I Do My Hair Toss, Paint My Nails
Bayverse Transformers x Reader Blurbs
Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language
Author's Note: I fucking wrote TF fanfiction omg. Enjoy! -Thorne
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Ironhide:
It’s only the fourth glance she takes out the window that has her nail tech snorting. “Are you worried someone is going to steal your boyfriend’s truck?”
She startles at his words, barely missing the drill bit going into her skin around her nail as she replies, “Huh?”
“You keep looking at the truck,” he says. “It’s your boyfriend’s, isn’t it?”
Her cheeks begin to warm as she swipes a fifth glance at the black GMC. “What makes you say it’s my boyfriend’s? It could be mine.”
“Please. You work in private security. And I know you drive a pink Porsche.” He takes his own look at the truck. “It’s a nice one. It is your boyfriend’s, right?”
“Something like that,” she replies as he dips the brush into the acrylic and begins to lay it over her nails.
He snorts again. “Okay, Miss Mysterious, keep it secret.”
She gives a smile as he continues to work on her nails and she admires them when they’re done, a sleek black stiletto. “Thank you, Ray.”
Giving a mock bow, he replies, “I do my best. Now off with you.”
Waving, she steps outside and nears the driver’s side of the truck, only to be caught off by a sports car slowing to a stop beside her.
“Hey baby,” the man greets, practically hanging outside of the window. “Where you headed?”
She blinks, offering a deadened stare and grips the door handle. “Nowhere you are. Have a nice day.”
“Now don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he replies with a smirk and starts to get out, but he stops when the truck rumbles with a violent noise. “What the fuck?”
“Easy, Ironhide,” she murmurs, and opens the driver’s door. “Have a lovely day.” Shutting and locking the door, she’s thankful that Ironhide’s windows are tinted and watches as the car pulls away in a hurry.
“You okay?” Ironhide asks. “I can always blast their tailpipe in.”
She laughs. “Thank you, but I think they got the message.”
“Hmm, I disagree, but I’ll take your word for it,” his voice hums through his speakers as he pulls off onto the street. “What did you do in there? You were gone for an hour and a half.”
“Oh, I got my nails painted!” she chirps and flashes her hands down. “See, I painted them black like your paint.”
This time, Ironhide rumbles but it’s with a subtle pride as he compliments, “As beautiful as my weapons, love.”
“Thank you,” she smiles and leans forward, pressing her lips to the center of the steering wheel. “How about we take a drive out of the city?”
“I think that’s a fantastic idea,” he replies and turns off to the main highway pointing out of the city.
***
Rachet:
“I do not understand the process of painting your nails,” Rachet comments as he watches her gently apply a mustard yellow to her nails.
“Which part don’t you understand, big guy?” she replies, not looking up, focusing intently.
“Perhaps it is more so I don’t understand why.”
“Why?”
He nods and gets closer, staring at her hands. “Why are you painting them?”
She looks up at him. “Why me specifically or why do humans paint nails?”
Rachet takes a moment to ponder her question. “Both.”
Sticking her hand under the small gel light, she answers, “Most people paint their nails as a form of self-expression. Others do so as it’s fashionable. Some just do manicures and pedicures to stay groomed. Think of it like you and the others maintaining your own bodies and staying in good condition.” She starts on the other hand when the first is cured. “Some cultures have historic context with painting nails or the length of nails and it’s symbolic to their people.”
“And what of you?” he asks.
“I guess mine is more so expression and maintenance. I work a lot so I can’t always have my nails maintained the way I want, y’know painted and with length. But I always try to keep them clean and nice looking.” She smiles as she paints a red line through them. “Sometimes I’m lucky enough that I get to paint them pretty.”
At that, Rachet tips his head a bit to see. “I’m no human but I do not think red and yellow are technically considered ‘pretty.’”
She gives him a fond look and pokes his nose with her cured pointer. “Really? Because I painted them to look like a similar Autobot I know. Or did you forget you’re red and yellow?”
He coughs slightly and looks away. “Well, now that you mention such a thing.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re flustered, Rachet.”
“Nonsense,” he retorts as he stands up straight, and she has to crane her neck to see him. “Autobots don’t get flustered.”
“I think you’re leaking oil, big guy,” she teases, and he turns hurriedly, patting himself down.
“What! Where!”
“I’m joking,” she says with a grin. “Still set on not being embarrassed?”
***
Bumblebee:
She sits at the station next to Bumblebee as he fumbles with the metal Rubik’s cube she had made for him. “What color should I paint my nails, Bee?” she asks, opening the case, and she really shouldn’t be painting her nails at work, but considering most of the higher ups are in meetings and the facility is a ghost town, she doesn’t have much to do.
Bumblebee looks down, optics zooming in on each color she lifts up for him to see.
“I’ve got blue…red…black…ooo, what about green?” she offers a deep evergreen up and he scowls and shakes his head. “No?”
He sticks a finger into the case and carefully digs around until he pulls out a tiny tube and hands it to her.
“This one?” she asks and looks at the bottle. “Sunrise Yellow,” she says and looks at him. “It matches you.”
This time he gives her a smile of pride and hands her the black bottle as well, gesturing to her middle and ring fingers.
“You want these ones painted black and the others yellow?”
“Yeah baby!” the line from a comedy movie comes over his voice and she snorts.
“Okay, Bee,” she answers and opens the bottles. “Nails that look like you coming up.” she watches as he grins to himself and dances slightly. “You keep it up, Bee, and everyone is going to know you like me.” She pauses and looks at her hands with a deadpan stare. “Actually, they’re going to think I like you.”
He bends down and gets face to face with her. “You do like me.” The words are easy enough to decipher in his rumbles and she looks away.
“Get outta heeya,” she mocks with warm cheeks, and he laughs at her. “Hey, you better stop laughing at me, or do you not remember how you practically tripped over yourself when I wore a dress the other day and you weren’t paying attention. Ran right into the high-beam and maintenance is still working on fixing it.”
At that, his battle visors come down and he hides his face as embarrassed rumbles escape him; she takes the opportunity to slide up onto his leg and sit with a smile as she paints her nails.
***
Optimus:
She greets the soldiers around her with a smile as she enters the facility and wanders back to her desk to set her things down. It’s only a few moments before Lennox finds his way to her desk and simply stands in front of it until she looks up. “Good morning, Will.”
“You’re late,” he retorts and crosses his arms over his chest. “We had training this morning. And you missed it.”
“And I think you forget I was transferred to private security.” She smiles amusedly. “I don’t work for the military anymore.”
He rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you get out and you turn into a completely different person.”
“I am not. Excuse me for enjoying not waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to go running.” She turns on her computer and sorts some paperwork on her desk. “I had an appointment if it appeases your annoyance, your royal eminence.”
“Oh, it’s not me that needs to be appeased. It’s a certain Autobot that was worried about your lateness,” he teases as she feels her cheeks heat up.
She gives him a surprised but pleasant look. “Optimus was worried about me?”
She knows she’s said too much when Lennox’s face splits into a smirk and he gloats, “I fuckin’ knew it was Optimus. Epps thought it was Sideswipe.” His grins grows as she throws her pen at him and he saunters off with, “Guys owe me fifty.”
A few minutes pass as the embarrassment begins to fade when a noise startles her and she lets out a groan and gripes, “William, go awa—Optimus!” she hides her files on her desk as if it will take away the fluster she feels. “I—I didn’t know you were there.”
The Autobot leader bends down to get level with her. “You weren’t at training this morning,” he notes, and she can’t help how her neck disappears into her shoulders.
“I was busy…I had an appointment.”
“Oh?” He blinks, blue optics watching her carefully. “Was it a medical appointment? Are you well?”
“I’m fine,” she replies. “I went to go get my nails done.”
He blinks again, this time almost confused as he asks, “Your…nails?”
She shows her hands, and he lowers his, gently taking both of hers in one; they only rest on one finger as he examines them. “In human culture, men and women paint their finger and toenails different colors. It’s called manicure and pedicure. I have acrylic nails. Made from acrylic glass and hardened with a liquid monomer. It creates a hardened surface that can be drilled and painted. Like mine.”
Optimus looks them over before he murmurs almost uncharacteristically quiet, “They are painted like my paint.”
Her cheeks warm and she looks away. “I…know we can’t exactly be open…people wouldn’t understand but…I just thought it would be a romantic gesture I guess.”
“I am honored,” he says with a smile. “They are painted beautifully…like you.”
“Optimus,” she replies with a warm smile. “Thank you.”
