#hey at least he's not having to clean up after the decepticons

[ichbinmeltdown]

I guarantee that Spike has tried to get the Autobots to do yard work and stuff for him

Sparkplug just goes up and says "Hey Spike, I'm doing some work on the house, I'm gonna go to Lowe's and get some supplies. While I'm gone I want you to clean up the backyard" and then once Sparkplug leaves he just runs to the phone and goes "Hey Prime what's up? Listen, can I get y'all to come help me with something real quick?"

And then when Sparkplug is driving home a few minutes later he hears all this thumping on their block and is like "wtf is that?" then sees the Autobots in the backyard, picking up stuff and moving big rocks and whatnot

Then he just runs up and goes "Spike!!! I asked YOU to help clean up the backyard, not the Autobots!" OP bends over and says "Spike. You didn't tell me Sparkplug asked you to help him." and Spike just laughs nervously

A few minutes later Spike is at the Ark, sweeping and mopping the floor for them. He's pouting and OP is saying "This should make up for not cleaning the backyard. Hopefully you'll learn your lesson about not trying to get someone else to do your work for you."

[autobots-in-training]

The Firing of (ex)Doctor Moros

So i accidentally answered an ask mentioning this character without actually posting the fic, sorry about that! My head has been a little bit of a mess lately!

Now, before proceeding, PLEASE read the warnings. I mean it. None of the things mentioned are written in explicit detail, I did a lot of research, as well have experience dealing with some of this.

TW: the following is mentioned and discussed, but not written in detail, child medical abuse, child abuse, child sexual assault, child in emotional distress, parent loss, queer slurs(dr moros does call 2 of the kids a slur outright, but not to their faces).

If you think any of those will cause you to spiral, or cause you emotional distress, please, take care of yourself, and skip this fic.

Rung does his therapy thing, but i studied graphic design and photography, i don't know the correct etiquette for a therapist talking to a small child that has experienced something traumatic. And i don't remember how my therapists treated me when i was a kid.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59713495

"Sunny!! Sunny, you won't believe what i found while Bee and I were chaperoning First Aid and Springer on their little date!" Sideswipe burst into the room he shared with his twin and Bumblebee.

When the red twin got no answer, he looked around the room. He was about to leave, it seemed like no one was there, when he heard a quiet sob.

"Sunny?" he approached his twin's bed. "Hey, Suns, you alright?"

There was only a sob under the blanket. Sideswipe sat on the bed, trying to get his twin's attention.

"Hey. Sunstreaker? What's wrong?" he asked.

The blanket was thrown, and his twin threw himself at Sideswipe, hugging him tightly.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

Sunstreaker said nothing, he just cried. Sideswipe soothed his twin, trying to calm him down.

Finally, a while later, Sunstreaker backed up, enough to look at his twin.

"Do... do you think that Ironhide hates us?"

"Huh? Why do you ask? D-did he say something to you? Did he wake up?" Sideswipe asked. Ironhide had been injured in the last Autobot vs Decepticon battle. He'd been in a coma since then.

"He didn't... I-I went to visit him, in the morning. I just wanted to keep him company, even if he's not conscious. I didn't have anything to do today, so I just wanted to be there for him! A-and... The-the doctor that was keeping watch on his vitals... He said... W-well, he made this noise, and when i looked at him, he said th-that Ironhide is probably happy he's unconscious!"

He took a deep breath. "He said that 'Hide is probably glad he doesn't have to deal with us right now! Because we're troublesome, and annoying! That we should be glad he picked us up off the street, that he should have just thrown us back! He hates us, Sides!" Sunstreaker sobbed into his hands.

"I'll kill him! I'll kill them both!" Sideswipe stood up, tried to march out of their shared room, Sunstreaker stops him before he gets too far. "He said that to you! He has to be lying, 'Hide loves us, i know he does!"

"Sides. please. I... I don't want to cause any trouble... I just want to forget this. I-I only told you because I knew you wouldn't drop this. Please. Just stop." Sunstreaker begs.

Sideswipe sighs. He's angry. Ironhide loves them. Why would he stay their guardian if he hated them?

"Can we at least tell Rung?"

Sunstreaker shook his head.

"Sunny, please. You're a mess, let's just go talk to him.

"... Fine. You're coming in with me. Please."

"I will. We're siblings, I'll be there with you whenever you need me."

They hugged, Sunstreaker held his twin tightly, Sideswipe hugged back just as tight.

Now. Time to talk to Rung.

-

"Ironhide is still recovering, but the rest of the medbay is free after the battle from a few weeks ago. You've probably noticed, but the medbay has become quite a mess since then." Ratchet sighed, he sounded tired. "So we will be concentrating on cleaning and restocking supplies today. Nurse June will have your assignments, Velocity and I still have some paperwork from before the battle, so we'll try to catch up on that."

Nurse June directed the other doctors and nurses on their assignments for the day.

"Cass, you and Luke are cleaning the medical beds in the front of the medbay, Sarah, you'll be continuing your work from yesterday-" Nurse June kept going, telling everyone their assignments, Cassandra and Luke got to work.

They both worked in relative silence. They weren't super close, even if they had both started working with the Autobots at around the same time, a few months before.

"CARRIER!"

The sudden commotion startled all the humans in the vicinity.

Cass looked up, and saw the ambulance kid and the green kid, holding hands. She couldn't remember their names yet, but she did know that the ambulance kid was Ratchet's son. However that worked.

"First Aid-" that was his name! "How many times have I told you not to yell in this medbay!"

"Sorry carrier! We asked Prowl if we could go to the city today with Bee and Sideswipe, he said yes, if you also say yes!" First Aid said excitedly, swinging their hands back and forth.

"Those two are such sweet kids." Cass said, mostly to herself.

She smiled at how cute the boys were, when she heard her coworker wretch behind her. Cassandra turned quickly, feared that Luke was getting sick.

"Are you OK-" The concern died when she saw that she was giving such a nasty look towards the two boys just asking to go out to the city.

She knew that look. When she came out at school, when she brought her first girlfriend to meet her parents, when her coworkers at her first residency found out she lived with a woman...

Cassandra barely heard what Luke said next.

"I finally get to work with aliens, and they turn out to be fags." Luke spit out, his voice dripping with disgust.

It took every fiber in Cassandra's being to not say anything. The fear of Luke blowing up at her, she was terrified, the memory of being attacked verbally by her old boss, she didn't want that to happen again.

She said nothing.

-

Mirage and Illusion were having a lazy late morning.

Illusion was still small enough to lay on Mirage's chest without denting it. She was tapping his chest lightly, following some rhythm only she understood.

The racer checked his internal clock, and started getting up.

A little whine came from the youngling. Mirage chuckled.

"Come on, its nearly midday, we can't lay around all day." he said.

"Can." she said simply.

Even if they had been on earth for nearly a year now, Illusion still didn't use full sentences in English.

Mirage fully stood up, Illusion latched on to his chest. He chuckled again. "Illy, disengage your magnets"

She just shook her head.

"Illy, your physical therapy appointment is soon. You can't stay on my chest all day." Mirage supported her back. "You have to let-"

He had to turn down his hearing, after Illusion let out a shriek.

"No! No no no!!" she disengaged her magnets, Mirage would have dropped her had he not had his hand on her back.

Mirage knew something was wrong. Ever since they arrived, and Ratchet had started giving Illusion physical therapy, she'd been so much happier, she'd been having less pain. Her reaction... it worried him.

"Illy, what's wrong, my spark? Can you tell me in cybex?" he switched over to their native language. "Illusion, what's wrong?"

Illusion just kept screaming.

He couldn't do this alone.

Mirage called his conjunx.

"Hound!" he yelled into his comm, not even greeting his partner.

"What's wrong?" Hound was immediately worried.

"Please tell me your shift ends in the next minute, I need your help, right now." Mirage was still rocking Illusion back and forth, trying to sooth her. "I have to use private comms because Illusion won't stop crying! Please, please, please come back to the hab!"

"I'm on my way."

It took half an hour, but Hound finally bursts into the habsuite. He immediately turns down his hearing, Illusion's cries being to much for even his ears.

Mirage was pacing back and forth, rocking Illusion, trying to get her to calm down, he was crying as well.

It shattered his spark to see this. Illusion hadn't cried like this since they arrived on earth. Ratchet had helped them figure out why she was always in pain, why she was never comfortable.

"What happened?" Hound asked through private comms.

"I told her it was almost time for her physical therapy, and she started screaming 'no'! I haven't been able to calm her down, and I'm scared!" Mirage cried. "Hound, what if this joint thing is getting worse? What if physical therapy isn't helping anymore? I don't want her to be in constant pain again! I can't do that again!"

Hound grabbed Mirage's shoulders. "Raj, look at me, its not going to come to that. You're panicking, and that isn't going to help anyone. Maybe Rung can help us calm them down. You just said physical therapy and they freaked out?"

Mirage nodded.

"Alright. We're going to Rung, he's helped us when she was scared and wouldn't stop crying before. He can help us again." he cupped Mirage's face, the racer closed his eyes and leaned into the hand.

They made their way to Rung's office. Illusion's cries giving them a wide radius of space. A bitlet's cries hurt to a Cybertronian, it could burst a human's eardrums.

Once they arrived to the hall where Rung's office was located, Hound ran ahead, knocking rapidly on his door.

"Hello?" the petite doctor answered the door.

"Rung, please tell me you don't have a patient right now."

"Drift just left a few minutes ago-"

"Please, help us with Illusion." Hound interrupted him. "She started screaming and crying when it was time for her physical therapy, and she hasn't stopped since."

"Shouldn't Ratchet be helping you with that? He can reassure her-"

"Rung, this is not normal for her. She's always excited to go, it helps her feel better. Before these regular appointments, she was in constant pain." Hound started "She used to be nervous about it, but she loves them now. Something happened, Ratchet is busy with patients right now, I passed by the medbay, some idiot started a fight in the rec room."

Rung took it all in. "Seems like this does concern me. Call Mirage over."

Hound turned to Mirage, who'd stayed quite a bit away from the door, so that Hound could explain what was happening.

The couple entered, Illusion still crying and screaming. Rung gave them a sympathetic look. He offered his arms, Mirage passing Illusion to the doctor.

He was able to get the toddler's attention with a small toy, who quieted her screams to a whimper.

Mirage and Hound sighed in relief.

"Illy, can you tell me what happened? English or Cybex is fine." Rung said in a gentle voice. "What upset you so much?"

Illusion rubbed her face, lowered her gaze to the toy in her hands, and whispered. "Bad... bad doctor..."

"Who was the bad doctor?" he asked, already making some connections in his head.

"H-human..." she said.

Rung nodded, smiled at her, and looked at her creators. "Were either of you with her during her last appointment?"

"We were both on a mission. When we can't go, some of the younger humans accompany her, sometimes Hot Rod." Mirage said. "I thought Hot Rod was there with her."

Illusion shook her head.

"You were alone?"

Illusion nodded.

"What did the doctor do?" Rung asked.

The young bot hugged the toy. "T-touched... valve."

All three adults felt their sparks stop for a moment.

"I'll kill them!" Mirage stood up abruptly. "I'm killing the doctor and Ratchet for letting this happen! I'll make them both regret the day they were born!"

Hound grabbed Mirage, stopping him from storming out.

"Mirage, i understand your anger, but you're scaring Illusion." Rung said calmly.

Mirage had been struggling in Hound's hold, looked over to Rung, and saw his young child, barely not a bitlet anymore, holding onto Rung, she was shaking. He stopped struggling, after a moment, Hound let go.

"Please, stay with Illusion, she needs you right now. I'll talk with Ratchet, I've known him since his days in the Academy of Science and Technology. He wouldn't have let this happen, I'll get to the bottom of this, do not worry." Rung assured the small family, he carefully passed the calmer toddler back to Mirage. "If you'll excuse me, I'll see if Ratchet has a moment between patients. I'll find you in your habsuite."

"Thank you Rung." Hound said, before the doctor left.

"Of course, this is my job." He gave them a warm smile.

Time for a long overdue talk with Ratchet and Agent Fowler.

-

Luke Moros was arrested.

It brought little comfort to the people that had been at the end of his cruelty.

Sunstreaker still felt like Ironhide hated him. No matter how much her twin told her that was irrational, no matter how much Ironhide showers them both with affection, more than before, she still heard a small voice in her head that said that he was tired of them.

Cassandra, even after being reassured that she did the right thing telling Ratchet about Luke's behavior, she was terrified that someone just like Luke would end up working here again.

It took a long while for Illusion to not panic whenever it was time for her physical therapy again. Even longer to trust the humans again.

The human agents, in charge of hiring and firing human staff in the Ark, had to make their screening process even stricter. Make even more thorough, borderline intrusive background checks. The Autobots became more involved in the process.

They would not let their children come to harm again, if they could help it. Be it from Decepticons or humans.

[seehowsupplethespineis]

The Decepticon House of Frights! (Part 2)

(Yeah, so it is WAY past Halloween. I got really busy all of a sudden and had to put all fanfic on hold. That being said, here's part 2! I expect to have much more free time in a couple weeks, so hopefully I'll finish the rest of this story soon.)

(Warnings: None)

(Part 1)

(AO3)

Megatron’s schemes were usually ridiculous, but this one topped them all. Relying on a human custom? Had he lost his processor?!

Idiot Megatron, Starscream groused to himself, If I were leader, you’d never see me-

“Could you hurry it up?”

“What?” Starscream nearly veered off course at the rude interupption to his thoughts. Ahead of him, Thundercracker continued smoothly. Anyone watching would assume he was the one in charge. The very notion was mortifying, prompting Starscream to redouble his speed to zip past him.

“Don’t go blundering ahead of me,” the lead Seeker sniped, “You don’t know where you’re going.”

“Then fly faster,” Thundercracker replied with some exasperation, “Quit dragging your thrusters.”

“Don’t talk to me that way! I am your superior! This is my mission!”

“And what is the mission again?”

Starscream resisted the sudden urge to blast Thundercracker out of the sky, “We are going to lure those stupid Autobots into a trap.”

“Right, right…How are we doing that exactly?”

In answer, Starscream transformed back to bot-mode and touched down on the side of a road. When Thundercracker joined him, Starscream proceeded to open his cockpit and rummage inside, eventually pulling out a large, rolled up sheet of canvas.

“What’s that?” Thundercracker frowned.

Unable to resist, Starscream bonked him on the head with the sheet, “This, my rust-headed friend, is what will lure the Autobots to our ‘haunted house’,” He couldn’t help the disdain that creeped into his voice at the last two words. Human customs. What a waste of fuel!

Rubbing his head, Thundercracker glanced at the sheet, then at their surroundings, gaze alighting on a nearby billboard, “Oh, so we-”

“Yes!” Starscream shoved his comrade over to the billboard, “Now hurry up before any Autobots come along!”

Each taking one end of the canvas, the two seekers stretched it over the billboard, which currently displayed an advertisement for some human eatery. When they were done, Starscream stepped back to admire the handiwork. He still thought this whole plan was stupid, but he had to say that his part in it was flawlessly executed.

The rumble of engines forestalled his self-admiration.

“Quickly, behind those rocks!”

At least Thundercracker paid attention this time. Ducking behind the rocks, the jets waited in silent anticipation as the engines grew closer.

“Hey, look at that!”

Starscream couldn’t prevent a devilish grin as the engines came to an abrupt halt.

“Look at what, Ironhide?”

“That billboard! Spike was just telling me and Bumblebee about these. Apparently they’re good for testing bravery and whatnot.”

“Sounds like a hoot!” The other Autobot - Jazz, Starscream was pretty sure - replied, “Any music involved?”

“I dunno. Have to ask Spike,” Ironhide’s engine rumbled speculatively, “Says here this haunted house is happenin’ in a few days. Perfect timin’!”

Jazz’s engine revved in enthusiasm, “Well, let’s finish our patrol so we can get back and tell everybody!”

“Race you to the next checkpoint!”

“You’re on, Ironhide!”

A cloud of dust billowed up as the two Autobots raced away. Starscream waved it away with an irritated servo. How the Autobots could stand such filth was beyond him.

“It worked!” Thundercracker cried happily.

“Of course it did,” Starscream chastised, “This was my operation, after all.”

He waited a few more astroseconds until Ironhide and Jazz were well and truly far enough away, then gestured to his companion.

“Come on!” He stood to his feet and brushed some dust from his cockpit, “Let’s get back to base so we can clean off this filth.”

“It’s not so bad,” Thundercracker replied mildly.

Starscream paused to glare at him, “Well, if you’d rather be a ground-hugger like those wheelbound idiots, be my guest!”

Without waiting for a response, Starscream leaped into the air and took flight, leaving Thundercracker coughing in his wake. Megatron expected them to report in before the Earth’s sun set, and it was getting late. As always, Starscream chafed at having to report to someone else, and as always he reminded himself it was only temporary.

One day, Megatron, he vowed, One day I will be leader, and you won’t see me using some stupid Earth tradition to win!

“You coming?”

Startled, Starscream realized that Thundercracker had, once again, overtaken him.

“Out of my way!” he cried, and, practically crashing into the other Seeker, hastened to take the lead once more.

[theforestghost]

The Consort and the Warlord Ch16

Summary: Megatron uses the All Spark to gain access to Cybertron and demands a peace treaty. An Autobot Consort is offered and Optimus is chosen. A Bonding Ceremony takes place and now Optimus has three vorn to figure out exactly what Megatron wants to do with Cybertron.

Pairing: Optimus Prime x Megatron

Continuity: Animated

Status: Ongoing

It didn't take long for Optimus to get used to his new post as Ultra Magnus' secretary. The first cycle was spent shadowing him, learning his schedule and being introduced to other mechs that Optimus has never met. A second cycle to be introduced to the Council, to go over everything that Megatron had done and a third cycle to test the oils and start working for real. By the fourth cycle, Optimus was certain he could do most of the filing himself, only needing to ask Ultra Magnus about specific data pads or how he wanted a meeting rescheduled. Before then, Optimus hadn't realized not only how many meetings that his leader went to but how many fuelings he took with Council members, politicians and nobility that made up upper Iacon. Optimus was grateful that he didn't have to go to any of these; knowing full well he couldn't handle the high scale lifestyle thry afforded. Though he was still introduced to each bot when they met up before being dismissed for the cycle. 

It was on the fifth cycle that Optimus met Sentinel Prime for the first time since returning to Iacon. The mech gave him a disgusted look but sauntered over like he was the most powerful mech there. With little hesitation, Sentinel draped his arm across Optimus' shoulder kibble like he'd done countless times in the past. Optimus felt a bit of panic sink in his tanks as his processor tried to figure out exactly what Sentinel wanted.

"Hey there, Optimus old buddy." Sentinel began, his tone not nearly as condescending as Optimus was used to. "I hear you've gotten yourself back into Ultra Magnus' good graces and even got yourself a spot in Council meetings. Must be nice having someone do all of the work for you."

"Let go, Sentinel." Optimus said, stepping out of the other mech's hold. He ex-vented in relief when Sentinel didn't try to touch him again. "It's only a temporary position until everything with the Decepticons is figured out."

"Of course it is!" Sentinel scoffed, shrugging and stepping closer to Optimus once more. "After all, a position at Ultra Magnus' side is meant for better bots than you."

"Like you?" Optimus goaded.

"Obviously!" Sentinel exclaimed. "I am his right servo mech! I'm the closest to being the next Magnus and you're just his glorified secretary bot! Though even that's too good of a position for the likes of you!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Optimus asked, clenching his servos.

"It means that once Ultra Magnus remembers how much of a frag up you are, he'll send you straight back to repairing space bridges where you belong!" Sentinel got in close, jutting his digit against Optimus' chassis. "Because that's all you deserve, that or cleaning gutters!"

As Sentinel walked away, Optimus said nothing. How could he when Sentinel wasn't wrong? He was a frag up who didn't even deserve to lead a space repair team and his own selfishness had led to them being offlined. Instead he trudged back to his habsuite, a small accommodation near the tower that Ultra Magnus had set up for him. Another thing that was far nicer than anything Optimus deserved. 

The habsuite was sparce of anything personal, rented furniture and appliances decorated it without a single piece of individuality. Optimus just didn't see a point in trying to make the place feel like home when it could be taken from him at any time. And aside from the short commute to his current place of employment, the only nice part was the nice view it gave him of Iacon being on the top floor. Another aspect that Optimus knew he shouldn't have but at least he could appreciate it whilst he did. 

Like usual, Optimus entered the habsuite, turned on the lights and immediately collapsed onto the small sofa occupying the living space. The large windows showed him a beautiful sky as Hadeen began to sink but Optimus found himself too tired to appreciate it. His conversation with Sentinel kept playing over and over in his processor and while he couldn't fault the mech, part of him thought that Sentinel hadn't said everything he'd intended neither. Like he was holding back and knew something Optimus didn't know and wasn't allowed to know. Sentinel was never good at hiding things.

Optimus decided that pondering such things would just cause him more stress than he already had. Instead he opted to take a shower, refuel and get some work done to prepare for the next cycle. That would get his processor off of things and let him focus on what was truly important, like the five meetings and two meal plans Ultra Magnus had the next day on top of his normal work. The schedule would be tight and Optimus couldn't falter, not at a time like this. 

So he got up and made his way to his berthroom which was right across from the wall of windows. The door opened automatically for him and he'd just made it to the attached wash rack when he heard the sound of pede steps coming from the other room. At first he thought he was hearing things but a shushed curse came along with a dense thud and now Optimus was sure someone had broken in. Pulling his axe from his subspace, he opened the door to face his intruder but froze.

There, taking up most of his living space and with his back kibble to rhe window, stood Megatron. Shadows cast in front of him, red optics glowing above as they stared down at Optimus. They grew wider just slightly before narrowing as the warlord took a step closer to Optimus and reached out his servo. Optimus took a step back in panic, his kibble hitting the wall behind him as he pointed his axe at the Decepticon in an attempt to keep distance between them. Megatron stopped, looking at the axe and then back to Optimus who glared at him, fear leaking from his field.

"Optimus-" Megatron began.

"Stay away!" Optimus shouted. "H-how did you get here?"

Megatron glanced back and Optimus followed his gaze to the wall of windows where one was opened. He didn't know they did that. Why did they do that?

"Why are you here?" Optimus asked. He wanted to comm for help but feared the moment he tried, Megatron would attack. Right now he seemed non-threatening but Optimus knew that could change in a spark beat.

"Why do you think?" Megatron asked. He didn't like how Optimus was behaving. At first he thought it was an act and somebot was watching but the fear he could feel was real. Something happened to his consort and Megatron would find out what.

"I won't go back!" Optimus protested. "Not after what you did to me!" He tried pushing himself against the wall more– he wanted to disappear right into it.

"And tell me, what did I do to you?" Megatron asked, stepping closer. Maybe not the wisest idea, but he needed answers.

Optimus hesitated, panic visible in his field and features. He readjusted his grip on his axe as his pedes shuffled a bit to keep him from falling. "Y-you attacked me! You held me down and tore out my Autobot mark!" Optimus shouted. "And when I tried to escape you beat me till I was nearly offline!"

"You removed your mark of your own accord." Megatron stated firmly. 

"Liar!" 

Optimus lunged forward, bring his axe down ad best as he could. But raw emotions did not make for accuracy and Megatron easily disarmed him. As soon as his axe hit the ground, Megatron pulled Optimus to his chassis with one arm, holding him securely despite the feeble protest the smaller bot continued to give him. These stopped though when Megatron brought his servo to Optimus' cheek plate.

"What have they done to you?" Megatron asked, his voice stressed as his field washed over Optimus.

The small bot looked at his captor in shock at the confusion, the pain he felt coming from Megatron. Why was the one feeling pain? It should be him who was hurt after everything! 

Megatron was a master manipulator! He was gas lighting him!

So why does he seem so sincere?

No it's a lie! A trick! 

So why does being next to him feel so safe?

"Hey, Megatron can I come in? It's scary being out here?"

Optimus froze. He knew that voice, he'd never forget it. He struggled a bit trying to see who Megatron was now turned to and when he finally got a glimpse, it was of the bright yellow armor. Brightened by the sun and full of color stood a mech Optimus thought was dead.

"Bumblebee!" Optimus exclaimed, relief riddling his voice as he nearly collapsed against Megatron in surprise. The warlord tightened his grip to steady the smaller bot before letting go. Optimus practically ran to the small bot, hugging him close before looking him over frantically.

"You're not offline!" Optimus said.

"Well I mean I almost was coming here." Bumblebee retorted. "Megatron just grabbed me and we flew here and he just left me on the sill. I can't fly!"

"Ultra Magnus said you were offlined. You and the others…" Optimus said in disbelief. 

"Woah woah, wait, he said what?" Bumblebee asked. "All of us are still kicking! Even Ratchet surprisingly."

Optimus finally sank to his knees in defeat. He didn't understand. Had Ultra Magnus lied to him? But why? He covered his helm with his servos, trying to put together everything but he couldn't remember. He only remembered being attacked by Megatron and then waking up in the medic bay in Iacon with Ultra Magnus. Nothing else!

Megatron knelt beside Optimus and carefully tilted his helm towards him with a servo under his chin. Optimus was panicked and clearly trying to figure things out but Megatron knew that he couldn't. Not by himself. In all honesty only Primus knew how Megatron was able to stay so calm himself because now that he knew that Optimus had been messed with, he wanted to raze all of Iacon and have Ultra Magnus' helm on a pike. But no, he couldn't do that, not after everything his mechs have done for peace, not after everything Optimus had done to prove they could live together despite their differences. So instead he spoke as calmly as he could and hoped that his consort could understand.

"Optimus, I need you to listen, don't interrupt and let me finish everything I have to say." Megatron began. He didn't start until Optimus finally gave him a small nod, optics locked. "Your memories have been tampered with. The events that you recall, our fighting, the removal of your mark, the demise of your team and anything else have been fabricated by Ultra Magnus to turn you against me.

"I can't say I know everything but my guess is he intends to use you to respark the war. He and the Council don't approve of the fact that the civilians want to integrate with us and so they have manipulated you into being their martyr."

"That's not true!" Optimus began, leaning towards Megatron as anger began to build. 

"Is it not?" Megatron asks. "Then why were you told that your team is offline but here stands one of them? Why were you told I ripped your Autobot mark from your when your own medical records show the surgery done by your own medic?"

"Why should I trust the biggest liar in the galaxy?" Optimus argued. 

"Your council has held that place far longer than I've been online!" Megatron retorted. 

He stood now and looked down at Optimus. He knew that it wasn't his consorts fault. If what he thought was correct and Optimus had under gone shadow play than there was no way he could do anything. But it was frustrating! It was frustrating to see the mech who'd opened up so much to them and their culture be reduced back to the single processor views of the Autobot indoctrination. And it was even more frustrating that Megatron could nothing about it at this time and neither could he take Optimus with him. 

If Optimus had truly been subjected to shadow play, then he needed to change his approach about the entire situation. Grabbing him and bringing him back to Kaon by force would be counter productive and could very well make things worse. He also needed to find a bot familiar with the procedure so he could find some way to reverse it. Sure he'd never heard of such things being done or being possible but he wouldn't just let Optimus go back to being a drone of rhe Council's, not after everything the two had been through. So instead, Megatron turned back to the window and grabbed Bumblebee by his scruff. 

"I will leave for this cycle but I'd suggest asking your Magnus about the questions you can't find answers to." Megatron said before jumping out and flying off.

Optimus knew he needed to report this. Primus he should've reported it the moment he saw the warlord but instead he sat on the floor of his habsuite as Megatron’s figure disappeared along with the rest of the light of Hadeen. And when the sky finally turned dark and the first moon came into view, only then did Optimus stand up and close the window before making his way back to his berthroom and collapsing on his berth. He didn't have the energy to deal with anything for the remainder of that cycle.

When the next cycle came, Optimus found himself outside Ultra Magnus' office with datapads in servo and a knot in his tanks. The knocked over sofa from the cycle before proved that Megatron had in fact entered his habsuite and had not been some nightmare Optimus' stressed processor had created. And the fact that he had walked there meant that his decision to not report the break in was also true and his guilt began to eat away at him. But Megatron’s glyphs played on repeat in his processor and he needed to ask at least one question to his leader. 

So when he finally entered and found Ultra Magnus already at his desk, he decided that running away was not an option. Gathering every bit of courage he had, Optimus walked up to the large desk and waited for Ultra Magnus to notice him. When the large mech finally did, he put down his datapad to give him a polite greeting. 

"It is good to see you, Optimus, did your recharge well?" Ultra Magnus asked, his optics looking the smaller bot up and down.

"Ah, I-yes I did, thank you for asking." Optimus lied. His grip on the datapads tightened but he would not falter now. "Ultra Magnus, sir, could I ask a question?"

"You may." Ultra Magnus answered.

"Did you lie to me about my team being offline?" Optimus asked quickly. He looked down at his pedes in shock. He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that! The entire scenario he'd spent half of the night cycle trying to figure out having gone out the window. He couldn't look at his leader now but when Ultra Magnus said his designation, Optimus had to look up.

"Why do you ask that?" He narrowed his optics, suspicion radiating from him despite his tightly closed field. Optimus felt his tanks sink.

"I-I saw Bumblebee on my way to my habsuite." Optimus said carefully. It was a lie, he was lying but he just couldn't bring himself to admit that Megatron had been in his habsuite the night cycle before. 

Ultra Magnus let out a deep vent before sitting back in his chair. Optimus glanced up at him and it was obvious that his leader seemed annoyed by what he said but not necessarily upset.

"I believe I told you they were compromised." Ultra Magnus began. "I meant it in that they were persuaded to join the Decepticons. When you took it as them being offline, I figured that was easier for you to accept at the time than knowing that your team betrayed you."

Optimus said nothing. It made sense. Bumblebee had been pretty comfortable around Megatron, something he never would've been. Then did Megatron bring him to try and sway him to his side? Optimus couldn't remember how the speedster or his other team members interacted with tge Decepticons. Did they get along? He couldn't remember…

"Optimus." Ultra Magnus spoke his name loudly. Clearly it wasn't the first time he'd been called.

"I apologize, sir." Optimus said quickly. "I was caught off guard seeing Bumblebee again."

"I should've explained the situation once you'd settled down but now that you know, I expect you to treat them as you would any other con." Ultra Magnus spoke coldly, like he wouldn't accept any different. 

And with a heavy spark, Optimus agreed.

[littlesmokesceenfan]

Xan you share some Sentinel headcanons in general?

I really like seeing what you come up with!

- Back in the academy days Sentinel would definitely be the type to be like "hey guys watch this " try to do a backflip in front of his friends yet up failing misery

-when he get really really bored of a discussion or meeting. He just straight up back out or day dream until it over

- ever since Ultra Mangus got attacked, Sentinel was unable to relaxed or take a break since he was too busy making sure that Cybertron doesn't go into a full on panic along with his duties of being the temporary Mangus . So when all the decepticon were finally catch. Sentinel finally was able to recharge himself and relax after weeks of stress..(this is pretty much just Sentinel fainting on the Cybertron equivalent of a bed and finally getting some sleep)

-definitely use his lance to reach thing from high places.

- Sentinel use his position of temporary Mangus to get into fun places when he isn't busy and he being Optimus with him. Optimus actually have more fun then he thought he would when Sentinel drag him to this place.

- this is not really a headcanon but I think it would be funny if Sentinel ranked every planet he visited and put it on a tier list. Cybertron is the only planet on S Tier so far.

-have secret spoon collection that he will never tell anybody about since he doesn't want to admit that he actually do like some things about earth.

- when he isn't suddenly attack or ambush, he actually a pretty decent fighter (I refused to believe he actually terrible at fighting, at least give him one thing that make him deserve his rank. You know it never make sense to me that Optimus is stronger than Sentinel since Sentinel actually got into Elite Gaurd so you would think he would have more training than Optimus right? But apparently not )

- cries under his battle mask and does it when no one is looking since he doesn't want to look weak.

- when Elita "dies" Sentinel would hold on to everything that she left behind especially her old academy room. Sentinel would go inside of Elita academy room and clean it. Making sure that everything is in perfect condition. Even After the events of Predacons rising, Sentinel would still clean it yet it would take longer than usual to step into the room...

-definitely use to pull pranks during his academy days.

[lostinthelightsofcybertron]

i said, “I’d never fall in love again”

@cuppajj gave me permission to write a fic for my oc and LL! ty so much, i love your ocs and aus, so keep up the good work!

Pairing: Havoc x SG! Lost Light

The Lost Light.

It was a fitting name for a lost ship, Havoc thought, as he walked the halls. the halls were torn, and the floors were covered in dust, probably due to no one being here in a very long time.

But, if no one was on the ship.

Why did he feel optics on his treads?

‘probably just an old camera or something. C’mon, havoc! Stop being a wuss!’ But Havoc couldn’t help it, this place was fraggin’ scary!

Every time a door opened to a habsuite, there was at least 3 bodies in each. there were carvings on the walls, saying something about ‘don’t trust it!’ or ‘it keeps you’.

The whole place gave him a weird vibe and he didn’t like it one bit.

---’Pulse to Havoc, do you read me Havoc? over’---

---’Pulse, stop being weird, this is not a movie, for Primus’ sake’---

---’Negative, will not comply. Over’---

Havoc Shook his helm, since he and his friends binge-watched old off world films, Pulse became obsessed with ‘radio lingo’. it was silly, but it made him happy, so he left it be.

---’Any info on the lost light?’---

---’Went missing about 600 years ago with about 270 crewmembers, autobot crewmembers.’---

Okay, now that sent a shiver up his spinal strut. autobots? as in, Orion Pax? as in the war lord who killed millions??? yeah, no, he was leaving this ship.

---’i’m leaving, no way in hell i’m staying in this scrap heap.’---

---’Negative, Havoc we need something from that ship, to sell, or else we can’t leave this lifeless planet!’---

Havoc gritted his dentaes, by Unicrons Good Graces, Pulse was right. if they can get something to sell, they can’t get the fuel for the shuttle.

---’fine, but i’m gonna stay near the hanger, at best, the Medibay.’---

---’affermative, over’---

Pulse killed the comms, and off havoc went, unbeknownst to either of the two young decepticons, they weren’t leaving. ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello.” a voice appeared behind the young mech, seemingly out of nowhere.

“OH UNICRON!” Havoc schreeched, turning and letting his light alluminate the mech. 

they were tall, and a brownish purple color, with a red visor. and an autobot symbol on their chest oh gods-

“Hey, hey, I’m not going to hurt you. calm down young one.” Their voice was soothing, but had a deep edge, like it was trying to cut something, and made him relax against his will.

“Your a decepticon, aren’t you? hmm, most likely joined the faction after the war, your not even fully matured, a new spark.”

a servo patted the Mech’s helm and the autobot looked him over.

“I-If you think you can scare me, th-think again!” He was terrified, shaking and sputtering like an idiot. 

“Hmm?” The autobot’s visor flashed red, “Oh, i didn’t mean to scare you, My name’s Light, and i’m a former autobot. defected but just never changed the sigil.”

okay, seems hella fishy, but okay.

“You came to loot the ship right?” Light asked, turning their helm is a cyber pup like manner.  “Y-Yeah, i, uh, need fuel for my space craft, enough to get to the next planet for a teleporter.”

“Ah,” Light smiled, an unnerving one but a smile no less, “If it’s valuables you want, the Bridge or captain’s quarters might have something. plus, could use some energon, wouldn’t you?”

Okay, yeah that makes sense, the bridge and captain’s quarters were most likely to have something worth anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Bridge was surprisingly clean, no spilled energon, and no bodies. 

but, there was something in the captain’s chair, Havoc couldn’t see it from the doorway.

so he moved closer.

oh god.

oh god.

It was, it was the body of an autobot, a prime. Rodimus prime! the infamous autobot who set decepticons on fire. his body was void of any color, and had mixed body parts. 

Havoc ran, or tried to. As soon as he ran to the doorway, it slammed shut. 

“Don’t leave, little one, stay with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For years, Pulse searched for his friend, but both the lost light and Havoc disappeared.

He should have never convinced him to go that damn ship.

Now Havoc was gone. No one believed him, and no one would ever.

And now, Havoc belonged to the lost light. in every way possible.

[silkling]

Kinda weird idea based off of yes-i-write-fanfiction Feral Baby Soundwave Au. I just to see how you would write it

To the anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took so long to get around to it. I had a lot of trouble figuring out which continuity I wanted to write for. yes-i-write-fanfiction wrote a lot for G1, so I didn’t want to do that, but I couldn’t think of a good way to write feral Sparkling Soundwave for any other continuity. Then I finished watching Cyberverse, after I’d taken a break when Cheetor died because I needed the time to process that. So after I finished CV, I realized this prompt could fit.

So, in honor of Cyberverse ending, I’m setting this in that. This is during the time they’re still on Earth, when the humans have discovered the, but before Starscream was killed. Now, on with the show!

———————————————————————————————————

The battle was, as most battles on Earth were, rather anticlimactic when all was said and done. Ever since Bee had found the Ark and woken them from stasis, they’d been getting into scuffles with the Decepticons that almost never amounted to much. They were at a stalemate until they could leave the planet for Cybertron, and everyone knew it. At this point, the fighting was really just to for the sake of appearances.

And Hot Rod was quite sick of it. The humans knew about them and stayed firmly away from both the Nemesis and the Ark, so any amusement to be had from the locals was null and void. Unfortunately. And with Optimus getting increasingly ansty to return to Cybertron, most bots were focusing on repairing the Ark so they could leave.

But he was digressing. They’d been fighting the Cons, like they did every Earth week. The battle had ended with a bang, at least. Courtesy of Wheeljack, of course. One of his new inventions has blown up. Again. No one was supposed, really. But hey, it’d scared the Cons into retreating so Hot Rod wasn’t complaining.

But now he, and all the others left behind on the battlefield, were stuck with clean up duty. Which basically meant they had to go over the area and make sure nothing Cybertronian was left behind when they returned to the Ark.

The speedster looked around, spotting Optimus by a pile of rubble. He trotted over, helm tilted. “Hey, Optimus!” He greeted cheerily. “You find anything?”

Before his leader could answer, there was a beep from under the rubble.

The two bots looked to each other, then without a word bent and got to work shifting the rocks away to unearth whatever was hidden beneath them.

Which turned out to be…Soundwave?

Yeah, that was definitely Soundwave. But…smaller. And weirdly proportioned. His limbs looked almost stubbier. Honestly, if Hot Rod didn’t know any better, he’d say that Soundwave looked like a Sparkling. Which was ridiculous. Of course he knew better.

Soundwave beeped again, startling the two stunned Autobots from their staring.

“A Sparkling.” Optimus said, optics wide.

See? He knew it wasn’t a Spark-

The frag did Optimus just say?

“Come again, boss bot? Cause I think I just heard you say that the mini Soundwave is a sparkling and not, you know, mini-fied.”

The Prime shot him a bemused look. “Mini-fied?”

“Yeah, you know. Made mini. Probably Wheeljack’s fault. Soundwave was close to the epicenter of the explosion when his new invention blew. I figure it went wrong and made Sounders small.”

“No, Hot Rod.” Optimus chuckled, mask sliding away to shoot his soldier an amused look. “I suspect your theory on Wheeljack’s machine is correct, but he is most definitely a Sparkling, not just mini.”

“Seriously? How do you know?” he squinted. “Is it a Matrix thing?”

“I have seen Sparklings before, Hot Rod.” Primus informed him dryly, still clearly amused.

Before he could question that further, another beep from the blue Sparkling interrupted them. This one sounded distinctly displeased.

Optimus snapped his attention down, and Hot Rod watched as he bent and reached out for the tiny form. “Hush now, little one.” he crooned. “I apologize. I did not mean to ignore you. Come, let’s get you to Ratchet.”

Hot Rod didn’t get why Optimus was acting like that. This was still Soundwave, wasn’t it? Unless…unless he didn’t remember? It would make sense, if he’d been reverted to his sparkling frame. Plus, if he remembered, or at least remembered clearly, he’d definitely have tried to attack them. So the little guy probably didn’t remember much, if he remembered anything at all.

He was torn from his musings by a startled yell from Optimus, and looked over quickly to see the Prime holding the Sparkling in one arm, while the other was held very tightly in the tiny Soundwave’s denta. The little bot was making an adorable snarling sound, tiny digits unsheathed to claws and digging into Optimus’s armor seams while his equally tiny fangs dug deep into his servo.

Oh, wait. That was energon. Optimus was bleeding. He yelped, leaping to action at the same time as several others who has slunk closer while he and Optimus had been talking. Bumblebee reached them first, but as soon as his servos made contact with the infant a single servo freed itself to swipe at the scout’s held out palms. Bumblebee retreated with a squawk, and Windblade surged in, her optics narrowed as she grabbed the Sparkling before he could claw her and tried to pry Soundwave off Optimus. He dug his tiny claw back into the Prime’s arms, but released his denta from his servo to shriek in protest in tandem from his squealing, snarling engine.

“Windblade, stop! You’re scaring him!” Optimus said sharply.

Windblade obeyed, but was clearly unhappy about it. “I’m scaring him? He’s a Con! Pit, he’s Soundwave! And he’s attacking you!”

“He is a Sparkling! I do not believe he has his adult memories. We are unfamiliar and frightening and he is scared.” Optimus rebutted firmly, voice raised over Soundwave’s wailing.

Hot Rod shook himself from where he’d stopped when Soundwave attacked Bumblebee. He stepped close enough to try and help, reaching out to touch the tiny Sparkling. “But can’t we get him to let you go?” he asked his Prime.

Except…at the sound of his voice, the Sparkling went quiet, and at the first touch of his digits Soundwave loosened his grip on the Autobot leader. Hot Rod continued with his original goal, and was very surprised that he was able to pull Soundwave away from Optimus without issue. He half-expected the Sparkling to go feral again as soon as he did and attack him instead, but all he did was stare at the racer past the little red visor while Optimus’s energon stained his unmasked mouth. Hot Rod held him under his arms, his pedes dangling as he stared at the tiny, now silent Sparkling.

“Uhhh, Optimus?” he said, confused.

The Prime was silent, and then he tilted his helm, holding his injured servo in his uninjured one. “Hold him securely, Hot Rod. Against your chest, one arm underneath him to support him and one around him to keep him to falling from your hold.” he instructed.

Hot Rod blinked, but obeyed easily enough, and when he did Soundwave curled up against his chestplate and his visor went dim as he offlined his optics. He stared down at the Sparkling, then looked up to Optimus.

“Uh…what now?”

“Now?” Optimus said, his voice serene. Hot Rod didn’t like it. He also didn’t like the look in his leader’s optics. It was too blank. Too peaceful. “Now, you take care of him. I’m putting Soundwave under your care until we can figure out what to do. I am going to take the others and return to the Ark. I suggest you take a longer route back, perhaps he will fall into recharge. When you return, take him to Ratchet. He’ll need to be looked over.” Then, that said, the Prime folded down to alt-mode and drove away.

Windblade followed suit, and the others around the battlefield did as well. Bumblee, the filthy traitor, just shot him an amused grin and then he too was transforming and driving away.

Hot Rod was left alone with the Decepticon-Spymaster-turned-Sparkling on the empty battlefield. “I was right.” He said to no one in particular. “I didn’t like what he said.”

He turned to the Ark, helm tilted. Then he looked down at Soundwave. He was curled up, frame relaxed and expression peaceful. He looked kinda cute, actually. Hot Rod felt his spark soften a little. Then Soundwave snuffed and pressed his face to his chestplates, and his spark softened completely.

He sighed, shaking his helm. Okay, he couldn’t be too mad. He’d had plans today, but he’d figure things out. He looked back up towards the Ark, and a distant mountain caught his attention.

An idea came to him, and he perked up.

Sure, he had to care care of Soundwave, but no one had said he couldn’t have fun while he did it. As long as it was safe, of course. And who knew, it might even wear the bitlet out and get him to recharge better.

“So,” Hot Rod said, grinning and looking down. As if sensing he was being talked to, Soundwave looked up, visor brightening. The speedster got the impression he was being focused on intently. “How do you feel about sledding down a mountain?”

———————————————————————————————————

Optimus just gave a feral sparkling to a a reckless dumbass. He’s going to have regrets, once the implications of his actions catch up. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to do anything about it. Soundwave goes feral with everyone who isn’t Hot Rod.

Anyway, hope y’all liked that! I had fun writing it, once I finally figured out what the hell I actually wanted to do with this prompt. Now to move on to the next one.

Until next time, folks!

[darkwalk]

Sideswipe’s Very Good, Very Normal Day

Story snippet for TGAU - we’re taking a break from the Autobots weirding out the Decepticons and stepping back into the Darklight for a day with Sideswipe.

.

.

Lights walked into the room with her arms out wide like she was asking for a hug. “There’s my favorite mech!”

Immediately drawing back with wide optics, Sideswipe asked, “What did Jazz do?!”

“That glitch is dead to me.” Her smiled flipped into a scowl. “He ate the last of my candy without telling me.”

“And Cypher and Stillbite?”

“Helped him find my stash, for a fee of several rust sticks each.” 

“Ouch.” He agreed, moving to keep at least one of the club’s tables between them. “Sooooo..... does being your favorite get me out of defense practice for the day?”

“No.” She smiled, pulling out a knife.

Sideswipe grinned back, fake as hell, before bolting out of the room with nervous laughter. Cackling, Lights tore after him. 

.

“But imagine! It would be so smooth, gliding around the tables and going back and forth between the bar and-”

“You’re not wearing skates while you’re serving.” Stillbite stated, one optic ridge raised as he cleaned the glasses. An amused smile crept across his face though.

“But it would be cool!” Sideswipe pouted, dramatically sprawling across the counter. Arson trotted over and started sniffing at his helm. He lifted it up enough to see her and start scratching behind her audios.

“Very. But do you know what’s not cool?”

He thought about it. “Falling on my face?”

“And destroyed dishes, damaged furniture, lawsuits from injured customers, and Bass coming over here to complain that we’re copying the Bassjackers thing.” At Sideswipe’s blank look, he sighed. “Most of the Bassjackers use skate mods to get around quickly, remember? It’s their thing. In several of their bars, their servers wear them too, but they also have a floor space designed for people to skate around. The tables here are too close together and to the dance floor. Even if you know how to skate and were a master at it, someone is going to bump into you.”

“Booooooooooooo.” Sideswipe moaned, reaching over to cradle Arson as he gave her a belly rub. “You think it’d be cool, right? I am very cool. Even if I can’t skate on the job.” The cat only meowed at him.

.

“Do you think Cypher can read minds?” 

Without even looking up from his datapad, Sunstreaker answered, “No.”

“But he just knows things!” 

“Hm.” 

Sideswipe scowled, leaning over to see what was so interesting. It looked like that booklet on colors Sunstreaker had gotten from work and a datapad with a bunch of frame designs. Which was interesting. But not as interesting as Cypher potentially being psychic. Narrowing his optics, he continued. “Maybe he has cameras hidden all over the club.”

No response.

“It probably isn’t just the club, I bet he has them all over the Darklight. Maybe in our apartment. Or, he can actually read minds.”

Still no response except for some scrolling.

“And he’s collecting enough blackmail information to build an army of people who have to do what he says so he can take over all of Polyhelix-”

“Who’s taking over Polyhelix?” Orion asked, closing the apartment door behind him.

“Orion!” Hopping up, Sideswipe ran over to give him a hug.

“I’m taking over Polyhelix?” The mech replied, mouth twitching into a slag-eating grin. Sideswipe scoffed, whacking him in the arm as his brother finally looked up to greet their amica. 

“How was work?”

“Alright. Nothing interesting today.”

“Can you take that one out for a walk? Glimmer wants me to read through these and he’s incredibly distracting.” Sunstreaker ignored his brother’s exclamation of ‘Hey!’. 

“Sure.” Orion agreed before turning to Sideswipe “Feel like bugging Fracture for stories?”

The red mech paused his excitement as he realized Sunstreaker suddenly looked interested and was giving his datapads a long look as if trying to decide if he could put his work off. Grinning, Sideswipe wiggled in place. “Absolutely. I bet he’ll have even better stories than last time-”

“I’m coming too!” Sunstreaker rolled off their couch and stalked over. “Honestly. I just wanted to get my work done....”

“Anyways......” He shared a silent laughing look with Orion as they all stepped outside. “I think Cypher can read minds-”

[writeyouin]

Tfa request #1: what is the thoughts of bumblebee/jet twins/ blurr/ sari ( when she’s a teen! ) who has a crush on a dorky yet kind hearted person and what is thier reaction of when they kiss s/o, she fainted or got a nosebleed...( this happened to me but I fainted =u=|| )

TFA X Reader Inserts – Blowing a Gasket

A/N – Hey anon, hope you had a good birthday. Here is a gift for you.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Bumblebee

“YEAH,” Bumblebee cheered, punching the air victoriously. He was the only one who had opted out of the nature walk that Prowl had planned, and without Sari who was with her father for the day, he was left alone with the video game console.

You had dropped by only a little earlier to see everyone and had opted to read your book until they all came back. Normally, you would have played something with Bumblebee, but he seemed to be enjoying the single player game so you had left him to it.

“Nice job,” You said, looking up at the screen and seeing that he had finally gotten the golden relic he was after.

“Nice job?” Bumblebee repeated cockily. “I think you mean that I’m the king of ALL videogames.”

You snickered, “That is so precious. You want to talk to me about being the best player, then come back when you’ve got a platinum relic.”

Bumblebee tutted, “Those are impossible. Nobody can win one.”

“Move over amateur,” You said, taking the controller from Bumblebee and moving the small bandicoot on screen onto a level you knew well.

Starting the time trial, you caused the character to jump, spin, crush boxes, and generally beat the score Bumblebee had set. By the end of the level, you were the proud owner of a platinum relic.

“NO WAY!” Bumblebee goggled at the screen. “HOW DID YOU DO THAT?”

You stretched victoriously, “Years of practice. You know, if you play the second game and jump on the head of the polar bear in warp room two ten times-”

Bumblebee tried to look as if he was hanging onto your every word while internally, he was freaking out. How had he never noticed how cute you were before? It was so obvious. Maybe you had a crush on him too? Wait- A CRUSH! Colour rose to Bumblebee’s face plates.

‘Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. What if (s)he doesn’t feel the same? I need to know, right now. Why is (s)he still talking about the game? Can’t (s)he see what’s going on here?’

Unable to be patient and wait for an opportune moment wherein Bumblebee might learn if you had feelings for him, he dove at you, pressing his lips against yours, making you let out a muffled yelp.

Pulling away, Bumblebee stared at you, waiting for you to say something. Blood rushed to your face, turning it beet-red. You squeaked as blood started trickling from your nose.

“Primus!” Bumblebee screeched, jumping back.

“It’s okay,” You tried to explain, cupping your nose to catch the blood.

“HOW IS THIS OKAY? YOU’VE BLOWN A GASKET!”

Bumblebee practically drove off to get Ratchet, forgetting his comm-link in his panic. You meanwhile, were left to mop up your bloody nose and search for an explanation by the time Bumblebee came back; all in all, it wasn’t the smoothest first kiss.

The Jet Twins

Jetfire and Jetstorm were listening intently as you talked about the movies you were going to show them back at the base. You had a feeling they would like your old favourites as much as you did. The twins both loved that you took the time to teach them about Earth media and its origins. You were like a walking dictionary of what was cool and what wasn’t, yet if they liked a character or plot that you didn’t, you welcomed the new opinion.

The three of you came to a busy crossing where you had to wait for the traffic lights to change. As you chattered away, the twins gave a small nod to each other, indicating that it was time for something they had been planning since Megatron’s defeat.

Bending down to your height, they simultaneously kissed your cheeks. Afterwards, your head swivelled from Jetfire to Jetstorm, who were both grinning triumphantly.

“I- I- Uh-” You opened your mouth to say something more, but nothing came out. Instead, in a rush of nerves, you crumpled to the floor in a faint.

Jetstorm picked you up, watching you curiously, “Brother, I think she may have-”

“-overheated, yes it seems to being that way,” Jetfire finished his brother’s statement.

“Do you think her cooling fans are to be working?”

“I am thinking that human fans may be slower than ours, brother.”

“Let us be carrying her home then.

“Yes, lets.”

With that, the twins took turns to carry you home, each eager to hear what you thought of their kiss once your heating systems returned to optimal condition.

Blurr zipped back and forth in front of your house, waiting for you to come home. He had repeatedly run this one stretch of path for four hours; he’d been at it so long that the path was a mess of tire marks and scraped concrete. Far too anxious to stop for even one second, Blurr remained a prisoner of his thoughts, running to keep a hold of his sanity.

During the war, Blurr was only consumed with thoughts about the Decepticons. Now that those dark times were behind him, Blurr had time to think about other things… mainly you. He’d always known that he had liked you as a friend. You were one of the few people that could keep up with his fast mind and faster mouth after all. However, he had only realised that very day that he liked you.

Blurr hated the anxiety of wondering what you would think of him romantically. It made him erratic, like there was a swarm of scraplets living in his brain, threatening to tear him open from the inside out. There was really only one solution and that was to tell you how he felt; whether you accepted or rejected his affections, Blurr would at least have an answer and that would be enough.

Finally, Blurr saw you coming around the corner of your street. He rushed forward to you and started jabbering.

“(Y/N),IhaveromanticfeelingsforyouandIthinkyoumayreturnthemifyoujustgivemeachance.Itdoesn’tmatterthatwe’refromtwodifferentspeciesifwedon’tletitmatter,therehavebeenweirdercouplesinthepast.Whati’mtryingtosayiswillyougooutwithme?”

You stared blankly at Blurr. Usually, you were able to keep pace with his fast talking but there was no way to understand the fast-paced speech he had just given you.

“Excuse me, what?” You asked, dumbfounded.

Panicked by the prospect of repeating himself over such a delicate manner, Blurr pressed his lips quickly against yours, pulling away just as fast to stare at you.

Only a few seconds later, blood started dripping down your nose. Blurr was sure he had hurt you, and cursed himself for his behaviour, starting a rant about human fragility, though you only caught snippets.

“BLURR!” You shouted exasperatedly, surprised that the usually confident bot was so nervous now. “I’m fine, it’s just a little nosebleed. I- I like you too.”

Blurr, somewhat exhausted from the override of emotions flopped onto the floor. After cleaning your nose up, you laid down next to him and the two of you relished a few minutes of calm, each momentarily lost for words.

Sari

You and Sari walked through the park on the way to meet the Autobots for a game of improvised baseball. As you talked, you noticed how subdued Sari was. She hadn’t been herself all day; clearly something was on her mind.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You asked, drawing her attention back to you.

Sari sighed, then forced a smile, “It’s nothing (Y/N), don’t worry about it. I guess I’m just distracted.”

“C’mon Sari, something’s bugging you. You may as well talk about it. I won’t judge, whatever it is.”

“I know you won’t. It’s just… I was thinking about by dad.” That first sentence seemed to unlock a flood-gate as Sari began spilling her guts, “I just worry that one day Megatron might want him back. What if he decides to take him again? My dad is totally defenceless, and he could end up building something way worse than a space-bridge. I get that it’s not likely, but I still worry, y’know?”

“Hey,” You said, grabbing Sari’s hand reassuringly. “It’s all gonna be okay. No more bad stuff is gonna happen to you, but if it did, then you’ll have the Autobots to help out, and me as well, even if I can’t punch Megadork through a wall.”

Sari giggled, and smiled at you. You always knew what to say. She only wished she had a way to show you how much you meant to her. Blushing at the idea that just crossed her mind, Sari kissed you before she could lose her nerve.

As soon as her lips left yours, you let out a nervous croak, fainting soon after. Sari stood over you for a minute.

“Hmm.” She prodded you a few times in a small attempt at waking you up. “That didn’t go exactly how I planned.”

She called the Autobots to let them know that she would be late to the baseball game due to an ‘unexpected delay,’ and then she laid down on the grass next to you, awaiting the moment you would regain consciousness.

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[hotpinkhoshi]

the pact (1)

pairing: jinyoung x reader

genre: romance, smut, a lil angst

warnings: sexual content, cursing, alcohol, cliche fwb to lovers, fuckboy!jb

word count: 6.5k

summary: you desperately need to get over your decade-long crush on lim jaebeom, and your close friend jinyoung needs to get over his ex—so the two of you make an arrangement: just sex, no feelings. what could go wrong?

A/N: this is the first fic i’ve posted in yearrsssss so please be kind! also, if there are any weird formatting issues please let me know, i had a hell of a time posting this and mostly could only edit on my ipad so it’s been rough. hopefully it looks normal on both the app and desktop website but if it doesn’t, send me a message!

↳ index here

This was not how movie night was supposed to have gone.

You’d had a rough day at work, only looking forward to one thing all day—having all your friends over for your monthly movie night that inevitably always ended up as a mess. Your co-worker, Yugyeom, and his best friend Bambam were usually the culprits, turning every movie into a drinking game. You’d come to expect it after the third time you’d had to push Bam out before he puked on your carpet.

Your two bedroom apartment was barely big enough for you, your roommate, and your four closest guy friends, but you made it work every month and it was just what you’d needed tonight after the day you’d had.

It wasn’t usually difficult work managing a bookstore, but this week had been one of your lowest yet with sales, and you’d had to field multiple customer complaints as well as employee drama. It’d been enough to build tension in your shoulders and make you especially thirsty for Yugyeom’s special sodas—three parts alcohol, one part Sprite.

It didn’t help that you’d just seen your longtime crush, Jaebeom, post on his Instagram story that he was out with a mystery girl you didn’t recognize but had everything you didn’t. Stylish clothes, ridiculous curves, natural beauty, and most importantly, she had Jaebeom.

You’d been pining after Jaebeom for as long as you could remember—since you were in middle school with him and Jinyoung, at least. You’d had a decent amount of boyfriends in the ten years that had passed since then, yet you couldn’t shake your infatuation.

To make your infatuation even worse, three weeks ago, you’d been out with the guys and when you ran into Jaebeom, he was three shots deep and you ended up making out with him in the men’s bathroom. It wasn’t quite the romantic encounter you’d built up in your head, but still. He had a way of kissing you that made you feel like maybe he’d been wanting you just as badly this entire time. But then that was it—besides a couple of random text messages, you’d barely spoken to him since then.

So you’d gone a little overboard and ended up on the kitchen floor, your head resting on your roommate Sana’s lap while Transformers played in the living room and the boys argued over autobots and decepticons.

“I just—he texted me last week, I told you, right? He asked what I was doing, but it was two in the morning so I didn’t see it until I woke up...”

Sana stroked your hair and let out an exasperated sigh. “You want me to be honest with you, right?”

“Yes, please.”

“Jaebeom is a textbook fuckboy. He texted you because he was horny and his other playthings probably ignored him, so you were likely the first female’s name that he saw while scrolling through his contacts.”

It was a harsh truth, but deep down you knew she was right. Still, it wasn’t so easy to just brush it off and forget about it. You couldn’t help wondering what exactly was wrong with you, why you weren’t good enough for him. Sure, you were a little bookish, and you weren’t skilled in the art of seduction, but he had kissed you. That meant something, didn’t it?

“Besides, I don’t even get why you like him so much. He doesn’t even have a real job—“

You interrupted, “He’s a musician!”

“—I said a real job. He’s not a musician, he’s a DJ that sometimes posts half assed thirty second clips on Soundcloud with vaguely sexual titles.”

You pouted, knowing that she was right, and buried your face into her lap. “But he’s so pretty,” you whined.

Sana rubbed your back like the good best friend she was. “I know, Y/N. I know. But he’s a scumbag, and there are better guys out there. Like, millions of them. He’s not worth laying on your kitchen floor crying over.”

“Who’s she crying over?”

You lifted your head to see Jinyoung standing in the kitchen doorway with the empty bowl of popcorn. Sighing, you pulled yourself up from the floor and slumped against the counter. “Is Jaebeom dating someone?”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow and set down the popcorn bowl, then grabbed a fresh beer out of the fridge. “How should I know?”

“I don’t know, you’ve known him forever,” you replied with a shrug. “Don’t guys like, tell each other that stuff?”

“No,” Jinyoung answered with a snort. “We say, ‘hey, what’s up, man? How’s life?’ And then we give a noncommittal response, say we should grab a drink sometime to catch up, and then we never do.”

You pursed your lips together, crossing your arms. “Well, he posted one of those mirror selfies with some girl I’ve never seen before. The caption was ‘late night with bae’.”

You were saved a snarky response from Sana when there was a sudden raise in the volume in the living room, indicating the guys were getting out of hand again. Someone was yelling about spilled soju and Bambam was making noise simply to make noise, it seemed.

“If they stained the couch, I’m going to kill them,” she muttered before huffing off, prepared to put her foot down and wrangle the boys back to a reasonable sound level. Your neighbors had already called the landlord last week when Jackson stood out on the balcony belting out Boyz II Men at passing men and women.

While Jinyoung rinsed out the popcorn bowl, you scrutinized him. He was an acceptable man, right? He had a steady job at a publishing house, he was polite, kind, and made you laugh. He always surprised you with advanced copies of your most anticipated reads and he was probably the source of half the sales at your store. And yet, there were no butterflies when you looked at him. Not like there were when you saw Jaebeom.

But he was attractive, objectively. Jackson had told you the last time you’d bothered him for advice that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone new. And sex didn’t always have to mean anything between friends...

“Why are you staring?” Jinyoung asked when he finally noticed you were practically studying him.

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing.”

After grabbing a water bottle to sober up, you headed back into the living room to finish watching the movie. Clearly this train of thought was the result of too many special sodas, considering you’d never once in your life looked at Jinyoung as more than a close friend. It had always been about Jaebeom for you.

Besides, he’d dated Yeri for five years. Two of those were long distance while she studied in the states, and they’d broken up just a couple of months ago not long after she returned. Maybe that was why you’d never seen him as an option.

Two hours later, Bambam and Yugyeom had abandoned your movie night after being invited out to a new club by some pretty girls. It was predictable at this point, and you’d rather have them getting smashed out on the streets than in your apartment.

Sana had left you, Jackson, and Jinyoung with the task of cleaning up fallen popcorn and throwing away the many empty bottles scattered throughout the apartment. She’d cleaned up last month, it was your turn this time.

You felt almost sober by the time everything was cleaned up and Jackson left to meet up with the other boys, unable to resist a night out. By the time you collapsed onto the couch and switched the TV off, the only remains of your alcohol was the heaviness in your limbs.

Jinyoung dropped onto the couch next to you, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Tired?” he asked you, brows raised.

“A little.” You shrugged and pulled your legs onto the couch underneath of you, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Mostly just exhausted from the week. I think it’s just now hitting me.”

“Mm,” he agreed, letting his head fall back against the back of the couch. “Me too. Tonight’s the first time I got to leave the office before eight o’clock.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at him. “You work too hard.”

Jinyoung chuckled. “I like my job. I enjoy the work, most of the time. Keeps my mind occupied.”

That, you understood. You’d always been one to ignore your life’s problems by throwing yourself into work, and you knew it was one of the reasons you’d never had a successful relationship and found it hard to keep friends outside of the circle you’d always had.

Or, there could have been one other reason you hadn’t ever been able to stay with one person for too long—Jaebeom. As pathetic as it sounded, you’d always compared other guys to him, and they fell short every time.

You caught your mind wandering to him yet again and mentally slapped yourself. That was it, you had to find a way to forget about him. Once and for all.

“How did you get over Yeri?” You asked, somewhat abruptly. It caught Jinyoung off guard, you could tell. He’d been broken up with her for almost two months now, and hadn’t mentioned her in almost as long.

Jinyoung furrowed his eyebrows, chewing at his lip for a moment as if carefully choosing his words. “I don��t— I mean, maybe I’m not. Over her.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised. “You’re not? But it’s been two months, and I just kind of figured...”

He shrugged. “Some days are better than others. But every now and then, I feel like... like I’m still waiting for her to come back, and my whole life is on pause until she does.”

As far as you knew, Yeri had been the one to end things. Jinyoung was just too busy with work, he stayed late almost every night and she’d gotten tired of trying to schedule quality time with him weeks in advance. At least, that was as much as Jackson had told you.

You had no idea it would still be weighing on him, though. Jinyoung, of all people, was rarely shaken by anything. Always calm, calculated, and steady. No matter how long you’d known him, this was possibly the most he’d ever opened up to you.

“Sana thinks I need to get over my crush on Jaebeom,” you said as a slight change in subject, mostly because you had no experience in comforting Jinyoung and couldn’t begin to think of a proper response. “You know, for good.”

“You do,” Jinyoung responded with a light chuckle. “You’ve been obsessing over him since we were teenagers, and I have no idea why.”

You propped your sock covered feet on the coffee table, tipping your head back against the couch. “I don’t really know, either. I guess I just always thought... he’d settle down and want something serious, you know? He’d be done with the partying, the one night stands, the DJing, and he’d want...”

Trailing off, you chose not to finish the sentence because it was just too pathetic to say out loud. He’d want me.

Jinyoung was silent for a while before he leaned his shoulder into yours, a subtle gesture of comfort. “You deserve a lot better than him.”

When you were silent in response, Jinyoung nudged you again, more firmly this time. “Hey, you believe me, right? Don’t waste your worries on him, Y/N. There really are millions of better guys out there.”

Truthfully, you wanted to believe Jinyoung but there was still that nagging voice at the back of your head. Every relationship you’d ever had, and there weren’t many, had ended terribly. You’d been cheated on, lied to, and straight up ghosted. It was hard not to think maybe you were the problem.

You weren’t the most beautiful girl out there, you’d accepted that long ago. Not that you were hideous, but you knew there wasn’t much about your appearance that stood out to the average passerby. Looks weren’t everything, but they were still important.

“Would you have sex with me?” You blurted, realizing maybe you weren’t so sober after all. “I mean, hypothetically?”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened and he stifled a cough, looking at you like you had two heads. “Sorry?”

“I mean,” you cleared your throat and stood up in front of him. Long sweater, leggings, faded makeup and all. “You’re a guy. If you saw me at a bar, or just walking on the street. Would you want to have sex with me?”

The tips of Jinyoung’s ears instantly turned a deep shade of pink and it looked for a moment as if he was trying to keep his eyes anywhere except your body. “I—“ he shook his head, then finally made eye contact with you. “Yes.”

It was a new feeling, seeing Jinyoung flustered like this. It didn’t happen often, but you had to bite your lip to keep from grinning. It occurred to you, suddenly, that Jackson might have been onto something.

“Do you want to... now?” You asked, faking confidence. Sex between friends didn’t have to mean anything, and you both had people you needed to get over. It made sense, at the end of the day. And you trusted him, you realized—a lot.

“Stop being ridiculous,” Jinyoung replied, shaking his head once more. “Why are you asking this right now?”

You took a deep breath. “You want to get over Yeri. I want to get over Jaebeom. It makes sense, right? We’re adults, we’re friends, and it wouldn’t be anything more than physical. Whenever we need to let off some steam or get our minds off of them, we can help each other.”  

He looked away again, but you could tell with the way his jaw worked that he was considering it. Still, maybe he was the wrong person to ask. Jinyoung had never had casual sex, at least not that you knew of. He was a serious relationship kind of guy. You may have been better off asking one of the other guys.

“Okay.”

When he answered, your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

“You might have a point,” Jinyoung admitted. “Part of the reason I can’t get over Yeri is because she’s the only girl I’ve ever been with. Memories of her are everywhere. But maybe,” he sighed, running his tongue over his lips. “Maybe we could make some new ones.”

The corner of your lip quirked up and you felt the satisfaction of winning, which truly didn’t happen often with Jinyoung. He was one of the most stubborn people you’d ever known, always having a comeback or a way to turn it around in his own favor.

“So...” you started, trying to hide your fidgeting fingers in the sleeves of your sweater. You decided to just go for it, lowering yourself onto the couch with your knees on either side of Jinyoung’s hips.

It felt awkward. This was your childhood friend, and you were about to have sex with him with absolutely no feelings involved. But as you settled onto his lap and he slid his hands up your thighs, you began to relax.

“So,” Jinyoung repeated, gripping your waist under your sweater. His hands were big and warm, and you instantly felt safe in his grasp. “I’m going to kiss you now. Is that okay?”

When you nodded, Jinyoung leaned in slowly and carefully until his lips just barely brushed yours. He was gentle at first, until you tilted your head and kissed him back, your hands resting experimentally against his solid chest.

To be honest, it wasn’t bad. Jinyoung’s lips were soft and plump, and he kissed politely, waiting for permission to deepen it further.

So you gave it to him, sliding your arms around his neck and bringing your body flush against his, allowing his tongue entrance into your mouth. The two of you kissed until you were breathless, and you silently thanked the gods that Sana was a deep sleeper and there was little to no chance she’d walk in on you with your tongue down Jinyoung’s throat.

As polite as Jinyoung was, he didn’t hesitate to trace his hands up your bare sides, leaving goosebumps in his wake. It had been so long since you’d been touched like this, you’d forgotten how good it felt to be pressed up against a warm body, both of you desperately trying to get closer.

Even though he’d agreed to sleep with you, for some reason you were still surprised when you felt him harden underneath you. Part of you had been expecting him to end up repulsed or chicken out.

Something about the way he felt underneath of you had you rolling your hips into his, the obvious bulge in his pants pressing between your thighs just right. You let out a breathy moan into the kiss and Jinyoung pulled you down against him more firmly, one of his hands slipping down between your legs to rub you through your leggings.

A surprised moan slipped out and Jinyoung pulled away abruptly, his eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort. “Is that okay?”

You nodded quickly, grabbing his wrist and pressing his fingers back against your clit, sending warmth throughout your entire body. “Feels good,” you whispered, and you swore you felt Jinyoung’s cock twitch in his jeans.

“Bedroom?” Jinyoung asked, his fingers still drawing slow circles that were starting to make your brain fuzzy.

“Please,” you responded, and before you could make a move to stand up, Jinyoung was grabbing your thighs and wrapping them around his waist, lifting you from the couch like you weighed nothing. When had he gotten so strong?

He somehow got you to the bedroom smoothly, only stopping once to press you into the hallway and scatter kisses across your neck. Then he finally set you down after shutting your bedroom door behind you and you took the opportunity to lift his shirt up over his head.

You knew Jinyoung worked out regularly, but you had no idea he looked like that under his clothes. A firm chest, wide shoulders, and an actual six pack. If you’d known he was this ripped, maybe you would’ve tried to make this arrangement sooner.

“Seriously?” You asked, running your fingers down the lines of his abs. “Have you always looked like this?”

Jinyoung’s ears flushed again. “You know I like exercising. What did you expect?”

Shrugging, you settled your hands at his belt and ran your fingers along the metal of the buckle. “I don’t know. Now I’m a little scared to take your pants off, I mean, what have you got hiding there?”

He cringed, grabbing your hips and pulling you against him once more. “Oh, god. Please never say that again.”

Your giggle was cut off by Jinyoung’s lips pressing into yours again. This time the kiss was more heated, wet and punctuated by little nips to your lower lip. When he finally rid you of your sweater, you were so turned on you forgot to be insecure about him seeing your body for the first time.

Jinyoung laid you down on the bed, cradling his hand behind your head as it hit the pillows. His lips were on your collarbone in an instant and you slid your fingers through the soft strands of his hair, tugging in appreciation when he started sucking a hickey into your skin.

Tracing your sides with his fingertips once more, Jinyoung squeezed your hips and pulled back, sitting back on his heels to look down at you. His eyes raked your body from your face down to your waist, to where your legs were spread for him to lay between.

“Should we—“ Jinyoung swallowed, rubbing his thumbs into your hips. “Should we make some ground rules?”

It was fitting that he would be the one to suggest boundaries, but he had a point. Just because you trusted him and were both aware that it would be just sex, no feelings, didn’t mean it couldn’t get messy.

“Good idea,” you breathed, pushing hair out of your face. You’d never done this before, you didn’t even know where to start.

“Honesty,” Jinyoung started, his face looking quite serious despite the fact that he had a massive bulge in his jeans and he was naked from the waist up. “We tell each other what’s working, what’s not... what feels good, what doesn’t.”

Nodding, you agreed, “And, we have to tell each other if we start sleeping with someone else.”

“Or if we start to fall in love,” Jinyoung said, catching you off guard. Love? It hadn’t even crossed your mind.

He seemed to catch himself and cleared his throat, and you tried to ignore the adorable blush that was creeping onto the apples of his cheeks. “No feelings, right?”

You held your hand out. “Deal.”

Jinyoung smirked, then reached his hand out to clasp yours, shaking it just once. “Deal. Want me to eat you out now?”

You coughed in surprise. Was he always this forward with girls? If so, what was Yeri thinking walking away from him like that?

When you realized he wasn’t kidding, not even a little, as his hands played with the waistband of your leggings, you nodded once. “Okay. But I’m not—I wasn’t really expecting anyone to see me naked...”

Though you knew there was no good reason to be insecure, it was just Jinyoung, you squirmed your hips regardless when Jinyoung started to remove your leggings. “You want me to be honest?” He asked, tossing the ball of fabric behind him once you were left in just your bra and underwear.

“That’s the idea, right?”

“Right.” He scooted down the bed and laid between your legs, his shoulders nudging your knees apart to give him more room. “I don’t care. Most guys don’t. Besides, the underwear is cute.”

Blushing, you turned your face towards the pillow. You vaguely remembered mindlessly picking out a pair of snowmen underwear, simple cotton hipsters that were far from seductive. Though he said he didn’t care, you couldn’t help the knot of embarrassment in your stomach.

“Shut up.” You chewed your lip, then lifted your head to look down at him. “Guys really don’t care? About... what it looks like down there?”

Jinyoung held back another chuckle. “No. You care way more than we do, apparently. At the end of the day, if it’s the right guy, we just want to be inside of you. And if it’s really the right guy, we just want to make you feel good. Nothing else matters.”

It relieved some of your anxiety, but you still couldn’t look at his face as he pulled your underwear down your legs and tossed them to the floor. You trusted him, more than most guys you’d ever met, but he was about to get closer to you than even some of the men you’d slept with.

“Relax,” Jinyoung whispered and you conceded, laying your head back against the pillows and closing your eyes. “Tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

You nodded, tapping your hands awkwardly against the covers until you felt his fingers intertwine yours, holding them against the bed next to your hips.

He started slow. Kissing your thighs, building it up, getting closer and closer to your heat before finally, he licked one single strip from your entrance up to your clit. You whimpered involuntarily, not realizing how sensitive you’d be.

How long had it been, anyway? At least six months since the last time you’d had sex, and much longer since you’d had a man’s face between your thighs.

Then he locked his lips around your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking, until you were squeezing his hands so hard you were sure you left nail marks in his skin. You had to remind yourself Sana was just a couple of rooms over, and though she was a deep sleeper she’d most definitely wake up to you moaning at the top of your lungs.

“Faster,” you told him, still unable to open your eyes but he listened immediately, quickening the pace of his tongue against your clit. You whined breathlessly, hips lifting in an attempt to just feel more.

Jinyoung let go of one of your hands only to slide it down to meet just underneath his chin, taking the wetness that had gathered on two of his fingers before slowly inching them inside of you.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, moving your now free hand to clamp onto the back of Jinyoung’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. “Deep. Deeper, with your fingers,” you told him, words rushing together because you felt like you were going a little bit insane.

So he obeyed, pushing his fingers through your walls until he couldn’t go any further. He let you adjust, then began a slow, delicious pace inside of you. You could feel sweat pooling in your collarbone just from the heat Jinyoung was making you feel.

“Pull my hair,” Jinyoung whispered, and you didn’t have time to question it before you were doing as he said. He moaned into your clit and you arched your back, your mouth gaping open just as you remembered you needed to stay quiet.

He knew what he was doing, you could tell that much. Not only that, he enjoyed it. You could tell just from the quiet groans he’d let out when you clenched your walls around his fingers, like he was getting as much pleasure from this as you were.

“J-Jinyoung,” you stuttered, feeling the pressure start to build in your belly, your toes beginning to curl. He stared up at you, mouth still buried into your pussy. “I’m... I’m close, but I—“ you groaned. “I want you. Please.”

Within a second, Jinyoung was slipping his fingers from your folds, popping them into his mouth to get a taste and using his other hand to undo his belt. He worked fast, pushing his jeans down his thighs and kicking them off the bed with his underwear.

“Nightstand,” you breathed, taking your opportunity to check him out, head to toe. His dick was pretty. And that was truly the first time you’d ever thought that about anyone. You shifted your hips on the bed, desperate to have him fill you up.

It was new to feel this needy, and for Jinyoung of all people. The guy you’d known since you were both in your awkward phase, scrawny limbs and terrible clothing. He’d seen you throw up on your own shoes, and you’d seen him dance to Backstreet Boys at your high school talent show.

And yet, here you were, naked and wet underneath of him as if none of that mattered.

Jinyoung shoved his hand into your nightstand drawer until he found the box of condoms, grabbing one and tossing the nearly full box to the floor in his haste to get inside of you. You watched as he rolled it on, and it finally hit you that this was happening. It was almost too late for either of you to change your minds.  

“This is your last chance,” you said, finally looking up from his cock to his eyes. “If you want to stop, if you think it’s a bad idea—“

Jinyoung cut you off with his lips once more, his hand grabbing onto your thigh to hook it around his waist. “I’m not changing my mind. Are you?” He whispered against your lips and you felt him hard against your stomach.

“No,” you answered. “I want it.”

He pulled away and locked eyes with you, a smirk on his lips. “Oh yeah?” His tongue ran over his lower lip and he reached down, guiding his cock up your folds until the head nudged your clit. “I can tell.”

Even though he was clearly just as desperate, you blushed and pinched his arm. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

Jinyoung’s eyes lit up and he chuckled, lowering his hips until you felt him at your entrance. “I had no idea you had such a dirty mouth on you.” He paused for a moment, making sure you were ready, then pushed inside of your heat.

While you’d just had his fingers inside of you, you would’ve never been able to tell with the way you squeezed around him. It was uncomfortable at first, but the feeling ebbed away quickly the more of him you took inside.

“Oh,” you breathed, and Jinyoung echoed your reaction with a groan.

“Tight,” he whispered, dropping his head down to your shoulder.

As soon as he’d filled you to the hilt, you couldn’t help the whimper that slipped from your lips. It was the best kind of stretch, putting every one of your nerves on edge. He stayed like that for a long moment, letting your walls adjust to his length.

When you couldn’t take it anymore, you shifted, tightening your leg around his waist. “Move. Please.”

Jinyoung’s movements were controlled and slow, but it was as if he knew all of the sensitive places in your body already. You gasped, your hands sliding up his back until they gripped tightly to his shoulder blades.

The way he fit inside of you felt incredible, and you weren’t sure it had ever felt quite like this, even with ex-boyfriends. Everywhere your body met with his felt like it was on fire, and as Jinyoung quickened his pace, you found it harder and harder to stay quiet.

His name fell from your lips over and over, and you could tell Jinyoung was holding back—when he lifted his head from your shoulder, his brows were knitted together in concentration. You slid your nails down his back, relishing in the way he shivered in response.

“God, you’re driving me insane,” he said, his voice low and strained. “Spread your legs more. Yeah, just like that.”

“Mm, faster,” you told him, clenching around him once he was all the way inside. “You don’t have to be gentle with me.”

“Fuck—“ Jinyoung groaned, hands squeezing the sheets where he held himself above you.

If someone had told you twelve hours ago that Jinyoung would have you covering your own mouth to muffle your moans while he drilled into you, you probably would have thought they were crazy. But here you were.

Jinyoung reached down, slipping his hand under your back to unhook your bra, pulling it off in one smooth movement. He cursed under his breath once you were exposed to him completely, breasts bouncing each time he filled you up.

“God,” he whispered, hand trailing down your chest until the tip of his index finger grazed over your nipple, a featherlight touch. You shivered, arching your back towards his hand. “Tell me what you like.”

Normally, it took you months to let your boyfriends know what you liked in bed and how you liked to be touched, but honesty was your number one rule in this agreement. There was no point in holding back.

“I like it deep, just like this,” you told him. Jinyoung seemed to just know already, or maybe that was how he liked it too. He was always the intense type, it made sense if it had transferred over to the bedroom. “I like it when you tell me how it feels, what you want to do.”

Your words were finished off by a moan that you were sure Sana could have heard if she weren’t asleep, and just the thrill of being caught was enough to send a wave of heat through your body.

When Jinyoung locked eyes with you, there was a hint of something new, like you’d unlocked a part of him that you’d never seen before. He smirked.

“Next time,” Jinyoung started, thrusting deep inside of you, “you won’t have to keep quiet. I’ll take you to my place, and when I’m inside of you, you can be as loud as you want.” His hand slid down your torso, over the sensitive skin of your stomach until it rested on your hip.

Next time. Just the idea of being with him again, though you probably wouldn’t admit it, excited you. It filled your mind with a flash of scenarios and possibilities, all the different ways he could make you feel good.

“Jinyoung, I—“ you moaned, biting hard onto your lip to silence yourself. Jinyoung brought his other hand to your mouth, thumbing your lip until you were forced to stop biting it.

“Would you like that?” he asked, the pace of his thrusts quickening. “Maybe I can bend you over the back of the couch, windows open for everyone to hear you crying out. Is that what you want?”

Your eyes squeezed shut, gasping as the mental image went straight between your legs where he filled you up so perfectly.

“Answer me.” His voice was deep but stern at your ear, and you knew his question was not rhetorical.

“Yes,” you replied, digging your nails into his back. “God, yes. Make me scream your name, Jinyoung.” And he almost did, as he attached his lips to your neck and bit down, teeth scraping against your tender skin just as he slammed inside of you.

You were close again, and you knew it wouldn’t take much more to send you tumbling over the edge. His thrusts were so deep and powerful that you knew you’d be aching tomorrow, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Can’t get enough,” he said, voice husky and low against your neck where you could tell he was working on marking you. He could’ve left the biggest, reddest hickey for all to see and you couldn’t have cared less right now. It didn’t even cross your mind that this was meant to be just between the two of you.

You whimpered when his hand drifted from your hip to the place where your bodies met. He placed his thumb right against your clit and pressed quick circles into your most sensitive spot, and you had to restrain yourself from moaning out.

Jinyoung must have sensed this, because he pulled away from your neck and stared down at you, slipping his opposite thumb into the wetness of your mouth. “Suck.”

If you weren’t close before, you were now. You wrapped your lips around his thumb and did as you were told, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking on Jinyoung’s digit as it rested on your tongue.

As his gaze locked on yours, you found yourself unable to look away. He commanded every bit of your attention, his eyes filled with desire and pleasure that you were responsible for. Your heart pounded in your chest, overwhelmed with need.

Although Jinyoung didn’t say a word, you could read it in his eyes—cum for me. He drew tight circles against your clit, his fast pace relentless inside of you. His stamina was something else, you thought to yourself. He didn’t even look mildly tired out.

You grabbed at Jinyoung’s wrist with your hands, needing something to grip onto but you also desperately needed to keep your mouth occupied so that you didn’t wake your roommate and the neighbors with your cries.

Then something snapped. The tension got to be too much and your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami, causing your back to arch and your thighs to shake, caging Jinyoung’s waist in and slowing his movements.

He still fucked you through your high and kept his fingers moving until he was sure you had come down. Once he was, he brought a hand up to push your hair away from your face, pressing his lips into your forehead.

“Good girl,” he whispered and you sighed, your limbs finally relaxing in exhaustion. You would’ve never guessed that Jinyoung would be the one to give you what was possibly the best orgasm you’d had in years. Polite, calm, and serious Jinyoung. The same Jinyoung that could barely look you in the eye when you wore a bathing suit in front of him.

His climax wasn’t far away, you knew that much. And you were thankful too, because you were already starting to feel sore and overstimulated, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

You wrapped your arms around him, your fingertips gripping deep into his skin, undoubtedly leaving scratch marks down his back. It was only fair, you figured. You slipped one hand into his hair and tugged, harder than before.

“Shit,” Jinyoung moaned, his thrusts becoming less controlled and more shallow. You pulled his hair again, your nails scraping against his scalp, and that was it for him.

He pushed inside one last time, his cock so deep inside of you that you couldn’t help clenching your walls around him as he came. He was mostly silent save for one throaty groan into your neck, a sound you were sure you wouldn’t soon forget.

You felt him relax a long moment later and he slowly pulled back away from you, stroking the side of your face with his fingertips. “That was...”

All you could do was nod, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Yeah...” Your heart was still racing from your orgasm, but the haze of your desire was starting to fall away, reminding you of reality.

You’d just had sex with Jinyoung. One of your best friends. What would happen now? Would it be awkward from now on, now that you’d seen each other naked? You’d literally had him inside of you. Something told you it’d be difficult to come back from that.

Jinyoung finally pulled out of you a moment later to remove the condom and put it in the trash, and you were eternally grateful that you had the master bedroom with the attached bathroom. For one, you could watch his backside as he went to get a washcloth, and you also didn’t have to leave your bedroom until both of you were fully cleaned up.

You shifted on the bed while you waited for Jinyoung to return, trying to ease your worries. The two of you had been friends so long, you figured it would take more than one hook-up to ruin it all.

Once Jinyoung came back with a wet cloth and climbed onto the bed, you told yourself you’d worry about it tomorrow.

You both got cleaned up and while Jinyoung got dressed, you grabbed your robe and wrapped it around yourself so that you could walk him to the door. Both of your footsteps were as silent as possible, careful not to wake your roommate.

“Jinyoung,” you said, as he slipped his shoes back on.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” you whispered, chewing nervously at your lip. You didn’t quite know what you were thanking him for, but you felt the need to say it anyway. Some part of you felt so grateful to him that you couldn’t let him leave without making him aware.

Jinyoung’s lips quirked just a bit. “You too,” he tucked your disheveled hair behind your ear. “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

You nodded. “Drive safe.”

The moment Jinyoung was out of the apartment, your body leaned limply against the door as you stared up at the ceiling. No, this was not how movie night was supposed to have gone.

[seaquestions]

faith in gold

hey so last night at like 1am i ended up writing a 1.2k fanfic about snare, and what if he didnt die in lsotw. its got some snare/impactor vibes, yknow its got some yearning, some longing. enjoy! (warning for eye trauma and thoughts of dying.)

Excerpt: Perhaps Impactor felt like he owed Snare something. Perhaps he felt kinship, having both lived through Overlord’s rule. Snare couldn’t tell, halfway dead as he was.

Snare couldn’t dodge Stalker’s shot, not that fast. It hurt bad, shattering his optic and dislodging the right clasp of his face mask. He screamed as it happened, but he could barely speak now, his back on the rough floor. Sparks flew from exposed wires. His remaining eye could barely focus upward, his intakes were stuttery. Maybe he was lucky that Stalker’s shot missed his brain module, maybe not, depending on how you look at it. The pain was overwhelming, but not as much as the feeling of dread and despair that quickly ran up his spine. Right before death by impalement, Stalker sent out a comm to Overlord. And if Overlord was coming, he was going to be dead later even if he held onto life now.

How much faith did he place on the Wreckers to get the job done? He didn’t know. He couldn’t compute the odds, not now that all his power was routed towards not dying. But even if they weren’t, what would the point be?

A yellow and purple blur crouched next to him. Impactor. Snare gave as much information as he could. After what felt like an eternity of being helpless under Overlord’s command, he could at least spend his dying breaths doing something useful. It was a less than ideal death—he would’ve preferred to have escaped Garrus-9 at least—but it was realistic. And Snare considered himself a realist, mostly, with brief moments of idealism that he’d usually consider lapses in judgment.

Although freeing Impactor didn’t turn out to be one, at least not yet. If the Wreckers succeeded… Well, it was a roll of the dice. But there was a chance he did something good.

Then Impactor offered to keep him alive. Move him somewhere safe. Snare didn’t have the slightest clue on where could be safe in this hellhole of a prison. Even if he survived, what life would await him? Snare was tired. Very tired.

Impactor’s scarred face looked tired too. He wasn’t scowling, not like he usually did, but the lines on his face felt deeper than ever. He repeated the offer, gentler this time. He was already gentle before, but it was almost a whisper now. It felt like an oath. How uncharacteristic of him. Perhaps Impactor felt like he owed Snare something. Perhaps he felt kinship, having both lived through Overlord’s rule. Snare couldn’t tell, halfway dead as he was. He could feel his plating start to cool, just a bit, and couldn’t stop himself from weakly inching ever so slightly towards the other mech. He felt the rumble of Impactor’s engine, the gold of the wrecker’s optics on him, and closed his remaining eye. 

Snare was tired of thinking. Let someone else decide for him.

——

He woke up to brightness. 

If it weren’t for the sounds of medical machinery, he would’ve asked aloud if he was in the Afterspark. Snare was never a religious mech, but it felt like the thing to do. Regardless, that was definitely not the case.

“Snare, correct?” someone asked.

The jet looked to his left, and sitting on a stool next to him was the Wreckers’ sniper-slash-scientist, Perceptor.

“Y-yeah,” he replied. His voice was weak still.

Perceptor wrote down something on a datapad, then leant over him to grab a box he couldn’t see. It was at that point that Snare realised he was still missing his right eye.

“You aren’t quite healed yet,” the sniper said, as if reading his mind, “but the procedure is almost done. Anyway. What colour optic would you like?” he asked, presenting Snare with the box.

Spare optics, in various colours. But not green.

“Green is rare. You understand, yes?” said Perceptor.

Snare nodded. Green wasn’t his original eye colour anyway. He’d gotten quite attached to it though. The Skomiloch Territories were a distant memory now, but he kept the optical filter that came with the mission and so did the rest of his team. It made them feel like they belonged together.

(And then they all died one after the other. Stalker had been the last to go, right after blasting Snare’s eye off and leaving him as the last mech standing. Funny, that.)

There were a lot of blues in the box and that was a big no immediately. He could go with red, which was his original colour, but…

His hand moved before he could finish the thought.

Perceptor took it from him and nodded. “Gold it is. Would you like to be offline for this?”

Snare thought for a second. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then I’d like to stay awake.”

While Perceptor went about his task, Snare’s mind was racing. The Autobots won, clearly. He wouldn’t be here if Overlord did. What did that mean for him? Were they going to keep him prisoner? They couldn’t just let him go, could they? He was still a Decepticon, after all. Well, Snare didn’t feel any particular love for his faction at the moment and didn’t really want to go back actually, but his wants were never especially relevant, so. Best to ignore them if he were to think rationally here. Would he join the Autobots? He’d rather not. Disillusioned with the cons he may be, but Snare still disliked the bots. Maybe he could go neutral and run away. But that would make it easy for the DJD to pick him off, wouldn't it? He wouldn’t even be a challenge for them; he’d probably be someone they off while on their way to a real target. And Snare wasn’t in the mood to die at the moment. Not when someone had clearly gone through the trouble of keeping him alive…

“It's done,” Perceptor said, leaning back. Snare felt a mirror being handed to him, “Satisfactory?”

Holding the mirror up to his face, Snare could see that his mask was the cleanest it had been in forever. But more importantly, his eyes were… Well, it would take some getting used to. Gold was an optic colour that stood out, and so was green. He didn’t really know how he felt. He hoped he wouldn’t lose his other eye anytime soon, at least.

“I believe that’s one of Impactor’s spares, actually,” Perceptor idly commented as he cleaned up the medical supplies.

Impactor. “Where is he?” Snare asked.

Perceptor shrugged.

The jet put the mirror down. “What’s that mean?”

“It means I don’t know where he is. He left as soon as he was pardoned. No trace of him here,” Perceptor explained.

Figures. He’d have his life saved and he couldn’t even talk to the guy who did it. Not that Impactor would appreciate a thank you. And it wasn’t as if Snare had asked him to do it either. But he still would’ve liked to know why the mech saved him. Impactor wasn’t exactly known for his kindness and compassion towards Decepticons—or anyone really.

Snare poked at the metal surrounding his new eye. A bit sensitive but mostly healed. He looked at his reflection in the mirror he set down. He couldn’t stop looking at the gold.

“This was his,” Snare said quietly.

Perceptor paused and glanced at his patient. “It was once meant for him, yes,” he said, and then went back to cleaning up.

Snare closed his eyes and felt an ache deep in his spark. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him now. But he knew, he was going to make sure that he’d meet Impactor again. Sooner or later. He whispered it, just to himself. 

It felt like an oath.

[grayseekerswritinglife]

Tricks & Treats 5/5

Chapter Five: The Gold-Sweats

“Fly?” Hook broke stride and gave Starscream an incredulous look. “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situation. Skywarp is lucky he can walk, let alone fly.”

“I realize that,” Starscream said irritably, falling in step beside the Decepticons’ chief medic as he resumed walking down a corridor of the Victory’s crew deck. “I’m just looking for an ETA. That’s all.”

After their escape, they had sneaked Skywarp back onto the Victory without drawing undue attention to themselves. Hook had agreed to let Skywarp recover in his quarters rather than the medbay, which had been helpful, though it was only a matter of time before Megatron started asking questions. Eventually, the old bucket-head was going to decide that he simply had to have an airstrike. When that happened, it would be Starscream’s neck on the line if all Seekers weren’t ready to scramble.

“Look,” Hook said, in the clipped tones of a medic nearing the limits of his patience. “The best I can offer is that Skywarp will be ready to fly once ninety percent of the gold has left his system. But that could take up to two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Starscream let out a string of curses, which Hook duly ignored. They were nearing the door of the quarters which Skywarp and Thundercracker shared. Hook politely raised his fist to knock, but Starscream shoved past him and barged in. He regretted doing so almost immediately.

Skywarp was sitting in a shallow tray positioned on the floor between Skywarp’s own berth and the one he typically shared with Thundercracker. It was easy to see why. He was literally dripping gold. Liquid metal was leaking from his joints, his vents, his transformation seams, and—it seemed—from every other orifice. It was even flowing, like tears, from the corners of his optics. Gold had pooled at the bottom of the tray, leaving him sitting in a puddle of what was, effectively, his own sweat.

“Ugh.” Starscream crinkled his nasal assembly. “How revolting!”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Thundercracker said with a shake of his head. He was kneeling behind Skywarp, using a rag to clean his gold-streaked wings. This appeared to be an impossible task. Every time he cleared some gold away, more came pouring out to replace it.

“That’s very good,” Hook said in approval. “If you keep his transformation seams as clear as possible, the gold will escape from his system much more easily.”

“But I don’t want it to,” Skywarp complained.

“Too bad,” Starscream snapped. “I expect you back in the air within the week.” Hook shot him a glare, which he duly ignored.

“How are you feeling?” Hook asked, crouching to run a medical scanner over Skywarp’s frame.

Skywarp shrugged. “Okay, I guess. What did you put in the gold, though? It tastes terrible now.”

“Nothing,” Hook replied, his gaze never leaving the scanner. “What you’re experiencing is a common side-effect of gold-poisoning. You might even say it’s your body’s way of protecting you from your own questionable habits.”

“Gold tastes bad to you now?” Starscream asked from the doorway. He didn’t want to get any closer to that puddle of sweat than he absolutely had to.

Skywarp nodded unhappily. “It looks sooo tasty, but when I try to drink it—”

“Drink it? It’s your sweat.”

“So? It’s better than letting it go to waste.”

“Trust me, Warp; it is disgusting,” Thundercracker put in.

“It probably won’t taste bad forever,” Hook assured him. “Once your system has returned to a state of balance, your taste-receptors will probably do the same.”

“But in the meantime,” Starscream said, “I guess I can safely leave this by your bedside, without having to worry about you putting on any additional weight.” He drew a small bag of golden ore—the very bag he’d originally confiscated from Skywarp—from his subspace, and tossed it on Skywarp’s bunk.

“Now you give it back,” Skywarp said with a pout, though he eyed the bag with naked avarice, as if he was thinking of trying it anyway.

“Yeah, I’ll be taking care of that,” Thundercracker said, whisking the bag into his subspace. “I’ll make sure he gets some when he’s ready. And that he doesn’t overindulge,” he added, giving Skywarp a stern look.

Skywarp folded his arms over his gold-slick chest, glaring. Mostly at Starscream. “What are you even doing here?”

“Can’t a Trineleader check up on his Trinemates?”

“Watch out,” Thundercracker warned. “We might start thinking you care.”

“Don’t be absurd. I was merely ensuring that Megatron does not hear of our little... adventure,” Starscream retorted. “Which means making sure the two of you remain alive and intact.”

“Whatever you say, Screamer.”

“I just have one question,” Starscream said, fixing his gaze on Skywarp. “I thought the Autobots searched your subspace.”

“They did.”

"How did you keep them from finding your pranking supplies?”

Starscream only asked because Skywarp’s pranks had saved their afts. After they’d gotten past Sludge, Skywarp had used one of his smoke-bombs to distract the two other Dinobots guarding the detention area. After that, most of the Autobots had been in such a frenzy to deactivate the sprinkler system that they hadn’t even noticed the escaping prisoners. Those who had noticed had swiftly fallen prey to Starscream’s null-ray. Or to the reverberations of Thundercracker’s sonic booms, which were deafening at close range. Or—in the notable case of Powerglide—to one of Skywarp’s fake snakes. Which had proved highly effective as a tripping hazard.

“Oh,” Skywarp said with a smile. “They did find them.”

“But they let you keep it all?”

“Noooot exactly.” Skywarp leaned back against Thundercracker, coating his chest in golden slime. Thundercracker made a face, but draped his arms around Skywarp anyway. Skywarp grinned. “The Autobots were all so distracted by the gold that I was able to slide a few things back into my subspace.”

“And naturally you chose the exploding pumpkins,” Thundercracker said. “Priorities and all.”

“Hey, ‘tis the season.” Skywarp smirked. “But you know the part we’re not talkin’ about? The electro-magnetized part.”

“The what?” Hook asked.

“Oh, nothin'. Just the way Starscream busted into the detention holding area and kicked the door open like a ninja and grabbed his null-ray straight from the jaws of one of those Dinobots—”

“Yes, well,” Starscream interrupted. “We simply do what we must, don’t we?”

“Yeaaaaah.” Skywarp playfully flicked gold in his direction. “It’s got nothin’ to do with that picture you keep in your lab.”

“Picture?” Hook looked nonplussed.

“Schematic,” Starscream corrected. “Of the Ark. It’s how I knew where the Autobots were keeping the null-ray. Obviously.” He turned for the door, but Skywarp called after him.

“Know what the best part of all this is?”

“I shudder to ask.”

“The two of you guys comin’ to my rescue,” Skywarp said, glancing warmly between Starscream and Thundercracker. “Nice to see you gettin’ along for once.”

Starscream scowled at them both, and hastily made his exit. He went straight to his lab. If anything good could be said to have come of this, he was at least getting some uninterrupted lab-time. Finally.

“Now,” he said, sinking down at his workstation. “Where was I?” He called up the data-set he’d been analyzing when Thundercracker had invaded, and stared at it for a while. Equations swirled through his mind like wisps of smoke, but his gaze kept drifting to the holocube. Finally, he picked it up and gazed at the two figures pictured within. A silver-and-red Seeker perched on the shoulder of a mech so huge that his wings blocked the stars. Starscream pressed his lips together, sighed, and opened a comm channel. A very old one. So ancient that no one, even Soundwave, would have been able to break its encryption.

“You idiot,” he began.

A soft laugh greeted his remark. “Are you all safely away?”

“Yes, but you took a stupid risk.”

“Perhaps. Or, perhaps, I prevented a retaliatory attack by the Decepticons. I imagine that Megatron would have wanted the three of you back, eventually.”

“If only to prevent us from revealing secrets,” Starscream reluctantly agreed.

“So perhaps it could be said that I took care of a dicey situation in a way that caused the least amount of harm.”

“Which doesn’t make you any less of an idiot.”

“Possibly not.” A pause. “How’s Skywarp doing?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Yes.”

“Whatever.” Starscream shrugged. Then, remembering Skyfire couldn’t see him, added, “He’ll live.”

“Good. And I trust he’s learned his lesson about stealing gold?”

Starscream snorted.

“Thought as much.” Skyfire chuckled. “Thanks for not hurting anyone.”

“Apart from Powerglide,” Starscream pointed out.

“I think it was only his pride.”

“We would have, if we’d needed to. Hurt people.”

“I understand. But you didn’t.”

Silence fell between them. Not an uncomfortable silence; just companionable.

“So it’s Halloween tonight,” Starscream finally said. “I don’t suppose you’re free?”

“Why? Are you going to scare me?”

“I could.” Starscream thought for a moment, then rattled off a set of coordinates.

A beat of hesitation. “Isn’t that where you got captured?”

“You’ll like it,” Starscream promised. It wasn’t as if the Aerialbots would be there standing guard, and besides, the pocket valley was private and rather beautiful. Plus, tonight was a full moon. He wanted to see Skyfire by the side of that spring, wet and gleaming in the moonlight. “Bring all your tricks,” he said, “and I’ll bring treats.”

~~~~~~~

This was written for @darkstarofchaos​ for the @transform-or-treat​ Halloween gift exchange. There are five chapters of it in all, and I will be posting a chapter a day until Halloween! Many, many thanks to @justawayninja or being my awesome beta. Your suggestions helped me get the story to the next level.

[fang-wolfsbane]

Transformers Animated: Morning After: Chapter 02: Recruitment, Sir?

“Congratulations young cadet. You’ve made it as an official medic for the Autobot alliance. Only a few have ever made it to your position, so be proud of yourself and work hard.”

Those had been the words from Highdrive’s commanding officer the moment he stepped out of the Autobot Academy for Medics – A.A.M. for short. The moment he graduated, Highdrive had been certain that he was going to land a position within the Elite Guard, training amongst the best of the best to serve his home planet, Cybertron.

As third in his class, he had nothing but a promising future ahead of him, until an incident within the academy dorms had cost him a far grater demotion than he had thought necessary. He had been clearing out his dorm room for the next occupant when some of his fellow students had suggested that they play one last prank on their teacher as a farewell gift. Highdrive had been reluctant at first, but not wanting to be the odd one out, he’d gone with them. The idea had been to liquify the classroom hallway from one end to the other. A harmless prank, right? He had never been so wrong.

Not only had they used energon – the very life fuel they all needed to survive – but the teacher had indeed slipped on the wet floor, tumbled out of a carelessly left open window, broke not only their entire right leg apart, but had hit their helm hard enough to cause a crack within their CPU. A security guard had heard the commotion, and before Highdrive could even think of turning to ask his so-called fellow classmates what they would do about the situation, he was the only one left behind in the entire building.

It took some heavy convincing from one of his other teachers to get him a lighter punishment than he knew he deserved, but at this point he supposed it was the best he could hope to. When he was told he was to be the assistant medic on a space bridge repair ship, he tried to convince himself that it was a learning experience. He would have preferred the stockade.

With a personal escort, probably to ensure that he didn’t try and make a break for it, Highdrive had walked into the hanger where the repair ship was waiting. It was big, there was no denying that, and old… very old. How the bots in control of the ship expected it to be able to fly was a question all on its own.

Transforming alongside his escort, Highdrive was handed off to the commanding medic he’d be serving under. An old rust bucket whose white and red paint job certainly looked like it had seen far better stellar cycles. Highdrive visibly flinched to himself, not wanting to think of what his mother would have said if she’d heard him think so ill of a bot he was supposed to learn from. It was only because of his status as a medical student that he’d been kept from getting a permanent smack on his name.

Walking up to the bot, Highdrive tried to hide a visible flinch as he held his servo out towards the older mech. In reality, their colours weren’t that different. Highdrive himself sported orange in place of the other mech’s red. In all the stellarcycles he’d spent at the academy, he’s noticed a similar scheme to all of them. He supposed that when it came to saving lives, something bright coming to the rescue was a sign of reassurance to the one awaiting assistance.

Right, that was what he had been supposed to do when he joined the academy. Save lives, not ruin them…

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you sir. My name is-”

“This the kid?” the mech before him grunted, ignoring the outstretched servo, focusing his attention solely on the bot beside him. Highdrive blinked, reigning in the urge to curl his servo into a fist as he lowered his arm back to his side. There was no doubt that the mech had heard all about Highdrive’s reason for joining – if you could call it that.

His escort nodded, and with a muttered ‘good luck’ in the old bot’s direction, turned on his ped and casually strode off, only seeming to glad that Highdrive wasn’t his problem to deal with anymore. Unlike his fist, his distain at the thought couldn’t be hidden from displaying itself on his faceplate.

“Better learn to grind your dentals here kid, or you aren’t going to last long,” were the mech’s first words to him as he turned and went back over to what Highdrive assumed to be an exterior control panel. Assumed being the key word. He could name each and every single component of a bot – even a Decepticon’s because of the few specimens from the war they’d been allowed to study – and give a list of their functions and possible malfunctions, but to take care of a ship? Surely the medic didn’t expect him to learn to do that too, did he?

Shaking his thoughts free from his CPU, Highdrive found himself jogging after the mech. “Y-Yes sir!”

“Sir, huh?” the other bot mused, stopping momentarily as a pair of pinchers revealed themselves from his forearm. It took all Highdrive’s self-control not to ask how long the other had his medical upgrade. Highdrive had been scheduled to receive his within the next week, or he would have, if the whole ordeal with his teacher hadn’t happened. Goodbye upgrade. “Haven’t heard that in a long time.”

“Is… is it a problem, sir?” Highdrive asked, shifting on his peds a little unsurely. “I could-”

“No. No… it’s fine. It shows you at least have some form of respect left in you,” the mech said, getting to work on the panel. Highdrive knew he failed at keeping the smile off his lips, taking the other’s words as a compliment, whether they were meant to come across that way or not.

“My name is Highdrive, sir. I’ll be looking forward to learning from you.”

“Ratchet,” the old bot introduced himself, frowning as he concentrated on his current task.

“That’s a pretty cool name,” Highdrive said, his smile growing until Ratchet’s blue optics focused on him, a clear, silent warning within them. He found himself taking a step back, yelping when he lost his footing and fell back onto his aft over an open toolbox carelessly left on the floor. As careless as freshly spilled energon in a dark hallway.

“Hey, watch it!” Ratchet scolded. Highdrive flinched, assuming the glare to be fixated on him until the floor began trembling as another bot, nearly three or four times his own size came bouncing over like a spry scraplet.

“Sorry Ratchet,” the bot said, one of his peds narrowly avoiding stepping on Highdrive’s digits. Yanking them away just in time almost had his spark stop. Breathing through his vents, Highdrive tilted his helm back far enough to study the army-green mech. From his build, he had probably enlisted in the military, though his supposed clumsiness left much to thought.

“Saying sorry won’t fix this ship if you break another welding wrench – again,” Ratchet hissed through gritted dentals. The bigger bot lowered his helm in shame before his own traditional Autobot blue optics whirred as they zoomed in on Highdrive’s faceplate.

“Oh, hey there! You must be the new bot,” the bulky bot said, now fully focused on, well, ‘the new bot’ as he put it. “Here, let me help you up,” and before Highdrive could even think to protest, he was yanked onto his peds by a lightly throbbing arm. He made a mental note to check his arm over for any possible dents later. “Sorry if I scared ya. I’m Bulkhead.”

“H-Highdrive,” Highdrive said, managing a nervous smile as his servo subconsciously rubbed over the previously grabbed area. Yup, there were definitely a couple of dents he’d need to buff out when he got the chance. “And no worries.”

That seemed to be enough to satisfy Bulkhead, if his smiling jawline was anything to go by. A nano sec later, he was blinking, all giddy again like a sparkling overdosed on sweetened energon. “Oh, you haven’t met Bee yet! Come on, I’ll introduce you!”

Before Highdrive could blink, he was swept up by the large Autobot and taken inside the old ship like some guest of honour. The tight squeeze holding him in place against Bulkhead’s frame was enough to warn him not to get on the other’s bad side.

“Hey Bumblebee! The new bot’s here!” Bulkhead excitedly announced as he took them into what seemed like the command room. In the commander’s chair was a slim, yellow, and grey mech, taking a stasis nap. He couldn’t be the commander, could he? Not wanting to risk upsetting his new superior on his first day, Highdrive took the plunge.

“Uh, it’s g-good to meet you, sir,” Highdrive managed to wheeze out.

“Sir?’ both Bulkhead and the smaller bot – Bumblebee – repeated, blinking at him in surprise as if he had just told them he himself was their commanding officer. Highdrive flinched, instantly regretting his assumption.

“Are you not the commander?”

“Pft, no,” Bumblebee sneered, casually flipping his peds up on the dashboard. All too comfortable with occupying the commanding seat, despite his lack in both title and possibly qualifications.

“Then why are you…?” Highdrive trailed off after noticing the way Bumblebee’s optics seemed to darken. A sore spot. A wound better left untouched. “Noted…”

“So, what frag-up got you here?” Bumblebee asked, getting to his peds, and resting his servos on his hip plating once Bulkhead deemed it safe to release his hold on Highdrive.

“I’d… rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind,” Highdrive admitted, pretending to find an interest in dust that decided the corner was a good place spot to begin its invasion.

Bumblebee casually shrugged his shoulders, pulling over a mop and bucket from who knows where, and shoved them right into Highdrive’s servos. “You’re on clean up duty. Doc bot says we gotta get this old dump clean before the new Prime gets here.”

Highdrive blinked. “Prime?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bumblebee frowned, arching an optic ridge in question, “do you not know what a Prime is?”

“Of course I know what a Prime is,” Highdrive found himself hissing back, earning a surprised blink from the shorter mech. All Cybertronians knew what Primes were. He’d have had to online on some far away organic planet to not know about something so simple about their planet’s culture. Slag, even the Decepticons knew what a Prime was, even if they themselves haven’t been around for eons after the war ended with the Autobots coming out on top. Breathing air out through his vents, Highdrive straightened himself out. “Why is a Prime coming here though? Is there some inspection or something?”

“Nope. Doc bot said he got demoted or something. That he’s lucky to still keep his title after whatever he did,” Bumblebee hummed, casting a glance up at Bulkhead, “though I guess we all are.”

Highdrive didn’t dare ask as he looked to the two objects in his servos. He had no idea Bumblebee could be so right.

[agathaarts]

TF: Toku - The Weirdest Day

When Orion is kidnapped by the Decepticons- he expects the worst. Instead, he gets the strangest.

THE WEIRDEST DAY A short story from Transformers: Toku

-----

Orion had seen miracles. He had spoken with the first Primes, touched technology so ancient as to be magic, stood before the light of Vector Sigma. He had experienced things so unique he doubted any being save for Ariel and Dion would believe him if he told them, about Predacon Kings and leaping across the surface of Luna One as no-one had in decades.

So it was no small feat that this?

This took the oilcake for the weirdest day of his life.

By far.

First had come fear. The Seekers who had taken him must have been laying in wait, hidden in the ruins he'd been spending the past week exploring, and they'd struck when he was alone- guard down, distracted, Ariel would've admonished him but no one was ever prepared for a streak of blue and a streak of purple to hit them simultaneously. They’d dropped out of nowhere and yanked him up off his feet and into the air so fast the wind had been knocked from his vents. Even with all the practice he’d been getting flying in the armor lately, the whole world had flipped upside-down and a mix of disorientation and surprise left him flailing uselessly.

The Seekers (dangling by his ankles from their hands, it was easy enough to recognize them- Starscream’s lieutenants, Thundercracker and Skywarp, and he thought about the fights they’d had with them. About their powers- to stun and to teleport and, wait, to teleport!?) were saying something that he honestly couldn’t focus on, spark going so fast he was hearing static and watched helplessly as a smattering of purple sparks flickered across Skywarp’s armor- and then Thundercracker’s, and his- and-

VWOP

Oh. Teleporting like this sucked.

At least he was spared the indignity of screaming by the fact that he had to keep his mouth pressed shut to avoid purging his tanks when all momentum and gravity twisted and vanished and then came back in a godawful rush. Suddenly, he understood why Ariel had hated fighting this guy so damn much. He hit a purple, metal floor and struggled for air as he pushed himself to sit up, realizing that his vents were steaming in cold, cold air.

Skywarp collapsed into a heap next to him, and it all came together quite terribly.

The teleporter’s sudden exhaustion (Skywarp moaned pitifully as Thundercracker tried to pull him back upright with a curse), the sudden piercing cold- he looked up at a sky pale with clouds and rippling with electromagnetic bands of color, and found snow drifting down through the fog of his breaths. It hadn’t been the cold season, in the Iaconian territories. Not for a while, yet.

“Kaon.” He breathed, finally managing to swallow half-digested bile. Kaon, seat of the Decepticon empire, situated in Cybertron’s arctic circle. Skywarp had just teleported him a quarter of the way across the planet without using a groundbridge.

He turned to look at the Seekers again, and found himself face to face with a charging cannon.

A quarter of the way across the planet, directly to the Decepticon stronghold, by the looks of things. Mostly, now, he was focused on the glow of the cannon in his face, and then up to the huge violet mechanism it was attached to. “Rise.” Shockwave ordered in a wheezing growl.

Orion had been Optimus Prime. Primus-appointed warrior, a myth of power and nobility, he had fought dozens of Decepticons, Insecticons, Predacons, he had fought Shockwave to a standstill and assisted in even more battles. Optimus Prime would have said something defiant, noble, something to show that the mechanism was incapable of fear.

“‘Kay.” Orion squeaked, getting to his feet, clutching at his own arms as a cold wind picked up, suddenly wishing he’d at least bought along insulated armor. He’d seen images of this place, albeit from outside, studied possible defenses in the event that they ever found a weakness in this fortress. Like he hadn’t agreed with Ariel and Dion that an assault on the Decepticon stronghold would have been suicidal. Still, he recognized the jagged shapes of the towers, the high, reinforced walls, and his spark sank with the thought that no-one was reasonably going to come for him.

Shockwave prodded him, and he walked mechanically, past the Seekers (Thundercracker now having given up and just poking the snoring Skywarp with his foot over and over) under Shockwave’s directions and into a set of huge, carved doors.

Orion felt spectacularly small, in the huge, empty halls. At least it was warmer inside, but the walk was just slow enough to make anxiety creep in and knot in his gut, and just fast enough that keeping pace in front of Shockwave’s long steps was uncomfortable. He expected to be guided to some sort of holding cell, a brig, his processor conjuring up images of torture chambers and gallows for execution, between half-formed thoughts of how did they find out? How did they know? Are they going after Ariel too? Are they going after Dion? Where did we slip up?

 And he thought about the communicator in his subspace.

If they left him alone for a moment, maybe he’d have time to get a message out before they noticed, warn them, somehow-

He was not taken to a cell. Or a small dark room. The throne room was, somehow, bigger than it looked on Decepticon broadcasts, and on the broadcasts it had looked enormous. It wasn’t...opulent, no, but something about the sheer size of the arched ceiling, the huge crystal screens along the walls, a space big enough to fly in (in fact, a few fliers hovered overhead, guards with heavy energy rifles who were tracking their progress) and big enough to pack in a few hundred Decepticons. The walk went from uncomfortable to downright agonizing when he realized who was waiting at the far end, standing up on the raised platform that held the nightmarish throne.

Even from this far away, Megatron and Starscream looked larger than life, without the benefit of the Optimus armor to raise him up and shield him. Orion had thought he felt small and undefended before, but every step closer to them was like shrinking, like his spark was falling through the floor. His standard armor may as well have been tinfoil for how vulnerable it felt.

Don’t cry in front of Megatron. He tried to berate himself, internally, in Ariel’s voice. Baby. It was already bad enough that he couldn’t keep an optic on them and had resorted to watching his feet, ventilations ragged and too-hard. Hyperventilating probably wouldn’t be a great response, either, but hey, it wasn’t breaking down. And it let him focus on other things, like the unsettling quiet of the throne room. Especially given the usual interplay of sharp arguments he’d been personally witness to between Megatron and Starscream. He really was slagged, if they were both staying quiet just to wait for him.

“My Lord.” Shockwave rumbled as they came to a stop. Orion kept his helm stubbornly down. “I present to you; Orion Pax, of Iacon.”

There was silence for a moment, before Starscream sucked in a loud ventilation and Orion winced. “Pax. That’s ironic. Peace.”

“It is the order most responsible for taking in war-orphans. The Order of Pax accounts for nearly sixty-seven per-cent of orphaned sparkling care among the Autobot territories.” Shockwave drolled out. True enough. Orion had known dozens of other Paxes, most of them without creators like him. He counted his ventilations, and looked at where the deep, grey-purple floors were scuffed by countless pedes before his own.

“You are certain this is him?” Megatron finally spoke up, voice low and smooth and Orion felt dizzy. It hadn’t been easy to fight Megatron, but it had been so much easier as Optimus Prime. Armored and armed and he was certain if he tried to get his utility axe out here and now he’d be dead before he even finished drawing it from subspace, but Optimus Prime would have stood a chance. “If there is any room for error-”

“There is not.” Shockwave put a heavy set of claws on Orion’s helm, and he let out an undignified whimper. Ariel would’ve been yelling at him, he just knew it. “My tests were extensive. His genetic coding is a perfect match.”

Oh Primus. Oh Primus, had they gotten ahold of his energon as Optimus? He thought of every time he’d been injured in the armor. Where could they have gotten a clean sample? Testing spilled energon was tough, the code degraded so fast when exposed to air or the surface of Cybertron, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t spilled energon in turn to further complicate things- had they somehow gotten into the Iaconian databases to read his own coding on file? He realized after a moment that he wasn’t even ventilating anymore, holding a breath hot in his chest. Did they have samples of his friends? Maybe it was just him, maybe they were still safe-

“As if any more testing is needed.” Starscream cut in. “Look at him! Look at that!” Starscream’s clawed hand came into Orion’s downturned gaze and talons pressed to his chin and tilted his head up, and he wondered if he was in shock, given how easily he let Starscream move his head up, and then tilt him side to side.

Megatron was looking down at him, but his expression was...inscrutable. No smug smirk of victory, or grit teeth of anger (he thought about the absolute rage Megatron’s face had held when he’d defeated him, when Optimus Prime had beaten him and then been refused the killing blow before he’d had to retreat.) Lips pursed tight, optics intent as if studying him. Trying to rationalize the adolescent who didn’t even have his final armors with the warrior who’d bested him?

Starscream turned his face the other way, and the Seeker locked eyes with him- their expression far more obvious and unguarded and...well, unsettling. Starscream was smiling, wide and wide-eyed and the smile split into a grin. “Will you look at those eyes.” The Seeker breathed, oddly quiet and soft given their usual harsh voice. Not a hint of malice or manic violence in that face, not like the fights he’d seen through Dion and Ariel’s eyes.

“Uhm.” Orion was rapidly realizing that, maybe, he didn’t know what was going on, here. This didn’t feel like an execution. Or an interrogation. Something was missing, something obvious to everyone else in the room. Starscream released his chin and he worked his mouth for a moment, but couldn’t find a word to say, instead glancing side to side. Maybe he’d hit his head when the Seekers grabbed him? Jarred his perceptive circuits.

Megatron was kneeling down, between his own height and the raised platform still more than large enough to be looking down at Orion from this position, but closer. Way too close for comfort, enough so that Orion could have reached out and put a hand on his helm with room to spare. He tried to look anywhere but Megatron. Up at the ceiling, to one side where Shockwave waited, to the other, where Starscream was still grinning and doing some sort of shuffling step side to side while those wings bobbed and flicked up and down in excitement.

Megatron cleared his vocalizer and Orion’s optics snapped back to him unwillingly. Say what you would of the warlord, but he had a presence that filled the room and demanded attention. “You know who we are?” He asked, and Orion mused over how very quiet his voice could be, when he’d only ever heard him barking order or bellowing promises of violence.

Orion gulped and nodded, unable to break focus with the burning red eyes of Megatron.

“Of course you do. I suppose it would be impossible not to, no matter who has had you.” Megatron’s gaze dropped to the autobot sigil on Orion’s chest. “Tell me, what do you know of your origins?”

Too confused and startled to do much of anything by way of resistance, Orion blinked a few times. They’d obviously had access to some form of his records, they must’ve known- Starscream’s shuffling half-dance of anticipation was growing louder the more he fidgeted. “Uhm.” He started. “I was raised by the Order of Pax, uh, when I was a mechlet, and then I was taken in by an archivist?” Something held his tongue on Alpha Trion’s name. Maybe his caretaker would be safe, still. Boy, he hated the sound of his voice, right now. Wavering and pitched with fear he was trying not to show. “And, uhm. That’s it. That’s all I know.”

Internally, he was screaming. WHAT?! WHY?! WHY DO YOU CARE WHY AM I HERE WHAT DO YOU WANT?!

It must have been obvious on his face, given the way Megatron’s expression quirked to something almost like amusement. A crooked sort of smile. “So you know very little. Perhaps nothing.”

“Uh.” Orion shrank down a bit. Because if the fear and confusion weren’t enough, he needed to feel a bit embarrassed for how little he knew, even if that wasn’t...atypical. It wasn’t as if he’d ever felt the need to look, not when he’d had Alpha Trion to care for him, to reassure him that no matter how he’d wound up in the care of the Order of Pax, he was wanted and loved at the archives. But the question caught in his throat until he croaked it out, voice breaking with a crackle of fearful static. “Why?”

Megatron rested his chin in his hand, elbow propped on his knee, thinking. “...You really do have his eyes.” His smile grew, and his expression was downright relieved. The warlord turned to his second, and Starscream only grinned wider if that were possible. “I suppose there is something to be said for a seeker’s genetics, even if he is wheeled.”

Orion silently mouthed ‘what’, because his processor’s frantic theorizing ground to a halt so abruptly that his vocalizer couldn’t quite function.

“Of course there is!” Starscream swooped around him and there were clawed hands on his arms but they were so careful, downright gentle in how they squeezed him and how Starscream peered over his shoulder with a crooning hum. “Thank goodness my coloration bred true, the poor boy wouldn’t deserve to be as dull as you!” Starscream grasped one of his wrists in a hand and it occurred to him that Starscream’s arms weren’t just blue, they were the same rich matte blue, a perfect match to his own.

“what” Orion whispered, choking on the word. Oh, the dizziness was back, and he was having trouble focusing his gaze. In fact, thinking about it, Starscream’s vibrant red plating would have been just about the right shade too. Red and blue were hardly rare colors, especially amongst Iaconians, but Starscream was certainly far more primary than most Seekers.

“Don’t mechhandle him-” Megatron sighed, rising back to his feet and gesturing for Starscream to shoo off. “Give him space, before you terrify the poor boy. Orion-” Starscream released him with a grumble, and swept forwards to stand beside Megatron, and the two of them were every inch the tall, proud, terrifying warlords who had swept across Cybertron. Made all the more terrifying by how they looked at Orion like...like...well, certainly not like an enemy, like a captured soldier. Hopeful. Relieved. Adoring. “-we have much to tell you.”

Megatron extended a hand down to him, open and palm up. Orion stared at it, mute with confusion. “what?” He mumbled, again, and tried not to think about those huge, powerful hands crumpling his armor, trying to beat him to death as Optimus Prime.

“Beginning with your heritage.” Megatron flexed his fingers, and Shockwave nudged him in the back with a sharp prod of a claw, startling him into placing his own small, unarmored hand in Megatron’s palm. He was held, and pulled up onto the raised platform before Megatron and Starscream, barely keeping his pedes under him in the process with a yelp. “You are not of Iacon, Orion.” He rolled Orion’s name smoothly, as if testing it, as if appreciating it. “You were created in Tarn, born in the great southern fortress at the border of Vos.”

Huh, thought Orion, caught in a dreamlike state where nothing quite seemed real. Maybe he really had hit his helm back there. Maybe this really was some sort of hallucination. That would have been the heart of Decepticon territories, decades ago. All that made it out of his mouth was another “w-what?”

“Orion Pax of Tarn.” Megatron practically purred it. “We believed you lost, a war was no place for a sparkling-”

“-And our fortress was destroyed-” Starscream interjected, claws on Orion’s arm again on one side, and then Megatron’s heavy hand on his other shoulder. So very trapped.

“-but fate has brought you back to us.” Orion could feel some sort of glitch turning into a cascade failure. Dizzy. Trouble focusing. Trouble moving. His body felt fuzzy and far away. “My son.”

“Our son.” Starscream added. And they looked at him like he was pricelessly important to them, unguarded and honest.

It would’ve been better if it didn’t make sense. As it was, Orion gawped, and managed to not simply say another confused ‘what’ or choke out another senseless ‘uhm’. He actually managed a full sentence, through the shock. Unfortunately, that sentence was “I’m sorry, I’m going to crash.” followed by his vision cutting out. There was a distant awareness of someone, multiple someones yelling and he didn’t fall far before there were arms around him, catching and supporting him, and then…he was out.

Megatron carefully arranged the adolescent in his arms, ignoring Starscream’s shrill cries, very aware suddenly of how small Orion was, in nothing but basic armors and without so much as a weapon on him, frowning at the autobrand that looked up at him. “Stop that.” He growled at Starscream, who whined. “He is fine, I can hardly blame him for glitching.”

“Be gentle with him!” The Seeker hissed.

“He is fine.” Megatron reassured. As it was, Orion simply vented soft and slow in his arms, slack and unconscious but unharmed. “Shockwave, have a medic sent to his quarters. I-”

“We!” Starscream added.

“-will bring him there.”

“At once, my Lord.” Shockwave would have sighed if it weren’t unprofessional. Ah, well. He could endure the inefficient softness Megatron was going to display around this...mechlet for now. If it pleased his Lord, he could see the benefit of having kidnapped his offspring. And one had to suppose, better than waiting for an Autobot to find out...and make their own plans for him.

[ask-shadowsinner]

Can I have a scenario where the tfp bots meet a cute con who is something of low importance (like being the cleaner on the nemesis). This cute con is generally nice to the bots (like to the point that the bots wonder if they know their on opposite sides) ONLY for them find out that this low rank con is THE crush of THE ENTIRE NEMESIS! (and maybe some of the bots now ;) )

Even a con can tell the a good romantic partner. The con will treat them right.

-

When you ask the question, “What makes a decepticon?” or “what is a decepticon?” your mind goes to big, menacing, aggressive mechs like Megatron. Maybe perhaps smart, cunning, and manipulative like Starscream or Soundwave. Not them. They where smaller than most of the Decepticon. Radiated a field of comfort and kindness that make you let your guard down. They also just wanted the vehicons to stop making messes after they just cleaned up.

The most aggressive thing they’ve done was swat at Bulkhead with the equivalent of a mop for tracking dirt all over the Nemesis. They threaten to clean up his act and straighten out his manners not minding he was an Autobot. They just huffily clean up the mess Bulkhead made. Other than that they’re a peach. 

Their excuse is that it’s not part of their job description they just here to clean not to chase off Autobots that wonder on board and they haven’t gotten in trouble for it so they’re not gonna stop.

After an incident leaving Megatron with lack of available Decepticons. Most of the Vehicons injured or well dead. The little Decepticon ended with the mining crew. They weren’t the best at this but in desperation they did it for Megatron. Smokescreen discovered this mine on patrol and snuck in and around fairly easy with their lack of surveillance.

He was a little surprised to see the cleaner of the Decepticons here. At least who he thinks they are from Bulkhead’s description of them.  

“Hey, hey, hey be careful buddy drop that and the whole mine blows!” they chastise a Vehicon in a oddly caring but stern tone. The Vehicon bashfully nods and now more cautiously carries the large energon crystal away. They then quick jog over to stop another from doing the same thing.

Megatron’s frame is more relaxed. soft even, around them. Breathing an air of comfort that everything it running smoothly. 

Smokescreen moves over to draw closer doing his best to stay hidden. The cleaner con talks to Megatron give him an update of how long it’d take for them clean the mine. The larger con seems pleased with the status. Smokescreen new he have to eventually call it into the bots about him spying Decepticons and a energon mine.

A crash pulls away the smaller con who leaves to investigate and Smokescreen hear’s them distantly say “Oh buddy it’s okay. It was just the cave not you.” Megatron had seemed to of followed them went they left. Smoke used this time to com in to the base.

The small con came back soon with a dinged up vehicon. Probably the one they were talking to. The ask the vehicon not to worry and just stand guard outside before leaving to assuming pick up the slack. 

It’s not long before the dinged up vehicon comes back telling of the arrival of the Autobots. Being ushered to the back the small con wasn’t in the fight but came out as the factions made there leave. Basically all the mined energon unusable cause of a vehicon’s terrible aim.

They turned to the autobots in a huff. 

“You guys certainly know how to make a mess”

-

[thanksjro]

Eugenesis, Epilogue Scene One: Buckle Up Chuckle-Fucks, It’s GO TIME.

Let me start by saying that Eugenesis is a novel that doesn’t do well with being spoiled. I have been waiting for these stupid fucking robots to get knocked up for over 250 pages now, and it has had this whole project soaking in a general anticipation that’s had my teeth on edge for literal weeks. I’ve had fun, oh absolutely. For all my wailing and moaning, this has been a fun experience. I just wish I’d been able to jump in and just get fully and completely bitch-slapped by what I now know has to be just over the horizon. It just has to be. To have the slow, dawning horror of what’s to come- now that would have been something else.

Then again, I probably wouldn’t have started this blog if I hadn’t known, so it’s all about even I’d say. Can’t exactly go back and change the past, y’know? Just gotta make do.

Also, why does nobody ever bring up just how unbelievably dark this novel is? It’s always about the mechpreg, but not a word of the fucking suicide party. What’s up with that?

Alright, enough pontificating. Let’s go.

And I thought the last Part title was on the nose. Alright, let’s see who’s gone and had premarital relations.

So, it’s the day after the battle, and everyone’s cleaning up the bodies. There are a lot of bodies.

Wheeljack and Sygnet are hard at work fixing up the former POWs, trying to get them back to working order.

I thought Soundwave more or less took care of this issue. Maybe there’s still some lingering side-effects to the Inhibitor Chip.

Outside, Chromedome and Throwback- it’s always fucking Throwback- are digging through the wreckage of the Ark, trying to find enough of Bluestreak to put back together.

Fortunately, unless there’s something really weird I missed about the Ark, chairs don’t have mouths, so this should be the real deal that they’ve found. They start hauling Bluestreak back towards Delphi, when Astrotrain shows up, carrying a Nightbeat that makes Bluestreak’s current condition look downright pristine.

Shortly after, Perceptor goes to check on our dear detective, greeted by the grim musings of Red Alert in the waiting room. It’s not looking good for Nightbeat; they can’t find a sparkline, and he just started seizing. Ratchet gets called in.

While this chaos is happening, Hosehead asks about Optimus’ last words.  

Well, it’s a good thing he undeaded Rodimus with the Matrix, then, isn’t it?

Soundwave enters the scene, asking for a moment of Perceptor’s time. They step into the other room, and Soundwave announces that the Decepticons are leaving, and will be staying in the Quintesson Fortress for the time being. Perceptor thinks that this is all a little sudden, and asks about where the factions currently stand. If Soundwave has his way, the war is over. However, if Galvatron is still alive…

Soundwave, if he shows back up, just punch your fingers through the guy’s skull and kill him at this point. This is ridiculous.

Ratchet, your bedside manner is atrocious.

Meanwhile, Wheeljack is talking shop with Sygnet- or rather, talking it at him- when the guy just up and leaves the room. Soundwave’s just let all the Decepticons know it’s time to get going. Wheeljack knows that Sygnet was entertaining the thought of being an Autobot again, and tries to appeal to his better nature. It doesn’t work.

Wheeljack, that’s petty.

Sygnet leaves, flying off into the sunset after his comrades.

Before he left, Soundwave mentioned that the Autobots may want to leave Delphi for somewhere less… exploded. Perceptor took the suggestion to heart, and the Autobots are packing everything up to move into… Kledji concentration camp. Yeah, I know, but it’s the only place with enough space for all of them.

Perceptor returns to the medical bay to speak with Ratchet, who’s in over his head at this point. There are simply too many bodies for the supplies they have left. They’re running out of usable equipment, and the anti-Inhibitor Chip won’t be done for another couple weeks at least, meaning that the POWs are just going to keep deteriorating. Ratchet’s had to make some hard decisions. Decisions on who lives and who dies. Prowl is about to be one of those decisions.

Perceptor leaves.

Over at the Quintesson Fortress, Soundwave is contemplating a new name for their new digs. He’s liking the sound of Xerxes, which was the name of the stadium where he’d first met Megatron.  

Killlllll hiiiiiiiiim.

Soundwave goes a-wanderin’ through the medical wards, where there’s more than enough room and supplies left from when the Quintessons were here. Hey, uh, Soundwave? Think you could maybe slide some of that medical goodness over Ratchet’s way so he doesn’t have to play god? Maybe? Hmmmmm?

Sygnet found a cache of the Inhibitor Chips to play with, so the deadline on those anti-Chips just became null and void, as they start injecting edited ones into the POWs. They have no idea what the side-effects will be, but at least they won’t be paralyzed and have their brains decaying inside their heads.

Off in the corner, Scourge is about to come back online. Oh, so he’s okay. Where’s Cyclonus? I wanna see him.

Oh no, that means Cyclonus is probably dead, isn’t he? I was hoping he’d be in this at least a bit more than he was. Darn.

Why Scourge knows what’s happening currently can’t be addressed right now, because Soundwave’s just gone into labor.

Yeah. Just like that. No preamble. He just does. Everyone just kinda watches in horror as this happens- apparently if you so much as think about touching someone during morphbirth you’ll fuck up the baby. Soundwave’s having just an awful time- everything hurts and his joints are all bleeding. He’s too old for this shit. He’s not even someone who’s supposed to be able to do this.

The horrors of parenthood just keep going- for never having done this before, Soundwave sure is an overachiever.

That is eighteen robots, for those keeping track at home. Once Soundwave’s chest stops vomiting up goo, Fulcrum finally remembers that he’s a doctor and gets the guy a little privacy, by putting up some partitions around him and his literal mess of children. Now they just have to wait as the coding kicks in.

Oh boy, lets see what we got in our mechpreg grab bag!

...Xenon what did YOU DO??

Man, that postpartum depression is grabbing Soundwave right off the bat.