oh pls kind revel of the hellsite, another part of hello helicopter is all i ask, if it’s not too much to do right now (i can imagine what with how many ppl are sending asks, rightfully so you’re out here carrying half the transformers fanbase)
-Blitz anon (idk if ppl sign their anon here but I saw some1 do it b4 so I thought it couldn’t hurt to try)
Sure! I’ve seen a few of you sign off on anon. Dub-c0n storyline
Hello Helicopter Pt 7
TFA Blitzwing x Reader
• Staring at his back as fine tremors roll through his big frame, you blow out a breath before taking a drink of your water. Aware that you should be plotting your escape instead of feeling almost sorry for your kidnapping, alien situationship. Just like you know that the broken, tragic ones are your own brand of kryptonite. That no matter how many times you’ve been burned, you still want to try and fix him. This one, though? So much worse than even your worst boyfriend. Literally insane.
• You’re staring at him as he shudders, scrabbling for control. Can feel you staring. Judging. And he’s furious at you for seeing him like this. Wants to make it a joke. Ignore it. Lash out. “Were you always like this?” You ask softly and his jaw clenches, feeling himself spiral. Do you really think you mean anything to him? You were an experience. A reward. A pretty, little distraction. You’re his. Doesn’t want to talk to you. To understand you or for you to understand him. To know you any deeper than the feel of your body under his. “Blitzy?” Servos denting the metal of his berth, a growl rumbles through him at your audacity. That you think you can give him a nickname. The nearly hysterical giggle of delight at being called Blitzy that escapes him just annoys him even more.
• “Be silent or I’ll silence you,” he snarls, but the hostility is ruined when he cackles out “Blitzy.” Sitting crosslegged on his berth, you wad up the empty pretzel packet. Giving up on escape until you can figure out a way down that doesn’t involve broken bones and a possible concussion. One of his wings scrapes against the berth as he draws his legs up, curling slightly and the vulnerability of that pose prickles through you. Know you should stay silent. That he’s a feral dog that’s going to bite you.
• “Sometimes talking about stuff helps,” you say and he shoves upright, head turning to glare at you as his precarious control frays. Why won’t you stop? ‘Talking?’ He growls, personalities swapping. ‘Or we could sing a song!’ And he’s lunging for you as your eyes widen and you scramble to your feet. Angry, lonely, delighted by the fear in your eyes as he mass shifts and hauls himself up with you. Stalking you as you back away and the chaos grows. Anger and arousal twisting together. Confusing him on what he wants.
• Back hitting the wall as he snarls, big denta bared and expression furious, you reach without thinking. Aware that he’s dangerous. Out of control and violent. And maybe as frightened as you are. He’s still so much bigger than you are even in this smaller form. Huge really. Heart racing as he snarls, you hug him and you feel his plating lift slightly against you. Before a huge fist slams against the wall as you hide your face against him. Flinching when he smacks his head against the wall beside your shoulder, he’s trembling again. Snarling and wheezing out laughter. So broken and angry. Hands sliding against his sides as you tremble, he smacks his head against the wall again. But he’s not hurting you. Those big hands aren’t touching you at all. Taking out his fury on his room instead of you.
so uh- I was wondering if the ‘hello helicoper!’ Story is still being written? It’s totally fine if not! Was just wondering if whenever you get the time, we could perhaps have a part 6? ^^
(I say we as in the 5 remaining tfa Blitzwing fans 💔)
It is! I’m just easily distracted
Hello Helicopter Pt 6
TFA Blitzwing x Reader
• He’s quiet, sprawled on his back on his berth with his legs hanging in the messy floor. Maybe asleep, though you’re not sure if giant alien robots sleep. Eating a pretzel as quietly as you can, you slowly stand and make a circuit around the desk you’re trapped on, looking for a way down and there’s a pile of clutter, including a whole school bus against the wall you might be able to jump to without hurting yourself. It’s steep enough that you also might hit and roll all the way down, falling and breaking your neck before you can catch yourself.
• Optics shuttered, he listens to your soft noises. Trying to compartmentalize his thoughts and emotions. To find some semblance of balance and control. And knowing he won’t. The procedure that made him a triple changer broke him, shattered his psyche. It’s a strange thing, to be aware that’s he’s insane. Reaching up, he stares at his own hand, feeling the other two just there. Him, but not. His own body alien to him sometimes. They’re whispering to him even though he doesn’t want them, always whispering. “I wouldn’t,” he says, head turning and you freeze at the edge of desk. I would, whispers through him. Grimacing he drapes his arm across his face.
• Heart racing, you reach for another pretzel with trembling fingers and eat it. He hasn’t swapped, the indifferent, cold one staying in control. That one, you might be able to reason with. The other two personalities? Not so much. “What is it you want from me?” See his lip curl, but he’s silent aside from a low rumble. What would that be like? To be that broken? Or is he? Maybe this is just how he is. He seems pretty frustrated, though. Almost like he’s fighting with himself at times. ‘I want nothing from you, human,’ he mutters. But if that was true why keep you?
• “Are you okay?” Head turning to glare at you, that fast, he’s lost control. ‘What do you care?’ He snarls, another personality seizing control. Shutting him out as anger flares through him. You don’t get to ask that. To pity him. Doesn’t need it or you. ‘You think we’re friends now? You’re nothing,’ he growls, shoving upright and something whispers through him at your expression. Guilt? Shuddering as his clawed servos gouge into the berth, the other one slips in. ‘Mad, mad. Mad as a hatter,’ he cackles and he doesn’t even understand the words. ‘Friends with benefits.’
• And he’s just laughing hysterically as you make a face at him. “Never mind,” you mutter, walking over and wrestling a bottle of water loose from the broken vending machine. ‘Are you going to fix me?’ He croons between fits of laughter and you scowl, goosebumps lifting over your arms when you look over and see his face switching over and over, his expression almost tormented. No. You’re absolutely not going to feel sorry for this kidnapping lunatic. He’s not some lost puppy, he’s a giant, psychotic killing machine. Flinching when he slams a fist against the berth before rolling over, back to you, you blow out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Sitting down crosslegged, you twist the cap off the water. “Why did you take me?” You ask almost against your will. ‘Was bored,’ he snarls, while frame shuddering as metal scrapes against metal. Bored or lonely? Doubt even he knows which, though.
Hello helicopter, have you heard the news? No one gives a shit about the things they do. We all waste and consume, destroy and ruin everything we touch. It’s easy not to think when you’re not told that much
