#Why did I ever decide on optics

[maramarly]

The sillies.. arent sillying??

Context: ???

If Im sad then Nami is sad too hehe(this week is so exhausting and the next is gonna be even worse Ive got so many exams💔)

[keferon]

Inspired by the ask about Ratchets “How to hold a human class”

———————————————————————

“Kid! C’mere!”

Deadlock twitched a finial in Ratchets direction. He wasn’t quite ready to stop sulking contemplating by his spot next to the pond but Deadlock also didn’t want Ratchet to yell at him again.

Actually yell at him.

Deadlock hadn’t meant to piss the medic off, he was actually trying to help in the moment. Ratchet said he needed to get something on the catwalk so Deadlock did the natural thing and grabbed Ratchets arm to put him up there. He’d barely lifted him off the ground when Deadlock felt the shock of pain shoot through Ratchets field a split second before he shouted in pain. He immediately let go which resulted in Ratchet landing hard on his hip.

After which Ratchet flew into one of the most genuinely angry rages he’d ever seen. He’d called Deadlock every variation of “reckless” and “irresponsible” imaginable. Any thought of justifying himself withered under not so much Ratchets scolding, as the faint feeling of pain and concern that bled through the rage like a new layer of paint slapped on before the first layer could dry.

Deadlock retreated into himself and fled the hangar. Flipping endlessly between “I didn’t mean to!” and “That doesn’t matter slaghead!” Through his mind and the night.

It was morning, and Deadlock was determined not to be a coward at the very least. Whatever punishment Ratchet had decided on Deadlock would respect. Even if it was something as spark crushing as “leave and don’t come back.”

Deadlock followed Ratchet, who was favoring his right hip, back to the hangar. Deadlock kneeled and waited for his sentence.

“Okay. We’re gonna go over some ground rules and basic human anatomy so what happened yesterday doesn’t happen again.”

Deadlock’s finials popped straight up. His mouth open to say something but nothing came to fruition.

Ratchet waved his hand through the air, “You didn’t know and you didn’t mean it. We both know it was an accident but if you really want to make it up to me then pay attention.”

Deadlock closed his mouth and nodded quickly.

“Good. Now gimme your hand.”

Deadlock complied, keeping his hand lax as Ratchet manipulated it to wrap it around his arm the same way from yesterday.

“Okay, don’t do anything yet but explain to me why you grabbed me this way.”

Deadlock cycled his optics for a second while he thought.

“Cause your arm is a convenient handle?”

Ratchet breathed out his nose slowly.

“And do normally pick up other mechs that way?”

“Yes?” Sort of. Deadlock didn’t really interact with minicons. Or maybe they just avoided him.

“This makes more sense then.” Ratchet said, swinging his arm and Deadlocks hand slightly.

“Metal can take that kind of torque without easily bending or tearing . Humans are not made of freakin metal kid. We’re a lot of soft tissue wrapped around a hard skeleton. The skeleton is basically a bunch of individual struts held together by soft connective tissue. That tissue is normally pretty strong when it’s pulled the normal way.”

Ratchet leaned slightly in Deadlocks grip, “This. Concentrates all of that weight into a single joint. Now technically, my shoulder can hold my entire weight but not at such a sharp angle to my body.”

Ratchet removed his arm and began to reposition Deadlocks hand to lay flat and palm up.

Ratchet pointed at Deadlock with an accusatory finger. “Rule Number One: Always fucking ask for permission first!”

Ratchet turned and sat on his hand, scooting backwards until his back rested against Drifts thumb. “If you do need to lift a human, best option by far is just holding your hand steady and letting them climb on.”

Deadlock shifted his hand to more comfortably hold the medic. Ratchet was both squishier than he was expecting and more solid. The sensation kind of reminded him of a big warm gel packet. “I think I’m getting the picture. So what should I do if I don’t have time to ask or you can’t answer?”

Ratchet sighed and Deadlock could actually feel him deflate. His face twitched in barely restrained amusement. Ratchets face twitched in the exact opposite of amusement.

“Pick up humans around the center of mass as much as you can. Try not to pick them up by the limbs. Do not ever pick one up by the head or neck.”

Ratchet shuffled in his grip, and maneuvered Deadlocks fingers to wrap around his torso while keeping his arms free. “Now, very slowly. I want you to gently tighten your grip. Stop the second I tell you to. Got it kid?”

Deadlock’s processor glitched for a second. Logically, he understood what Ratchet was teaching him. How and why. But. He’d just hurt him. And not only had Ratchet put himself back into Deadlocks grip of his own volition. Ratchet was specifically putting himself in an even more vulnerable state then almost loosing a limb. Deadlock didn’t even feel a hint of fear in his field. All he could feel was Trust and Patience and Care, as if Deadlock was the one putting his literal life in someone else’s hands.

“Got it Ratch.” His vocalizer came out staticky.

Deadlock closed his grip at a glacial pace, there was much more give than he was expecting so it caught him off guard when Ratchet finally said “Stop.” Deadlock froze.

“This is about how far you can go before it gets uncomfortable.” Deadlock’s processor skipped again, because holy Primus that was almost no effort whatsoever. Good to know how close he came to maiming him yesterday.

“Start again.”

What?

“What?”

“There’s a lot of give between comfortable and painful. I want you to have a frame of reference for both. I’m going to stop you before anything gets damaged kid, trust me.”

Slowly, Deadlock increased his grip again. It took about another minute before Ratchet stopped him again.

He breathed out in a controlled wheeze, Deadlock could feel Ratchets pulse against his palm, only marginally faster then when they started. “And that’s the upper limit. Don’t do this shit unless you need to.”

Deadlock relaxed his grip and Ratchet slipped off his hand.

The medic took a minute to breath and roll his shoulders.

Then, Ratchet laid down on the ground.

“Okay. Final exam. I’m going to pretend to be unconscious and you’re going to pick me up.”

Deadlock actually did start laughing at that point. Starting as silent shaking and then slowly building into not-quite villainous cackling. There was just something so absurd about the situation that all the tension from the preceding day unraveled until Deadlock was also lying on the ground. Vents whining and vocalizer mostly static by the time he started to calm down again.

Ratchet had sat up and was calmly watching him. The only physical tell Deadlock could see was a faint twitch of Ratchets mouth resisting the urge to smile. But Ratchets field radiated Fondness.

“You supposed to make that noise?”

Deadlock reset his vocalizer, “Yeah, it’s just been a long time. Are you ready?” He said rising up on his elbows.

Ratchet flopped down again.

“You’ve got ten minutes and you aren’t allowed to drop me.”

Deadlock grinned like a menace, and wondered if he could talk Ratchet into any extra credit classes.

AHW THIS IS SO LYLHKGKGNH DEADLOCK COMPARING HUMAN BODY TO A GEL PACKET HE LP

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

D-16 (TFO) x Cybertronian!Reader

The prettiest bot I've ever seen in my whole life ( do not tell Starscream I said that ♪(´▽｀) ) - I kid you not, not a single Megatron has ever moved my heart as Transformers: One did. D-16 got me giggling, crying and screaming at the same time. Gender Neutral Cybertronian Reader!

WARNING: Spoilers from the movie (Transformers One 2024). First love to Angst.

I have two scenarios on mind: 1) You are another miner that works alongside Orion Pax, D-16 and the others. Or 2) You work on something else, You and D-16 getting to catch each other on daily basis from time to time, but never interact.

1st scenario gives me the vibes that you two get to always chat and work together, watching Orion drag D-16 to his little disastrous adventures and D-16 smiling at you awkwardly whenever that happens.

But you don't mind (you get worried sometimes, of course), always giving D-16 a soft smile or a lively chuckle as you go back to work.

And you don't get to see how Orion teases his best friend at how he is smiling like a dumb. D-16 tries to deny it... to then gush to his best friend about you. "Did you see how they smiled at me? They're so... (sigh) perfect."

2nd scenario would be a slow burn type situation - both of you always wondering about... well, everything!

And the first interaction both of you had was when, by pure coincidence, found each other in the middle of a busy day, among many walking by bots.

"Hello, m-my designation is-" / "Hi, I'm so happy to..." both of you start at the same time, fell silent and then laugh together at each other's interruption.

You get to see how D-16 and Orion end at the race, celebrating their ups and worry at their downs, even more at how D-16 got hurt nearly at the end of the race.

After that... it was like he vanished. And while you prayed to Primus for him to be safe and sound, he would be thinking about you from time to time the whole journey.

As you would keep going with your job (growing tired and tired for the sudden high demand of shifts at the mines or feel like something bad was about to happen) - D-16 would slowly spiral between rage, confusion, realizations and the worst thing - to find out about the whole true and how not only him and his friends were stolen from their freedom and right to transform... but you were also a victim. Just like them. Just like all of them.

With the 1st scenario... It brings you joy to see Orion back at the mines, now changed and looking like a true transformer. And your spark breaks at finding out about the true - but the words of the new changed Orion brings you hope.

But you can´t shake this concerned feeling inside of your spark. Where is D-16?

With the 2nd scenario... you are a sea of feelings, confusion and fear, not knowing why there was suddenly so much chaos and - wait, is that... Dee? But... he looks so different! Like Orion, but there is something else that makes your spark tremble.

And hell - you cover your mouth with your servos at the sight of Orion being shot, at watching how D-16 tries to save him but then decide to let him fall. You watch how Elita nearly jumps after Orion's body and Bee stop her.

The worst part? After witnessing Sentinel's brutal murder, Dee- no, Megatron's speech and how he takes Megatronus t-cog and change even more... you feel your spark break even more the moment your optics and his find each other.

Bright yellow optics found (color) optics in the middle of a busy day... and there was nothing but new found feelings. But now... aggressive red optics find (color) optics... and while the red optics try to remain strong, they can't help but soften at the sight of how your (color) optics hold fear. As if you were watching the optics of an unknown bot.

How badly he wanted to go after you and hold you - to tell you he finally avenged you just like he did for himself and everyone else...

We all know how it goes - Orion comes back now as Optimus Prime and defeats Megatron.

And before Megatron leaves Iacon - he looks after you. And your optics meet for the last time.

And you swear you got to see the same D-16 you met the very first time in your whole life.

And Megatron knows he has changed, from the top of his helm to the last atom of his pedes. But something never changed in him.

His love for you.

"... The only thing I'll ever regret was never tell them how I felt."

Well damn I hurt myself with this I guess o(TヘTo) Vhaos out!

[themeraldee]

Mind Over Matter

[Masterlist] [AO3]

18+ Only | 4k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Supe!Reader with telepathic and mind-altering powers. Less established relationship and more fuck buddies. Lewd mental images. Office sex (kind of?). Exhibitionism (also kind of?) Overstimulation. Creampie.

Summary: As the only telepathic, mind-altering member of the Seven you take Homelander for a vivid ride in his mind during an important meeting. Homelander can't handle being reduced to less than his perfect manicured self and he decides to teach you a lesson.

Written for this request💚(thank you for the inspo!)

Boring. Boring. Mind-numbingly fucking boring. 

Ashley’s testing out her new ‘VP of Hero Management’ wings that Homelander graciously gifted her and what does she do with them? She parades around the meeting room, putting up a front of a resilient and driven businesswoman while on the inside her heartbeat is in the hundred-tens and her muscles are strung so tight he could shatter them with a flick of a finger.

Now she’s wasting their time with this? So much for filling in Madelyn’s boots with someone capable. 

He rolls his eyes.

She’s pitching ideas for the last missing member of the Seven, one they’ve been lacking since Translucent’s funeral. His eyes quickly flit to you sitting to his right side, taking up Deep’s mantle ever since his timely departure. At least you’ve proven yourself to be a worthy member with some quality skillset.

But these fucking options? What is this? When did good old classic superheroes turn into strange curiosities fit for a circus freak show. First an animal whisperer and now another invisible freak? 

Looking around the rest of the room, he grits his teeth. The rest of the team doesn’t even fucking care. Why does it always have to be him, maintaining the standard everyone should adhere to?

“Nope. Not happening.” He dismisses the presented slide with disdain.

“S-sir, we could really do with the boost in our 18-32 demographic. Invisi-lass has already hit 20 million followers on Instagram. Our forecast shows an uptick of 5%.” Each stutter of her voice is even more grating on his ears than the obnoxious click of her stilettos. 

“Right, a bunch of fucking pre-teen girls wishing they could disappear like her. Fantastic. They’re not gonna come out in support of us, Ashley.” He’s had enough of everyone else thinking they know what’s best for the team, what’s best for him. “Instead it will hurt the biggest demographic—my demographic—because everyone can clearly see that we only care about optics. A female majority in the Seven? Give me a fucking br—”

Moan. That was a fucking moan. Homelander whips his head around to look at the rest of the room to see anyone else reacting. Nobody is paying fucking attention. His mind is playing tricks on him.

He looks at you again. Even you’re making him look bad, sitting at your spot at the Seven’s table all uninterested just like the rest of them.

“Sir?” Ashley’s voice rings the clearest.

“I said no. We don’t need Translucent 2.0. Find something better—” He chokes on the last letter, eyes widening a fraction when he hears the distinctive sound of fingers running up and down a wet pussy.

It’s the loudest thing in his head. Jesus Christ, if that doesn’t make his cock throb.

“Find someone better.” He repeats with a scathing enough look that Ashley—nor anyone else—dares question his restlessness.

The squelch of a soaked cunt is still loud in his ears, the brazen repetition of the lewd noise tinges the tips of his ears pink. He swallows, shaking his head clear of the sound instead trying to focus on the rest of the presentation.

The intermittent nature of the sound is enough to disturb his attention. He throws you a cautionary glare. Not that it does much besides egg you on. The teasing tilt to your lips makes him want to get up and teach you a lesson. 

The sound of soft groans in his head makes Homelander squeeze the armrest, just about stopping himself from ripping it clean off.

Ashley clicks a button on her remote and the screen changes. Moan. Homelander’s barely paying attention to the new recruit candidate. They are as unremarkable as the others.

“Homelander.” You sneaky devil. You’ll pay for that one for sure. Timing that sinful pleasure-infused sound of his name at the same time as Ashley asks for his opinion.

He barely grits out an irritated no. His tongue flits out to wet his lips as his mind fills with the images of a sopping wet set of lips eagerly waiting for his rapt attention.

It takes him everything to stop the wanton moan from escaping his lips when he turns to look at you but instead the image of you naked from the waist down, sitting on top of the table right in front of him steals his mind away from reality.

He has to shake his head clear before he gets lost in the vivid image you’ve planted in his head. Oh now you’ll definitely get what’s coming to you.

It’s impossible to escape the literally mind-fucking you’ve trapped him in now. Thank fuck for the hard cup in his suit. Without it he’d be flashing a hefty erection to the rest of the team. 

If he wasn’t horny out of his mind he’d be impressed with how far you’ve come with your skillset since you’ve become a part of the team. What started as implanted ideas and fleeting moments you’ve turned into vivid and believable scenes, an outright reshaping of his view of reality. The way you could easily manipulate what someone saw—or believed they saw—was pretty fucking hot if he had to say so himself.

His voice quivers when he denies yet another proposal but nobody dares pull him up on it.

The image of your legs spread right in front of him is inescapable. He sees bare thighs sticking to the table top. Along with a mouth-watering pool of slick right where you sit as your fingers go to town, pushing into your cunt with a need he can’t believe he can’t exploit. 

He’s stopped staring at the screens Ashley presented on as she moved onto stats and ratings. While it just comes across as uninterested to anyone else, he wants to look at that exact spot you’ve planted yourself onto in his mind. It makes it more vivid. His mouth is fucking dry. How can you present the oasis and not let him have a sip. 

He’s shifting in his seat, each movement aiding in feeling a sliver of friction against his cock. He feels how obscenely he’s leaking. Embarrassing, what you do to him. What he lets you do to him. 

The images and visions you send into his mind are nearing crescendo. Each of Ashley’s words is punctuated by a lewd sound. Moan. Filthy noise of your plunging fingers. Groan. His fucking name.

No. 

No. 

He can’t have you enjoy yourself with your shitty little smirk while he’s fighting for his fucking life.

“Enough.” It comes out weak, but to the unknowing it just sounds exasperated. When nobody moves or says anything he repeats himself. 

“That’s enough Ashley.” He’s too frustrated to put on the cheerful aura. Too worked up to perform. “Just-just come back when you’ve got something useful. Don’t waste my time with more of these good-for-nothings.”

Ashley’s polite, business curated smile drops and she tightens her lips into a fine line, turning the screens off with an affirmative, “yes, sir.”

He stands up from his seat after he pushes his chair back. He shakes the image from his head.

“Everyone. Out!” He repeats, motioning with both hands towards the exit with a sweeping gesture.

The rest of the team clearly doesn’t care. They barely paid any attention to begin with. All dealing with their insignificant issues in their insignificant little lives. Even after he brought them all to glory they’re still not grateful.

He feels his own heartbeat rise with frustration, the sick feeling taking over.

His vision turns red when the doors take their sweet time opening fully. He’s ready to laser them off the hinges. Upon opening Ashley gets out first, thank fuck, rushing to keep out of the way as fast as possible.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Homelander stands behind you, both gloved hands land on your shoulders hard, squeezing with a moderate strength. For all your mind-fucking powers you’re still fairly fragile.

The room empties out, doors shutting behind them.

“Well,” he lets you turn around just in time to see that bratty smirk, “you did say ‘everyone out’. I’m just following orders, sir.” Youuu make him want to strangle and kiss you at the same time. 

“Really? This is what you’re going with? Brave. Your sassy attitude isn’t gonna soften the blow sweetheart.” He cups your face pulling you closer to his face. Your hands automatically rest on his biceps, whether for support or as a feeble attempt to push him away he doesn’t really care.

“If you think it’s fun to fuck around—well—then I’m sure you won’t mind if I fuck you riiiight here.” He pushes you back against the table with each step forward, effortlessly hoisting you up with a little throw, making you land on the hard surface. 

“See, honey,” he pinches your chin with his thumb and forefinger and he tilts your head a little to the left. “That camera in the upper corner? Yep that one.” He points at it with his finger just to be sure.

“Now that camera is gonna record eeevery little moan and whimper along with your embarrassing little faces.” He chuckles with his lips closed, already terribly amused at your wide-eyed expression. You make it too easy.

“I was going to keep it to myself, wipe the recording, that sorta thing.” He pulls off his gloves, noticing your eyes follow each movement of his hands as if to brace yourself for what’s to happen.

As you should.

“But then I thought that I might be better off just accidentally sending it to everyone at Vought. So everyone can see what a nasty little slut you are.” His one hand cups your crotch through your uniform. He barely needs his super hearing to catch the squish of wet flesh when his finger presses in the middle.

“Be real, did you really think I would let this slide?”

“I was just doing you a favour!” You squirm under his hand, trying to worm your way further away from him. “You were clearly bored out of your mind.”

Homelander pulls you close, sucking on his teeth with a disapproving shake of his head.

His bare fingers pinch the smooth stretchy fabric of your costume right at your crotch. With his second hand joining the cause he rips the material apart like tissue paper, grabbing the new frayed edges and ripping a hole big enough for the tear to span the top of your pubic bone to the middle of your ass crack.

“Homelander! What the fuck!?” Oh finally, you’re realising the severity of your actions. He grins, ripping the next layer, your colour matching panties, down the middle—making them effectively crotchless.

God it’s so satisfying to see you try to force your legs closed. As well as wedging your hand down the middle. It’s all pointless anyway.

“Come on, don’t cover up. You were so happy to show off all your best assets earlier, gorgeous. Where’s that energy now?” He teases you. He’s being an asshole and he knows it. It’s all so worth it, especially when your eyes flicker to the camera. 

“Eyes down here darling.” He pushes your head back down, not giving you a second to spare before he’s capturing your lips with his. And for all your embarrassment in the moment you still give as good as you get. Really, he thinks this always ends up being some of your hottest sex.

The kiss is messy, pulling and tugging at each other's lips, tongues wet and hot against each other in between the greedy nips and bites at the other ones lips. There’s no time and space for gentle and loving in this moment. He has to stop himself from not shattering your jaw with his hand as he kisses you like a starving man. Each wet kiss and moan makes his cock throb, balls heavy and aching, bordering on painful.

Homelander can’t really wait much longer. He's not gonna get blue-balled by your stupid powers. His cock has been begging for some sweet relief quite some time now. 

Reluctantly he pulls away, hands going to his pants. He leaves his belt on, pulling the zipper down from underneath it, pushing all layers down in one fell swoop.

And wow, already he’s really raring to go. His cock bounces up when it’s released from its fabric prison, grazing your hot flesh on the way up. His mind gets shot with a fuzzy feeling he’s not used to. 

He rests both arms on the table, leaning in close to you with a groan. “Stop that.” He rests his forehead against yours with a hiss. “None of your tricks.” 

“It’s not a trick. It’s not made up. It’s-it’s what I feel. I’m sharing it with you.” 

Eyes widening as he pulls back a bit, staring you up and down with a confused look. So what, you can now broadcast your pleasure? Straight to his pleasure receptors? What in the—

“You can do that?” It’s unbelievable really. 

Nevertheless, Homelander hooks his arms under your thighs pulling you closer to the edge and forcing you down on your back, no matter how much you try to stay up propped by your arms.

“It’s new to me too…” You say a little out of breath as your back hits the table top.

Immediately he grips the base of his cock, flicking the head up and down your slit. The pay off is immediate. His mind buzzes with pleasure he’s never felt before. Is that what it feels like when he teases your clit? 

He can’t wait to eat you out with this new party trick.

Greedy for more of that sparkling pleasure he rubs his cock against your clit with more urgency than you’ve ever seen him do before. Look, he’s always been a good lover to you, making sure you finish each time. But this? This feeling? This more than reassures that you’ll get your fill and more.

The possibilities this opens up are endless. Already curious to find out what else the rest of your body feels like he reaches out to unzip the top part of your uniform, pulling down the fabric of your bra so he can suck on your nipple as he bends over your body.

God, look at him. He feels like a teenage boy touching a woman’s body for the first time. 

His eyes widen immediately as his tongue circles your nipple—both, for good measure. You’re so sensitive. His nipples are nowhere near this level of tingling when you give them some love.

That’s it. He can’t wait. He needs to know what it feel like to have his cock stretch you out. Fill you over and over again.

He nearly comes at the thought of getting to feel that sensation first-hand. His hand trembles when he pulls back to stand somewhat straight as he positions his cock to kiss your entrance. The wet squelch of the two meeting makes you flush. He can feel how hot you’re getting.

“Fuuuck me—you’re even wetter than you were in your little fantasy. Lucky me.” His eyes flutter shut as he pushes into the intense wet heat inch by glorious inch.

And this already feels orgasmic. The hot squeeze of your soft walls is unlike anything in the world. Or… so he thought until a second ago. Somehow it feels even better from your side. This new trick of yours will definitely become his favourite.

It’s really no surprise you jump on his dick anytime the situation allows these days because holy shit is this how it really feels? 

You broadcast all that you’re feeling into his brain, tapping straight into the pleasure centre and lighting it up like a Christmas tree on Times Square. The thick glide and fill is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. It actually makes him a little dizzy. Having the dual sensation of your wet pussy clinging to him all while enjoying your side of getting filled is guaranteed to make him bust in no time. 

“F-ffuck you're perfect… Jesus a-hah…that's so fucking tight and wet.” He’s really losing his mind now. For a second it feels like he’s the one getting embarrassed on camera with how thoroughly this is reducing him to a bunch of moans and mumbles. But at least he’ll have a fun memory to look back on.  

So he makes the best of it.

This is where all his bravado and cocky words just stop. There’s nothing else on his mind now except the feeling of two hot bodies getting off together.

His hips thrust into you with jagged snaps, unwilling to stay out of your warmth any longer than necessary. His one arm is wrapped around your thigh, pulling you even closer to him as he continuously pumps his hips into you.

The room is a mix of grunts and moans, squeaky sounds of the table legs being pushed forward with each thrust. The huge V-shaped table stands no chance against the hurried and desperate drive of Homelander’s hips.

He takes his free hand to your clit. Immediately hit by what feels like a bolt of lightning inside his brain.

He whines needily, forcing his hand to focus on rubbing your clit in a solid rhythm.

It doesn’t help that you sing for him prettily, little sweet moans as he’s setting your sensitive clit on fire.

He can't resist anymore. The feeling of your clit getting stimulated with his fingers, all while getting your insides massaged with each pass of his cock is enough to make his mind melt. If you weren't his favourite before you definitely are now.

What catches him off guard is your climbing climax. That feeling is familiar yet foreign and interesting enough to add to his own pleasure. And with that there's nothing he can do to hold back. His balls ache too much.

With a whimpered cry he feels the pull of his orgasm taking over. His hips stutter into a pathetic tempo as his cock pulses with his orgasm, unloading one spurt of come into you after another.

“God–fuck s’rry…sorry. I couldn’t—ah, couldn't hold back.” He’s gasping for air, the most he’s ever been winded after sex.

But there's no way he's going to let you go until he feels your orgasm through your powers. He needs it.

“Don't stop, please.” You whimper, the pleading sending a pulse of heat down his gut.

He tries to match the same pace from earlier as much as he's capable. He's still hard inside you. The shivers up his spine from your climbing orgasm are keeping him on the razor's edge of too much stimulation. 

The steady rubbing of your clit makes him grit his teeth, the pleasure of it makes him want to drool and roll his eyes back.

“N’t g’nna” He mumbles through his teeth, watching with wide eyes as you suck on your own fingers, using the wetness to rub and pinch your nipples of your bouncing tits.

He watches as your moans get higher, pushed out in between gasps for air as you arch against the tabletop, your body pulsating and straining against his.

And then he feels it. For a little while he thought you wouldn't be able to have enough control of your powers to transmit the feeling to him, exhausted after a vigorous fucking to give him what he's here for. 

But you do. A burst of hot pleasure melts in between each crevice of his mind, suffocating him with how obscenely strong it feels. The way it reaches into each fingertip and limb makes him nearly fall over on top of you and go limp.

He sucks in the saliva when he feels it gathering on his tongue, his eyes blown black and his body feeling like it's dealing with the aftershocks of electrocution. It's only then he realises he can feel his cock throb and pulse, the tell-tale sign of having just come. Again.

He sucks in a big gulp of air and he pulls out. His cock has reached its oversensitivity limit and now every pulse of your pussy sends a shiver of pain-laced pleasure up his spine.

“What the fuck was that?” He asks, exhausted and falling back into his chair, for once with a heaving chest and gasps for air. It takes a lot to get him winded. Somehow you managed that. Your only response is a weak laugh.

He'd be embarrassed with how ruined you made him feel if his entire nervous system wasn't buzzing with the signals that amount to three orgasms in the span of five minutes.

He pushes his softening cock back into his underwear. Not wanting it to smear the leftover dribbles of come into the fabric of his suit.

Looking at you like this makes him especially glad to have made you the centrepiece in the camera angle. You've propped yourself up on your elbows, catching your own breath. But Homelander can't quite look away from the mess he's made of you.

Your pussy is swollen with the effort, blood rushing underneath the surface. Nice and stretched for his size now, perfect for round two—well, three really—as the small gaping entrance leaks his come in dribbles, collecting on the table. Just like your slick was in the fantasy visual you fed him earlier.

You should be happy he's a generous enough man to make your dreams come true.

Clearing his throat he goes “you're gonna have to clean that up.” His signature sharp grin makes itself known, beyond pleased with the effect he's got on you. Even though you’re the one who started this, abused him with your telepathic powers in ways nobody else would ever dare. You can bet on him being the one to finish it. 

“Huh? With what!” You bite back when you gain some functions back. Sitting up on the table properly. You rush to zip your uniform back up again, not wanting to have anyone else see you as exposed as you are. 

“Your tongue for all I care. Can't have you leaving a mess like that.” He stands up, stretching himself tall, puffing his chest out as if his own cock didn't leave a mess in his underpants.

“How the fuck am I meant to walk anywhere like this? Could you not have just pulled my pants down? Fucking asshole.” You mutter as you hop off the table, ripping the rest of your tattered underwear off so you can wipe as much of the milky white stain and shove the sopping wet fabric into your pocket.

Oh, kitty has claws. Cute.

You stand up straight in front of him, or as straight as you can seeing as you're clutching your pussy so you can’t leak any of his essence down your legs. Or the ground.

Good girl, keeping it all in there like you should. 

“Oh please, you loved it.” The sheepish little ‘maybe’ that escapes your lips is all he needs to kiss you silly. His signature wet and loud kiss that makes your mind hazy each and every time.

He pulls back after one last, surprisingly soft, kiss.

Homelander knows the toll your mind powers have on you, you're tired, overworked and overly sensitive. It’s your only weakness as far as he’s concerned—apart from him of course. And contrary to your belief he does have a particularly soft spot for you. 

He unclasps his cape, wrapping it up around your middle as a cover-up. He picks you up into his arms, bridal style, carrying you effortlessly as he makes his way around the 99th floor, towards his penthouse.

“Hope you've got a clear schedule because I want you to show me what else you've learned to do without telling me.” 

And while originally he threatened you with leaking the footage, he doesn't particularly want you to fill the daydreaming heads of every Joe in the company. He's sure you would. Though the footage will certainly come in handy for a good old Friday movie night in.

For now though? Your job will be to warm the other side of his bed while you get your rest. After that? You're really gonna have to reconsider your stance on a public relationship because there's no way he's not gonna make you his.

Taglist (you can add(or remove) yourself to be tagged when I publish a new fic):

@infinetlyforgotten | @rafecamsgirlll | @nervoussystemss | @hom3landr

@mrsdesade | @nommingonfood | @littlegaaby | @jokesonyoupup

@natliecole

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Insufferable to the Core

Ratchet x Reader - transformers prime

The children were insufferable, his growing concern for them was insufferable, but you… you brought him the most suffering of all. And the worst of it was that you didn’t even know it, because all that you did was to try and make things easier for him, doing whatever you could to hold back the children in hopes of giving him a break.

He’d openly complained about having to watch over Miko all the time or keeping his optics on Rafael to make sure he didn’t hurt himself, being as small as he was, and even Jack tended to come up with mischief, especially when Smokescreen was in the picture.

But you… You and your insufferably kind smiles and softly spoken words were meant to soothe, to calm him. You’d once said you’d never wanted to be a mother, but Ratchet found that hard to believe because acting like a mother was something you did so very well. You made Rafael feel seen and appreciated, you helped calm Miko’s explosive and wild tendencies by engaging her imagination, and you gave helpful advice to Jack, who in turn appeared to listen to you quite well.

The children adored you, and so did he.

That is what made you insufferable, because how could you ever feel the same? You were human, first and foremost, and he was an old mech with a short temper who was good for little else than patching up his team when they were hurt, and even that he didn’t see as entirely too useful, because he still hadn’t found a way to fix Bumblebee’s voice box, so what good was he?

What good was he in comparison to someone young like Smokescreen, who seemed to have taken a great liking to you, or to someone as wise and strong as Optimus, who so clearly had a soft spot for you?

And you, lovely, beautiful you… Was it pity that made you come to him? Pity that drove you to ask him how he was, how his day had been, if he’d recharged enough or gotten enough energon? Was it pity that forced you to forgive him when he’d shouted at you…

He could still remember the way your face had fallen, how your eyes had welled up with tears, and how you’d swallowed thickly as you held back your hurt. You’d smiled at him, sadly, and apologized for bothering him before you’d left to return home.

Home… You didn’t live in Jasper, you didn’t even live on the same continent, but circumstances and bad luck had made your paths cross, and though Agent Fowler had wished – wanted to force you – for you to move there, you had adamantly refused to permanently leave your home. You were steadfast like that, and he could understand your reasoning.

If Cybertron wasn’t dead, then he’d refuse to leave it too if he’d been offered a place to live on Earth. And yet… If he’d done so, then he’d never had the chance to meet you. Would he have wanted that?

“Ratchet?” your voice called, and he turned. You were smiling, beaming in fact, as you hauled a massive present in front of you. It sagged against the floor, and you huffed as you caught your breath. “Lost in thought? Busy with work as always, I assume?” you asked, smiling still as you put your hands behind your back.

You were giddy about something.

“Yes, I am busy, so mind telling me why you’ve decided to interrupt me now?” he asked and turned back to the monitors, attempting to return to work before you loudly cleared your throat. He moaned in annoyance but turned to fully face you this time. “What is it?”

“Your present!” You chirped, grinning and practically vibrating with excitement.

“Present?”

“It’s Christmas,” you said, as if that explained everything.

He’d heard the children mention it, heard you most of all as you’d brought a tree into the base; fake, of course, and you’d spent such a long time decorating it and the platform you and the children spent your time on, that Ratchet had thought you’d passed out from exhaustion once you’d finished.

No, no, you’d said. You’d only been resting atop the carpet you’d brought. Just resting, not sleeping. Yes, as if he was supposed to believe that. It had been difficult to resist a small smile at the sight of you, splayed out like that, half asleep.

“Right. Christmas. I must have forgotten,” said Ratchet, holding back the fact that he hadn’t bothered to remember it. Human traditions held little importance to him, but as you stood there, beaming like the sun, he could almost feel a small sense of wonder at what you’d brought him. It was huge in comparison to you; massive.

He took it and felt the softness against his servo. Tearing gently at the paper, he revealed something long and woolly in his colours. Pulling it out, it stretched and stretched until finally, it hung limply in the air. What—

“A scarf! I know you don’t need to wear one, and I’m not sure if you even want to, but I didn’t know what else to make that would be easy for you to wear, sooo,” your grin widened, and Ratchet’s spark gave a pleasant pulse, “a scarf! Took me eleven months to finish it. That’s the reason why I’ve been so sluggish these past months. Had to stay up rather late in order to finish it in time.”

“You…” Ratchet felt speechless, and his spark continued to pulse with warmth, making him almost dizzy from the sensation alone. “You made this… for me?” he asked, and your eager nodding forced him to look down, right at the scarf still held in his servo. He had no use of it, none whatsoever, but it was soft and pleasant, and it was made by you.

You’d spent valuable time; time that your preciously short human life didn’t have much of, on something like this? And just for him alone? You clearly didn’t have anything else with you, and you must have waited until he was alone before you approached him.

You’d wanted to be alone with him so you could give this to him…

“I… I have nothing to give in return,” he said, and he felt embarrassed and stupid for not thinking of it. You’d been so excited for Christmas; he should have thought of something for you.

“A kiss,” you said.

Ratchet almost dropped the scarf as he stumbled on nothing.

“What?!”

Your cheeks flushed red, and you looked down; shy.

By the AllSpark, you were far too precious.

“…” Ratchet glanced around. “… Come closer.”

Your face grew redder as if you hadn’t expected him to agree, but you approached and stood flush to the railing, turning your head slightly to present your cheek. However, a digit came to tilt your chin forward, and carefully, as though you were made of glass, Ratchet gave you a gentle kiss on the lips.

It made his spark tingle, and it made your heart soar.

“Merry Christmas, Ratchet,” said you, voice soft as you smiled at him.

“Merry Christmas, sweetspark,” said he, returning your smile.

Perhaps you weren’t as insufferable after all, and perhaps Ratchet has found a human tradition that isn’t quite as strange or worthless as he first believed, because as it has helped in finally revealing how you truly felt about him, then it certainly couldn’t be all that bad.

[jweekgoji]

Hello! So I read your sentinel/starscream x reader fic and was absolutely devastated to check the tag and see it was one of like…maybe 3 other TFO!starscream fics on here? So I wanna request NSFW of my boy TFO!Starscream. The lack of content is killing me 🤕 Thank you! (Specifically a high guard!reader x starscream if you do end up see this)

Starscream/High Guard!Reader [TFO]

tw: NSFW (minors don't read, don't interact), praise kink, commander/subordinate relationship. word count: ~740 a/n: I think this version of Starscream will be more popular if only the writers decided to keep that scene where Starscream helps the main trio to rescue D-16 and the others. :(

It was no secret that the well-known leader of the High Guard was quite popular among the citizens of Iacon. Compliments came from all over the place, from the citizens to the Primes themselves.

“You've been so great today, I don't know who else would lead a mission against Sentinel so well like you do.”

“Mhhm.”

“There is no one else, a better commander than you.”

“...Continue.”

“I think you're far smarter and stronger leader than this false Prime wannabe, Lord Starscream.”

Starscream's servo clamps his mouth shut as your words reach his audio receptors. You notice his optics dimming a little, a slight shiver running along his spine. Did the mention of the title capture his attention that much? Or perhaps it was your confession that he was better than that greedy liar leading Iacon now? Either way, it doesn't matter at this moment.

“You're unbelievable...” Starscream says through gritted teeth, holding back from letting out more shameless sounds. Someone might hear.

Fragging you on the throne while your comrades are unaware, seemed a tiny bit risky, don't you think? He knows that, of course. If Skywarp or Slipstream spot the two of you like that, they will never miss the chance to tease him about it for cycles.

You meet his thrusts with your hips, feeling his spike pushing even deeper inside you. A slight smirk sparkles on your face in response to an earned muffled groan from your commander.

Who would have thought so? Starscream, of all the mechs you've ever met, melts in your optics with praise. At first, you hardly even noticed it. A brief ‘you're so strong, Commander!’ or ‘wonderful job, sir’ every time made him immediately drop whatever he was doing, only to realize what you had just said.

Receiving a lot of compliments was never unusual, but for some reason, it was you who made his spark beat a little faster.

“Don't even think...about telling it to someone,” his clawed servo snakes around your waist, pushing you lower onto his lap, digits pressing tighter with each deep thrust.

You purr softly in response, enjoying the lovely view of your leader sitting directly beneath you. At a steady, lazy pace, you felt his spike buried deep inside your valve, every tiny movement causing you to hold onto him tighter.

So, so painfully slow, it almost makes the red-and-white jet hiss in annoyance. Any other good day he would have appreciated your desire for something so vanilla, but right now, all he can think about is flopping your back down on his throne, taking you right here and there how he wants it now. But that would be too good to ask for, wouldn't it?

“If you want to do it faster, just say ‘please’,” you coo, rocking your hips against his own. “It's not that hard.”

“No,” he huffs, shooting you a strict glance. Him? Begging? How funny.

“Come on, boss,” you lean a little closer, his bright red optics narrowing at the sight of yours.

“Don't be ridiculous.”

Now that's your turn to huff. Maybe if you try to use your big, charming optics on him, to make him finally give in and admit to what exactly he wants from you. You want it too. Why can't he just use his words instead of giving you these longing looks? Your commander is so unfair and childish sometimes. He can't even look you in the optics right now, perhaps, so you wouldn't give him that puppy optics of yours even he can't say no to.

“If you weren't so moody all the time, commander,” you trace your digits around the edge of the jet's wings, rubbing the small circles around the sensitive spot. “I'd let you frag me on this throne any day of the week. Just so our comrades will know that I belong to you.”

For a moment, you see him stop. A sudden sense of panic runs through your processor. Was it too forward? Now things will be awkward. You've been so caught up at the moment, you barely had the chance to think about what slipped from your mouth.

Not like anyone had the strength not to fall on their knees for Starscream, though...that is, until you feel his wings twitch at the touch. A soft, pleased hum coming from his chassis. His servo slowly wraps around your own, only to catch your wrists together, pulling them in front of your center.

“Prove it then.”

[techhiz]

Hello!!! May I please request a Earthspark Bumblebee x femme s/o who is a decepticon (but is actually a genuinely a nice person who is more of a chaotic neutral) where their relationship is kept secret cuz yk the whole autobots vs decepticons, and they secretly meet up every once in awhile and the maltos see bumblebee sneaking out and they get suspicious so they decide to follow him. they find out bumblebee is with a decepticon and misunderstandings happens with them thinking y/n is gonna do something bad and chaos ensues

If this is too complicated please feel free to decline!! I genuinely don't mind ^^

If you do however agree to do this please take your time with it and take care of yourself!!

Secrets

The moon hung high over Witwicky, its silvery light casting soft shadows across the forested hills. Bumblebee crept carefully through the darkened Malto family property, his servos moving in practiced silence. He glanced back toward the house, where the family’s laughter had faded into the quiet of the night. Satisfied no one was watching, he transformed and sped into the woods.

What the Malto kids didn’t know—what nobody could know—was that Bumblebee wasn’t heading off on some standard patrol.

Deep in the forest, at a hidden clearing illuminated only by the faint glow of Cybertronian optics, you were waiting.

"Bee," you greeted with a playful smirk, your Decepticon insignia glinting faintly in the moonlight.

"Y/N," Bumblebee replied, his tone light as he transformed back into bot mode. His optics softened as he approached you. "I missed you."

"Missed me? It’s only been a week," you teased, crossing your arms.

"Yeah, well, a week’s a long time when your spark’s somewhere else." His voice carried that familiar Bumblebee charm, but his tone softened as he reached for your servo.

Your tough demeanor cracked, and you smiled, your servo brushing against his. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

Meanwhile at the Malto Household...

Robbie sat on the porch, his curiosity piqued when he saw Bumblebee sneaking off earlier. He nudged Mo, who was sprawled out beside him.

"Hey, Mo. Did you see Bee just now?"

"Yeah, I saw him sneaking out," Mo replied, sitting up with a conspiratorial grin. "You thinking what I’m thinking?"

"Let’s follow him!"

Twitch and Thrash, always up for an adventure, quickly joined in. "We’ll track him from the air," Twitch suggested, her optics glowing with determination.

The group set off, following Bumblebee’s tracks deeper into the forest.

You and Bumblebee stood close, leaning against a fallen log as you exchanged stories. The war might’ve left scars on both sides, but moments like these made you forget, even if just for a while.

"You ever think about what’ll happen if someone finds out about… us?" you asked, your voice unusually serious.

Bumblebee sighed, glancing at the stars. "I think about it all the time. But then I remember why we’re here—why we’re doing this—and it makes it worth the risk."

You smiled softly. "You’re such a sap."

"And you love it," he teased, leaning closer.

The moment stretched between you, the tension was palpable as Bumblebee’s optics locked onto yours. His servo moved to cup your cheek, and you tilted your helm, your spark fluttering as his face inched closer.

"Freeze, Decepticon!"

The shout shattered the intimacy like glass hitting the ground. Bumblebee and you whipped around to see Robbie, Mo, Twitch, and Thrash charging into the clearing. Twitch had her blaster aimed at you, her optics blazing with determination.

"Kids?!" Bumblebee exclaimed, stepping protectively in front of you.

"You don’t have to defend her, Bee!" Robbie shouted. "We know she’s up to something!"

"Yeah, no way she’s just… hanging out!" Mo added, her brows furrowed.

You raised your servos in mock surrender, trying to stifle your frustration. "Okay, this is not what it looks like—"

"Save it!" Twitch interrupted, her blaster still aimed.

Bumblebee groaned, rubbing his helm. "Guys, listen. Y/N’s not like that. She’s not a threat."

"She’s a Decepticon!" Thrash emphasized, his frame bristling.

"Yes, and also a perfectly nice person," Bumblebee shot back.

The kids exchanged skeptical glances. Twitch’s optics narrowed. "How do we know she isn’t tricking you?"

"Because if I wanted to do something bad, I would’ve done it already," you retorted, rolling your optics. "Seriously, does everyone think Decepticons don’t have hobbies or love lives?"

That seemed to momentarily confuse them, but they remained cautious.

"Why didn’t you tell us, Bee?" Mo asked, her voice softer now.

Bumblebee sighed heavily. "Because I knew you’d react like this. And I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea."

Robbie crossed his arms. "Well, mission not accomplished."

Eventually, after a lot of explaining, the kids lowered their guard. They weren’t entirely convinced, but they agreed to keep your relationship a secret for now.

As they left the clearing, Bumblebee turned back to you, his optics filled with apology. "I’m so sorry about that."

You shrugged, smirking. "I guess it’s part of the territory when you’re dating the infamous Bumblebee."

He chuckled, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Still, I’ll make it up to you."

"How?" you teased.

"By finishing what we started," he said, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

Your optics fluttered closed, and for a moment, the chaos of the night melted away.

The kids, hiding behind the trees, whispered excitedly among themselves.

"Did you see that?" Mo whispered.

"Yeah," Robbie said, his expression a mix of shock and amusement. "Guess Bee’s got a thing for bad girls."

"Not bad," Twitch corrected, "just misunderstood."

Thrash grinned. "This is so going in the family album."

[theoceanoasis]

The Lost Light jumps into a new universe and during their adventures, they find a Soundwave trapped in the Shadowzone. They decide to save him and help him recover and when he's stable again, he decides to shadow/follow after Rodimus all the time. He's like Rodimus' second, violently protective guard dog.

Turns out, Soundwave was engaged/Conjunxed to his Hot Rod but Hot Rod perished when Nyon burned and he never got over it. Now he sees this as a second chance of making things right by caring for this Roddy to the best of his abilities. Over time, Rodimus and Soundwave do fall in love with each other.

"This is so freaky."

"It's like Earth but not."

"Look I can put my hand through the wall!"

"Don't touch that."

He ignored his crews excitement instead focusing on the weird feeling he couldn't shake as though he was being watched. Which shouldn't be possible because Perceptor said there was no life there except his crew.

He looked back at them wondering if someone was watching him but they were all focused on their hands going through the walls.

He looked around again and noticed something out of the corner of his optic. He walked towards it wondering what it could be.

He was shocked to find what looks vaguely like a Cybertronian although he looks really weird.

Noticing that he was injured he decided to help him. He called Ratchet and some of his crew members to help lift.

They all stared at what they found in shock and when Ratchet began repairing him he'd found the Decepticon symbol.

"Do you recognize this mech?"

"He's like nothing I've ever seen before."

Megatron stared down the Decepticon.

"Doesn't matter. If we leave him here with his injuries he will die."

Megatron picked him up when Ratchet did the best he could out there.

"I'll finish working on him in the medbay."

They walked inside with the mech and he sent a message telling the crew to stay away. They locked down the medbay given the unknown threat they'd just brought on board.

Megatron looks at the mech reluctant to have him on board.

"Do you think this is wise?"

For some reason he can't shake the feeling that it is.

"Yes. I can't explain it but I think we can trust him.

After that it was waiting for the mech to wake up. Which didn't take that long surprisingly. He'd looked around confused before zeroing in on him.

He'd taken a step back from the strength of his gaze even though it looked like he didn't have optics.

"What's your name?"

He carefully asked and the mech stared at him for a moment longer before finally revealing his name.

"Soundwave."

They all looked at him in shock because he looked nothing like their dimensions Soundwave.

"Are you hungry?"

He held out a cube of energon and Soundwave quickly drank it.

"How long were you out there?"

"Unknown."

"Why were you trapped in that dimension?"

"Punishment."

"Enough asking questions my patient needs to rest."

He left the medbay feeling optics on him the entire way out. After that Soundwave began recovering. He brought him energon and watched over him constantly finding himself looking for excuses to visit. He couldn't explain why he found himself drawn to Soundwave and it scared him a little.

He heard rumors that Soundwave could read minds and he wondered if he was telepathically messing with him.

When Soundwave was released from the medbay he was given a room near his own, so he could be watched over.

Everyone had been weary both because it was Soundwave and because of his strange look. Whenever Megatron and Soundwave were together everyone would look back and forth nervously wondering what would happen.

Everyone had expected Soundwave to follow Megatron. Including Megatron which was why it was a surprise to everyone that he followed him instead.

He'd been shocked and a little weary as Soundwave followed him around, but eventually he got used to it and it became kind of nice. Especially when Thunderclash visited or when he returned to Cybertron.

The first time Optimus saw him he'd almost voided and someone called Soundwave his protective guard dog. Willing to attack anyone who tried to hurt Rodimus.

He had no idea why Soundwave was doing this and one day he decided to ask. Soundwave had looked tense and seemed to space out for a moment.

He was about to tell him it was fine when Soundwave told him. He'd been engaged to his universes version of him before he was a prime.

Although he never had a chance to become one. Because instead of surviving the fall of Nyon like he did. He perished in the blast and Soundwave had never gotten over it. So consumed with hatred for everyone involved he joined the Decepticons and killed everyone in the Senate.

"Are you trying to replace him?"

He'd given him an unsure look hoping it wasn't the case and Soundwave had quickly shook his head.

"No. I'm not. You two are two different people. I just don't want to see you get hurt and maybe this could be a second chance."

He hugged Soundwave thanking him for telling him knowing how hard it must have been. He hated talking about the fall of Nyon and couldn't imagine losing the love of his life along with everything else in the blast.

After that the two of them hung out more as friends. Instead of Soundwave being his bodyguard. Although he would always protect him it was nice being able to sit with him and talk about different things.

Slowly the two of them fell in love. Both of their sparks healing from everything they've lost.

[starheavenly]

AAAAA SORRY I WANTED TO MAKE SURE!!!! I was the anon, so here u go! Zenith!SoundRod bc SoundRod is my TF OTP in general and I loved seeing them in ur AU. I hope I did them justice, I rly love ur art! 💖

His digits moved smoothly across the keyboard. It was that split klik when he looked up, it all went downhill.

Usually, Soundwave worked alone, focusing on his ideas. Either in silence or accompanied by the music he loved so much. But just that solar-cycle, Rodimus asked to join him. So he agreed. Obviously.

Yet, there was something peculiar about this, right at the back of his processors. Rodimus was quiet. Barely any move, barely a peep. Someone usually so full of life, then still, reading through a new speech he had given him before. Soundwave had never seen him that thoughtful and… Strangely, there was beauty within it.

Though, it must’ve been enough of a puzzlement for Rodimus too, as he looked up. When their optics met, Soundwave decided to cave in, “Is something wrong?”

“Haha, nothing’s wrong by your side!” Startled, Rodimus answered. “Just… Just wanted to focus on work for once. Like you always do.”

Soundwave hummed underneath his vocoder, “Thank you. But I do feel rather strange with you not talking.”

“You want me to talk? Cause oh man, be careful what you wish for, just ask Cyclonus, she… She can word things pretty bluntly,” he joked around. Obviously no matter what, she still cared for Rodimus.

“I don’t mind it. I like your voice,” he reassured him, voice steady as it could ever be.

To which Rodimus smiled. As a gentle rock ballad played from Soundwave’s speakers, he could hear the lyrics being repeated by Rodimus. That was when his confession from before finally came together.

Was Rodimus trying to impress him? Soundwave wasn’t sure. Simply, he scooted closer, their shoulders brushing against each other.

If it was the truth, though… Then it wouldn’t be a surprise why suddenly warmth spread all across from Soundwave’s spark.

OUGHHHH thank you so much!! I did a doodle for the ficlet:

ITS SO SO SO CUTE!! I had to pace around my office just from the cuteness. I LOVEEEEE SOUNDROD. THANK YOU IM SO HONORED AND HAPPY AND THANKFUL

[fictional-love-is-my-life]

Can u do Mistletoe x drift? He needs more love :3

Christmas was so...chaotic. Sure it was also fun and pretty, the lights, the games, spending time with friends and family, the religious connotations. Drift understood why the humans wanted to Celebrate it. But at the same time, it just seemed to stress them out.

Cade would yell about the decorations not being in the right place, Tess was yelling about the food and not getting everything done on time, and Shane was yelling about presents.

It was loud and annoying. And the other Autobots made everything worse by trying to help.

You tried to be a mediator, trying to take control and help where you could. Most of the time you were able to resolve problems before they even became an issue. Drift loved that about you, always calm even in the most stressful of situations.

He watched you work, whisking away the problems and only producing answers. You corralled the others and made them all stop yelling. Eventually things quietened down and became pleasant. And everyone was able to have a wonderful Christmas. Then the evening came, the humans began to drink and the other bots (mainly Crosshairs and Bumblebee) began to quarrel over the stupid things. And it once again became loud.

Drift decided he had enough for one day and went to find some piece and quiet.

He found himself a place of solitude and sat down, then began to meditate. Not long into his meditation, he heard the soft plodding of footsteps. He recognized them instantly as yours. He kept his optics closed and waited for you to get closer.

You walked in front of him, stopping at his crossed legs, then waited. He opened his optics and looked down at you. You beamed up at him, your smile was contagious, causing him to smile in return. He lowered a servo and allowed you to get on.

He lifted you to his face, so you were eyes to optics.

"Merry Christmas Drift." You sang sweetly.

"Merry Christmas." He returned. He then noticed that you had something hidden behind your back. "What have you got?"

"Something I want to share with you."

"And what would that be?"

"A Christmas tradition."

Drift did like traditions. He wasn't sure what Christmas tradition you thought he might like, but since it was with you he was willing to give it a go.

"What do we do?" He asked.

You pulled out mistletoe from behind your back and held it above your head.

"We kiss under the mistletoe." You shook the little plant, closed your eyes and pushed out your lips, then waited for him.

Drift could have sworn his spark exploded. Although if it had, he wouldn't be alive, and he wouldn't be staring at you on his servo, lips plump and perfect, waiting for his.

He had wanted to kiss you for a while, but he never expected that you felt the same. Was this normal? You said it was a tradition, had you done this with the other humans? The other bots? He didn't want to think about that. He wanted to think that you had only come to him, only wanting to kiss him.

He soon realized he had left you waiting. You still stood there, patiently. And he didn't waste another second. He leaned in and met your lips with his. His cold metal, on your warm skin. This was the greatest tradition that Earth could ever offer him. The sensation of your lips on his, as the humans described, was pure heaven.

You pulled away, and he felt at a loss. His lips missed yours. They needed to be connected again.

"Thank you for partaking in the tradition Drift. I am glad I get to spend Christmas with you." You spoke. And his love for you grew even more.

"Must we only kiss if the mistletoe is with us? Or could we perhaps kiss without it?" He asked, taking the risk.

"Oh." You blushed. Then threw the mistletoe away. "We don't need it at all."

Drift laughed, then pulled you to his lips once again.

Though it may be chaotic, Christmas was now one of his favorite days.

[solar4seekstron]

You have summoned us... for tfone Orion Pax. He cares, man; he really cares about everyone's well-being. So perhaps he sees the reader being down and decides you know what, I'll try to get to brighten their day by finding this lovely spot to visit in Iacon that he stumbled on.

I shall try my best!

For Us

Orion Pax x Cybertronian!reader OneShot

Introduction Movie Oneshot Masterlist

Content: SFW. ORION MY BBG!!!!<3

TW/Tags: nothing really just OP BEING ADORABLE

Orion was just minding his own business walking through town. Going to pick up some special energon for D until he sees you. He noticed you seemed sad and was speaking to a cogged bot. Mirage seemed to be telling them some bad news and let’s just say from afar. It was defiantly a show to behold as you only got upset. And let’s just say it’s a good thing Orion didn’t hear what you said to Mirage.

Mirage left with a sad expression as you stand there with your fists clenched. The other boys around you avoided you and whispered around you. Orion wasn’t sure what was going on but he is one of your friends so he knew he had to help you feel better.

Later that night Orion poked his head out from a corner as the other miners sleep. He sees you as you slept at your spot.

He snuck over and started to poke your helm. “Psst. Y/N…” he continues to poke at your helm until you finally woke up “mm…Orion?”

“Hey come with me. I got something awesome that I need to show you.” You let out a soft sigh as you looked at him. He always made you smile even when you should be mad.

He takes you out of the miners quarters and takes you to a far location. You noticed it’s the way part the Iacon 5000 stadium and as you get further. He then had you climbing up a tower…Yeah. Maybe you should start to worry. As you both climbed you didn’t even bother to look down. Problem for later you guessed.

Once you two were at the top of the building you looked around. “No one ever seems to come up here Pax. You sure we should be here?”

“Oh yeah it’s totally fine just so happen to stumble up here during one of my greatest escapes from cops.” You looked around and the area noticing the other buildings “Stumbled????”

Orion was too busy looking over the city with his cervos on his hips when you asked. “Orion why did you bring me here?” He’d then look at you and walk over to you. Gently grabbing your cervo and bringing you with him. You were hesitant as he dragged you with him and when he told you to look down. Luckily the tower having a parapet. You slowly looked down and your optics widened. You were over where you got a very good view of the Iacon stadium and the rest of the race from almost across the city. The tower was far but the view was perfect.

You were in shock and as you stared. Orion had the biggest grin on his face. You then looked at you with a slow head turn

“Orion…” you let out a sigh of joy “why did you bring me here?”

“Well when I got here I thought of how incredible it be to see it without using that big screen. So maybe…you, me,….and D I guess too-“ you and him let out a chuckle

“We can watch…up here one day….guards will be too busy I checked” he chuckled as you only stared at him with a soft smile on your dermas. “Thank you…Orion…” he puts his cervo on your shoulder

You two looked at the stadium for a little while longer until Orion glanced at you before asking

“So you and Mirage….there a reason you two were….’argueing’???” You thought for a moment

“…..OH! Yeah he said that a celebrity like him couldn’t be seen with someone lower based on what other racers told him.”

You two remain silent for a while. Until it actually clicked in Orions helm.

“oh…..OH…..OH!!! THAT MOTHERFU-“

-End Credits with if I fall music-

Hope you enjoyed. I mostly had fun with this one 😊

And Happy Halloween!!!!

[primus-why]

Another A/B/O AU...

... this time TFA!

Okay some rules this time are:

Alphas can mate with Betas to produce offspring-- with the exception of cross-factional pairs. And you will only ever produce the same frametype as the creators.

Betas and Betas can mate to produce offspring-- but again, they have to both be civilians or both be warframes. They will only produce offspring of the same frametype.

It's very rare for Alpha pairings to reproduce. Same rules above apply concerning frametypes.

Omegas are rare in that anyone can reproduce with them, and thus their offspring can be any frametype. Contrary to a popular myth, the sparkling's frametype is random and not automatically based on whomever the sire/carrier is.

Generally the majority of Decepticons are Alphas, and the majority of Autobots are Betas. A Beta!Decepticon or Alpha!Autobot is not rare but still pretty uncommon.

Omegas have not been seen for generations, and it's believed they've been wiped out. The deaths of Omegas on both sides is partially what kicked up the war, as it now became much more difficult to procreate. Especially for Decepticons, being mostly Alphas.

All mechs regardless of secondary status go through a reproductive receptivity cycle-- the horny time we usually call "heat" or "rut". (But since I couldn't think of a 3rd word for a Betas cycle, we'll call it "RRC" or just "cycle" across the board lol)

Surprise, surprise! Optimus Prime is, in fact, an Omega. He doesn't know that, though...

See, Omegas have been out of the picture for so long, they don't really teach about them anymore in the Academy. Obviously some folks like Ultra Magnus and Ratchet are old enough to remember, as are many of the Decepticons. But generally speaking, Optimus believes he's just a Beta with an abnormally persistent cycle.

Optimus' status is only known to a few-- thanks to the standard examination all new recruits undergo, only some of the older medics and Ultra Magnus himself were aware. The Magnus took great care to not place Optimus on the front lines whenever possible, as he did not want to risk the Cause losing something so precious as an Autobot Omega.

However, at the same time he did not disclose Optimus' status to anyone else-- he knew it would likely result in his peers treating him differently, or worse, the Council might vote to sequester him to a breeding center. No, Optimus himself couldn't even be aware-- Ultra Magnus was worried he'd fall prey to the old stigmas which claimed Omegas were inherently weaker or incapable. Perhaps that was hypocritical of him, since he had been avoiding using Optimus in battles, despite the young Prime being one of the most skilled and capable Bots at the Academy...

Perhaps that's why when the incident on Archa-7 happened, he took the opportunity to all but banish Optimus from Cybertron. Repairing space bridges kept him out of the direct line of fire; nothing ever seemed to happen all the way out there. What's more, Ultra Magnus wouldn't have to continue fabricating reasons why one of the Academy's top students was not being placed in more active roles. Optimus would also be spared the scrutiny of re-evaluation, wherein his status would likely have been disclosed to the Council and everyone in the upper ranks... as well as Ultra Magnus' favoritism.

Yes, Ultra Magnus had thought he was in the clear. The young Prime still had a part to play in the Great Autobot Machine, but not until things had quieted significantly. One day, Optimus would have the chance at a normal civilian life while their planet rebuilds, and Ultra Magnus would have the medics disclose his status so he could decide his own future without the pressures of wartime. For now, all he needed to do was ship the Omega somewhere, far away from prying optics, with a medic who could be discreet and a parting reminder to not be a hero.

... A lot of good that did him.

Some additional notes of who-is-what:

Alphas include*: Megatron, Sentinel Prime, Lugnut, Strika, Ultra Magnus, Bulkhead, Starscream, Blitzwing, Drift

Betas include*: Shockwave, Blurr, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Jazz, Blackarachnia, Prowl, Jetfire and Jetstorm, Rodimus Prime

*but are not limited to

[anon-e-miss]

Reformation - 9

“Barricade?” Prowl asked when Jazz mentioned a cousin looking for him.

“I dunno,” Jazz replied. “He didn’t give Trailbreaker a designation. Beta?”

“It would have to be Barricade,” Prowl said. “My other cousins are Alphas. Barricade is the only one who would embarrass himself claiming me, in any case.”

Jazz did not feel good leaving Prowl. The news that a cousin was looking for him visibly disturbed him. At least Ori had arrived and would do his best to distract Prowl was Jazz was gone. The Beta cousin claimed Prowl, which was a point in his favour. At the same time, Prowl had never mentioned him, there was no next of kin listed in his file, Jazz had looked, he was a spy after all. He knew the ins and outs of every officer’s personal file. Some had secret families and unknown to them, Jazz had put reservist operatives in their neighbours to serve a first line of defence if Decepticons figured a hostage was in order. His job was not just to sniff out Decepticon secrets, that was not even the most important part of his job, his most important job was preserving the Autobot’s own.

When Jazz had pictured Prowl’s cousin, he had imagined a mech who looked like him. The mech he saw standing on the Autobot Provost guard’s back did not look like Prowl beyond his doorwings. Maybe Jazz should have asked what Barricade looked like. This Praxian had overall dark colouring. His plating was black and gold, safe for stripes of white that sported the Praxian enforcer decals. His face was gold and his optics red. Jazz supposed mecha would think the same of him as his twin thought their features were all identical save for their colouring. Trailbreaker smiled and gave Jazz an awkward wave. The Praxian looked turned to watch him come, never stepping off the Alpha’s back. His arms were crossed under his chassis. The other Provost guards were standing at their posts, unwilling to interfere, leading Jazz to believe this one had asked for it.

“Barricade?” Jazz asked.

“That’s right,” the Praxian said.

“Great,” Jazz replied. “Mind steppin’ off’m?”

“Where is Prowl?” Barricade asked. He did as Jazz asked and stepped off the guard like he was a stepping stool.

“Home,” Jazz replied. “What’s... this about?”

“He asked for a demonstration,” Barricade replied.

“Well...” Jazz said. He made a gesture for the guards watching from their posts. “I think they learned.”

“Mm.” Barricade hummed, reminiscent of Prowl.

“Pretty impressive, takin’ down a warbuild ‘bout twice your size,” Jazz said.

“I know how to bring an Alpha down to my level,” Barricade replied, ever so slightly primly. Ironhide would like him.

“Enforcer?” Jazz asked.

“Yes,” Barricade replied.

“Ya serve wit Prowl?” Jazz asked.

“Until he resigned,” Barricade replied. Jazz nodded. Then Barricade knew about the worst of what Prowl had gone through. He was the only cousin to still claim Prowl.

“Any chance y’ll tell me what brought ya here?” Jazz asked.

“If Prowl wants you around when I tell him,” Barricade replied.

“See that he gets to Ratchet,” Jazz ordered Trailbreaker. “Come wit me. We’re off pace.”

“We?” Barricade asked.

“We,” Jazz said. They were we, for now at least, but Jazz thought better of adding that part. He transformed and Barricade followed after him. The Beta Praxian shared his cousin’s altmode. “Why not comm him?”

“Because he deserves better than a comm call,” Barricade replied. “He wasn’t going to get one anyways.”

“Somethin’ happen wit his ‘genitor?” Jazz asked.

“I wouldn’t trouble him with that aft’s ashes,” Barricade replied.

“Really ain’t gonna tell me,” Jazz said.

“Prowl gets to decide how much you know,” Barricade replied.

“Yer protective o’m,” Jazz noted.

“He was always decent,” Barricade replied. “I can’t say the same for my brothers.”

“Had a lot o’ experience puttin’ Alphas in line then?” Jazz guessed.

“Its my favourite hobby,” Barricade replied.

Jazz laughed, though he suspected it was the truth. Barricade was a brasher version of Prowl but the more he spoke the more Jazz found a resemblance. Just like Barricade insisted on Prowl decided if Jazz got to hear whatever he had to say, Jazz thought Prowl ought to decide if his cousin should hear he was carrying. They were at an impasse and the Alpha was not thrilled. He had no doubt whatever news Barricade had was going to hurt Prowl and Prowl did not deserve any more pain. But for Barricade to have travelled to Iacon, it was something important. At least Ori was also going to be there and he would be able to knock some sense into Jazz if he overreacted at all.

“Why not live on base?” Barricade asked once they stopped outside Jazz’s building.

“Better digs,” Jazz replied. “Me ‘n my twin each got our own space ‘n room for Ori when he visits. “Bachelor habs ain’t roomie.”

“Fair enough,” Barricade replied. “Prowl’s would be drab.”

“Medic Ratchet says it looks like a prison cell,” Jazz replied.

“He’s afraid to express himself,” Barricade replied. “Having an opinion or taste not identical to his progenitor’s was never well received.”

***

The door opened and Prowl stood up. It was Barricade. He smiled, it was strained but Prowl smiled because when no one else in the world cared for him, Barricade had. His cousin walked over and brushed his crest against Prowl’s. Barricade was exactly the same as he had been when Prowl had left Praxus, the same looks, the same rank. Prowl gestured his helm towards Barricade’s doorwings while lifting and twitching his own and Barricade just shrugged irreverently. A Beta stood a better chance at promotion in the enforcers than an Omega but it was not great. They would need to play politics and Alpha dynamics especially well and Barricade did not. He played with Alphas as Alphas played with each other, which usually left the Alpha humiliated and Barricade smugly satisfied.

“You should sit down,” Barricade said, soberly. Jazz took Prowl’s arm and sat with him on the couch.

“What is it?” Prowl asked.

“Lockdown was paroled,” Barricade explained. “Two quartexes ago.”

“No!” Prowl gasped. His helm spun. Jazz took him in his arms. Behind them, Punch growled.

“I’m sorry,” Barricade replied. “I got a warrant put out on him for what he did to you.”

“Do they even wanna prosecute?” Jazz asked. “Seems, just from what Prowl’s told me, they don’t care.”

“I threatened to publish an tell-all,” Barricade replied. “I can at least use the warrant to get optics on him. After he left Garrus-9, he’s effectively disappeared.”

“Ya think Prowl’s in danger?” Jazz asked. “That’s why ya came.”

“Barricade is in danger,” Prowl said.

“I’m fine,” Barricade replied, waving Prowl off with servo and doorwing.

“He was explicit about what he would do to you,” Prowl replied, staring up at his cousin.

“Tedious scrap Alphas of his type say,” Barricade replied. “It’s grandstanding.”

“You threatened to unmech him, repeatedly,” Prowl sighed. “I believe he will have taken that personally.”

“A’ight, I think I like ya,” Jazz declared. Prowl sighed.

“Please don’t encourage him,” the Omega said. “You humiliated him, Barricade. Lockdown has an ego like no other.”

“Like I told him, from a distance, I shoot him through the panel,” Barricade replied. “Up close, a knife. I would relish the opportunity, Prowl.”

“Oh I definitely like ya,” Punch declared.

“I’ll gets my optics on the ground lookin’ for’m,” Jazz said. “Since I don’t need a warrant ‘n don’t worry ‘bout little technicalities like trials.”

“This I like,” Barricade replied.

“In the meantime, ‘til we get optics on’m, ya might as well stay for a visit,” Jazz suggested. “Ori can use Rico’s berth, leavin’ the guest berth to ya. The two o’ ya can catch up.”

“I would look like an aft if I said no,” Barricade replied.

“Please,” Prowl said.

“You don’t need to beg,” Barricade sighed. “I have an orn’s leave. I wasn’t about to drop this on you and roll out.”

“Thank you.”

[sideswipesjetpack]

He is never fighting any ‘con one on one ever again.

Okay- Sideswipe was lying seventeen times over saying this (why seventeen specifically? That’s for him to know and you not), so let's rephrase, because remember kiddos, lying is bad- he is never fighting a con close to three times his size one on one again.

…eh, he's probably lying about that too, but at least it gives him some temporary peace of mind. It certainly does give Sunstreaker some, if the bond is anything to go by. 

Still, he supposes this sudden moment of self-reflection could've come at a better time. Like, maybe before he was almost turned into a newly developed kind of the human dish dubbed ‘pancake’.

His eye decides to sizzle painfully just in that moment to remind him of his poor situation. 

Ouch, right- the whole ‘getting beaten to a bloody pulp’ thing. How could he forget? (Seriously, how could he? That seemed worrying. Forgetting important stuff when you just almost died and are most definitely severely injured in the head is proooobably not a good sign. Don’t quote him on this though, even bots as amazing as Sideswipe could be wrong sometimes.)

His optic was in shambles, and that was putting it nicely. It hurt, frag, it hurt so badly. Humor was his way of coping and he could handle havign a limb ripped off on most days, and even now this was pushing his limits of pain tolerance. He had limits too okay?! He could barely see beyond the blaring red warnings clouding his visual feed which only added the stress of possibly being ambushed again on top of the warnings themselves, of energon loss, of destroyed optical systems, of visual feeds at only 46%, all the terrible no-good information about how sory his current state was. He couldn’t think, let him think- So much text his processor was hurting, aching worse than his wounds. He was overworked, tired, exhausted even, and Sunstreaker was stuck fighting his own battles, so Sideswipe was alone as he waited for his twin to help, he needed his twin, please, Sunny, just hurry it h u r t s-

He felt cold and hot at once, his systems running at full capacity, adrenaline burning through his lines, energon and coolant a stark contrast against his faceplates, making his shiver-

Right, right, focus Sideswipe. Imagine you slapping yourself on your cheeks just now! You gotta stay alive for there to be something for your brother to pick up. Pull yourself together. 

Still, it was so damn hard with his processor working at barely half capacity-

“Frag- That… wasn't fun…” Sideswipe panted, wishing Sunstreaker would hurry his shiny golden aft for once, shivering slightly as his ex-vent caused air to touch his wounded face.

Instinctively, he brought a servo up and wiped the corner of his mouth, wincing as it came back stained pink. Moreover, the shoulder of the arm he used was starting to ache suspiciously sharp through all the other mild aches around his body. He didn’t even need to glance to know it was damaged in some way.

And he just used that arm out his two available ones to do a, relatively, unnecessary action. Possibly aggravating the wound in the process.  Oh, if his injuries didn’t kill him first, Ratchet was so gonna finish the job. --- OH YEAH, I FINALLY DID IT! Hope you like this little word vomit of mine lmaooo I really like showing the chaos inside a wounded character's head, especially how it affects their thoughts. They're hurt, they're scared, they're in pain, and like Sideswipe, probably wishing for a saviour to come. And Sideswipe is already a funky little guy, pain is only gonna make everything 100 times worse in his brain! Also I tried including everything I could get from the drawings, so that lil wound on Sideswipe's shoulder also got a cameo. Sunny being busy with his own fight is pulled from his drawings where he's in combat. A nice way to tie it all together <3

^^^EVEryone.. READ THIS NOWWW!!^^^^

I’m going to throttle you affectionally, shake you back and fourth/affectionate

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUYYUHHHHUUU AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUYYUHHHHUUU AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUYYUHHHHUUU AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUYYUHHHHUUU

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH O MY GOAHHHHHHJHHHHHHHH

DUDEEEEEEE

this is such a beautiful thing to come home to after a 9 hour shift 💕💕💕

AHHHHHHHH LOOK LOOOOK THE CAMEOS? THE WORDS AAHHHSGSGAAHAHJSJAOSJSOAHSJS

I’m speechless I’m word vomit

THANK YOU SO KUCH BRO, IM EATING ALL OF THIS, I reread it twice before deciding better answer it LMAOOOO

When you’re absolutely battered and your bros antagonising the cons half a mile away 💔💔

[in1-nutshell]

in1-nutshell, give us the IDW Ironhold and Megatron reunion

and my life

is yours

Lets see how this reunion goes shall we?

Hope you enjoy!

Ironhold and Megatron reunion

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Ironhold was a patient bot.

Something they were proud of.

But right now?

Rodimus was really testing them…

He had been skirting around the bush about some sort of news, and they needed to get to the bottom of it.

If their Amica was keeping something from them, it usually meant that something big was about to happen.

…

…

Ironhold didn’t know what was worse.

The fact that Magnus sent them a memo about the importance of a comma after misusing it, or that in the same memo he mentioned that Megatron would be joining the ship.

Megatron would be joining the ship… as Co-Captain of the Lost Light.

Co-Captain?!

That wasn’t even official ranking?!

What in Primus’s name was Prime thinking?!

Why didn’t Rodimus say anything!?

They knew they should have gone with him when they docked on Cybertron.

But no!

The one time they decided to take a break from Cybertronian news, was the time that the fate of Megatron would be determined.

Ironhold is standing beside Ultra Magnus and Rodimus. The bot mentally steeling themselves up for who would be coming through the doors of the ship. Rodimus: “…Listen I wanted to tell you—” Ironhold: “Now is not the time Rodimus.” Rodimus: “If you can just let me explain—” Ironhold gives him a bit of a side glare. Ironhold: “Not now Prime.” Magnus: “Will the both of you stop acting like sparklings and—” DING! Ironhold immediately stiffened and took a step-in front of Rodimus. The motion is not going unnoticed by Magnus and Rodimus. The large grey mech stepped into the room. Ironhold’s optics narrowed as their servos clenched. Magnus stepped forward. Magnus: “Megatron. Welcome to the Lost Light, captain.” Rodimus: “That’s Co-Captain.” Megatron: “Ultra Magnus. Rodimus.” He looks at Ironhold. They feel like they were back at on Earth… they were standing in front of Hot Rod and the humans before… Rodimus: “This is—” Ironhold: “Ironhold. My designation is Ironhold.” Megatron’s optics went wide before returning a scowl. He nods and walks away. Ironhold stares blankly ahead. Magnus takes one last look at Ironhold before following the grey mech. Rodimus hesitantly laces his digits in Ironhold’s giving a reassuring squeeze. They squeeze tightly, slightly shaking.

Ironhold didn’t know what to think about at that moment.

Did he not recognize them?

Sure, they had some repaint and kibble changes, but it wasn’t that drastic.

Or maybe he did recognize them.

He must have.

That would be the only explanation behind that scowl.

The ex-warlord probably regrated not checking to make sure they were actually offline.

Ironhold felt as if they were walking on eggshells the first few days of Megatron being on the ship.

They absolutely refused to leave him alone in a room.

There was no telling what he could do.

Ironhold is glaring at Megatron from across Swerve’s bar. One of the new recruits on the ship sits next to them. Nautica: “You’re Ironhold correct? I’m Nautica.” Ironhold looks over at the smiling purple bot. Ironhold: “Nautica. You’re working along side Perceptor and Brainstorm, correct?” Nautica: “Yes I am!” She looks over a bit and notices Ironhold’s optics shifting ever so often to Megatron. Nautica: “You are looking at Megatron an awful lot. You want to talk to him?” Ironhold: “No! I mean—no. Absolutely not. Um, why don’t you tell me about your work with that large wrench of yours?” Nautica: “Oh! Well, I have been meaning to get smaller, but as it turns out, having a big one can be very useful.”

Megatron thought this was a punishment from the universe.

Not only had he just met a bot that looked like his deceased child, but shared the same name?

You had better believe he was angry.

Angry that some Autobot decided to use that name.

Angry that they looked too similar.

This was part of his punishment, Megatron just knew it.

So he decided what to do about the problem.

Ignore the  bot.

Not his best plan but he can’t look at them without seeing Ironhold’s face of shock and betrayal as a smoldering hole produced on their chassis.

This useless quest couldn’t possibly get worse.

…right?

Megatron is helping Swerve open what the minibot claimed to be a ‘stuck closet’. Swerve: “I swear! Its like if someone’s on the other side of it!” Megatron: “I highly doubt that.” He yanks at the door and sidesteps as someone DOES fall out. Well, more like some bots. Soundwave is on the floor with the mini’s around him groaning in pain. Swerve: “What!?” Megatron: “Soundwave?” Soundwave: “Megatron.” There are several fast pede steps coming close. Magnus, Rodimus, Ironhold and Skids ran to them. Ironhold: “We heard yelling what—” Their entire frame goes stiff seeing the Con’s on the ground. Seeing Soundwave… Seeing Rumble… … … BLZZZT! Rodimus: “Iron—AACCKK!” Rodimus is once again under an unconscious Ironhold. Rodimus: “Again!? *wheeze* Someone get them off me!”

[quillneriine]

Lost and Found (Sole Survivor Prima AU)

The day they won the war, Cybertron lost all but one Prime, and Prima Prime has not been the same since. In the present, Orion Pax - an archivist with a penchant for trouble - finds himself with the golden opportunity to ask Prima Prime what really happened all those cycles ago. Meanwhile, D-16 - Pax's conjunx and assigned security personnel - just really wishes that Pax doesn't get them both executed… and that he could stop feeling watched within the walls of the Prime's palace.

Full disclosure, this is a "D-16 is Primatronus' sparkling" AU. Why? Because why not. And also because I was talking about this with some people in the OPMeg discord server and I just needed to write it so that I may finally get some decent sleep instead of having this AU rotate in my head. Anyway, more info on the actual Ao3 link. So... mind the tags, and yeah, hope you like this.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63743554

“You deserve this.”

“Awww, thanks Dee!” “... I don’t think you understand what I mean.”

D-16 vented, tapping a digit against the edge of the table as his optics carefully followed his conjunx’s every movement. The apartment they shared was small, but even then he had difficulty following the other mech. The problem with Pax - aside from sneaking out beyond curfew and causing minor infractions against the law - was that he had too much energy that sometimes Dee couldn’t believe he was merely an archivist.

Maybe that was why Pax snuck out so much, recording data all day wasn’t enough to deplete him of his energy reserves.

“No one has ever recorded what happened on the surface. This is a huge opportunity.” Pax let out a huge grin, his entire frame shaking, but not from fear.

“No, this is a death sentence.” Dee growled out, his voice box straining. “The head archivist wants you punished. The reason why we have no record of the incident is because—”

He cut himself off, terrified of even daring to mention the Prime’s designation.

Slowly, he stood up, reaching for Pax’s servo. He could feel the unstable whirr of his spark in his chassis.

“Pax—”

“Come with me.”

When they vowed their sparks to one another, when they first became conjunxes, D-16 did not realize how far of an extent he would have to go for Orion Pax.

His yellow optics trained themselves on Pax’s smiling face, sunlight from the open windows glinting off the metal that made Dee want to lean in closer and kiss him. 

“Pax—”

“It’s protocol.” Pax rolled his blue optics, unable to hide his blatant disregard for the rules for even a moment. “The head archivist has to send security personnel with me anyway, who better than you? Come on, Dee, what’s the worst that can happen?” “The Prime could evaporate us into atoms.” He deadpanned, shuddering at the countless stories of bots that had earned the Prime’s ire. That was why Pax, with his reckless attitude, would probably be the cause of Dee’s eventual offlining in the near future. If Pax didn’t somehow get them both executed, then he might just die from a sparkattack. 

“Prima Prime—” Pax cut himself off as Dee gave him a glare, raising his free servo to calm him down. “He hasn’t allowed anyone to know what happened all those cycles ago. As an archivist, I have to record this for future Cybertronians. I could be the one archivist who gets through to him.”

He let out a soft vent. When Pax set his spark to a task, it was impossible for Dee to get him to stop. 

Even now.

“Fine, but if by some miracle of Primus he decides not to offline us on the spot, then you have to promise me that we’ll leave if he tells us to.” He could hardly believe it, but as Pax processed his words, Dee knew he wouldn’t take them back.

He was coming with him.

—

Cycles ago, in a time neither he nor Pax could remember for they had only been sparklings, there were Thirteen Primes.

The Primes ruled over Iacon with a strict yet kind servo.

Then a war broke out between Cybertron and the Quintessons.

A terrible war that brought about much devastation and destruction.

In the end, the Cybertronians won the war.

But it was hardly a victory.

It is said that the Primes had gone to the surface to end the war, though for what reason the records could not say.

Iacon had continued on without them for several cycles.

Ultimately, all Thirteen Primes left.

And only one came back.

Prima Prime came back to Iacon all alone, his entire frame covered with spilled energon, the head of the Quintessons’ leader clutched tightly in his servo, and the Matrix of Leadership glowing bright within his chassis.

One would think that the end of the war would mean celebration.

But no one had dared to do anything at the sight of Prima Prime’s return.

There had been questions as to what had happened.

They had quickly stopped once Prima Prime began to tear bots into pieces.

Every mech and femme had realized that whatever happened on the surface, it was not an event that Prima Prime wanted to recount. The Prime had withdrawn into himself and his palace.

He still ruled over Iacon, but from the shadows and far stricter than the Primes had been before. It was as though all the kindness had died alongside his fellow Primes - and that was the conclusion most had come to.

After all, where had the other Twelve gone to? And what else could have happened that would cause Prima Prime to lose himself so badly?

It was an accepted fact that, somehow and in some way, the other Primes were dead and Prima Prime had been the sole survivor.

It was a tragic fact that nobody ever really brought up, for even the mere mention of the other Primes could be dangerous.

If Prima Prime ever so much as heard rumors about the other Primes, he would have the High Guard find the source and have the offending bot executed publicly.

That is… if you were lucky. A public execution was usually quick and painless.

It was those who were killed privately that had it worse.

It is said that Prima Prime tore into each and every atom until you were gone from existence.

Still, life in Iacon was good. It was merely a way of living that you did not do anything to earn the ire of Prima Prime.

And yet… here was D-16, following his conjunx - who he was sure had been deliberately assigned this task out of pure malice to get him offlined - into the very palace that housed the one mech that could make the end of their life as deliberately painful as possible.

He could only pray to Primus that Pax didn’t find a way to offend the Prime.

—

“I have told you archivists time and time again that the day I decide to tell you anything is the day that Cybertron implodes in on itself. How many broken frames must I send back to get it through your thick helms that I—”

Dee quickly grabbed onto Pax, pushing them both out of the way as a table came crashing past them, leaving a dent against the wall as it smashed into tiny pieces. The Prime stood by the end of the throne room, his dark gold optics glowing underneath the shade of the fabric canopy above the throne. 

He felt Pax shift in his arms, and he quickly cupped a servo before Pax could open his intake and protest. He gave his conjunx a stern glare before pushing Pax behind him. He would have to shield Pax until they got out of the room.

The moment he stepped forward, he felt those optics turn to him… and the whole room seemed to freeze as he stared into those molten gold.

It must have been only a few kliks, but to Dee it felt like orns had passed. Slowly, the Prime’s optics turned into a soft shade of blue.

“I��” The Prime stared at him, a lost look on his face before it settled into a detached stare. The room seemed to shake as the Prime made his way towards them, and while Pax had moved to stand by Dee’s side, it felt as though the Prime had put all his attention on only him.

He didn’t know what Pax felt, but as the Prime stopped to stand before them, Dee could only feel fear.

“... You are an archivist.” The Prime finally tore his gaze away from Dee and turned to Pax. “Very well, I will agree to this.”

He could practically feel Pax’s whole frame shaking from excitement. “Thank you so much, sir. I promise I’ll record down every detail—”

As Pax continued to ramble, the joy of getting to do his job taking over, Dee couldn’t help but sneak one last glance towards the Prime. 

The Prime’s optics were entirely focused on Pax, as though Dee wasn’t even in the room anymore. The Prime was even making polite conversation and nodding along.

It should have calmed him down. 

And yet… 

Dee didn’t know why, but as he looked away, he could have sworn he still felt watched.

—

Dee was starting to believe that Pax was blessed by Primus.

His conjunx had a habit of getting into trouble, but from some form of intervention - mostly Dee but even he couldn’t always be there - Pax always got out of any form of punishment.

Even now.

He stood by one of the palace windows, optics focused on as he Pax cheerfully interviewed one of the most terrifying mechs in Iacon.

The Prime hadn’t shown a single hint of aggression since they had arrived in the palace. He had allowed himself to be recorded, a fact that Pax continuously bragged to him about.

The Prime did not smile, but he had been so calm with his answers that sometimes even Dee was enthralled by the stories the Prime was telling.

He had agreed to eventually explain what had happened to the other Primes, but he had wanted to start from the very beginning, to a time when it had only been him ruling over Iacon. Then he would tell more stories about the other Primes before… the end.

Dee would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. While his main task was making sure Pax didn’t get them both executed, he couldn’t help but let himself be distracted. He never really understood why his conjunx enjoyed reading history, as Dee was mostly into reading about math or even the other cultures of other planets, but it was hard not to care when it was a Prime telling his life story.

“...And Maximo learned it was not sensible an idea to lie to me ever again.” The Prime finished, an amused yet affectionate tone in his voice. He had just finished recounting a story about Liege Maximo - the eleventh Prime.

“Of course, sir.” Dee wanted to laugh as Pax struggled to agree with the Prime, noticing how much his conjunx struggled not to let out his own thoughts. As nice as the Prime had been to them both, Dee had begged Pax to be respectable for the entire interview.

He watched as Pax looked down at the datapad, opening a blank page on the screen. “Sir—”

“As for Zeta…”

Dee couldn’t help but frown, an act that Pax mimicked as a look of confusion crossed his conjunx’s blue optics.

“Prima Prime, sir, the next page should be about Megatronus—”

There was a crack, and Dee quickly moved forward until he was standing beside Pax.

The Prime’s servos had clenched against the armrest of the throne he was sitting on, the metal creaking.

The Prime’s blue optics had drained into a harsh gold, the shadows casted by the canopy of garments that hung over the dais further darkening the rage that was building in the mech’s face.

“Get out.”

“Prima Prime, sir—” “GET OUT!”

Dee wasted no time grabbing Pax and hauling him out of the room.

The door panels slid shut behind them, but they did nothing to conceal the noise of screeching metal as the Prime tore the room apart.

—

“You do not talk as much as your archivist friend. Is your voice box broken?”

Dee felt a cold chill run deep within his coding and into his spark as a soft voice broke the silence. He leaned closer towards the door panels, as if he could force his silver frame to blend into them. His yellow optics turned upwards to meet narrowed blue optics. Pax had disappeared somewhere into the palace. Even under threat of being within the Prime’s palace, Pax still couldn’t help himself from sneaking around. Dee had tried to keep up but he wasn’t built for speed and had inevitably lost Pax.

“No, my Prime. I, uh…” He turned his gaze away, his tanks churning with the fear that was quickly overlapping within his HUD. Dee dismissed the popup warnings. The last thing he needed was to go into stasis lock in front of the Prime. “I don’t… have much to say. I was assigned as security for Pa— the archivist. I just want to focus on my job.”

Did he sound too rude? He hoped to Primus he didn’t. 

What would it say about him that he somehow offended the Prime when he had been lecturing Pax about not being rude.

“You appear quite close to the archivist. More than a professional relationship would demand. The guards have mentioned certain peculiarities.”

He felt his face heat up, his cheekplates tinging a dark shade of yellow. He told Pax it was a bad idea, but Pax had always been so clingy and he took every opportunity he could to hold Dee in berth that sometimes Dee would wake up in the middle of the lunar cycle, his vents overheating since Pax had enveloped him with his frame. 

It was only typical that Pax had reacted badly when they’d been assigned different quarters.

Dee would lock the door panels but he had never been good at saying no to Pax.

“I… I apologize, my Prime. The archivist…” He risked a glance up, feeling those blue optics never straying from his frame. There was a small frown on the Prime’s face.

He felt panic rise in his spark.

A look of indifference was the usual.

But a frown—

“Orion Pax and I… we’re conjunxes…” Dee didn’t know why he felt like he had been caught committing a great crime. “B-but we’re strictly here for work, sir. I can assure you that Pax and I—”

“Calm down, little one.” He felt the entirety of his frame freeze up, as though his entire system had completely locked up. The Prime had leaned down, a servo gently petting against the top of his helm. The frown was still there, but this time, Dee didn’t feel as threatened. “I merely ask out of… curiosity.”

There was a strange lilt to the Prime’s voice, and a part of Dee could feel as though the Prime was lying.

Not that he would ever dare call the Prime out on this.

“If it distresses you, I will change the topic then.”

Dee would have preferred the Prime leave him alone.

Instead, he gritted his denta and tried to look as grateful as possible. 

He really didn’t want to be ripped apart atom by atom.

“During the interviews, you stand at attention far from where the archivist is. This is not at all practical.” The Prime’s servo was still on his helm, even as the Prime leaned away, giving him space to properly vent. “I suggest you accompany me and the archivist. Sit down with us while he records and I recount my tales. I know you listen when I tell them.”

“...I mean no offense, my Prime.”

It was difficult to know if that was the right answer. If he lied and said he wasn’t listening, then the Prime might know he lied or take great offense that he just admitted he didn’t care about the Prime’s stories - which in itself was a lie because he did. If he did admit to listening, it just proved that he wasn’t taking his job as security seriously. He was assigned to make sure Pax came out of this alive, not to listen to what Pax was recording.

“I take no offense, little one.”

The Prime had let out a vent, a noise full of frustration that Dee really wished the Prime would just leave him alone.

His processor was overheating as he put all his energy into not saying the wrong word.

“It is normal to be curious about…” The Prime trailed off, his optics turning glassy as if he was lost in a memory. “I want you to listen, as much as the archivist does. You have the right to know more about the others, about who they were before…”

The Prime’s servo slid away from his helm, turning to his cheekplate.

“You look like him.” A digit gently brushed against the metal of his face.

He should be terrified, but Dee could only feel his spark thrum with pity and… to his own confusion, sadness.

The Prime’s voice had lowered into a fragility that spoke of so much loss.

“I don’t understand why.”

As if scalded, the Prime quickly tore his servo away, and Dee let out a vent he had been holding in. Once again, he wished he could blend into the door panels. Anything to get away as those blue optics turned gold once more.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

A growl tore past the Prime gritted denta, his servos clenching into fists by his sides. Dee took that as his cue to run past the Prime, terrified with each step he took that the Prime would chase after him.

Or worse, throw his sword at him.

But as he turned to cast one last look at the Prime, he saw him standing still at the end of the hall, those gold eyes constantly watching.

As he turned, his audials picked up the Prime’s parting words.

“You can’t have been alive this whole time. You can’t.” 

Then he was gone.

—

“Hey, you look like you’ve seen a sparkeater.” Pax pressed against him, his frame warm against Dee’s as he snuggled closer to his conjunx. Despite the teasing tone, Pax’s optics looked at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

He shifted his helm, his yellow optics memorizing every feature of Pax’s face.

After his confrontation with Prima in the hallway, a part of himself couldn’t help but worry about what might happen the next solar cycle. He let out a soft vent, closing his optics as he pressed his face against Pax’s chassis, listening to the soft thrum of his conjunx’s spark.

“I love you, Pax.”

He felt arms wrapped around his frame, and his audials picked up Pax asking him a question, or maybe making a stupid quip that would usually force Dee into laughter.

But he couldn’t hear it.

All he could think about was that this may be his last moments with Pax, and he wanted to remember this for as long as he was given to live. 

He wanted to remember Pax’s warmth. His spark.

When he didn’t respond to what Pax had said, he heard his conjunx let out a soft vent.

“I love you too, Dee.”

—

“Soundwave, the report, if you may.”

“Affirmative, my Prime. From data gathered…

Current designation: D-16. No other designation listed.

Current function: Security at the Iaconian Archives.

Current residence: Near the Kaon Section of the City, shared with another mech designated Orion Pax.

Current status: Conjunxed to Orion Pax—”

“Hm.”

“...”

“As you were.”

“Former caretaker: Terminus.

Carrier and sire: Unknown.”

“Status of his caretaker?”

“Terminus: Offline.”

“What a shame. His interrogation would have made this easier.”

“Soundwave: Permission to make a statement.”

“Go on.”

“Lack of past data indicates duplicity. 

Suggestion: Internal check of coding.”

—

“Where did you even catch a virus, Dee?”

Dee groaned, burying his face within the sheets of the berth, his frame aching from the movement. He could feel his insides overheating as his fans worked overtime.

This could not have happened at the worst possible time. He was on the clock. 

Dee rarely got a virus. 

Unlike Pax who tended to forget, Dee always made sure that his systems were in perfect condition because he couldn’t afford to be weak as a security mech. If Pax was lucky with Primus, Dee wasn’t, because only Primus could curse him like this. 

Pax was not helping since he could feel the other’s servos pressing against the top of his helm, as if that made anything better. 

“I-I need a medic.” He gritted out, his HUD flashing warnings of an imminent shutdown. It was an incredibly strong virus, and if he was in his right processor, he would question how it hadn’t infected Pax who had slept in the same berth as him for the past astroweeks. 

“Oh, right! Hold on, Dee!” He heard Pax’s steps momentarily fade away, his optics getting heavier as he tried to keep himself from falling into stasis.

He would have probably failed at keeping himself online if it wasn’t for the sudden noise of loud steps quickly approaching the berth. His spark jolted, a familiar fear tearing a momentary clarity in his processor as he forced his helm up. Blue optics stared down at him, and while Dee usually felt nothing but joy at the sight of blue optics - because that meant it was Pax - he could only feel terror as the Prime leaned closer towards him.

“It appears to be a bad virus strain. I did wonder why you two were not in the throne room.”

“I didn’t want to leave Dee alone.” Pax supplied helpfully, a servo reaching out towards him again.

He tried to reach for his conjunx, unsure if he was capable of handling himself against the Prime in his current state, but Pax never even got close to him.

The Prime, with a quickness that startled both of them, had quickly grabbed onto Pax’s wrist cables and yanked him away.

A tense silence filled the room, broken only by Dee who let out a short burst of static from his voice box, an indignant protest that was unable to form any words.

“Apologies.” The Prime didn’t even look at Pax as he let him go, those optics completely focused on Dee. “It could be contagious. I still intend for you to finish recording my personal statements and it would do best that you remain untouched by the virus. It is of no consequence, I will have my best medic run a diagnostics test on him. You may return to the throne room on your own. I will be with you in a moment.”

For the first time, Dee watched a look of fear cross Pax’s face. “Prima Prime, sir, wait I—”

“Starscream.”

Dee heard the sound of another mech’s footsteps enter the berthroom. From the angle he was currently in, he was unable to lift his helm and see who had entered.

“Escort him out, and send word for a medic.”

“Dee—” Pax’s optics turned to him, clearly wanting to reach out but unable to with the Prime standing between them. 

He tried to force a smile to his dermas.

This virus was not natural.

He must have offended the Prime, maybe their conversation in the hallway had made the Prime angry at him. 

But Pax didn’t have to suffer with him.

“I-I’ll be okay, Pax. J-just go…” His voice box strained, and he could feel most of his systems begin to shut down. “It’s okay…”

A look of grief flashed in Pax’s optics, and he looked like he wanted to say something more, but the unknown mech that had entered the berthroom - Starscream - had yanked Pax from sight. 

Dee felt his optics completely shutdown as soon as Pax was gone, his audials only picking up the opening and closing of the door panels before he was trapped in the room, at the mercy of an enraged Prime who wanted him dead.

He couldn’t muster any fear as he realized that his processor was still running at full force. Most of his systems had gone into stasis, but he was still conscious.

A servo was gently stroking at his helm.

The Prime didn’t say a single word.

After what felt like orns, he heard the door panels slide open once again. He heard steps approach the berth. There was the soft murmur of voices, too low for his audials to pick up. Then there was another pair of servos, these ones much colder than the Prime’s, cupping the sides of his helm.

Dee couldn’t so much as protest as he felt cables begin to latch onto the ports at the side of his helm. The virus had torn right into his firewalls. There was nothing to be done as he felt the presence of another mech enter his system. His processor protested, more pop ups of a shutdown filling his HUD.

But they weren’t aiming for his processor.

He didn’t understand, but he felt the invasive presence go lower and deeper within his chassis, as if searching for—

It wasn’t painful, but having another presence suddenly inside your spark was not normal.

But the worst part was…

It didn’t feel wrong.

He knew this presence.

From a time when he had been nothing more than a little spark himself. 

Deep down, his codes knew.

Sparklings usually orbited their carrier’s sparks before emergence, but they could still recognize their sire’s sparks despite that.

The presence finally disengaged, and he felt the cables detach themselves from his ports.

The sudden strain of the invasion, and the sudden reactivation of dormant codes, finally forced his processor into shutdown.

As he faded into forced recharge, he realized the Prime’s hand never stopped petting at his helm.