#high-grade

TFP Optimus Prime X Flirty! Reader

Mentions of Drinking Alcohol! 

Hope this is okay lol

Fowler had brought you into the fold simply out of desperation- the poor man just wanted to take a vacation and all of the paperwork prevented him from doing so. He knew that while you weren’t always professional, you were the best damn agent they had.

When you were introduced to the bots, the first thing you said to Optimus was “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” while winking.

Agent Fowler immediately face palmed. 

You became quick friends with pretty much all of the bots. Arcee because of your war stories, Bulkhead because you always had time for his ‘stupid’ questions, Ratchet because of your aptitude for Cybertronian medicine, and Bumblebee because you were just generally friendly. Optimus was hard to make friends with at first because of his reserved personality, but you both discovered your shared love for reading.  

You and Optimus often read books at the same time and talked about them- like a book club, but just for the two of you. For someone who takes almost nothing seriously, you are very intelligent. He sees why you are one of the best agents.

While they all became friends quickly, that didn’t mean they supported your flirting. You would often flirt to ease an awkward silence, or lighten the dark mood that so often sets on the base. 

There was a great victory against the Decepticons- a mine was taken right from under their noses which led to a lot being added to their reserves. Some of the energon was of a higher concentration- to which you learned was called high grade. 

Optimus noticed that the morale in the base was low, despite getting a great win against their foes. This led you to suggest a party. So a party he had. All of the kids were sent home early, and you drove with Bumblebee to pick up vodka and some mini-shot bottle shots. 

Once you got back to the base, you all began the party. Somehow, you managed to get the normally serious Prime to have a drinking challenge with you. So there you were: chugging down straight vodka while Optimus chugged an energon cube. The other bots (with Ratchet being the loudest somehow) began cheering. You beat Optimus much to everyone’s surprise. They didn’t think a small thing like you could beat them in any drinking game.

Once the excitement of the drinking game calmed down, everyone but you and Optimus went to bed. 

You both sat across from each other talking about your pasts. What you did before you came to be at the base and all that.

“You used to be an archivist? Like a librarian?” A grin pulled onto your face. "Can I get a reference number?” Optimus blinked a confused look. “So I can, y’know, check you out?” You slurred.

A loud bark of a laugh came from the Prime. “Damn, if being sexy was a crime, you’d never be a free person.”

You nearly spit up your vodka with laughter. “Didn’t know you could flirt, Op!"

An uncharacteristic smirk came across his face as he made his way over to you. He leaned down near your ear, and whispered “There’s a lot I can do.” 

You couldn't help the huge blush that covered your face as you suddenly got shy. "Better cool it before I have to kiss you!" You tried to maintain your cool persona, but when he leaned in and grabbed your chin you just melted into a flustered mess.

In the morning, Ratchet had the worst hangover. He grumbled as he made his way into the medbay, only to freeze. There you and Optimus were. Optimus was laying up against the wall at an angle while you laid on his chest snoring away. 

Madeira, officially the Autonomous Region of Madeira, is one of the two autonomous regions of Portugal, the other being the Azores. It is an archipelago situated in the North Atlantic Ocean, in a region known as Macaronesia, just under 400 kilometres to the north of the Canary Islands and 520 kilometres west of Morocco. Madeira is geologically located on the African Tectonic Plate, though the archipelago is culturally, economically and politically European. Its total population was estimated in 2016 at 289,000. The capital of Madeira is Funchal, which is located on the main island's south coast.

I had some Headcannons and such about Vehicon life ( they are so cute and so much more could’ve been done with them ) in Transformers Prime, so heres a disjointed drabble about it - 

The cold and vacant halls of the Nemesis were inhabited by many hot, Cybertronain bodies. The majority of the populous being Decepticon cannon fodder in the form of Vehicons. Treated as one body by their uppers, save for a couple more lenient Decepticon elites. Though each one has their own story and background and personality. Things they love and hate and believe in. Those whom they relish and those who they despise – all amongst their ranks. Each Vehicon’s has a numerical designation, but these are scarcely used amongst themselves. Instead, meaningful nicknames are given. Based on personality traits, things they like, or the memories they’ve shared. None of these self-given titles were especially intricate and they had to be careful not to use them in front of their uppers.

One of the most popular Vehicons, who often delivered information back to his brothers-in-arms from Breakdown was given the nickname Kingston and was well respected. Another, a clumsy mech who had been shot so many times in the field but had somehow never been killed had taken the name ‘Respawn’. These were just a couple in a sea names given by friends and lovers. Flippers, Specks, Jon, Hot Wheels, Afty, Bonkers, Legs, Tosser – All mechs with separate identities and sparks that had been transplanted into identical bodies. During the war, there were two main routes to becoming a Vehicon. The more digestible one being the origin of ‘Runners’ on Cybertron as the war progressed. As the planet began to fall into dormancy, or die – only a few ‘Hot Spots’ were left. These patches of heat on the planets’ surface brought forth some of the last life Primus ever birthed. Sparks would appear in these vast areas, and it was a race. Decepticon and Autobot runners alike would race across the miles to be the first to collect the spark and bring it back to their respective base, where it would be crafted into whatever they wanted.

Which was at most times, for a regular spark, a Vehicon mode. One could say that the Vehicons weren’t the most agile, or best at aiming – because they were more than literally in the wrong bodies. But it suited the Decepticon cause just fine, and that was all they ever knew, so they carried on. The other method was much more uncomfortable.

The majority of Vehicons got along well. They had to, living and working in such close proximity to each other. The separate groups mostly stuck to themselves, divided by alt modes or job descriptions. Flyers or ‘Eradicons’ were the most prestigious in the hierarchy, as flight superiority was valued the most – a ghost of prospect from a dead culture of Cybertron. This ran all the way down to the servant-class mining mechs, who drilled for energon beneath the crust of the earth. They seemed mostly contented to stay out of the way, glad that they didn’t come in contact with the likes of Starscream and Megatron all too often, much to the laughability of those who lived aboard the Nemesis.

Life aboard the floating husk of dormant metal was unforgiving. Although many Decepticons had first supported Megatron of Tarn because of his words and great speeches of equality and revolution, the eons had given way to sickening irony. It was glaringly obvious that not all aboard the Nemesis were equal, or even valued. Vehicons that perished to the light of Autobot cannons were mourned only between their subsections of soldiers. Never again to be mentioned by their leaders. The promise of a perfect Cybertron had been strayed so far from it was a common belief between them that it would never occur. Deceived by their own cause. Now they clung to a lifeless ultimatum of war because it was all they knew, and harboured their life’s service. Besides, if any committed treason in a trifling attempt to leave the Cause or abandon their post, the immediate punishment was the death penalty. It made sense, of course. One couldn’t just leave. They could be captured by Autobots and leak sensitive information or turn on the cause, later on, causing a multitude of issues. No, it was far more efficient that they perish. It was loyalty to the ghost of a great movement or an early meeting with the Allspark. Discontent was an ill-fitting word, but the Vehicons filled the holes with self-made methods.

Deep in mining wells, or in forgotten rooms aboard the warship, over commlinks they met. They met and they complained and they schemed and they wished. More importantly, they humoured each other and reminded one another that they were not alone. They held moments of silence for their lost comrades. They spoke about the direction of the cause, and gossip between who was in and out of Megatron’s favour at the precise moment, and predicted who would be in the future. Starscream was always mentioned. Together they shared smuggled high-grade and energon snacks and assured each other that soon, they could remove their visors.

However, the most thrilling meeting came once a week, at the permission of Megatron. The Nemesis was equipped with more than one towering hall, the smallest of which had been converted into something similar to what many troops may have known on Cybertron. It shared many commonalities with drinking bars and taverns that were littered across the less esteemed parts of most Cybertronain cities. As a joke, the tavern-like hall had been dubbed ‘The Prime’s Head’. It was open once an earth week and supplied the majority of the motivation the troops needed to keep going. Megatron was also acutely aware that it kept his armies placid, having one outlet was enough to stop short of an uprising. Though it was rumoured to him that during his time in space, Starscream allowed two of these openings a week, a ploy to win favour obviously – but an effective one.