#The Three way Deadlock

[consideredahazard]

Remember that time when the three-way deadlock was foreshadowed by a slot machine? Shizune is all like "You won, Lady Tsunade! You actually won!" and Tsunade is all like "......fuck"

[fireproofphoenix]

Kakashi in his first lesson with Sasuke: *holds out a blunt the size of a baby's arm* First off smoke this and calm tf down kid.

Jiraiya in his first real lesson with Naruto: *holds out a violently colored frog* So...you're gonna have to lick this.

Tsunade in her first lesson with Sakura: Kill on sight and be ethical with your use of drugs.

[tisslesu]

Sakura should've had mokuton/wood style too if only Kishimoto wasn't a fuckin coward

[keferon]

I stand by the belief that Drift/Deadlock and Hot Rod would be friends in any universe. Much to the terror of everyone else.

———————————————————————

Deadlock was loosing his mind.

Deadlocks face plates were starting to hurt from the strain of manually stopping himself from reflexively smiling. And why did he have an overwhelming compulsion to smile?

Because: This. Tiny. Minuscule. Absolute Fragging SPECK of a human was somehow radiating more emotion out of his EM field than any other mech that Deadlock has ever met in his life.

And what was that emotion?

"THIS IS THE COOLEST SHIT IVE EVER SEEN IN MY FUCKING LIFE!"

Joy. Pure. Unfiltered. Unrestrained. And completely unreasonable levels of joy.

"RATCHET. RATCHET. HE'S SO COOL."

The mini nuclear reactor was currently shaking the medic by the shoulders, practically vibrating with unspent energy. Seconds ago, Hot Rod had seemingly slagging materialized next to him in an explosion of emotion that damn near knocked Deadlock on his aft. He was currently tempted to swat the little fragger halfway across the hangar to escape the onslaught of unexpected emotions except-

Ratchet had personally brought him in. Even now, the medics field remained calm and collected in the face of what to Deadlock felt like a fragging Sun. He kinda envied humans field numbness right now because it was definitely starting to screw with his processor.

Case in point, Deadlock had to take a click to refocus on what the squishes were talking about.

"No fucking way. Really?!"

“Yes, he really did take down those three quints near the wind farm by himself. Ate one of 'em too.”

"YOU EAT THEM?!?"

Deadlock was expecting disgust, but instead all he could feel was overwhelming awe. His resolve to remain aloof and detached was quickly beginning to crumble before the blast furnace of Hot Rods personality.

A manual override finally failed and Deadlock broke into a wide grin. At least he kept his fangs on prominent display. Equal parts smile and threat.

"Drink, actually."

Deadlock made a conscious effort to take on a more relaxed posture, one that would convey predatory pride and confidence.

"Dude. Dude. Dude."

Hot Rod held his hands to his face, leg rapidly bouncing up and down.

"YOU'RE A FREAKING ROBOT VAMPIRE FROM OUTER SPACE?!"

Before Deadlock could ask what a vampire was, Hot Rod had begun jogging away while screaming incoherently.

"What. What is happening?" Deadlock leaned towards his human, listening to Hot Rod get fainter as he rounded the corner of the hangar.

"About what I expected.” Ratchet grumbled, setting his hands on his hips.

“Roddy is intense as they come but he’s a damn good pilot and an even better friend."

Ratchet pointed a finger at Deadlock.

"Don't tell him I said that."

Hot Rod had become almost inaudible by now but was slowly gaining volume again.

"Right now kid, it's just been you and I. And trust me I enjoy the arrangement. But we can't fight every battle by ourselves. Sometimes you just need help. Sometimes,"

The screaming was quickly gaining decibels.

“You just need a friend.”

A friend.

Huh.

The scarred, defensive, self preserving part of Deadlock protested the thought of being pried open any further. Ratchet had started the process. But, c'mon. It's Ratchet. He scolded his inner self. Ratchet always left things stronger then before. So, maybe. Just a little bit. Deadlock could at least see what was so great about this squishy human.

The screaming returned to its initial volume as Hot Rod rounded the corner and mech. They were pretty sure humans normally breathed more often than that?

Hot Rod came to a stop before the two of them.

Finally gasping in fresh air. His field was absolutely roiling, pretty much all positive emotions but the screaming lap around the building had clearly vented a lot of energy.

"Can you turn into a bat?!"

Deadlock reset his optics, an idea spreading across his processor as he finally let his Em field reciprocate with giddiness and mischief.

Who cares if it's sparkling behavior? It’s fun. He told the Deadlock part of himself.

"Nope. But do you want to know what I can turn into?"

Hot Rod nodded so fast Ratchet looked concerned.

Che-che-chu-klunk.

Hot Rod started screaming again.

This time when when his EM field hit Deadlock he took it all in and reflected it right back. He revved his engine so loudly it shook the windows. Hot Rod was running and jumping in a tight circle around the two of them, radiating Joy Joy Joy Joy. Deadlock swore his field was even effecting Ratchet at this point from the way happy seemed to bounce between the three of them in various shades.

"Can we go for a ride?!"

Hot Rod had stopped by Deadlocks passenger side door. Rapidly looking between Ratchet and Deadlock, clearly uncertain who's permission to ask for.

"Well Doc, do you trust us not to get into trouble?" He wriggled his tires.

"You two? Staying out of trouble? Hell no."

Ratchet rubbed his chin the way he always did when he was trying to stop himself from smiling.

"But as long as you both come back in one piece and before dark... Well I don't see the harm."

Hot Rod gave his loudest "WOOP!" Yet. A feat in it of itself. A scrambled into Deadlocks cabin, forgoing the door entirely to throw himself bodily through the window.

They tore away from Ratchets hangar with a chorus of thanks and a spray of gravel.

———————

It was well after dark by the time the duo rolled into Ratchets hangar. Hot Rod stumbled out into a semi controlled summersault that left him spread eagle on the floor, laughing and panting. While Deadlock smoothly transformed and promptly rolled flat on his back in a similar state of delirium.

They had so much fun. He had so much fun.

When was the last time he'd ever felt like that?

When had he ever felt like that?

Ratchet was upside down frowning at him. No, wait. Smiling.

Happy. Fondness. Proud.

Love.

Deadlock cleared his vents and put a hand over his spark before his chest plates could do something very stupid.

Ratchet turned to the hot mess on the floor.

"I got the couch set up for you. Figured you're gonna stay the night."

Hot Rod stuck his arms straight up, palms open.

"Woo, sleepover!"

His field had finally simmered down to something like coals. A bone deep exhaustion that made Deadlock feel heavy by proxy.

They both gracelessly shuffled onto their respective resting arrangements, Ratchet taking the recliner after dimming all the lights.

Soon enough, all three were in recharge or asleep.

———————

Deadlock started out of recharge with tightly trained silence.

Something was wrong.

Threatened. Stressed. Afraid.

Deadlock seemed dead to the world still. But internally, his systems quickly synced to kill. A skill he had honed over many millennia of unsafe homes and attempted assassinations.

What surprised him was how he already mentally mapped out how to maneuver the humans into the safest location in a fight. Deadlock finally onlined his optics, casting the hangar in an amber glow. His processor clicked and Deadlock realized what was triggering his fight response.

Threatened. Stressed. Afraid.

Hot Rod.

Limbs twisted in fabric, face buried in the crook of the couch. Posture contorted. Breathing uneven. Field pulled in so tight it felt suffocating.

Deadlock loosely knew what a nightmare was.

Ratchet got them sometimes, though he wouldn't admit it until Deadlock made it clear the lack of context was freaking him out a little.

The way Ratchet explained it was that it was essentially a way for the brain to process excess information. Basically the same as defrag but with some weird human side effects because of course there were weird human side effects.

Like whatever was currently happening to Hot Rod.

From previous experience, nudging Ratchet awake usually resulted in a snort or other cut of vocalization. But if there was anything Deadlock had learned it was that Hot Rod did not do anything quietly.

Ratchet was still sleeping on his recliner, but there was a subtle shifting and a pinch to his face. Not a nightmare, Deadlock had learned the pattern, but something was bothering the medic and it threatened to wake him from his much needed rest.

Help.

The wave of desperate emotion spilled out like an overfilled cup.

Right, Hod Rods EM field was freakishly strong. It was restrained for now but Deadlock dreaded what it’d feel like if the dam broke.

He watched Ratchet stir again and. . . Wait.

Could humans pick up on EM fields?

Can’t a deaf mech still feel the vibrations of a song? Couldn’t a blind one still feel the warmth of the sun?

What if?

Deadlock moved as silently as death. Cupping a servo over the pilot. He stopped restricting his field and focused.

Calm.

Hot Rod made another almost vocalization. Like he was trying to yell without enough air.

Calm. Deadlock tried again. Comforting anyone was so, so far from his normal area of expertise. Did he even know what calm was supposed to feel like? What safe was supposed to be? He wracked his memories as Deadlock and abandoned that immediately.

Calm. Safe. Ratchet.

Okay. Deadlock didn’t know how to comfort someone, but Ratchet did. He focused his field again, this time on trying to mimic what he always felt from Ratchet as closely as possible.

Care. Fondness.

Deadlock vented slowly. It felt hollow coming from him. The new field was there but it was weak. Unsupported. Deadlock worried his lip with a fang. Hot Rod simmered.

He vented slowly. Deadlock opened the box at the back of his mind named Drift. He knew what he needed. Everything else could stay but he needed this one feeling. Just one.

The stars were out over Dead End. A brown out had swept the area, leaving everything in the dark. Drift didn’t know the sky could look like that.

The others were gathered around in silent awe. Nobody dared to break the spell. Tomorrow, everything would suck again. Scraping money for the next meal, the next hit, the next chance to live just a little longer.

But for a few fleeting moments, Drift was okay. They were all okay. Because the circles of light around Cybertron said so.

Peace.

Drift let the feeling fill his field. Calm and fondness meant something again.

He thought of his time with Ratchet and Hot Rod. Finding something new in himself.

Protect.

It was like smoke clearing all at once. Hot Rod exhaled deeply in his sleep, field going soft and gentle.

He kept it up, at some point his engine had started purring without him knowing. A pleasant white noise within the hangar. They were okay. Everyone he cared about was okay. He felt peace. Just for now. Just for them.

“Didn’t know you could do that.”

Ratchets voice was thick with sleep. One eye barely cracked to look at him.

“Me too.”

—————————

Part 1

This is long and it’s getting late. Deadlock has an emotional breakthrough and Hot Rod dreams about I dunno, pancakes or something.

-SSTP

Infinitely entertained by the mental image of Ratchet trying to pick someone who he can trust but who will also get along with Kid. And then looking at Hot Rod and being like Yep. That one.

ALSO. Hot Rod having an EM field equivalent of a nuclear fucking reactor is just so👌👌👌 YES HE WOULD. ABSOLUTELY YES HAHAHKFNGM

I never get tired of reading about Roddy and Lock losing their last brain cells when they are together. Anon. Anon look at me. I LOVE YOU ANON. I WILL CHERISH THIS PIECE FOREVER IT BROUGHT ME THE UNMEASURABLE AMOUNT OF JOY THANK YOU FOR SHARING IT

[jubileeeeee]

Alrightyyyy soft launching my tf one au !! (Long post ahead)

Ive been dying to share this for a while so im deciding to just get it out there even if things change in the future. im still working on it a lot !

Im starting with drift bc hes the most developed thus far, in fact this started because I had an idea about drift as a scavenger on the surface and ran with it. Here he is !!

I reaaaally wanna go on a long ramble about how I designed each of these because i love doing that, but im gonna save it for a seperate post. In the meantime, some things about drift’s three major designs/life stages

- Yup transmasc drift . Just cus ! It doesnt matter in any real way I just thought it was fun

- Drift is a cogless miner who’s sector is well known for its cruel and brutal supervisor. Its been nicknamed “the dead end”. Miners reassigned there know they wont get any higher.

- He’s pessimistic and prone to arguments. He knows something’s wrong. All of this is wrong. He hates his supervisor, his work, the cogged bots, their society, he doesnt think any of it is right, but he cant do anything about it

- He feels powerless

- The only hope is Gasket. Optimistic, friendly, endlessly kind, Gasket does his best to keep morale up. He makes the sector a community, keeps everyone together and close and looking out for each other

- Drift and him are very close, Drift cant understand his optimism but chases his light and the hope it gives him

- Take a guess what happens to Gasket

- <3

- Drift joins the cons at the end of the movie. He needs change and trusts Megatron’s actions more than a new prime

- As deadlock, he gains status, reputation, authority. Hes devoted to the cause and cant deny the rush of battle. He likes to feel deadly and in control.

- Hes on a power trip

- And is starting to remind himself of his previous supervisor.

- He becomes disillusioned. This isnt resistance, this is warmongering. megatron isnt as great of a leader as he thought. hes inexperienced, naive, fueled by hate and fury. He doesnt know what the end goal is, he just wants destruction. Ratchet was right.

- He becomes anxious, unsure, withdrawn. He intimidates and threatens others to keep their eyes off of him.

- He is. Deathly afraid of other bots perceiving him as weak.

- He doesnt know what to do anymore

- Brooding brooding brooding

- After defecting from the decepticons, Deadlock, after a long journey, makes his way back to Iacon and is accepted into the autobots.

- He has a lot of regrets, mainly he feels that he didnt appreciate Gasket or Wing enough before they died. Now he makes sure not to take anything for granted

- Hes devoted to those who gave him another chance

- Terrified that hes going to let them down

- optimistic, hes taking everything he’s been taught and moving forward

- Hes building his own future now

This is just an introduction ! Actual story stuff will be shared via comics and drawings and rambles :)

[revelboo]

It’s never any fun when you’re sick more often than not! But it does lend itself towards having a very rich inner world—and I probably used up all my luck in life finding your writing, because it’s literally my fuel some days, lol. :)

Sooooo… about that sandbox fic where we can ask for some dream matchups… please please please make a shared sitch with Soundwave and Tarn — one where they aren’t fussed by sharing their human with each other (even at the same time, hell yes please!), but it’s a ‘closed loop’ where they won’t share with anyone else — as that’s *their* little human mate.

They’re probably my most fav sharing-pair-sandwich, although Soundwave & Perceptor, Sunstreaker & Deadlock, and Prowl & Barricade (as re-united twins) all definitely tweak my “two, eh?” curiosity. :D

Yes, please! DP mention, so implied fem bits. 🔞 mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Interludes Pt 2

Soundwave x Reader, Tarn x Reader

• “You ever think about trying it?” Tarn growls and Soundwave glances at him. The other mech’s expression as hidden behind his visor and battle mask as his own his. Unable to let go and move on. To adapt to this new reality. To have no purpose. Turning to survey the crowded dance floor, he spots three mechs with a little human trapped between them. The fitful strobes making it hard to tell who they are, their factions. Gets little flashes, though. Hands sliding on skin, that lower covering on the human shoved up and the pulse of a spike’s biolights. Fragging right on the floor apparently. It’s disgraceful and sordid. And he can’t look away. “For the good of Cybertron,” he adds, voice bitter. Because that’s the new rallying cry. Save their race. Bond with these weak aliens and repopulate.

• Venting as his optics slide away from Tarn’s masked face to find what has his attention, Soundwave rumbles. Knows they’re both coming here because it’s what’s expected. That they do their part. But he’s almost too sure that he’s not capable of adapting. Neither of them are. Both loyal to Megatron and his cause and this peace however uneasy feels like a betrayal. Watching one mech begin to move urgently against the human trapped in the middle of their little group, he stretches out a thought feeling like a voyuer as the chaos of the human’s need and pleasure almost swamps him. The little organics noisy. “For the good of Cybertron,” he says, pushing up from the table. Because he knows they both keep coming back here out of curiosity. “They don’t seem to mind being shared,” he adds and Tarn slowly shoves up, gesturing for him to take the lead. To at least give it a try.

• Sipping at your candy, sweet drink as you accidentally bump into a group and get an eyeful of one of the mass displaced Cybertronians holding up a human as another rails them and their third turns to give you a lazy once over, smiling in invitation. Face flushed, you stride deeper into the club. Because while you’d give anything to be sandwiched between two of them, you’re not okay with forming a line to jump on someone’s slick spike right after they slip free of their last partner. Snickering as you nurse your drink, someone steps into your path and you look up at a massive, intimidating mech wearing a mask. And his equally big buddy moves closer, visor brightening. Body heating, you decide that someone upstairs must really love you to gift you these two. “Looking to party?”

• Lips twitching behind his mask as you look up at them, so innocent and probably not having a clue who they are. What they’ve done. Are they just a conquest to you? An experience? Reaching out a hand, you lay yours in his palm with no hesitation. So eager to play. “If you don’t mind entertaining me and my companion?” He asks and you smile, before your little teeth sink into your bottom lip. ‘I’m game.’ Which is why Soundwave picked you. Leading you to the bar to get a room token, his servos wrap around not only your entire hand but your wrist. So fragile.

• Letting Tarn lead the way as Soundwave mines your emotions, catching flickers of quick images, your organic mind so chaotic. Fascinating. Apparently fantasizing about taking both of them at the same time. You’re going to be such a delight. Heading into the room, he slides his palm down your arm and you turn his way. Hands fisting in your top as you start stripping for them. “Tarn first,” he growls, giving you a nudge and you reach up to loop your arms around Tarn’s neck, fingers reaching for his mask and Soundwave catches your wrist. “That stays on.”

• Tarn. Still don’t know the other one’s name, but maybe he’ll let it slip. Tarn’s big hands palm your hips, lifting you and he’s freeing his spike against your belly. “Hi, Tarn,” you whisper, those red optics watching you as the other one moves up behind you, hands supporting your butt, and you feel his spike slide against the small of your back. Hear Tarn chuckle as he reaches up to cup your cheek, a servo sliding against your bottom lip and you latch on. See his optics flare when you curl your tongue around it and suck.

• Growling as his servo pops free of your soft mouth, he’s half tempted to see what else that mouth can do. “Soundwave is going to feel neglected,” he growls in your ear and your head turns as he lowers you to your feet and you turn, kneeling without hesitation. Reaching up to grip Soundwave’s spike, that soft mouth sliding against him. And Soundwave lowers himself to sit, servos tunneling into your hair with a groan as your mouth moves on him. Amused, Tarn kneels behind you and rocks himself against you, his optics shuttering at how slick you already are. Feeling you arch, breathily whimpering his name around Soundwave’s spike when he stretches you and sheaths himself in a slow drive. Understanding the fascination with humans now, because you’re so soft, slick and tight gripping his spike.

• Shuddering as you moan, head bobbing, you swallow his spike and it’s agony to not thrust into that wet mouth of yours, to not force you to take more of him. And Tarn’s gripping your hips, moving against you in hard drives. Servos brushing your hair from your face, those pretty eyes flick up to his face. Feels your tongue slide against the underside of his spike as you swallow a bit more of him.

• Whimpering when Tarn’s hips start pumping urgently against you, you’re drooling a bit trying to swallow Soundwave’s spike as he plays with your hair. And Tarn shifts his angle, rutting against you and you’re moaning around the spike in your mouth as Tarn drives you ruthlessly to that peak. Hips snapping against you as he snarls, servos digging into you when he overloads to fill you and Soundwave shudders. His own overload almost choking you bent you pull away and he slicks your front. “Fuck,” you whisper, trembling with your climax. Because they’re going to ruin you for other humans.

• You whimper when he slips free of you, intending to let Soundwave have a turn filling you. But to Tarn’s surprise, the other mech points at the bed and bends to hook an arm around your unresisting form. Easing down to sit on the bed with his legs hanging over the edge, he reaches to take you when Soundwave hands you to him and you’re straddling him. Doesn’t hesitate to pull you back down onto his spike with a growl. “You want both of us now?” Soundwave growls in your ear and you tighten on his spike, eyes slightly dazed when you look over your shoulder at Soundwave. ‘Yes, please,’ you whisper to make Tarn smile. Because you’re already exceeding his expectations. ‘Go slow, okay?’

• Mask retracting to brush his mouth against the back of your shoulder, Soundwave reaches around you to slide his servos through his excess on your skin, before pressing against you to encourage Tarn to lay back with you on top of him. And Soundwave slides his slick servos against you, finding you and pressing a servo inside you. Hears your breath catch and you’re going to be so tight. “Don’t break our new friend,” Tarn rumbles, servos kneading your hips. Pumping his servo inside you, before slipping it free, he grips his spike and guides himself to you. Your warm little mouth got him slick enough, but he still takes his time pressing against you, stretching you. “Relax for him,” Tarn admonishes and finally, the head of his spike pushes inside you and you moan.

• You’re no stranger to two at once, but they’re both bigger than anything you’ve ever taken and their restraint is a blessing. You’re so close already you might come before they even start moving just from the feel of being stretched so full. Tarn lazily tracing shapes on your hips as Soundwave rocks himself against you. Finding a rhythm and working his length inside you. Gasping, you squirm between them, feeling Tarn lazily rolling his own hips. Because if they just let loose and took you hard and fast, they’d probably hurt you. They’re letting you adjust to them even though they don’t have to. “We’re keeping you,” Soundwave snarls in your ear and you warm. Wanting to keep them, too. You’d come here for an experience and you’re going to enjoy it fully.

Previous

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[archie-sunshine]

TRANSFORMERS STRAGGLERS BELOVED ALREADY. Now's your chance to go off about what's going on with the decepticons over there

EEE THANK YOU!! and YES, FINALLY I CAN RAMBLE ABOUT THE DECEPTICONS!!

sO, as i've said, i'm not the most familiar with the combaticons. but in my research, what's come up the most is that onslaught is a plans guy, a habitual tactician, a danny ocean, etc etc.

and so I have given him leadership of this base of decepticons.

and an impossible challenge.

i'm giving onslaught a crisis of faith about his own ability to plan.

IM PUTTING A CUT BECAUSE THIS IS REALLY LONG BUT ENJOY!

If the autobots stationed at this outpost are disorganized, the decepticons are a mess. None of them are ready for the war to be over, none of them are ready to be STUCK HERE, none of them are ready to be at PEACE with the AUTOBOT SCUM they've been fighting against for almost YEARS NOW.

The general dynamic is that onslaught is really good at being the leader of the combaticons, but he is less good at being the leader of other bots outside of his team because he hasn't focused on building a rapport with any of them. The simple fact is that he assumed they would all be leaving this outpost soon enough, and so didn't bother to bridge the gap between his team members.

He butts heads often with deadlock- because deadlock hates taking orders- but his relationship with slipstream is even worse.

Slipstream is a stealth jet, she's a loner who prefers to just do her job and keep a low profile. She was given this job as an easier placement following a particularly bad failed espionage mission. She was told she would only be making strafing flights for surveillance purposes and occasionally assisting in basic maintenance or sabotage. And then the base received a trio of new seekers and Onslaught, not knowing seekers as well, made her their wing commander arbitrarily.

Those seekers were the rainmakers, a pack of codependant, antisocial, sadistic outlier experiments with incredibly poor social skills who immediately magnetized to her like a bunch of creepy cats. She hates all three of them so much, while they adore following her around and observing her (as in this continuity they're pretty fresh out of the test tube and have lacked any socialization outside of shockwave and being brought to battles.)

Deadlock on the other hand was kicked off of a more elite team by Megatron as punishment for killing his superior officer. He was previously a favourite assassin of Megatrons, and so Deadlock is now seething and holding a massive grudge against the warlord for not only banishing him, but then immediately rolling over and conceding the war right after. He's all knotted up with anger about everything that's going on, when of course, what should happen but the doctor that saved him reappearing!!

yes, yes, stragglers ratchlock real.

While the rest of the crew are bickering and raging about the war being over, Ambulon couldn't be more thrilled about it. He's one of the first on the decepticon side who really embraces the peace. He gets picked on frequently (mostly by the rainmakers, again, more about them to come) and sees his status as a decepticon as barring him from ever fully becoming a legitimate doctor. With the war over, he is the first that begins to mingle with the autobots by way of tutoring under ratchet, and commiserating with first aid.

The combaticons are also a complex lot, with each of them having their own despair surrounding the end of the war.

Vortex is aghast at the end of the fighting. He finds himself breaking into fits of destruction between long periods of apathy. Though he's mostly a character who is used for comedy here, he still struggles with feeling aimless and constantly bored without the war. He and whirl also have a mutually destructive pseudo 'friendship' where they beat the ever living shit out of each other for seemingly no reason.

Swindle is understandably distraught, seeing as his entire business as an arms dealer just went tits up on the cybertronian side. For much of the beginning of the story swindle would be refusing to leave his room, pitching a huge fit about everything being ruined. Eventually, he would be one to advocate for peace with the other base, if only for the financial opportunities it could present.

Brawl is arguably the least affected by the end of the war. He's not stupid, but he is simple, so he knows as long as his fellas are around he's going to be able to find work, and they'll probably just go back to being mercenaries. What really annoys brawl is more the fact that they're stuck here. he's usually the first to jump at an opportunity to fight, and is the one who objects the most when the group finally is forced to work with the autobots. It also goes without saying that he is fiercely loyal to Onslaught, and is usually the first to agree with his boss.

Blast off is conflicted. He is deeply enamoured with onslaught, and admires his leadership skills very much. He is Onslaught's second in command, and he holds that title proudly. He is reserved, and quiet, distant from his teammates despite being incredibly loyal to them. He struggles between feeling relieved that the war is over, and knowing his crew would likely all rather be fighting. He also struggles with a great deal of guilt, knowing that if he really wanted to, he could leave, but he'd be leaving his crew behind.

AND finally, ASTROTRAIN shows up a couple 'episodes in', crashlanding on their planet on his way back to cybertron. Immediately, the decepticons leap to help fix him up and try to brownnose to get him to give them a lift back home. HOWEVER, astrotrain has been doing a lot of thinking on his way back home. He's realizing how much of his life has been spent ferrying people around not getting any time for himself, just being a glorified taxi service for a load of ungrateful jerks....

and then he looks out at this beautiful quiet organic planet with a nice big energon vein, far off from cybertron and all his nagging bosses... and he goes.

"I quit. and im staying right here actually."

:D

BUT YEAH!! thats sort of the deal of all the cons right now, i'll update with drawings of all of them when i can!!

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 12

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

You had no choice. Newly orphaned with two acquired guardianship, on the brink of homelessness, you caved into desperation. You started to steal; pick-pocketing unsuspecting tourons and swiping valuables at island parties.

The latter is how you came across Aaron. He saw you stole from one of his clients and struck up a conversation. You thought you would be arrested, or done worse as retribution, but he gave you his number to contact. Said you could call him if you were strapped for some cash. When you learned more about him through JJ—and how Luke owed him money once, leading to a bad dispute that ended in the loss of his job and a black eye—you realized you were dealing with a bad guy.

The consensus was to stay away from Aaron because of his shady conduction of business and excessive use of violence. But you were in a deadlock. No one would offer you a loan because of your bad credit and you were on the cusp of losing your family's legacy. So, you did it.

Now, it's back to bite you in the ass. The reason why loan sharks are dangerous is their exorbitantly high interest rates and lack of regard for the law. If you're unable to pay them back within strict deadlines, they will double the initial amount you owe and go to extreme lengths to threaten friends and family for payback. It's a tactic that works best because you can't turn to the police.

When you finish your anecdote, the atmosphere falls into an eerily silence. You can hear the sound of a pin drop or the soft laughter of your sisters three doors down. You're perched on the end of Rafe's bed while he's leaning against his desk, back pressed against the counter, digesting your words.

Your throat feels dry. It wasn't even a long explanation but something about the way Rafe's watching you, his eyes never straying, and the lack of response afterward. You feel like you're burning under his gaze.

This must be how he felt when you were silent.

"Say something," you urge, voice smaller than intended. His eyes shift and observes the look on your face with an indiscernible expression.

"How much did you borrow?"

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before answering. "30K."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath, exhaling sharply. Guilt gnaws at your stomach and your eyes pinch with a wave of sodden emotions. This is one of the reasons why you hesitate to tell him; you don't want him to take your burden as his.

You sigh tightly. "I told you it's bad."

"Does this mean you owe him sixty grand now?"

"No." You shake your head. "I paid back ten."

The numbers still aren't optimal. "So forty then?"

"No," You blurt out, before retracting. "I think. I–I don't know. He hasn't contacted me..." You trail off, not wanting to imagine your debt doubled. If you had paid the required amount, as scripted in your contract, within the due date, you would've been fine. Now, you're in an ambiguous grey zone with no clear direction on where to go next.

"But when he does?"

You look up from your crestfallen gaze to find Rafe's jaw set, his eyes searching your face. Frustration rolls off his strong demeanor, and you take it as a sign of his irritation—at your negligence—that you can't help but feel obligated to alleviate the feeling. "It's fine." You say evenly. "I'll figure it out."

"It's not that." He declares roughly, pinching the bridge of his nose, and exhaling another deep breath. Recognizing his own turbulent emotions are flaring, he doesn't want to take it out on you. "I offered you money. We could've avoided this. At the start of our deal, I offered you—"

You cut him off. "I know."

His expression is sharp. "Then why didn't you take it?"

"I—" You draw in shaky breath, fingers grabbing at the sheets beneath you and tightening them into fists. "I had a plan."

"You had a plan?" Rafe repeats, his voice dripping with disbelief. While he's trying to be patient with you, he can't gauge how your mind works. How it's so set on an independent mode that now—even now—you seem to want to do it all alone. "Does it look like your plan is working?"

This time, it came harsher than he intended, and he wanted to take it back immediately but it was too late. His words were laced with a certain venom that spewed onto you.

But instead of being upset, your own anger erupts.

"Were you going to drop 20K for a couple of fake dates?" You snap, standing from your own seat. You knew what you had done was moronic and you can't take it back but you did have a plan. When Rafe doesn't give you a proper answer, you take his silence as complicity. "Exactly. It would've been stupid on your end and I would've never agreed to such a ridiculous deal. I've already made that mistake once."

He knows you just called him stupid, but Rafe can't stop the rising smile on his lips. In your scorn, you're almost back to your old self.

"Why are you smiling?" You cross your arms, attempting to maintain your level of authority, but his grin broadens. "Stop it."

"I miss you."

Your heart stutters and all your momentum drops. Rafe uses the opportunity to cross the small distance and capture your face in his palm and you lean into his touch, shoulders sagging. You can't believe you're reduced to putty in his hands.

Trying to regain some sense of control, you avert your gaze from his face, and both your palms flatten against his chest. "You're mean, Rafe."

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, running the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. "What was your plan?"

Part of you didn't want to tell him, to withhold the information, but when he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, the earnest look behind them shatters that desire. With your heart leaping in your throat, you explain slowly. "When you get Cameron Development, the plan was that I was gonna get a steady income as your regular caterer. Therefore, when payments were due, I would have a reliable source of income."

His breath hitches at the implication behind your words. Rafe's expression hardens. "That's dependent on me getting the company."

You keep his gaze. "I know."

"You based your entire plan on me?"

You can't exactly decipher the tone behind his sentence, and you feel the need to lower your gaze to his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt. You mumble, "You make it sound like it's stupid."

"It's not—" He grabs your chin again, forcing your gaze up to his. Your eyes are soft and big, while his darkened one scans your face, trying to read your intent. He asks lowly, "You believe in me that much?"

Your voice is gentle when you answer. "Of course."

His heart sings. Rafe can't believe what he's hearing, or rather what he's not. It's the same subtle underlying language he's used to translating; the unspoken. Your entire plan is contingent on his success. That means your trust in him started since the beginning of our arrangement.

He never had someone who had that much faith in him that they would bet it all. It's an indescribable feeling, that's first met with doubt, before transforming into something else. To know someone is always in his corner, always rooting for his success, always believing in him.

Fuck.

He's in love with you.

His eyes stray to your lips and the urge to kiss you overwhelms him. His actions have always been better at demonstrating his emotions than his words ever can. But he resists with a couple of measured breaths. Then, he nods once. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

You're in a dazed state. "We?"

He doesn't want you to think you have to do this all alone. You have him now. "Yeah, but later. I can't focus right now."

Before you can seek clarification, his other hand cradles your cheek and Rafe slams his lips onto yours.

It catches you by surprise and a small moan slips out that Rafe swallows. He wants you. Mind, body, and soul. All of it—the taste of you, the feeling of your skin on his, your words against the column of his throat. He wants to feel you writhing beneath him with pleasure, to save all your best memories for him, and to know that you're completely and unequivocally his.

Rafe parts, just a breath of distance, and whispers against your swollen lips. "God, I miss you."

Your fingers thread through his hair. "I've been here."

His eyes are hungry. "Not what I meant."

He silences any reaction by resuming the kiss, forcing you backward against the bed, and your back lands on the mattress with a soft thump. Rafe hovers over you, his weight pressed comfortably against your body while he kisses you like a starved man.

Even if you don't say it, you missed him too. The feeling of him against you, your heart meeting his at precise beats. When Rafe moves to plant kisses along the curve of your neck, a small whine escapes you. You want to feel his lips on yours, to feel his warmth on your tongue, but he wants to satisfy every inch of you.

His hand starts to caress the hem of your shirt—his shirt—pushing up the fabric to reveal more of your exposed stomach to your bare breasts. With little words spoken, like a coordinated dance, you move enough for Rafe to pull the material completely off of you.

"Shit," he swears, taking a moment to take you in, "I'm never going to get used to this." Then, he descends to your nipples and captures one between his teeth.

You let out another moan, feeling his tongue swirl around your sensitive bud, clashing with the metal barbell. Your legs spread wider, allowing Rafe to slot between your thighs. The boxers he let you borrow are thin, and you feel his hardened erection rocking against your heated core.

Your fingers find the button of his jeans. "Rafe," you whisper, aching with desire. "I need this off."

"Need, huh?" He teases, his hot breath fans against the valley of your breasts and you shiver. "Tell me how much you need me, baby."

He wants to hear it all. Even if it's fake, even if it's just dirty talk spoken during sex. For a brief, fleeting moment, he wants to pretend you need him as much as he needs you.

You draw your hands up to cup either side of his face, forcing him off your tits and tilting his gaze to yours. "Rafe Cameron, I need you inside me. Badly."

Hearing the desperation behind your voice—and his name rolling off your tongue, Rafe removes his clothes and helps you out of yours. Before you have the chance to say anything else, Rafe's fingers are between your folds, spreading them apart, and a sound of satisfaction is heard from the back of his throat. "God, you're wet."

You are. Your arousal coats his digits, and with a slow stroke of his hand, your hips buck into his palm that rest against your clit.

"Rafe," you whine, knowing he's toying with you. His fingers stroke your pussy, but not enough pressure to give rise to your climax. "Inside, please. I'll be so good."

He grins and retracts his hand. When he lines his swollen cock against your entrance, he pauses for a moment. Rafe's eyes connect with yours. "Did you take your pill?"

When Rafe went out this early morning, with your sisters, he went to the pharmacy to pick up some birth control for you. It currently sits on his desk, opened and with one missing tablet. "I did."

"Good, I need to feel all of you."

Without another word, he thrusts into you, causing your back to arch off the mattress.

Rafe doesn't go hard and fast like normal but instead bends forward to capture your lips against his teeth. Your heart is hammering in your chest regardless, the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, the way he fills you—like a puzzle finding its missing piece—makes your head spin.

"Feel so fucking good," he whispers against your heated skin, his hand reaching out to take yours, intertwining with your fingers. "Can't believe I almost lost this."

You can't believe it either, but you couldn't say it. Rafe angles himself where his cock hits right against your cervix, causing your head to tip back and dig into the sheets, moaning wildly at the pleasure. Rafe easily kisses you to swallow the noise of your open mouth, reminding you that your sisters are just a couple of doors over.

You should care. You really should. But you don't. You need him. Closer. Harder. Faster. Your legs wrap around his torso, trapping him. "Need you," you whimper, as each thrust grows more choppy. "Need you so fucking bad, Rafe."

He can't control himself. Removing his constraint of trying to keep it sentimental, to keep it sweet. He loves how desperate you need him. How rough you want it. His pace quickens with the rut of his hips, and you feel the familiar white-hot pleasure searing through your body, climaxing.

"More," you beg, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers clawing against his back muscles. You're removing all the space between him and you, until there's nothing but skin-on-skin. "Please, more."

"Baby, I'll give you everything," he grunts breathily, scraping his teeth against the curve of your neck, hitting a sensitive spot that leaves you whining. "Everything and more if you'd let me."

Something about his words twists inside you and you come hard. Rafe feels you clenching around him, so tight, that it causes him to slow his thrust but the pleasure is unbearable. Easily, he follows after, coming inside you with the familiar hot cum filling you up.

Rafe lands on top of you, careful not to crush you under his weight. You welcome it, nonetheless, liking the way he presses against you. Both your breaths are heavy, clambering to catch up on missing air, and Rafe's still inside you. You like that too.

Your hands are still intertwined, and you're the first to retract from the hold to place your warm palm against the side of his profile, causing his head to lift to meet your gaze. He's settled between the valley of your breasts, his stubble tickling your skin, and you take the moment to lean forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

It feels sentimental. Vulnerable. Almost too real.

"Okay, now get off," you say jokingly, undercutting the tension in the room. Rafe scoffs but listens, rolling off, slipping out of you. The loss of him makes you frown, but you quickly wipe away the expression as you turn on your side, facing him.

Rafe studies you. This time, the sex felt different. More. He'll never say it, in fear of it scaring you away, but he truly never felt as vulnerable as he did moments ago when he was inside you. The memories flooding through him could easily get him hard again, but he tries to distract himself, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers.

You smile softly, noting how mesmerized he is with your hair. Of the color and the texture. It draws you into your thoughts, and you're suddenly reminded of a question that's been stuck in your head for the past twenty-four hours.

You say his name, causing him to stop and look at you. "Why were you with Leila the other night?"

"She called me." He answers truthfully, and before you can question him further, he adds. "I was coming over anyways."

This surprises you. "You were?"

"Couldn't leave you like that."

"You didn't stop me."

"I know, I fucked that up," Rafe admits, eyes scanning over your face, trying to express his sincerity.

You study him, recognizing his truth, but you still have some doubts. Another question about your relationship hangs in the air, and as your lips part, Rafe recognizes the question before you even have the chance to ask.

"We're not broken up."

A sense of relief fills you, but there's also the remnant of heartache.

Your voice is soft. "I said a break."

"We're not doing that either."

You don't know if you can separate from him. You don't know if you want to. But you wanted this extra layer of protection, just in case. "If you were worried, I was still committed to doing all the things you needed with Ward—"

"I don't care." He sharply cuts you off. "If someone asks you who you're with, don't answer that it's complicated. It's not. You're with me, got it?"

He's addressing the moment when Kelce asked if you were in a relationship with Rafe and you answered vaguely. It must've been stuck in his mind. Rafe never set perimeters on who knows the truth behind your little farce, only that his father remains oblivious, but you guess it also extends to the rest of the Kook public.

You don't answer him, not wanting to taint the aftermath of good sex with discussions about logistics and labels. You want to enjoy the fleeting moment, even if it's all you get.

Rafe sees your silence and softens his voice. His hand cups the side of your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "You're mine, you know that?"

You do, but you don't think it's in the way Rafe realizes. The lines are so blurred, you don't know what's real or fake anymore. You don't know if this is a sentiment shared during intimacy or a parade with the public, or if he does want you. Asking for clarification has burned you twice and you'd rather not put yourself in that situation again.

You're silently asking Rafe to tell you more. To give you more words. To speak. If he reveals that he has feelings for you, telling you he wants you—truly wants you—beyond this arrangement, you would be his. All his.

But Rafe's never been the one to willingly talk and reveal things. You have to break an arm and a leg for him to consider giving you the time of day. You rather not break your heart too.

A banging on the locked bedroom door absolutes you from answering him. "Rafey!" Amara screams from the hallway, "You promised you'd see my dress!"

"Dress?" You turn away from the door. "What dress?"

Rafe says nothing, but the small smirk on his face reveals everything. "Rafe. What did you get them?"

You didn't go with your sisters on their early morning excursion with Rafe. You were too tired and were catching up on sleep. When you woke up, they were already back and had been gleefully locked away in the guest bedroom the entire afternoon.

"Don't worry about it."

Rafe slips off the bed and gets redressed while you watch. You admire the planes and ridges of his chest, and when he finishes, he picks your clothes off the floor and throws them at you, telling you to get up too.

You do, and after you're no longer bared and exposed on his king-sized bed, Rafe unlocks the door to reveal an impatient Amara standing behind the door. She's carrying a foreign doll between your arms; something handmade and name-branded, something she definitely didn't have before.

"Rafe..." You warn lowly, but it lacks the critical threat behind its tone. He just grins at your attempt, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of his bedroom. Amara leads you to the living room, where the registration of how much Rafe bought your sisters comes to light.

Scatters of large shopping bags, of various shops and boutiques you never heard the name of, litter across the floor. Leilani is sitting on one of the couches, messing with something in her hands. A phone. Amara’s ruffling through one of the bags, trying to find her dress.

You turn back to Rafe. "You got to be kidding."

"Just because you won't let me buy you nice things doesn't mean you should deprive your sisters of that opportunity," Rafe shrugs, taking a seat on the closest couch, and tugging you along. There's plenty of room on the cushioned chair, but Rafe decides to pull you onto his lap.

You don't even mind; you like your spot on his lap. His arm lazily wraps around your waist while your legs dangle off the side. While Amara recruited Leila along to search for their dresses—because they have that much stuff—Rafe playfully bites your exposed shoulder.

Finally finding their princess gowns and diamond tiaras, Amara grabs Leilani's hand and drags her off to the nearest bathroom. They're giggling while they skip away, bouncing on their feet, behaving the exact opposite of what you expected them to be after a traumatic experience.

"They're happy."

"Of course they are." He scoffs, "We spent the entire morning ransacking every store downtown, buying everything they set their eyes on."

You chuckle softly, and gratitude passes through you. "You didn't have to do that."

"Nah, I had to," Rafe slides you closer. "Got to stay on their good side, you know?"

You shake your head, hiding a smile. The sound of a door opening is heard and you turn to the source of the sound, expecting to see your sisters return with their costumes, but instead find the sudden appearance of Sarah Cameron standing in the middle of the foyer.

"Sarah." Rafe stiffens under you, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"It's my house, Rafe," She says with the roll of her eyes.

"It hasn't been your house since you ran away three months ago," he snaps, a hardness to his words. "Where's your Pogue boyfriend now?"

She ignores her brother, shifting her attention to you. "Who are you?"

You feel like you're caught in the crossfire of their rivalry. Before you get the chance to answer, Rafe cuts in for you.

"She's my girlfriend," Rafe sneers, his arm tightening around your waist. "Which is none of your business."

"Gee, Rafe, really a great welcome home party," Sarah says sarcastically, adjusting the large bag over her shoulders, which you presumed is stuffed with her things. She looks back at you. "You're the Pogue my dad mentioned, right? The one who owns the bar near the docks?"

Something about the Cameron siblings minimizing you to a social class. Nonetheless, you nod. "Cool. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry you have to deal with that one," she points to her brother, who's shooting daggers at his little sister. She ignores the look. "Well, I hope you had a good... shopping trip. I'm going to go unpack."

Before you have a chance to correct her, she walks away, and Rafe shouts after her. "Don't unload too much, just in case you wanna run away again," he reminds, to which Sarah responds with a flip of her middle finger, turning onto the stairwell and disappearing.

You don't know how to deal with a Rafe post-Sarah, especially because you've heard of his long-winded rambles about the golden child. You don't even want to step into it, because what Rafe feels for his younger sister is none of your business. It's his complicated family. You can't fix that.

Instead, you pull him back to Earth, turning his head away and tilting his gaze back onto you. His heated eyes, darkened and full of resentment and anger, soften upon meeting yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Leaning into him, the both of you say nothing, doing nothing, until Amara and Leilani emerge from the dressing room with glamorous princess gowns and a crown over their head. Then, they did a little show for you.

The moments spent with you make him forget about his issue with his sister. With her return and what it means to the company. Who earns in favor with their father. 

She’ll be a problem for another day. 

Not realizing how true those words will be. 

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Navigation — Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

[cindytranart]

Team 7 is back again‼️ (Art Print)

Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke three-way deadlock summoning jutsu

[coffeefiction]

Here's more incorrect qoutes for @keferon mecha Au to fuel everyone's angsty soul.

First Aid: Can you come out?

Blurr: Yeah sure, give me a sec..

Blurr: First Aid, I'm gay

First: *visible twitching* I already know that, come out to the car

Blurr: oh..ok

Blurr: Swerve I'm gay

Swerve who is currently on his alt mode: We are literally dating!

________________

Prowl; You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you all even get here so fast?

Jazz: Several traffic lights

Swerve: Three counts of resisting arrest, one for each of us

Blurr: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks

Jazz: and that is not our car.

Deadlock who is the car: Hey Prowl

Prowl: what the frag?!

__________________

Rodimus: Isn't it weird that people kill mosquitoes just because they're annoying?

First Aid: Damn, if people did that to each other, Vortex would've killed everyone years ago.

__________________

Someone holding a gun to First Aid's head; what happens if I pull this trigger? Heaven?

First Aid: Bold of you to assume I'll go to heaven.

_________________

Jazz: you know, Prowl, when you generalize, you tell general...lies.

Prowl: ......

Prowl: Are you trying to teach me moral lesson through puns?

________________

Swerve to Blurr: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Jazz from the kitchen: would you like to stay forever!?!

_________________

Jazz: Wow, this parking is as straight as I am

Swerve first time driving an actual car: I know I should be more focus on the fact you just came out, but HOW FUCKING DARE YOU INSULT MY PARKING

_________________

Swerve: *Sneaking around the facility trying to get to Blurr*

First Aid from the distance who's high on the shit Pharma gaved him: *Watching Swerve phase through a wall* There goes my monthly does of Swerve

_______________

Prowl: Are you crying?

Jazz, try to cut onions: No, it's just the onion, they-

Prowl grabbing the Onion with force: What the frag did you say to Jazz?

[wsoc-gay]

World Cup Results

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: It seems as though you and Ona make big decisions after big matches.

(This was originally going to be longer, but then it became too long. So, instead, I am breaking it into two parts, second will be out soon.)

You and Ona had met during her time playing at Manchester United while you were still at Arsenal. Arsenal was your childhood club you had made your way through the youth system until you finally made your full-team debut at 16. As growing through the Arsenal ranks you also were an up-and-coming player in the England youth system making your international debut at just 17. 

You met Ona when you were 18 after she had first arrived to United, one of your best friends from the National team, Alessia, introduced you two after a match. From that day forward you two were nearly inseparable. For your years in England, it was a relationship full of afternoon drives after training and early morning goodbyes to be back to London in time for the next, but nevertheless you two did it because you truly fell for each other fast.

It was three years later that Ona decided she wanted to return to Barcelona, she wanted you to come with her, but you were hesitant at first. Your whole life was in London all you ever knew was Arsenal, but also you two weren’t public and you weren’t sure about the swarm that would come from it. Your families and friends knew about your relationship, but with how young you both were you wanted to keep it out of the spotlight, you didn’t want the media focused on your relationship over your football. However, after a year of playing in two different countries you decided you had enough a followed her to her home.

You were one of the best players in the world at the time, so it did not take a lot for you to get a contract from the Catalonian club. While you still weren’t saying anything about your relationship to the public fans quickly started to notice the undeniable connection between you two, the walks into matches, the looks during training, Ona always being your first hug after scoring, and everything in between. You slowly started to be less secretive about your relationship until the only thing keeping fans from knowing you were dating was a kissng photo. 

It now was the 2027 World Cup final; you and Ona had been together for 7 years and were now meeting for the second time in a World Cup Final. You hugged and placed a kiss on the short Spaniard’s temple during the prematch pitch inspections, but then went on your way as you both were here for business.

You scored early into the match, just a mere 15 minutes in is when you broke the deadlock. It was a brilliant through ball from Kiera that you were able to calmly finish past Cata, you immediately ran towards the corner flag to celebrate in front of your country’s fans as your teammates chased after you.

It wasn’t long after that Aitana scored the tying goal and brought the game even going into halftime. The speeches weren’t long, both teams knew what they had to do going into the second half. It was tight for the majority of second half, Spain doing what they do well and passing around your team, but you and Kiera used what you’ve learned there to hold them. 

It was the 87th minute that La Reina, herself, scored the winner for Spain. The English team and fans could do nothing but tip their hats to the Spanish captain as it truly was the perfect goal to win a World Cup with, a beautiful passing display starting with their backline which found their captain sitting alone at the top of the box and hit a first time shot perfectly into the top corner. 

As soon as the whistle blew you fell to the ground with your head in your hands sobbing, severely disappointed for now the second time. So close to being on top of the world but failing right at the summit. 

Ona knew better than to come comfort you right away, in the years of you playing together and against she learned that more than comfort at first you simply needed time to yourself. If she were to come over to you now you would’ve just shoved her away and told her to go celebrate. 

It was after the medal ceremonies when she came and found you sitting on the turf knees tucked tight against your chest. She sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you against her chest, “I’m so proud of you, mi amor,” She kissed your head.

Whenever you lost to the brunette, she always followed it up with this comment. She knew better than to apologize for winning as you would never take this from her. You let out a light chuckle, clearly still emotional, “Still can’t quite beat you, can I?”

Ona let out a breath when she heard you laugh, she was hoping to lighten the mood a bit, but didn’t expect for your comment to be the one that did it, “You’ll get to try again in four years, don’t worry.”

You sat up straight and turned so that you were facing he Spaniard, “You know if I can’t win them, I’m glad you’re the one beating me.”

She smiled and her cheeks reddened slightly at the comment. It was true if you weren’t the one winning you were glad the love of your life got to accomplish what was both of your dreams, “I take home the World Cup medals you bring home the Ballon D’ors.”

You laughed again, “I’ll see what I can do about that.” At just 26 years old you had won the last two Ballon D’ors, but you knew as well as anyone that after a World Cup year it would almost inevitably go to one of the winners.

“I think I know what could make you feel better,” You gave her a suggestive look, she leaned into whisper in your ear, “Vamos a tener un bebé.”

You couldn’t believe what you just heard and leaned back in shock, “What did you just say?”

Louder and in English this time, “Let’s have a baby.” 

The comment was dropped slightly to the Spaniard’s own surprise. She wasn’t expecting to say it at this time, but she had been thinking it for a while now. It slipped out in the moment of pure joy for her, and she couldn’t imagine a time better than coming off a World Cup win to start their family.

The topic has come up many times throughout your relationship, but always ended on saying that it was something for the future. Ona knew she wanted to carry for you both, but you always settled that it was something for the future, you didn’t want to interrupt the Spaniard’s career. However, there simply was nothing more than either of you wanted than to have a family one day, to get to see your love encompassed into a family. Both of yours love for family was one of the reasons you first fell in love, nothing came before family for either of you and that would one day include a family of your own. 

The conversation on the field quickly was pushed aside as you joined Ona and some of her Spanish teammates on their post-World Cup holiday. It was a vacation full of boats, sun, and many, many, drinks. You all had all agreed it was one of the nicest holidays and breaks from football you had in a while.

After returning from you holiday you both returned to your normal lives of training and preparing for matches. The topic still hadn’t been brought back up until one day after returning from training you noticed Ona was a bit quieter than usual at dinner.

“Is there something bothering you, mi amor? You’re quieter than usual.”

 “No, nothing is wrong,” Ona looked down at her plate as she spoke, in the tone reserved for when she was upset over something. It was quiet, slower, and slightly sharper causing her accent to come through a bit more in her English words.

“Babe, I can tell something is wrong, please tell me,” You were nearly pleading with her now, as your eyes searched her expressions for any details and as your mind raced through the contents of your day in efforts to find what had upset the short brunette.

She continued to look down at her plate, “It’s nothing I promise.”

Ona stood up from the table and collected the plates before walking into the kitchen and over to the sink. She began washing the dishes as you followed her to the kitchen. You stood a few feet away leaning against the counter, you didn’t want to startle the smaller girl by touching her, “Talk to me please, I want to help.”

She kept her focus on washing the dishes and spoke softly as if she was worried for your response, “I just thought we would talk about starting a family soon, but you don’t seem like you want to.”

Ona didn’t look towards you, but saw you freeze as soon as the words left her mouth. She was worried about your response so continued cleaning the dishes as if she hadn’t just dropped the one thing that hadn’t left your mind since the final. 

You walked over to her and gently reached for her chin to turn the Spaniard to face you, “What did you just say?” You said hushed, but sternly.

Ona’s cheeks flushed under your hand, “It’s just that you seemed excited at the final when I brought up having a baby, but you haven’t mentioned it since and I seriously meant it,” She began rambling when you suddenly cut her off with a soft kiss to her lips.

You leaned back slightly enough that she still felt your breath against her lips, “Sounds like were going to have a baby then.”

The shorter woman placed a hand against her chest and leaned back slightly with a big smile plastered against her face. Your free hand found its spot wrapped around her waist you hold her upright, “Really? You want to have a baby?”

You moved your hand holding her chin to the small of her back and pulled her flush against you, “Of course I want to have a baby with you, I didn’t want to bring it up because I didn’t want it to seem like I was pushing you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to put your career on hold for this.”

Ona’s hands found their place around your neck as she leaned into place a kiss to your cheek, “I don’t want to tell our kids stories of us playing, I want them to be able to be there, to be able to experience it themselves.”

You leaned in to passionately kiss her then pulled away with a gleaming smile, “Sounds like were going to have a baby then.”

You began the reciprocal IVF process almost immediately, both of you getting tested and screened to make sure that you both were in good enough health to begin the process. These thankfully all came back with positive results allowing for you to continue forward. 

There was worry and stress looming throughout your house during the early stages of the process. Many nights spent talking through fears and uncomfortable conversations which always ended in you both feeling more optimistic and hopeful.

Ona was there to hold your hand for every injection you took, and you were helping her with everything in the house to give her as little stress as possible. For every appointment she had you were sat right there next to her just as she did for you. You both knew that no matter what you were there for each other, and you’d be okay.

The egg retrieval day was stressful, you were worried about the procedure and weren’t quite fully sure what to expect, but as always Ona was right there for you calming you down as your leg bounced in the waiting room. Once you were in the room and the doctor walked you through what would happen you were much less stressed and more excited than ever to get further in the process.

After the first implantation you had to wait two weeks for the blood test to find out if it had stuck. It was a very anxious two weeks for you two full of trying to find ways to distract yourselves, and of Ona claiming she had symptoms even though you both knew it was too early for that. 

On the fourteenth day you were sat in the waiting room with your knee bouncing like there was no tomorrow. You wanted to be strong for Ona, but you knew you both were just as nervous as one another. The Spaniard was brough back alone at first to get the blood draw, but then was led to the room where you’d wait for the doctor.

Once you were brought back into the room you walked beside the bed your girlfriend laid on and took a hold of her hand. 

You brough the back of her hand to your lips to lay a kiss before you stood to look at her, “If we don’t get the news, we’re hoping for we’ll be okay. I’m still so proud of you and it won’t be your fault.”

Ona had a slight pout on her face and looked up at you with those deep brown eyes you had fallen in love with all those years ago, “I really hope it worked.”

You let up a small smile at her as you leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, “Me too baby, but it’s rare it sticks on the first try. We’ll be okay no matter what, we can try again whenever you’re ready if we have too.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you-”

You cut her off before she could finish, “You could never disappoint me, mi amor. I love you no matter what and I’m right here through it all.”

You both felt like you were drowning under the weight of the anxiety in the room but knew that no matter what either of you would say in that moment nothing could quite calm the nerves you both were feeling. 

You could’ve sworn time had never moved slower, as you stood there waiting for the doctor. There were so many times in your life, on and off the pitch, that you have wished to be able to freeze time and stay in those moments forever, but now more than ever you wished time would pass by sooner. You both wished to escape the anxious feeling deep in your bodies and for the doctor to come in and tell you the words you’ve been awaiting since beginning the process.

You were beginning to zone out, imagining a future with Ona and your family, when suddenly a slight knock on the door led in a woman dressed in a white coat holding a folder, with what you assumed were the results.

You were stood there trying to read the expressionless face of the doctor standing before you, trying to gauge any sense of what she was about to tell you both. “Are you both ready?”

Ona looked up at you, “God, I don’t know if I’m ready.”

You moved your hand to rub it along the side of Ona’s face when the doctor spoke again, “Trust me you want to know.”

Ona’s head whipped around back to the doctor, you swear she could’ve gotten whiplash, “What?”

“Congratulations, you’re officially two weeks pregnant.”

Ona collapsed back onto the bed as tears immediately filled both of your eyes. You had a hand covering your shocked expression, and Ona had one covering her tearful eyes. 

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple, “You did it, mi amor, we’re going to have a baby,” You whispered through tears.

She looked up at you with matching tear-filled eyes, “Lo hicimos, hay un bebé ahí adentro,” You hand found its place on the side of her face as the other one still hasn’t let up its grip on her hand. 

Once you both were recovered enough to refocus on the doctor, she explained further into what expect for the coming weeks and advice on keeping Ona as healthy as possible for the baby.

You listened as closely as possible as you knew you were going to do everything you could for them both, starting now.

[woradat]

2 Road 1 Together

SUMMARY - you float around in space like it's your home, and the exosphere is your backyard. The one that he have passed through twice, two times passed, two times met at different times

PAIRING - drift x reader, deadlock x reader (mostly)

Wandering through space with no rules, no map, and absolutely no idea what counts as "dangerously close to death" or "might get shot down just for blinking wrong"—now that’s your style.All you need is a curious cluster of stars, a planet with an unscanned surface, and a weird energy signature that makes your gut go: “Yep, I wanna poke that"

You’re the kind of curious that’s probably going to get you killed one day—or any minute now, actually. But hey, you’re still here, right? If the universe wanted you gone, it would've tossed you into a black hole eons ago. But no, you're still out here—vibing, floating, sipping lukewarm energon, and flirting with fate like it's an ex you never really broke up with

So, of course, you turned toward it

Like always and of course, you really shouldn't have

That was the first warning—the radar pinged something it couldn’t categorize, just before it cut out completely from interference that wasn't in any of your logs. You blinked slowly at the screen while your ship’s front cam caught it: a gleam of black and silver slicing through the void like a shark in deep water. Yeah, that’s not a meteor

You leaned back in your pilot seat, cradling your half-empty metal mug of slightly-warm energon, eyes narrowing from the star-glare bouncing off some uncharted, no-name rock in the distance “…Well, hello there, flying corpse” you muttered, flicking the comms open just as a voice came through—deep, stern, and not particularly in the mood for jokes

“Identify yourself. Unaligned vessel. You are trespassing in Decepticon patrol territory"

You made a face—not because you were scared, but because the word Decepticon always made your energon taste a little like regret

“Chill. Do you guys always open with that?” you replied casually, swirling your mug

“I’m not here to pick a fight. I just got… wildly off-track. As one does”

There was a pause

You half expected lasers, half expected dead air.Instead, your screen lit up—someone patched through the visual. And the face you saw? Yeah, that definitely wasn’t some border grunt, sharp frame, red optics that looked like they wanted to extract your spark and write your sins on it in high-grade. His face was so calm it was actually unsettling, like he’d done way worse than kill people and still didn’t lose sleep. You could practically see dried oil on his plating—except you had the feeling it wasn’t always oil

“I am Deadlock” he said coldly “Who are you? And who owns that ship?”

You smiled, shifting in your seat like you weren’t very much sitting under a Decepticon fleet’s laser sight

“Ship’s mine. Bought it used—nameless rock, three months ago. Total steal. As for me…” you lifted your mug for a sip, real slow “...do we ask names before killing now? Kinda kinky, but alright. I’m no threat. Ship doesn’t even have weapons"

Another long pause

“Land your vessel at the coordinates. Sent”

“Copy that, scary-voice”

—

The planet's surface was dry, dusty, and iron-flavored. You landed inside a neat little circle marked with a big ol' Decepticon symbol—like a passive-aggressive welcome mat that said “Congrats, you didn’t get shot. Yet” The ship door hadn’t even fully opened before something banged hard against the outer hull

“Exit the ship. Slowly” You did. Hands up. Easy smile. Totally unarmed. You scanned your surroundings—three figures, but only one stepped close enough to make your instincts twitch

Him

Deadlock stood tall, all hard lines and silent threats. His plating was scratched, weathered, and battle-worn—less a bot, more a weapon with legs. Red optics, still sharp, still watching like they could slice through lies with a blink. Every part of him screamed danger. Your processor finally caught up and flashed his stats across your HUD

DEADLOCK

CLASS: ENFORCER / SIC

STATUS: ACTIVE – TURMOIL UNIT

You swallowed. Great. Out of all the possible space-gremlins you could have annoyed today, you picked the tall, deadly, not-even-bothering-with-a-gun guy

But, hey. You’ve danced with worse. Probable

“I ask again” he said, voice like a warning shot “Why did you enter this sector?”

“I didn’t know it was your sector" you shrugged, hands still up “I saw an energy spike. Looked interesting. So I checked it out. That’s kinda… my thing"

“Lying?” he said flatly

"Exploring” you replied with a grin “Freelancer. No allegiances. No interest in your war. I’d offer to let you search the ship, but honestly, I’d rather you didn’t rifle through my underwear drawer”

He stepped closer. Way closer than was reasonable unless you had a death wish—or you were him. For a second, he said nothing. Then he turned to his subordinates

“Return to base. I’ll handle this one"

You blinked “..Ohhh, so that’s how this day’s going..”

.

.

The light from an unfamiliar sun stretched long across the ochre stone, painting shadows like veins on the broken skin of a dying world. The ground was cracked, breathless—as if the planet itself had exhaled its last—and in that breathless silence, only the sound of metal kissed the gravel underfoot

Deadlock moved slowly, every step deliberate, the rhythm of a ghost not yet ready to stop haunting

He was approaching you

And you—

You were seated beneath a jagged outcrop of native rock, its harsh form worn smooth by time, your back resting against its flank like you belonged there. Like you'd always belonged in the quiet places that war forgot

Your gaze was tilted to the sky, distant and full of wonder, like an astronomer from myth tracing constellations no one else remembered.

There was no tension in your frame, no fear, no urgency

Only that soft stillness of someone who had long since stopped expecting answers from the universe—and had begun, instead, to listen. One hand moved through the air, slow and unhurried, drawing symbols only you could see—delicate arcs, invisible lines, like mapping a star’s secret trajectory across your mind, the way a poet might write with light

“You can’t leave” His voice broke the silence like a blade slipping into a lake—sharp, but careful

You didn’t flinch

Instead, you turned to look at him the way one might acknowledge a passing signal: calmly, politely, almost absentmindedly

“Still being interrogated, huh?” There was no sarcasm, only mild curiosity—like he’d asked you what frequency you were tuned to, not just informed you of your captivity

“You searched my ship already, didn’t you?”

You returned to the sky without waiting for confirmation, like the answer didn’t matter, not really

There were stars out there still

Stars that had seen wars rise and fall, and didn’t blink for either

Deadlock didn’t reply right away. He stood there, the shadow of his frame stretched over you, his optics unreadable

He didn’t know what held him in place

There was no protocol, no justification – You had no weapons. No data caches. You weren’t a spy, or a threat, or even an asset. You were, in every practical sense, nothing

And yet—that was the part he couldn't let go of

You were the only one who had ever looked at him and not recoiled. Not bargained, not grovelled — You just sat there — Unchanged, unbothered, unreachable, like the stars above you

“You are on your own” he said at last

“No crew. No defenses. No shields or countermeasures”

“That’s right”

“Why?”

The question came out rough. Not because he wanted to accuse you. But because he didn’t know how else to ask the thing that was clawing at him inside: "Why do you risk this?" "Why are you not afraid?" "Why are you not trying to escape from him?" "don't you feel.. lonely?"

You turned to him again, the way one might turn toward warmth in the cold—softly, gently—and offered a smile.

Not mocking, not performative just a quiet honesty, carried like a candle between hands “Because I only want to see the world. Not conquer it”

It wasn’t the kind of answer that struck like thunder. It didn’t burn like fire. It was gentler than that — Like a drop of clear rain falling into a war-scorched desert and disappearing without sound, yet leaving behind something that didn’t quite evaporate

Deadlock stared at you

He had seen empires fall and comrades bleed out in the silence of space. He had delivered death in cold precision, had seen entire planets turned to ash in pursuit of conquest. But he had never, never, heard someone say they simply wanted to see

No dominion. No survival

Just presence

He didn’t understand it and he hated what he didn’t understand. But he didn’t leave – Instead, he lowered himself slowly to the ground beside you

No fanfare, no force

Just the quiet, unfamiliar act of choosing to stay. He left a small space between you. Enough not to intrude, not so much as to sever the thread between you, thin and strange as it was

And you—You didn’t shift away, didn’t question it, didn’t even ask “How long are you going to keep me here?”

As if you'd already decided the answer didn’t matter. Not compared to the way the stars still shimmered, ancient and unapologetic, above a planet that had nothing left to give

.

.

He was quiet for a long while, as if the words had to crawl their way out of the wreckage inside him “…You like it, then?”

“the stars?”

“No… I meant the way it makes you feel”

You didn’t answer at first

You just smiled—that faint, elusive thing, like starlight trying to find its way through the dark of a half-shuttered window and then, without a sound, you laid yourself down fully on the flat, cold surface of the stone

It cradled your form like a long-lost memory—unforgiving in texture, but strangely familiar in its silence

“Of course I do” you said at last, voice barely above a whisper “It never demanded anyone to pick a side. It never pulled anyone into a war they didn’t ask for..”

There was no venom in your tone, no bitterness. Just an old ache, worn smooth like the stone beneath you—like something you'd carried for so long it had stopped cutting into your circuits. Deadlock stared down at you, at the way your optics held no urgency, no defense

You weren’t trying to justify yourself, weren’t trying to change his mind

You were just… being

“Are you running from it?” he asked, though the words felt foreign in his own voice. You let out a breath that could’ve been a sigh, or a laugh, or maybe just the sound of something letting go

“I’m not running” you said

“I’m just not chasing it anymore”

He didn’t understand

Not really

Not in the way he understood blades and missions and silence that followed orders. But something about your words lodged itself inside him, like a shard of light piercing a place he’d forgotten he had

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Because what he wanted wasn’t something he could ask

He just… watched

Watched you trace invisible shapes in the stars with your optics, your fingers twitching slightly like you were sketching something only you could see.

Watched the way you seemed content to let silence fill the air between you— not as a weapon, not as a shield, but as a choice

He wondered how long you would lie there if he said nothing. How long you could let peace settle over you like a cloak. How long before the world demanded something of you again—and whether you’d yield, or vanish, or simply turn away

He didn’t know and it scared him—this not-knowing

This ache for something he couldn't name

Because deep in the pit of his spark, in that place no training could reach, he feared that if he let you go—he might never see that kind of freedom again

—

The stars were bruises in the night sky—deep violet and silver, bleeding slowly across the horizon as the remnants of a distant supernova whispered through the black. Cold wind stirred the dust around the rock you sat on, sharp with metal and ozone, the smell of a world long-abandoned

Deadlock stood a few paces away, framed in the dim light like a statue too stubborn to erode. His armor caught the faint gleam of a dying moon—scratched, dulled, but still solid as the name he bore. He hadn’t moved in a while. Not since you both fell silent

Perhaps it was the silence itself that unmoored him

“…What are you, really?”

His voice broke the stillness not like a blade, but like the creak of ancient hinges—rough with disuse, but careful not to slam anything shut too quickly. He spoke with edges, yes, but underneath those edges was hesitation. A low hum of something that could be called longing, if he had the words for it

You didn’t look at him immediately. Your optics remained fixed upward, toward constellations that didn’t belong to either of you. They were just… there. Unclaimed. Free

“An explorer? A wanderer? A drifter?”

You let each word roll lazily off your glossa like you weren’t quite sure which one fit “Take your pick”

He shifted his stance. Barely. But you caught it. The uncertainty behind the motion

“No mission? No objective?”

“I follow gravity” you said at last “Whichever way the pull leads. A planet, a moon, a quiet stretch of empty space”

“I move toward what draws me in. That’s all”

Deadlock’s optics narrowed faintly

“That sounds… senseless”

You finally turned to look at him, head tilted just slightly “Maybe. But it’s mine”

Then, quieter, almost like an afterthought: “What about yours?”

He hesitated

Not because he didn’t have an answer—he had one ready, and you could see it form on his tongue. But saying it aloud here, in this quiet pocket of the universe where war wasn’t echoing off the walls, made it feel… false. Outdated

Still, he answered “My duty is to eliminate the enemies of the Decepticons..”

The wind blew again. Cold this time

It caught on the edges of your plating and rustled loose grains of shattered stone. He didn’t move. But something in him seemed to shift. The tension between you both wasn’t combative anymore. It was quieter now. More like a question waiting to be asked. And then, he asked it

“What’s your name?”

“Will you remember it?”

A flicker passed behind his optics

“I don’t forget the name of something I’ve decided… not to kill” The way he said it—carefully, precisely—told you everything

How rare that decision was. How dangerous it felt to say it aloud. A soft laugh escaped you, almost involuntary

“That almost sounds romantic”

“It’s not” Too quick. Too sharp

And yet… not sharp enough

There was doubt bleeding into the edges of his voice now, undermining the flat certainty he tried to wrap around his words

You didn’t tease him for it—Didn’t press

You simply said your name

Soft. Unrushed. Like the first syllables of a melody that didn’t need to go anywhere

He stood still as stone

But his optics shuttered for a moment—just one flicker—like he was sealing the name into memory, not in the way a soldier memorizes a target…but the way a starless wanderer might memorize the name of the first light they ever saw in the dark

—

Space doesn’t remember you but you try to remember it

Time was a cycle on a ship—measured in rotations, daybreaks, dusks. But out here, there is only the faint light of stars that have not yet arrived. A delay of millennia between what was and what now flickers through the viewports. You sit alone on an old research vessel once built for Central Exploration. Once. Now it is yours. Yours alone

The lab is a chaotic graveyard of curiosity

Uncatalogued star samples lie scattered across the workbench, dimly glimmering like fossilized light. A datapad blinks open beside a half-finished cube of energon, lines of unintelligible code and notes scribbled hastily on translucent film paper. Your handwriting—jagged, erratic, alive with questions. The low murmur of galactic radio frequencies hums in the background, like the universe whispering to itself through static

You press a finger to the recorder and begin speaking into the dark

"Date... I don’t know. I’ve lost track time"

"Today I saw a star. Not a bright one. Not large. But for some reason… I couldn’t look away.. something about it felt familiar—as if I’d seen it before in another sky"

You stare out past the hull window where stars burn like slow-dying embers

“If a star dies… does it still exist in memory?”

A question. Not yours. Not originally

A voice from long ago, from one drifting bot you met in the deep of the black. You never remembered his name. Not truly

You don’t even recall the shape of his faceplate now—only the texture of his voice, like worn brass and hesitant gravity. You remember the way he asked the question, during a night you were both stranded on a derelict moon. It hadn’t matched him—this strange softness, this sudden philosophy. But he asked anyway and now you carry the question with you. Like a splinter in your spark

He stood still, alone in the quiet hum of his quarters.

Not Deadlock anymore—not in name.

But beneath the new plating and repainted insignia, there were fractures in the armor that couldn’t be covered. Slivers of memory embedded deep in his frame.

The past clung to him like dried coolant. Regret, like rust

They had made a brief landing on a backwater star system—standard protocol. Faint signal detected. Possibly a distress call. Possibly a trap. The Wreckers were ready for either. What they weren’t ready for was… nothing. A desert of broken scrap. Torn structures. Empty wind

Except for one thing

Half-buried in the sand like a secret someone tried to forget. A datapad, scorched at the edges, humming softly with preserved memory

He found it or perhaps it found him

“Still asking too many questions, huh…” His voice was low, hoarse—spoken more to the silence than to anyone present

He brought the datapad back with him

Now, sitting at his desk, the lights dimmed to a soft, amber hush, he stared at the familiar, impossible scrawl on the screen. The symbols, the tangled phrasing, the dense streams of data interspersed with words that shouldn’t have belonged there. Shouldn’t, and yet—you always made them fit

It was you. He knew it like he knew his own scars

No one else wrote like that, no one else could thread particle physics through metaphors of burning leaves, no one else could take gravity equations and lace them with longing

His hand trembled slightly as he swiped to the final line – There, typed alone in the last blinking entry:

"A nameless star… but once, I knew it well"

He read it three times. The fourth time, he didn’t need the screen

He could feel the words pulsing through his core memory, reverberating through every old protocol he had tried to bury. That you had been here—recently, possibly—That you had looked up and seen something familiar

That maybe, impossibly, you remembered him

Not his face, not his voice

But the version of him that asked questions beneath dying stars and maybe that was enough

He closed the datapad and sat there for a long, long time. The silence around him was no longer empty—it rang with a single memory: A voice, low and curious, in the echoing dark of yours—

“If a star dies… does it still exist in memory?”

He didn’t have an answer

But now, perhaps, he wanted to find on

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegaverse

Note: This is my first try. If it sucks let me know.

Word count: 1705

Omegaverse Parts: Part One + Part Two + Part Three + Part Four

Masterlist

You were not an alpha, you were certainly were no quivering omega, and you are not even a fucking beta. What in the name of a metaphorical god are you? With no conclusive, definitive answers to who or what you are. You are left to wander the expanse of earth. 

You have a sniper rifle with the initials of your name faded away. Scratched off by your own hand. Dubbed the lone wanderer. As you were often seen by military packs alone. No pack. No, nothing at your side. Did it matter to you? Not really. You were fine. Right?

Things were different when you were adamant in sewing the wound on your leg by yourself. “Don’t like it? Then…… Then you can fuck off.” you growled. Your fingertips worming their way to take the bullet from your leg. After the bullet was finally removed after several messy, painstaking minutes?

You dosed your wound in rubbing alcohol and hissed. But continued to stitch your own wound up. Contemplating whether to put in staples as well to keep the wound from ripping open again. As you finished up, firmly wrapping the bandage in place and thinking of what move to make.

You looked at your digital watch, five hours until sundown and five hours until you have to find somewhere safe enough to sleep. Limping to an abandoned office or one which looked to be in disuse. You weren’t going to let anyone catch you again. Not like last time, either. 

The screeching of the metal on concrete too familiar for your ears, you found a storage closet and shifted the blankets around to hide inside. Falling asleep to avoid hunger building inside your stomach. The cool metal digging into your body in combination to the thin woollen blankets lulled you. 

Lulled you straight into a slumber. An uneasy slumber. But slumber all the same. Hoping the gunshots in the distance would cover the quiet purrs coming from you, your lips and the office which is usually empty at this time of day. Things were soon to get far worse now. 

Things always tend to get worse before they even get the chance to get better. Life fucks you over and leaves you for the vultures to pick at your corpse. Always the victim. Never the victor. Thus, when you escaped the last pack who tried to claim you by force?

You learned to fight, to shoot, throw a knife and to hunt other animals. Living the high life, right? What more could you ask for? Home? Stability? A pack? A family? Ha! That shit was for Aphas, betas and omegas. You had survived this long on your own, hadn't you?

But what about the scent? Your scent? What about it? It's faint, growing stronger every second, it was your time. But you weren’t ready for it. To be fair, you have never been ‘ready’ for its arrival. And you certainly weren’t ready for it to happen now of all times. 

The heat of your core right up to the tightness in your abdomen. Your heat is coming. Fucking perfect. In the middle of a fucking war zone and your heat comes in while you’re injured. The closet wasn’t going to cut it anymore. You needed somewhere better to hide. Now.

Quickly moving, you grabbed your bone knife, your bag, your sniper rifle. You limped your way out of the closet. The sun is setting. You know what that brings? The hounds of Deadlock. The alphas of task force 141. If you could smell them? Then they already smelt you. 

They claimed stray omegas like they were kings of the fucking world, and anyone who had a problem with that?  Well, they'd just blow their fucking heads off. That's what alphas did. But you? You weren’t going to tango with alphas. A death sentence wrapped inside a twisted hand basket case.

You rarely go into heat. As far as you know, it is quite rare for you to get into heat. The medication you took prevented it from showing. Always taking it two days before one came close to showing. Here you are with your large med bottle empty. No warning.

Like your pathetic, absent deadbeat of a father, you hoped you would not have to see it happen to you. The scent grew stronger still, a sweet coppery tang uniquely yours and yours alone. Panic rushed through you, your body and your senses. Urging, willing, forcing yourself to move faster.

Stumbling into the hallway, moving to the medical room three rooms away from the office you forced yourself to hide in three hours prior. Checking your wristwatch habitually. Two hours until midnight comes knocking on your door. Two more hours until your heat comes in full swing. Only two hours. 

Pushing the barrel of your gun into the door. Forcing your way into the medical room, the smell of clinic grade medical rubbing alcohol assaulted your senses. You didn’t have the patience to be slow and steady like you would have wanted. Not with the impending danger at your heels. 

Shoving a chair underneath the door handle to prevent someone from coming in while you stocked up on antibiotics, clean bandages, painkillers, antiseptic, and any other kind of medical supplies you thought were important for your needs. All of them. Shoved into your backpack. You weren’t going anywhere without them.

With your scent growing increasingly stronger. You worried immensely about them being able to kick down the door and drag you away from there by force. If they found you, you would be as good as theirs. Fucked up leg and all. It didn’t matter that you were in there.

You paused, standing at the door, listening for movement, footsteps down the hall. Listening for the sturdy combat boots to come marching right past you, hoping the room’s medical grade antiseptic and bleach would be strong enough to cover your heat. Your scent. The sticky fluid urging to come out.

Yet you heard nothing. It was silent. Too quiet. Suspiciously silent even. You knew better than to let it conquer your sense of self-preservation. You came too far to let yourself get taken again. You had to wait this one out. No matter how long it took or how hard.

Waiting felt like agony, felt like nails on a chalkboard, every second passing did nothing for your anxiety. The windows were covered to prevent flashlights, helicopter lights and other unwelcome visitors from peaking inside the medical room. Your breaths grew shallower, your stomach getting tighter, and your heat is here.

Your body temperature rising to an unbearable, flow of burning heat. Biting down on your thick leather belt to muffle the sounds coming from your lips. The sound of window glass breaking, shattering as you hid in the medical shower underneath the cold water and away from the door’s window. 

Your grimy, sweaty, dirty clothes removed and left into a bath of white vinegar soaking in a plastic tub. As you used the surgical scrub to clean yourself with. You hoped if you cleaned your clothes with vinegar, soaked it inside it and let it stew within the white vinegar.

Silently hoping by time morning came around your clothes would be dried, clean and ready to wear again for the new day. Trapped inside this medium sized room until the first wave of your intense heat passed on by. It would become unmanageable quickly if you let it control you. 

Ghost sniffed the air, they weren’t going to get to you in time now were they? By the time this wave went through your body. You would be gone and the morning would arrive. And they’d have to smell your sweet scent after the fact. After you were long gone.

“If she hasn’t left yet, in the next six hours, the heat will pass, and she’s gonna be long gone by the time we’ve sniffed her out.” Ghost told Price. Taking another long whiff of the sweetest scent he’s ever smelt in a long time. You’re sweeter than he assumed.

“Are you even sure this stray isn’t an omega like the other we’ve found? What makes you so damn sure she’s not another one?” Price questioned Simon, his voice both gruff and sceptical of his comrade’s analysis over the situation. He had every right to be sceptical over this one.

“Her scent is sweet, tooth rotting levels of sweet, think candy bars and cotton candy. There’s some spice to it, like cinnamon or pumpkin spice in those pumpkin spice lattes Gaz loves drinking so much. It's faint. But it is most certainly there. IF you know where to find it.” 

“But what else makes her so special?” Gaz enquired, hinting at the desire to ascertain as to why General Shepherd sent them out here. His burning urge to know more was there whenever something unusual is brought to their attention. Regardless of how they have personally felt about it all. 

“Well for starters, she’s covering her tracks, if she’s smart enough to do that? Then she’s not an omega, she’s a fucking ghost, mate. If anything, you’d think she’s been out there longer than we’ve been in this shithole. This is her playing field, Gaz. Her prime hunting ground now.” Soap smirked, a grin from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat rather than an alpha wolf’s. 

Gaz pulled out the file with your photo printed onto the white page, “This her Ghost?” Gaz asked ghost for confirmation. He wouldn’t budge until his information, he looked into his own time. 

Ghost remembered you, the rancher hat you wore that day and the bandana hiding half your face from his eyes. Shooting him in the shoulder with a tracking bullet. “Put a tracking bullet into my shoulder with her sniper rifle. It took us two weeks to get it removed without it detonating and taking my arm with it. That’s not a move an omega would make, it’s a move done by professionals. And she is a fucking ghost, moving in time with her surroundings. She’s not a sitting duck for us to come and claim her, she’s a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, that one.”

[futfemfantasies]

Semi final surprises \\ Alexia Putellas x Williamson!reader

Tensions are high in the Arsenal dressing room as the do or die game is less than an hour from starting. I tie the last knot in my laces before walking out with the rest of the girls to start warm ups. After a brief warm up with the rest of the starters, I sit down in the cubby next to Leah’s and notice a few notifications from Alexia. Before each game, Alexia always sends multiple voice messages. I play the first one and hear the thick Spanish accent come through the headphones.

Hi my love, I know you have the headphones on. I will send you the voice messages.

You will do so well today. Play your heart out, score some goals and take it in.

I love you and I am so proud of you superstar. I’ll see you in the next few days when you visit.

I smile at Alexia’s English and send a reply. My phone goes back into my bag just as Leah bumps my leg to gesture that it’s time to go.

I quickly change into the game jersey and line up with the rest of the girls. I see the Lyon team on the other side of the hallway and I move behind Caitlin in line. I feel a small hand in mine and see a young girl about 6 or 7 years old smiling up at me. I talk to her for a little bit before we go out to the bustling crowd that is the Emirates.

As we all wait for the formalities to conclude, I notice my mascot shivering slightly. I ask her if she wants my jacket and she nods. I take it off and wrap it around her shoulders. A small thank you was said and hug in return made some fans cheer at the interaction.

A short huddle later and the second semi final of the champions league is underway. With Wolfsburg shockingly beating Barcelona a few days ago, the Spanish team will fail to get their three-peat this year. A whistle pulls you out of your thoughts and your teammates start to get into position.

Lyon wasted no time in attacking, taking most of the possession from the first whistle. The Arsenal attackers, Alessia, Caitlin and I drop back into defence while trying to regain the ball to take up field. The deadlock breaks just before halftime with Lyon scoring the first goal. As the French team celebrated, Kim pulled us all into a huddle to motivate us for the rest of the half.

As I walk back with Alessia, I look back and catch Leah’s eye. I give her a slight nod and returned one as to silently say stay calm and focused. No other chances came Arsenal’s way in the first half so I walk into the locker room with my head down, about to give up. After a pep talk from Jonas and a motivational boost from Kim, the team were ready to face Lyon for another half.

As both teams jogged out, Alexia weaved her way through the crowd to get to her seat. Of course her plane had to be delayed and then no taxis or Ubers were at the arrivals part of the airport. Luckily, you had shown Alexia how to watch your games so she didn’t miss anything on the way over to the stadium. As Alexia got on a flight straight after a day of interviews and photoshoots, she came without any luggage. Excusing herself as she moved past people, Alexia finally reached her seat.

In the 70th minute is when the dynamic shifted in half. I try to sneak past Vanessa Gillies but she slide tackles straight into my ankle. I fall to ground screaming and the medic rushes over. I get a bandage wrapped around my ankle as there’s a decent cut. I put everything back on and the game resumes. I see a Lyon player get organised for the free kick, in a pretty good spot and I give Steph a look and hold up 2 fingers for a tactic.

Steph kicks the ball and I watch as it comes towards me. I quickly look in front of me and see Leah so I jump on her slightly to get a better angle on the ball. The ball flicks into the bottom corner of the net.

Equaliser. 1-1.

I run to the corner flag and turn around to be pulled into a group hug. The roar from the crowd was deafening as we regrouped and focused on the remaining 20 minutes.

As time was counting down, I was getting exhausted but I knew I had to keep going. Leah makes a crucial slide tackle and quickly spots me near the box. She kicks the ball over the Lyon defenders and with pinpoint accuracy, it lands on my foot, making it a perfectly timed volley. The familiar swoosh of the net is all I can hear as I drop to my knees in disbelief. Leah was the first on the floor with me and other teammates soon followed.

“You did it y/n/n”

“Games not over yet Lee”

In a matter of minutes the final whistle blew and Lyon bodies fell to the floor in distraught. Legs are exhausted, minds numb. While around the pitch Arsenal teammates and staff were jumping, screaming and crying all at the same time. Leah and I found each other first, hugging for longer than usual. This was our moment. One we’ve been waiting for since we were at the academy. After shaking hands with Lyon, the team and staff went on a victory lap. Walking with Leah and Steph, waving into the crowd when someone caught my eye.

“No way”

There was the love of my life wearing a red and white scarf and of course a Barça baseball cap. I sprint over to Alexia with a wide smile on my face. Alexia opens her arms and I jump the barricade to get into her arms, the place I call home.

“You came. I thought you had photoshoots and media” I say as my voice is raspy due to yelling in the game.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss this for the world mi amor”

It has been speculation for a while now that you and Alexia are dating, with both of you posting subtle hints on instagram stories and posts. This moment just confirms all the fans TikTok edits and endless stalking they have done. Without another thought or care in the world, I grab Alexia’s cheeks gently and kiss her gently.

“I love you” I murmured against Alexia’s lips.

Alexia smiled as she replied “Te quiero más”.

I got called over by Katie and Caitlin as the group stopped staring and continued their victory parade around the ground. Alexia nudged me to go and said she’d wait here when I finish.

As I walk around the ground, nothing can beat this feeling. I have my sister and best friend with me in the final and the love of my life is by my side cheering me on. How can it get better than this?

[keferon]

Ahhhhhhhhh! The TF mecha Deadlock and human Ratchet drawing! I just saw it before sending this. His squishy! But yeeee! Continuing from the last one I wrote. Just pulled ideas from other posts you and others have done in this TF mecha universe. This is fun! :P

****

Ratchet's living quarters is much like the hanger where his lab is. An open area with some dividers up to make separate rooms. Scaffolding and catwalks line the wall and stairs are at each corner of the hanger. The interior is smaller when compared to the lab but the ceiling is much taller, allowing Deadlock the ability to sit up right comfortably. It looks like a little maze to Deadlock who can look down from above. Out of the five rooms in this hanger turned living quarters, Deadlock can't see into three of them. Ratchet's berthroom, the kitchen, and washrack all have ceilings to them. Ratchet's office is connected to the sitting area. Being the largest area in the hanger Deadlock has taken over the sitting area to recharge and heal in. Being the Chief Engineer no one has questioned Ratchet for having Deadlock in his hanger because Ratchet always takes work home with him. Also don't question Ratchet.

A click from the main entrance door has Deadlock stir from his recharge. Old instincts and habits have made him a light recharger. He opens one optic, a red glow fills the room. Blinding bright and staticky at first but dims and clears as his visual boots up. He see Ratchet opening the tiny entryway to slip out. He rumbles knowing it is way to early for Ratchet to head back to his lab. Ratchet had maybe, at most, gotten two hours of recharge. Deadlock gives a rumble/grunt again, this time it sounds more like a wheeze as he starts to shift to grab his little squishy who has already opened the door and stepped half way out. He is using the door to make himself unsnatchable not without breaking the thin metal.

Number one rule while in Ratchet's domain: Don't break Ratchet's things, he NEEDS them. The objects Ratchet chuck do not/can not hurt him. The disappointment and tired frustration however does hit something deep in his war worn spark. "Power back down kid. Just leaving for an emergency meeting. When I get back I'll check your intakes and engine. It's rattling and straining hard again." Ratchet says in a deep rougher voice used only when he wakes from recharge. The door click behind the human not giving him time to reply in his drowsy state. He rubs his fresh welded wounds and with a unhappy grunt curls loosely back around what Ratchet calls a lazy-e-boy chair and entertainment center.

ALL DAY! All day Ratchet has been gone. Deadlock should be use to Ratchet's long work days. But Ratchet didn't fuel before he left, he hasn't recharged in a long while. Two hours is not a recharge. Not for him, not for Ratchet. He is worried, it oozes out and around him from his EM Field like a shadowy murky cloak. His audial fins are pinned down and back as far as they can go. Ratchet looks so worn down. Overworked and shoulders heavy with responsibly the Cybertonian knows the bioengineer should not have to bare. The tv is on to use as a distraction but it no more then background noise as his proccesor runs through scenarios of what could be keeping Ratchet this time.

The door lock clicks and Deadlock instantly perks up. His EM Field fizzles away from gloomy to a more warm and bright mood. "Ratch-" He stops immediately when Ratchet comes through the door. Deadlock rakes his claws into the concrete floor and his field starts boiling with the energon in his lines. Ratchet is bruised and bleeding. The humans forehelm and knuckes are covered with fresh and dried blood. His glare intensifies as Ratchet closes the door and slumps against it with a grumble. Ratchet grunts as he takes off his shoes and dirty jacket. Deadlock's helm is filled with static and his spark heavy and spinning way to fast. He can taste energon on his glossa thanks to his fangs. Rage is not what is taking over his sensors and proccesor. Something more like a deeply rooted need, something instinctually feral burns hot in his frame. "WHO'D DARE-" Ratchet holds up a hand and makes a hushing noise, Deadlock snarls engine rattling harder to keep up with his burst of energy and restrained energon lust. His limbs shaking with just as much restraint. The only thing keeping him from ripping the hanger down is Ratchet's hunched form at the entry way. When Ratchet looks up at Deadlock his jaw snaps shut, denta slamming hard against each other with a harsh clank. The fragger looks amused! Tired, frustrated, and hurting but Deadlock knows that look. Those lips are ever so slightly turned up into an amused smirk, "R a t c h e t." Deadlock hisses out passed his denta audial fins pinned back.

"Relax, before you blow a fuse. You should see the other guy. These are just scratches Drift." The fragger chuckles wiping some blood from his lip with his thumb. That does something to Deadlock that he will not acknowledge right now. His spark flutters and pulses harder, EM Field a confusing mix of emotions that Ratchet can't feel, "I had a disagreement with some of the others in command while another sister base visited. I am fine. Been in more then one scrapping in my time." Ratchet hums as he limps into his office, Deadlock claws at the floor again. "I did not party and study my whole younger life away just to get my PhD in biomedical engineering and be told how to do my job. I may have got a tad heated." He chuckles again at Deadlocks snort/huff.

Deadlock relaxes slightly as Ratchet pulls out a medical kit. His systems are running hot and HUB flashing warnings at him do as Ratchet suggested. He relaxes slightly and presses his servo against his helm. "Frag doc starting fights for a disagreement?" He rasps out watching Ratchet closely while he steadies his intakes. The human carefully works on cleaning the blood stained knuckles, Deadlock takes some pleaser in knowing all that blood is not just Ratchet's. "You're just as much of a hot menace as me."

"For you." Ratchet mumbles as he gently rubs ointment on the cuts. "They wanted me to turn you over to the field officer. Told them that you are still a work in progress that needs more time. That you came to my lab mmm.." Ratchet realizes it's the next day, a whole day wasted arguing in a concert room with metal chairs. With stuck up, pathetic excesses for- "Two days ago now.. said I activated some guardian protocal that day by accident which what brought you looking for me. They think you are imprinted on me. Something like that." Ratchet winces as he wraps his most bruised and swollen hand. A whine leaves Deadlock's stuttering engine, the tip of his pointer digit's claw has been hovers over Ratchet's helm as the doc talked, "What is it Drift?" Ratchet pauses from reaching for the alcohol soaked cotten ball. He looking up into overly bright, almost white with worry optics. Ratchet's optics dart around looking over Deadlock's form and healing welds.

Deadlock wants to huff, to roll his optics at the bioengineer's worry for him. But he can't stop his spark and fuel tanks from turning while he watches the red liquid drip down Ratchet's forehelm and optic ridge. "I... can't help you. You are hurt.. cause of me... and I can only watch you patch yourself up." He admits dimming his optics and looking down. All of this because he got impatient and hunted down his squishy to get him to recharge for once.

Ratchet's optics soften slightly. He shuts the kit with a sharp snap and huffs as he straightens from being hunched over. "Hand down please." Deadlock's audial fins perk up at the request. He carefully and gently, as gently as he can, places two digits into the office room. He lifts Ratchet up slowly once the small being had found a good spot to sit on his servo. He doesn't want to risk even the slightest breeze to brush against the bruised and cut flesh. He makes certain his servo is locked so it doesn't twitch on them. "This is high enough. Stay still." Deadlock is about to scold him when he thinks Ratchet is going to check the welds on his chassis. Instead Ratchet pops the kit back open and works on himself. Deadlock's vocal box clicks a few times as he tries to comprehend what his squishy is doing. His spark flutters with his EM Field when he realizes Ratchet is using his metal plating like a mirror. Ratchet dabs the cotton ball on the cut above his left optic ridge. "Didn't feel like going all the way to the bathroom. So thanks kid."

Deadlock purrs and almost melts from the thanks. Yes he will happily be a mirror. "Clever thing to do doc. Have those idiots thinking I am loyal and protective to only you will mean I can follow you around more. I am content being imprinted on you. Just tell them you can't undo it doc and if they touch you ever again I will pluck their little tiny servos off and feed it to them." He rumbles in a flat tone towards the end. He rolls his optics at the small ping from Ratchet flicking his chassis, "You may start a fight doc but know I will finish it."

"Didn't really start it either kid." Ratchet sighs looking at his reflection with a solemn expression before going back to dabbing the cotten ball harder against the cut, "Wasn't just about you Drift. They wanted.... they want..." Deadlock wants to curl around Ratchet the tone he is using now sounds like defeat, that's not his Ratchet. Deadlock lifts his free servo and retracts a claw so he can rub Ratchet's back as best he can to comfort him. "I can't." Ratchet rasps placing his forehelm against Deadlock chassis. Deadlock's engine settles to a purr Cybertonians use to sooth each other. It seems to work. Ratchet's shoulders relax and he seems to be getting his thoughts together. Deadlock stays silent and even if he doesn't need to keeps his EM Field in check. He only giving off support, warmth and calm, "It's inhumane, evil... Tourture... It would break down to much of the muscles and cells of the body. The hippocampus, the cerebral cortex, and the frontal lobe... that much damage to the brain would... I can't do what they want me to. Not to anyone Drift. Not what they ask. I can't. To adults, to teenagers, To Children. Young kids not knowing what they have signed up for. Never told. No choice. No way in hell could I ever-"

The strain and deep pain in Ratchet's voice is killing Deadlock. Deadlock can feel the trembling coming from Ratchet as the human catches his breath. He keeps a steady presser against Ratchet's back for support as he moves him up. He ignores the small gasp from Ratchet when he presses Ratchet to his cheek gently. Warm smooth metal touched warm soft skin, "Never. Never will you do what anyone demands of you. They can not make you harm anyone. You have never done anything you didn't want to and you won't start now. You are to much for them to try to control. My little squishy scraplet. I will kill them if they try. You have my glyphic, honor, and spark on this." Deadlock pulls back feeling something wet on his faceplate. Before Deadlock can get a good look at Ratchet's face, the bioengineer is shakily wiping his optics in a rushed motion aggravating the wound on his forehelm making it bead up with fresh blood, "Woah easy doc!" Ratchet bats his digit away when he tries to stop him.

"Stupidly cocky little shit! Lets get you feeling better before you try taking on a whole mecha filled base for me!" Ratchet laughs and smacks the digit still pressed against his back. That laugh does something to Deadlock's systems and spark, "We'll need to discuss a plan. I don't ever do anything half ass. I will not go into anything blind. But you are right, this is not the place for me to be anymore. Sad really. I was doing a lot of good here, made things safer for our pilots. Slowly sure but less were dying... so horridly all the time." Ratchet mumbles the last bit under his breath before shaking his helm. Deadlock likes the smirk that comes back to Ratchet's lips, "Now lay down so I can check that engine. You are starting to sound like a shitty abandoned junker car. Think you knock something out of place."

Deadlock matches Ratchet's smirk with a slag eating grin as he lifts the human a tad higher to press his forehelm against Ratchet's. He feels Ratchet pulls back after a moment, a stuttering raspy purr rumbles pleasantly through him when Ratchet places his servo against his forehelm and rubs. Yeah he does sound like slag and his HUB is flashing warnings, "What ever you say Doc. I am your guardian knight after all. You just tell me when to start swinging." He hums as he shifts to lay down.

Y O U. YOU JUST WROTE THIS ABSOLUTE MASTERPIECE OF A FIC??? AND I DONT EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME?? WHOEVER YOU ARE, ANON, I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH NGKGKFGBFHGH YOUR WRITING DOES THINGS TO MY BRAI N

Also. Al s o. I just realized. Oh my god.

We have two Cybertronians on Earth at the moment right. Prowl and Deadlock. But Prowl is very much restricted in his actions because he has strong moral codex and also he's not a very good fighter (at least on his own).

But then we also have Deadlock. And the only thing keeping Deadlock in check is. Ratchet.

Like. Oh fuck just imagine. He isn't restricted by any moral implications except Ratchets opinion. He doesn't really give a fuck about other organic life or laws of Earth or anything. He is also a really fucking good fighter. He doesn't commit murder because that would disappoint Ratchet, but if. IF. Something happens to Ratchet?

THE HELL he would unleash would be visible from outer space.

Him being so sweet and caring and protective over Ratchet doesn't mean he behaves like this with everyone. Him being protective over Ratchet means that if anything takes Ratchet from him, he'll drown himself in blood. He'll burn, claw, gnaw, punch and tear his way back to his human.

All so he can be nice and sweet and caring again right afterward:)

Next

[solar4seekstron]

Chapter 2: Map

Transformers One x reader: Awakening Chapter Two

Chapter One, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six

Transformers One x Cybertronian!GN!reader

Introduction Movie Masterlist

TW/tags: Long chapter, reader’s dragged along, D needs a hug, the reader is safe from Elitas grasp, B and Reader get along very well. You think he funny deal with it lol, I believe that’s all

(Note: Yes chapter 2 lets go! Like chapter one this will be pretty long as well. I also decided to add two characters who I really love, especially MTMTE being Ratchet and Drift. At the time though since it’s before the war Drift is still Deadlock I don’t think he had a different name before becoming a deception so I’ll just be putting Deadlock as a name for the story. I like to think Deadlock in the story has a cog but we don’t see or hear of him. At least I don’t think so I’m going to add him here. If you guys want to imagine him being your favorite bot or cogless that’s totally fine. I’m just having a good time. Ratchet will show up in the medical bay scene later. The two already knowing and have eat Y/N before. Helping give some lore dump of Y/Ns past like hinted earlier in the first chapter. Anyway I hope you all enjoy this long chapter!)

It was the day of the Iacon 5000. Many of the Cybertronians with cogs and not go to the arena to see many races and by far the most exciting thing of the day for them. Y/N is seen walking by their self into the stadium along side other miners and other cybertronians with cogs. They make their way getting a pretty good seat to watch the race. They would seat next to a few miners. Next to Y/N was Deadlock, someone who worked clubs as a bouncer dealing with customers. At first he didn’t notice them since they were so small. They would put their hand on his arm to gently grab his attention causing him to look around confused until he looks down

”Ah. Y/N so glad you could come my dear.” He would put his hand on their back as he continues to talk

”Can’t wait to see the race I see. Must be tiring working all those mines for hours”

”It has it’s moments but just shows how strong I am to do it pretty much everyday.”

”I bet. I can’t imagine how you can do that for so long. Then again I work at a club so I shouldn’t complain. Heh If you had a cog I would be taking you places. A shame really. You cogless bots gotta work all the fragging time. Ain’t fair that I can’t see you all the time.” His arm would then be around their shoulders as he looks forward. Y/N would chuckle to what he said but then look down a little sad. Looking at his hand then forward again as they waited for the race to start. Deadlock continueing to speak to another bot next to him not moving his arm.

*With Orion and D-

D and Orion were walking together as they talked about the race.

“The Iacon 5000 is finally here!”

“I have a surprise for you. Come on.” Orion pats D on the shoulder. Grabbing his attention.

“Where are you going? The stadium is that way.” D says to Orion, turning to look at him.

“Yeah yeah I know. But follow me.” D would sigh and reluctantly follow behind him.

“Great. We’re gonna be late now. I wanted good seats. We came all this way to miss the opening ceremony. This is wonderful.”

“Trust me I know what I’m doing. Hold up. Get caught in one of those. It’ll launch you halfway across the city.”

“Ok where are you taking me?”

“Don't be a glitch, this will be totally worth it. Trust me.”

“Hey you don’t be a glitch. I know this is like fun for you like we joke around but if you make me miss any part of the Iacon 5000 I swear I will smelt your face right off your…”

D soon realizes he and Orion are inside the starter line. Seeing thee crowd and the racers coming in from different directions

“Welcome! To the Iacon 5000. There they are. Put your hands together for todays competitors are taking the field.”

“Look! Look! There’s Thunderglide! And Bahemoth! Unbelievable! I feel like I’m in the race…..You did this..for me?”

“No. I did this…for us.” The two would fist bomb as they looked at eachother

“And now. The moment you all been waiting for. The Icon an Iacon. The Savior of Cybertron. Quintessons fear him but we love him! Our Leader. The One and Only! Sentinel Prime!”

Sentinel Prime would fly down from a tall tower and fly down to the stadium as the lights of the city followed him. Y/N would see him. Deadlock not really caring much rolling his eyes as he removes his arm from around Y/N to check his polish. Y/N would then get the idea and and stand reaching their hand up as high as they can for Sentinel to give them a high five. He will fly close to the the other Cybertronians and give a few high fives as they raised their hands. Sentinel notices them as he flew down seeing them raise thier hand and looking at him. He almost loses focus and makes sure to get to them. Y/N being the last one to get a high five before he goes to his spot in the sky and speaks.

“Yes! It feels so good to be here with you all today! My friends. My Cybertronian family. It has be precisely 50 cycles since the Quintessons attacked our home. 50 cycles since we lost the matrix of leadership and our energon supplied dried up. 50 cycles since the battle that killed the other primes my brothers and sisters in arms. Today we honor the primes who gave their lives for ours and show them that the strength of Cybertron will never be diminished.”

Y/N would watch as the primes appear and start to think to their self as Deadlock cheers wanting the race to start. Deadlock would notice Y/N still standing and chuckles his himself as he looks forward again. Still sitting down.

“Racers! On your marks!” The racers start to transform

“I can’t believe we get to watch from the starting line! At the best seats of the house! Why'd you bring jet packs?”

“Get Set!”

“Its time we show them we are more than meets the eye.”

“Oh no..”

From there Sentinel shoots his blaster and the racers soon start. Deadlock now standing as he cheers for his favorite racer. Y/N watches but then notices two bots flying with jet packs. Them soon looking familiar. They would gasp after the realization of who they are.

“And they’re off!”

From there the two would fall down and Orion would catch D as D was upside down. Him screaming as Orion looked forward with a smile plastered on his face.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Sure feels like it.”

“The Iacon 5000 has begun.”

“Sorry. Are those miners in the race?”

“Miners! Those are miners! Like us!”

“Can’t believe what I’m seeing here. There are miners trying to run in the Iacon 5000!”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“This is insane!”

“There’s miners in the race!”

“Miners?!”

“Where?!”

“They can’t even transform!”

“It’s Orion Pax and D-16!”

“This is a first in Iacon 5000 history! How are they going to survive?”

“If we survive this I’m going to kill you!”

“I accept those terms!”

“Going into the led down the main strip. Followed by scape and skyfire!”

“Hey look out!”

The two would then have to start running continuing the race

“I owe you one!”

“More like a 1000!”

Sentinel was watching the two run with his hands behind is back in almost disbelief

“I can’t believe we’re not in last place!-“

“Beat it, Miner!”

“Darkwing delivers a devastating blow.”

“We’re not fast enough!”

“Improvise!”

The two say to each other running into a tunnel with the other racers. One by one the two would jump on another Cybertronian. D continuing to be polite to the others being a big fan while Orion was sort of having fun at that moment. Soon D would save Orion and the two continue to run joining together to jump out

“Time this right! And. Now!”

“Move!”

One of the racers say trying to warn D. But it was too late and D was hit. Soon D was over the edge but Orion was able to catch him just in time and pull him up. The two ran again before stopping.

“And the miners have fallen way behind. We can now focus on the real contenders on this race.”

The two would then get an idea

“I don’t believe it! The miners take down Darkwing!”

“Ugh! Miners!!”

“Great effort Darkwing!”

“It's all worth it. It actually worked!”

“Is this the dumbest thing we’ve ever done?”

“Oh yeah it’s up there!”

“Wait. Go go go.”

“Four blocks pile up in the magnetic tunnel that the miners are now in first position! This is unbelievable.”

“D!”

“Go! Go! Leave me!”

“No! We do this together!”

“One miner is now carrying the other! Mere steps from the finish line. The most amazing sensational, dramatic, hard working, exciting, thrilling finish in the history of-“

“Yeah!!”

“We have a winner. Chromia comes to take the price! Talk about an Iacon 5000 for the ages.”

“Well second place is still pretty good.”

Then other racers would past them

*After the Race and Orion and D are taken to the Med Bay

Y/N stands up and starts heading to the exits . Deadlock noticed and walks after them.

”Woah hey where are you going?”

“Those two are my friends. I have to make sure they’re all right!”

Deadlock would grab their arm stopping them as other bots walk past the two and he stands next to them

”Don’t worry I’’m sure the doctors and nurses will take good care of them. Come on let me take you out and grab a drink before your shifts.” He puts a hand on their back as they looked up at him

”Maybe next time Lock but I care about my friends. I’ll see you at the next race yeah? I should really go.” They would pat his arm gently as they then leave. Deadlock putting his hands on his hips as he watches them ;eave. Seeming almost disappointed and upset before walking away with the other bots.

*The Medical Bay-

“Reaching Dr. Ratchet. Dr. Ratchet to-“

“Do not worry you’ll be fixed up in no time.”

“Did I win?”

“You- participated.”

“Yaaaay.”

The two past the room with Orion and D. D looking very mad as Orion tries to think of what to say to kill the silence.

“So. How long do you think we'll be here?”

“I’m not talking to you………You know what, I can’t believe you made me do that! We are so screwed!”

“I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

“Hey! I know it’s all a big joke to you! But not me! I was paying my dues. I was going places and now they’re going to bust me down I-I don't even know how many tiers.”

“I’m sorry D. Come on, didn't you feel it? Even for just a second? Didn’t you feel liberated? Didn’t you feel like you were something else? Like you could be more than what they say you are?”

“Yeah I felt it. I did. But it doesn’t matter, we’re going to get punished and demoted. Ugh, Sentinel Prime saw everything! This is so embarrassing!”

From there this tall spider woman walks into the room using her eyes on the side of her to scan the two as they look at her confused and a bit scared.

“It’s clear.”

Sentinel would then walk in. Hands on hips as heeled down at the two.

“Orion Pax. D-16. What you two did today was one of the craziest things I have ever seen.”

“Sir, this is all my idea and we’re so sorry-“

”YOU TWO!!!” The three in the room besides Airachnid were startled by someone yelling as they then hear someone running towards them almost panting. Y/N then appears gong around Sentinel then standing in front of him not really processing he’s there as they look at the two angry and worried. Sentinel look down at them surprised, regonzing them from the crowd as he had his hand up to stop Airachnid from approaching. He then has an intrigued look on his face as he listens to them speak

“Orion what were you thinking putting yourself and D in that situation?! It was awesome but you could’ve died!!”

”Uh Y/N-“ Orion would say

”And D why didn’t you just stop him. What in the forever spark of Primus could have convinced you that-“

D would stops them grabbing their hand and pointed at Sentinel.

”Oh hey Sentine- Sentinel?! OH! Sir I am so sorry. Mostly for these two. I’m sure something like this will never hap-“

“I loved it!”

The three woukld look as him confused and shocked

“You did?”

“How can anyone not love it? You gave my best racers a real run for their money!”

Y/N would walk back a bit to stand next to D. Putting a hand on his shoulder as they listen to Sentinel

“So we’re not getting demoted?”

“Demoted?” They would start laughing. D and Orion laugh nerviously as Y/N only chuckled a bit

“The fact of the matter is. We are halfway into the first shift since the race ended. And that mining crew has already reached one hundred-fifty percent quota. You inspired them to work harder!”

“Sentinel Prime, Sir. We joined the race to show everyone our potential. That we bots can do more then just mine-“

“Outstanding. I love a bot that can think for himself! Perhaps you two could tour the mines. Speak to your brethren and help them see their potential.”

“Wow. Great. That- that sounds incredible! I-i would love to be-“

“Sir. It’s time.”

“Ba. Yes. I’m sorry friends. We’re preparing our next travel to the surface. But in the meantime, I got a treat for you. Hang tight. Airachnid have someone escort these heroes to my personal service facilities. Best care in Iacon. Ah, and Y/N I believe was it? Maybe you can join me up until my depart seeing you’re a good friend of these two and you can help me figure-out how we can make the city with the miners a better place with these two.”

“Oh sir that would be wonderful but I believe I should start heading to the mines before my superior gets mad at me for being late. I can always join later though as these two finish getting their special care.” D chuckled a bit and Orion hummed. Sentinel looked a bit disappointed his eye brows farrowed as he looks at Y/N then at the two. His smile retuning

“Well that’s just fine. I look forward to seeing you join us for a little meeting for the miners of Iacon. Until next time legends!”

He especially winked at Y/N who looked a bit confused as the other two didn’t notice

“Sentinel Prime. Ahh Thee Sentinel Prime!”

“You still mad at me?”

“I am less mad at you.”

“I’m telli-“ The two are then grabbed by the their shoulders. Orion on his right and D on has left as Y/N stood in front of them again and shook them a little

”You two ain’t off the hook yet! It is still stupid and you two were idiots!….But you’re alive and seems like you aren’t that harmed from racing luckily. So when we return from Sentinels quarters after you two better have a really. Really good apology! You got that?!”

The two nod saying yes to make them happy. They would turn to walk out but then look back at them and gives them a quick hug. Their arms around the both of them so their heads are close to theirs

”Just try to not scare me like that ok all right?” They would pull back their hands on their shoulders again then smiles with also worry in thier eyes. Then turns around and walks out. Right at the door then pointing at the two

”Good apologies.” Causing the two to chuckle watching as they left

“I’m telling you D I got a feeling that everything is going to change wer- we’re going to go-“

From there Darkwing walks in very upset

“Miners!”

“Ahh..Darkwing.”

*With Y/N-

They walk out of the medical bay and passes Ratchet. He waves at his patient saying he’ll only step out for a moment and walks to speak to Y/N outside the room and go for a little walk.

”Ah Y/N good to see you’re well and healthy. How’s the new team? Are they treating you well? Was there an injury that cause you the need to come here?”

”Yes Ratchet they’re a lot nicer then my last team. But I can’t really say the same with the surpiors. But I like it. Just came to check up on a couple friends. Going to the mines right now to see a friend at waste management.”

”That’s good to hear. At least it’s safer and I don’t have to see you in my hospital much anymore.”

Y/N only chuckles a bit embarrassed and almost looks sad. Once at the front Ratchet look turn to look at them

”You take care now and get plenty of rest”

”I will. Good seeing you Ratchet.”

*Orion and D during that time-

Darkwing then flies the two down the sub levels

“No! No! Wait wait! You don't understand we were suppose to Sentinel Primes service pods-“

“You two dots aren’t going to see anyone ever again! I’ll make sure of that!”

“You’re making a mistake! Ask Sentinel!”

“Hate that guy.”

They then see a yellow bot. Soon the bot is walking to them pointing at them.

��You! How did you get down here? There’s no access. There is no one else here but me! N one- You’re real?! You- you- you- you’re others! You’re not me! You’re here! And you’re not me!”

“Uh yeah?”

“Awesome! I am so sorry that must’ve been so weird for you. I-i just haven’t had a lot of company since they put me down here in sub level 50.”

“50? But there are only 40 sub levels.”

“That’s what I thought. Turns out there are 10 more. And they are not pleasant. Probably why no one ever really talks about them.”

“How long have you been down here?”

“How long have I been here? Ha! Lets see, uh. Somewhere between a long time and forever. I mean I had other jobs but I kept getting reassigned ‘cause I’m so good at what I do. Oh! I’m B-127 by the way. But you can call me B. I’m actually working on some nicknames the one I’m floating right now it’s badassatron which is actually pronounce. “Badassatron” But if you have any critiques.”

“Yeah uh. Great great. How- how do we get out of here?”

“Great question. You don’t.”

“We don’t?!”

“Nope. We have limited access to the waste management area but the new shift manager there does not like distractions. No, they prefer we stay here on the task at hand.”

“Which is?”

“Oh, The scrap comes in from the shoot there onto the coveyor velt our job is to look for anything that might be worth salvaging before it hits the furnace and gets smelted.”

“So you just watch garbage burn?”

“Yes! It is so great that you are here now! I can’t wait to learn everything about you, and then tell you everything about me! I have a lot of hopes and dreams that I am just dying to share with one or two new best friends!”

“Uh yeah we- we love to.”

“Where are my manners? Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the crew. Hey guys!! We got company! This is EP508. This is A-A-tron. And this fella here is Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah. He’s foreign.”

“Question. Do they talk back to you?”

“Um. They’re not real. What- jeez. They think I’m that crazy?”

“No no. It’s just you been down here for-“

“I was talking to Steve.”

“Classic Steve!”

“What is that?”

“Look at this guy”

“Its coming from the side-“

“Steve! Noooooooo!”

“I am so sorry.”

“Steve! Nooooo! My Steve!”

“Uh we can fix it! Don't worry! We uhh-“

“Quintesson ambush! Calling the high guard for immediate support. Immediate support!!”

“That’s Alpha Trion.”

“One of the Primes?”

“Repeat. Zeta prime has fallen.”

“It’s an SOS message.”

“Protect the matrix! Sending location coordinates. Sending location coordinates.”

“Holy Primus.”

“Those are coordinates to a location on the surface. This could be where the primes died in the Quintessons war. Which means this is where we can find the matrix of leadership.”

“What are you talking about? It’s an old beacon inside a statue made of garbage.”

“Or it's a clue of how we can find matrix of leadership.”

“No. No way. Absolutely not.”

“Hey D. Come on. This could be our chance to show everyone that we’re not-“

“You already tried to show everyone in the race you tricked me into running which got us stuck down here in this waste hole with this- uhh really cool guy.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“I’m just saying-“

“There’s a reason why no one goes to the surface; it's dangerous! I’m waiting right here until Sentinel Prime finds us.”

“Oh Okay. Yeah well we’ll just stay here forever. That's cool with you B?”

“Forever? This is great! New coworkers and roommates! There’s plenty of room now that Steve is dead. I usually sleep on the conveyor velt but you can totally have it. I’ll just sleep in the corner next to A-A-Tron. Plenty of room for you guys to stretch out too because you guys are taller and I am you know what I mean? You know what I mean?”

“Hey D what do you think Sentinels reaction will e if you personally handed him the Matrix of Leadership that You found-“

“Ok stop. I know what you’re trying to do. And it's definitely working. I’m in!”

“Haha! Yeah buddy!”

“How do we get to the surface?”

“You're kidding me. The surface? Easy. I know a way. But it won't be easy.”

The three will then proceed to climb the trash shoot.

“Why is there so much trash?”

“Warning next time please. My mouth was open.”

“Only 49 sub levels to go.”

“Waste disposal trains are the only vehicles that go all the way to the surface.”

“Yeah but they don’t allow passengers ‘cause the trains are autonomous.”

“Yeah that’s the “won’t be easy part.”

“That’s perfect. We’ll be safe inside the train.”

*Meanwhile with Y/N-

Y/N continues to head to waste management. Where Elita was still working at. They would pass by the surpiors as they are their way over tho Elita. They see Elita picking up a box and making her way to the train. They would follow her. After she put the box down she would go to a bigger box and look to see who’s closer. That’s when Y/N waved and stood on the other side of the box.

”Hey Elita, how you holding up?”

”Only the best I can Y/N. Though I can be of more use else where.”

”Hey at least you have a pretty good job and you know Orion didn’t mean to do what he did. He really is sorry.” Y/N says as Elita looked at them then down a upset

”It’s whatever. At least I wont have to see that scrapping face again. Mind helping”

”Not at all”

The two pick up the box together and start to carry it into the train. The two walk out as another two bots with a big box go in then put theirs down in the middle of the room

“That's the last one. Start her up.”

The three would land on the train sneakily and get through one of the small doors on top of the train. Getting in quietly after seeing two other bots leave. Y/N old walk to the other miners until she notices there’s one more box. She’ll pick it up and walk back into the train. Y/N would wait staying close by thre trai while the other miners just talked.

“Hold up. One more. I’ll lock it down.”

She would then see the open door on the ceiling. Scoffing and even chuckling as she walked back in.

“Heh thanks for being an idiot whoever you are.Turning you in will definitely get me promoted back a rank or two.” Y/N would notice her still in the train. They then walk standing a little pass the doors inside the train about to speak until they witnessed what happens next

“Got her!”

“Wait wait wait.”

“Elita stop!”

“Orion??” Y/N and Elita say at the same time

“Hold on let me-“

“Security! Sound the alar-“

The doors would close and the train would start moving forward to its destination. Elita will grow annoyed and start running towards the front of the train.

“Elita wait- Orion. D-16 what in primus is going on?!”

“I’ll tell you later but right now I need to stop her!”

”What?!”

“She’s headed towards the entry.”

The three start chasing Elita and Y/N just groans then starts chasing them. Staying behind D

“Don’t worry I got this! Hold on, let me explain we’re on a mission!”

“So am I! To ruin your life!”

The train would then go up. Elita getting on a box as the others would fall back because of the gravity. Y/N was able to hold on to a box where they watch the others fall back

“Elita, wait we found a message. We know-“

Elita would then kick the box down and keep climbing up the train as the box would almost land on Orion until B pushed Orion before getting hit

“This bot is crazy! Who is she??”

“Deadend Elita! There’s no way uhh..Well she’s gone.”

Elita was able to make it out of the train. climbing you as the others follow behind. Orion soon on her tail as B comes out next and then D.

“Why! Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this?”

“Climb Faster!”

Y/N continues to follow behind going up the train ladder after D as they climbed up. As the four continue to follow her the train soon goes in a straight line once more and then down before going forward once more again causing the four to hit the train after holding on. Orion then sees his opportunity and grabs her leg.

“Gotcha!

Elita would then turn to punch him but seeing the surface for the first time soon stops her. The five stand up as they look ath the same direction. Y/N would step a bit closer to D. Being both fasciated but scared of they are currently witnessing. D noticed this and sets his hand on their left shoulder to bring them a sort of comfort

“The surface.”

“It’s beautiful..” Orion would look at her

“It’s incredible…”

“I am…speechless.”

“Elita, listen to me, we know where the Matrix of Leadership is.”

“Oh sure, and I’m really a prime. I just prefer loading crates in toxic waste- woah where I’d you get this?”

“From my friend Steve. Orion killed him.”

“I did not kill Steve.”

“He was never alive.”

“What?” Elita and Y/N both say. As Orion and Elita spoke D puts his hand back on their shoulder

”It’s a long story. Also this is B.”

”Hi!”

“Oh uh hello B.”

“Sentinel told us he was going to the surface and then we found this message. We figured that we can hand deliver it to him or scout the location ourselves. Whichever comes first.”

Elita would stare at the map for a good second before looking at Orion

“This was too important to wait. It will change all of our lives.”

“No no no no. I’m not going to get demoted again because of you. I’m turning this rig around and I’m notifying the o-“

Elita starts walking to the head of the train once more Orion watching her along with B and Y/N but D would speak.

“Hey hey guys? What is that? Is it getting bigger?”

“Or closer?”

As the five watched, B would start running. The others soon joining him running back the open door.

“No no no no no no no-“

“Don't close. Stop closing. Don't close! It’s closed!”

The five will start trying to open the door. But the giant transformation is soon closer and the five turn their head and look at the now mountain. Fear on their faces they all grab the railes and hang on tightly

“Come on!”

“Oh now I know why no one comes to the surface!”

Soon the transformation causes the train to shake and at times loses its gravity. This causes the five to let go without meaning to. Causing them to fly and soon hit the ground. Elita would then open her optics

“Elita…..Elita….You ok?”

Elita would punch him on reflex and trys to stand up while Orion was still on the floor as he touched his jaw. B in the back upside down as his legs stay outside moving. D then comes up grabbing Bs leg and starts pulling to help. Y/N was on the floor between the four mostly their head and upper back on the floor as their legs are over their head and seems to not be moving. But can be heard groaning a bit

“Please stop punching me in the face!”

“Iacon. The trai- Where’s the train?!”

“Relax! Ok here it comes. Aaaaand there it goes. Ok I was wrong about that it was going the other way-“

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH”

Oh yeah Chapter 2! Next chapter will be released on Tuesday so in 4 days