"No." Curt and precise, different from the Max you'd come to get especially close to. "Can we go someplace else?"

His frame relaxed when you nodded.

Ultra Magnus

✦ ── Precision. Perfection. Everything has a place and shall stay in that place. And he only allows for things with a clear purpose to remain in his office. That means nothing frivolous or extra.

✦ ── The slightest movement of one of his carefully measured and placed belongings will be met with strict punishment. Enough to keep plenty of the Lost Light crew from entering the office in the first place.

✦ ── You are the only person other than himself that he accounts for in his office. The casing of his pen is in your accent colour. The lounging chair in the corner is for you to sit on. The light is a shade that complements your main paint.

✦ ── Of course, you'll still get into shit for moving his stuff or trailing any dirt into his office. He'll handle the punishment personally, of course. No delegation needed.

✦ ── But he accounts for you. His office is one example, but it tells you that he considers you as a variable in everything he does. The smallest of details tailored to fit your needs, your presence a given when he considers seating charts at his lectures.

"And just where do you think you're going?" The deep hum of his voice was authoritative, though somehow less than it usually was.

"I was just thinking of leaving early. Maybe grab a drink at Swerve's." You made that up, really. You just wanted to test what would happen if you left without him.

"Not according to my schedule. Sit back down. We'll leave at 11:42 sharp."

"Yes, sir." And just like that, he was back to typing away on his datapad.

Vortex

✦ ── While Vortex may not be inherently affectionate or lovey-dovey, your relationship is no secret. He shows you off a lot, and he isn't afraid of claiming you to be his in front of others.

✦ ── The word is pride. Vortex doesn't care about his own reputation, or his fellow Combaticons' prestige, or anything really. Except for you. You are the best thing to happen to him, and he's vocal about it, too.

✦ ── You won't catch him holding your hand (often), but every single hour your designation slips out of his mouth smooth as butter.

✦ ── And if anyone speaks ill of you? They're probably dead! Yeah, it doesn't really matter what team they're on or how important they are; he is actually going to kill them. If Onslaught won't let him, then at the very least he'll leave them resembling a pile of scrap.

✦ ── It's stupid because the only person he hides that pride and display of love from is you. In private he'll be affectionate but constantly make fun of you, and then in public he's defending your honour while shying away from touch.

If you could melt away behind your servos right now, you would.

"I don't hear you calling them Conjunx." Skywarp and Vortex were having an argument, each attempting to rage bait the other.

"Not yet. Real love takes time, love, and care." Vortex spoke as if he were the most experienced Cybertronian on the topic, feigning his nonchalance.

When the seeker snickered at him, the smaller con reeled back a fist.

"No, Vortex!"

Actions have consequences. Blackshadow had always known that. Whether it was raiding random ships in deep space or casually committing mass murder on Autobot battlegrounds at Megatron's behest—he never really felt bad about it. That was the job

He knew exactly what he signed up for when he joined the Decepticons

Instead of caring about the noble ideals or grand vision of the faction, he mostly cared about one thing: himself. And the profits. That was it. Yes, he was that selfish—but who wasn’t, really? Blackshadow just wasn’t ashamed to show it off in the most brutal, over-the-top way possible. And that, conveniently, was also the excuse he used when the Autobots once bribed him with a frankly obscene amount of credits

And as I said, actions have consequences

Phase-sixer would surely regret his poor life choices eventually—and he did, the moment he saw DJD in his line of sight

.

.

You found it mildly—okay, maybe more than mildly—frustrating when you realized Phase-sixer wasn’t offline yet, despite very much needing to be. His condition was so bad that even the thought of reusing or recycling his body parts felt like trying to repurpose a toaster after it went through a supernova

Still, with a shred of pity you somehow hadn’t burned out yet, you decided to help. Not too much, of course—you weren’t about to throw resources at a bot that looked like he’d been chewed up by a black hole and spat out sideways

If he got better, great—miracle of the century. If not? Well, there were probably still some parts left you could make use of. Legs. Maybe an arm. A wire or two

Dragging his wreck of a body onto the ship without turning him into even more of a scrap heap was a challenge on its own. And the missing parts? That was a scavenger hunt from hell. Honestly, you might’ve felt a pang of sympathy for what he’d gone through—if he hadn’t been such a monumental jerk during the war. But hey, you tried to help. That’s got to count for something, right?

“Primus—he really refuses to die, huh…”

The first few repair attempts? A disaster. Phase-sixer wasn’t showing even a hint of recovery. His systems—thankfully still salvageable, or he’d be space dust—were an absolute nightmare: circuits fried, networks glitchier than a bootleg holovid, fuel lines shredded, wires doing interpretive dance, and metal that looked like it lost a fight with a sun. Disgusting. But all you could do was complain while servos kept working away on this pathetic excuse for a bot

.

.

Pain. That was the first thing Blackshadow noticed. Everything hurt. His systems were slowly rebooting, and it honestly felt like his circuits had been deep-fried and then stabbed for good measure. Electric jolts shot through him like sparks with a grudge. His limbs were numb, paralyzed, and honestly? He didn’t want to find out how much it’d hurt if he could move. His processor crawled to catch up, dragging in fragmented memories of the catastrophe that had landed him in this mess, trying to assess his surroundings. Where the frag was he?

His optics still worked, barely. The right one was cracked to hell, giving him a distorted view that made everything look like a nightmare through a funhouse mirror. He shut them instead, focusing on the persistent, burning ache from his last encounter with—ugh—those DJD bastards. Loyal lapdogs of Megatron, bringing justice with a chainsaw. He should have been angry, but he was too exhausted to feel anything that complicated

...Shouldn’t he be dead by now?

He forced his remaining good optic open, just to get a read on where the universe had dumped him this time

Some kind of lab or medbay, maybe. White. Sterile. Looked like the inside of a stasis pod got into a fight with a hospital and lost. A wave of brief relief hit him—until he realized he wasn’t dead, which meant someone had saved him. Whoever it was either had serious medical talent… or the universe had pulled off a miracle and was now just showing off. Either way, he kind of wished they hadn’t bothered. This was the kind of pain that made death sound like a spa day

“You’re awake. I see. How you feeling?”

“Hurts like hell, right? Of course it does. You were a wreck when I found you. Like—half a bot, literally! You were missing a leg! But I found it. Took some doing. Honestly, would’ve been easier to just bolt a new one on, but hey”

Blackshadow gave you a skeptical glance, equal parts confused and annoyed. You talked too much. Sounded a little too proud of yourself. It reminded him uncomfortably of himself—back when he wasn’t a pile of pain with attitude. His brow furrowed instinctively, and you noticed

“Oh, so you can hear me! Can you talk, big guy?”

You sounded amused, not serious at all. But really—who takes a dying bot seriously?

Phase-sixer's silence said enough. He was pretty sure his voicebox still worked, but just thinking about speaking sent a shock of pain through every fried wire and scorched servo. Even twitching his neck felt like asking the universe to kick him in the spark again

Pathetic

And you seemed to realize that—your tone softened a little, your expression shifting into something almost sympathetic

“Worse than I thought, huh? But don’t worry. You’re in good hands”

Oh great, sympathy. Just what every Decepticon war veteran wants to hear while he’s flat on his back, being pitied by someone who clearly thinks “bedside manner” is a personality trait. Part of him wanted to scoff. Maybe even crack a joke. If he were feeling better, he probably would have. But he wasn’t. And he couldn’t deny… something about it—your tone, your words—actually made him feel slightly better. Warmer, somehow. Safer

Which was ridiculous

Phase-sixer, feared enforcer of the Decepticons, taking comfort from some nobody bot who'd dragged him back from the brink? If someone had told him that back in the day, he would’ve laughed in their face

Now? All he could do was lie there, lick his wounds, and hope to either recover… or die properly this time

Blackshadow

✦ ── The genuine, undisturbed composure Blackshadow holds himself with makes him seem like he could handle petty teasing for a long time. But the thing is...you're his partner, and he wants what you're offering. So why shy away?

✦ ── Don't be surprised if it only takes a little slip of cloth off the shoulder and a glance in his direction to get him reaching out for you.

✦ ── Unlike many, he likes to handle you for a bit at his typical size. He'll cup you in his servos and push at your clothes to show how easily he could rip them straight off. The patience is rewarding. Really savouring how helpless you are to him.

✦ ── All the while he's casually strolling to your shared habsuite. Pulling a leg up to rest his pede on the edge and heaving himself up while seamlessly shifting mass. He is going to manhandle you no matter what size he is.

✦ ── Patience comes from his spite. If you thought you could get away with teasing, then he'll just have to tease you right back. He'll edge you to the point of tears with a cocky smile on his face.

Fort Max

✦ ── Internally? He flusters super quickly. It's easy to get his mind racing with all kinds of dirty thoughts with a single tease. Externally, he is wonderful at hiding it. No fans kicking on or bemused expressions. Just averts his eyes and tries to busy himself.

✦ ── You could keep it up all day, and he'll keep himself together until he's done his work. A few minutes before he finishes his last task, he'll tell you to head to your habsuite, that he'll meet you there soon.

✦ ── That's to stop him from grabbing you the moment he's done. Hates the idea of scaring you or being too rough. He can rush straight to your shared room where he knows you'll be waiting for him without worrying about dropping or jostling you.

✦ ── He always mass shifts as small as he can get, which is still a good size larger than any human. No risking anything, especially not when you've got him all pent up like this and he wants nothing more than to get his servos on you. Feel that soft, warm skin.

✦ ── Such a gentle giant. He wants to service you and show you how good he can make you feel. Treat you like royalty. He can be quite the noisy one, especially after a day's worth of teasing. Growling and rumbling into your ear.

Overlord

✦ ── Is his fragile little human playing games with him? Teasing him? That's basically an invitation for him to do the same, and worse, to you. Awful actor, but he'll keep pretending he didn't see that playful wink or flash of skin.

✦ ── The real teasing begins when he reaches for you and you dare evade him. Not that he hates a chase, but he wants you now, and you shying away is delaying his satisfaction. Want to act like a brat? Fine. Prepare to be treated like one.

✦ ── The game is over once he feels any shred of frustration, especially of the sexual variety. You're wrapped in metal digits that are nearly crushing you and brought up to meet his optics. He loves when you struggle like that. How you can't maintain eye contact with him.

✦ ── Such a dirty talker! He'll tell you every bit about what he wants to do to you and how he's going to get off with using you like the dolly little toy you are. No matter how feisty you are, he likes to remind you that it does absolutely nothing to fend him off.

✦ ── His favourite kind of sexual torture is overstimulation. Everything, everywhere, inescapable. His stamina exceeds yours quite literally by weeks, potentially months. It'll be over when he decides it is.

Ultra Magnus

✦ ── An attempt to tease the Ultra Magnus is a task more daunting than conjunxing the mech. It isn't that he is oblivious to it; it's that he's attributing every other reason to your behaviour first.

✦ ── That fabric slipping to flash him was a genuine accident. The wink was just a human gesture of greeting, even if a smidge vulgar. Wearing his colours is your way of showing your pride in being his partner, which is endearing.

✦ ── You'd have to be super obvious in your advance. Catch him off guard when he's mass-shifted by straddling his lap, and lean into him as if his space were your own. Now his cheeks are flushed blue with energon.

✦ ── Despite the fact that you are known and declared partners, he often feels guilty about it (being your superior on the Lost Light) and feels acts of intimacy are uncouth. What if he's taking advantage of you? All those worries melt away when you get affectionate with him and show him you want to be with him.

✦ ── Quite demanding. Pushes you into the positions he wants, keeps a perfect pace, and grumbles about how much he loves and wants you. Enjoys being in charge of you, taking care of you, and proving he can be the perfect conjunx.

Author's Note ── Thank you SO much for the kind words and for reading my work! This is my first Transformers request, which I was over the MOON about!

Blackshadow

A frame taller than you remember approached you from the direction you were headed, crimson optics dimmed to a relaxed hue that contradicted his imposing presence.

Blackshadow, once a rookie you trained at the flight academy. Now outranking everyone but the Decepticon Elites.

There was no way he would recognize you.

Bowing your head respectfully as you passed him, the last thing you expected was for a servo to catch your shoulder.

"Not even a greeting? Long time no see, 'Captain.'" The Phase Sixer tilted his head down to meet your optics, though you could have sworn you used to be the same height.

"I hardly hold that title to the likes of you, Blackshadow, sir. Congratulations on your recent promotion." The respectful bow you attempted was interrupted. Instead, you were pushed back against the wall when he forced himself into your space.

"Been dreaming of the day we'd cross paths again, you know? Prove myself to my instructor." The smirk on his faceplate grew when you gave no resistance to his digit lifting your chin to look back up at him.

His optics were now a blazing red, their glow reflected off your paint from the proximity.

"Got time for a private word?"

Heretech

"Leaving so soon?" The imposing voice of the warrior elite nearly had you jumping out of your armour, already on edge, trying to escape the conference as soon as possible.

He was exactly the reason you were trying to get out quickly.

"Plenty to get done! You know, for the cause." Averting your optics from his, you looked longingly out the window to see the shuttle you were hoping to board had taken off without you.

"I've been trying to get in touch. I was beginning to think you might have been ignoring me." He was leaning over you, broad frame blocking you from any escape.

If you could melt into the cracks of the floor below you right now, you would have been.

"I sincerely apologize, Heretech. It was never my intention to—"

"I figured. You were never the type to be disloyal. I do ponder if that's changed." Finally stepping out of your space, he turned his back to you and began to move back into the halls of the ship.

Your hidden relief that the encounter was finally over was quickly ruined.

"Well? Hurry up and come with me. We'll talk more somewhere secluded."

Killmaster

A low growl stopped you dead in your tracks.

Slowly turning, you had to tilt your helm up till you nearly broke your neck cables to meet the optics of the weapons engineer you once oversaw the projects of.

You were—and still are-apart of the ethics committee on the research vessel he made most of his early discoveries in bidirectional weaponry on. You'd heard he was apart of the Warriors Elite now.

Didn't think that came with an entire frame remodelling. He was huge.

"You, committee member." His frame rumbled when he spoke. The fact that he had uttered anything was already unexpected.

You'd also heard he was a violent mastermind. A complete psychopath. At least more than before.

"Yes?" Your voice box glitched. You'd have been flustered if you weren't terrified that he was about to unleash years of rage from your constant nagging about his work back when you outranked him.

"Follow me." This time you could feel your spark tremble with his words. Killmaster left no room for argument, already heading into the halls leading to his new lab.

Overlord

"There you are!"

It wasn't the familiar road of a jet engine or the rotating clicks of tank treads. Nothing you could have heard from miles away and prepared to outrun.

He was right there beside you, throwing an arm around your waist and pulling you into the bulk of his frame.

"I was looking all over the galaxy for you. I appreciate the game of chase." His voice purred into your audials, his helm far too close to yours for comfort.

You knew from experience he bites.

"Just keeping you on your toes, you know?" Forcing a sense of familiarity into your words, you did your best to seem amused.

If you could go back in time and decide against becoming a paramedic, you would have. That, or tell yourself picking the purple badge meant tending to Overlord for years and still not escaping him.

"You know, you're the only person who knew about my losing streak with Big Bad. Isn't that interesting?" He was forcing you to walk with him, pulling at your waist and taking you away from the safety of the Medibay. "I'd hate for that to get out."

"I promise I would never tell a spark—"

"Promises are cute. But I have a more permanent solution in mind."

Sixshot

The silence was threatening to drown you.

Sixshot, somehow the biggest threat in the room, blended it perfectly when he wanted to. He'd gone unnoticed right up until he stepped beside you, joining you in the navigation room of a small cargo ship.

What little crew the ship had was scattered elsewhere. You were alone with him, the Decepticon who'd hailed for a ride.

"This is what you do now?" His voice was low, and though he'd intended for it to meet you in a casual manner, you'd taken it entirely judgementally.

Your trainee was now a Phase Sixer. Warrior Elite. Far beyond you. And you'd become a cargo ship captain.

"Just...Needed a change of pace. Everyone has a place in the cause." It sounded more like you were convincing yourself. The mech let out a mellow vent.

"You were supposed to become one of our best combatants. Fight alongside us Elite." He decided against saying himself. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think the cause meant nothing to you."

A shiver made its way through your plating, rising from the sharp edge of his voice. The muffle from the mask barely helped.

"You aren't here just for the ride, are you?" Your spark trembled, trying to remain steady as you battled the paranoia. Paranoia that had eaten you alive and forced you to step away from your old position.

"No. I'm here to sort this out."

Author's Note ── I assume you meant the Warriors Rlite fr and not the Phase Sixers but DAMN I am just realizing how little Killmaster or Heretech show up or talk at all in IDW.

In the millions of years that the great war waged on, the mech had seen many interesting characters. While the war wore personalities down into proper foot soldier material, he had still met some who held onto their vanity.

Obsessive polishing. Touching up scratches with fresh paint. Always fresh out of the washracks.

He didn't understand that. Being shiny on the battlefield meant standing out.

The last thing you wanted was to be a walking 'shoot me' sign.

"And this one?" His digit pointed to the little white-lidded pot, which you reached for to unscrew.

"Body moisturizer. This is one of the best ones, cheap too." You raised it so he could get a better look at the thick cream within. His olfactory sensors didn't detect any obvious perfume in the product. "I use it after showers, usually. Keeps my skin from drying out."

He rumbled, optics scanning over the line of products you had in your personal quarters. Some for hair, some for skin (he'd learned rapidly that facial skin and the rest had to have separate products), and some for scent.

"We have something similar, a type of wax. Haven't used it before. Knew some mechs who did."

You hummed in acknowledgement, eyes tracing the roughed-up plating on his servos.

"So soap and wax. That's it? What about for your teeth?" When he only stared in silence, you pointed to your teeth.

"Denta? Same soap."

"You use...the same soap you do for your body wash for your 'denta'?" The disgust evident on your face made him scoff. "Is this just a you thing or a cybertronian thing?"

"Use it to clean my weaponry too. Everything in the ship, really." His voice dipped into a shameful grumble, picking up on your disapproving tone.

He refused to answer the second question.

"I can't imagine that's right. I'm no metal scientist—"

"Metallurgist."

"Metallurgist, thank you. But either your cleaner is too gentle to clean weaponry or far too strong for your mouth." It was at times like this when you wished you had something of a crew. Anyone to back you up.

The two of you were in a silent standoff for a heavy moment. Eventually, he sighed and rested his chin on the table you stood upon.

"You're right. Doesn't change that it wasn't an option during the war." The same vain mechs came to the forefront of his mind again. Being that clean was a disadvantage. It proved to be so when more and more of them died on the battlefield.

Mechs like him, who let their frames deteriorate with the war, blended right in.

"The war is over. Time for a new hygiene routine, wouldn't you say?"

His crimson optics dimmed, the engine within him cooling into a quieter hum.

You were right again. The war is over. He has a difficult time remembering that.

"Set navs for the nearest cosmetic store, Blackshadow! Let's get you some new products."

Author's Note ── Thank you so much! I am so glad you liked it. So many underrated characters go unloved... Deathsaurus, Trepan, Siren, Atomizer, Getaway, Vortex, and so many more come to mind!