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glissadia · 17 days ago

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Upon Further Examination

A professor does her best to figure out why her student's ritual circle isn't working, and discovers that the issue may be a bit bigger than she thought. 6k words.

"Three. Two. One. Ignite. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Indicators. Four. Three. Two. One."

"Failed," Selin states in time with my counting, doing a halfway-decent job of masking her frustration and disappointment. I nod approvingly, as I’ve done each attempt, because it’s still important to acknowledge the adherence to procedure.

"Quench," I respond, picking my earlier cadence back up. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Release. One. Two. Disengage."

Selin steps back from the now-inert ritual circle and I step forward to check her work. Today I’m acting as her examiner, rather than my usual role as her mentor, so I’m supposed to keep my observations to myself. However, I think we’ve gotten past the point where I need to stick to the standard process.

"Perfect," I speak aloud, and Selin jumps slightly. "Your inscriptions are more than within tolerance for preciseness, you’re following your derived procedures to the letter, your timing would put the carillon tower to shame, and I can’t identify a single fault with your channeling."

"Wait, so I got the ritual right this time?" Selin asks, her voice equally confused and hopeful. "Then why didn’t it work?"

I shake my head.

"You got it right every time," I tell her. "Even the first two attempts, which I intentionally sabotaged without your notice, according to academy procedure. You corrected and compensated without prompting."

I don’t have to look at Selin to anticipate the indignant response that revelation will elicit, so I simply hold up my hand to silence her.

"It’s not the moon, it’s not ambient interference, and it’s sure as hell not my materials. It’s not your procedures, your written report has no problems on paper and I tested it last night in this very room, so it’s not the location either."

Sure enough, when I tested Selin’s ritual myself in preparation for today, the brilliant purple spark had appeared in midair and fragmented into responsive motes, just as she had designed it to do. By her own accounts it had worked just as well while she was developing it, so we should be seeing at least some sort of magical response from the ritual besides the barest, halfhearted ionizing glow coming from the air above the circle, and yet here we were, twenty-two attempts later. I would normally have to penalize her for taking this many attempts, but that part of the rubric was written under the assumption that failure would be due to something on the student’s part. This, however…

"So what is wrong with it, Professor?" Selin asks as she slumps down into one of the armchairs arranged against the wall of my workshop. "I know you’re not supposed to tell me until after the exam, but…"

"Nothing," I say as I sit down next to her, with a bit more grace. "Absolutely nothing at all, besides the fact that it is simply not working. Selin, I genuinely have no idea what to tell you. I’m half-tempted to just award you full marks and some extra credit on top of it and call it a day."

"Well don’t do that," she whines. "How am I supposed to call it a success if it doesn’t work when it’s supposed to?"

"You do realize most students wouldn’t hesitate to accept that offer, right?"

"Well there’s a reason you’re mentoring me and not them," Selin says, and I concede the point with a chuckle. The girl has a work ethic and level of tenacity I haven’t seen in years. What makes her stand out even more is the fact that when she was my student in introductory classes, I had initially assumed she would wash out of the program. It took her almost twice as long as most of the other students to get her fundamental spell weaving up to par, and her magic still has a tendency to try and run away from her in a way that’s amusingly familiar. But what she lacks in control, Selin more than makes up for with her sheer breadth of comprehension of theory. With time and effort, she’s grown to become the most promising student in her year, and I was quite excited to see what she came up with for her end-of-semester project. It was ambitious, sure, but pulling it off should be fully within her capabilities, and yet success has eluded her thus far today. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she refused to leave my quarters until the ritual succeeded, be it hours or until the end of the day or even longer. I myself would be remiss to end before she got it working, but at this point I genuinely have no idea what to do.

"Why don’t you take a break?" I suggest. "Just half an hour. You can ask Ember to make tea. I’ll stay here and work out the problem, then you can come back with a fresh mind and it’ll work this time."

I can tell Selin does not share my optimism, nor does she want to give up even temporarily, but exhaustion wins out and she nods, standing up and removing her apron and protective goggles before exiting the workshop. I remain, close my eyes, and focus my mind the problem at hand.

Fifteen minutes later and I’m only more frustrated. I tested this yesterday and it worked. There should be no effective difference between the two setups. What the hell is going on?

The softest, quietest tink of porcelain interrupts my thoughts, and I open my eyes to see Ember setting down a cup and saucer on the end table next to my chair. My maid’s lips quirk in dissatisfaction when she realizes that she wasn’t quite silent enough to go unnoticed, but quickly return to her usual warm smile.

"You’ll get me one of these days," I assure her, and she stifles an amused snort. "How’s Selin?"

"Antsy, but she’s staying in one place, at least," Ember responds. "I think the failure is getting to her."

"And to I as well," I sigh. "She’s executing the ritual even more precisely than I did, and nothing."

I pick up the cup from the saucer, then pause as I notice the contents and raise one eyebrow at Ember.

"What is hot cocoa if not tea made of chocolate steeped in milk?" she says, with an ever-so-slightly mischievous lilt to her voice. "I thought you both could use the comfort."

I roll my eyes, though there’s no real annoyance behind it. A small sip confirms that it’s been heated well beyond the boiling point, the enchantment on the cup preventing it from evaporating or scalding, and I breathe a sigh of contentment. She knows me too well.

"Would you like me to give it a look, my lady?" Ember asks. "Fresh eyes could spot something new, perhaps?"

"You’re welcome to, if you’d like," I tell her. I don’t honestly expect her to find anything, though not for any lack of faith on my part in my maid’s skill. I just can’t imagine there’s anything to find.

Ember walks around the outside of the ritual circle a few times, staring at it intently as I sip my cocoa. I try to keep thinking, picking apart the problem in different ways, but the answer continues to elude me. When Ember speaks up again, the distraction is very welcome.

"She’s using your mana siphon design. Integrated correctly, but still not standard. Is that a problem?"

"No, it should work just like the standard design for her. A bit more efficiently, even, which I assume is why she’s using it," I say. Ember knows this, of course, but it’s still good to talk things out. Maybe something will spark an epiphany.

"Hmm." She’s quiet for another moment. "And you recreated this last night exactly, including the siphon, correct?"

"It’s the design I have to grade, so naturally," I confirm. "It worked flawlessly, first try."

"Even with the compensation runes?"

I frown.

"I suppressed them temporarily, like I always do with that design. My magic only needs compensation when I’m reproducing the standard siphon design, you know this," I say, not entirely sure where she’s going with this. The runes hidden in the walls of my workshop and the classrooms I teach in are critical for ensuring rituals designed without my own little custom component actually function properly and don't just immediately fizzle out. My own magic doesn't play nicely with rituals, so any mana siphon attempting to use it to power one finds itself promptly overwhelmed unless it's built to handle that kind of mana (like my design is) or the volatility in my magic is compensated for, like the runes do.

"And they’re on now, because that’s their normal state," Ember hums. "Out of curiosity, what would happen if you tried this ritual with the compensation runes active?"

"Modifying the design to use a standard mana siphon? I can’t see any reason why I wouldn’t be able—"

"No," Ember cuts me off. "As implemented."

"It wouldn’t work, obviously. The siphon’s design is too specific for properly collecting my magic processed to behave like normal magic, it has to be either or. Standard siphons are more forgiving, but less efficient."

"So the siphon would get overloaded and fail relatively quickly?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I can see where you’re going with this, but it’s wrong," I say, leaning forward in my chair and placing the now-empty cup back down on the saucer. "To the runes, normal mana might as well not exist. They wouldn’t do anything to Selin’s, she’s the one igniting the ritual, and the ritual isn’t tandem nor does it collect ambient mana. My magic isn’t affecting things at all, I’ve made sure of it."

"What if her magic needs to be compensated for?"

"I—"

The notion is ludicrous. So ludicrous that I start to respond without thinking, but then cut myself off. If I was the one doing the ritual, then yes, I’d need to suppress the runes in order for it to work, just like I did last night. I never designed my improved mana siphon to work with them, because there was absolutely no need to and it would have just complicated the inscription. If I still tried anyway, though… the siphon would eke out the barest amount of mana, then promptly give up. The distribution lines would do their best to convey the mana to the rest of the circle, which would… which wouldn’t even get through the first step of the intended output. No spark. It would try, though, and if I had to guess, that weak, mana-starved attempt would probably look just like a faint purple glow in the air, and nothing else.

It doesn’t make sense. It makes too much sense. It explains everything nicely and raises so many more questions. I desperately want to hang onto any possible evidence it’s not true, because it couldn’t be. I would know. And there’s no way. No way at all. But…

"But she’s human," I say, voice a little weaker and more unsure than I’d like. Ember simply raises an eyebrow again.

"You thought you were."

I sigh. I don’t want to acknowledge even the remotest possibility of Ember being right, but at my core I’m too much of a scientist to not at least attempt to test the possibility.

"It’s been long enough; she’ll be itching to try again," I say, defeated. "You go get her, I’ll turn off the compensation runes."

"Of course, my lady," my maid says, in that way she’s perfected that conveys very little of the deference the title would imply. She exits the workshop, and I get back to my feet, turning around and placing my hand on the wall. A twist of will sees the rune contained within made dormant for a time, and I walk to and repeat the process with the other five walls, finishing just as Selin rushes in with Ember behind her.

"What’d you figure out?" Selin asks excitedly, already throwing her apron back on and pulling her hair back. "Are we good to go?"

"There’s… a chance we are," I hedge. "I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but I’ve tried something and there’s a very remote possibility it should work now, no other modifications necessary."

"Alright!" Selin cheers, tying the apron strings behind her back. "You don’t sound very hopeful, though."

"The lady has a tendency to temper her expectations to an unreasonable degree," Ember says, insolent little creature that she is. "I have faith in your abilities, Selin."

"Aw, thanks!" Selin says, grabbing the materials she needs for another attempt. "Anything I should do differently or just like I designed?"

"Just like you designed," I confirm. "And if this doesn’t work then please don’t feel discouraged."

"No promises!" she declares, working with remarkable efficiency. "Okay, prepped and reset for another go."

I give her work a cursory glance, but I have no doubt it’ll be perfect, just like all the other attempts. Alright. No time like the present.

"On my call," I say, and Selin nods. "Three. Two. One. Ignite."

Selin pours her magic into the circle once again, and the air above the ritual circle blooms, brilliant purple light coalescing into one single, shining point. I allow myself a fraction of a second to process, which is not nearly enough, but I have a job to do.

"Seven. Six. Five. Four," I call, and the spark fragments, much smaller points of light rapidly spreading out to fill the cylindrical space above the ritual circle. There must be thousands of them, and the density Selin has achieved is noticeably greater than what I managed last night with the exact same conditions. "Three. Two. One. Indicators. Four. Three. Two. One."

"Succeeded," Selin declares, voice full of pride. The results are plain to see, stabilizing well before the seven second mark and taking much less than four to interpret.

"Hold," I continue in cadence. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Stable."

Selin hesitantly sticks her hand into the field of purple, and the motes in a small radius around it drift towards her. She clenches her hand into a fist, and they rapidly move to coat her hand, before all suddenly jumping back into position when she opens her hand again. She beams at me.

"Well done," I say as I release a bit of the tension in my body, though not all of it, and catch Ember’s eye. She’s grinning at me very smugly, which I suppose is well-deserved. This… complicates things.

"Told you it works," Selin says, self-satisfaction oozing out of every pore. She pulls her hand back and the pinpricks of purple light stay where they are, having done their job in this demonstration.

"If you’ll recall, I never doubted that it should," I respond. Okay, time to start teasing this mystery apart. "Selin, your mana siphon. Why did you use my design over the standard one? It must have been harder to integrate."

"Huh? Oh, the siphon. Because the standard one sucks and yours is better?" Selin says as she pushes her goggles up to her forehead. Somehow I don’t think she means it solely as a compliment.

"It’s harder to inscribe than the standard version, though," I prompt her. "And reproducibility was one of the factors you were instructed to keep in mind when designing your project."

"Well yeah, of course I thought about that," she defends. "And I started with the usual one, like I’m supposed to, but I’m bad at inscribing it and I could never get it right so I just rebuilt the ritual around yours and I actually started getting results."

I freeze. She does not mean what I think she means. She can’t.

"What do you mean you’re bad at inscribing it?" I ask. "Your inscriptions are some of the most precise I’ve ever seen."

"Aww, thanks," Selin blushes. "And I mean I’m bad at it! I can only get it to work half the time, usually when you’re helping me. Anything that’s designed by you always works for me. It’s consistent!"

It’s consistent because I always deactivate the compensation runes in my classrooms and workshop when we’re working with rituals I’ve designed, because of the fact that they interfere with each other. And any time she’s tried a ritual with my mana siphon outside of those places, there aren’t runes to worry about. But no, that would mean…

"Selin, have you ever successfully completed a ritual using the standard siphon outside of this room or a classroom?"

"Uh, well… not really?" she admits sheepishly. Oh goddess. "I’ve just kinda taken to modifying the rituals when I’m at home, 'cause there isn’t an instructor there to tell me off for doing it wrong."

"You’re modifying rituals to include my mana siphon?" I ask, flabbergasted. "You can’t just put it in place of the old one; the integrations are completely different!"

"Uh, yeah?" Selin says, sounding confused. "It’s not that difficult to rework the distribution lines around it."

Yes it is. Yes it fucking is. I don’t say that to her, though, instead turning to the room’s other occupant, whose grin is almost too wide for her face at this point.

"Fine. Fine! You win, Ember," I declare, throwing my hands up in the air. "You were right, I was wrong. She can’t do rituals without compensating."

"I’m so glad your humility hasn’t left you, my lady," Ember beams. Selin, meanwhile, just looks confused.

"Sorry, 'compensating?'" she asks. "I’m not doing anything differently, as far as I know. What did you figure out? Why did it work this time?"

I sigh.

"You didn’t do anything different. It was a problem with my workshop, which I apologize for. But, we’re not quite done yet. This is not part of your exam, but I’d appreciate it if you humored me anyway. Light spell, as by-the-book as you can."

Selin’s confused expression only deepens, but she obliges me, holding up a hand and making a simple ball of light appear above it. It roils and shifts, maintaining a loosely spherical shape as it ebbs and flows. Selin’s magic has frequently expressed itself this way, and while I’ve drawn parallels to my own experiences, I never made the conclusion that it’s seeming like I should have.

"Hold it there, don’t lose focus," I instruct her as I walk back towards the wall. With a touch, I draw back out the mana keeping the rune within suppressed, fixing my eyes on the Selin’s light spell as I do so. It flickers, though not by much. I walk to two more walls and do the same thing, then return to my student. With half the runes in effect, the ball of light has calmed itself a bit, still far from static but significantly more under control. Selin looks to be concentrating hard on keeping it stable, her lips pursed, but I don’t offer her any insight, instead walking to the remaining three walls and reactivating the runes contained within. Walking back up, I can see that the little ball of light has become a perfect, static sphere, as textbook as I’ve ever seen. Selin looks up at me questioningly, but I preempt her with a question of my own.

"Are you sure you’re human?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" she asks incredulously.

"Like I asked earlier, please humor me," I say patiently.

"I… yes?" she says, and I can tell she truly believes it. "There’s some elven blood on my dad’s side if you go back like eight generations, but that’s extremely diluted, I know how this works."

And indeed, it should not have this kind of effect oh her magic. But, what I’m asking about isn’t something brought about by genetics.

"Release and disengage the ritual at your leisure, then you two start cleaning up," I order. "I need to grab something. Ember, don’t bias her while I’m gone."

"Bias me?"

"My lady?"

"I’m doing a test," I state, and Ember’s eyes go wide.

"Hey wh—"

The rest of Selin’s confused exclamation is cut off as I abruptly turn on my heel and yank myself through space, the workshop around me immediately transitioning into a new, much larger space. Cavernous walls of rough-hewn rock, globes of magical light suspended from the very high ceiling, and approximately forty fireballs spontaneously generated and fired towards me by the wards the second I take a step forward. My stride doesn’t falter as they hit and harmlessly wash over me, my robes being enchanted to protect themselves and anything contained within the many pockets from flame. That doesn’t include the wearer, but, well. The day I can’t handle a bit of fire is the day I die.

I was lucky enough to find this cave a couple of centuries back, and promptly sealed it up and warded it to high heaven to prevent anyone else from doing so after me. If anyone else besides me or my staff tried to get in here, they’d be faced with a lot worse than just fireballs. They’re more of a precaution, anyway. Plus, the heat is nice. These mountains don’t have any geothermal activity, so the entire cave system has to be heated magically, which takes a lot of energy.

It doesn’t take me long to reach the cave’s main event, since while this chamber is absolutely massive, so is the pile of treasure it contains. For years, I never really understood the appeal of having a hoard, but the very first time I held a gemstone the size of an apple in my hands, I was hooked. That was a long, long, time ago, though, and now my trove has grown to a size even the most ascetic of my kin would salivate over. Not that they’ll ever get to see it, of course, nor will any humans. Very few people know my true identity, and I like it that way. I doubt my life of tenured pedagogy would be quite so peaceful if the rest of the staff knew there was anything more to me than an experienced noblewoman with a penchant for magical research and a slightly strange magical response to rituals. Anonymity holds power, in this world, which is one of the many reasons why part of me greatly dislikes the idea of potentially revealing myself. But, I’m forced to admit, if I’m correct, the alternative would be worse for Selin, and I like the poor girl far too much for that.

I spend around half an hour searching through the piles, examining each splotch of color poking out from in between pieces of gold from this century and many past. My search criteria is very specific, and it’s not like I can just pull some random ruby out and be done with it. I’m loathe to part with even a single piece from my collection, as any self-respecting dragon would be, but I know that if this test succeeds then there will be no way I’m getting this back. Finally, though, I spot it. A brilliant purple, Selin’s favorite color. Round, roughly cut (though that just adds charm, in my opinion), and large enough that it’s awkward to carry in only one hand. Corundum. It’s perfect. …Now I just have to find something to carry it in.

When I return to my workshop, a large felt bag clasped in my hands, my eyes barely have time to focus before I’m assaulted with a shrill exclamation.

"You can teleport!?" Selin yells, and I wince before schooling my expression.

"Were you waiting the entire time just to ask that?" I say tersely.

"Well yeah, you just disappeared so what else was I supposed to do after cleaning up?" Selin responds, and I am pleased to see the workshop is looking spotless. "Ember won’t even talk to me and I am still very confused as to what is going on."

"I apologize for leaving you in the dark, so to speak, but this is very important," I sigh. "Yes, I can teleport, it’s rather advanced magic and relatively inaccessible to most people, but I will teach you, should you desire. In any case, I think things will very soon become clear. Come."

I turn and walk towards the door, navigating down the hall and to the sitting room. As expected, Ember is waiting there, tea already prepared. Cinnamon this time, I can smell, not chocolate. I sit down on one of the chairs, bag in my lap, and motion for the other girls to do the same. Selin picks the chair opposite me, looking at me intently, while Ember picks the couch to the side of us. She always gets squirmy when she’s excited, and that’s quite evident now, despite her attempts to sit still.

"So, first things first," I begin. "Nothing you are about to see or hear is to be discussed outside of my quarters, and never with anyone besides me or my staff. Do you understand?"

"'Staff,' plural?" Selin says, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Ember. "Are there more?"

"Cinder and Tinder tend to the estate while I’m teaching; you’ll be introduced to them eventually," I elaborate, and before she can think too much on the names I continue. "Besides Ember and I, you will not breathe a word of this to anyone else. I repeat, do you understand?"

"Yes," Selin nods, and I can tell she means it. Everything that’s happening is much too intriguing for her to just walk away.

"Good," I say, then reach into the bag and tug it off of the gemstone contained within, watching Selin’s expression carefully. "Secondly, congratulations on passing your practical exam. As I said earlier, I will be awarding you full marks, plus extra credit."

As I reveal the giant purple corundum, I see the spark in Selin’s eyes, and my theory is confirmed. A bittersweet feeling washes over me at that. As much as I was enjoying the relatively solo life (well, as solo as a girl can be with three kobolds), it’s nice to know that I’ll be mentoring my favorite student for a good while longer yet. I stand up, holding the gem in both hands, and walk over to Selin, holding it out to her.

"A gift," I tell her. "And hopefully a fitting start to your collection."

Her eyes grow even wider than they already were, and she reaches up, almost reverently, taking the gemstone from my grasp. I feel a pang in my heart as it leaves my hands, but I push it down. This is necessary. I’m not going to let her wander, lost, like I did.

"I… I don’t know what to say," Selin starts as I walk back to my chair and sit down. "This is… this is too much. What even… what?"

"Purple corundum," I state matter-of-factly. "The same thing that rubies and sapphires are made of, just with a different name and color. Near flawless, as best I can tell. I’ll help you weigh and grade it later. You’ll want to know."

"Professor, this is… how much is this even worth?" Selin nearly whines, most of her sense of decorum leaving her. Which is understandable.

"Oh, I have no idea," I tell her, semi-honestly, then lean forward in my seat. "If it’s too much, then simply give it back. I’ll find you something more appropriate."

She looks at the gemstone for a long while, longer than she thinks, I’m sure. Then, very slowly, she brings it down to her chest, holding and hugging it despite the weight. I nod approvingly. There really was no chance of anything else.

"Then, thirdly, your ritual," I say, and I think I manage to recapture most of her attention. "Like I said, the problem was with my workshop, not you or your execution. I would like to once again apologize for causing that unnecessary stress."

"That’s… alright," Selin nods. "What was the problem, if you don’t mind me asking?"

"The answer is rather complicated, but I’ll do my best to explain," I start. "While my preferences lie in other fields, I do consider myself somewhat of an expert in ritual magic, and I’d hope my teaching position supports that assertion. This is in spite of a rather curious quirk of my magic, which interacts with most modern ritual designs in a way that precludes them from working. Unless, of course, the ritual circle utilizes the mana siphon I designed some two hundred years ago to address this very issue. You, Selin, have this same quirk."

"Okay, wait, slow down," she says. "I’ve seen you use the standard mana siphon before. I’ve used it before. And my ritual used yours, but it wasn’t working. Also, sorry, did you say two hundred years?"

"Young lady, you should know better than to ask about a woman’s age," I admonish her, and savor the wounded expression on her face for the couple of seconds I can manage to prevent my mouth from cracking into a smile. "But yes, I am significantly older than I look. And in regards to your other questions, there is more than one way to mitigate the effects of this quirk, which I had to do before I designed my own ritual components. Built into the walls of my workshop and classrooms are runes that, when activated, compensate for the volatility of my magic, forcing it to behave as normal to standard mana siphons."

Understanding begins to dawn on Selin’s face.

"So when you had me do the light spell and it got less and less chaotic…"

"The runes were processing and calming your magic as I activated them, yes."

"That… makes a surprising amount of sense," she says. "The standard siphon only working for me in the classrooms and your workshop, not at home. Wait, but what was the problem with my ritual, then? I was using your design, that takes care of the issue, you said."

"It does, yes," I nod. "The problem was that I, not knowing about your situation, left the runes activated for your exam. The siphon does not process my magic after it has been affected by the runes, due to the specificity of the design, and neither was it processing yours. When I deactivated the runes, as I do whenever I deal with rituals of my own design, that allowed your natural magic to fuel the ritual as normal, and thus leading to the success. The compensation runes have no effect whatsoever on magic without this quirk, so I did not expect them to have any effect on your performance."

"Huh," Selin responds, thoughtfully. "I assume you’re willing to show me the runes so I can use them myself?"

"I do plan on doing so," I nod affirmatively. "They’re not exactly simple, but I have no doubt you’ll be able to reproduce them with relatively little effort."

"Well, okay then!" she beams. "That’s good to know. Use your siphon when I can, use the runes for the standard version, don’t mix and match. That all seems pretty clear. I don’t really get why this is such a secret, though."

I sigh. Here’s where we get to the more significant part of this conversation.

"Selin, you are the twelfth person I have met in my life besides me with this condition. This is over many centuries, and I know there are a number more I have not met but experience the same thing, since it follows a very clear pattern. I hope you believe me when I tell you how rare this is, and that I am very confident when I say it is indicative of more overall characteristics of the person the volatile magic comes from. I was initially extremely unwilling to believe that the runes were responding to you, for the very simple reason that the runes do not respond to humans, nor most other races. Yet your magic is of the variety they were designed for, which only stems from one source."

"So, what are you saying?" she asks me, pulling the gemstone a little tighter against herself. "That I’m not human? How the hell could I not be?"

"In this case, it’s a matter of the soul," I tell her. "I do not know the exact mechanism behind it, for there are so few of us to be studied, and I am still not entirely sure how similar it is for other races. But, sometimes, very rarely, a person can be born with a soul not befitting of their body, and this leads to a mismatch. One that could potentially go unnoticed for their entire lives, given a lack of the right circumstances. Such a case is certainly a tragedy, which means that it is my responsibility to prevent the same from happening to you."

She takes a deep breath.

"Just… out with it. Stop dancing around whatever it is."

Well. Here we go.

"Selin, every single person whose magic behaves like this is a dragon."

To her credit, she doesn’t laugh.

"Bullshit," is her response, soft, too quickly. I say nothing, and simply draw my hand down my face, letting my human visage fall away and the deep blue scales of my true form shine through, though still in a somewhat humanoid shape. Selin gasps at my sudden reveal, then glances over to Ember, whose disguise falls away at the same time mine does, leaving a short orange kobold sitting on the couch instead, tail rapidly wagging. She’s still wearing a smaller version of her maid uniform, though, and waves happily to a stunned Selin.

"I hope you understand why I asked you to keep this a secret," I say, only managing to hide around half of the amusement I’m currently feeling. Not much of my body is visible with the robes, but it should certainly be enough.

"I… yes," Selin responds, finally managing to find her voice again. "But you’re… that’s not… I’m not…"

"Here’s a proposal for you," I say to her, leaning forward to give my folded-up wings some space. "Hand the stone back to me, or fail my class."

The immediate look of shock and betrayal on her face is just what I expected, so I escalate, holding out my scaled palm and summoning a roiling ball of flame above it.

"Hand the stone back to me, or die."

She tenses up, eyes narrowing. I know that look, and while it is what I’m fishing for, I don’t particularly feel like ruining my sitting room with a mage battle, so I extinguish the flame and raise both my palms up deferentially while lowering my head.

"Easy, easy," I placate, letting my human form wash back over me to break her concentration. She blinks, eyes refocusing, so that hopefully did the trick. "I’m not going to take it away, I promise. I’m sorry."

"G-good," Selin says. Then, after a moment, her eyes widen. "Wait, holy shit, I didn’t mean to… fuck, I am so sorry, um—"

I lower my left hand, letting the right one remain up to stop her.

"It’s exactly the reaction I was provoking; there’s no need to apologize," I assure her. "It’s natural to get defensive over items in your hoard."

"My hoard?" she asks incredulously. Then, softly. "Oh. Fuck."

I nod at her.

"Are things starting to make a bit more sense?"

"…Getting there," Selin says, demurely. "There’s still a lot I don’t understand."

"Well, we have all the time in the world to get to remedy that," I assure her. "And as it turns out, all the time is the world is going to be a lot longer for you than either of us thought."

"Aaaa, this is going to be so much fun!" Ember squeaks, and I can’t help but agree with her. Even Selin lets a hint of anticipation show through on her face, which makes my smile grow even wider.

Goodness, I love being a teacher.

#short story #fiction #dragons #therian #dragon tf #this is just a oneshot #but the girls are begging me to write more

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midnightcrw · 1 year ago

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TF141 looking at a picture of Daisy's (Simon's daughter) boyfriend who cheated on her.

"Now, what in the world is this?" Gaz, looking absolutely disgusted, held Daisy's phone as if it were a biohazard.

Daisy, still shedding tears (albeit fewer), occasionally let a tear escape down her face. Her boyfriend's cheating had Simon fuming, and he wasted no time gathering the TF141 for an emergency roast session in the living room.

"I might need to close an eye... nope, it somehow got even worse," Soap commented, genuinely repulsed by Daisy's unfortunate choice in a significant other.

"This is just atrocious," Price muttered under his breath, shaking his head in profound disappointment.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the room exploded with comments.

"Daisy, did Simon drop you on your head when you were a baby? I thought you had better taste," Gaz quipped.

"You're crying over that?!" Soap exclaimed, with Simon adding, "That's what I said!"

"He looks like a sewer rat," Price remarked, snatching the phone from Gaz for a closer inspection of the boyfriend's face.

"He looks like he snuck onto Earth," Gaz chimed in, while Soap one-upped him with, "He gaslit his way here."

Then Simon, unable to contain himself, declared, "He probably blackmailed his way onto earth." Laughter erupted, and even Daisy managed a slight smile.

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i-starcreamed · 6 months ago

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Okay here's a oneshot idea: Tf One Darkwing x Female Cybertronian Miner Reader. He tries to do his usual angry act with her but she thinks he's cute when he's angry. Flustered Darkwing time maybe? IDK i feel like im the only one who thinks he's kinda cute and silly lmao

DARKWING X READER

Oh my god thank you anon, you’re definitely not the only one who thinks so…I love him. He’s such a bully but I love him I think. Sorry this is short, I def have to write more for him :3 ps there's like no HD pics of him

cybertronian!reader no spoilers, fake scenario. loser flustered Darkwing

“MINER Y/N. Reports say you’ve been slacking off for the past three days again…WHY?!”

Darkwing bellowed, squaring his massive beautiful frame to tower over you. Not that he needed to—he was already bigger than any miner bot around. Way to rub it in.

This was the second time you’d been called in for a little chat with him this month, and by the way, he called you out by the full name in front of everyone else. Who does that? Despite being slightly annoyed, you had a smug smile plastered on your faceplate.

You casually leaned against the wall behind you, shrugging lazily. “Dunno. I don’t really feel like mining,” You deadpanned.

You weren’t lying, your frame has been extra sore for weeks. Honestly, a break sounded great right about now.

Darkwing let out that little, irritated growl he always did when bots got under his plating. His servos clenched in the air, digits flexing as if he was physically holding back his frustration. If he could, he looked like he could rip out his own helm. He stomped closer, jabbing a metal digit in your face.

"WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?! GO. GET BACK TO W-"

"Hey Darkwing," You interrupted smoothly, not budging an inch as you looked up at him with a playful grin.

"You know, you're a bit cute when you're mad at me like this."

Darkwing froze mid-rant, lowering his servos. "What?" He sputtered, reeling his helm back in confusion.

That tough facade of his? CRUMBLING before your very optics.

"I'm not..IM NOT CUTE!"

His voice hitched, his fists dropping to his sides, clenched tight as he glared through his visor. Your grin only grew.

"SOMETHING IS CLEARLY WRONG WITH YOU!"

You rolled your optics.

"Yeah, yeah. Something’s definitely wrong with me if I think you are adorable. You could help me out, though. Maybe working overtime with you would fix my… problem." You slyly added, holding your servo to him.

He took a step back, grumbling under his breath. If his fists curled into themselves even tighter, he might leave an indent in his own servo.

"Stop that...uh, GET BACK TO WORK!"

"Whatever you say, boss."

#transformers x reader #cybertronian reader #transformers one #tf one #tf ond x reader #tfo x reader #darkwing x reader #tfo darkwing #darkwing tf one #transformers darkwing #oneshot #silly

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seoemi · 15 days ago

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Simon Riley x f!reader

Being abused and used all his life, Simon Riley had become a truly coldhearted man.

The man he is, or the man he used to be, is hidden behind a mask, a human skull mask, and a good old military uniform.

The men he once swore would never come back especially after everything that happened to him, from the abuse in his household to the months long imprisonment in the enemy trenches.

Therefore, it is not hard to guess that he doesn't believe in love. Not even a little bit. Not one part of him believes that a man as rough and rugged as him could ever find a person that is capable of looking at him, let alone loving him, without his mask on.

But contrary to his beliefs, the man's life has been interrupted.

It has been interrupted by divine beauty, an angel sent from heaven. And he can't seem to figure out if you were sent to spite him or to maybe, just maybe, love him?

How could a creature so divine just waltz its way into his life?

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kingkat12 · 3 months ago

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neurons (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of sex, foul language, author knows nothing about neurons lol

summary: Roman Godfrey is most certainly not the best study partner to have the night before an important test. what a shocker (not).

word count: 1,106

a/n: kingkat is BACK!! exams are fucking killing me, so when that is over, you best believe I will be back to my usual uploading schedule!! however, I scrapped this together for y'all (and also for myself because pls I need a Roman to get me through this study period). also, WARNING, I don't know anything about chemistry and neurons, I just had to think about anything other than my test rn which is in 6 hours... ENJOY<33 (also the gif is from @godfreysteel if I remember correctly, pls kick my ass if I'm wrong ouf)

"A neuron is an excitable cell that fires electric signals called action potentials across a neural network in the nervous system. They are located in the brain and..." Roman peeked up from the chemistry book with a rather offended look streaking across his face; "You're not listening to me, are you?"

Realizing I was being spoken to, I raised my head from the bed, flaunting a nervous smile. Honestly, I had nearly dozed off. "I am, I am! I swear, I was just!--"

"Listening with your eyes closed?"

Fuck. With a groan, I buried my face in the duvet I was lying on. "Look, Ro, I really appreciate your help, but I'm not going to learn this the night before the test... We should just give up,"

I knew that Roman Godfrey wasn't known for being the best at school-- however, he was the only person in my contacts who was available at midnight, and I was having the biggest case of brain fog known to man. Nothing was sticking. Seven hours and forty-six minutes until I was supposed to be seated in the auditorium at school, taking the dreaded midterm exam in chemistry, this was my only option. This test was supposed to be notoriously hard, so of course I hadn't bothered looking at it before now. Of course.

Huffing, Roman spun around in my chair, looking both bored and frustrated. "I'm so glad I took this test last year," he muttered, just like every other senior did when this test had been mentioned over the past few weeks. "I'm aware that I can't help you with much, 'cause you didn't exactly call the designated nerd or something. But now that you've dragged my ass all across town to not sleep with me, you could at least listen?" He moved the chair closer to the bed, leaning over to poke my head. "Think of it like you're listening to an audio book, okay? My voice is nice, after all. Deep and warm, like--"

"Honey?" I chimed in, raising myself to look at him.

Roman blinked. He looked at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world before he plainly answered; "No. Pussy,"

That was it. Having my fuck-friend teach me chemistry certainly didn't make me the brightest girl in the state. This was a bad idea; I groaned, rolling my eyes as I shifted on the bed, sitting up. "Keep going, then," I said, doing my best not to yawn. "A neuron is an... excited cell?"

Smirking, Roman shook his head-- I wondered whether this made him feel smart. He had taken this test last year and passed it, after all. It wasn't looking like I would be passing it, so did that make Roman Godfrey smarter than me...?

That was a mortifying thought.

"The neuron is an excitable cell, whatever the fuck that means," Roman pointed to the paragraph in the book. "Let me continue, maybe it'll make sense to you if I keep going?" He kicked back in the chair again, leaning his legs on my bed before he lowered his voice, getting into a rather caricatured character of a narrator; "They are located in the brain and spinal cord and help to receive and conduct impulses. Neurons communicate with other cells via synapses, which are specialized connections that commonly use minute amounts of chemical--"

I yawned. Loudly. I couldn't take it anymore.

Roman's eyes shot up from the book, wider than ever. I held my breath, ready to be told off once more for not focusing properly, yet the next words that left his lips were ones of charming amusement; "I see that this isn't making you very... excitable,"

I let out a relieved sigh. "I give up. Could we just fuck instead? That thought makes me excitable,"

Slamming the book shut, Roman grinned. "You never disappoint," he murmured. Getting up from the chair, he motioned for me to lay down again; he didn't waste any time making his way between my legs, pressing soft kisses to my thighs. His words were interrupted with every kiss; "If you don't pass the test-- I'll pay someone to-- tweak your scores. Don't-- worry about it."

My breath hitched as I smiled up at the ceiling. "Why didn't you say that-- fuck, earlier?" I squirmed beneath Roman as he pushed the soft pillows of his lips to my clothed sex, humming. Every kiss, every touch, felt electrocuting; I wondered whether the neurons in my body had anything to do with these bodily reactions. Did they? I had no idea, and I realized I wasn't going to know at the end of the night either.

"Because," Roman said, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he kissed his way up my body, listening to my nervous giggles of pleasure. "I like feeling-- helpful. No one has ever-- asked me to--" His kisses were getting wetter, more eager; "--revise anything-- with them."

My hands went to his hair, tugging at the tips of his soft, brown locks. "Makes sense," Of course. Who in their right mind would call Roman Godfrey to help them practice for a test? I knew that the only thing on his mind was pussy and... pussy. Along with all the other things about the female body that made him excitable, certainly.

Roman pressed teasing kisses to my neck, wrapping his arms around my tired body. "Are you gonna call me the next time you have a test?" he purred.

"Um... Depends,"

"On what?"

"On whether I'm planning on taking it seriously," I gave Roman's hair another tug, hoping he'd kiss me properly soon. "If it's a life or death thing, you're probably not gonna get involved. However, if it's another chemistry test..."

Hovering above me now, Roman nudged my nose with his as he smiled against my lips. "I see where you're going with this, I'll take it. But let me redeem myself, okay?"

"Uh... how?" An impossible task.

"I'll teach you the one thing I actually remember," he breathed. Judging by how quickly his smile turned into a smirk, I could almost foresee the next thing coming from his mouth; "The neurons are connected to the nervous system, so they're responsible for making you feel this."

Roman's lips pressed against mine for the briefest moment-- it was so gentle, so tentative, that for a second, I thought I had simply imagined it. This wasn't usually how he kissed me. This was different. This was gentle, sincere. My breath felt stuck in my chest as my fist in his hair faltered, feeling as though my body was on fire.

Fucking neurons, giving me hope that I could both pass the test and have Roman Godfrey for myself.

(thank u to Wikipedia LMAOOO I would go on and refer to the article like I've been taught but I'm SALTY so no<3 mwah)

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achilles-rage · 7 months ago

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thinking about older neighbour!john price hearing you knock on his door one october night, just barely audible over the sound of heavy rain hitting his roof and windows, and the thunder and lightning in the distance.

MDNI 18+ Only!

he ushers you inside quickly, seeing that you're already slightly damp from walking across your lawn and to his front door. he notices you shivering, a blanket thrown around your shoulders, and puts an arm around you as he leads you to sit on a stool in his kitchen while he makes you some tea.

"i’m sorry. the power's been out all day, and my house is freezing. i saw your lights still on, and i just thought-" you begin to say apologetically, but he cuts you off with a tut, shaking his head.

"don't apologize. you're always welcome here. you can stay the night, if you want. the generator's still got a ton of juice." he tells you gruffly, sliding your mug across the counter and leaning across from you, his elbows propping himself up. you thank him softly as you pick up the tea, letting it warm up your hands, but not taking a sip yet.

"you're freezing. why don't we go sit on the couch? i've got the fireplace going, it'll warm you up in no time." you nod, smiling softly as you stand up. he smiles when you immediately turn and walk to his living room. he loves how comfortable you are in his space.

he thinks he won the jackpot when he moved in next door to you, this soft, sweet thing that was quick to introduce herself and bring him a fresh batch of cookies as a welcome to the neighbourhood.

pretty soon, after he insisted that there was no reason for you to pay someone else, you began asking him for help with things around your house. and in return, you brought him sweets. but, he always thought the best reward was seeing you plush tummy hidden by the fabric of your clothes, or a sliver of your thighs when you wore short dresses, or when you would wear lower cut shirts that gave him the perfect view of your soft tits.

you take a seat on the couch, immediately crossing your legs and wrapping the blanket tighter around you. he stands in front of you and holds out his hands, gesturing to the blanket. you raise your brow, giving him a confused look. he gently tugs it off of you, and silently makes his way to his laundry room, putting your blanket in the dryer, before coming back. he grabs you a different blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over your shoulders, muttering a soft "that's better" before he sits down beside you.

you talk to him in a quiet voice for a while, the only other sounds being the harsh sound of rain hitting his house, and the soft crackle of the fire burning in his fireplace. he tries so hard to be good, to keep his eyes on your face rather than trailing down your body. even though you’re covered by a blanket, it doesn’t stop him from imagining how you’d look under him, how you’d feel when he stretched you out around him, how you’d feel coming on his cock.

he suddenly gets an idea, and stands up, telling you he’s going to make some more tea. you try to protest, but he doesn’t want to hear a peep. you still look so cold, he lies, and he wants to make sure you don’t catch a cold. isn’t that sweet?

rather than going to the kitchen, however, he goes to check on his generator. he shuts it off quickly, grinning as he’s enveloped in darkness. he makes his way back to the living room with a battery powered lantern just in time to hear your sweet little voice call for him. you’re such a soft little thing, and if everything goes according to plan, you’ll be bouncing on his lap by the end of the night.

“it’s okay, sweetheart. i’m here. generator must’ve run outta gas. we can get closer to the fire if you want, it’ll keep us plenty warn.” he tells you in a smooth voice, grinning when he sees you look over at the fire and nod slowly.

he clears his throat as he moves to sit in front of the fire, leaning back against the couch. he pats the spot beside him, urging you to come sit with him.

once you’re beside him, you offer some of your blanket to him. he’s not cold. not at all. but what kind of man would he be to turn down such an inviting offer? it’s almost as if that gesture proves to him that you want him too, that although you came to his house in search of warmth, you were looking for him to warm you up, not his heater.

he’s sure that’s what sparked his newfound confidence, and soon enough, your clothes are discarded on the carpet beside you, and his cock is slowly stretching out your dripping hole.

“that’s it, sweetheart. let me hear you.” he growls quietly, eyes trained on your face contorted in pleasure. you whimper softly, moving yourself on his cock in a way that makes you see stars. while one of his hands helps guide you up and down on his thick cock, the other circles your puffy clit. he wants more than anything to watch you come apart for him, and right now, he’s holding back from coming too early.

he smirks when he hears the loud mewl escape your lips and you start to move in uneven bounces, shuddering on top of him. he moves his fingers in circles around your clit even faster, groaning at the sight of you tilting your head back in ecstasy.

“you gonna cum for me, sweetheart? you wanna cum on my cock?” he asks you roughly. he can feel himself twitching inside of you, and he knows he’s close, he just hopes you’re as close as he is. you nod your head vigorously, and the only sound you’re able to make is a high pitched whine, although he’s sure he can hear “please, john” between your incoherent babbling.

“cum for me, baby. let go for me.” he whispers, and after a few more seconds, something inside you snaps. your body goes rigid as you feel yourself coming on him, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you throw your head back. this sight is all it takes for him to let go as well. he cums with a loud grunt, followed by a moan as he feels himself filling you to the brim.

you bite your lip hard when you feel his seed against your velvety walls, and you slow your hips to a stop as you try to catch your breath, his cock still buried to the hilt.

the rest of the night consists of him pulling you into his arms and refusing to let you go. you lay on the carpet in front of the fire, being lulled to sleep by his steady breathing on your neck, and you’re sure john price will never be “just your neighbour” ever again.

likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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bummblebe · 2 months ago

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"You look pretty.."

Bumblebee x Reader

Word count: 613

Summary: A short Bumblebee oneshot inspired by the audio from Hot Rod (2007).

Song choice <3

> Brazil - Declan McKenna

Light pollution from the city no longer felt like an obstruction when you stood in your silent neighborhood, now in front of your garage; you were glad to see the stars at their full potential, lighting up the sky one-by-one in full view. You were dropped off at your place by none other than Bumblebee, always spending the last few minutes of the day spent together either gazing at the stars or having late-night talks; it's become routine at this point. A few moments to unwind in comfortable silence has always been a highlight, the two of you just enjoying each other's presence even while there are no words exchanged.

Tonight, you thought this to be another wordless soon-to-be goodbye.

Your eyes stayed fixated on the countless stars, your irises shifting ever so slightly to every new one you found, it really did feel endless.

Bumblebee's optics stayed fixated on you, the same fascination.

Some of the stars looked to be a lot rounder than a few others, a lot more noticeable than the typical shapeless glimmer. Your mind wandered, maybe it was a planet you had the privilege of being able to see with your naked eye. It doesn't make any of the surrounding stars any less special--no--it's just appreciation for a different kind of beauty. Alternatively, you remember reading somewhere that the stars you see in the sky in the present are actually impressions of what they looked like thousands of years ago, and that those stars probably don't exist anymore. It's strangely beautiful to catch a glimpse of a sight of 10,000 years ago, even if its bittersweet to know that these stars truly are gone now. You wondered, almost laughing to yourself, at the thought of if the autobots began their journey to Earth in the 9th millennium BC and only landed now in the 21st century.

Bumblebee stayed fascinated, not at the stars as he's done on other nights, but on you. Your eyes slightly widened in wonder, shifting in constant activity as you take in as much as you can of the night sky. He looked upon you in silent admiration, optics softening in a pale-blue glow. Really, he was doing the same thing you were doing, only he was appreciating his own different kind of beauty.

Bee couldn't help it.

"..Krrsh.. -- You look pretty.."

You snapped out of your stargazing, turning to face the mech, clueless. "Sorry, what was that?"

Bee gave a surprised whir and scrambled back to his full height, alarmed at his radio unintentionally exposing him outright. He bumped the lower plating on his chassis over and over with a fist to get himself to shut it.

Unfortunately, even with every hit he gave to his chest, his radio kept going.

"Zrt! -- Uhh-" Hit.

"-- I said-" Hit hit.

"-- You look shitty! -- Kzrt!" He winced.

Bee backed away quick, panicked whirs and mechanical trills filling the air. "Goodnight, Denise!" He gave a swift two-finger salute and bailed, quickly transforming back into the Camaro and speeding away, tires screeching as he did.

You stood there, completely stunned; the only thing you could hear were the night crickets and Bee's roaring engine, gradually getting quieter the farther he drove away.

The smile that crept up to your face couldn't be helped. You shook your head to yourself, heading inside to your house as the smile never went away.

You may have not heard the first thing he said in the moment, but you sure did recognize the sound-bite the longer he kept talking.

Bumblebee really did call you pretty.

The electric jump you felt in your stomach couldn't be helped.

#bumblebee #transformers #transformers bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #transformers rotb #rotb bumblebee #oneshot #tf x reader #transformers x reader #transformers x human #x reader

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eyelambspider · 6 months ago

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𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧! — 𝐂𝐎𝐃/𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

Day 18 can you believe it? Here is a list of my prompts & event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : gn!doctor!reader x doctor!gaz, security!price + horangi, psychotic!soap + könig + ghost 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : you and a group of mount massive personnel have holed up in the security room as chaos erupts around the building. Then, your beloved patients find you, they decide its better that they keep you 'safe' instead. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.3 k 𝐚/𝐧 : i based this on my fking favorite game series outlast so-! 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : blood/gore/death, swearing, yandere/possessive traits

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃. The sirens had blared for over an hour, each smashed to pieces by howling patients or they had simply died out...

No one was coming. No one should have been coming.

You and Doctor Garrick stared in pale horror at the panel of security cameras.

Every screen was filled with scenes straight out of a horror movie. In the halls, doctors in white coats tripped over themselves fleeing in terror as patients roared in fear, smashing in the skulls of the people who had hurt them. The common rooms were filled with more docile patients, the television screen tuned to nothing but static. A few patients wheezed in pain, bandages covering their disfigured faces, while others cried quietly into themselves, simply staring off into the static. All sitting together motionlessly, seemingly immune to the horrors now ravaging Mount Massive Asylum.

The sight was enough to make you heave and turn away. Dr. Garrick quickly caught you, rubbing your back in a soothing manner as Price and Horangi stepped up to the monitors. "Fucking hell," the brit muttered, his blue eyes roving over the screens with a grimace.

With the two officers busy, you turned your head towards Gaz, eyes wide with terror, trying so hard not to tremble under his touch. "They won't send anyone! Gaz!" you whispered frantically, trying not to draw the attention of the two security guards who had pulled you two into the safety of the locked security room.

No one knew except the doctors.

The Murkoff Corporation, the company that employed everyone here had been conducting unethical experiments on the patients here... They would never allow a leak this substantial to ever get out to the public.

You and Gaz both knew it too. They wouldn't send anyone but an army of men to 'clean' up this mess.

Another wave of nausea hit you at the thought.

"Shhh, I know, I know," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder towards the two security officers, making sure they didn't overhear.

Both were equipped to handle patients, guns in their belts, the same blue shirt, black pants, badge and hat...

What would they do when they found out the truth? Would they throw the two of you out if they found out you both had no power over what happened next? Had no idea what to fucking do in this situation?

All you and Gaz knew, was that wearing a white doctors coat right now, was a death sentence.

As far as irrational thought went, it felt like the only person you could truly trust right now was the man rubbing your back.

"So what's the plan?" Price interrupted, making both you and Gaz nearly jump.

From the horrified looks on both your faces, the security officer's both got an inkling of the reality of the situation.

"We... We-we could," Gaz stumbled, trying to blurt out anything that came to mind before Price got up in his face, angry like the you had both suspected.

"You know what's happening outside those doors?!" Price's voice boomed, grabbing ahold of Gaz's collar to bring him up to his face. Although you tried to stop it, Price was strong, and forced Gaz's face to the monitors. "Those fucking lunatics will kill all of us if we don't get the fuck out of here-!"

"Wait!" You yelped, trying to calm the already deteriorating situation. "We have clearance to all floors! There's got to be a way out!" You reasoned, digging through your coat pocket to retrieve your keycard and hold it up for him to see.

Everyone seemed to stop for a moment, the tension buzzing like electricity before Horangi placed a firm hand on Price's shoulder, silently urging him to drop the doctor. "The front doors down the hall are locked," he started, the black face mask he always wore muffling his voice some.

Price finally let go of Gaz, and you protectively helped him straighten out, a nervous look on both of your faces.

"Before we got the two of you in here, there was a man in the halls," Horangi recalled eerily, taking his hand off Price to hold the straps of his belt instead. "Big fucking guy, had no nose," he muttered, "We can't go through the front doors with him there."

The front doors were on this floor, only a few halls away... but who knows what had happened in the past hour to stop the exit from being so... clear.

"That's Chris," you whispered, immediately recognizing the description of the man Price and Horangi had seen.

Chris Walker, a violent man, standing at six foot nine... He wasn't your patient, but he was infamous among the doctors here... And now, he was standing between you and potentially getting out of this hellhole.

What the hell were you all going to do?

You took a minute to think, covering your mouth in shock while the three men stood quietly, each considering that look on your face.

It looked like a plan was forming in that sharp mind of yours, and none wanted to interrupt it. Holding their breaths for what they hoped was a miracle.

"Keys," you muttered to yourself, blankly staring at the screens in front of your face whilst you held subconsciously onto Gaz's shoulder.

"They took the keys," Price tried to explain, remembering the crushed body of the guard who was supposed to have them.

"No, they always have spares," you nodded to yourself, the flimsy idea stitching itself together more coherently in your mind.

As you spiraled further into thought, more screams and violence took place outside on the screens. Each eye watching as crude traps went up, bookshelves fell over in the halls, windows broke as men pounded their bloodied hands against it...

"They always have spare keys in the subbasement," you huffed breathlessly, feeling your blood run cold at the idea.

That's where Walrider had broken out. Where this whole asylum riot had started, and now the four of you, or at least one of you had to go down there with the very keycard you held tightly in your hand.

Gaz whispered your name almost inaudibly, hand slowly slithering around your waist and pulling you behind him.

Slowly, you followed his eyes and felt cold horror run through your veins.

"Hey Doc."

"Maus."

"It's you."

There, at the bulletproof window of the security office, stood three of your patients, each doused in blood splatters and maniac grins.

John "Soap" MacTavish. His blue eyes wide with madness glared at you, standing so close to the window that his breath fogged up the glass. "Doc, I could really use your help out here..." he grinned, tapping on the window before he quickly got more infuriated by the barrier. "Open up this fucking door you bitch!" he roared, smashing his fists onto the window until a bloodied puddle had formed... and he wouldn't fucking stop.

König stood behind him, his usual black hood, the one he always felt more safe under was dripping with gore onto his bare chest. The giant of a man tilted his head acutely, his icy blue eyes flickering from your face with a softness, before they turned hard and cold when he realized there were others in the room with you. The tension apparent in the way his fists suddenly balled up into a white knuckle grip.

And Mr. Simon "Ghost" Riley stood closest to the edge of the window, watching curiously as Soap spit a mix of soft pleas for you to come out, to vulgar swears and threats if you didn't. An idea was forming in his head. Those dark orbs of his now considering the door that separated you from him. He would find a way in, or through.

To their deranged minds, their beloved doctor needed their help.

And the men in the room with you needed you alive to get out of this damned asylum.

p.s. is cross over the right word for this? what'd you think of this guys? lmk! because i honestly loved writing this!

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celestialprincesse · 6 months ago

Note

Hiii! This is my first time doing this so I hope I'm doing it right 😅. Anyways could I ask for fluff Soap with the head-canon that he brings you weird souvenirs from his deployments ex: stones, flowers or a jar of dirt

Hello! Sorry I've been off the grid I swear I'm still lurking! Anywhoo! pls feel free to send in fluff reqs (and distract me from studying for my language exam) (please)

🧼🫧🧽🛁

With Johnny having just returned from a two month long deployment somewhere in Eastern Europe, the pair of you are practically attached at the hip, making up for lost time. With that in mind, as your boyfriend unpacks his cases, haphazardly throwing his laundry in the general direction of the hamper, his clean stuff in a pile to be hung up in the closet, you sit in your shared bed, scrolling absently through your phone.

"Got ye this." He pipes up, unfortunately a little late as you're smacked in the stomach by a shopping bag full of miscellaneous crap.

"Ow, Johnny!"

Despite being a little winded, you're quick to abandon your phone and eagerly sit up in bed, emptying the contents of the bag out before you. Some items immediately jump out at you, recognising little city magnets from trashy tourist shops - one of you and Johnny's little habits, collecting a magnet, shot glass or postcard as a memento from every city you visit.

The bag contains other things too, stuff you wouldn't find in a tourist trap on every city corner. A little pebble black pebble worn by tides and time. "From the river Danube, tha." He points out, eliciting a warm smile from you at his sheer pride alone.

Continuing your search, you find a little ballet slipper charm, the sole stating its provenance as the Bolshoi theatre. It almost makes you well up a little at the fact that even in the midst of such a long and rigorous deployment, Johnny still went out of his way to think of you and the things you'd like.

The thing that makes your stomach plummet the most, though, is the little black velvet box in the bottom of the bag, and Johnny's sly smile when you look up at him like a deer in headlights.

"Price and I had a long chat one night." He starts, sitting on the bed before you, an earnest glimmer lighting up his blue gaze. "About the people ye love, and holding 'em close - makin' sure they know ye love them before ye've no longer the chance. An' I love ye - the only thing I'd love more is to be able to call you my wife, if you'll have me."

🧼🫧🧽🛁

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voiths · 6 months ago

Text

☾ "Be a good girl and use your words" ~ Price x reader☽

Pairing: Captain Price (also the other ops kinda)x female!reader

Warnings: Nsfw Content

Word Count: 1320

Summary: This is connected to the series on tumblr "On the run" by @devil-in-hiding but can be read without knowing the series. Reader is pent up with the fleeting touches of the team members and price is there to help but being a teasing cunt while doing so.

Note: Be gentle this is the first written out nsfw oneshot i have written.

It's been around a month now since they "broke in" and showed up on your doorstep and it's safe to say they're starting to affect you.

The way ghost stares at your body whenever you work around the house.

The constant praises coming from Gaz whenever you do something for him.

The flirty jokes stringing out of Soap's mouth at every chance he gets.

But the thing that's been affecting you the most is their touches.

One of the first nights they were here the 5 of you sat in the living room watching an old rom con that you convinced(forced) them to watch. You were lying on the couch with your head in Gazs' lap and with your thighs over Simons'. Halfway through the movie you felt Gaz's hands slowly running through your hair absentmindedly.

You slowly realised just how touchstarved all the years by yourself on the farm made you. Breathing evening out and eyes slowly closing as you felt yourself slowly falling asleep only to be awoken by a hand softly falling on your thigh. Looking towards Ghost you saw no change in his behaviour, he was still looking towards the screen that lightly lit up the room. Trying your best to keep your breathing steady you felt his hand slowly go up on your upper thigh.

On one hand you wanted to stop his hand, embarrassed of the sounds you're trying your best to hold back. What would the others do if they saw?

But on the other hand your skin felt like it was burning up were Ghosts rough scarred hand met your soft thighs. You cursed yourself for only wearing shorts for the movie. The movie has been gone from your mind for some time now, mind only focused of the feeling of simons hand on hour thigh, sometimes gripping it whenever something exciting happened in the movie.

So focused on Ghost's and Gaz's touch you didnt even realise that they started look at you, seeing you lightly squirming, trying your best to stay still and make no noise. Everyone understood to keep quiet, not interrupt whatever was going on.

They only stopped once the movie was over, Simon immediately having to leave to go to the toilet and shower. He definitely had to take care of himself after that.

The others asked if you were okay, worrying about how red you were even though they all knew the reason.

Situations like this only became more frequent afterwards and your need and want for them only grew bigger the more they touched you. But asking them directly for it? No you could never. You held your pride too high for that.

But oh when one night it was just you and price, sitting on a bench on the front porch looking into the dark fields and forests in front of you. Sitting on his lap with one of his arms wrapped around your waist and the other running over your inner thigh you felt the wetness grow between your legs.

You both have been like that for at least half an hour now constantly teasing each other. Not even using words. Just you squirming on his lap "accidentally" pressing down and feeling the bulge in his pants grow.

Him running his fingers over your thigh, sometimes squeezing and every now and then getting a little higher on your skin.

But you needed him higher. You needed him closer. Needed to feel his touch more and more.

Quiet whimpers started to slip through, desperate for more. Moving around more in his lap trying more and more desperately each time to get his fingers closer to where you needed him the most.

You were so distracted you couldn't even hear him chuckle at your actions. After letting you struggle for a few more minutes he finally moves his mouth next to your ear.

"Cmon my love say what u need. Be a good girl and use ur words."

Whimpers slipping through at hearing Price's words you let your words break the silence of the quiet night.

"Touch me."

"Not good enough darling i need a bit more."

If looks could kill Price would be dead by now seeing ur death glare directed towards him. But how could he be scared by your anger when you're still pathetically squirming in his lap and whimpering like a mutt in heat.

"Please Sir touch me."

"Atta Girl."

Finally you felt his fingers teasingly move closer to your heat, moving your underwear to the side for more access you let out a whimper of relief feeling his fingers move between your folds.

You didn't even notice his other hand moving your legs apart, letting them fall on side of his legs making sure that you couldn't close yours anymore.

In a teasingly slow pace he drew circles over your clit not daring to get you close to release any time soon. As a desperate action to make him go faster you reached your own hand down but as you were about to grab his arm his other hand grabbed ur arm and pinned it to your back together with your other arm.

"Tell me if ya want me to stop or slow down but don't you dare try and pleasure yourself or try and make me go faster. I don't wanna have to punish such a good innocent little girl like you."

"No no please sir please continue i'll be good."

Chuckling at your words his hand released and moved down to your heat as well.

While one of his hands was speeding up making circles on your clit his other hand moves closer to your tight hole. Even with the fluids your body was producing his finger was struggling to get inside. When you felt the first finger going knuckle deep small moans could be heard.

"Be quiet my love or you'll wake up the others and you don't want them to see you all exposed squirming on my fingers do you."

Moans turned into quiet whimpers as you struggled to keep quiet but as soon as the second finger entered you more moans spilled from your lips.

He kept you there for what felt like an hour teasing you and bringing you so close to release but as soon as he felt you starting to shake and tighten on his fingers he stopped and took it away from you.

You were a moaning whimpering mess for him and he loved it. Loved having you shaking and squirming for him.

"Please Price i need it."

"What do you need love, tell me and address me properly."

"Please Sir make me cum."

"Good girl."

Suddenly the fingers on your clit sped up the circles it was drawing on it and those fingers inside of you curled and pressed so nicely against that spot inside of you.

"Cum for me darling."

All it took was those words and you started shaking and quivering in his lap. Eyes rolling to the back of your head while your back is arching against his chest. Price was whispering words into your ear but in your high you could only assume it was teasing words or more praise.

After letting you come down from your high and having you lean against his chest you let out a yelp of surprise when you felt him stand up. Moving you so he could pick you up bridal style he opened the door with his elbow and stepped inside.

He knew it was late at night but unfortunately that doesn't mean that everyone was asleep in the house but fortunately he managed to carry you up the stairs and into your room without anyone seeing you two.

Laying you down on your bed he handed you a bottle of water that you left on your nightstand.

"Okay little lady do you want me to stay here with you?"

#cod smut #cod x reader #captain price smut #captain price x reader #cod oneshot #call of duty x reader #call of duty captain price #captain price #call of duty smut #tf 141 smut #tf 141 x reader

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littlefanficprincess · 24 days ago

Text

Stop the wedding!

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

D-16 x Fem cybertronian reader

Word count: 5.3k

Song: This Day Aria (Cover by jSyndeo Music)

Synopsis: You're a simple miner bot forced to get married to the Sentinel Prime, so D-16 decides to crash the wedding and get his girl.

(A/n): It is a cheesy premise, which makes it good (holy moly this became way longer than I expected.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

“All right, all clear” D-16 mentions. He stands in the metro, leaning against the cart full of drills and other metal objects.

Orion pops out of the cart, catching the drill he almost knocked out of the cart. “Okay, D-16, I may be a little rusty, but “corroded”? That is too far” He says, referring to what his friend called him when talking to the two guards that were chasing the blue bot.

“Let me guess. Chased out of the archives?” D-16 questions, brushing off Orion’s response. He was already all too familiar with Orion’s routine of breaking the rules.

“Yeah. I had to jump out of a window this time. Almost died” Orion laughs, climbing out of the cart. “It was wild”

“And digging through ancient data is worth dying for?”

“Yes, it is”

“I need a new best friend” D-16 rolls his eyes, unamused.

Orion tells how he wanted to help Sentinel Prime find the Matrix of Leadership, his realist friend proceeded to call him delusional. The conversation switches over their lack of cogs.

“Hey, if we did have cogs…” Orion trails off.

“I’d transform into a shovel and beat you” D-16 jokes, answering quite quickly.

“That’s one way to talk to your friend” A sweet voice chimes from behind Orion. The two mechs turn to see who it was. Standing there was (Y/n), a smile on her face. “Hi guys!”

D-16 tenses up as his vents pick up speed. “Oh (Y/n), didn’t notice you there” He says, awkwardly. It was a sudden change from the cocky demeanor he had a second ago.

“Yeah, I know I’m not very eye-catching” The (f/c) femme bot chuckles, placing a servo on the back of her helm.

In his mind, D-16 argued that she was anything but that. Probably the most beautiful miner, the prettiest cybertronian in Iacon. A diamond in the rough, as they say.

Trailing her (e/c) optics trial down, noticing something shiny in Orion’s servo. She leans slightly down, eyeing the unknown object. “What do you have there?” She questions, raising an optical ridge.

Orion raises his hand, showing what it was. A shiny decal of Megatronus’ face. “Just a mint-condition Megatronus Prime decal, first edition. But he probably doesn't want it, so if you want it…” He holds it out for her to grab.

“Wait, hold on. Let me see” D-16 slightly panics, while also feeling excited. He reaches for the decal, but Orion pulls his arm back out of reach.

“Wait. Don’t grab. You’re gonna crease it” Orion grins. He places it carefully onto the other miner’s shoulder plate, smoothing it out.

D-16 looks at it with amazement, tracing over it with his middle and index digit. “You know, Sentinel says Megatronus was the…”

“The strongest Prime to ever live” (Y/n) and Orion say in unison, knowing the saying like the back of their servo’s. The two share a chuckle at how they knew him so well.

“It fits you” (Y/n) compliments, looking at the decal before turning her gaze up to his face. It makes D-16 feel flustered, he slightly turns away. He mutters a “Thank you”, just loud enough to be heard.

Turning to the smaller bot, Orion asks her “What have you been up to, I haven’t seen you for a good bit”.

“Sorry about that” (Y/n) apologizes, grinning sheepishly. “I was getting my metal clean, it was covered in dust. Then I ran right into Spark Hope and everything went downhill from there” She explains, remembering all the chaos.

The metro comes to a stop, its doors opening. D-16 pushes the cart out, placing it next to other carts filled with equipment. The three friends were following behind the other miners, when they were stopped by a guard.

Their first assumption was that he was there for Orion, the mentioned bot getting nervous. But to their surprise, he turns to the (f/c) femme next to him. “(Y/n)?” He calls out, making sure he has the right cybertronian.

Confused, (Y/n) answered with “Yeah? That’s me”. She wondered what he could want, hoping it was not related to her crash she had not too long ago.

“Sentinel Prime has requested your presence, I am here to escort you” The guard tells her, with a straight posture.

Looking back at her friends, who looked just as surprised of her, (Y/n) shrugs her shoulders. “I guess I'll see you guys later” She says, before following the guard to Sentinel’s palace.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

(Y/n) could only stare anxiously at the ground as she walks behind the guard, fiddling with her own digits. THE Sentinel Prime knew she existed and wanted to see her, for who knows what. The guard leads her inside the palace, its walls were made of gold and bronze, matching that of Sentinel’s armor. She felt so small compared to it all, so insignificant.

She didn’t even notice the guard stopped walking, making her bump into his back. He steps back, spewing out a quick apology. He seems to ignore it and knocks on the big doors in front of him, he clears his throat. “My prime, I have brought the bot you’ve requested for” He announces.

There was a pause, before they heard an answer. “Great, let her in,” Sentinel’s voice chimes from the other side of the door.

The guard nods and opens the doors, motioning for her to enter. Hesitantly, (Y/n) walks in, she flinches as the door is slammed close. She looks up, finding Sentinel looking towards the window with his hands behind his back.

The Prime turns around with a big smile, towering over the poor femme. “Ah, the cybertronian I was looking for. I’m happy I was able to catch you, you’re running all over the place” He chuckles, using some interesting words.

Bowing down, (Y/n) lowers her head. “It’s an honor, My Prime. It truly is” She claims, preferring to not look her in the eye.

“No need to get formal, (Y/n)” Sentinel says, gesturing to her to stand up. She does so, shivering slightly at hearing him say her name. “I called you here for one simple thing” He mentions, a mischievous glint in his bright blue optics.

“What is that, Sentinel Prime?” The (f/c) being slightly tilts her head, the taller bot finding the action charming.

“I want you to be my Conjunx Endura”

His statement makes (Y/n) halt, staring at him with wide optics. “I beg your pardon?” She coughs, making sure she didn’t hear him wrong.

“Even after fifty cycles of ruling Iacon, no femme or mech ever caught my eye. Then I saw you, bumping right into Spark Hope. You are the most beautiful bot I’ve ever seen” Sentinel kneels down, grabbing her chin. “And so, I want to marry you”

So many things were going through (Y/n)’s head. Not only did he notice her, he found her pretty and he was asking her to marry him. It all happened too fast for her to process, she had to think of her next words.

She had no idea that the proposal was shallow, not a trace of love in Sentinel’s motives. He did find her beautiful, there is no denying it. What was better to improve his image than having a Conjunx Endura, the story of that he fell in love with a miner. That he didn't care about her status, only her personality and beauty. Lies, all lies.

It was a huge honor to be asked by a prime to marry them. But yet, (Y/n) can’t help but feel empty. It was like something was holding her back, then her mind flickered to Orion and D-16. She wanted to say no, but she thinks of what would happen if she did.

“I would love to” (Y/n) answers, forcing a smile. She looks up at his menacingly stature. She hoped that he didn't notice her lying through her teeth.

“Great!” Sentinel exclaims, grinning. He didn't notice. Or he did, but didn't seem to care.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

No one saw her that day after that, it was noticed by many. Elita interrogated the idiotic duo, suspecting one of them had to do something with it. But she backed off once they told her a guard took her away for something.

Then cave in happens with Jazz almost getting crushed if it wasn't for Orion and D-16. The reckless action had gotten Elita-1 demoted by Darkwing, the mech brushing her arguments off as she lacked a cog unlike him.

The next day, Orion dragged his friend to the stadium where the Iacon 5000 was held. But instead of going into the main entrance, the blue miner drags the other through a side door. D-16 finds himself and Orion behind orange glass with a clear view of everything that was happening.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The icon of Iacon! The savior of Cybertron! Quintessons fear him, but we love him! Our leader, the one and only… Sentinel Prime!” The announcer proclaims, hyping up the audience.

Flying down and across the crowd was their remaining prime. He almost looked like an angel soaring across the sky. Bots scream his name as he passes by. He lands on a floating platform in the middle of an arena.

“Yes! It feels so good to be here with you all today. My friends. My Cybertronian family. It has been precisely 50 cycles since the Quintessons attacked our home. Fifty cycles since we lost the Matrix of Leadership and our Energon supply dried up. Fifty cycles since the battle that killed the other Primes, my brothers and sisters in arms” He tells the crowd, placing his servo on his chassis.

Behind the racers down below appear holograms of the thirteen fallen primes. “Today we honor the Primes who gave their lives for ours and we show them that the strength of Cybertron will never be diminished” His bright blue optics scan the crowd, stopping at the femme he was looking for.

“Before we start the race, I have one more thing to announce. Not too long ago, I met the most loveliest bot I’ve ever seen. I want you all to meet (Y/n), my soon to be Conjunx Endura” He reaches his hand towards her direction, making those near her look at (f/c) femme.

Three platforms float up as makeshift stairs. Hesitantly, (Y/n) steps on the first platform. She climbs onto the second, before stopping on the third. Right next to Sentinel, their difference in height was very noticeable.

Sentinel prime grabs her hand, smiling warmly. He glances towards the crowd, watching their reactions. (Y/n) looked to the crowd as well, but instead she was looking for her two friends. She was disappointed to see neither of them.

Little did she know that they were behind her, caged by metal and glass. With a conflicted expression on his face, D-16 looks up at the two. He felt his spark crackling, getting heavy in his chassis. He knew Orion was looking at him, but he didn't meet his gaze.

“Racers, on your marks!”

D-16 feels Orion putting something on his back, looking behind he finds his jetpack. “Why’d you bring jetpacks?” He questions.

“It’s time to show them we are more than meets the eye” Orion answers, sounding cocky.

“Oh no”

“And they’re off!” The announcer yells.

The glass in front of them turns green, the floor underneath them opens up. Orion turns on his jetpack and catches D-16 before he hits the ground. They stood out from the big group of racers.

The first to notice them was (Y/n), leaning towards their direction. “It’s them” She gasps, not expecting to find them in the race of all places.

Sentinel notices her moving away from him, making him look over what was happening. He squints his eyes at the two off figures in between the racers. “I’m sorry, are those miners in the race?” He says, confused. He looks at the big screen to get a better view of it.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing here! Miners trying to run in the Iacon 5000!” The announcer exclaimed in surprise. The miners in the crowd cheer, happy to see one of their own racing besides those with cogs.

Glancing back at his future Conjunx Endura, Sentinel finds her looking in awe at the two miners. Most likely that she was familiar with them as she was a miner herself after all. But he cannot help but feel bitter that she was far more interested in them than him.

Even with just their jetpacks, Orion and D-16 had gotten far. Using their wits, they somehow take down Darkwing in the process. They were about to cross the finish line first, but an engine from another player shoots out and hits D-16. Orion drags his friend further, only to be tackled as a racer rides through them and crosses the finish line. To add salt to their wounds, the rest of the racers finish before the two miners could even get up.

(Y/n) moves away, about to get off the floating platform. But she was stopped by Sentinel grabbing her arms, “Where are you going?” He asks in a light tone. But the way he said it, it felt possessive.

“I’m going to check on them, I want to see if they're alright. They’re my friends” (Y/n) explains, ignoring his grip. She also wanted to tell them what happened during the time they didn’t see each other.

The prime couldn't let her out his sight, he can’t let her slip out of his grasp. “Don’t worry, I will check on them for you. I will get a guard to escort you to your room” Sentinel ‘assures’ her, his servo travels from her arm to her shoulder plate.

Finding no point in arguing with him, (Y/n) lowers her head. “I understand, thank you” She says, defeated.

Without even being inside the palace, she felt trapped in Sentinel's presence. She was escorted away by two guards, one of each side of her. Their height hid her from others and hid the world for her.

They left her once she was brought to her room. She sits down next to the window, leaning against the wall. She wondered what Sentinel said to her friends, did they ask about her? She felt so far away from them, like they were in different worlds. She felt so small.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

After that, she was kept in her room like a caged animal. The clock was ticking down until the wedding, Sentinel seemed to be working hard to plan it all. (Y/n) hoped that once the wedding happened, she would have more freedom.

From time to time, she would ask guards on updates of her two friends. The first few times, she was told that they weren’t able to find the two. But after that, they stopped listening to her requests.

She perks when she hears someone knocking on the door. She wasn't able to say anything before it opened. Walking in was Sentinel, with his servos behind his back.

(Y/n) gets up and walks over to him, greeting him with a smile. “You came to visit!” She calls out. She can’t help but feel joy that she finally had company again.

“I can’t just leave my bride to be all alone, someone has to appreciate your pretty face plate. I brought you something, to celebrate our love” Pulling from behind his back, Sentinel reveals a present wrapped in blue paper with a golden ribbon tied around it. He holds it out for her to grab.

She takes it from him, carefully untying the ribbon. She removes the lid of the medium sized box, peeking inside of it. What she found inside was a cog, giving a soft (f/c) light. Her intake opens in shock, her spark swells in gratefulness.

“I…I–” She was at a loss of words, not sure what to say. She hugs Sentinel's waist, as she is too small to wrap her arms any higher. “Thank you!” She squeals with joy.

Sentinel tenses up at the touch, stopping himself from pushing her off. He pats her head, trying to keep a smile on his face. “It’s no problem, of course. It’s the least I can do. Now come on, put it in” He advises.

Letting go of him, (Y/n) takes the cog out of the box. She places the cog in her chest, feeling warmth emanating from it. Her form began to change, she grew taller and her armor became more complex. She gazes upon her new look, tracing on the edges of her plates in fascination.

The cog felt so right in her previous empty chassis, it was like it was a part of her that was missing. It made her wonder how Sentinel got one and why her and other miners weren’t made with them. But she decides to keep those questions to herself.

“You look divine, sweetspark” Sentinel mentions, cupping (Y/n)’s chin. It made the femme realize she had grown twice her original size, Sentinel now being only (almost) two heads bigger than her.

“Thank you” (Y/n) responds, but this time she was completely sincere. Her feelings of being trapped being pushed to the back of her mind.

“As much as I want to stay, I have to go on an expedition to find the matrix of leadership. See you at the altar, darling” Sentinel spoke in a loving voice. He turns away, his smile faltering. He walks out the room and closes the door behind him.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Orion, D-16, Elita-1 and B-127 return to the cave where Alpha Trion was waiting for them after they witness Sentinel Prime working for their worst enemy: the Quintessons. He was also the one to backstab the primes and killed them off one by one.

“That really was something, huh” B-127 awkwardly utters, feeling the thick tension in the cave. “I’d really hate being married to that guy” He remarks, trying to lighten the mood.

It makes Orion and D-16 freeze in place, remembering something that slipped their mind. They exchange looks before looking at Elita-1, who seem to realise as well.

B-127 notices the reactions, confusing him. “Did I say something wrong?” He asks.

“The wedding!” D-16 paces back and forth, beginning to panic. “(Y/n), our (Y/n) is marrying that tyrant and we have to stand around” He exclaims, frustrated. He was starting to think that his friend didn’t have a choice in becoming Sentinel Conjunx Endura.

“Okay, okay, that is another thing to add to the list of reasons to stop Sentinel. We can do this, stop the wedding and expose Sentinel. Do you know when it’s being held?” Orion asks Elita-1, placing his servo on his chin.

The femme thinks, trying to remember. “After the race, he made a second announcement. The wedding is going to be held in the middle of Iacon over…ten groons if I remember correctly” Elita-1 explains, making sure she remembered correctly.

“Ten groons!? There is no way we can make it back to Iacon in that time AND stop Sentinel!” D-16 yells, throwing his arms in the air.

B-127 stands next to Alpha Trion, both equally confused on what was going on. The prime pieces together that the traitor was marrying a friend of theirs. Meanwhile the yellow bot thinks about how he has never been to a wedding. ding.

The cave that they were residing in began to shake, telling that they were found out. Alpha Trion points the four bots towards a hidden tunnel to escape, while he buys them time. The clock kept moving, so did they.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

(Y/n) gazes into the tall mirror in front of her, not sure of what she thought of her reflection. Draped from her chest, around her arms and ending on her back with a bow was a delicate gold fabric. It reminded her of the present Sentinel gave her not so long ago. Her digits trace it carefully, scared to rip it. She pauses, thinking she heard yelling above her. But a knock at the door makes her ignore the noise. “Yes?” She answers, curious on who it was.

“The wedding is about to commence, it’s time to bring you to the altar” A guard from the other side of the door, the femme had grown quite familiar with him already. Not long after that, the door opens to reveal (Y/n). She kept quiet as she was escorted away.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Right at that moment, above her room was the High guard, along with her friend (and B-127) were held. Sentinel walks past the rows of captured rebels. “ Look at this rowdy bunch! The High Guard! You know, you guys have been tough to find. Every trip to the surface, I’ve been searching for you” He looked down on the ones who escaped him for too long, feeling victorious.

“Tracking the bots in the cave led me right to them,” Airachnid adds, smugly.

Sentinel reaches the two front rows, spotting the leader of the High guard. “Oh-ho-ho! You captured Starscream!” He says in surprise, getting a distorted high pitched voice yelling angry things in return. He laughs at the hilarious sound “You sound ridiculous. It’s weird”.

He turns to his other side, finding D-16 kneeled down. His black helm and armor being replaced with silver, now having a cog given by Alpha Trion. Other changes being his height and a cannon on his right arm. “what a tragic story you’ll be. Atop the leaderboard in your sector and secretly a traitor” The fake prime taunts him, mockingly, “Getting close to the future queen of Iacon so you can give her right over to the Quintessons”.

“Keep her out of your mouth” D-16 mutters, bitterly. He glares up at the taller bot with hatred. His love for his friend was pure, his lie infuriated him. If he wasn’t handcuffed, he would’ve pulled out glossa out his intake.

“All of you are traitors. You’ve been working with the Quintessons to sabotage my expeditions. You’re the reason why I haven’t found the Matrix of Leadership yet” Sentinel makes up the fake truth, the story that he will tell citizens of Iacon.

“None of that is true!” B-127 argues, sitting right next to D-16. “The people are going to find out one way or another”.

“About what? That I plucked the cogs from your newborn chests? Forced you to mine so that I could pay off the Quintessons and live like a king? None of that matters. Because the truth is what I make it” Sentinel declares, leaning down towards the yellow bot. “I was originally going to execute you all right now. But since I’m such a great leader, I’ll let you watch the wedding. An execution is not something you do right before such a beautiful moment”.

In the corner of his eye, Sentinel notices D-16 getting up onto his feet. The blue and gold bot straightens his back, standing in front of the ex-miner. “Well, well. What’s this about?”

“I’m not kneeling in front of you” D-16 declares, not having a single drop of respect for the horrible boy in front of him.

“Feeling confident, are we?”

“You don’t scare me. You want to know why?” D-16 states, standing his ground.

“please” Sentinel smirks, telling him to elaborate. He was curious about what the ex-miner was going to tell him.

“Because I don’t have anything left to lose. You took it all” The silver bot answered. His best friend is ‘dead’, his crush is getting forced to get married to a monster and everything he believed in was a lie.

“I sure did,” Sentinel replies. Before punching the mech, watching him fall onto the ground. His blue optics latch onto the slightly damaged Megatronus prime decal on D-16’s shoulder, he snatches it off. “Ah, Megatronus Prime. Of course you were a fan. Megatronus was the coolest Prime! The biggest! The baddest! The toughest!”

He opens his chassis to reveal a purple cog in his slot. “That’s why, after I killed him, I took his cog for myself” He says, looking proud as talk about the horrible things he has done.

“He was greater than you’ll ever be!” D-16 yells at him from the floor.

“I don’t know. I’m pretty great. But I can understand why you’d want to wear his face over mine. Here. Let’s make sure it doesn’t come off” Sentinel drops the decal onto D-16’s chassis. Airachnid hands him a blowtorch, which he gladly takes. D-16 grunts in pain as he feels the blowtorch digging through his metal. B-127 looks on in horror, helpless to do anything.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

(Y/n) stood at the beginning of the long carpet, anxiously fiddling with her golden accessory. She felt everyone staring at her, making her not feel any better. She began walking down the aisle, passing by rows of cybertronians. She turns her gaze forward to see Sentinel standing at the altar, waiting for her. Next to him stood the officiant, a red mech called Knockout. She reaches the altar, climbing onto it. She stood on the opposite side of Sentinel, hesitantly looking him in the eye.

“Alright, let’s begin this” Knockout clears his throat, looking at the tablet he was holding. “Welcome mechs and femmes to the spark bonding of Sentinel prime and (Y/n). For almost fifty cycles, there hasn’t been a wedding ‘cause of the hard times Cybertron has been through ever since the death of thirteen primes and the disappearance of the Matrix Of Leadership. But once more we are able to witness such a beautiful occa—”.

He was cut off by the ground beginning to slightly shake as a loud crash sound was heard. Sentinel looks to his left, seeing a metro crashing into the tour where the High guard was being held. The crowd gasps in shock and worry, thinking it was an accident. All the screens turn on, playing the same video. “

“About what? That I plucked the cogs from your newborn chests? Forced you to mine so that I could pay off the Quintessons and live like a king? None of that matters. Because the truth is what I make it” Sentinel’s voice echoes throughout Iacon. Footage of Sentinel kneeling in front of quintessons, giving over energon to the. Citizens gasp at what they were seeing, the one they trusted was sabotaging them all along.

(Y/n) steps back with an expression of horror and disgust. Sentinel reaches for her, trying to make up an excuse to cover his tracks. He sees as everything he built began falling down, in a blink of an optic.

“Sentinel!”

A voice yells from above. Knockout was just fast enough to pull (Y/n) away to a safer distance. A bot comes crashing in, tackling Sentinel to the ground. Sentinel tries to fly away, but the cybertronian grabs him by the leg and pulls him back down. The mysterious bot raises their arm, shooting Sentinel’s wing with it. The blast carries through and hits one of the tall buildings.

(Y/n) squints her optics, trying to get a good look at Sentinel’s attacker. Their helm shape seemed familiar, along with the silver color of their armor. But she recognises who it was once they turn around to look at her. “D..!?” She yells out in surprise, she realises how much he changed since last she saw him. It has been like 3 cycles, what has happened since then.

Letting go, D-16 turns around to face the femme. She also changed in the time he was gone. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more. His attention was brought to the golden fabric draped over her form, most likely given by Sentinel. Dressed like was an object that he claimed. It disgusted him.

He turns back to the traitor lying pathetically on the ground. He raises his arm cannon, pointing at him. He was about to shoot, when he was pushed aside. “What are you doing?!” He yells, realising it was Orion who pushed him.

“It’s over, D. Everyone in Iacon knows the truth” Orion argues, standing in front of his friend.

The two go back and forth, tussling with each other. D-16 raises his canon, firing at Sentinel. Orion jumps in front of him, not thinking his friend would actually shoot. It goes straight through it, creating a giant gaping hole in Orion’s shoulder. He falls backwards, almost into a seemingly endless pit. D-16 catches his hand, laying down on the edge.

“Orion!’ (Y/n) calls out, gasping. She tries to rush over to them to help pull the injured mech up. But she was held back by Knockout, she slightly thrashed in his grip. “Hey, let go! I have to help them”.

“No uh, no way” Knockout shook his head, seeming a bit afraid. “No idea who that mech is, but he is way too dangerous” He said, eyeing the view.

Thinking of all that has happened since he met Orion, D-16’s view started to change. He was always the one to get the reckless bot out of trouble, risking his own metal to help him. If Orion was out of the picture, he could finally get rid of Sentinel for once and all. “I’m done saving you” His optics flicker from orange to a fiery red, finally crossing the line. He lets go, letting go of Orion.

“No!” (Y/n) yells, jerking forward. She could only watch as one of her dearest friends fell into oblivion. Then her attention was turned to D-16 fighting the guards that appeared to protect Sentinel. The silver bot easily finishes them off and puts his attention on the crawling bot.

Grabbing him, D-16 pulls him up into the air. With one strong pull, he tears Sentinel in two, leaving the broken bot to lay on the ground like scrap metal. There was a weird satisfied feeling coursing through her circuits. She didn't notice Knockout had disappeared, probably scared off by his former leader getting ripped apart.

D-16 reaches into Sentinel's chest, ripping Megatronus’ cog out of it. He walks to the edge of the stage, facing the giant crowd of cybertronians. He raises the cog in the air, yelling to those down below “The Age of Primes has ended! No more false prophets! Follow me and you will never again be deceived. RISE UP!”.

The High guard chants “Rise up”, eating every word D-16 yelled. The tall mech continued his speech, “I will lead us all into the future!”. He opens his chassis, removing Onyx prime’s cog and replacing it with Megatronus’. His frame became even larger than before, along with his blasters becoming more stronger. “I…am…Megatron!” He announces, naming himself after his fallen idol.

Chaos erupts as D-16, now known as Megatron and the High guard begin destroying buildings surrounding them. B-127 and Elita-1 tried stopping him but with little success. Like a phoenix coming up from the ashes, Orion Pax or more correctly Optimus prime emerges from the depths of Cybertron’s core. In his chassis was the Matrix of Leadership l, given to him by Primus himself. It enraged Megatron.

The two tumble off the podium, fighting with their new found abilities. From friends to foes, how much can change overnight. It all comes to a stop when Optimus slices Megatron’s cannon with his newly obtained axe. With a heavy spark, Optimus banishes his old friend.

Pushing past him, Megatron limps off. He stops in place, he turns around. He holds his servo out towards…(Y/n). His red optics soften, a stark difference from how he looked at Optimus.

(Y/n) gazes at him, then towards Optimus and finally to Megatron’s servo. Now she had to make a decision, one that would change her life forever.

Take Megatron’s hand or stay by Optimus' side

#fanfic #x reader #oneshot #megatron transformers #transformers #transformers x reader #starligt_galaxy #sentinel prime #tf one #tfone sentinel #d 16 #d 16 x reader #d 16 transformers #orion pax #transformers one #wedding #wedding crashing #arranged marriage #me yapping about isolation

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til-all-are-loved · 4 months ago

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Hihii! Your IDW megatron makes my heart swoon (he's very well written, hehe) I'm wondering if you have HCs for G1 Megatron as well? Maybe with a human reader too

oops this became like a whole thing (do people even make oneshots anymore). also this became nsfw, if that's not what you wanted please shoot me another ask and i'll redo it <3

{Mascara Running Everywhere}

G1 Megatron x Reader One-Shot

NSFW, afab reader

rough sex | power dynamics | sex servant | 2110 words

You were just an average civilian, taking a walk down a public trail into the barren hills. Hiking seemed like a good idea—a chance to get outside, feel the sun on your skin, and maybe find some peace.

Wrong day for that. Very wrong.

The Decepticons were retreating when it happened. Out of nowhere, you were scooped up in the jaws of Ravage and whisked away to their headquarters. The world blurred past, and by the time the rushing air settled, you were unceremoniously dropped at Megatron’s feet.

For a long, harrowing moment, he simply stared down at you. Cold. Isolated. Frightened. Something flickered in those piercing red optics. Not pity—never pity. No, it was something darker. A desire to control, to dominate.

Your ordeal began soon after. They kept you in a cage—small, cramped, and situated in a high-traffic area like some grotesque display. The humiliation was endless. Decepticons would pass by, sneering, their optics glinting with amusement or disdain. Verbal jabs cut deep, their cruel laughter a constant reminder of your helplessness. You sat huddled, cold and shivering, alone in your prison. No signs of rescue. No one coming to help. By the second night, your sobs echoed through the metallic corridors.

At first, Megatron reveled in your despair. The sound pleased him, a testament to your broken will. But the noise soon became a distraction, grating against his patience. On the third night, he'd had enough.

The ground trembled under his heavy footsteps as he approached. You froze when his towering form loomed over the cage, his optics blazing down at you. He stared, silent and unreadable, before the lock clicked open. The door swung wide, and before you could even think to run, his massive servo descended.

His grip wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t gentle either. The cold metal pressed against your ribs and hips, reminding you how fragile you were in his grasp. Struggling felt pointless. Resignation set in—you would endure whatever was coming next.

He carried you briskly to another room, its dim light casting long shadows. With a calculated motion, he placed you on a dashboard. The surface was unyielding beneath you, and the room thrummed faintly with energy. Megatron pulled up a chair and sat heavily, the impact reverberating through the space. He leaned in, his red optics casting an ominous glow that painted you in shades of crimson.

Without a word, his massive digits reached out, pinching at your clothing and prodding at your face. The gestures were curious, deliberate, and invasive. You didn’t flinch. There was no point. His gaze bore into you. As you endured his explorations you were as well analyzing his expression. Irritation curled into fascination, a smile played at his lips and his cheeks rose in satisfaction. He likes what he sees.

You dared not flinch as a digit stroked your face, swiping underneath your eye.

"Hmmmm." A low rumble of interest purred out of him, vibrating through the air. "What could this be?" he murmured, his optics narrowing as he examined his fingertip.

In the dim light, you caught a glimpse of it—a dark smudge of mascara on the tip of his grey finger. Your lip quivered involuntarily, betraying your nerves.

"Be still, my sweet bird," he said, his tone deceptively gentle, though there was no mistaking the edge of command beneath it. "Your war paint is... fascinating. A pity you've made such a mess of it." He held the smudge up for another moment, as though pondering its significance, before dismissively wiping it off on the edge of the table.

"Clean yourself up, whelp," he ordered, his optics locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn. "And return to me only when you’ve made yourself beautiful again."

Before you could react, his massive servo enveloped you once more, plucking you from the table with an ease that reminded you just how insignificant you were in his grasp. The world blurred as he carried you off, his heavy steps resounding like distant cannon fire.

You were deposited abruptly onto the floor of another room, where a smaller figure waited. The one called Rumble stood there, arms full of towels, clothes, and various toiletries. His expression was unreadable, but he didn’t linger long.

"Uh—yeah, boss says to, uh, clean yourself up... and, uh, yeah," he mumbled, unceremoniously shoving the pile into your arms before scuttling away like a startled rodent. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone.

The wash racks were utilitarian and grim, but the cold saltwater that poured over you was a surprising comfort after everything you’d endured. You scrubbed yourself clean, the sharp chill biting at your skin and grounding you momentarily in the present. When you turned to the pile of supplies, you were stunned to find an array of surprisingly high-quality products—luxurious even. Brushes, palettes, and powders lay in perfect order, the kind of items someone might steal from a boutique rather than find in a warlord’s lair.

Still, you worked quickly, applying your makeup with practiced hands in the reflection of a small handheld mirror. When you were finished, you steeled yourself with a deep breath and stepped into the hallway.

You didn’t make it far. Megatron swept you up again with terrifying speed, the force of it leaving your head spinning and your heart pounding. His laughter boomed, a deep, resonant sound that chilled you to the core.

“Well, well,” he mused, his voice a twisted mixture of amusement and satisfaction. “Such a pretty little pet to entertain me.”

His grip tightened just enough to remind you of your fragility as he carried you back to his quarters. When he sat down, it was abrupt and deliberate, the vibrations from his weight settling into the chair reverberating through you. He placed you on his massive thigh so that your legs straddled him, The force made you lurch forward forcing yourself to catch yourself on your hands. Leaning in close, his optics flaring brightly in the dimness. The faint whir of his internal mechanisms filled the silence as he examined you sprawled out on top of you.

“This is where I will keep you,” he commanded softly, his massive frame looming like a storm.

It was wrong. So utterly, undeniably wrong. And yet, somehow, you grew to look forward to your days with him.

He made sure you were cared for—though in his own twisted way. Deliveries of stolen luxury poured in: designer clothes, glittering jewels, opulent bags crafted for someone with a life far removed from this metallic fortress. Week after week, the offerings grew.

He expected you to dress for him, to dazzle with beauty, and, most importantly, to entertain. On days when you failed to captivate him, his disappointment was evident. With a dismissive wave of his massive hand, you would be sent away to try again, to prove yourself worthy of his attention.

And so, you lived for those fleeting moments when his raspy, low voice would utter words of praise. It was intoxicating, his approval. You found yourself craving it. Wondering what more you might earn if you pleased him enough. Surely, you thought, even your own pleasure could one day be a possibility.

That day, you had dressed with meticulous care for what had become your grueling eight-hour "shift" of looking perfect. The black silk dress you chose clung to your body like a second skin, its elegance heightened by the glittering diamond-encrusted bangles on your wrists and the delicate silver necklace resting against your collarbone. Every detail was deliberate, calculated to ensure you looked flawless.

He wasted no time. in sweeping you up and you were placed on his lap like a prized possession.

And thus began your dance. You shifted forward, bracing your weight on your hands. Your knees squeezed tightly against the sides of his massive thighs, as a rider on a saddle. You arched your back dramatically. You turned your head, your eyes meeting his with a smolder.

If it was his attention you wanted, you had it entirely.

His expression betrayed him, a flicker of surprise mingled with excitement. You’d caught him off guard, your boldness sparking a reaction that even he hadn’t anticipated.

You reach back to pull your dress back, tightly sliding off to expose your ass.

This earned you a pantherine smile, and a firm tug on your ankle. Now your ass lined against his-- what would one call it? "Modesty panel"? You almost laughed to yourself. The implication that there could be something beneath lit your imagination on fire. You imagined yourself being stuffed with a large warm metal cock in a slew of indecent ways.

With some new inspiration, you grind your hips against his crotch. He didn't release a servo from your ankle, observing you desperately search for some friction to achieve relief. With his other servo he slipped his digits under your dress, playing with the feeling of the fabric and your hot skin. With no effort at all and a quick snap he tore the garment off your body.

In a swift motion you were flipped onto your back. You silently gasped at the sudden exposure.

"Such a fragile little thing," he rumbled, his optics burning into you. "Do you squirm like this for anyone else?"

With a servo around your back he lifted you to another that now supported your ass as well as keeping your legs parted. With a hard click his plating hit the floor followed by a soft hiss. You watched his spike pressurize against your pussy.

You squirmed against him observing this alien dick. It was already covered in a thin slick lubricant, warm and pulsating. Small red lights trailed down the underside and some between paneling in the mesh. You lowered yourself excruciatingly slowly past the tip. You guessed that it was about 18 inches in length, an intimidating girth as well. It took almost a minute of bobbing up and down to stuff half of it up your pussy.

Megatron sighed and moved into a languid position. His other servo found its way to your back again and provided firm support to guide you up and down. A fierce roar of his internal fans was all the assurance that you were thrilling him. That and the frequent low staticky sighs he made while fucking you.

"Cry for me" He ordered. "Sing for me, human"

His demand was enforced with a thrust from his hips and a rapid increase in pace, earning him a wail from you. Your swollen cunt made hideous wet slapping noises off his body. The sensation your entire pussy being stretched while being mechanically railed sent waves of pleasure through you. Every movement built the intensity higher and higher. Your skin and core burned hot, the fire rising inside you. With a gasp and cry your body shuddered and you climaxed at last, your fluids dribbling down his spike.

His relentless pace did not let up as he continued fucking you through the orgasm before his spike pulsed and throbbed inside you. The sensation of incredibly hot cum filled your already sore pussy. Already filled to the limit the pink fluid dribbled out of you.

His body slumped further into the chair and he let out a crackling groan. His hands softened their grip on you and you took a deep breath, you hadn't realized how firmly you were being held until you were free.

His head tilted back, optics dimming slightly as a rare moment of quiet overtook him. “Hmph,” he muttered, his voice low and rasping. “You endure well… for a creature so small.”

You slid to the floor and gathered yourself. Your body trembled with exhaustion and something unnamable. He didn’t stop you, his optics dim and unreadable as you picked up the tattered remains of your dress.

“Go,” he commanded, his voice a deep rumble, quieter now but no less commanding. “Return to your chambers... and prepare yourself. You’ll be summoned again soon.”

You didn’t look back as you stepped out of the room, the echo of his words and the lingering weight of his touch still heavy on your skin. The metallic halls stretched ahead, cold and unfeeling, a stark contrast to the heat that still clung to you. You clutched the fabric tighter to your chest and walked on, your mind spinning, knowing that tonight would not be the last time you would entertain him.

The door slid shut behind you with a hiss, sealing away the towering warlord and the line you had crossed.

#transformers x reader #megatron x reader #g1 transformers #g1 transformers fanfiction #tf fanfic #oneshot #x reader #transformers oneshot x reader #megatron oneshot #drabble #long #megatron #g1 megatron #til all are loved

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