(Author’s note: I was thinking about the concept of Earth dying due to the cybertronians' war, and kinda got inspired by this post by @luxthestrange. What if, reader, a human turned into a cybertronian, who also fought beside the Autobots, witnessed Elita kill Earth and destroy everything they had ever known? What if this choice ends up making reader become the Harbinger of War?)
Warnings: this takes place in skybound, war, violence, Earth dying, extinction, Elita doing some really bad stuff, very heavy angst, reader snaps, and ends up possessed by the dead souls, body horror, horror themed, and a very bad ending for Cybertronians.
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-You had fought for the Autobots ever since they found you and accepted you among them – a human, who was turned into a robot like them due to unfortunate circumstances. Though different, they welcomed you and taught you everything you needed to survive the war that threatened your planet.
-You offered support both at base and on the battlefield. You gave a listening ear and comforting presence whenever the war lowered their spirits.
-A sweet, kind, and brave soul is what they thought of you. Despite the circumstances, you fought a war that was not originally yours to fight alongside them. You protected them as much as they protected you. And despite your own doubts, you reminded them of what they were fighting for, which made them care for you even more.
-You were even empathic toward bots who changed sides, respecting their choices and reminding them that they can choose to do what they want as long as they no longer caused harm to Earth.
-Perhaps it was thanks to you that Thundercracker or some other cons chose to join the Autobots.
-You brought them much hope. Enough to keep going, and imagine a day when the Decepticons no longer threaten Earth, and possibly see the end of the war.
-But they never imagined that the greatest pain you would ever face was to witness the destruction of your own world. The day when you lost everything you ever fought for.
-Elita One, or Elita Prime as Optimus gave her the matrix, despite everything, still chose to follow the Decepticons idea and use Earth’s resources to restore Cybertron.
-You begged her desperately not to do it — to not murder your world and everyone in it.
-However, it was too late. The device Elita seized from the Decepticons was activated, which destroyed the Earth’s atmosphere. All humans, including your friends, family, and everyone you ever knew, and Earth’s fauna, suffocated to death. The Earth’s sun scorched all the flora, turning the planet into a barren wasteland. The Earth's oceans either boiled or froze, killing all its marine life. The sky lost its blueness, and not even a single blade of grass survived.
-Earth became a graveyard of the life it once possessed.
-But clean from all obstructions for cybertronians to collect its resources.
-The loss broke you. You screamed in agony and hatred. Barely restrained as you tried to attack Elita, calling her a murderer and swearing you would kill her. She ordered you to be taken into containment, considering what to do with you after taking all the resources Earth could offer.
-Optimus could not believe it himself. He had thought that giving the Matrix to Elita would set her back on the right path, but she ended up doing the same thing he had tried to prevent Megatron from doing.
-Any form of bond they had was gone for good. He would demand that you be released, telling her she will not judge you for anything and that if she refused, he would do something regrettable.
-She relented, and you were released from containment. You were quiet and numb, stains of the tears you had shed painted your face. But instead of letting you go quietly, Elita proceeded to tell you that thanks to Earth, Cybertron will live. That, as the last survivor of your kind, you should feel honored to see what the necessary sacrifice allowed.
-You only looked at her with a silent glare. “I will never forgive a murderer,” you said.
-You then vanished from Cybertron. The last time your friends saw you, you had returned to your planet, which was now nothing but a lifeless rock. Kneeling on the ground while quietly staring into nothing.
-Your friends felt guilty and awful. Those who had been on Earth and had befriended the humans left Cybertron, unable to bear the loss and the idea that Cybertron was only alive because of their human friends' deaths. Others felt guilty, too, even ashamed about how they felt glad to see Cybertron alive again.
-Those who still remained could still find you in the same spot on Earth, staring into the distance, unmoving and not eating a single energon they left for you. Sometimes they would see you speaking to something that isn't there, making them think the sorrow was slowly driving you insane.
-Optimus would sometimes sit with you in silence, knowing that no word could fix the pain this devastation had brought you.
-One of your former friends said something that gained a reaction out of you. They tried to make you see a silver lining, which made you furious. You ripped the Autobot badge from your chest and tossed it before them, swearing that you will never stand beside another Autobot again. You then walked away.
-You never returned to that spot. Some of them tried to look for you, and some accepted that you would never want to see them again. That letting you go was the merciful thing they could do for you for now.
-But soon changes happened on Cybertron. Nightmares plagued the bots. In their dreams, they saw the faces of humans and friends who had once looked at them with friendship and acceptance, now looked at them with hatred. Mysterious writings started appearing on Cybertron’s walls and surface, all containing hate and promises of revenge. How they owed a debt.
-Soon, the rivers of energon turned red. The color of humanity's lifeblood.
-Then there was even a worrisome occurrence. Bots telling how there was an infection that caused bots to go mad with rage and fight anyone without end. Which was gained by standing within a strange fog, or by the whispers of shadowy figures that began appearing out of nowhere.
-No one could explain what was happening.
-But one thing was clear: peace was vanishing from Cybertron.
-Some claimed it was a new weapon of the Decepticons. Some claimed it was the consequence of their decisions, the karmic debt of restoring Cybertron with the life of another world.
-But then, one day, you suddenly appeared on Cybertron. However, there was something really wrong with you.
-Your optics were red, red as blood. Dark energon with hues of red grew out of your frame. There was also a dark presence around you that could be seen by the bots near you. It was like your body was producing blackened air, and at a near distance, the bots could hear whispers of several voices.
-You then attacked, killing anyone on your path with the strength they had never seen you wield before. There was this maddened look on your face, and it was like there were other voices mixed with your own.
-Elita faced you, and despite the other Autobots’ protest, she managed to plunge the star saber into your spark. For a moment, she thought she had won, and you were no more.
-However, you did not go offline.
-You grabbed her arm, and for a moment, Elita saw not just you, but millions of human faces. They looked back at her with eyes filled with hatred. Hatred powerful enough for you to pull the star saber out of you and still live.
-The wound in your chest poured forth energon. Not blue like cybertronians, but red like human blood. The Autobots watched as the spark within you turned red, burning like a sun.
-Your energon suddenly set you on fire, encasing you in red and black flames. Your body convulsed as it began to change. A scream ripped out of your throat as wings sprouted out of your back. Horns slowly grew from your helm, making you hold it in pain as you also grew in size. Your frame then began glowing like it was melting, molding your body.
-The bots watched in horror. The dark energon only seemed to fuel the change.
-When the fire died down, you were completely changed. Your armor was scorched into pitch black, like the fire had scorched all the colors out of you, save for the lines that were blood red. You had horns and wings, giving you a strong resemblance to the chaos bringer, Unicron. The wound over your chest did not close, allowing the red spark to glow through. It also looked like you were bleeding from the crevices of your armor.
-Red tears endlessly streamed down your faceplate, tracing paths through the blackened metal no matter how many times they evaporated in the heat. And all around your frame and in the feathers of your wings opened several blood-red eyes.
-It was only then that the Autobots understood what you had become as they recognized those eyes. The same eyes that had been watching them in their nightmares. The eyes of the dead, now using you as their vessel.
-You had been possessed by all the souls that perished in Earth's destruction, all ended by Elita's hands. You had become, what words could only describe, the embodiment of pure hatred. Humanity's harbinger.
-You faced Elita again. However, this time, the battle became one-sided. You were now on a completely different level.
-Elita fought with all her might, but the millions of souls within you fuelled your strength with hatred, allowing you to overwhelm her. Soon, she lost, and you ripped the Matrix of Leadership out of her hands.
-She then watched as you held the Matrix in your hands and, with the strength of the vengeful souls, ripped it into pieces. You had destroyed the Matrix of Leadership.
-Wounded, Elita could not get up. You then showed your foot against her chest, keeping her down. Some of the blood spilling from you, painting her frame. She told you to finish it.
“Death is too good for you! “ you stated.
“They demand your blood.”
-She watched as many shadowy figures appeared beside you, humans, whose lives she had ended, who now stood around her. Watching and waiting.
“But I have a better idea…” You leaned down, staring into her.
“Since you took our world, why don’t we live in this one, since it's our world’s blood that is running in its veins?” you suggested.
-Elita’s eyes widened when the souls spoke their agreement.
“And since you cybertronians love fighting so much. How about I ensure you will continue to fight until all of you are dead,” you added.
-You then suddenly transformed into a creature that reminded the bots of Earth’s bird, which Optimus recognized as a dove, a creature that humans once associated with peace. Though your form carried what could only be described as a bleeding spark.
-You released a cry and flew across Cybertron, turning Cybertron’s skies blood red. The crimson spark in your chest bled into their world, either setting things on fire or infecting any cybertronian that came near it into uncontrollable rage.
-Elita watched as shaded figures scattered around Cybertron, creating a fog that allowed more bots to be infected and fight each other.
-All cybertronians could only watch as Cybertron was plunged into a new era by the embodiment of their ultimate sin.
Coz this mech has been on my mind and in my dreams **sobs**
Pairing: Reader x Prime! Knockout
Pronouns used: You, Your, You're, GN reader!
Summary: Cybertronian reader, Human reader, Human-ish/changeling reader. Drabbles and ideas.
Warnings: None really :D
Word count: 671
Cybertronian! Insert/Reader
Knockout prefers bigger bots, yknow, the 'heavy duty type'. That doesn't necessarily mean taller bots. Though if you're shorter, he'll definitely tease that.
Maybe it's a security thing, but he prefers bots who can left more then their own share. [Bigger, better]
Just like his frame type, he likes his relationships to develop fast. Sure he'll slow down if you prefer that, but he'll make his feelings and desires known. So LOTS of flirting.
Clingy, and one for PDA, mostly as a dominance thing to scare other bots off. Territorial? Maybe.
Likes to glide his pointed servos over your shoulders and back when passing by, not hard enough to leave scratches, but enough to feel a flick of static electricity trade itself between you two.
Will slide his servos and digits between the gaps of your hips and lower back when simply loitering beside you. He tends to fidget absent mindedly with the mesh and wiring- similar to squeezing a partners love handles or sliding a hand over your lovers ass.
Will expect to be pampered and loved on, though ironically gets flustered with PDA directed towards him.
Human! Insert/Reader
It takes KnockOut a while to even consider being JUST FRIENDS with a human.
Best way to this mechs spark is stroking his primus-forsaken ego.
Still a bit iffy about you touching him, even when you get close. This is due to your natural oil, which he TRIES [not really] to explain nicely that your dirty little mits are covered in. Though soon enough he starts seeing them as little marks he can wear with him when he's not around you! Not that any other bot notices...
He's the type of mech to treat his lil human F/O like a purse dog, SORRY. He carries you around, coz he doesn't want you stepped on OR getting dirty.
Drive in movies are a MUST and he loves having someone to talk to about said movies. Breakdown rarely accompanies him to said movies, so its a welcome change.
He may or may not convince you to pamper the shit out of him. Relating back to point three, he may just say it's what you owe him for getting him covered in your little oily finger prints.
Probably would love to pamper you back, whether not it's healthy, he sees your presentation as an extension of himself. He'd probably somehow get his hands on the finest [most likely red and gold] clothes and accessories.
Would probably pick and prod at you, pet you and overall be all over you.
HUGE flirt, and uses human movies as education on how to court you. It's cringe as fuck, but some how works with his charisma.
Human-ish/Changeling! Reader
Most of what Human! Insert applies to Changeling! Insert.
He views you as a interesting "specimen", but ultimately finds you easier to relate to then a plain human due to the shared ability to change forms.
Would be really interested in your species mimicking abilities, and if they also apply to mechanical life [it does, just takes a hella lot of practice!].
With your ability to change form, the size difference that would be seen between a human and a Cybertronian can easily be bridged. Though frankly he prefers when you're smaller, since seeing an organic as big as a Cybertronian, no matter the form is a bit... disconserting.
Doesn't let you out of his sight much. You're not exactly safe around your own kind [humans] or Cybertronians, especially if it's known of your abilities.
He would NOT trust other scientists around you, and especially not human governments. If Megatron or Soundwave knows you're a changeling, then KnockOut is even more fretful.
Megatron WOULD try convince you to be a spy for the Decepticons, and [especially if this is after Breakdown dies] Knockout may just get up and leave with you in such a case.
hello your the kingliness. x reader where reader is a decepticon and jazz is dating them cross faction, but as it turns out (bhat bight be bat bou bet) he now has to torture them for information. jazz psychologically and physically tortures lover for war intel. does the king approve of my idea?
Backbeat
Jazz x Cybertronian Decepticon Reader
This work is intended for 18+ audiences and will include all of the following: explicit sexual content, emotional manipulation, physical and psychological torture, specifically by a romantic partner, and abusive incarceration.
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☆ The funny thing about Earth is that it had a lot of little ways to get under your plates. The obvious ones, of course, being the dust that never really washed out of your seams, the dirt that lingered in the tracks of your tires, the smudges that just kept reappearing on the glass of your windows. But less obvious were the ones that were less physical. The sound of music, so vastly different to what your kind had called song, the sheer variety of organic existence, even just rubbing your back against hot stone for the first time had been incredible. It would never be home, no, you were a Decepticon to your spark and there would never be a place so beloved to you as Cybertron, but... a vacation here sometimes would be nice. If this war ever ended.
You'd been starting to doubt that recently. That this war would ever end. Or if it did, that it wouldn't really be worth it anymore. Megatron, once Megatronus, had been so powerful, so persuasive, protective of her army of war frames, of slaves, and miners and gladiators, but it was getting harder and harder to remember that. Now, she just... hissed and growled and tried to claw her way to Optimus Prime. Like she could fit in his chest, or something, if he just held still long enough. Maybe that's what it was, in the end. Not the decimation of your kind, not the loss of your fellows, not even the loss of your world, but the loss of her. Seeing her pacing, barking nonsense at no one, your once-great leader driven half mad by a wanting you couldn't understand. There wasn't anyone to follow anymore. Not really. You wouldn't be caught dead taking orders from Starscream, after all.
You would always be a Decepticon. Always. You could not stand with a regime that had simply decided that half of its kind was stupid and lesser for no reason other than they liked the taste of the power. But it was so damn hard to keep caring about this war when your leader was mad, your army destroyed, and your home so far out of reach.
So that's probably why you'd first accepted Jazz's offer to dance, all those years ago now. And then kept accepting them, following him through city streets, through thick forests, across great plains of snow or sand or grass. You'd seen so much of this world with him and it had burrowed a place for itself under your plates in the same way that he himself had. All wrapped up in you until so much made you think of him. And it was stupid, you already knew, stupid and unintelligent and foolish and whatever other synonym, to be so willingly close with the Autobot's perfect spy, the only mech alive that could meet Soundwave on anything like an equal playing field, but you really just couldn't help yourself.
He was the only thing that made you feel something like hope anymore.
Shaking off the thoughts, you snuck into the massive, empty warehouse he'd comm'd you the location of, carefully sniffing at the air and getting nothing but metal and concrete left on its lonesome. You crept through towers of abandoned shipping crates, seeking out your illicit partner. The soft, trilling chirp that made its way out of your vocalizer was as unintential as it was embarrassing, but when Jazz turned to look at you, that sweet face lit by his smile, you thought maybe it was worth it. His doorwings twitched a happy hello, and you let your own mirror the motion, pressing eagerly into his waiting arms with a deep, relieved purr of your engine. "Fuck, you have no idea how much I missed you. Hook's been a pain in the ass recently."
"Hey, baby." His digits slipped easily into the weak points on your armor, ghosting over wires and pressing to the places he knew made your purr come shaky and heavy. It had been too easy to fall into something warm with him. To find yourself relying on the soft cadence of his gentle voice to calm the prickling in your spark. When he slips a digit under your chin, prompts you to raise your helm, it is the easiest thing in the world to kiss him and forget what he is.
It had been your deal from the start. As long as you were together, you could stop being a Decepticon and an Autobot. Could focus on everything else you were instead. Didn't stop either of you from, rarely, making your case for defection, but it was always short lived and quickly dropped. You cared too much for the abused Seekers, the beaten down miners, to be anything other than theirs, and he loved his Prime, trusted him beyond words, far too much to ever leave him behind. Optimus Prime was different than his predecessors, you could admit though, the only nice thing Jazz had ever gotten you to admit about his faction. Well, that and it had him in it.
His hands slid, warm and adoring, down your arms till he could lace his digits with yours, pulling away only to tug you back with him. He led you to one of the massive metal shipping crates, nudging open the door with a grin and a flourish, to show you the nest he'd put together inside. A mess of textiles and pillows from who knows where, enough that it would work as a makeshift berth for you both. He'd gotten little lights from somewhere, strung them up everywhere, enough that you could pick your way to the nest when he dragged the doors shut behind you, safe and hidden.
"How long did it take you to set this up?" You started to turn, optics cycling wide in the low light, but his arms wound around your waist before you could.
"Don't worry about that. Long enough that I expect you to enjoy it to the fullest." You could feel the shape of his smile against the cabling of your neck as he pressed kisses to your throat. Lingering over the primary energon line, sharp teeth grazing your lifeline. His purr was low, a gentle vibration that carried from his frame to yours as his hands wandered in familiar patterns of adoring affection. "Got you somethin' special tonight."
"Ooh, so this is for interface!" He smacked you gently on the hip for that, tugged you down with him, and you went willingly. Settled in the nest he'd made with his chest to your back, one hand tapping out the notes to whatever song he was composing in his head.
Jazz looked for something for a moment, warbled a high note you'd long learned was his version of a whoop of victory, and then with a click of a button some projector you hadn't noticed against the wall sent a holovid against the adjacent. "It's for movie night. If my darling conjux-to-be can behave."
You snorted, settled yourself closer. "Yeah, well-" and then the words hit you. Your own staticked out into silence, your throat working but producing no sound, until you coughed out a bleat of nonsense. Twisting to look at him, you got nothing but that familiar, calm gaze, his visor snapping back to show the loving set of his narrowed eyes. "... Jazz?" He trilled softly, his arm tightening around your waist. "Is that- Did you just propose to me? Seriously?"
"I think it was more of a statement," he murred, leaning forward to kiss a line along your slack jaw.
Conjux. Of course you'd thought of it. But it had been in the context of a world beyond your war, a fancy daydream you could not really afford. Belonging to him in a way that no one could deny. Of course you'd wanted it. How could you not? But there had always been the endless list of reasons why it was a bad fucking idea, number one being that the sparkmerge it required would show him all of you. Everything. Including the pieces that you could not afford to let slip free, even to him, because the moment he left your side he was not your Jazz anymore, but an Autobot officer.
He was so close. Kissing down your neck, servos tracing transformation seams, shifting lower until he could kiss at the sensitive places where your doorwings hooked into your back. So hard to think with his EM field winding into yours, broadcasting a loving adoration so strong that you could not think beyond the shimmering color of it against the stream of your code. And it was a bad idea. It was a very, very bad idea, but you didn't want to think that far. Didn't want to think beyond the steady pressure of his warm kisses, the soft thing in your spark that purred and sang, because he wanted you. Not just a fling, not just something to waste time, Jazz wanted you for life. Till the end of everything. And besides, you could simply be his to-be until the war was over. You could keep that, surely. The promise of something worth fighting for.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay." And he purred so hard that it shivered his soft laugh. You did not bother to stop your smile when he came up to kiss you on the mouth again, just laid your hand to his cheek and held him closer. Yours. He was yours.
You could barely focus at first, when he snuggled you close and gently turned your attention to the movie he'd gotten for you. Something human, you didn't pay attention to the title card, but he knew you too well by now. So many joors spent purring against his chest, talking about your lives before the war as if they were something still in reach. The scenes of car chases and perfectly timed turns was right up your alley, your attention eventually riveted. You could probably do all that, you mused, but it was astonishingly impressive for a little human to have managed it, and your attentive purr was interrupted only by Jazz's occasionally wandering hands, painting the rhythm of his music onto your armor.
It was part of what had drawn you to him, his tactile nature. Whatever you did, wherever you were, his servos would find themselves against your frame. You could almost read his thoughts in the rhythm of his touch by now, your attention occasionally drawn to the way he drew absent, looping spirals over the plane of your stomach, claws occasionally testing the seaming of your abdominal plating. Deep in thought, or concentrating hard on something. He was usually half lost in his head, though, a thousand branching threads running in that beautiful processor.
You laid your hand over his, letting your attention slip for a moment from the movie. When it was over and the credits were rolling, you thought, you'd turn over and ask him what he was thinking about. More often than not, when you asked that question, he'd smile that gentle smile and tell you it was nothing, which meant it was something Autobot that you weren't allowed to know. So you'd tell him to start thinking of something, that having a head full of nothing was no good for anyone, and he would laugh that beautiful laugh and say okay. Find something to talk to you about in that too-smart head of his.
A near-miss on the makeshift screen and your doorwings flared in time with your chirp. Awesome!! Seriously awesome!!!!
Jazz made a sound that was almost a laugh against your throat, pressing distracted kisses to you, a habit you hoped he would never break. His lips brushed over seaming, against cording and wire, eventually ending with him just mouthing at the shape of one of your medical ports. It felt good, warm and familiar, while his digits rubbed circles over a biolight in your side. By the time the credits were rolling, you'd forgotten about asking him for his thoughts. You'd forgotten about most things that weren't the press of his kiss and the heat of his touch.
A sharp denta caught in your port seaming, easing it open, and you could not be bothered to snap it back shut when his mouth sealed warm over the opening, soft against the exposed prongs and hooking inside. His glossa nudged at the gap and your purr stuttered, optics offlining in comfortable wanting.
All data class frames have cables and cording hiding in every nook and cranny of their bodies. Even Optimus Prime retained his cables after his ascension. Jazz was no different. It was the last clear remembrance you had when he jammed one into your medical port, the connection snapping into place with a shock of nausea and alarm, a disquieting rush of fear that felt so out of place here. Jazz shifted, the image of him hazy and blurred as your optics refused to come back online properly, watching you struggle to ask him what was happening.
"It's okay, baby." That melodic voice, so familiar, so loved, so surely safe. "It's okay. Just let me in, sweetspark, it's okay. You're alright. It's just me. There you go. That's perfect, baby, thank you." You couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop him. He was in the totality of you, plugged straight into the core pieces of your functionality. When he told your frame to go offline, it simply obeyed.
You weren't awake to notice when he carried you away, back towards his Autobot home.
Do y’all think Beastwars Megatron has simp potential? I’ve spoken about this a bit with friends, but something about his goofiness gives me the vibe of if he were to ever have a conjunx, it would be the dynamic of silly evil boss and the boss’s conjunx who’s the actual leader.
Like he’s talking about his super evil plan and Tarantulus just slowly turns around to mutter “someone call his Conjunx and tell them what’s up- oh nothing lord Megatron! Truly marvelous idea! Hurry up or we are all going to die.”
Would it be a healthy relationship? Probably not, am I still down bad? Absolutely.
Give me that goofy dinosaur bastard.
If you phrase your words gently enough his plan does a complete 180 because(you) thought of something so much better.
A little forehelm smooch for you.
Someone peering into your office (Waspinator) to hide (he doesn’t wanna get blown up again) and quietly asking if you can give him a bullshit task, so he doesn’t have to go back out there.
And now he’s helping you file data pads, and Megatron allows it with a mild threat of “you better make yourself useful to them or I’ll dismantle you myself.”
Gives you a smooch before leaving for his mission.
Back on my Transformers kick and hear me out, Transformers One right? The main 4 meet the high guard and Starscream's fighter jet daughter is MESMERIZED by D-16. Like girly pop is staring his ass down and he knows it. He's been eye fucking her since he regained consciousness. Starscream notices and is obviously pissed because his little girl is making eyes at some random ass mech they never seen before. When he and D-16 get into that fight, girl is just like 'I wanna have his babies'. Since she was raised in a, setting with incredibly violent Cybertronians, it would make sense that she would fall for someone like D-16. Thoughts?
I need more ratchet x cybertronian reader in my life 💔 if I wasn’t too embarassed to make requests myself I would be bombarding every writers askbox with requests I HAVE IDEAS MAN 😭 PLEASE WRITE MORE RATCHET X CYBERTRONIAN READER I NEEEED ITTTTT,,, OR KUP X CYBERTRONIAN READER IM A FIEND FOR THE MILITARY VETERANS
Mtmte edition heh…😈 prolly ooc but heh…who really cares
Rodimus: This guy…he’s probably call you something dumb like my silly dilly gumdrop, baby cakes, Pookie Wookie Dookie Sugar Prince(ss) Boo Boo Bear Snuggle Waggo Baby Bunny or my lovable Pookie dookie gumdrop😭 (jk) but srsly id feel like he’d call you babe most of the time and if he’s feeling a bit romantical it would fo sho be sweet spark :)
swerve: he is such a sweetie pie, he’d probably call you love, sweet spark, amore, Mo gohrádh (my dear in Scottish Gaelic) pudding and cutie pie :3
ultra magnus: my beautiful 12th wife would call you princess/prince/princex/princette, darling, dear, sweetie, Pumpkin
Drift: Mr. thickums would probably call you cherry blossom, my beautiful girl/boy/s/o, my dove, my flower (any kind of flower) Little dumpling
Ratchet: dearest, dear, my star, my light, honey, Ma'am/Sir/Mx(?)
whirl: sweet thang, sugar tits (goes for all genders he doesn't care),hot stuff, sweets, sugar, ship mate, Shnookums, toots
Rung: darling, my love, my fawn, dawn, my dearest, my love, my amazing s/o, little one (for human/minibot! cybertronin [NAME])
Megatron: my dear, my love, lovely, darling, my sweet (gender)
skids: hon, dove, my spark, cloud, sweet pea, bubbles
Getaway: ah you thought. I'll never write for him unless their are guns and missiles to my head and I'm hanging upside down above a tank full of eels and sharks [Angry face]
