I know Perceptor & Brainstorm are like *the* thing. Everyone loves Simpatico. But hear me out here, real rare pair hours, First Aid & Perceptor?! Anyway here have some bullet pointed reasons why I think it would work & a short scenerio about it since there is NOT A SINGLE OUNCE OF Perceptor x First Aid content anywhere... original idea ig
Both are extremely passionate about their fields & will push the envelope a bit to make advancements in their fields. Perceptor is constantly inventing/engineering things & First Aid invented the Spark Jump-Start (using his spark as the first healthy one to provide a jump .)
Which brings me to my next point. Both are slightly unhinged due to this passion & dedication for their fields. First Aid was willing to strap his spark to a dying mechs to potentially save said mech. Yes his spark could have jump started the other mechs but also the other mechs spark could have collapsed First Aids. Peceptor is equally unhinged as seen by the fact that he joined the Wreckers for a time and lived! Also he puts up with Brainstorm & shares a lab space with him on the Lost Light.
Next point: they both know and do lab work on the regular. First Aids is medical in nature but medical & science lab work is often similar/parallel. They would perfectly understand each other venting about a hard day in the lab. Or be able to aid each other with labs/lab notes. It always nice to be understood the first time whether explain things or venting.
Also they could help each other with work on occasion. Give each other fresh ideas, compare notes, get an outside perspective. Perceptor could help First Aid with his microscopic sight & First Aid could help Perceptor with Cyberyronian bioloical science work/research. They would be unstoppable together, both dedicated & helping each other. THINK OF THE ADVANCES THIS WOULD LEAD TO!
The only problem is sometimes they'll work too hard. Get too far into their projects or work that suddenly the dates will all be lab work. "Hun, you wanna get drinks at Swerves? No, I'm working on this? Oh what's that... how curious." *Sits down & they don't move for 8hrs as they slowly lean into each other while working on a solution*
Not that either mind much, but sometimes they'll spend a little too much time working together on things. They know somewhere deep in their processors they should have better work life balance. But they also both take great joy in making advancements & discovers for the greater good.
Both would validate the others work though which is all either of them want. *Cut to Perceptor needing thorough peer review & First Aid begging Ratchet to validate his spark-jump idea* And working together they would be the unstoppable IT couple. Constantly pushing rhe envelope & asking the hard questions while theorizing & checking each other's work.
I also think Perceptor's logic/routine is the only thing that could quell & reason with First Aid's Obsessive-Compulsive tendencies. Just as First Aid is one of the few who could make Perceptor losen up & crack a joke/have a cute moment. (Think Simpatico but they have their own thing like idk 'See')
Think Perceptor is able to reason with First Aids irrational/intrusive OCD parts while First Aid is able to help Perceptor achieve better social networking & make him actually relax away from work
You can call me insane, but I wanna see this medic and scientist kiss. Comfort each other when they have flashbacks to their war side quests. (Especially since both wanted to do science/medicine and weren't really into fighting that's gotta weigh heavy on both of them.) I wanna see them talk to each other in science nerd without having to dumb it down. I want them to compliment each other & heal each other. I wanna see them put up with each other's isms. I think it'd be so cute.
Perceptor x First Aid: Their ship name could be First Perception or Perceptive Aid! THIS IS LITERALLY THE CUTEST SHIP NAME EVER AND YOU CAN'T CHANGE MY MIND.
Idk y'all I just think of these two & I see two hard working dedicated individuals who would compliment each other nicely in the day to day life. Also Ilike the duality of them being a great working duo but then when they go home to their habsuite at night tje chemistry is still there. We all know they are FREAKS too... stress relief and all.
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First Aid walked down the hall towards Perceptor's lab. It was late and he had just gotten off his shift. Perceptor was supposed to be at the medbay waiting for him when he got out, but clearly the microscope had gotten lost in his work again. So First Aid trudged his way across this quarter of the ship and up the hall. It wasn't the worst trip ever, and was becoming increasingly familiar, but still not wanted after a 12hr shift.
He punched in the code to the science unit door, Perceptor having shared it with him early on in their relationship, and the door slid back revealing just the mech he was looking for. "Perceptor," First Aid hummed as he paced forwards, pausing before slowly reaching out to touch the mech.
"First Aid," Perceptor cleared his vocalizer, "I... I lost track of time I suppose."
"It's alright, just, let's got back to our habsuite? I'm tired, and my scanners indicate you are too."
"Alright let me just store everything away." Perceptor meticulously packed everything away in it proper containers, and cleansed his work space before turning to First Aid. Upon seeing the weary medibot in full view, the scientist took one long stride and scooped him up.
"W-what," First Aid squirmed in Perceptors grib but the larger bot tighten his grip.
"Consider this an apology for making you walk all this way on such tired peds."
Imagine if the Cybertronians assimilated into Earth's culture cause they couldn't make it back to Cybertron. So the war is ended thanks to peace talks facilitated by the humans who don't want to die. All seems well. Cybertronian medics & scientists help their respective fields make advances & fill the understaffing gap. Construction crews are bolstered with new self working equipment, jobs get done twice as fast. Cybertronians show humans how to build better energy retention from greener sources. Exploration crews are now able to explore deeper into space & the oceans thanks to engineering advances & hearty bots.
Only problem is... Earth is meant for human transportation. Human road laws, human air traffic spaces, human error. Like what do you mean they have to follow the roads?! What do you mean certain air space are restricted?! What do you mean humans don't have spacial awareness of their car?!
Imagine Cybertronians getting pissed because humans have only peripherals & common driving law. LIKE HELLO CYBERTRONIANS ARE THE CAR! And between their EM Fields & advanced body censor they can tell where everything is around them at any given second while driving. WHY CAN'T YOU KAREN?!
"Did this glitch just cut me off?!"
"How do they not know I'm trying to pass them right now?"
"What the frag is their issue?"
I just imagine Cybertronians as being super diligent on the roads together. Any slight shift in fields or censor and they know what's gonna happen. 'Oh the shifted slightly they're gonna pass,' or 'Oh they are slowing down, they're about to turn.' Literally it's just second nature to them as technological beings who have a secondary car form. They don't need to use blinkers or check blind spots they already know there's nothing there & they can turn/merge/change lanes. SO WHY TF CAN'T HUMANS?! This pisses them off so much. But also leads to so many hijinx.
Cue the Cybertronians having to go through human drivers ed. So they can safely drive amongst humans. They find out what blinkers are on Earth. Oh ho ho!
"Why would I flash somebody? I'm conjunxed I don't need to."
"It's to turn!"
"Oh... well thats dumb just turn the others will know."
"No... not they won't. Just use your blinker."
They don't agree with human driving tactics & laws but abide by them because they must. For the humans safety and continued peace between Cybertronians & humans. But that doesn't mean they can't bitch about them. And they will. I like to imagine they do this over comm-links.
Like truckers on CB Radios. They'll comm each other while they're driving and just gab back and forth. About the speed of traffic. Some terrible drivers. How irritating human driving is. Anything. And the humans will never know! Because it's over comm.
Imagine there's a traffic jam on one of the major interstates. Bots are just trying to get home along with humans after a long day.
"10 bucks says it's a human on human crash that's the hold up."
"Oh, no doubt. Did you see the way the piece of scrap just merged in front of me?!"
"They drive like they got their license from the Pits."
"They can't figure out which exit is theirs... so they slow down at each sign." (I headcanon they have built in GPS, they know where they are in a space & where they need to go. It's all run on censors, data & fields.)
"Sparklings in the car 5 o'clock. Mom's texting and driving, oof not a good choice. I'll honk & make her put it down."
Like all this is being said in this interstate traffic jam & the humans are clueless that the bots around them are gossiping so fucking hard about them. Talking shit. Or or or if the bots are really bored in traffic they'll start playing games with each other over comms. Once again like trucker on cb radio.
"I spy with my optic something red."
"The stoplight."
"Hey hey hey. Is that an Oregon license plate?! What are they doing down here???"
"Primus it is! That makes 20 states I've seen today."
Which leads me into Cybertronians getting their own type of license plate. Instead of drivers licenses they just get plates. This way the population knows a) they passed their driver's Ed & can drive and b) if they get in trouble with the law which law to call. Because let's be honest human cops chasing Cybertronian vehicles is an unfair chase the humans will eventually be out done (but Cybertronian cops chasing humans will always catch them another win of Cybertronians assimilating onto Earth). But they can always phone in a Cybertronian cop for the chase of a fellow Cybertronian. Prowl and Barricade would love to lay down some heat.
Can you imagine those high speed chase conversations?
"They're trying to speed up as if we are even a fraction of our resources."
"I know. Oop, going down random side streets, like we haven't tagged them on the satilles yet."
"Yep, ain't going no where."
Idk it just tickles me pink thinking about it.
Tagging: @chroma-asks cause she helped me with this idea over discord
A/N: Soooo um... I have writers block x10. None of my series are inspiring atm. So I'm gonna write some constructicon headcanons/scenerios for funsies. **This is a slight AU where cybertronian's have integrated into Earth culture cause they couldn't make it back to Cybertron & the war is over.** (This lowkey became a novel but bullet pointed instead of in paragraphs.) My credentials/sources for this are I've worked in landscaping & a clean up crew.
Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Flirting, Alcohol Consumption/Drunk (Not in great detail), one mildly suggestive comment (consentual)
I think the boys would just happen notice you one day out of no where & make it into a friendship/relationship. Idk if you've ever been on a labor crew but they notice everything & never let it go. You do something one time & they make it your whole personality & make nicknames about it. Literally one event is all it takes.
So when they see you walking by a construction site of theirs they immediately hone in. They don't have to say a word, it's all nods & head tilts towards you. Raising optical ridges. Very subtle, but after you've gone by & are out of ear shot they'll talk about you for a bit to fill time.
"Didn't they walk by yesterday?" "I think so." "Do you think this is their daily walking route?" "I hope so, easy on the optics." "Puts a pep in my step."
They aren't oogling in that creepy way I promise. They just like the routine of seeing you, and okay maybe you are a little pretty. But they also respect you.
Cause that's another thing about good, honest blue collar men. They are SO respectful. And have a killer sense of humor.
Finally after a few days they feel confident enough to say something to you. Nothing creepy, no catcalling. Just a simple "Morning, 5k," cause of course they nicknamed you after walking marathons... you're always walking by.
It makes you pause. "What?" And the one you've seen turn into a front loader calls back, "you know cause you're always walking? Made us think of those 5k Marathons humans do."
"Oh," you have a good laugh & supply your name in return they tell you theirs. Scrapper, Hook, Bonecrusher, Longhaul, Mixmaster & Scavenger. They still call you 5k though Unless it REALLY bothers you cause a nickname always sticks
Sooner or later you start looking forward to the daily interactions too. They'll converse with you the whole time you walk by now filling each second they see you with words. It's only a total of about 5 mins, but hey its a routine at this point! And makes all of you smile.
"Morning 5k!" "Morning Boss." You made your own nicknames for them... not nearly as clever as theirs but you have come to know Scrapper is their leader so you call him Boss just as the rest do. "Nice weather, heard there might be rain later though." "Yeah, best make sure you boys wrap up before then don't want to melt." You all have a good laugh before you turn the corner to disappear for the day.
(The rest of the nicknames are as follows: Mixit = Mixmaster, Digs = Scavenger, Stretch = Hook, Crush =Bonecrusher & Big Guy = Longhaul)
Eventually the boys will work up the courage to lean over the construction site fence to be a bit more personal. They feel like y'all have talked enough they can be a bit more casual/friendly with you. They might even poke your shoulder or compliment your hair if they see fit. Once again they want to be respectful, but also seeing you daily means they can tell if you got a hair cut or changed your appearance in some way. Also seeing you daily they have categorized you as an acquaintance.
"Ey, 5k got a hair cut," Hook called as he leaned over the fence to lightly ruffle your hair. "Big date?" "Naw, just needed a change." "Suits you," Longhaul spoke simply. "Thanks Big Guy." At this point you have paused on your walk. "How's the project going, Boss?" "Almost ready to wrap up." This makes you all pause, you'll miss this little routine. "Well, congrats," you finally say before you start walking, "another job well done. See you tomorrow."
As the project nears closer & closer to the end the constructiboys finally decide to take a chance & give you their individual comm-links. So you can text & call them if wanted. They make it clear its completely up to you & that its not like they expect anything, they just like this friendship & don't want to lose it once the job is over.
You take the slip of paper looking at all 6 codes. You'd have to download one of those apps that allows your phone to interact with Cybertronian comm-links. But you think maybe you would like a friendly group chat with the boys. Just something to keep up the daily banter you have fostered over the last few months.
After you weigh your options for a bit, your answer solidifies the day you walk by where they usually are & everything is cleaned up. The new building is fully erected & they are no where in sight. Obviously moved on to a new project. Something is missing, so you finally make the jump & download one of those apps to text them.
You: Hey its me. Nice work on the building, looks great. Missing y'all tho.
Scavenger: YOU TEXTED US!!!
Scrapper: Miss you too, no one walks by this new site we are scouting, awful lonely.
You: Damn, sounds depressing. What you building this time?
Scrapper: We are supposed to be building apartments.
You: Ah, make sure you make those bathrooms roomie, small bathrooms suck.
Bonecrusher: You got a small bathroom 5k? We can upgrade it for you.
You: Haha, okay sure lol.
Except they're not joking. They will always offer to fix things for you & if you truly asked them too they would at the drop of a hat.
Eventually you do take them up on the offer, but only after texting for a bit and them pestering you pleading with you to let them 'just take a look' at your leaky faucet. You're short on cash & they're willing to do it for free so you finally agree.
You highly doubt they would suddenly turn out to be serial killers now.
They show up as promise, punctual & mass displaced. They are very respectful of your space & don't touch anything unless invited to. But they definitely are taking mental notes on your style & preferences for future builds/fixes cause there will be more you have your own handyman crew now
"Is this book series any good?" "Yeah it's one of my favorites." "Maybe I'll have to pick it up, I'm always looking for new reading material." "Did you make this painting yourself?" "Yeah, did it at a freestyle public class hosted at the local art & pottery place. Have you figured out what's wrong with my faucet yet?" "Oh yeah, we fixed that like 30 minutes ago, the head was stripped, threw on a new one, no more drips." "Oh..."
Yeah they're good it gets to the point where if you haven't mentioned a fix in a while they'll text you begging asking for something to do. They'll change your light bulbs, smoke detector batteries, anything to see you again & prevent you from overworking yourself (in their eyes).
Don't be afraid to stick up for yourself a little & let them know you aren't completely helpless. Otherwise they will take over every household project that isn't clean chores for you. Don't get me wrong they are helpful for big tasks, but sometimes you need some independence. And they'll always respect when you tell them no & back off a little.
Summer & fall they are coming over to help with big yard projects & clean ups too. Raking leaves, planting gardens, mowing your lawn. In the winter they'll appear early before your commute to shovel & salt your driveway. Your car already cleaned off too unless you want to do that.
Eventually your neighbors start asking about them. Ask why they come by so often, if you're one of those people starting to date the aliens new Earth residents. Some ask if they can get some help from the boys too. The Boys will help your neighbors but not as much as you & not nearly as willingly. But once again they are always polite when they do help and even more polite when declining your neighbors.
But the neighbors questions got your brain thinking. Why are they doing all this for you & not your neighbors? Why do they come around so often? What is this? Cause at this point you guys trade compliments freely, even playfully flirt with each other at times. Seeing them brings you so much joy & clearly seeing you does the same for them.
You remember all the times they had said "that's what friends are for." And how respectful they were, never expecting anything but your time & conversation & they are always mindful of boundaries. Clearly none of you had thought about this as nothing more than a friendship, but the neighbors raised good points.
It had come up briefly once or twice the topic of relationships. You had questioned if any of them had someone at home partially out of guilt because of how much of their time you monopolized. Between work & you were they ever home? They had responded no, and said a reciprocating response along the lines of 'well you must be single too since no one besides them was there to make fixes'
Other than that they had made no moves & neither had you. But now that you were thinking about it deeper what was dating anyway? Just a label for a deep connection. A label for someone(s) because we support poly here that you trust deeply, can rely on, can share secrets & inside jokes with, and support each other. Was that not what you had with the constructicons? Maybe you should ask them out...
This thought sat at the back of your brain for the next couple visits from them. Analyzing your interactions & feelings with them. Studying their own. Maybe you were reading too much into your nosy neighbors. But also the friendly flirting was hitting a little too close to home.
"Careful 5k, if you slide around too much on my shoulder you'll end up sitting on my face." "Sorry, Stretch I'm just trying to get the right angle."
Oh yeah... you're starting to see what your neighbors meant. 6 hot mechs showing up, making flirty comments & doing hard labor for free... how had you been so blind?
When you finally FINALLY make a move it's so subtle & the boys are such dorks that it doesn't click for them.
"So what do you guys do for fun besides bother me?" "We have a local bar we go to on occasion." "We built a giant version of corn hole at our bunker." "I have a dig box & Mixmaster has a chemistry set we use sometimes." Why are they gonna make you be more direct?
"That's cool... would you maybe want to grab drinks together sometime?" OOOHHH That's when it clicks for them. They all look at you, their faces tinged with energon. The boys clear their vents & they are all suddenly looking at anything but you. "Oh yeah." "That sounds fun." "Sure." "I wouldn't say no." "Together? Why not?" "It be nice to do that with you."
They are so flustered but not in a bad way. They are just surprised that you thought of them like that. Surprised you would even think about courting construction class bots. You seemed so out of their league they had settled for friendship.
With a bit of poking from you they had agreed to meet you Friday & show you their favorite drinking spot before they took their leave for the day. Because they didn't want to fanboy over you asking them out in front of you.
Friday rolls around and they appear in pristine condition. Someone went to the car wash before showing up. They just wanted to look their best for your date. And they kindly escort you to the bar, gabbing it up on the way over, and making sure not to crowd/overwhelm you.
Once you reach the bar they explain that its a mostly Cybertronian joint (but humans are still welcome) and they'll have to un-mass displace. You shrug & agree to ride on their shoulders, creating a whole system so each one gets a turn with you through out the night.
Not much changes about the dynamic between y'all. The jokes still fly & they are still polite as ever. But the flirting is new & electric. The flirting isn't nearly as risqué as before, but somehow more meaningful.
"Is that a new top? Didn't see that one in the closet when we replaced the door." "Oh yeah, got a few of them last week figured I bust them out for the occasion." "Feel honored you'd do that." "It looks great on you." They are so cute
By the time the night is over the whole thing can be written off as a success & your interally reminiscing about how you met. This all happened because you walked by their construction site daily.
They mass displace to walk you home again & they make sure you actually make it up the steps & to your couch on your wobbly, drunken legs. They leave you there tucked in & Hook makes it a point to leave you a tall glass of water & asprin for morning. Before they leave though you start rambling.
"So how's this gonna work? Am I allowed to date all of you? Or would that be weird? Don't make me pick. You all are so great." They all chuckle to each other. "You can try to date all of us 5k but why don't we discuss official labels once you're sober, kay?"
"Kay." And with that you are out like a light, falling asleep. They all share another chuckle before leaving, making sure to lock the door behind them. You were quite the catch in their optics.
Tagging: @chroma-asks & @barbra-annbunny cause I know they'll appreciate this
Fell in Love with a Girl Made on Earth (Swerve x Reader) - Word Count: ~1.4k
A/N: I listened to Made in Japan by Buck Owens & made this. I'm sorry in advance y'all this one made me cry while I was writing it.
WARNINGS: Angst, Pining/Longing, There is no happy ending, brief mention of alcohol consumption & throwing up (not descriptive)
Maybe it was the late-night bar shift or the fact that he had been sipping on engex throughout the night to test flavors, but somehow Swerve’s processor had drifted to you. Wonderful, beautiful you.
He had met you on Earth. You had been a beautiful, human woman who just so happened to be caught in their crossfire. Decepticons barreling down on them, firing everything they had. Swerve had scooped you up into his alt form to flee; he couldn’t have just left you there defenseless –and ultimately, Optimus had agreed. But in the moment, he hadn’t been worried about what Optimus or any of the others would think; he was just acting on pure instinct. The instinct to protect.
He had known you wouldn’t survive if left, so he grabbed you less than elegantly and shuffled you into him, rescuing you. He felt like the knight in shining armor saving the princess from a dragon. (Something he had seen a million times on screen since then.) You immediately started screaming, demanding answers, and he had complied while driving like a madman from the enemy Cons. Swerve had tried to explain everything to you in a way your tiny human brain would comprehend. They were aliens who had crash-landed on your planet. Aliens at war, and the war was now dictated by a race back to Cybertron. The winner of which would have a significant upper hand.
Surprisingly, by the end of the explanation, your fears had been quelled, and you were sitting quietly in his passenger seat listening. Listening was something others hadn’t done in a while; everyone learned to ignore his motormouth. The listening is what made him fall in love with you in the beginning, not your looks. It wasn’t gradual, no, it had hit him all at once like a fist, sending him helm over peds for you. Your active listening was amazing for his nonexistent ego, and he slowly came to realize your beauty as well. Alien as it was, he found it easy on his optics. But the listening! It showed how much you valued him and his words; if only he could have formed the words to express his love to you. You made his spark sing long after he had dropped you back off into your normal, human life.
That should have been the end of it; he should have had no further memories of you. No further fuel for his processor to burn him with on nights like these. But the warmth in his spark had brought him back to you for a late-night visit. Which quickly turned into two, three, four, dozens more; keeping you two together long after you two were supposed to have split ways. Those late nights were spent in friendly, hushed conversation with you, hiding in your garage with his helm bent low to avoid hitting the rafters. Giggles stifled by hands, so as not to alert your neighbors to the strange goings-ons at odd hours.
When the mood struck you two, you would go for a night drive. Swerve would pick the route, and you simply ran your hand along his dashboard. Sometimes this ended with the two of you stargazing in some remote location you had stumbled upon, him using his superior astrological skills to impress you. Once again, during these visits, he couldn’t find the words to convey how much you meant to him. Whenever he tried to tell you that his spark belonged to you, and only you, the words would die on his glossa, allowing you to continue blissfully unaware. Unaware that he held onto every brief touch and smile you sent his way, his prized possession was and always will be those memories of you leaning into his frame. (Swerve had no clue how he could explain this to anyone now.)
Your face had been the one he pictured on the battlefield every time. His great motivator and even greater delusion. Thoughts of coming home to you, of you jumping into his arms, and more still of him getting his happily ever after with you. The Cons defeat, allowing him to peacefully live the rest of life with you. But those days would never come. Things had been strung along far too long, and the day had come. The Autobots were leaving for home.
Swerve thought about begging Optimus to stay, then begging for you to come, but he knew neither was sustainable. Both of you would long for your original planet and your people for company. He could never pass off a task like that as just friendship, nor ask that of you in the name of what you thought was friendship. So that night, he had taken you on one of those infamous rides. Drove until he couldn’t avoid it anymore, then stopped at an empty riverbank. You two settled to look at the stars, and for the first time, he pointed to a dim blip in the distance. Cybertron’s sun.
Swerve had rambled again, and you –like always– had listened. He told you how far away it was, and you mused that it must be hard being that far from home. The next words caught in his vocaloids, even though he had rehearsed them endlessly. At a loss for words, he let the silence grow as he stupidly took in the moment, letting it drive deep like a knife. Memorizing your face in the hope he would never forget an inch of it. He should have just said what he needed to then and there rather than dragging the corpse of this relationship along any further, but he couldn’t. He let that knife twist in him so you could have this one last moment pain-free.
Eventually, he started the journey back to your garage, and the words fell from his mouth unceremoniously. They were ready to go home; he would be gone by morning. He felt terrible, but he couldn’t hold them back anymore. You had met his words with stunned silence, followed by tears and choked sobs. Human cries were so raw, he could never forget how it sounded; it was the first and last time he would make you cry. The sound was so awful to his audials –a complete opposite of your laughter– but you reassured him it was okay. That you were happy he got to go home. You had even hugged him goodbye once he was hidden back in your garage, wishing him safe travels. And in return, he had finally said it, those dreaded words; they came tumbling out like he was purging his tanks. (Remembering them brought him a similar disgust as watching someone upend their tanks on his bar, too.) “I loved you, I’m still in love with you, I always will be… but I have to go.”
And just like that, he had taken his spark saturated in feelings out back to be shot. Turning away from you before you could respond, he transformed and drove away like a madman, mirroring your meeting in a twisted way. Swerve didn’t look back; he couldn’t, he would have lost his gall. If he had, he would have turned around and started making unreasonable demands, compromises, bargains, anything to keep your sweetness in his life. But this was his consequence for falling in love with a human girl. All he had now were the faded memories of you, warped around the edges. He wasn’t sure if he got your eye color exactly right or the tone of your laugh just right, but the shape of you was there. The way you listened still gave him shivers every time he opened up the you-shaped wound in him.
Optics cycling, he drifted back into himself, taking in the bar patrons around him. Not a single one of them were like you; none of them listened long enough to even know what his favorite color was. But somewhere on Earth, there was a woman who knew it and so much more. And every time his processor wandered the stars back to visit you, his spark shattered all over again.
[Couldn't Wouldn't Love Me Pt4] Swerve x Reader - Word Count: 1,225
A/N: Sorry this took me forever kids life is crazy sometimes & I do be disabled.
WARNINGS: Alcohol Consumption (Everyone is 21+), Pining, One Mild Suggestive Moment, Swerve is a bit obsessive, bad flirting
After your last meeting with Swerve, you made a point of visiting his bar more often. It was a nice reprieve from your grueling workload as a liaison. You found yourself often longing for his chatter while typing up dull reports. Something about talking to Swerve was fun and fresh; it scratched an itch at the back of your mind. It relaxed you after a long day of uptight work, allowing you some casualness in a sea of professionalism. Today’s workload was testing your professionalism, though.
Hours had been spent typing up a tedious report of the events you had witnessed this week, highlighting basic Cybertronian culture and societal structure. This had been followed by an equally long argument with Earth’s Head Courters about weapons intel again. At one point, you had debated hanging up on them and blaming it on a bad radio connection next meeting. (Astroid belts were a common thing out here, and highly disruptive, so this wouldn’t be a hard sell.) Head Courters were insistent that they needed the Cybertronians’ scientific advances for war, but Cybertron was unwilling to provide such information, citing worries of extreme violence. Cybertron instead had given you a piece of Advanced Medical Science to share as a sign of good faith; Head Courters was not satisfied. The heated exchange finally ended when you reassured them that you would ask after the info again.
The whole time, you had longed for Swerve’s company, daydreaming of his banter and witty humor. Holding onto the ghost of him to power you through the workday. Every second that ticked by was a second closer to visiting with him, and that was the only thing you had to look forward to. As soon as the meeting's radio frequency had cut, you jumped up from your seat, unable to contain yourself any longer. All the Had-To’s were done for the day, and if anyone at work needed anything more from you, they could wait till tomorrow.
Changing into a more casual outfit, you made a beeline for what was quickly becoming your paradise: Swerve’s Bar.
“Well, look who it is,” Swerve sang as you climbed your way up onto his bar. He leaned forward, gracing you with his signature smile. Immediately, you felt yourself relax. The presence of Swerve was always comfortable, always friendly. Sometimes you wished you could have him by your side more often as a calming agent.
“Hey, Swervey,” you responded, flashing him an equally wide grin that left Swerve’s spark soaring.
Was that a nickname?! Swerve couldn’t believe his audials. You had given him a nickname! He likes it, but only from you. If anyone else dared to call him Swervey, he’d probably give them an earful, but you? You could do no wrong. He just couldn’t believe he was so important to you as to garner a nickname!
“So,” Swerve recovered from his inner gushings with a harsh vent, “what are we doing today?” Glancing around the bar to ensure Ultra Magnus wasn’t miraculously paying a visit, you focused back on Swerve. The two of you shared a moment of knowing that sparked excitement. Perhaps now was a perfect time to pull out the contraband drink options he had hidden for you.
“Wanna try something new?” you hummed lowly to him. The tone was one he imagined you would use during various domestic situations. (Not that he thought of you outside of a friendly bar setting. No, no, he would never.) But something about the tone made him think of hushed conversations before bed, and loving exchanges over breakfast. Oh, a Mech could dream. And dream he would, of every scenario you’d use that tone in, but that was something he’d tuck away later, before cycling into recharging.
“What were we thinking?” Swerve asked.
“Surprise me.”
Nodding his helm, Swerve turned on his heels to survey the contraband drink supplies. Riffling through the stash, Swerve pulled out a few items and begged his processor to come up with something. He wasn’t too familiar with human flavors, as he couldn’t consume them, but he did know the basic combos. (And lately, he had taken to looking up classic human drinks combos in his free time. But he still wasn’t prepared for something on the fly.) Finally, he decided on a margarita. Easy, classic, and definitely different from the ‘Rum and Cokes’ forced upon you by Ultra Magnus.
When Swerve turned back to you with a brightly colored drink, you made your approval clear. Taking a swig quickly, you nodded, “I like it! A classic marg.”
“Better than The Drink That Shall Not Be Named?” You burst out laughing at Swerve’s term of phrase; he really was so funny, and your thinking so elated him.
“Yes,” you confirmed, “yes, it’s so much better.” Pausing as you caught your breath, you looked him in the optics. “To be honest, I like drinks like this much better.” Staring back into your eyes, Swerve memorized that bit of knowledge. Brighter citrus drinks, tropical vibes.
“Well, I’m glad I could deliver,” Swerve rested his helm in his servo to admire the joy he had brought you, because honestly, that’s why he did this. He bartended because he liked the social aspect of it. Something about making people happy and watching them slip away from their problems for a while because of his creations fulfilled him. People always became different after a few drinks –whether for better or worse– and that was the most fun of all. Seeing this secret part of people. He’d have to say his magnum opus was doing that to you, though.
Sometimes late at night, when Swerve just couldn’t shift into recharge freely, he would think about you drunk. How you would go rosy in the cheeks, inhibitions gone as you rambled about anything and everything, a slight smile fixed to your face. He wondered how much of what you said was important or if it was nonsense. Best of all was your little hums and sighs as you got drunker (he could daydream about those noises all night while doing shameful things if he wanted to).
Thoughts of you could change his mood in seconds, making him happy and relaxed with just a recollection of your laugh. Because of this, he often found himself longing to keep you with him at all times. Unfortunately for Swerve, he couldn’t bring himself to ask about hanging out outside of the bar. Perhaps he just wasn’t meant to be happy.
“Hello? Swerve,” your voice called as his optics refocused on the moment before him. There you were sitting on his bar, sucking down your margarita. Primus, how long had he been internal monologuing for?! You were nearly done! “Get a little lost there?” you joked.
“Yeah, I was just thinking,” Swerve shrugged, trying to play it off. Act cool, Swerve.
“Thinking about what?” you prodded, curious about what had enraptured the minibot so intensely. If he found something that interesting, you just had to know about it.
“About what it would be like hanging out with you one-on-one outside of the bar,” was the automatic response that left Swerve’s intake. Why would he say that?! He hoped he would miraculously go offline right then and there.
“Yeah, sure,” you agreed without missing a beat. Those two words nearly did offline Swerve.
Would you write a fem human x IDW Vortex? Maybe an angsty one where she’s calm and collected and he does things to get a reaction out of her but he doesn’t get much. She’s been kidnapped, sold, basically treated so poorly that what Vortex does doesn’t feel too different.
A/N: Can do! I'm not too familiar with Vortex (I do know the basics tho) so he might be slightly OOC. But hope you enjoy! This took so long to write because I was trying to get him just right lol.
[ Intel ] IDW Vortex x Reader - Word Count: 610
WARNINGS: Kidnapping, Endangerment, Light Torture, Man-Handling of Human Captive
Vortex knew how to make any bot talk; it was only a matter of time and technique. It was an ability he prided himself on. So when Megatron came to him with orders to use his talents on a human, he gladly agreed. If he could make any bot talk, a human would be an easy task. He would have the intel Megatron needed in no time.
He started by snatching you in an alleyway; no words, all harsh movement. Grabbing you with just enough force to leave bruises and jostle the breath out of you. Your panic lasted only briefly, dying on your face as soon as you made eye contact with him. “Oh, good, thought you were an actual threat for a second,” you spat out as you caught your breath. Your boldness surprised him; you had fire for such a small being. No matter, he would squash it from you in time. Pushing you into himself as he transformed, he slammed you into a seat before strapping you in tightly.
The straps of the helicopter harness bit into your skin as you let out a chuckle, “always wanted a helicopter ride.” Vortex didn’t bother with a response; he didn’t need to, he simply took off. The less he said, the more your feeble human mind ate away at itself. Sometimes one's own mind was their worst enemy. “Not much of a conversationalist, huh?” You reached out to stroke the inside of his alt form, casually invading his space. This was like a spit in Vortex’s space.
Why didn’t you fear him? He would have to fix this. Teach you some respect towards him and his talents. No more of this laid-back attitude. He will make sure you fear him and his touch. To correct your bold action, he decided to shock you hard enough to get you to pull your hand back. Good.
Shaking your hand slightly, you simply laughed again, “static electricity, very scary.” Fuming, Vortex held his tongue. He didn’t want you to have the satisfaction of knowing your words offended him. Instead, Vortex decided to make his first hard push to instill fear. Just enough of a push to make sure you thought twice, to create a pause. It was a small, simple tactic, but effective; he killed his engine and let himself plummet.
There was no screaming. No thrashing. You barely flinched. With a growl, Vortex transformed last second before hitting the ground. He rolled, making sure to scuff you along the dirt for extra effect before taking off again. He took a moment to delight in your road-rashed skin.
“So what is all this about anyway,” you shrugged. “I thought maybe you were kidnapping me, but now I’m starting to think you were sent here to rough me up. But for what? I’m not a real threat to you as a small human… which would lead me to believe you would like knowledge.”
“Observant,” Vortex finally grunted out at you. He refused to give you more than that.
“So I’m right,” you smirked, kicking your feet up onto his flight dashboard. “In that case, you need me alive to tell you things. Meaning you can’t kill me.”
“Somethings are worse than death,” Vortex responded. And you had the audacity to laugh, the sound grating on Vortex’s audials.
“I’ve been beaten, stolen, held hostage, and pushed within an inch of my life for the Autobot cause. Nothing you can do to me will be any worse.” Vortex didn’t know whether to take that as a challenge or a threat. Either way, he realized his job was much harder than he had ever suspected.
Hey! Could you write something for Ironfist (lsotw) with a gn reader? Preferably just fluff. Thank you and have a nice day!!
A/N: Ah Ironfist, my underrated boy. I would love to write something for him. I hope I do right by him :] ( Also you're in luck I alway try write my readers GN.)
[#1 Fan Pt 1] IDW Ironfist x Reader - Word Count: 765
WARNINGS: Guns & Ballistics mentioned (that's kind of Ironfist's whole job) He's gonna get an online partner
Ironfist loved his blog; it was his one passion. When he wasn’t at work, he was working on his next entry or responding to other users' comments. It really had taken a life of its own. He poured precious time and energy into it, and in turn, it brought him joy. The blog took almost every ounce of his free time, but it was worth it.
With a flourish of his digits, the datapad came to life, displaying the paragraph he left off on. The newest file release on the Wreckers was juicy, and Ironfist was obsessed. He had read through each file with care, annotating his thoughts in the margins and highlighting the important plot points. They were so action-packed, requiring his utmost attention to detail to catalogue them with any type of justice. Just as he was settling in for another stint of reading, his datapad pinged with a message request.
The message read: ‘Have you seen the newest release of Wrecker files?! Absolutely crazy! Can’t wait to see what Fisitron writes about it! Xoxo Your #1 Fan’
Ironfist’s spark stuttered; he couldn’t believe he was receiving fan mail! He was used to comments and likes, with an occasional dip into the deep forums; he was not used to direct messages fawning over his work. This was new.
And exciting.
Quickly opening the chat, he typed a quick message back. ‘I completely agree! So many details to fit into one post… I may have to split it up into a multipart.’
The response was immediate. ‘Yesssss! I know you’ll do a great job.’
Ironfist wanted to kick his peds like a youngling, but resisted the urge. He was a grown mech, and he could handle this professionally. But he did allow himself a second to relish in the fact that he was popular enough to have fans who were bold enough to call themselves #1 before focusing back on the task at hand. These files needed to be read and written into manuscripts with commentary.
This task took him a few days, as always. Ironfist was thorough with his original read-through and annotation of the files. With these notes, he would write out his blog posts, which were practically full dissertations complete with footnotes. By the time he finished his writing for this section of the files, he realized he was correct: it would have to be split into multiple parts. Because Ironfist had a bad habit of not being able to stop himself once he started. The words would fly from his fingertips, and his processor would produce sentence after sentence of pure gold. Everything would weave together into a graphic telling of the events that even a simple bot could understand. It was impressive, even to Ironfist, but always resulted in huge blog posts that he often had to splice into parts.
With a satisfied vent, he started formatting his writing into sections (making sure to leave off on convenient cliffhangers to keep his readers coming back). Headers were added, and footnotes inserted. Then he plugged them into his blog, queuing one part to post each day, with the first section posting immediately. Before hitting the final submit button, he paused. Impulsively, he added a little blurb at the top of the first section, ‘For my #1 Fan’s consideration.’ Then hit post before he could overthink it.
Insecurity coiled somewhere deep within his tanks, underneath all the false confidence. Finally, he picked himself up off his habsuite floor and went to the wash racks. Giving himself something to do was better than unchecked dreading. He needed a clean anyway, he had gone straight from work to blog writing. If he didn’t clean the ballistic residue off his plating, his berth would smell like guns and sterilizer; something he loathed. Ironfist preferred to keep work and home life separate; it made for a better night's sleep. (Dreams of offline bots were haunting, to say the least.)
After a wash, he made his way back to his habsuite, where his datapad was waiting. It sat there menacingly staring at him, daring him to unlock it. One half of him wanted to, and the other feared that his anonymous #1 Fan hated his latest piece of work. Ironfist was 100% certain that if they rejected his newest installation, he would quit his blog altogether. Why did he have to go and dedicate this piece to an internet stranger?
Before he could move it the screen flashed to life as a notification came through: ‘Just finished the first section… OH MY PRIMUS I LOVE IT!’
I know I've posted a lot today, but I have an announcement to make. Thank you SO much to everyone who submitted Valentine's Day requests! I didn't know I had that many active followers/people who enjoyed my work.
With that being said: I have been taking a lot of asks & not really working on my series. So for the time being, I will be closing my asks so I can make at least one new part for each of my series. I'm also working on two new series/pieces based on 2 asks I received last week. (So if you're waiting on a Vortex or Ironfist ask from me, I promise it's coming, it just got way more involved than a one-shot.)
Hang on tight, y'all I'll still be posting content, just not taking in any new asks at this time. I will let you know when my ask box reopens! –Mod
IDW Fort Max x Ultra Magnus stargazing on a planet the Lost Light is visiting, perhaps in a universe where Max didn’t leave the crew immediately. They’re sweet to each other but suck at pda, so no one knows they’re together until maybe someone catches them holding hands when they’re not looking.
A/N: Sure can! You kind of wrote the blueprint of this for me! I tried to beef it up a little bit, but tbh I'm losing steam here... I think I got 11 total asks. So I hope you enjoy!
Fort Max x Ultra Magnus Valentines - Word Count: 212
No one would have suspected they were together. Nothing about the way they interacted screamed lovers. Yet, that's exactly how they liked it. They weren't big on PDA or having people badgering them about the other. If anyone asked, they would answer honestly, but no one had even thought to. Because Fort Max and Ultra Magnus weren't a couple. Right?
The entire Lost Light crew was shocked to find out that they were, in fact, in a relationship. Proven by the fact that Rewind had caught them holding hands on the way out onto the open deck of the ship. (Once there, they had stargazed for hours.) Rewind had caught the whole thing on camera and was now touting it around the Lost Light as a hot piece of gossip.
"This is my favorite part," Rewind laughed as he played the clip he had for what felt like the billionth time. In the clip, Ultra Magnus's helm slowly lowered onto Fort Max's shoulder. In return, Fort Max reached up to cup Ultra Magnus's face. It was a moment of affection when they thought no one was looking.
Now it was being displayed for the whole ship to see. They were in for a big surprise next time anyone saw either of them.
