Could I request a femme seeker having a crush on Starscream and finally having the guts to tell him? In Tfp
school killed me recently and i had this halfway finished in my drafts forever so i finally finished it! hope it’s to your liking! - Wizard
It’s a long time coming, you think. Starscream is the kind of mech that bots just—fall in love with. Or, well, he isn’t, but you’ll swear it was love at first sight. From the first look at those pretty wings and the first sound of that… chafing… voice. Yes, you’ll admit he has some flaws and that he’s nowhere near perfect, but you love him nonetheless.
Still, it takes a long while to corner him in the halls. He’s an elusive one, Starscream is. Mostly because of his own nature and partially because of Megatron.
“What do you want?” Starscream sneers at you when you finally track him down. His wings are hiked up so high you could swear that he was going to fly away.
“Me? Want something? You must be mistaken.” You barely flirt with the concept of coy. You’re good at faking confidence that you don’t have. Always have been.
Starscream scoffs, “If you don’t want something, then I’m leaving.”
It makes you nervous. You spent all that time finding him. You can’t lose him now.
“Wait,” you say.
Starscream pauses. His wings don’t relax. “What?” he snaps at you. “Speak.”
You shuffle nervously—why is it in this you can’t find what to say? You’re good with words. Not as good as Starscream is, of course, but good enough. But you suppose you have to say something to make him listen to you.
“I want to spend time with you,” you say, because that is a neutral option.
Starscream is taller than you, so when he steps closer he towers over you. If you were a lesser bot, you might be afraid, but you’ve spent too much time clawing your way onto the Nemesis and into Megatron’s regard to be wary.
He sneers at you, “Oh? Is that it? The little seeker wants to spend time with me? I know what you’re trying to do.”
You tilt your helm, examine him. No, you don’t think he does know what you want. And you want, desperately. “Oh?” you ask, echoing him. “And what is it that I want, Starscream?”
You wrap your lips around his name, hold the sound for a bit too long. He looks at you and you cannot read him.
“You want to overthrow me,” he says harshly.
You laugh. It makes his wings raise in surprise. “Not at all,” you say, false confidence growing more and more real by the minute.
Starscream looks on the edge of seething, of snapping. He asks, “Then what is it that you want?”
Confidence consumes you like it never has before. You’d almost call it arrogance in any other situation. You smile up at him, “I want you, Starscream.” And this is the part where your confidence waivers, where you are young and not yet battle-hardened again. Where your voice almost fails you but doesn’t because you refuse to fail. “I want to hold your servo and kiss you and listen to all your plans. I want everything you have to offer.”
Starscream looks at you as if you’ve grown a second helm. Maybe that is not the incorrect response.
“You—what?” Starscream even sounds startled as he speaks.
“You heard me,” you say, because you are not sure you can repeat yourself.
Starscream shifts and his wings lower. “I did,” he says.
And that, that is good enough. For now, of course.