Notes: its a Knockout-Centric Fic with a human OC. Breakdown is alive and well. Optimus is alive and well. Set in the Prime Universe: Post Predacons Rising, Pre-RID15
[Chapter 1 Here] [Chapter 3 here]
enjoy my scribbles ✌️
Two weeks later...
Though he’d loathe to admit it, Knockout had returned to that parking spot three times in the last two weeks. Not that he was counting. His excuse to himself was that it was a pleasant covert spot in the shade. The weather was pleasant in this area at this time of year and he deserved a break.
It was merely a coincidence that it was also the way the human artist walked.
He had only seen them once in his last three attempts. They had been walking with a femmine human and didn’t notice him. Not that it bothered him.
Today, it was exactly two weeks after their first meeting. Same time. Same place. Sure enough, they came walking down the hill. When they were about 20 meters away, they finally noticed him.
In Knockout’s rear view mirror, he saw them smile brightly. They didn’t run over exactly, but their posture straightened instantly. The human paused in their stride for a moment. “Hello again, pretty boy.” With nothing more than a flirty finger wave at the car, they continued down the street.
That was it? What a tease.
…
Against his better judgment, Knockout looked up the username the human had given him. He was very familiar with social media. He used it occasionally to find races and fellow car enthusiasts.
Their account was mostly art stuff. Some occasional rambling posts. Scattered memes.
He learned their name was Kylan and they were an art student at the local university. They liked drawing various cool things they found around town. There was a text post referencing a gorgeous red sports car that they forgot to take a photo of.
Attached to that post was a rough approximation of what he looked like. It wasn’t as good as the one they did live, but considering it was from memory- it wasn’t bad. The detailing on his doors was completely wrong.
He scoffed. The purple scribbles they had added made him look like an illegible death metal band logo. Much less elegant than his custom pattern.
“My decals do not look like that.” He commented indignantly.
“Knockout. Darling,” Breakdown’s voice came behind him followed by two large servos on his hips. “What’s got you so revved up? I could hear you from across the bay.”
He minimized the tab quickly. “Nothing!” He looked up at his Conjux. Even leaning down to accommodate his ample chest, Breakdown was still taller. “Just a personal project.”
“You know I support your car junkie addiction… you don’t have to hide it from me.”
“It’s not an addiction. I can stop whenever I choose to.” He huffed. Knockout placed a kiss on his chin. He traced his servos down to intertwine with his partner’s. “If you want to talk about addiction…” he moved both their hands up his torso. “I could go for another polishing soon.”
The larger mech moved closer to press against him. “Hm… That could be arranged. I just got-”
Knockout’s computer pinged. His screens popped back up with the social media interface to let him know he had a notification.
It was a direct message.
“ OMG! It’s you! I thought maybe the drawing got blown away with all the wind. I hope it made you smile! “
“‘Drawing?’” Breakdown read aloud.
Knockout sighed dramatically. “Can we go back to my seamless distraction?”
The Stunticon looked between the screen and his Conjux several times. “After you show it to me. Have you been sneaking off to be a secret art model?”
“Not yet. I am playing the long game.” He wriggled out of his partner's embrace to walk over to his storage crate. It was mostly full of polishes, buffers and other beauty supplies. He picked up a small glass case. Knockout revealed it to Breakdown with a flourish. “A human left that on my window. Evidently, they were so taken by my lustrous finish that they couldn’t help themself from stopping to admire me.”
Breakdown leaned down to look at the tiny image. He squinted.
“And, they know I’m… not a car.”
He raised a brow. “You showed them your root mode?”
“Of course not. They just… know? They thanked me for letting them draw me– not that I had much choice in the matter. They didn’t ask permission.” He huffed through his vents. “They just knew.”
“And… your solution… is to stalk them?”
“It’s not stalking!” Knockout huffed. “They gave me their username with the drawing. Clearly, they wanted this.”
Breakdown took a deep vent in and out.
“I can handle it.” He placed the image back in his crate. Spinning on his wheels, he turned back to him. He reached up to pull him down to eye level.
“Be careful. For their sake, and yours.” Breakdown brought Knockout’s hand up to his eye patch. The hard gray metal contrasted his orange protoflesh. It was a stark reminder for both of them of past mistakes.
“I will, BD.” He smiled at his partner. “Trust me. This isn’t some Hollywood blockbuster. Nothing drastic is going to happen.”
…
After they started messaging online, Knockout was easily able to trace their IP address to know where they lived but he had never actually driven by their house.
Today was the day he finally got curious enough to look. Kylan lived in an old town house. It was white with brown shutters and looked like a scrap heap.He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected to find but there was no obvious sign of the human. It’s not like he could go up to ring the doorbell to ask for them.
The Aston Martin parked across the street and settled down. He must’ve slipped into power down mode because when he woke up, it was dark out.
There was another slip of paper on his dashboard. He smiled to himself.
Glancing up, he saw the lights on in the second story of the human’s house. Zooming in, he could see Kylan sitting at their desk drawing. They had headphones on, wiggling back and forth to whatever they were listening to.
Knockout never really understood human’s relationship with music. Of course, they were good at it. There were plenty of songs he liked the sounds of. It seemed to affect their species more. He could ask their resident radio wiz about it, but he didn’t want to give Bumblebee that satisfaction.
With that, he pulled out of his spot. He headed to his favorite hiding spot and slid under the gas station canopy.
Knockout pulled the slip of paper out of his plating. This time, it was in a yellow-ish envelope. The artist was upping their game. How fancy, he purred to himself as he pulled out the piece of paper inside.
His optics narrowed at the tiny image.
“A parking ticket!?”
…
Over the next month, Knockout learned that they came home at approximately the same time every Thursday. This wasn’t always because he was there. Their posts had consistency at that time as well.
The Autobots kept him busy with various tasks around their new base. Ratchet always needed an extra hand, even if he didn’t want one. Arcee was still tense around the former-Decepticon but things were easing up. She had gone from openly hostile to occasional glaring. Agent Fowler was a similar story. Whenever the other two sports cars returned from Cybertron, they’d burn rubber until someone sprained something. Then, they’d get another lecture from Ratchet.
Overall, life after the war was pleasant, though strange. There wasn’t anyone threatening him every other minute of the day. He was allowed to just be.
Integrating Breakdown into the team was more of a to-do. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were not keen on the idea. But, with time and conversation, they came to a mutual understanding.
The ex-Decepticons got their own remote warehouse. Originally, they had been staying with all the Autobots, but that lasted about 2 weeks before someone put in a noise complaint. Their little home away from home gave them some much needed space from the other bots. It was dinghy but it was theirs.
Knockout leaned against a crate as he stared at the blankest wall of their space. It was gray metal, like the landscapes of Cybertron. It was distinctly not light the bright colors of the planet he currently resided on. Over time, he had become quite attached to the rainbow of hues that made up Earth’s environment.
“Breakdown,” He called to his conjux, “I think it’s about time we got some color in here.”
Hyperchroma looooves shiny sparkley things but is TERRIFIED of fireworks. Call her Icarus the way she flew too close to the sun ONE TIME and learned a hard lesson. In this case, the sun is a firework.
Livewire finds standard Telsa's unsettling in a way that is very uncanny valley. That car is just wrong enough to fill her with dread. Don't get her started on Cybertrucks.
Rory Magellan refuses to do any costume that is not also part Garfield. They also probably eat paint idk
@deliicacymercy made this amazing fanart for the fic snip-it I posted of Rory, so who am I to deny them the full chapter.
Here's the first chapter of "The Knack," my Transformers OC fic.
Notes: its a Knockout-Centric Fic with a human OC. Breakdown is alive and well. Optimus is alive and well. Set in the Prime Universe: Post Predacons Rising, Pre-RID15 (or disregarding RID15 in general)
Chapter 1: Never Happened
“Knockout. Are you coming back soon?” Breakdown asked through his radio.
“Soon enough.” He replied. Even though he was in vehicle mode, it sounded as if he was gritting his dentaplates. “I have a human watching me.”
His partner laughed through the intercom. “What? Afraid to blow you’re cover? You’ve never cared about that slag before. Where are you?”
“Sending my coordinates. I was on my way home but ran into some… trouble. I’m trying to keep a low profile. This human looks like a screamer.”
“Speeding again?”
“Bingo, BD. This area is flooded with human law enforcement vehicles. I swear it’s like there’s one on every corner… Prime said we’re supposed to be ‘robots in disguise.’ If I make another scene Ratchet will make me do hotspot duty. Again.”
“Right. Well-”
“Finally! The human is leaving. Knockout; Out.” He ended the transmission quickly as the human in question walked closer to the car. Instead of continuing down the sidewalk, they stopped next to Knockout’s side mirror. They pulled a piece of paper off the thing they had been fiddling with, then flipped it over and scribbled something on the back.
It took everything Knockout had not to smack them away as they lifted up one of his windshield wipers and tucked the paper neatly under it. He was trying to be a better bot. If he kept causing issues, the Autobots might have second thoughts about giving him so much freedom. He remained tense as the human placed their hand on his hood.
“Don’t see many beauties like you around here.” They said under their breath. “Thanks for letting me draw you. Love the sticker thing.” Then, they patted his hood and walked away.
Knockout sat there for a moment stunned. First, yes, he was quite beautiful. More humans should be like this one and notice that. Second, they had spoken to him. Not at him. Not to some fake driver. Him. Third, they had touched him. Their grubby little human fingerprints were no doubt on his hood now. He was going to have to pull over and fix that before returning to base. Not to mention whatever it was that they stuck under his window wiper. It was terribly itchy.
Still, he watched them turn the corner down the street. He had many questions. Were any of them worth pursuing? The blinking missed message from Breakdown on his dash told him no.
“Stay out of trouble, Speedster.” The text read.
He turned on his engine then rolled out. He would stay out of trouble… for now.
…
Knockout pulled over at an abandoned gas station far outside the city. He ran a quick scan and found no incoming vehicles in the immediate proximity. He was far enough from the highway to be out of sight as long as he remained under the canopy. He took a ‘running’ start and flipped into robot mode inches before ducking under cover.
First thing first; he pulled the thin sheet from between his plating. It had ended up in his abdomen under his central chest plate but it was easy enough to remove. Really, it was remarkable the little thing didn’t tear.
He was about to toss it aside but a streak of cherry red caught his attention. On the paper was a loose render of his alt. mode. It looked like the concept cars he’d seen in automobile enthusiast magazines. Knockout stared at the little image for a long moment.
It was beautiful, in a sort of imperfect way. Even the stray lines worked in its favor.
Artistry was not foreign to him. While he didn’t exactly consider himself an artist, he knew artistry well. When someone is passionate about something, it shows in their work. Which is how his finish looked the way it looked; Breakdown was always incredibly meticulous and careful. This had a similar level of care.
Why would the human leave this for him?
He turned it over to the back and found a short message. “Love the paint job. - @ky-ltd.”
“Kai L-T-D?” He repeated aloud incredulously.
Was this some kind of bribe? If they knew he was sentient, then was this some passive way of sucking up to him? Was he that obvious?
He shook the thought away. Maybe it was something he could ask Fowler about at a later date. Though, the agent was skeptical, at best, of the former Decepticon. Who’s to say he would answer him honestly.
Next problem: the smudge on his now chest plate. It was extremely tiny. Barely visible. But ‘barely’ might not cut it. If the Autobots thought he’d been hanging out with a human, he’d never hear the end of it.
He chuckled to himself at the thought.
Humans were disgusting.
Knockout pulled a microfiber cloth from his glovebox, which was now a small compartment in his chest. The graphite smear came off with a single swipe.
“There.” He sighed as he tucked the cloth away. “It never happened.” He paused to look at the little piece of paper between his digits. “It never…” Before he completed his thought, he shoved the paper in his glove box and flipped into vehicle mode.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Happy Wednesday, Knack-Lovers
Chapter 8: Casa De KOBD
The Knack is a Knockout-Centric Fic with a genderfluid human original character. It's 80% domestic fluff and bickering. Also, Breakdown is alive and well.
Introducing Rory Magellan, my newest Transformers Human OC.
Rory is a third year Fine Arts major that does a lot of experimental art and gesture studies. They frequently stop to draw things they find around town, which causes them to be late to almost everything. Rory also usually draws themself as a little Garfield-esque character instead of a human-person.
One day they stop to draw a gorgeous red Aston Martin they find parked in an alley and decide to leave the sketch and their card on the windshield for the "owner." Vain as he is, Knockout loves this kind of attention and starts making a plan to get them to be his personal artist.
I'm not sure if I'll post the full short fic of them or not but here's a snip-it under the cut;
(From the first chapter/introduction)
“Finally! The human is leaving. Knockout, Out.” He ended the transmission quickly as the human in question walked closer to the car. Instead of continuing down the sidewalk, they stopped next to Knockout’s side mirror. They pulled a piece of paper off the thing they had been fiddling with, then flipped it over and scribbled something on the back.
It took everything Knockout had not to smack them away as they lifted up one of his windshield wipers and tucked the paper neatly under it. He was trying to be a better bot. If he kept causing issues, the Autobots might have second thoughts about giving him so much freedom. He remained tense as the human placed their hand on his hood.
“Don’t see many beauties like you around here.” They said under their breath. “Thanks for letting me draw you. Love the sticker thing.” Then, they patted his hood and walked away.
Knockout sat there for a moment stunned. First, yes, he was quite beautiful. More humans should be like this one and notice that. Second, they had spoken to him. Not at him. Not to some fake driver. Him. Third, they had touched him. Their grubby little human fingerprints were no doubt on his hood now. He was going to have to pull over and fix that before returning to base. Not to mention whatever it was that they stuck under his window wiper. It was terribly itchy.
Still, he watched them turn the corner down the street. He had many questions. Were any of them worth pursuing? The blinking missed message from Breakdown on his dash told him no.
“Stay out of trouble, Speedster.” The text read.
He turned on his engine then rolled out. He would stay out of trouble… for now.
---
Notes: 1. KO doesn't know that humans talk to inanimate objects sometimes. 2. Breakdown isn't dead. Fuck canon- I do what I want :)
