#megatron headcanon

[perishindefiance]

♣ - a fading memory

Pages: 9

Words: 4,709

Quiet

            The energon was not the most refined. It had a grit that caught in the intakes and the mess of alloys within gave it a nearly bitter taste. It was all they had, however, produced from a machine kept within the mines they toiled in. Once an enterprising young mech in their retinue had snatched some standard grade energon from the supervisor. He’d managed to get enough to share with D-16, Roughshod, and the rest of their delinquent team.

            You would have thought they were imbibing high grade. The smooth texture was unlike anything they’d had before. Unlike the rough, gritty, energon they were usually rationed, this energon did not require them to take in so much to feel properly fueled. It was another area D-16 could see in which the caste system failed. It tried to be so efficient, so clean and concise, and yet it failed to recognize so much as a basic need to those who were placed below.

            His memory of the standard grade was still strong as D-16 bit down on a chunk of energon too large to simply swallow. The crystal shattered against his denta and he caught a particularly thick clump of alloys that bit into his tongue, almost prompting him to spit out the foully flavored substance. At least he, large as he was, did not suffer as greatly as the smaller mechs. Many of them left their energon cubes with large chunks of energon unconsumed within. Unable to break down and process the practically raw material. His larger frame necessitated that he take in more fuel, and because of his stature these chunks proved no issue for him.

            Seated across from D-16, as he so often did, was Roughshod. The older mech was gazing down at the data pad in his hand reading through one of D-16’s writings. Of the group that D-16 had joined upon his awakening, as it were, only he, Roughshod, and W3-K3R were left and W3-K3R was suffering from an ailment that left him seated on the floor of their workspace back, deep, within the mine. There were two new ones, but D-16 feared they would not last long. Neither was quite as large as he or Roughshod, their armor not quite so thick, their processors not quite as strong. The one, T-86, was jumpy at the best of times. Leaping out of his armor plating at the faintest of noises or motion.

            It wouldn’t be long now before they had three new members. Roughshod would report their deactivation and, if the body could be salvaged, enforcers would come and drag it away. No one knew where they took them, but there were rumors. Whispers of smelting vats, of half-living mechs being thrown into them when they could no longer work. Stories of molten slag and arching flames melting armor plating. Screaming victims trying to drag themselves free, to the lip, only to be pushed back in.

            D-16 was uncertain what to make of the rumors. To a point he would not be surprised. Very little was thought of the lowest caste. Disposable tools of a lesser value than the equipment they worked with. For Roughshod’s part, he offered no opinions on the subject within hearing range of the foremen and the super.

            A pity, he felt, but there was little he could do to change their fate. He took up the more difficult jobs, trying to lessen the loads. Volunteered for some of the more dangerous ones too, capable of looking after himself with any beasts they found deep below the surface.

            Maybe that’s why Roughshod had brought him here, to a cliff face that overlooked Cybertron. Up in the free air, and hidden from aerial watchers. There was a series of catacombs throughout Cybertron, and Roughshod knew quite a few of them. This one emptied out into a vast alcove in the cliff face of the Sonic Canons. For all that it was well hidden, it was also massive. Roughshod had explained that it was a natural occurrence as there were no tool marks on the metal walls and floor. It gave them a particularly spectacular view, and a natural outcropping of metal allowed them to ascend to the top of the cliff where they could look out on Cybertron.

            “Well,” said Roughshod, tipping the data pad back and forth, a troubled look on his face, “it’s certainly something… where’d ya learn all those big words and such? Y’didn’t learn none of that down here.”

            D-16 chuckled faintly, accepting the data pad as Roughshod held it out to him. He looked down at the long script and considered his answer. Roughshod would not turn him in for the truth, but the simple knowing could be a threat. He’d watched as individuals, who knew who’d been slacking on shifts, or taking extra rations, had broken down under the foreman’s gaze, but Roughshod was not one of those mechs. Often times the foreman didn’t bother himself with Roughshod.

            “Do you remember HA-K34?” D-16 asked, a slight upward turn on his lips. HA-K34 had been a small mech, the smallest in the mining group in fact, and assigned to Roughshod’s team due to his tendency to procure things that didn’t belong to him. The very same that managed to steal enough standard grade to share with his team. Any ‘wrongdoings’ of the team ultimately fell on D-16 regardless of his guilt or lack-thereof. So, he’d felt no qualms in HA-K34’s habits.

            “I take it the little glitch stole that data pad for you,” Roughshod guessed and D-16 nodded his helm before putting the data pad away and out of sight.

            “He did, and surprisingly he managed to open it up to the Grid.”

            “Th’Grid?!” Roughshod’s surprise was evident by his sudden rise in tone. D-16 looked at him and Roughshod cursed silently under his breath. “Primus curse it, mech, yer flirtin’ with some dangerous stuff you are. If the foreman finds out ya got a connection to the Grid –”

            “The results will be no different than the myriad of other times he has taken it upon himself to eek out ‘justice’ for the wrongdoings in the mine, on me,” D-16 interrupted him, his optics narrowing to a hardened expression.

            Roughshod turned away from D-16’s optics, his elbows resting on his knees. He sighed, looking back up at D-16 out of the corner of his eyes before shaking his helm. He reached down next to his feet and picked up his energon cube, slugging the last of it back in a single motion.

            “Used to be I could look at ya straight in th’optics no matter your mood,” Roughshod said, “now, not s’much.”

            D-16’s systems rumbled just slightly. He wasn’t entirely displeased, but he wasn’t comfortable with the older mech’s admission either. Rather than dwell, D-16 tipped the rest of his own energon back, crunching down on the unrefined crystals before tossing the cube aside and leaning forward, bracing the elbow of his right arm on his knee and trying, purposefully, to capture Roughshod’s optics with his own.

            Seemingly against his will, Roughshod looked up at him.

            In the years since D-16 had joined his mining team, the young mech had changed. Optics were drawn to him, not simply because of his size, but because of a natural charisma he was beginning to develop. His steps, wherever they took him, were confident and assured. Such confidence drew in others who were somehow certain that they could be and would be safe around this daunting figure. Even the foremen and the superintendent, whenever Scatterbreaker was present, found themselves having to reckon with the innate authority of D-16. Neither were pleased with this and often targeted the young mech though it was through no fault of his own this phenomenon occurred.

            “I have no doubt,” D-16 said, “that you agree with me, Roughshod.” The older mech frowned, grimacing at D-16’s confident statement. “One need look no farther than to the care you offer those within our mining team. This is not something you are required to do, but something you desire to do. Though you cannot guarantee their safety, nor assure them that it will be there, you go to lengths to provide what you are capable of. If the possibility were open to you, and you could become foreman or the superintendent, would you take it? You who has experienced the deep depths, and has the knowledge available to recognize where we may find a large predator or scraplet nest, where the metal is weakest and likely to collapse. Would not more of our people survive if one such as you were in charge instead of those who sit within a constructed building proclaiming our purpose in serving them and showing no remorse when our frames, broken and deactivated, are dragged away? If you were able to, it would not be only our team who benefits from your expertise and wisdom, but the entire crew.”

            “You would see that we are fueled properly. That our machines are maintained in a manner that is beneficial to us, instead of leaving us in a down state during which time our rations are cut. You could organize shifts, ensuring we each had the needed downtime to properly power down and recharge. In all our output would increase. You know this. I have seen your figures – when you have chosen to share them with me – and you are capable of this. Despite your speech mannerisms, you are intelligent and organized, yet you are denied this opportunity merely because others have deemed you incapable of holding the position.”

            It was quiet for a long time between the two. Roughshod finally managing to look away from D-16, and D-16 continuing to watch him, waiting for his answer, for Roughshod to speak.

            “It’s easy t’say,” Roughshod said, finally, “and yer not the first optimist to join my group.” He was trying to deflect D-16’s statement, keeping his optics downcast. In Roughshod D-16 saw that familiar weight, the same one that had crushed all the potential from Steamspur and from their superintendent, Scatterbreaker. It hadn’t completely succeeded with Roughshod, but it was slowly crushing what little light from the Well remained from the mech over time. Beaten down and trod on as much as Roughshod was, it was a wonder he had the strength in his spark to stand up to the foremen and super at all.

            They lapsed into quiet again and for a moment D-16 thought to push the issue. Roughshod was an excellent team leader, but a leader wasn’t merely knowledge. They had to be willing to fight, to strive, and take what should rightfully be theirs. Roughshod was willing to stand up to the foremen for the sake of his team, but he was unwilling to bear the further burden of leadership.

            Instead, D-16 looked out from the overhang of the massive alcove. The daylight was fading. They had been inactive for three days now. This was their first ration in that time. The parts needed to repair the mining equipment would not arrive for another five, and repairs could take up to three days after that. It was both a disaster, and a blessing. For those in relative healthy condition it was a time in which they could rest their frames. The lack of energon would not hurt them overmuch as the ability to power down and recharge properly was enough to make up the difference, but for those who were already ill or damaged…

            W3-K3R would not make it. When Roughshod had tried to give him his ration, the mech had remained in a near comatose state. Unable to function enough to take in the fuel. If the parts arrived, and W3-K3R was still not moving, the chances were high that the guards would carry him off. There would be no medical attention waiting for him. Whatever happened to those who were carried away remained a mystery wrapped in rumors.

            If it was true. If that was to be W3-K3R’s fate, then D-16 knew what it was he had to do to prevent undue suffering. Roughshod had called on him to do as much for a few other individuals. Those partially crushed in cave-ins, calling out for help and assistance, knowing none was coming. Others who had come down with one of the sicknesses of the mind that came with operating within the dark, enclosed spaces. Another that had been partially eaten alive by scraplets; slowly bleeding out and likely to attract the remainder of the nest. The only other option they had for that one was to leave them on the opposite side as they closed off the tunnel.

            A clatter broke D-16 out of his thoughts as Roughshod’s cube joined his own in a small pile on the far side of the alcove. The older mech looked troubled. It was likely his own thoughts had followed D-16’s. It was often so with Roughshod. For an individual who claimed not to concern himself with the future, he still worried and contemplated the fate of those under his leadership.

            “Roughshod,” D-16 spoke, using his name to draw the mech out of his morose, “how was it you came by your designation? It occurred to me the day I stepped from the Well that you were named, whereas myself and the others were given a letter and number-based designation. You’re not so much older that you came from another era.”

            “Heh,” Roughshod offered a faint laugh, “a rookie made a mistake when ‘e scanned me at th’ Well. Practically fresh sparked ‘imself. He’d not been down to the Well since his own emergence an’ got caught up in the glory of it, I s’pose. Took a bit too long scannin’ me an’ when ‘e was done he told me my name. Least the one that got pulled from my spark anyhow.”

            D-16 tipped his head to the side some-what, curiosity lighting his gaze. Roughshod wasn’t looking at him, but he could feel the hungry gaze of the younger mech.

            “He ‘pulled it from your spark’?” D-16 asked, “how is it that one’s name can be pulled from their spark?”

            “It’s not somethin’ I’m learned in, but roughly the data that tells ‘em where you’re best placed at also has some information on who ya are, though not all of it. It’s scattered in yer spark, see? Heard one’ve ‘em high caste talkin’ to another youngling they were teachin’. Said it comes with time, but y’get a knack fer combinin’ and translatin’ the data. Th’ mech who looked at mine overdid it, an’ stumbled on my name before th’ foreman could stop ‘im.”

            D-16’s optics narrowed minutely. Their names were not entirely embedded within the same information that sentenced them to their roles. He was tempted once more to press his case regarding Roughshod and his ability to lead the mining crews. Or to ask him if he knew where to find this mech, but Roughshod was still refusing to look at him. Guilt was a difficult emotion to deal with and was quite capable of crushing the spirit. More capable, it seemed to D-16, than the constant pressure from the upper caste. It was a weapon they wielded against people like Roughshod liberally.

            “I’m not sayin’ yer not right,” Roughshod said a moment later, surprising D-16. The younger mech watched Roughshod carefully, and he could see a kind of sorrow in the older mech’s optics. Something was stirring him to speak. “And like I said: y’made good points in that bit o’writing of yours. Big words an’ all, and forgettin’ fer a moment yer hookin’ into th’ Grid, which we’re not supposta have access too, yer a smart mech, D-16. Smarter than a lot of ‘em down here in the mines by a fair number. Smarter than Steamspur and that glitch Scatterbreaker.” Roughshod shifted on his seat, clenching his fists and making the metal of his hands groan from the pressure. “But y’gotta understand; there ain’t nothin’ any of us can do t’change what’s goin’ on.”

            “It ain’t easy, I know,” Roughshod continued, wiping at his mouth as if something was there – a nervous habit – and turning finally to glance at D-16, but never quite meeting his eyes. “But y’gotta just accept that this is it. This is all we get. It ain’t much, it ain’t pretty, it ain’t fair, I’d never say it was, but this is the lot we got handed. All we can do is protect them that’s under us best we can, an’ do a good enough job that those glitches overlook th’ occasional hiccup or upstart. All yer gonna do by spoutin’ all this stuff about equality and how a frame don’t ‘define function’ as y’put it, is get yerself assigned to a mining shaft tha’s ready to cave an’ when the roof comes crashin’ down on ya, alive or not, they’re gonna leave ya to yer fate.”

            “I want t’protect ya all s’well as I can. All of ya are troublemakers. Primus frag it, I was one when I first came down t’the mines, but y’gotta understand. Eventually it catches up t’ya somehow, someway. Either you git killed or…”

            Here, Roughshod stopped. Pain had slowly eaten away at his voice until it was rougher, more broken, and his optics had burned the few times D-16 had managed to look at them. This was no beaten down individual crying defeat, but a passionate plea to D-16 to try and warn him of a lesson already learned. Roughshod had lost people, and perhaps it was because of his ability to work well, the fact he learned the areas where the metal was weakest, where they may find a scraplet nest, or the signs that a large predator was near, that the super had kept him on as long as he did without arranging an ‘accident’, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t punished him in another way.

            D-16 was at a loss; both concerned and disgusted. Why would anyone give up? If they had done something to discourage Roughshod from voicing his opinions on the matter, wasn’t that all the more reason to fight back? Perhaps, for some, it wasn’t possible. If they were not strong enough to protect those they stood for, if they were not powerful enough to fight back against those who wished to oppress them. Power was required. Words were meaningless if one could not back it up with force. Scatterbreaker’s word was law because he had the power to enforce it. The guards were merciless when he gave the order. Those who were beaten badly enough were often dragged away immediately, leaving Scatterbreaker standing over those who were left and contemplating out loud whether they could continue working, or if they needed to be removed as well.

            Every single individual would immediately assure him they could work, and as punishment Scatterbreaker would cut their rations for days on end. Against such control, was it possible to fight back and win? Roughshod was not a small mech, but D-16 towered over him. He was nearly head and shoulders taller than every other mech in their mining team. Only one or two others matched his height, but there was no sense of identity to them. They lumbered about the mine, carrying heavy equipment and plodding along as though their daily lives were nothing more than routine.

            Except for when Scatterbreaker called on them to enforce his orders. These, along with his guards, was the might that made his words law.

            “Eh,” Roughshod grunted, pushing himself up onto his feet. “Enough of all this. I didn’t bring yeh here s’we could get lost inter somethin’ that we can’t change. It’s finally ‘bout the right season fer ‘em, and I wanted t’show you something s’long as we’re broken down. C’mon.”

            Without waiting for D-16 to agree, Roughshod made his way towards the outcropping of metal. D-16 had to be more careful than Roughshod as he followed the older mech up along the cliff face. The snaking path lead them up to the top of the cliff following along several switch-backs. The gouges and other marks in the metal made D-16 suspicious that someone had purposefully chiseled out the hand holds along the way, providing as much security as possible to anyone who traversed it. Ultimately climbing the remainder of the cliff face was no more dangerous than the time spent miles beneath the surface of the planet mining for energon. Heights did not bother D-16. They enthralled him.

            The sun was hitting the horizon when D-16 made it to the top of the cliff face. On the far side the Sonic Canyons butted up against a massive plain, and in the distance D-16 could see a massive storm forming. His optics widened as he looked over the vast surface, turning to take in the sights before him, and then gazing down and into the canyon itself. Cybertron, as a whole, was so much larger than he could have fathomed down beneath its surface. Each tunnel only marginally appearing different than the other, but here on the surface?

            “Look there,” Roughshod told him, bumping an elbow against D-16’s side. Turning to gaze in the direction Roughshod was pointing him to, D-16 did not notice anything at first. His optics searching for this thing that Roughshod wanted to show him. Certainly the sunset was beautiful, he had seen it before and remembered sharply the first time Roughshod had brought him to the surface to watch it, and then later to watch the sunrise, but had he really brought him up here to see this?

            “Watch,” Roughshod told him, pointing now with an outstretched finger, tracing something in the air, “they’re hard t’see right now, but if ya give it a minute…”

            Obliging the older mech, D-16 turned his optics to the direction that Roughshod was pointing him to and, indeed, in the sky he could see something moving about through the atmosphere. Small somethings dipped and dove through the last remaining heat currents rising up from the planet, but as he watched them, he began to notice something else too.

            Colors began to trail after whatever was flying through the atmosphere of the planet. At first, they were dim, D-16 was forced to squint and focus his optics on the shapes to make them out, being careful not to look directly into the sun, but just above it. As he watched, however, those colors grew more vibrant, brighter, until long streaking tails followed after each of the creatures, and bright arches rose out from their bodies, cutting across the air in a glorious display.

            Against the dimming sky, the orange of the sun, and the deep purple of an oncoming twilight, the bright blues and greens shimmered in the air, seeming to sparkle in some places as though reacting to something in the air. Each contrail followed behind the objects and the longer they flew the brighter the colors. The ‘tails’ and ‘wings’ grew longer until it seemed as if they were limbs belonging to the creatures that drifted across his field of vision. Floating, ethereal, in the air. Like thin filament spread across the budding sea of stars that were slowly pricking the sky above.

            D-16 was reminded, deeply, of the Well of All Sparks. These creatures, they were not quite as magnificent as the Well, but the beauty they held sparked nostalgia in D-16’s spark. He longed to gaze once more upon the Well. To see the beautifully arching light and color as newly emerged cybertronians stepped out. Their optics so bright and filled with questions, with potential. Untold futures laying ahead of them if only the caste system were not being utilized to curtail them into roles others believed them best fitted for.

            A long, low, trill slowly reached his audio receptors. He had never heard music before, but he had read about it from the Grid. A song, he thought it could be called. It warbled, rising and falling with the motion of the creatures diving and soaring. The calls seemed to effect the ribbons of light that followed after them, shifting the blues and greens to brighter colors, and dimming them as they hit a low note. D-16 almost grieved when the low notes sounded, but they accentuated the high notes so well that he knew it would be a travesty to remove them from the call the creatures were sending out.

            “They are… beautiful,” D-16 said in a quiet voice, daring not to disturb the air with his words, but needing to express what he was feeling in some manner. “What are they? Do you know?”

            “Aurabirds,” Roughshod said his voice equally quiet, but with a smile on his face D-16 could not see with his gaze enraptured by the sight before him. “Saw ‘em once when I went topside with Steamspur an’ a fancy mech who’d come t’inspect the energon we’d mined for th’day. Friendly mech, actually. Seemed t’be the laid-back type. Guessin’ he had a thing fer birds, ‘cause like you I couldn’t help but t’ask, and before Steamspur could get after me ‘bout keeping silent ‘e told me about ‘em.”

            As D-16 continued to watch the aurabirds fly through the air, swooping and circling one another, Roughshod went on to explain that the creatures actually fed on particles in the air that were released by the planet. The long swooping trails were a chemical reaction that played out across their frames as they collected the particles using a sensitive membrane carefully extended between their plating. Because the particles they collected required certain conditions to be met to be released from the surface, the birds often migrated. Moving from one end of Cybertron to the other, following fluctuations that their systems were sensitive to.

            Other nicknames for them included ‘Well Birds’ because there were periods of time throughout the Cybertronian year that they could be found flying over the Well of All Sparks during a particularly busy emergence period. Some Ornithologists theorized this was because the sides of the Well would heat to a greater degree, releasing the particles in a greater amount. Whole flocks could sometimes be found flying in and amidst the upper rays of light.

            Still some others, who were superstitious, claimed varying portents would befall those who emerged ‘under the wings’.

            “Actually,” Roughshod said after a moment, thoughtful, “th’ day you were sparked I thought I saw one o’them Aurabirds flyin’ about overhead. Was kinda strange, actually. Yer group was pretty numerous, one o’the highest that’d been seen fer a while, but there was only one. ‘Course, most of ‘em wasn’t very big either. You were by far th’largest of the group. Normally with big emergences like that the whole group’s filled with bigger frames or at least quite a few more Seekers in any event.”

            D-16 did not remember such a thing, but then again, his own optics had been caught up by the people around him. Looking to the future he believed he could see in them. He frowned, a little disappointed he’d missed seeing it, but the disappointment was eased as he gazed up at the group that now flew before him.

            Better, he thought, to have this memory here for him with a friend than one darkened by the reality of his future. To equate the yanking of wires from his helm to this glorious sight, and the dying light he predicted from those who joined him that day. So many of them now lost. Either to other crews, or the crushing weight of the work they were assigned.

            “Thank you,” D-16 said, his voice quiet. Roughshod said nothing in return, there was no need. D-16 was already lost in the sight before him. Moving towards the edge of the Sonic Canyon and seating himself there; legs dangling over the edge as though he sat upon the edge of the world, and gazed up into the heavens. Watching the arching lines of colors as the aurabirds fed on the rising particles released from the planet.

            Roughshod joined him, sitting next to the younger mech, and watching in silent as night fell.

#Megatron Drabbles #Megatron Headcanon #Ask Memes #Honestly this is a bit tragic #It's a happy memory but the fact that it's fading only shows how easily over powered something like this can be by a negative experience #It only gets worse from here gang

[doctorsilverhead]

Heal Me! (Bayverse Optimus X Human Reader) Headcanons!

To set the mood: Trailer

At first, Optimus was hesitant and did not trust you, either because you were a complete stranger or because he had been betrayed many times before. However, as time passed and you and the Autobots became closer and worked together, you became great friends with both the Autobots and Optimus.

You would always leave Optimus being inspired by your acts and words. He would show a lot of respect for you.

Whenever Optimus or the other Autobots were harmed, no matter how slight or severe, you would become extremely anxious, and Optimus would find it adorable.

Optimus really wouldn't get any time to talk to you, either because of him being busy or you being busy but when he does, that is during midnight, you both would engage in a rather in conversation talking about your private lives or past. Him sipping his energon and you sipping your coffee would talk for hours and even cry on each other's shoulder.

He loves it when you touch him during your regular check-ups. He fantasises about you caressing him out of affection.

He would even go so far as to fake his injuries or intentionally injure himself in order to meet you or be touched by your small fragile hands.

Poor Optimus cries on his knees every night, because he knows you would not love him in the same way he does or at least he thought you wouldn't. :)

It would be difficult for him to resist the want to simply hold you securely close to his spark, kiss you, or touch you and have his way with you. But he would fight them while remaining in control of himself.

Everyone knew Optimus was in love with you since his entire attitude changed around you,from being a prime, a protector, the great leader of the Autobots to a soft,shy and nervous robot. 

Despite everyone telling him to express his feelings to you, he would hide them inside himself and never say or admit anything to you. He was too afraid of what the consequences would be.

#optimus prime x reader #transformers g1 #megatron #transformers bayverse #optimus prime #transformers x reader #transformers au #transformers prime #tfp #transformers headcanons #bumblebee #autobots #dark deception #decepticons #optimus x reader #arcee #orion pax #optimus x megatron #optimus x elita #optimus x ratchet

[emelinstriker]

May you share your TFP Decepticon headcanons 👁️👁️

If you want specifics, then their domestic lives? (Or what one can achieve akin to a domestic life in time of war 💀)

I did NOT expect to see any ask regarding TFP- Or at least till I switch fandoms again- So like I can't really think of many X Reader headcanons right now. So I just wrote down like 3 for each. I'm also not quite sure how to condense domestic points, cuz I suck at general fluff when my hyperfixation is elsewhere- So sorry if these don't feel like they're really in the domestic direction fhgnfhg

Only doing some Decepticons though-

☆ ~ Headcanons ~ ☆

☆ Megatron

He do be a busy mech, so he doesn't have too much time on his servos. Therefore he cherishes it whenever he gets to have private moments with just his human and no interruptions.

Likes to carry you around on his shoulder pad- It just generally makes it safer for you, in his opinion, and more comforting for him.

Any that would merely look at you weirdly would face the wrath of Lord Megatron. You can tell him not to punish the other Cybertronian though. He does listen... sometimes.

☆ Starscream

Mans refusing to show affection towards you around other Decepticons, especially Megatron. But he's just melting around you when in private.

He prefers recharging with you lying on him. It's oddly soothing having his human on his chassis.

Tends to look for you as comfort whenever he had a bad day with Megatron.

☆ Soundwave

Despite the amount of work he does and how busy he is, he doesn't really fail at also paying attention to you. He's truly a multi-tasker.

Would let Laserbeak play with you though if his extra appendages and music can't keep you busy.

Very loving towards his human. He may not talk, but he uses emoticons on his visor to display how much he loves you.

☆ Shockwave

Just don't play with whatever materials he needs to conduct his experiments and you're good to go. Play with his antennae and ear fins while on his shoulder pad instead.

He gets easily distracted by his human. He knows it's illogical with the major size difference, and how he should just be able to ignore you. But he can't help it nor explain this phenomenon.

He also also can't explain why he has this urge to gently pat you with a digit.

☆ Knockout

While he does buff himself on his own, or has Breakdown help him, he does enjoy it when you're buffing him instead as well. Especially when he's in his alt mode.

Speaking of which, expect drive-in theater dates. Just don't get his interior dirty with snack crumbs.

Worries a lot about your health. If you're sick, he'll keep you close to him to make sure you're actually alright. But no kisses from him till you're no longer coughing and sneezing. He just buffed himself and doesn't need your sickly fluids on his frame.

☆ Predaking

Tends to pick up you up whenever he wants attention. You were talking to Steve? Nah, now you gotta give you giant mecha dragon pets and kisses.

He also enjoys carrying you around on his frame whenever he can. At least he won't have to look where he goes this way.

While he has to go on missions from time to time, it's not a common thing due to his value, so a lot of his time is spent protectively watching over his human.

#tfp x reader #transformers prime #headcanons #megatron x reader #starscream x reader #soundwave x reader #shockwave x reader #knockout x reader #predaking x reader #cybertronian x human #transformers x human

[michaela-o]

oh..i tried😭🙏

#transformers #transformers headcanons #transformers x reader #tf mtmte #transformers mtmte #mtmte rodimus #mtmte megatron #christ help me #this wasn't planned #help- #what even is that😭 #autobots #feel free to make jokes #plz😭

[cinderoo]

when one of your friends catches you spreading rumors about her

#transformers #kotobukiya bishoujo #humanformers #tf g1 #transformers g1 #starscream #megatron #anime screencap #comic #long post #fanart #maccadam #artists on tumblr #cinderoo #i personally headcanon that starscream still tries to backstab megatron so she could be the leader of decepticons #(and she deserves to be leader) #but sometimes her schemes fail and she gets caught #starscream bullying is real

[showstopper35]

TFP Cons Reacting To You Calling Them Pretty

a/n: I am taking my friend’s advice and channelling my depression into art. If this can even be called “art”.

Not A Communist ™️

Lieutenant Noodle Digits

#1 Mean Girls Fan

The Crab From Moana

The Con’s Only Himbo

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

Creepy Crawley

DreadRedRedemtionWing

Toothless on Steroids

#tfp #transformers prime #tf #transformers #transformers x reader #Tfp headcanons #tf headcanons #transformers headcanons #megatron #decepticons #decepticons x reader #Tfp cons #tfp decepticons #decepticon headcanons #soundwave #shockwave #starscream

[smilingdawn]

Decepticons: Lord Megatron's plan is shit

Decepticons: yeah but who's gonna tell him?

Decepticons:

#i used to think that starscream being the only decepticon to insult megatron to his face was a headcanon until i read the comics #megatron #starscream #astrotrain #blitzwing #thundercracker #maccadams

[the-shy-lonely-weirdo]

This comic I started a looooooooong time ago and just… never finished it? I had more to it, but never got around to it. If anyone wants more, I might try to finish it.

ANYWAY I headcanon only miners, warframes and Seekers have red optics, thus giving them negative association to the general public. So Megatronus makes his optics blue so he can seem more “like the higher class” and become more “approachable.”

#tf #transformers prime #maccadam #orion pax #megatronus #Megatron #Optimus Prime #headcanons #transformers #tfp #comic #optics #issart #megop #megaop

[thewiglesswonder]

TFA StarOp, part four.

#thanks to monkey for the quote #anyway yeah. this is how it happens #I’m exceedingly fond of the headcanon that Screamer and Megs were once really close friends #and start to rediscover that friendship in the hypothetical aftermath I’ve constructed #so yeah the sequence of events here #Starscream recieves a life altering frag and a processor boggling amount of overloads #wakes up the next morning #helps Optimus sneak back into his team’s base #then proceeds to kick Megatron’s door open and tell him EVERYTHING #my art #tf #tfa #transformers #transformers animated #maccadam #starscream #tfa starscream #megatron #tfa megatron #starop #tfa starop

[lord-squiggletits]

With all due respect IDW Megatron is the kind of dad that would go out to get cigarettes and then never see his kids again considering that's what he did to all of the Decepticons leaving on the Lost Light + he groomed Tarn into worshipping him as a mentor/authority figure and then basically stopped caring about him.

#squiggposting #a meme was posted in a discord chat and we discussed #i think all dad comparisons should be purely for memes and not lik #textually interpreting characters as being parentz #but still come on megs would be a horrible dad ksfjaidjsj #at the very least he's so full of personal issues that i would see him seriously struggling #idk idw megs can be like an AUTHORITY FIGURE or someone who lays down the rules #but he's like 0 percent nurturing or emotionally communicative #he has almost no ability to be vulnerable and is overall very cutting in the way he speaks #idk like i'm not gonna say YOUR HEADCANON IS WRONG if people like dadly megatron #but this is just one of those things i dont agree with the fandom memes and jokes

[errolluck]

Your honor, they are ace and in love.

(Soundwave would totally respect Meg's boundaries. Being a supportive husband 100% fits him)

#transformers #transformers fanart #transformers prime #megatron #soundwave #megasound #tfp megatron #tfp soundwave #tfp megasound #tfp fanart #asexuality #asexual #This is was made as a stress reliever due to what happened yesterday with my fanfic #Ace MegaSound makes me happy #Megatron being asexual is one of my main headcanons #maccadam

[perishindefiance]

✈ - an eye-opening memory

Pages: 6

Words: 3,294

Enlightened

              It was bright and fierce. Wild, writhing and lashing upwards in lingering tendrils of light. Always reaching upwards.

              Life. Ferocious and ever reaching. Uncontainable. It was on the lip of such a font of being that he, and many others, milled about in a group before separating and moving into one of several lines. It was difficult to take their eyes off the glory at their backs. Each of them almost drawn to the glow, wondering… just… wondering. Thoughts so varied and querying after whatever it was that drifted across their budding minds.

              And questions. So many questions, tumbling one over the other as they looked between each other before they were called forward. Some tried to question, to ask something of the ones that welcomed them and while some were answered and even encouraged, others were ignored and pushed forward towards another waiting group.

              He was within his own thoughts. He understood that he existed, that he was a person. Nameless, perhaps, yes. He understood what names were and the inherent importance they provided to the individual. Even now, standing amongst his peers and watching as those carrying great wings upon their back were called forth by another so highly polished the lights of the Well reflected on the brilliant surface, and others – smaller, more fragile – walked towards several groups, he understood each was an individual. They all questioned. They all were and could become. Potential. Limitless potential. Not unlike the force of life they had stepped from. Each one held within themselves possibility. Futures.

              This recognition led him to study each face that turned towards him. Analyzing them, questioning: what were they capable of? What could they craft with their hands? Dream of with their Sparks? What far-reaching plane could they see within their minds? Yes. Here, at the beginning of all things for his peers, and for himself, he recognized the simple truth: there were no true obstacles they could not overcome.

              And yet… there were some who could not see this. They who stood around the Well. They whom pointed, gesturing either with care or with rushed aggravation, towards the next to step forward. They appeared blinded to the truth this newly sparked Cybertronian could see, plainly, with his optics mere moments after stepping from whence he was born. His was not a mind vulnerable to the innocence and naïveté sometimes found in the freshly sparked, the newly born. Already there was calculation.

              His body was heavy. It was large. He stood far taller than the majority of individuals who walked and milled about on the lip of the Well. His right arm was heavier than his left. A cylindrical tube of reinforced metal weighed it down. His armor was thick, his systems were powerful, and though he was heavy he did not feel burdened with the weight. Instead, he felt fortified. Each step echoed faintly and his optics slowly scanned the crowd of mechs who looked about with varying degrees of bright optics. Primarily blue, but with a smattering of green and orange. He saw within them differing amounts of thought. Some so bright their systems seemed to burst with the thirst for knowledge. Others dimmer, calmer, but still taking in their surroundings, but most were simply absorbed in their observation of the Well.

              Very few were willing to look at his optics.

              The gesture came his way from an individual of garish color. Burnt orange and gray. Logos, decales, arrayed on his frame to make him more noticeable. They reflected strongly in the light of the well. The orange one was large, but not so large as he, the nameless one, was. Indeed, he was small enough that it required of him to bend his knees so cabling could be attached to the back of his helm.

              Vulnerable, that position, and yet the order to bend down was barked out. A snarling, rough voice of someone who expected to be obeyed. He thought to question it. Thought to challenge. The urge to resist burned deep, but there was patience as well. He would see what it was that the others had endured.

              Data. Dialect, basic programming upgrades. Each one meticulously examined and then applied to systems. Inoculations, anti-viral in nature designed to protect delicate systems and processors. The burnt orange mech continued to grumble, stumpy digits jabbing at the data pad in his hands. Hands that were clunky and acted clunky, but were they always?

              “Mining class. Number Designation D-16. Equip accordingly. Move along and join the group,” the burnt orange mech finally said, his voice grating like so much scrap heaped and crushed. Stubby digits wrapped around the cords connected to his – to D-16’s – helm and pulled. Yanking. Ripping free of sensitive connectors with a spark and with pain.

              D-16 snarled and stood; his optics narrowed as he looked down at the smaller mech. Two others took a step closer, types of poles in their hands flickering at the edges. He looked to them, assessing them. They held tight to their weapons, clutching them to their chests. Their posture, previously balanced and practiced, had stiffened. Watching them the intuition came to him that they were afraid. Or, at the very least, more cautious of him than they had been of the other thicker-frames that had passed before him.

              “Ironbolt, civil engineer; my designation is Scatterbreaker. This is…” close by, another individual received their designation. A far more friendly individual began introductions with another in the group and gave a short outline of what was expected of them. Others were receiving similar, or far better treatment. Scientific division, Artisan, Data specialists, and governing. Labels thrown out, applied as though the sum total of an individual could be so easily described.

              He, D-16, looked down at he burnt orange mech and with merely a raising of an optical ridge he offered the silent inquiry: why had he received a simple letter and number combination, and not a name?

              Under his gaze, the burnt orange mech straightened himself, as though that would mitigate the difference in their height, but offered no answer. The pair of mechs holding the weapons stepped closer and adjusted their grip.

              “Move along and join the group, D-16,” the burnt orange mech told him in a voice that, were D-16 a lesser mech, was no doubt intended to intimidate.

              He was not intimidated. Fists clenched and air hissed from freshly formed hydraulics. For now, words were not his friend, nor ally. He knew not how to use them properly. The pair with the weapons had given away their caution of him, but they were also prepared. The burnt orange mech was not the threat, his optics focused on the pair and he watched them shift under his gaze.

              “Don’tcha get your gears grindin’,” a second voice broke on his audio receptors, this one similarly gravely, but with an intone that D-16 believed was meant to be friendly. His gaze did not waver from the pair with the weapons, but with a measured walk a fourth mech came into his line of sight. This mech with thick armor, a dingy and scraped faded-yellow paint scheme, a wide chest, and powerful arms, did not flinch or otherwise present concern for D-16’s presence. Instead, and much to his bemusement, the yellow mech turned his back and held his hands up to the two weapon-wielding mechs.

              “I warned ya, yankin’ those wires from the new sparks helms was gonna end up back firing on you. All’d need to happen is yankin’ ‘em free from a new spark who’s not awestruck by the goin’s on. All ya had t’do was look at this one and you’d realize he wasn’t distracted like most of ‘em is.”

              His vocabulary was not quite as eloquent as the burnt orange mech, but neither compared to several of the other conversations still being had. Other weapon-wielding individuals were paying close attention to what was happening, but otherwise it would appear as though his situation was ultimately being ignored.

              “Roughshod,” the burnt orange mech’s voice was short, but also held weary acknowledgement, “I’ll overlook the behavior if you get D-16 over with the others.”

              “’Course, Steamspur,” Roughshod said and turned to look up at D-16. Despite his thicker frame and armor, Roughshod was still quite a bit shorter than he was. He offered D-16 an amicable smile and without hesitation placed a hand on the larger mech’s right arm in a feeble attempt to turn him. “C’mon then. Let’s get back and join the others. We need to get’cha situated with gear ‘n’ the necessary decals before we head down to the mines.”

              D-16 turned his gaze back to the burnt orange mech, Steamspur, and then to the two guards. He saw little of the vitality and curiosity of the group he had been standing with moments ago before so unceremoniously been given a letter-and-number assignment; it could not be so much as considered a designation. In them he saw all that they had been born with withered and dried. Dead. Crushed under an unknown weight, a force he did not yet understand.

              He considered resistance. These three, he felt, would not be capable of subduing him. Of all those who had been sparked he was the largest of the group, larger even than the ‘officials’ standing about in a semi-circle around the Well. A firm belief formed in his spark that these three could fall to him. Their stiff movements, the way their optics flicked and jittered as they watched him. The caution with which the pair of guards had approached him…

              Without taking his optics off of the group of three, D-16 slowly turned himself and allowed Steamspur to lead him away. He was not surrendering. Merely withdrawing. Though he was oddly certain he could overcome the three who were treating him so poorly, his systems and scans seemed to indicate that the quantity of individuals he’d likely face would not be optimal. Subconsciously he had initiated his battle protocols, though they had not fully come online. Analyzing the possible fight that faced him, he had decided it best to withdraw until a more optimal solution presented itself. If it were possible, he sensed there were far more powerful weapons at his finger tips than the one attached to his arm. Would that he’d had time to practice them prior to being so unceremoniously proclaimed ‘D-16’, but he was not yet prepared to use the words he’d wanted to present to Steamspur. Nor, did he sense, that Steamspur would have listened to him.

              One had to be receptive to the words, he felt, though he was uncertain of where such conviction came from.

              Following after Roughshod, D-16 looked at the group of mechs he was being headed towards. Each one bore a similar frame to his own, though none were quite so tall. Thick armored, heavy frames, each one powerful and capable of a great deal. Like with the group he had previously stood with there were variations to their gazes. Some watched him with clear interest, others held fear in whatever it was he may have done. There were others, still, who seemed not to care and continued to stare at the Well and in some of those he saw a longing as though wishing to return to the light.

              Roughshod handed him several items, and then with quick efficient motions, applied some kind of adhesive tape to his chest, shoulders, and back, then gave him several more strips indicating they were to go on his helm. These strips garishly reflected the light from the Well, almost too bright, but if the definition of ‘miner’ was to be believed D-16 understood these reflective strips were most valuable beneath the planet’s surface.

              “There,” Roughshod vented, placing his hands on his hips and looking up at his handy work, “aye you’re a tall one. Prob’ly get assigned to one of the bigger mines. Can’t have ya smashin’ your head on the cavern ceiling in the smaller ones. Likely Steamspur’ll assign you t’my squad. He tends to think it’s best to keep all th’ troublemakers in one group where he can keep an eye on ‘em.”

              D-16 looked down at Roughshod and considered what he wished to say.

              “Why am I here?” He began, but realized the question was far too broad, too reaching. Why he was here, what he was meant to do, how he was created. There were far too many inclinations to such a vaguely worded question, so before Steamspur could answer D-16 clarified: “Why are we selected to stand in this group, to be miners? I do not believe this is the life many of us would choose. That we may come to desire.”

              Roughshod’s optics dimmed and he sighed, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck and then dragged his hand over his helm to rub at his face.

              “You’re gonna be a troublesome one,” he said, “I can already tell. You’re bright, and you’re observant. Independent. Not the best of traits t’have when workin’ in a mine I’ll admit.” Roughshod looked up at him before glancing in Steamspur’s direction. D-16 looked as well and the withering glare that Steamspur had been boring at Roughshod with momentarily changed so that it was leveled against D-16.

              D-16 gazed back. His own stare unwavering and, within only a few moments Steamspur was forced to look away.

              Roughshod chuckled faintly and shook his head.

              “Really shouldn’t be laughin’, but I got the sense you’re going t’be interestin’ to work with,” he sighed again, and reached out a hand towards D-16 as though to lead him further away. D-16 did not allow for the mech to touch him again, there was something about the contact that left him… uncertain. He did not believe he liked the touch of another on his frame. Perhaps some irrational fear that whatever had crushed the potential from Steamspur and the others was contagious, though believing such a thing was beyond rational levels of credulity.

              Still, he followed after Roughshod to the far end of the group where the pair could stand alone for a moment. It was clear that Steamspur did not like this. He shot several more glares towards them which were deflected and, ultimately, overpowered by D-16’s own gaze.

              Once they were, to some degree, on their own; though there were still several guards close at hand, Roughshod spoke quietly to him. His voice was hushed, but still loud enough to be heard by D-16 over the myriad of other conversations at hand.

              “That’s how this works,” he started off in a blunt manner. “They pick you out of the crowd, prob’ly due to your thick armor and heavy frame, then they do a quick scan and upload some updates to your system. Once they confirm your frame type, you get assigned your role. Your Caste. From there that’s where you belong, regardless of where ya think you should be.”

              “Others decide this for us because of the body we ascend with?” It was a rhetorical question as Roughshod had already given him the answer. An inflective question. His mind feeling out and coming to a simple conclusion: it was unfair.

              A childish thought, perhaps, and he recognized it as such, but for many reasons did he believe it to be unfair. Though immature in structure, the reality of the situation could no better be summed up by a more sophisticated definition or word. Unjust, perhaps. Wrong, certainly, but as with ‘unfair’ the word did not seem to quite encompass the complicated sensation he derived from his considerations.

              “They use a sequence of letters and numbers to assign us,” D-16 continued, “and yet I have little doubt there are more than my number present within the mines.” He was questioning, of course, how he could be ‘D-16’ if there were any number of individuals already working. Surely they would have been forced to move into double, and triple letter-and-number combinations.

              “Ah, that,” Roughshod huffed, his systems rumbling just a little, “well, truth be told there ain’t no use in going to triple, and even quadruple digits t’keep track of us. So rather than come up w’somethin’ new each time, they keep track o’th’ ones who don’t make it in the mine an’ when that number comes up free, it’s assigned to new mech.”

              “’…ones who don’t make it in the mine’?” D-16 asked, but in retrospect of what Roughshod said, he did not require clarification. The mech whom had bore his letter-and-number assignment before him had deactivated.

              “S’a rough life, minin’,” Roughshod said, and he did not appear particularly happy with it. “Down there, under th’metal and crust of the planet, there’re plenty of dangers. Cave-ins, mis-fired explosions…” he stopped himself as Steamspur shot him another look. Though he was being quiet, clearly, he was not speaking quietly enough.

              “Look,” Roughshod said, leaning in closer to D-16, “up here, under the optics o’the head foreman, it’s not the best place for questions. Unlessin’ you’re a member of the High Caste. Them, they encourage questions from s’long as they’re the right ones. From the likes of us, though?” He shook his helm from side to side, a dismissive gesture that was not wholly effective. “If ya got questions, best t’wait until we’re down in the mines. Like I said. I got a feelin’ you’re gonna get assigned to my group. We tend t’be the first ones into a new location on accountin’ of mechs like you seein’ as you’re prob’ly a tank-bot. Makes for dangerous work, but least we keep th’others a bit safe yeah? We’ll get ya situated with the rest of the group and then we can talk as we work.”

              D-16 was not pleased, but he conceded the point to Roughshod who was his elder and more knowledgeable in this area – or at least more experienced – and turned his optics again to those who had yet to be ‘sorted’.

              The contrast was so great. The new, shiny metal, of the freshly sparked as they waited in a mass. Mingling among themselves without thought or consideration for the invisible boundaries that were to be foisted upon them. He was still struck with his first impression of them and of the well. Fierce. Powerful. Uncontainable. Life was not a structured thing that could be compartmentalized into a fitting role. It was vibrant, it was malleable, changeable. These individuals were filled with unlimited potential. The sheer possibility promised by those querying optics. It was rich and heady, almost intoxicating to consider the potential future that was awaiting them outside of such a rigid structure.

              All of it sacrificed for the sake of efficiency and control.

              He could not help but to feel it was a waste. All this potential, all the latent talent that slept just below the surface. If only it could be freely shaped…

              D-16’s realization of the potential of Cybertron’s future would have to settle in his freshly forged processor for a time. He felt as though he saw something, something that spoke so loudly he could not turn a deaf audio receptor to it, but he could not yet fathom its depth. He could not probe for the right questions to ask, or seek the answers his spark so deeply desired.

              He would wait, for now. He could be patient. Some way, by some means, he would educate himself and he would better learn this convoluted thought process he had stumbled upon.

              No weight, nor cavernous depths, would crush him as they had crushed Steamspur and the guards. He would work within the system, for now, and seek his answers as the knowledge to ask the necessary questions came to him.

#Megatron Drabbles #Megatron Headcanon #Ask Memes

[doctorsilverhead]

Midnight Calls (Bayverse Optimus X Human Reader) Headcanons!

Before leaving Earth, Optimus made a communication array for you so that you can contact him from earth whenever you want. Every midnight, it beeps signalling that Optimus is calling you.

The conversation would always start with him asking, "How was your day?" And you saying, Thank God! You're still alive!"

It would almost be funny and adorable for Optimus when you worry too much for him and scold him like a mother.

Optimus messes up when it comes to lying. He would tell falsehoods about being perfectly well, but you could tell that he was lying because he would be so hurt from his injuries.

"Did anybody bother you, today? Honey? You know that I will slay anyone with my sword that will come between us." Just Optimus's words of affection towards Y/N. :)

Optimus is really skilled at being possessive. Every day he will remind you that you are solely his and what he will do to you or the consequences if you ever break up with him. He promises that his love for you will never fade.

You know how to make Optimus jealous, how to make him want you even more, how to torture him till he is on his knees for you. So you would just tease him to make him jealous. You would compliment how Drift is good looking or Ratchet. You just love when he is jealous, his possessive words, growls and grunts.

You both would talk all night, it was just like it was never enough. You both would listen to your favourite music number that you will play on your radio and pamper each other.

But as all good things come to an end, you both would finally say goodbye. It would be full of dread and sadness but Optimus knows as long as both of your love is still alive no force can destroy him. 

#autobots #bumblebee #dark deception #decepticons #megatron #optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfp #transformers au #transformers bayverse #Drift #transformers drift #transformers g1 #transformers #transformers headcanons #transformers prime #transformers x reader #humanformers #maccadams #optimus x megatron #optimus #maccadam

[medicon]

Retirement Home AU<3

Autobots

Optimus

that one grandpa who has a concerning amount of grandchildren visiting him

wakes up randomly during the night to tell staff members about his 27947293th battle with megatron

tries to keep the peace (and never succeeds), lectures all the other patients when they fight

*stares off into space* i have a vision..

Ratchet

either a random guy, or the head of staff

everything is perfectly organized in his room, if anyone moves his stuff he throws his cane at them

always complaining about his sore joints, has full conversations with himself on the daily

will throw a fit if someone else reads the newspaper before he does

Bumblebee

the grandson that visits every week

befriended some of the other patients, has to suffer through hours of "back when I was your age..."

seems like the sweetest angel, but actually helps smuggle prohibited things into the home

the flamethrower wasn't his idea

Arcee

that one great aunt your parents told you not to talk to

has poisoned megatron's food on several occasions, doesn't plan on stopping either

probably that one patient who talks in a foreign language but refuses to translate it for anyone else

knows how to make anything in the retirement home into a weapon

Smokescreen

the staff member that is way too cheery

probably ends up causing serious injury to a patient by accident

tries to make sure everyone has their medicine and is getting along, but ends up causing chaos instead

^_^ everyone please stop fighting!! *stands perfectly still in the midst of everyone throwing objects at each other*

Decepticons

Megatron

pissy old grandpa (what did you expect?)

*aggressively plays chess against his arch nemesis* *throws the board when he loses*

constantly mumbles about how he had more respect back in the old days, and how he would blast everyone to bits if he could

prune juice and nap time guy™️

Starscream

supreme ruler of the retirement home (self diagnosed)

falls down the stairs at least once a week after he tries to run away from the staff <- has committed felonies

sells his meds to the other patients, not sure how he hasn't been found out yet

tries to be cool and fails

Soundwave

he exists. that's basically it

unnerving patient who will follow you around without saying anything and simply stares at any visitors

has escaped the retirement home at least twice, has a horde of items he stole from other patients under his bed

gossips with his roommate (megatron)

Knockout

old person who is far too confident and charming for his age

*tries to be smooth and flirty but ends up falling and needs 3 nurses to help him up*

routinely smuggles alcohol into the building, no one knows where he gets it from

tried to bribe the staff to give him extra pillows

btw i am taking requests for anything in this au ♡

#🎞 。。。poptart's posts #tfp headcanons #tfp x reader #transformers #transformers hc #transformers headcanons #transformers x reader #decepticons headcanons #tfp megatron x reader #tfp soundwave #tfp megatron #tfp optimus x reader #tfp optimus #bumblebee x reader #ratchet transformers #ratchet #tfp ratchet x reader #megatron headcanons #tfp knockout x reader #tfp knockout #knockout x reader #arcee transformers #arcee tfp #arcee x reader #starscream x reader #tfp starscream #macadam #maccadam #autobots x reader #decepticons

[bots-and-cons]

Well hi What if the human reader gets really excited about a certain thing like they rescued her cat from a fall and he kisses their cheek and there are several red lipstick marks on their cheek. With Optimus, Soundwave, Megatron❤️🫶🏻

I mostly just focused on the whole lipstick mark thing rather than why the reader is kissing them. Also Idk what this is, I just wrote something that came to mind. The Soundwave one is super short though

~Megatron~

•Yesss, you should be worshiping him for helping you

•Some kisses will do though

•Afterwards he notices you looking at him kind of weirdly

•He asks why you're looking at him like that and you just smile and tell him that he’s got some lipstick marks on his face

•He of course doesn’t really know what lipstick is, but you’ll explain it to him

•You just show him on your phone’s front camera that he’s got some red marks on his face

•You’re snickering the whole time, because he has a very confused expression on his face and you found it funny

•Megatron doesn’t really care about having the lipstick marks to be honest, because they don’t really mean anything to him like they might to a human

•So until you want to get the marks off him, he’s just gonna be walking around with them

•You think it’s kind of cute, but also a little bit embarrassing, since Knockout connects the dots right away

•Knockout of course wouldn’t say anything to Megatron, because he values his life, but you and Knockout share a bit of a look

~Optimus Prime~

•You kiss him as a thank you for saving you from a fall and he’s also very thankful for the affection

•You didn’t really pay attention when he let you down from his shoulder, but a few hours later you notice you’d left some lipstick marks on Optimus’ cheek

•You get his attention and tell him what you noticed, and he lifts you to his shoulder and you start wiping off the lipstick marks with a tissue

•You’re blushing and muttering to yourself, hoping no one else noticed

•No one did, but you’re just convinced they just didn’t say anything out of courtesy

•You get the marks off and Optimus asks why you’re so flustered

•You just tell him you didn’t mean to leave marks on him or anything, and you just feel like it’s a bit embarrassing

•Optimus doesn’t really understand why you’d consider it embarrassing, the other bots know the two of you kiss so what’s the big deal

•Also something about him never being ashamed of something that shows you love him

~Soundwave~

•Soundwave doesn’t mind the marks, and his visor hides them anyway, so you don’t notice them until you go to kiss him again

•You ask him if he noticed it and he just nods and tells you he doesn’t mind them

•You do clean them off, but since he seemed to like them, you occasionally give him new ones

•Soundwave just treats them as marks of your affection and he’s kind of happy no one else sees them, so it’s a secret between just the two of you

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #decepticons #megatron #soundwave #autobots #optimus prime #tfp headcanons #reader insert #tfp x reader #transformers x reader

[fallenneziah]

Dating the Transformers Decepticon Boys.

Some little headcanons for some of the boys.

Shockwave:

Small hand in big hand, small hand in big hand!

Shockwave is reserved. Once in a relationship with you he has to come to terms with the emotions he thought he would never feel again. So he takes his time in coming to know both you and these new ideas and feelings that are surrounding him.

He's horny.

Despite being alone most of the time and focusing on his sciences, Shockwave will not pass up a single opportunity to get down in the berth. At first he would not interface at all, but now he likes to get in time at least once every couple of days, a week at most.

He's jealous. Easily too.

Another emotion he isn't used to it jealously, so when someone does something to turn that switch, whether it be talking, staring, or touching, he will lose it.

Everyone is already pretty scared of him, like Soundwave, he doesn't need to say or do much to make a point. But he will strain his stance above yours and shadow you with his structure. He'll burn his look into their soul until they get the hint and scurry.

His love language is gifts. He loves to present you with his projects and make different things for you. And he won't say it, but he will cherish every little trinket you bring him in return.

Behind closed doors when his work is put out of the way he is very affectionate. He wouldn't say it but he never thought you'd want him in a berth because of his lack of s left arm. But you two got around it and you make sure to nestle little compliments into your conversations.

Knockout:

One hundred percent the guy who will come around behind you as you use his tools and guide your hands while whispering the instructions in your ear.

A tease.

He loves to drop subtle hints around the Nemesis and will kiss you around the hallways.

Everytime you come back from a mission he urges you to the medbay and will look all over you for scratches or dents. Same before you leave, he wants to make sure those puny Autobots see his sparkmate at their best.

He is a tease, but he doesn't have as high a sex drive as someone like Predaking or Makeshift for example. He enjoys a good frag, but blow jobs under the operating table are his favorite kind of intimacy.

He is very jealous. Not in an insecure way, he is very sure in his image. However, he doesn't like when others make sly compliments about your frame. Sure, they can tell you how amazing your paint is or the curve of your hips, but if it's anything explicit he will be very upset. He'll threaten them with his blades, "If you want one so bad, why don't I give you a new look!" Or something along those lines.

If he's feeling more chill and sly, he'll walk over during the conversation and slip his servo against your hip plating. He'll caress your waist and watch with the smirk of the devil as the mech or femme slowly comes to realization.

He loves when you compliment him. His love language is words of affirmation and gifts, so you'll find a miniature version of his vehicle mode next to your bed or some other kind of trinket.

Predaking:

Very, very, very protective.

He makes sure to put any unworthy mech or femme in their place. The second anyone - even Megatron looks at you funny it is on.

He has a very high sex drive and will often leave you locked in your berth for hours just so he can love on you. He's mindful of your body however. He'll make sure to mark you his up and down your frame from your neck cables to your ankles.

He was eager to learn about you when he met you. He found an instant attraction and his long dormant mating protocols would roar to life every time you looked his way.

He will court you with shiny objects he finds. Often bringing back sharp scrap metal or rocks. He adores giving you gifts, but touch is his love language.

He could sit in his bed and hold you close until the world exploded. As long as you are with him he feels at peace and confident.

He was very shy around you at first. He wasn't a clumsy doufas, but he would show off his strength by straightening his stance and glaring down other mechs. He enjoyed showing off his beast form in front of you and would act so confident and put together. The second you opened a conversation with him. The poor boy couldn't put a sentance together he was so embarrassed and nervous.

Predaking is un-fucking-touchable. When the Vehicons or the commanders see the markings along your frame they steer clear. If any unlucky 'con is so dumb enough to get on Predaking's turf and even attempt to court his mate it's over. There is no point in running. Death in inevitable.

Either that or he will beat them to near death.

Once your back in his arms he'll hold you close the rest of the day and growl lowly at anyone who comes near.

The only person he trusts to be around you is Shockwave. As a predacon he is constantly in protect mode and anything that is his will be protected until he dies.

Megatron:

Megatron took a liking to you quickly. You caught his eye with how fluent you were with your tasks and how reputable you were on the battlefield.

Only the most powerful and fit can be his mate, and he thought you were perfect. So, he decided you were his. He wasn't exactly sure how to get your attention or how to work a relationship all that well. So he just started telling the vehicons you were his until you found out. When confronted with the facts he seemed only slightly embarrassed and more confused. "Yes..?"

You told him you'd think about it so Megatron let it be. Manz is impatient as fuck. He was so head over heels for you that if you couldn't make your mind then he would court you.

Poems. Poems. Poems. EVERYWHERE.

He would leave them on your desk, in your room, anywhere he knew you would see it. With respect of the vehicons because if they caught him being such a simp it would end his career.

He doesn't have the highest sex drive, but he enjoys fragging as much as the next 'con. Once he gets you in his room he will keep you there until he sees fit for you to leave. And whatever happens in that time happens.

He's also less of a jealous person and more protective. If someone makes s suggestive move or talks to you in a certain way he will act. Commanding and assured he will back them off and get you in his arms to protect you.

His love language is words of affirmation. He will praise you when you have done something good and you do so in return. He definitely enjoys it.

Starscream:

I can't decide between these two so I will leave them here... He is either super horny all the time, or, like Megatron he has a lower sex drive but once in the berthroom it can last quite a while. Round after round.

He gets flustered around you easily. He'll stammer and try to appear smaller and more innocent like he does when he is in trouble with Megatron.

Once he gets his hands on you however he is a tease to Cybertron and back. He will whisper words in your ears while you work or give your aft a pinch as you're walking by.

He doesn't hide your relationship either. Every seeker that exists knows of you two. He's not afraid to be open and deliberate about how you two are.

Therefore, most on the Nemesis are aware you are taken and busy themselves elsewhere. Those few who do might just get away with it.

Starscream is the most jealous out of everyone on the Nemesis. He is very insecure about himself and everything in general. All he is confident in are his dumb plans and his backstabbing ways.

Of a much larger mech attempted to court you he might just leave you to handle it. You're capable of saying no right? And if you don't then he'll be spark broken.

If it's a Vehicon or a seeker he will feel much more confident in himself. Often times using his rank to boss people away from you and back to work. But when he can't hide behind his rank he gets much more nervous. Overall, you're kind of on your own if things get physical.

"You scratch my back, I scratch yours," His love language is definitely acts of service/favors, and words of affirmation. He loathes getting praises and is a sucker for the treatment. But he also enjoys doing favors for something in return, and vice versa.

Soundwave:

An absolute cuddle bug in bed. When no one is looking he'll scoop you up in his large arms and hug you against his chest.

He never confessed his attraction, you came to him. He refused to confess, but he would leave you sweet notes and quotes from popular poems whenever he could.

He acts cold and distant but you know better. Soundwave isn't a mech who is known for his emotions. He does not speak and you are not an exception. The relationship can often feel one-sided and conversation is limited, but you find peace in it.

Your relationship is way underground and no one even suspects that the two of you are into each other. So when someone asks you out nervously on a date, you couldn't blame the guy.

Soundwave isn't jealous. He has learned to work around his emotions and has very good control over his outbursts. So before you respond he'll reply, "Negative." In a deep, almost threatening voice. Usually followed by you apologizing and explaining you are already taken and going about your business.

It's simple.

But if you are defied and they continue to push, he'll simply get Laserbeak to chase him away for a while.

You are very appreciative of Soundwave and all that he does for you. He love to kiss his faceplate and around his collar fins. And he enjoys it. He'll lean info you and purr happily as you kiss along his jaw.

Soundwave's love language can differ from time to time, but he most enjoys quality time with you. Even if he's working and drowned out in tasks he enjoys the presence you bring to the cold room. If your rambling on he'll do his best to listen.

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Apologies for any spelling mistakes :/

#starscream #megatron #soundwave #shockwave #headcanon #headcanons #knockout #transformers #writing #x reader #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #shockwave x reader #starscream x reader #knockout x reader #predaking #predaking x reader