Oooo can we get knockout with a reader who's a total fashionista and and who takes pride in how well kept they are maybe they could even talk about how different beauty standards are between humans and Cybertronian and what similarities they share I think it could be really interesting and maybe reader could try and do his makeup maybe causes he's got a date with breakdown later I'm also gonna be a regular on this blog so I'm dubbing myself 🦔anon ✌️
YESSSS I LOVE WRITING ANYTHING THAT INVOLVES KNOCKOUT!!
Human, GN!Reader and Knockout friendship things, Reader is a stylist
The whir of polishing drones hummed in the background like white noise. Knockout stood in front of a towering mirror pane bolted into the far wall of his personal workspace. A warm, luminescent gloss shimmered across his cherry-red plating, gleaming with effort and precision.
You lounged nearby on a sleek countertop, legs crossed, flipping through a digital fashion magazine you’d downloaded onto your tablet. When Knockout stepped back and made an admiring hum at his own reflection, you glanced up, grinning.
“Breakdown’s gonna short a few circuits when he sees you tonight.”
Knock Out turned his helm slightly toward you, optics bright with amusement. “Of course he is. As if I would present myself in anything less than perfection.”
You set your tableg down on the counter and stood up, walking towards the area of the counter that was closer to him to get a better look.
“Hmm... I’ve gotta ask. Do Cybertronians have makeup? Like, real cosmetic stuff? Not just polish and detailing work.”
“You mean like your powders and creams? Not quite. Our version of ‘makeup’ is more about finishings—electro-lacquers, nano-gloss, energon-reactive detailing pigments. Some bots even use microprojected surface modulations for dramatic effect. But all of it’s tailored for our materials and sensory feedback.”
You stepped around him, studying the smooth lines of his armor. “Human skin care would probably melt off your faceplates anyway.”
He chuckled. “And your eyeliner would fry if I applied it to my servos.”
“Hmm...” you thoguht for a moment, then, reaching into your tote, you pulled out a compact palette. “Wanna see how a human does it? I can't really use any of my products but I can use this paint over here.”
Knockout tilted his helm, visibly intrigued. “Why not? I do love a muse with taste.” He bent at the knee so his face was closer to your level.
You smiled as you stepped up to a rolling stool and climbed on for height. With a small paint brush by the large bucket of silver chrome paint, you traced along the smooth line beneath his optic.
“You know,” you said, working with a practiced hand, “beauty’s kind of a battlefield here on earth. For humans, I mean. There’s this endless pressure to be effortlessly perfect, to be symmetrical, flawless, young… And the irony is, perfection isn’t even the goal anymore—uniqueness is.”
Knockout hummed thoughtfully. “Sounds familiar. We judge based on polish, functionality, frame work… but there’s still that pursuit of individuality. I’m admired because I make style the standard. Others just chase practicality.” He glanced at your hand. “This paint you’re using—not exactly my usual gold accent but I like it.”
You nodded. “It’s meant to bring out your optics. If I had your kind of canvas, I’d use something with a chrome shimmer or ultraviolet underglow. Something that reflects movement. Afterall, you are all about the drama.”
“Flattery gets you everywhere,” he purred. “Tell me, would humans ever paint themselves entirely in one color, like we do? It seems efficient.”
“Not usually,” you said, stepping back to admire your design. “Think monochrome fashion, or full-body paint. But we also obsess over contrast. Complexion, undertones, hair, texture… Humans are all about combining layers and highlighting flaws as features. It’s chaos, but it works.”
He thought for a moment, picturing that in his head. “Fascinating. And yet here you are, painting me like a canvas.”
You grinned. “Because you’re beautiful, Knockout. And I’m a stylist. It’s what we do.”
He straightened, optics glowing with something halfway between pride and soft amusement. “Breakdown’s going to fall over himself when he sees this.”
“Tell him I charge for full face beats." You teased, putting the brush away with the paint. Knockout turned slightly to admire the design in his mirror—sparkly silver contouring, a subtle sweep up like sharp eyeliner wings, dramatic but elegant.
“You know,” he said slowly, “I should bring you along on more missions. Keep the aesthetic standards of this faction from falling into the gutter.” You smiled, flattered that the fashionista of the Decepticons was flattering your work. "Only if I get hazard pay for working around all the unpolished scrap metal you call coworkers."
He laughed, full and genuine, and for a moment, the sterile, med bay felt like the inside of a luxury salon.
I hope you like it! I'm still figuring out my writing style but I'm getting the hang of things! <3
