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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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‘You talk as if I consider you a mistake’

hi !! saw requests for song fics are open, may I request something angsty with fem!human!reader x megatron (idw) to ‘young and beautiful’ by lana del rey ? 🥹 <3 thank you in advancee

Young and Beautiful (IDW Megatron x Fem!Human!reader)

Word count: 1,070

Eighty years. Humans lived for a measly eighty years.

You change right before Megatron’s optics. Your hair grays, your skin sags, your bones grow thinner. Like the very universe was sapping you away from him. Vector Prime alone could grant him all the time he needed to write a poem about all of the moments he lived with you.

But how could he begin to write when every time he picked up his stylus, you were that much further from him? He longed to capture the feeling of you and immortalize it in a data pad, but then you’d touch your tiny, soft servo along his gray bottom lip plate and take him away. Remind him that you were his moment. Here for a second, gone in a blink.

You flare, you flicker, you fade.

You asked him once, if he’d love you even after you weren’t so soft. You weren’t so pretty. And your mind wasn’t as intact as it once was.

Megatron’s answer was immediate.

“Even once the spark of your life extinguishes, and I won’t stop even for a klik after.”

You may have lamented the way time and age changed you, but Megatron learns to see unique beauty in it. There was something beautiful in a life lived so long that you COULD age, it was a promise of peace and resilience. You lived, you fought, you came back again and again. A force so strong that it took time itself to put you down.

Megatron thought that was romantic. Not in the way of kisses in summer or dancing in the moonlight, but the cosmic way. In the way that atoms and space dust collect together and become new stars, or how he realizes, in the grand scheme of things, so, so many tiny and nearly impossible things had to happen for you to be his.

As you grew older, you grew more rapt by his poetry. You blamed it on growing old and sentimental, he argued you were always sentimental. You had always found it fascinating, but Megatron believed that perhaps you took some comfort in it.

“Do you think, because I love you… I’ll be there in the Afterspark waiting for you?”

You were resting against his neck cables, curled up between his shoulder armor and helm vents like a tiny glitch mouse. The ardent heat of energon pulsing up the lines of his throat felt good and helped soothe some of the arthritis in your hands. He had to rest his chin on his servo, propping his helm up at an angle to keep from squishing you, but he hadn’t the spark to stop you.

It’s a question that he’d pondered many times. For he who often pondered the nature of all things grand, the question of life after death was a philosophist’s energon and mineral tablets.

“You do not have a spark,” He points out, shifting his helm minutely to a position slightly more comfortable for you to tuck yourself under, “So I would not expect you to be held to the same rules and expectations of Primus.”

“But, your God is real.” You raise as a counterpoint, “Any proof that various human gods are real could be considered dubious at best.”

“That is a point for the high queries of gods, but what of your lack-there-of spark?”

“What is a spark but life?” You offer, gesturing with your hands and making the round shape of a spark before your breast. Megatron loathed to move you from your warm perch, so instead he tips the data pad in his servo so he can see your tiny reflection. You look comfortable, hidden securely in his collar fairings. “Perhaps I DO have a spark, but it’s simply just a different form. After all, energy cannot be destroyed. It merely changes form.”

You chuckle, knocking your knuckles against his neck cables. “Julius Robert Mayer.”

“A human philosopher?” Megatron asks, setting his datapad aside to instead settle for reaching up and touching his digit to your lap. You take the hint immediately, and hold his huge digit between your two itty bitty hands.

“Founder of the laws of energy conservation. Suppose most of us are philosophers in some way, though.”

You have to be, with lives so short and bright. Megatron keeps that thought private to himself, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. You were feeling thinner and thinner these days. He hoped you ate well enough.

“So, what have we come to the conclusion of in this conversation?” You prompt, bringing back your point, “That there is no true way to say I do not have a spark, and that it’s ultimately far more likely that Primus and his Afterspark wait for me than say… The Christian or Hebrew concept of God.”

“For there are too many to count.”

“For there are too many to count.” You agree, “But it is the most commonly applicable and the most similar to Primus.”

“But,” Megatron clicks his glossa, a smile coming to his face. He loved it so when he could have these in-depth conversations with you. “That is also dismissing that humanity is a much younger culture than Cybertron was. Perhaps you will find proof that these things are indeed true, or perhaps something you had not even considered. Perhaps in the afterlife, you will have a veritable plethora of ‘heavens’ to choose from.”

“Then I’d choose to wait for you.” You say, “Or I’d choose some religion where I’d be reborn and I could fall in love with you again.”

“You could live again, redo all of the things you had missed. Unmake all of your mistakes.”

“You talk as if I considered you a mistake.”

He feels your tiny, cool lips press to the pulsing line of energon that is connected directly to his spark chamber. You laugh, giddy and sounding just as young as you were when he first met you. There’s a well of emotion there in his chest and, if not for millions of years of carefully cultivated control, he might have sobbed.

Instead, he settles for curling the whole of his huge, warm servo against your body, and recording this moment for all of time. The moment he writes on his spark that you wanted to be his in any life.

“I suppose it is not a mistake then, if you do not regret it.”

#I was the anon who requested this and I am FLOORED this is absolute perfection #the way you captured the very essence of why I love this song #‘ father (primus) tell me if you can’#how am I suppose to recover and move on from this #thank you thank you thank you <3 #my requests #transformers #Megatron #mtmte #lost light

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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Song Fic Reader Inserts Are Open!!

Send me your favorite tf character along with a song and I'll write a brief Reader Insert drabble inspired by the song! Requests will be open for 24 hours! It is 9 pm est as of posting this!

Please list the character with your preferred continuity. If you don't list one, I'll either pick my favorite continuity myself or go for a nondescript au. Please don't list more than two characters. I love poly relationships but I'll lose track eventually lol

Please list if you want the fic to be sexy, romantic, or angsty! I can kind of get a vibe from the song but I'd love to hear your direction!

I will NOT write anything NSFW featuring characters who are minors. I will write platonic things featuring them though.

I will NOT be writing full valveplug scenes for this request dock. You can expect ~1,000 words though, perhaps more.

#transformers

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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Imagine Cybertronians trying to understand the concept of motherhood when they are, as a species, sterile. I would assume Cybertron, was born with an individualist culture, even before the war. Spark brothers exist, but that doesn’t carry the same gravity as being a mother. Conjunxes, friends, companions; they make the Cybertronian vernacular less lonely, less cold. But they ring empty next to the word mother — giver, carrier. How painfully gentle must the word be, the role even more so.

One of the human liaisons is a single mother, and she had no choice but to bring her child with her, well aware that the ship was no place for her son. And yet, circumstances were difficult: no one was surprised at the lack of equal treatment for working mothers — and so she never lets the child out of sight. And this had sparked a few curious questions from the crew.

Tailgate, specifically, found the idea weird. Why does the little human struggle with feeding themselves? Or why can't they accomplish basic, ordinary tasks? The minibot knew he could be dependent, but this was just overboard. She had to explain to him that humans were different.

If Cybertronians were forged and welded, humans were moulded. They need to be shaped as they mature.

Humans don't come with a series of pre-programmed instructions. Those are nurtured into us. And no, Tailgate, they are not transferred through the umbilical cord.

(Pregnancy was another complicated — if not terrifying — phenomenon for Tailgate.)

He's old enough to feed himself. I just don't want him to be alone, the mother smiled, bouncing the giggling toddler in her arms. That's why he has his mommy.

After that, Tailgate found the concept rather convenient, if not unfair: why is it that the small human gets to have someone to care for them, hold them, and love them all day long, and Cybetronians don't? The liaison had laughed, noting that the bot still had a long way to go to understand if he continued to dumb down the idea of ‘motherhood’ as simply being someone’s daily caretaker.

Until an incident rocked the ship, and the Lost Light had a close encounter with the DJD. Only then did they see it : the teeth and claws and fear behind her usual, gentle eyes — how the liaison had carelessly thrown herself in front of Tarn, defiant and loud, mustering more courage than her trembling body could hold to put herself between his blaster and her child. The DJD leader’s optics had widened with something akin to shock, melting to interest as he faltered, just for a few seconds, at the blasphemous show of courage. That was the distraction Ultra Magnus needed to land the blow to save them. And once the crew was back in hyperspace, lightyears away and safe and quiet — she wept in relief.

She tried to soothe her cub, choking on her tears to pretend she wasn't afraid. And it did not matter to the child whether her strength was tangible or not. He was in his mother’s arms. And to him, it was enough. Always, it was enough.

Magdalene and the sword of grief; Loss decorated the long history of this million-year war between Autobots and Decepticons. And yet they never ring heavy with the cry of a mother who had lost a child. It had been a close call. Too close. Rodimus immediately ordered tighter security, and there was a shift in the air as everyone returned to their stations.

Mommy’s here. The mother crooned, stroking the hair of her child as the baby sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. And something sad and heavy tugged itself against the strings of Tailgate’s spark.

He finally understands.

inspired by this post <3

#i want to write more but this has just been gnawing at the back of my head #lost light #mtmte #transformers idw #tf imagines #tf mtmte #tf idw #tailgate #idw

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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Thank you to the anonymous person who commissioned me for some Ambulon love. Thank you for your generous donation to Doctors Without Borders and I hope you like it❤️

~*~

You’re the first human Ambulon has ever met. And the first organic he’s ever seen in person.

He isn’t sure exactly what he expected but definitely something… more? No, that’s not the right word. He expected to have a more visceral reaction to you. A lot of Cybertronians, Decepticons and Autobots alike, hold a certain disgust for most organics. They describe your kind as wet bags of meat and blood and hair and pus.

But nothing about you looks nearly so offensive as any of that. You look soft but in a way that’s pleasant, in a way that makes Ambulon want to brush the tips of his fingers along your scalp and your cheek and feel that softness for himself. Your lips look soft too, and when they part you reveal pale flat teeth as the corners of your mouth nearly stretch to your ears in a smile so dazzling it makes Ambulon’s spark pound in its chamber.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you tell him, corners of your eyes crinkling as you extend your hand out towards his.

Your hand is so small in comparison to his own, delicate-looking and precious. His own hand would engulf yours and he fears he might crush your grip in his own if he tried to reciprocate the gesture. Instead, he extends his index finger towards your palm and when metal makes contacts with skin he feels a warm jolt like electricity shoot up his finger through his arm and all throughout his energon lines. It fills his entire frame with a gentle heat he cannot explain.

Ambulon has no way of knowing if you feel it too, but that’s fine. It’s something he will pack away in his mind and try not to think about when he is alone with his thoughts. Instead, he focuses on how your hand squeezes around his fingertip, the way your flesh is so warm and malleable around his metal, and how it feels so right.

~*~

“If you don’t mind my asking, what is your alt mode?”

Ambulon looks up from the records he had been sorting through, golden optics fizzling. He’s grown used to your company in the recent days, as well as your curiosity, but that was a question he was not expecting.

“It’s embarrassing,” he answers quickly, the plating of his cheeks turning a pale pink where the energon rushes beneath.

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” you say with a playful tilt of your head, beaming up at him with a smile as bright as a supernova. “I once met a mech who transformed into a shield. Note, he didn’t have a shield; he was a shield and he felt everything.”

Ambulon looks down at you skeptically.

��Sometimes he got used as a ramp, too,” you continue, still grinning.

“Huh.”

“I’ve also met some mechs who transformed into a tape deck and cassettes even though CDs went out of vogue decades ago. So if you really don’t want to tell me, I don’t mind, but I promise I won’t laugh.”

Ambulon has no obligations to you to tell you. It’s a personal question; one that you probably don’t even understand the significance of; and Ambulon has never been eager to share this information with anyone. Still, he considers it, dentae chewing at the mesh of his bottom lip as you smile at him all bright-eyed. It might not be so bad to tell you. You might not understand but perhaps you would understand so little that you wouldn’t know enough to judge him for it.

“Okay, fine.” He heaves out hot air through his vents in a sound akin to a deep sigh. “I’m a leg.”

To your credit, you do not laugh. You do, however, raise an incredulous eyebrow at him, amused smile still on your face but uncharacteristically silent.

“Lame, right?” The corner of Ambulon’s lip twitches in a self-depreciating smile that does not reach his optics. “I’m just a piece of something. Incomplete on my own.”

“It’s not lame!” you argue back, a little too fast, a little too loud. It takes Ambulon aback. He wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction from you. “Your alt mode literally kicks ass and that makes it cool.”

He can feel the heat crawling back to his face plates. “How would you know it’s cool? You haven’t even seen it.”

“Only one way to fix that then, huh?”

“What?”

You look at him expectantly.

“…Really?”

You nod your head, still grinning, hands folded neatly under your chin as you wait patiently.

Ambulon exhales another deep breath of air through his vents, looking defeated. He’s not sure why he can’t say no to you so he tries not to dwell on it, optics blinking out as he slowly goes through the process of transforming before your eyes.

“There,” he says, feeling oddly naked in front of you. It’s like he’s opened up the plating of his chest to expose his spark chamber and all his fragile wires even though they are even harder for you to access when he is in this form. “Happy now?”

“Very.” You let out a low whistle. “I always was a sucker for long legs,” you say almost wistfully.

“I—!” Ambulon stutters out a sound like radio interference, energon rushing throughout his whole frame. He’s thankful you can’t see his face in this form and especially thankful that you cannot read his EM fields. “What does that mean?!”

“It means whatever you think it means,” you answer with a playful wink and a snort of laughter you can’t contain.

If you were a mech there would be no question of your flirting but Ambulon doesn’t know if it’s the same for humans. He doesn’t want to make a fool of himself and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up and, more than anything, he doesn’t want to even entertain the possibility because he knows if he starts thinking about it then he’ll never be able to stop.

“So, like, this might be coming completely out of left field and, if you’re not into it then no hard feelings, but would you be interested in dating outside your species? Like, say, a human, for example?”

Ambulon can feel his spark pulsing in his chest.

Huh. Well, alright then.

~*~

Your fingers trace along his arm, eyes soft as your thumb brushed against a spot where the paint has chipped away, revealing the mottled purple coat from a time he wishes he could purge from his memory banks.

He needs a new paint job. He hates looking down and seeing the reminder of what he once was, of all the pain and suffering he personally caused. But he’s been stationed at Delphi for a long time and it’s hard to justify making a request for fresh paint when they are low on so many medical supplies. He can’t be that selfish. He doesn’t deserve to be.

He feels shame when you stare down at the patches of purple paint where the white and red coat has been worn away. He wonders what you feel when you look down on them, when you’re confronted with the physical reminder that he was once part of a group of mechs that have caused so much chaos and death and destruction to your planet, to your home, to your friends.

Ambulon isn’t expecting the soft press of your mouth against chipped paint, your lips so gentle it’s as if you think he’s the one who could break beneath your touch and not the other way around. You could be rough with him if you wanted and it would make no difference but you still choose to treat him with care.

“I think it takes a special kind of person to dedicate his life to helping others,” you say, and Ambulon has to strain his audials to hear the soft tone of your voice over the whir of his cooling fans as you place yourself in his lap, straddling the plating of his thigh. “You couldn’t chose the alt mode you were built with or the affiliation of the mech who built you but when you got away from them you chose to be a medic. You chose to heal the people you were built with the intention to harm. And I think that says a lot about you.”

Ambulon’s spark feels so warm. He feels so seen. You are a completely different species from a planet millions of light years away from his own, the result of millions of years of evolution in an environment so unlike his own that you could not be more different if you tried. And yet he has never felt more understood than he does now. Not more loved.

He thinks he would cry if he could. Instead he leans his head back and moans as your fingers tenderly pry into a seam where his thigh meets his hip and the sensitive wires underneath.

Even now your fingertips feel so soft against his most secret, sensitive parts. He wants to feel you too, feel your softness for his own, and he gives in to that temptation to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingers and you press the side of your head into his palm, flesh of your cheek pressed tight to the metal. You’re so warm.

You’re still leaning into his hand as your thighs start to squeeze around his leg, hips making shallow movements as you grind into him. His spike pressurizes behind his interface panel, desperate to feel your softness and heat for itself.

Ambulon has never minded your size difference. You’re not all that much shorter than a minibot and he finds your smaller stature charming. But now he is at a loss because he wants so desperately to kiss you and to rut in between your thighs but with the height difference he can only do one at a time and there’s no way he could ever choose.

You make the decision for him; turning your cheek to kiss the palm of your hand, then gently guiding his arm so that you can kiss a path from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder until he is bending down for you so you can capture your lips with his. He could swallow your entire mouth while but Ambulon is patient with you as you tease him with little flicks of your tongue.

When you pull away, his head moves to follow after you, optics hazy as they follow the wicked curve of your smile. You just beam at him and wink, kissing a new path down his chest plate and past his waist until he can feel the tip of your tongue swirl against his interface panel and Ambulon has no choice but allow his spike to slide free and push into the waiting warmth of your hands.

You can barely wrap both hands around him. You give his spike a tentative pump, thumb brushing along the to roll around the pink drip of transfluid beading at the tip. Your touch is so soft it’s a tease, barely a whisper of sensation, and as much as he appreciates your gentleness, just this once, he wants you to be rougher with him, please!

But he can’t voice these thoughts, too overwhelmed, so you continue to tease him with your fingertips and your tongue and even your lips as they briefly seal themselves around the tip of him. It’s slow torture when you pull away and he’d be embarrassed by the whine that leaves his vocalizer as you pull back if he wasn’t too sex drunk to care. Besides, the whine that leaves his frame when you slowly and fully seat yourself on his spike is far more embarrassing.

It feels like he was made for you, a perfect fit as you slowly rise and fall on top of him, warm walls squeezing around his spike as you adjust to the sudden fullness. You burn so hot around him, against him, and still it’s your smile that burns the brightest as your lips part and you gasp out his name in between breathy moans.

#ambulon #transformers

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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i have this little worm in my brain that's obsessed with the idea of putting cybertronians in normal, everyday scenarios. to pluck these blocky, stiff characters and drop them into a landscape so smooth, so gentle, that they stand out like a sore thumb. a shadow across a monet painting : from far away nothing looks out of place, but the closer you look, the more you realise that this is absurd.

and yet i love first contact aus, where earth has established a semi-stable understanding with cybertron that assimilation has gone as far as mechs being able to roam around the streets and go unnoticed by the crowd of humans. that they can sit and dine in restaurants with their human partners or friends, nursing a glass of energon, while they catch up on each other's lives. where mass displacement and gravity adjusting machines are accessible so these bots don't destroy or ruin everything they touch in this little blue planet and instead learn how to adapt to it. to not only live but to live together :

fortress maximus having breakfast with you in your shared apartment.

swerve shaking up drinks for human patrons at his bar.

rodimus walking his date down the street of their home.

ratchet and drift going through the christmas market. skids helping you with your jewellery by the vanity table. velocity pushing the cart while you shop for groceries.

it's ridiculous and makes little sense but it is also wishful thinking. and most of my thoughts consist of mourning the painfully tender slice of normalcy humans could have given these giant war-raging bots if given the chance.

how we can finally find a way to fit the sharp and unyielding edges of their armors against the curve of our open palms. so they can learn how to be finally grounded to the soil and not drift against the nothingness of space. word barf but i'm going insane.

give me the domestic bliss i deserve with my sixty foot tall alien husband or i will explode like confetti.

#you breathe life into my thoughts so so beautifully #thank you for this #i am genuinely moved #and choking on a thousand emotions for these lovely bots #brb i'm going to lay down and cry for 3 to 5 business days #fortress maximus #needlenose #sludge #transformers #love all the little details and additions you're brilliant

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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tagged by the lovely @montyuh <3

last song: queen of peace by florence and the machine ( on repeat since last week )

favorite color: i can’t really say either white or black because one might argue they’re the absence of color… so it’s a tie between navy blue and strawberry red !

last show: the haunting of hill house ( and i’m obsessed, would recommend !)

sweet / savory / spicy: savoury and spicy because traditional food from my country’s region that I grew up in generally taste that way

relationship status: single ( married to megatron if that counts, hence username )

last thing i googled: how many episodes ‘midnight mass’ is because that’s my next binge

current obsession: mike flanagan’s shows

tagging : @robot-horde @crying-fantasies @lonetile @shizukaay0 @ratchs @megatrons-husband ( not mandatory, just for fun :) )

#tag game #girlposting

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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好喜欢漫画里的全息威啊

#transformers #megatron #mtmte

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

Please.

#please #the problem with me is that I come off as incredibly boring #and I may be incredibly boring #but I do love a good chat #and just gushing over bots in general so <3 #transformers #girlposting

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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Phone sex with Prowl, he'd call you after not being able to finish properly. Voice whiney as tries his hardest to no let you know right off the bat that he's calling cuzz he missed your voice. He missed you talking him through his orgasms. He'll try regulating his voice, asking you how your day was. Pants leaving his mouth as he listens to you talk about what happened, a smile in your voice as you tell you lover about your human adventures. His free servo pumping his spike, hips bucking up to meet his servo. He closes his eyes and gritts his teeth. A desperate attempt to not moan out when he hears you call his name. Confusion in your voice, he'll be able to hum in response. Unable to answer the next few questions you ask him, that is until he let one small moan slip. Your rbain finally catching onto what was happening. He can hear you shifting, clothing noises and then your voice comes back.

"Tell me about it Handsome. Can't finish with out my help."

It was like a switch flipped in you, your brain no longer worried about telling silly human stories and now focused on the noises that come from the mech on the other side of the phone. He didn't hold back anymore, letting out little whine as he spoke to you. Saying something along the lines of missing your and how he was just trying to release something after a long day. He'll stumble over his words as he ask for your help. He can hear your breath picking up, your hums sounding in his ears as he attempts to speak again. He knows he could come right now, but that would be a waste since now you're here. His sservo stops its movement, His breathing rigid as lists to you. Enjoiyng the little noises that come from your end of the phone. He hears a strangled moan, his hips buck up and just like that he's back on the same path to finishing. He curses under his breath chasing that high without thinking about it. You both don't stop, your moans picking up in the same fashion he knows they normally do. It was just exactly what he needs, He gets lost in the pleasure and listening to you small 'just like that omg's that you managed to get out. He's no longer holding his own sounds back either, whiny moans coming from him as his hips buck up to meet his servo. It goes like that for a few second before lets go, coming all over his servo. The whiny string of groans and moans pushing you over the edge. Your own orgasm following right after the bots. The call was nothing but panting as you both caught your breaths.

"Feeling better now, baby?"

He gave a quiet 'yes' that one sentence being enough to make give want a round two.

#I’m sweating like a cornered nun #this is amazing #whew #prowl

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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A vision came upon me, so I had to.

And bonus little Powerglide who's totally fine

#omg I love this so much #I love them #transformers #astoria carlton ritz #powerglide

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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fortress maximus having breakfast with you in your shared apartment.

swerve shaking up drinks for human patrons at his bar.

rodimus walking his date down the street of their home.

ratchet and drift going through the christmas market. skids helping you with your jewellery by the vanity table. velocity pushing the cart while you shop for groceries.

give me the domestic bliss i deserve with my sixty foot tall alien husband or i will explode like confetti.

#word barf #transformers #mtmte #lost light #fortress maximus #rodimus #swerve #skids #ratchet #drift

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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If you're taking requests, can I make one for Whirl with a human fem SO who's just as insane and violence happy as he is? Bonus if you include the reactions of the LL crew to this.

"Oh fuck, now there are two of them!"

my love is a sharp, wild thing. (whirl / fem!so). slightly suggestive. mentions of fighting & violence because it's whirl lol

" Impressive moves, sweetspark."

The second the landing pad latched itself back onto the ship, Whirl was already out to greet you. Yellow optic, wide with something playful," Care to show some to me tonight?"

You placed your hand across your mouth, feigning shyness as your lover picked you up in his claws to nuzzle your forehead, " Oh, stop it you."

Somewhere in the crowd of weary, injured mechs, someone muttered in disgust about how you were still covered in energon, drenched head to toe in Decepticon remains. But of course, they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't — couldn't possibly understand the beauty, the seduction, of having you wild and dirty and battered. Yet triumph and seething with rage. He was already trying to kiss your lips. Trying to chase the bright, red cut you sported from a nasty brawl with the enemy. It was quite the sight to see from the cameras, you fiercely cutting through the spark chambers of mechs thirty times your size.

He would've been down there with you if Rodimus hadn't purposefully tricked him out of it — it doesn't matter now, he thought, he got the footage seared into the back of his processor, and you're back in his embrace. Skin still prickling with adrenaline from the fight.

" I mean it, squishy. From the bottom of my spark !" " Don't tempt me into carving it out to see for myself, you flirt." Someone in the back of the room groaned. Maybe it was Rewind. Then it must have been Chromedome too. "You sure do know how to sweep a Decepticon off his feet."

Smiling at his wicked sense of humor, you gestured to your weapon with a wink, " What can I say? I know how to bring a guy down to his knees. It always works when you remove their legs."

The two of you shared a laugh, exiting the room to leave a trail of curious and confused optics in your wake. From his peripheral, Whirl could see Megatron pinch the bridge of his nose ( and that made his spark swell with pride.) Ratchet already exhaling through his intake as Swerve yells out dramatically — " Great! There are two of them now. That means another person I have to ban from the bar when it's happy hour."

And when he's done helping you scrub the dried liquid off your body, touches turning desperate, rough — but when is anything ever gentle between the two of you? It was always a push, a pull, a shove: a kiss felt like a punch, and love burned like a wound.

Not everyone will understand, Whirl thought. He knows they call him crazy. Calls this crazy.

But he lets you flip him on his back: your legs straddled across his waist while his talons dig against the flesh of your hips. Your teeth sank against his neck cables, his grip bruising your skin purple. Fighting was always the closest thing Whirl understood to affection.

Not everyone will understand. So it's a good fragging thing he never cared about anyone else. And that he was never sane to begin with.

#thanks for requesting anon #hope you like it !#lol always love to write about whirl #even if i'm afraid of making him out of character #whirl #whirl / you #whirl x reader #idw #mtmte #transformers #requests #anon #one shot #imagine #tf

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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Do not forget

That Optimus would want you to fight not only for what is right but for those who cannot.

Megatron would want you to unforgivably be yourself and do not be afraid to put others in their place when they dare question you for who you are.

Ratchet would want you to strive for everything. To be a relentless force in helping others.

Starscream would tell you to put on your highest heels and walk. Strut. Fucking crawl if you have to. And hold your head up darling. The crown cannot fall. What others think does not matter.

Jazz would want you to be good to not only yourself but for who you are about to become. Put on you battle music and blare it though your headphones and walk out into this world and take whatever comes at you. Because If you can’t do it with style don’t bother doing it.

Soundwave would tell you to be loyal to who you are. To who you care about. Being two faced only gets you so far. Fuck anyone who thinks your way of thinking or your way of simply being is scary. If you have those few who truly care don’t every let them go.

Prowl would want you to stop and think. To analyze. Who wants to make their next move half blind and unable to walk. Think about what you are going to do and make it work better.

Knockout would make you take care of yourself. You can only get so far without those steal-belted radials. So put on your war paint and battle amour and show that fuck what he/she missed and will never get back.

Rung will tell you to slow down. Think about what makes you feel better. Let time come and fix what you have missed. Don’t stress yourself over the little things.

Cyclonus may not tell you much but he will show you how to forgive yourself. How to strive to be a better you. Maybe getting yourself a good friend or companion who will help you see yourself for who you really are.

AN: This is all unedited. The first bots and cons that I could name off of the top of my head. A spur of the moment thing you know? I don’t know if I will ever do this again with different bots or cons. It’s up to you though. Would any of you like to see more?

#transformers #lost light #favorites

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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IDW1 Ratchet and Pharma

#pharma is gorgeous omg #transformers #humanformers #ratchet #pharma

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wifetomegatron · 5 months

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this is a half-baked drabble and if i wasn't so burnout from university i would actually have the strength to write something of substance on the topic. but just imagine the lost light having a temporary replacement for the human liaison — who is on a much-needed shore leave — and its the teenage girl they (the liason) have mentored back on earth (considering that there is an academy/institution to train members diplomats working on behalf of the council of worlds ).

clever, overachieving and uptight she had just turned twenty and is currently the youngest intergalactic diplomat from earth. and the council decided to put her under the care of rodimus and co. can you even imagine the chaos?

on the first day, the captain had backflipped into the bridge to kick start her orientation, not expecting the girl to look at him with a brow raised: unimpressed if not appalled by the lack of professionalism. his disappointment was enough to make half the ship erupt in laughter, and ever since then, it had become rodimus' mission to win her over. ( it was also the day the influx of betting began.)

megatron was somewhat impressed at her passivity towards him —her courage borders closer to disinterest, the same way she regards everything outside of her work — if not a little insulted. she doesn't seem to care if she was talking to the mech who wanted to blow up her planet only half a decade ago. as long as he signs the forms to gainher to access the ship's database, he was just another walking, talking authorisation code.

the common opinion was that minimus would be pleased by her diligent work ethic if he wasn't somewhat concerned, and that was rare, coming from him — he sees a lot of himself in her. in a way, she wore her own magnus armor: the cold, serious exterior was evidently a way for her to hide the crippling fear of never being able to measure up. (she fumbles her fingers together in worry and taps her feet against the tables when she thinks no one is looking.)

confident and very much vain, she would always get into heated debates with perceptor. brainstorm enjoys the challenge, finding it amusing how she always ends up storming out of the lab with both arms crossed. the ambitious, know-it-all would always find a way to stubbornly have the final word, even if it meant dragging the argument for weeks on end. which was the birth of the iconic three-month debate that only ended because megatron had to intervene.

the first ones to truly see her, beneath the cracks and past her line of defenses, were the medics. ratchet knows deep down, underneath the pompous, snobby exterior, she's just afraid. she's afraid of the responsibility shoved into her arms and the burden of representing an entire planet. velocity is in charge of her monthly checkups and she strongly advises against the levels of paracetamol she's taking: knowing that the only solution against the ever-present migraines was for her to unclench her jaws and stop working. and yet the girl is always hunched over the table, typing, writing, studying — first aid doesn't have the slightest clue about coffee and its significance on the human body other than that it keeps them awake. but he knows drinking over five cups a day can't possibly be healthy.

her prodigious intellect had unknowingly dragged in the interest of prowl — who, for his own opportunistic goals — had offered to mentor her before her arrival aboard the ship. the former autobot prosecutor had used his title during megatron's title to declare himself sufficiently reliable in teaching cybertronian law to her, claiming to be more dependable than even minimus. they had handed her away to him too quickly, without ever remembering that this was the same ruthless mech whose borderline-cruel reputation proceeded him. and so when he called her incompetent over the phone for a single, silly typo, she had burst into tears. pushing past the med bay doors to cry above ratchet's servos.

she cried and cried and cried, and suddenly everyone remembers the fact that she is a child — no more than twenty, which is barely half a lifespan and less than a minute for these titans — held together by the expensive frills of her clothes to hide that they were the only thing holding her together. without her facade, she is lonely and empty, drained to the bone even if the tears don't stop.

ever since then, rodimus had switched his goals up a little, trading it for the ingenious plan to give her the big, stress-free, holiday she'd been too afraid to even dream about. they go on leave for strange, exotic new planets where she can play poker with brainstorm and perceptor instead of arguing about who's smarter. where nautica and riptide help her learn how to surf — the brainiac had mastered it in less than an hour and rodimus being jealous was an understatement. he ignored ratchet's remark on how he was even too heavy to stay afloat on water to begin with. chromedome and rewind takes turn in blocking prowl's attempts at calling her when she's relaxing, going as far as to even 'accidentally' toss the her phone out of airlock. she wasn't very pleased by swerve is doing an excellent job at distracting her with his jokes. even cyclonus was part of the plan, going as far as to teach her how to meditate.

it was working : velocity announces that her weight was back to normal. she starts to laugh more, no longer bothered by the loudness of her joy. the colour returning to her cheeks.

movie nights with tailgate became a weekly routine, and now and then, bots would bend down to ask the tiny human if she had drank water, stretched, or even slept. flustered by the oncoming attention, she was almost overwhelmed when whirl had appeared in the hallways to chase her down with her waterbottle — yelling about how she still had to finish it before the day ended.

#this reader insert is just my self projection in a heavy coat #transformers #swerve #rodimus #megatron #minimus #chromedome #rewind #whirl #lost light #mtmte #scenario #imagine #drabble #transformers idw #tf imagines #prowl

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