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realmsalot · 1 day ago

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Oh, How Forgetful Of You

Summary

After Stanley Pines falls through the portal, saving his brother in the process, Stanford has to make the hard choice of leaving him behind, reconnecting with his ex-assistant, and dismantling the portal. But after attending the equally fake and pitiful funeral held for his twin, Ford gets consumed by guilt and starts to remake his decision. Only for it to be unknowingly taken from him.

There's a hole in his mind where his brother should be...

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Or my take on a Reverse Portal AU! Specifically about why it takes Ford thirty years to get Stan back. Enjoy

Ao3 link

prev ch -- next ch

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Chapter 2 A1Z26

Chapter Summary

Soon after the corpseless coffin went into the ground, there's a conversation in a car parked in front of the mysterious cabin in the woods...

Or Fidds convinces Ford to grieve for his brother.

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Stanford had contacted Fiddleford not long after Stanley went through the portal.

He needed help to finish Project Mentem, a way to encrypt his mind – to get rid of Bill– and he was desperate. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open even knowing that as soon as he closed them, Bill would come out and destroy his potential chance of escape. He needed Project Mentem to be finished so he could encrypt his mind and get out of his self-inflicted hell. He didn't know how much longer he could wait. So he crawled back to his ex-assistant, who (unfortunately) knows how to make machines that affect the mind best.

Ford was prepared to beg, having just lost a brother, and reached a breaking point that even his pride couldn't overcome. But to his surprise, Fiddleford readily agreed. That was the second time that week that someone he thought wouldn't want to see his face again helped him.

Project Mentem was done in record time, and Stanford's mind was finally safe.

(At least he thinks so. Bill hasn’t possessed him since he had encrypted his mind, but could he be lulling him into a false sense of security? Making him think he is safe only to take anything he has left away when he least expects it. "We should make the trip to the unicorns, and get some of their hair, just to be safe,” Ford said to Fiddleford one night.)

Ford had expected whatever friendship or kindness or something that Fiddleford somehow still had left for him to end after that. For Fiddleford to then turn around and never speak to him again. He had betrayed him after all and that’s what he would do. ‘That’s what you did with Stanley,’ His mind reminds him.

But for some unknown reason instead, Fiddleford stayed.

“Only if you agree to destroy that- that monster in your basement,” Fiddleford said. Wide awake from the first true night's sleep he had in so long and vengeful at that accursed machine he had made, Stanford readily agreed. (Whether because of Bill’s betrayal or Stanley’s death, he does not know. He just wants that thing gone.)

And now, a few weeks of recovering from what Bill had done to his body, planning on dismantling the portal, and a conflagrant fake death later they were here. Fiddleford is pulling his car in front of Ford’s cabin after his brother’s fake funeral.

The inside of the car was quiet during the ride, Ford did not want to talk, and Fiddleford was seemingly unable to find any words to say considering Ford had caught him opening his mouth to say something only to close it a few times. Now in front of his cabin, neither of them is making any sort of movement that suggests leaving the car, and it's just as quiet. And Ford's thoughts are getting too loud.

He had killed his brother.

‘I need to get back to work,’ he determines. Stanford starts to unbuckle himself when Fiddleford finds his voice.

“So, I know this mornin’ you wanted to keep on workin' after the uh ceremony…” He pauses, taps his fingers on the steering wheel, and glances at Ford trying to see any change on his face. Ford grimaces. Yes, he wanted to continue working on dismantling the portal after the funeral. He remembers that this morning he had thought of Stanley’s funeral as an inconvenient pause in their progress of taking down the world-destroying machine. Stanley’s funeral, his own brother’s funeral, was an inconvenience! Even though it was he who had killed him. Stanford had killed his twin brother–

“But,” Fiddleford says, cutting through Ford’s thoughts, “if you need time to mourn we could put it on hold for now.”

“We don’t have time for a break,” Ford says automatically because it's true. They need to dispose of the portal as soon as possible. It doesn’t matter that the house and his brain are now safe from Bill. It doesn’t matter that all three journals are now hidden away from Bill’s reach. “The portal is too dangerous to keep up. It could destroy the world!” He says more forcibly. His logical mind trying to keep down images of Stanley going through the portal that start popping up unwelcome.

“I know that,” Fiddleford states. “Holy Mother Mary above, don't I know that, Stanford. But I also know that with the way it is right now there ain’t a snowball's chance in Hell that that there thing is gonna be activating anytime soon. Even if someone got your journals.”

Fiddleford is right and Ford knows it.

When the horrid machine turned itself off after devouring his twin he was left a crumpled heap on the floor staring at the beast, but that didn’t last long. Adrenaline, which was from a mix of what was left over from their fight and what he got from almost being eaten himself, coursed through his veins, he called his twin’s name, and he went for the lever. But just as he is about to flip it, he finally processes what he sees left of the doomsday device he made. A damaged wreck with no hope of reactivating. He calms his mind and starts to think logically about this. He came to this conclusion.

Stanley Pines always had a knack for breaking everything he left behind, and for once Stanford Pines is grateful for it.

Fiddleford leans over and puts a hand on Stanford’s shoulder. He meets his eyes. “Stanford, I know you hate to admit it but you're hurtin’ right now. You need time to heal from this.”

He pushes McGucket's hand away. “I already had time. Stanley has been gone for–,” he doesn’t know how long, “And before that, he hasn’t been in my life for a decade! His death doesn’t change anything!” It doesn't, doesn't it? He unlocks the passenger door. Ford can just keep on living– working like he’s always done for the last ten years. He leaves the car.

He needs to work, not take a break. Working on his academics is what got him through the first time Stan left. Why wouldn’t working on the portal get him through now?

Southern not-quite-cussing follows him out. “Stanford Pines! I know you! I know that since the accident you haven't been letting yourself think about it much,” Fiddleford yells behind him. Ford stops and turns around.

“What is there to even think about,” Ford yells back. “Stan is gone! He’s been gone for ten years and has been such a non-entity in my life that I didn’t even feel the need to tell you that he existed until he had already left again!” Stanley is getting into his car and yelling about not needing anyone. Stanley is falling through the portal and trying to say something to Ford but is consumed before he can finish a sentence. “Stanley is gone again and that’s it!”

“And that’s it? Stanford.” Fiddleford has caught up to him and he puts one hand on Ford’s elbow. The other hovers next to his face for a second before falling onto his shoulder. They’re both outside Ford’s cabin just two yards from the porch steps. Since the morning the fresh snow that had dusted Gravity Falls has turned into an ugly, muddy slush and the wind now feels too cold for Ford’s suit. “Your brother is gone and this time you can’t change that. You can’t send him a postcard or give him a phone call or nothin’. He’s in a place where you can’t reach him anymore. You can’t reach out to him or take back anything you might regret saying to him. You need to process that. So please Stanford, take a break and mourn.”

“Your brother is gone and this time you can’t change that,” Ford’s mind echoes. ‘But that’s not true, is it? You could get him back,’ a small but dangerous part of himself replies. He shuts that part down quickly. There’s no logical sense to hope that Stanley is anything more than dead behind the portal. If anything he should hope that Stan really is dead considering how Fiddleford reacted to his peak through the portal.

He takes a steading breath and removes McGucket’s hands from his person. “Fine. I’ll take a single day–” Fiddleford gives him a look “–a single week off to mourn for my brother. But not a day more.”

“I suppose I’ll take it,” Fiddleford sighs and then gives Ford a small patient smile.

Just what kind of friend was he? Not telling Fiddleford that he had doomed his twin to the same fate he almost doomed him to.

Ford looks away from his friend. “I need to double-check my taxes. That IRS agent was giving me odd looks and I don't want any of Stanley’s trouble with them on me.”

“Yeah, you should do that. I tried talking to him at the funeral and even when I pointed out yer six fingers he seemed unconvinced,” Fiddleford says, taking a step back. Ford hadn't realized how close they were. “Now, I er have a book club meeting I uh have’ta get to, but just remember I’m here for ya.”

Ford frowns slightly at the mention of the so-called book club. It’s something that Fiddleford had apparently started going to after sometime after the first portal incident. He doubts it’s an actual book club because when Fiddford first mentioned it while Ford was still recovering from the lingering injuries from Bill, Ford’s interest in it was quickly shut down with excuses as to why he wouldn’t like it. His current theory is that it’s a cover-up for something, but he doesn’t know what it could be a cover-up for. Fiddleford is not one for big secrets after all.

And yet.

“I really do mean it, Ford,” Fiddleford says, making eye contact. “I’m here for ya.”

He is hiding something.

Ford wants to find out. He wants to ask or follow his friend and know what he could possibly be hiding from him. But Ford feels a deep tiredness in his bones and knows that if he does any of that, it could potentially start a fight, and he doesn’t want to fight with his only friend. So Ford smiles, and if there was a mirror behind the engineer he would see that it is a similar smile that his twin would give to him after he asked him if he was alright, and says, “Thank you, Fidds.”

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A/N:

Hey, remember how I said this chapter was done in the last chapter? Apparently, that was a lie. I kept going back and working on this while writing chapter 3. Wanna know another lie? Remember how I said I would post this chapter when the third one is done? Well chapter 3 isn't done. But I feel that we need a little escapism right now so I'm posting it. Chapter 3 is actually longer than I expected, but that makes sense considering how much happens in it. (I'm like halfwayish???? there.)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the completely necessary chapter of someone telling Ford to take a goddam break because I doubt he would do so otherwise. I need you guys to know that in between Stan going in the portal in early February until Stan's funeral in like mid-to-late March Ford had been doing his damnest to keep his mind occupied, okay? Even when he was recovering from Bill. He's gonna need next chapter's break to really get consumed by the guilt. But yeah, see you next chapter.

#gravity falls #reverse portal au #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls fiddleford #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fanfic #chapter 2 #ao3 fanfic #forgetfalls au #my fic #ignore my rambling

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writeyouin · 12 days ago

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D-16 (Megatron) x Reader – The Creature From Another World - Part 2 of 2

Chapter 2 – Megatron or D-16?

A/N – Finally, it’s ready. Here’s hoping this holds up to part one.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Megatron held you at your request. He didn’t know why you wanted to be up, only that you did and he was only too happy to comply, and that he had to hold onto that feeling. You were the only thing he had left that brought him any shred of happiness. Everything else was a toxic poison coursing through his body, leaving only hate and anger in its wake.

You stood in Megatron’s palm, trying to see the D-16 you knew before in his optics. They were a violent red, leaving no trace of the warm amber glow his eyes used to have. Moreover, Megatron used to laugh and relay stories back and forth to you or Orion. Now, he mostly frowned.

You reached out to touch him, your hand falling to his chassis where a brand new Megatronus insignia had been branded onto him, covering over the one Sentinel had burned him with. Megatron had claimed the symbol, owning it for the new Decepticon army.

At your touch, Megatron vented a soft gust of warm air, wondering what you were thinking as you pawed at his insignia. He wished that you could see it as the symbol of a new age as it was supposed to be, but he guessed that you would always remember the one that Sentinel had marred him with. He would remember too. He had to.

After disappearing on his life-changing quest with Orion, D-16 had worried about you, but he figured that the other miners would take care of you. In that, he was only half-right.

When the miners were told that he and Orion had died from their injuries in the race, they panicked, scared that they wouldn’t be able to help you leave the planet since they were the lower class. So, one of them had taken you to Sentinel, explaining what you were and coming up with a cover story for how you had gotten on Cybertron.

Sentinel, having guessed that you were once a Quintesson prisoner, pretended to believe the story, and reassured the mech that he would see to it that his top-bots found you a way home.

After that, he kept you prisoner in a gilded cage, his pet now since you wouldn’t give him any information on the missing miners' whereabouts.

When D-16 and the High Guard were captured, you met D-16’s eyes and he became even more furious, wondering how you had gotten there and what Sentinel had done to you.

Before that day, you already admired D-16, but your admiration turned to complete adoration and contrarily, fear as he kept standing up in the face of adversity. He wouldn’t be kept down, no matter what they did to him. You cried to see your friend hurt, but you didn’t scream or do anything further to draw attention to yourself, afraid that if you did, Sentinel would torture D-16 further.

Now, you were here, on one of Cybertron’s moons in a base that the Decepticons had constructed very quickly, being efficient builders, and the war with Cybertron was about to begin.

Megatron lifted your hand with his free servo, gently rolling his thumb pad over it. He wanted you to see him, not the person he used to be behind the insignia. You stared up at him.

“Talk to me,” He told you, gently.

You took a minute to think about what you needed to say.

You understood why the Decepticons had to go to war. It was like Megatron said; when he tried to talk to them, they had clung to the old ways and a new leader had arisen to take Sentinel’s place. Another false Prime – Optimus Prime. He had attacked Megatron and the high guard and then banished them from their home under the threat that they would not be left for long.

Still, knowing why the war was happening wasn’t enough. You needed more than that. You glanced outside the windows of the command centre, seeing the High Guard working ceaselessly.

One more look to Megatron and you knew what you had to say.

“Is this the only way? To fight? To kill?”

Megatron was saddened to see you so upset, but he clung to his resolve, no mercy left within him.

“Yes. There is no room for a peaceful resolve unless those on the surface join our ranks.”

“Are you scared?” You asked in a very small voice, indicating that you were terrified for him.

Megatron stroked your cheek, “No, and nor should you be. I will keep you safe.” And he would. He would do everything in his power to protect you from harm, including lying to you to save you from anything that might hurt your feelings. You were his precious pet and Megatron always took care of what belonged to him.

Some of the High Guard wondered about you, a human among their ranks. They would have tried to research you, had there been any information about something so alien. But without their records from Iacon, they had little ability to look into your kind and simply decided to leave Megatron with his pet. Later in the war, they might have rebelled against you, but after Megatron’s victory against Sentinel, they trusted their new leader. It wasn’t yet time for schisms, underhanded plots for mutiny, or general scheming; those would come much, much later.

As it was, Shockwave was responsible for providing you with a home, and the process didn’t take him long. It was less of a room built for you, and more like furniture your size based on your descriptions that had been put into Megatron’s hab-suite.

When Megatron took you to see it, he enjoyed the way your expression lit up. He had almost reacted the same when he saw that he had his own room for the very first time in his life. Yet, he hadn’t been able to find enough joy in his situation. So, he had a room that he didn’t have to share with a few dozen miners. What did that matter when a war was brewing?

But holding you… Seeing you happy? That was worth something.

“Is this-” Megatron almost said to your liking, but decided instead to focus on functionality, “Is this adequate?”

You hopped off his palm and onto the desk that held just about everything you needed, which was a relief since you had lost most of the items in your pack at the Battle of Iacon. Trailing your hand gently over a bed, very robotic in design, but comfortable and made from repurposed cleaning cloths, you smiled.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Megatron ran a finger down your cheek, “No need to thank me.” He watched you as you moved things about, perfecting everything that you needed, and then later he watched you recharge. How perfect it was, giving you exactly what you needed. He would make you dependent on him; you would never need anyone else ever again. He would make you love him. After losing everything, he needed that much.

“Excuse me, Shockwave?” You said, feeling small. By now, you usually felt confident around Cybertronians, but you found Shockwave and some of the High Guard unnerving.

The Cyclops-Bot stared at you, saying nothing, and generally making you feel more uncomfortable.

“Um, Megatron told me to come to you if I need anything…?”

Shockwave didn’t know why you were saying it like it was a question. You were either told to come to him or you weren’t. Life had no place for statistical fallacy.

Seeing as he didn’t reply, you pulled your pack off your back, opening it for him to see the contents as you withdrew them.

“Each of these dehydrated cubes is a meal. I need to consume two or three a day,” You explained. “As you can see, I’m running low, and even if I wasn’t, this isn’t the best state for my food to be in. I need food. Real, fresh food, or- Or I’m going to die.”

Shockwave didn’t seem alarmed by the statement. He didn’t seem to feel anything. Instead, he glanced at your dwindling supplies, noting exactly how long you could survive. He didn’t understand much about your fuel, though he thought it inefficient as he scanned the contents, finding many perishable components, had they not been dehydrated.

Finally, after a long and stressful silence in which he examined both your pack and you, he relented. “I shall take care of it.”

You were so happy that you didn’t think to ask about the details of Shockwave’s plan. Instead, you smiled and bounced on the balls of your feet, “Thank you, Shockwave.”

Shockwave watched you walk away. He generally didn’t understand the concept of pets, but you were cute enough, he supposed.

Turning back to his newly set up data console, Shockwave began researching the nearest planets that were home to organic species. Seeing how small you were, he believed that organics would be easy enough to subjugate. With that in mind, he began drafting the first invasion plans. Not only would the Decepticons take the fuel you needed but they would also strip the planet of all its valuable resources, giving the Decepticons a technological edge over the Autobots. Later, Megatron would tell you that the Decepticons had made trade deals with several organic planets, never revealing that you were the starting cause behind his slave empire, and you would be spoiled with lavish gifts, ignorant of their origin.

Starscream stared at your sleeping form and then back to Megatron.

“I can’t look after this thing,” He argued.

Though Megatron had bested Starscream once, he hadn’t yet grown to fear his master and as such, was testing his limits.

“You can and you will,” Megatron ordered.

There were arguably better candidates to care for you, especially Soundwave who was used to smaller beings from playing host to some Cassettes. But this wasn’t a question of who you got along with or who would be best suited to watch over you. It was a test of allegiance. Besides, the more bots that Megatron kept on rotation to ‘pet-sit’ you, the more would know how to care for you when he was away.

Megatron needed to see you taken care of, even if he didn’t like leaving you with others, especially if he thought of them touching you. He shouldn’t care this much, but the last person he had entrusted with you had been the very one to betray him. He didn’t want to think of you trusting anyone like that traitor Orion… Optimus. He didn’t want any kind of bond like that in his life again, not for himself or you.

Standing his ground while Starscream prattled on about being the Commander of the High Guard, Megatron snarled. He pointed his cannon at Starscream which was enough to make the weaker mech backtrack, begging for his life.

“You will do as I say.”

Starscream nodded, holding his hands out in surrender, “Yes, of course. Your pet will be well cared for, Megatron.”

“That’s Lord Megatron to you.”

“Of- Of course. Lord Megatron,” Starscream bowed, humiliation coursing through him; it was a feeling that would one day transform into loathing. Megatron left his subordinate, satisfied with how easy it was to subjugate another to his will. He wondered how you would look bowing to him, then turned his mind against such thoughts. He didn’t want to frighten you into worshipping him; he would become someone worthy of your adoration.

You mumbled D-16’s name, waking from a deep sleep. Had you been more alert, you might have thought about how worrying it was that you had come to rely on Megatron so quickly or that you had called him by his old name and that he was no longer that bot you met just a short while ago.

Instead, your thoughts were disturbed by Starscream throwing you some new clothes that Shockwave had acquired from another planet. They were the vestments of the Royal Family until Megatron had ordered their deaths; now the clothes were yours, and far superior in quality than your previous garments.

“Put those on,” He ordered, not caring whether you did or not.

You blinked owlishly at Starscream, having never been left alone with him before.

“Where’s Megatron?” You asked, despite being somewhat used to his leaving regularly to attend meetings, start trade deals with other planets, or draft new battle strategies.

Starscream rolled his optics, “What a clingy pet. Can’t you be away from Megatron for a few kliks before whining?”

You scowled at the mech, “I’m not a pet.”

“And I’m not a pet-sitter, but here we are,” Starscream griped.

You shook your head and got to work tinkering with some little projects you had started. During the Battle of Iacon, most of the items had been damaged when you fell on your pack. Fortunately, having worked on the Translator for so long, you weren’t bad at mechanics now, though a lot of your tinkering was mostly experimentation. So, rather than waste any time conversing with the bot who treated you like an unwanted mutt, you continued your work on your new shower unit, since your collapsable service station needed some repairs in that department and regrettably, you were starting to smell.

When Megatron returned he was injured, having lost to Optimus Prime for the second time. The loss enraged him, but it didn’t worry him. Optimus may have had the power of the Primes, but Megatron learned a lot from that battle, and in the end, he was certain that his strategy and cunning would win over Prime’s strength.

Besides, it hadn’t been a total loss. The other Decepticons had managed to spread their message through Iacon, and there were already a handful of bots who had returned to the Luna base with Megatron. With the new recruits all ready for an uprising, Megatron was preparing to send some of them back undercover, so they could further spread the message of the Decepticon cause.

Before entering his hab-suite, Megatron straightened up, hiding most of the damage behind bravado, despite the energon that leaked from his side. There could be no signs of weakness.

He expected to see you in his hab-suite, but you weren’t there. So, Starscream had taken you elsewhere. Megatron was about to begin repairing himself when he heard you cry out. It was faint, and more of a shout than a scream, but it sent him spiralling all the same.

He ran to find you, following the sound of your voice.

“GET OFF,” You shouted.

Megatron ran faster.

“STOP SQUIRMING!” Starscream yelled back.

Megatron burst into the wash racks, finding you soaked in Starscream’s grip, the water washing over both of you. Starscream was tugging at your old clothes, partially victorious as the seams ripped, uncovering your arm and part of your chest. You gritted your teeth and slapped at his hand.

Seeing all of this, Megatron gritted his dentae and smashed into Starscream, being careful to grab his arm and pull you from his grasp.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Starscream demanded.

Megatron held you against his chassis possessively, “When (Y/N) says stop, you stop. Their commands are my commands. Now, I demand to know what you were doing to my pet!”

You stared up at Megatron, shocked that he would call you such a thing. He knew what you were now, so why would he treat you like an animal? You didn’t like it.

“I’m not a pet,” You murmured, but neither mech seemed to hear you, glaring at one another in a silent power struggle.

Losing his nerve, Starscream bowed his head.

“I was merely washing your precious pet,” He sneered. “It stank.”

“Not a pet,” You repeated, but your words fell on deaf ears.

Starscream got up from the floor and sauntered out of the wash racks. Megatron’s optics tracked him, all the while a seed of hatred forming for his Second in Command. When Starscream was out of sight, Megatron held you up for inspection. You had your arms crossed to protect your chest, and you were staring angrily down at the floor. The water made the remains of your outfit cling to you, making you feel even smaller and more vulnerable.

Honestly, Megatron had little right to be so furious at Starscream. He too didn’t understand the significance of your clothing, only that the coverings were important to you.

“Are you okay, pet?” He said, gently stroking your cheek.

You pushed his hand away, “I’M NOT YOUR PET!”

Megatron stared at you, open-mouthed. You’d never yelled at him before.

“Do you get that?” You asked, brow furrowing. “You used to, but it’s like you’ve forgotten. I’m a person, just like you. Do you understand?”

Megatron thought back to the person he had been, comparing it to who he was now, and who he wanted to be in the future. You wanted D-16 back, but he wasn’t that anymore. Yet… Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be D-16 around you, just a little bit.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I never meant to imply-” He sighed, “I’m sorry.”

For the moment, it seemed that D-16 was back, and things were just like they had always been. You were about to say something equally sentimental, until you saw the trickle of energon, washing down the drain.

“You’re hurt!”

Megatron shook his helm, “It’s nothing.”

“No,” You cried out. “It’s not nothing!”

“I’ll patch it up in our room. You can take care of yourself there too.”

You were staring at him. Megatron couldn’t help smiling a little at your concern. As promised, he had patched himself up with a welding iron. It had been painful, but he hadn’t shown any signs of it.

You meanwhile, were in your new clothes, having sorted yourself out and dried off.

Megatron stood from his chair, leaving the tools he had used for self-repair on the desk.

He scooped you up, holding you to his face, “I’m alright. I promise.”

You shook your head, unwilling to believe him. Megatron chuckled, supposing that you couldn’t believe it since such an injury would have been fatal to your kind. Yet, he was wrong in trying to guess your thoughts. Physically, you knew Megatron would recover easily, but to recover psychologically? You wondered if he ever would.

Maybe it was because of everything he had gone through before you met, being a slave to a corrupt system, or maybe it was because of Orion’s death, but despite his apology earlier, you couldn’t help seeing the difference between D-16 and Megatron.

Still, he hadn’t abandoned you, and you wouldn’t abandon him. Megatron was going through something traumatic, and as he said, the war was inevitable. It would be hard on anybody, and you wanted to help him through it.

You glanced down to his welded side which he would undoubtedly buff out later to make it look as if nothing ever happened.

“Does it still hurt?”

Megatron couldn’t help adoring the soft melancholy lilt of your voice; the concern that was all for him.

He tilted your chin up so you were looking into his eyes instead of at his failure, “It hurts less when you’re here.”

Your eyes flicked towards Megatron’s lips and you felt your cheeks start to burn. Lately, you had begun imagining things. You wanted to be closer to Megatron, to share some intimate moments with him, but that was impossible; you two weren’t the same.

Seeing your flushed skin and your darting eyes, Megatron smiled, looking the closest to being D-16 that he had in a while. You were so easy to read.

Perhaps it was time to show you the little trick he had been practising; it would leech him of his energy but he was certain that it would be worth it.

Megatron lowered you to his desk.

“Close your eyes,” He requested.

Although you had a lot on your mind, you did as he asked; at that moment, you knew you would have likely done anything for him.

Megatron mass displaced so he was closer to your size. It was difficult to become so small, but he managed to shrink down to around nine feet. Originally, mass displacement was taught to working-class Cybertronians so they could shrink down and enter the Underground to make repairs. Everyone was told that it was more energy-effective than using mini-bots, but the truth was that mini-bots were kept as slaves, being seen as even lesser than the worker-bots; they were hardly worth keeping online, and nobody in the Senate wanted to risk giving them repair tools for larger jobs in case they started a rebellion.

Now, Megatron had also learned mass displacement, for you.

He placed a servo to the small of your back, giddy when you opened your eyes in shock. He traced down your jawline with his other hand, lightly thumbing over your chin. How perfectly you fit against him now.

Dipping down, he pressed his lips to yours. Metal against flesh; two different worlds colliding.

You gave yourself over to him.

Little was right in your life since you were taken by the Quintessons, but this moment was perfect… Or it would be if you could fight the niggling in your mind that warned you all was not right with the Decepticons. Megatron’s servo bunched in your hair. You moaned against him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You could ignore those thoughts. You had to. Needed to. What else could you do when you had foolishly let yourself fall in love?

As Megatron’s paramour, you were given more freedom as Decepticon successes rose. Or rather, you were given the fragile illusion of more freedom. You were taken to the few organic planets that Megatron had made ‘trade deals’ with thus far. The threat of their destruction kept the people in line, and you were treated with all the respect of a visiting dignitary. If you tried, you would have seen the terror in the faces of those conquered, but with Megatron distracting you as if you were on a date, you chose the easy path. It was easy to run from suffering when you didn’t want to believe in it.

You were given a communicator which Megatron told you had been built for you, but it had actually been ripped from a now deceased Autobot’s helm. You were provided anything you needed, and more beyond that. However, all of it ceased to matter on the day you saw Orion Pax, alive and well.

Orion Pax, now Optimus Prime had received word that Megatron had conquered a nearby planet and enslaved its people. Fully believing that you had perished in the Battle of Iacon, the Autobot leader vowed to free the planet your name, knowing that it’s what you would have wanted for your organic kin.

That was when you both saw each other, Optimus lowering his blaster and you standing atop Megatron’s shoulder.

“Orion,” You breathed his name, barely loud enough for anyone to hear, yet Megatron heard; how could he not when you were standing right next to his audials?

Megatron glowered at Optimus, feeling extra possessive of you since the Prime had stolen everything from him and banished him from his home. He wouldn’t be allowed to take you too.

Megatron grabbed you roughly, partially transforming his chest cavity and shoving you inside. His pet, his lover, his possession, his captive; you were his! Optimus glared at Megatron. Keeping you captive was not an option, he would not allow it. Pointing at his ex-friend, Optimus gave the command, “AUTOBOTS, ROLL OUT!”

Megatron shook with rage, fear, sadness, hatred.

He held your lifeless body in his cupped servos. Granted, Optimus Prime had held back in the fight, but his damned Autobots hadn’t, and now you were gone.

You were the last thing Megatron had and you too had been ripped away from him.

That was it then. No more mercy, no more holding back. No more attachments.

All Autobots would be scrapped, and all the worthless organics of the universe would be destroyed or enslaved. Megatron refused to ever get close to an organic ever again. None would ever make up for you and he would not risk opening his spark to another being.

Ha, that was a joke. He couldn’t offer his spark to anyone anyway. It had been snuffed out. He was hollow. Just a shell for the seething rage to fill.

He was Megatron, and he didn’t need anybody.

He left your body to burn in the ashes of the organic planet, but Optimus picked you up, determined to give you a proper burial. To the Prime’s surprise, he saw you take in a tiny breath of air. You weren’t dead, but you would be if he didn’t get you away from the dying world. You needed air, you needed a doctor, you needed freedom.

354 notes · View notes