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faithyart · 15 days ago

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✧˖° 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 [𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

takes place immediately after the events of this very first obsessed!optimus drabble

cw: angst, hardcore pinning, obsessive thoughts, unrequired love

word count: 1200

"Thanks again for the ride" you say, a small grateful smile gracing your lips.

"The pleasure is all mine" Optimus replies.

The slow rhythm of the wheels rolling over the dusty road is soothing, and the seatbelt wrapped around you provides a unique sense of security that only Optimus could offer. Instinctively, out of a deeply human habit of relaxing around those you trust, you lean your back more comfortably against the seat.

Optimus hopes that the louder purr of his engine did not reach your ears, and that the descending needle on the speedometer escaped the notice of your eyes, currently fixed on the shifting scenery beyond the window. You do not need to know of his sins.

To you, this is supposed to be just a ride home with a friend. And though confining himself to the role of just a friend tore at his spark, you did not need to think otherwise.

No matter how much he longed, oh, how much he longed and suffered and burned for you to see him as something more, he knew all too well that he could not afford such a luxury.

Unworthy. Disgusting.

You will end up hurting them, Prime.

"As soon as I charge the battery in my car, I’ll stop using you guys for rides, I promise."

Your voice pulls him away from his own self-inflicted torment, granting him a fleeting reprieve, as he can now redirect his hatred towards something else.

He almost begins to hope that your battery will stay dead forever, just so you can use him more often, but he catches himself in time, realizing he is once again close to crossing an unthinkable boundary.

Life has already been unfair enough to you when it entangled you in a relationship with him.

"I assure you, you are not using anyone," because for you, he would do absolutely anything. "I did not agree to your request out of obligation. I wished to bring you home safely."

"Oh… thank you. That’s really kind of you."

A brief moment of surprise, dissipating into the subtle pink on your cheeks, the slightly accelerated rhythm of your heartbeat, and a smile he will see even after closing his optics for the rest of his life. He knows you like it when he opens up to you, admitting to the emotions he is not allowed to express under any other circumstances.

That is why the knowledge that he cannot tear out his spark and lay it bare before you, showing you absolutely everything, hurts more than any wound or insult ever could.

"So… how was your day? We haven’t had many chances to talk."

The first time you asked him that question a few months ago, Optimus had no idea what to say, utterly paralyzed by disbelief.

How was your day.

Such a simple, ordinary, even mundane question — one whose pleasure had been stolen from him by Optimus Prime. Few ever felt comfortable enough to ask him that. Most could not bypass the intimidation of his presence enough to manage anything other than stiff conversations about his greatness or war.

And yet, you had done it in such a short time. You saw him as a bot, not just a title or a leader, and one day, you had simply asked, "How was your day?"

If he had to pinpoint the exact moment when you unknowingly sealed your fate, when you drew out this wretched obsession he had for you, he would name that one.

You were not unique in that regard. The children had also quickly realized that there was no need to bow or cower before the leader of the Autobots. But you had been the first.

He wonders if, had you known the truth about his feelings, you would have done anything in your power to turn back time to that moment. Would you still have gifted him that simple "How was your day"? Would you still have asked him to take you home?

He knows the questions are rhetorical. If you knew the truth, you would never again grace him with a single glance, not even one filled with fury and contempt.

So he tells you everything that happened today, talking until he is suddenly forced to break off his monologue.

"There is a police patrol stationed seven hundred meters ahead. I suggest giving the impression that you are driving."

You grab the steering wheel, straighten up in the seat, and, though you do not have to, reach your legs towards the pedals. Only then do you strain your eyes, trying to spot the patrol he mentioned.

You trust him, he realizes bitterly. You trust a liar and a deviant, who cannot help but revel in the softness of your hands wrapped around his steering wheel. And he hates himself the most for trapping you in his web, for not freeing you from it when he still had the chance; when he first noticed the symptoms of this disease now consuming his body and, after death, his very soul.

When the danger passes, you pull your hands away, and Optimus yowls at you in silence not to. You could pretend the whole ride, consume him with the fire of the unique sensation of your touch until your gentleness consumes him and finally silences the wailing of his spark for you.

No other passenger in his alt mode had ever turned him into such a desperate creature. Fowler was aggressive and indifferent, and his touch felt entirely different from yours.

Fowler’s touch did not burn.

Fowler’s touch did not linger in his mind for weeks.

He could go his whole life without giving the agent another ride, but without yours, he would quickly descend into even deeper madness.

Primus, he really was a lost cause. No heroic or altruistic act could absolve him anymore.

Unfortunately, you finally reach your home. Swallowing nonexistent tears, Optimus releases your seatbelt and opens the door. At the same time, his holoform materializes in the passenger seat, flickering a few times before stabilizing; a man in his forties with a few days’ worth of stubble and ice-blue eyes, eerily resembling a real human steps out of his alt mode at the same time as you.

Optimus joins you, walking you to your door, never once breaking his gaze from you — not even for a nanoklik — savoring these last precious moments before the agonizingly long separation ahead.

"Thanks again," you say. "I hope we see each other again soon."

"As do I."

Orion Pax’s naïve hope lingers that you will invite him inside, but you do not grant him that honor.

"Goodnight, Optimus. Try to get some rest, okay?"

"I shall do my best. Goodnight, [Name]."

One last smile, and then you vanish into the depths of your home, bringing your wonderful time together to an end.

As he returns to his alt mode and deactivates the holoform, an uncomfortable emptiness washes over him, unnatural silence echoing in audials.

He sets his course back to the base.

Not even a nanoklik passes, and his spark is already howling for you once more.

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faithyart · 17 days ago

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A temporary consolation.

Skybound Optimus Prime x Reader Content: anguish, consolation, first kiss.

It seems that no matter how hard he tries, he’s destined to fail. No matter how hard he tries to do good and help others, it all ends in disaster. Primus, he’s trying, he swears on the Allspark that he’s trying. But he can’t give any more.

He’s too tired.

Isolated in nature, he tries to calm down. The beauty of this world is a small consolation on this chaotic path he’s taking. The birdsong, the flowers, the landscapes that seem almost unreal... There are so many things he’d like to take the time to admire. If only things were different.

His servos tremble, and he lowers his gaze, lost in them. Feeling revulsion and dread at the sight of his right arm, Megatron’s arm. Deep down, he wants to tear off that part that doesn’t belong to him. That parasite. Because somehow his mind becomes corrupted, and he gives in to the anger that pierces him like an arrow. Hating himself when calm invades him, because he’s not like that anymore. He doesn’t want to be like that anymore.

He hides his face with his servo, closing his optics. Darkness envelops him, wishing absolute nothingness would swallow him up and let him rest. Anxiety prevents him from doing so. The thought that the worst could be happening out there while he's away. His companions. No. His family could be in danger, and he’s here doing nothing.

Primus please give him some peace.

Moving forward cautiously, you follow the trail of the enormous footprints on the path. A clue to where he might be, hoping to find him soon.

Watching him walk silently away from everyone, you could sense there was something about him, or at least you thought so. Something in his posture and expression told you something. An eternal storm of pain suffocating his entire being. You feel it, you worry because you understand that feeling all too well. Even if you can’t save him from the storm, you want to be with him on the journey. To let him know that he doesn't have to suffer alone and in silence.

A little emotion courses through you as you recognize the small red shape hidden among the trees and rocks in the distance. You move forward more quickly, his shape getting large and large the closer you get. Noticing his trembling body, a servo covering his face. Startling you when he abruptly turns his head toward you with a horrified and scared expression. Making you wonder if he always gets like this when someone gets close to him when he’s distracted. As if he always expects the worst.

Relieved to find you and not some Decepticon, he tries to compose himself and stay calm. But his servos are still trembling slightly. “What brings you here, little one?” he asks softly. Watching you move closer to him with a calmer expression, looking up at him with those little eyes of yours. Feeling a small sense of tenderness as he watches you try to climb the rocks, leaning down and extending a servo to help you up. Watching you cling to him with those soft little hands of yours.

You don’t respond immediately, you cling fearfully to him even though you know he won’t let you fall. You sit with your back to him on one of the rocks when he carefully releases you. “It never hurts to have some company, don’t you think?” you look at the small cluster of flowers on the ground, noticing a red bloom that stands out among the others. Organizing your words, you continue. “Sometimes it's good to have company during difficult times. To feel heard.” you say subtly, feeling a slight pressure in your chest from your nerves.

Do you care about him? “That’s very kind of you, little one.” his spark vibrates slightly as a feeling of warmth gently caresses him.

He looks at you, at your almost cybertronian figure and face. It unsettles him in some way he doesn’t understand, but he dispels it with the charming little things that make you unique and different from him.

Pretty, one might dare to say. The mere thought of it feels almost taboo.

Such a small and fragile being, filled with a kindness he's rarely seen in recent times. You’re young, with a whole life ahead of you.

His processor fills him with guilt, sinking that pleasant, warm feeling so deep into his core, it feels as if it had never existed. Because somehow he feels like he doesn’t deserve your pity, with everything his people is doing to your planet, to your people. What they did to you.

You feel him tremble, the rocks vibrating slightly, the tiny stones sliding until they reach the flowers and the grass. You turn to find that sad expression of his that he only reflects lately. You stand up carefully, approaching him somewhat awkwardly. “I know there are many things tormenting you,” you touch his servo resting on his thigh, wanting to get his attention. “I don’t even know if I can help you, as much as I would like to,” he extends his servo; there’s an insecurity there in the way he extended it out, but you climb onto it. Trusting him. Meeting those bright blue optics as he lifts you up. “But you shouldn’t face everything alone. In difficult times, it’s better to have someone accompany you along the way, and I want to accompany you, Optimus.”

“But, why?” he asks, his voice breaking. Confused, perhaps shocked. “My people has brought nothing but destruction and chaos to your world, including me. Why do you pity me so much?” His processor and spark are a cluster of emotions that suffocate him. Believing he deserves nothing when a part of him so desires it.

“Because I think you’re good, and you don’t deserve to feel all the negativity that’s suffocating you,” you reach out your small hands; he pulls you closer, feeling weak for needing your touch. “You’re not a monster. I know you’re doing what you can to bring peace; we all know you’re trying.” you finish, hugging his battle mask.

Feeling like you’re falling, you scream in shock. Nausea intensifies until you can almost feel that familiar sour taste rising in your throat. Dizzy, you feel large arms holding you. They embrace you gently. You realize that he has somehow shrunk, and is now closer to your size. You notice how he’s almost on his knees due to his shaky, wobbly posture. You hear murmurs you can’t understand. He’s hiding between your neck and shoulder. You hear sounds you recognize almost instantly.

Sobs.

Completely shaken, he clings to you like a lifeline. Your words break through his walls until they crumble; revealing that most emotional and fragile part of him he hadn't shown to anyone in a long time. “Thank you... Thank you, really.” His voice finally breaks, unable to think clearly about what he’s saying. Tears fall and soak your coat. Not remembering when was the last time he allowed himself to feel like this.

Unable to bear his weight any longer, you collapse to your knees with him. He attracted you more to himself. Him soaking you with the warmth of his frame. You reach out to hold him better, gently stroking his helmet. Whispering words you think might make him feel better, telling him to let it all out. That it’s okay to express what he feels and what he needs.

He feels almost incredulous that you’d accept this most sensitive and fragile part of him. Because during the war, he couldn’t even think of it. Showing it is a sign of weakness, an easy target. But you, instead, ask him to do it, to express how he feels. “Stay with me, hold me tight, please.” he pleads. Because if you allow him to be fragile and ask for what he needs, he won’t waste it.

You pull away slightly. He’s a little reluctant to do so, but he lets go, his grip on your arms still firmly in place. Your hands reach for his battle mask, caressing it, brushing away the tears that are trickling down his optics. Without really thinking, he retracts his battle mask, revealing his entire face. He sees your expression, briefly surprised, but then softens immediately. He feels your tiny fingers run over his face, caressing every scar there. Not showing any expression of disgust at them.

“Are you feeling a little calmer now?” you ask, taking in his face in its entirety, strangely human yet somehow charming. You see him nod briefly, and you lean a little closer to his face, just a little. You notice him do the same, he pulls you closer again, his servo reaching your cheek, caressing it gently; sliding down to reach your lips, moving down to your bottom lip. Unconsciously, you kiss his thumb, hearing his small gasp of surprise.

That kiss on his thumb felt so intimate, feeling his spark vibrate anxiously behind his chassis. Thinking about wanting more of that closeness, wanting you to kiss his lips instead of his thumb.

Thinking about how taboo it is to desire someone so different so much

Although that doesn’t matter to him now.

Even if he doesn’t understand what you make him feel, he wants you. He wants you to hug him more, to keep encouraging him to keep going. Even though he doesn’t know if what you’re making him feel is love, what you’re making him feel is almost comparable.

Because the intense desire to have you in his life forever, to have you just for him, must mean something more than friendship.

You notice his gaze fixed on your lips, feeling butterflies flutter anxiously in your stomach. You look at his lips and then at his optics, losing yourself in his blue light. Wanting to drown that need for more closeness, but your body and your heart need more. Slowly moving closer to him, he mimicking your action. You’re so close to his lips that you nervously lower your head slightly, avoiding touching them at the last moment. His servo moves down to your chin and raises it to its original position. Closing your eyes just as his lips are about to touch yours.

He tastes you, and it’s softer and more pleasant than I could have imagined. His glossa enters your lips, and you give him permission to explore, opening your mouth slightly wider. His servo moves to cradle the back of your head, with the parasite servo reaching the lower part of your back to pull you closer to him. Needing to feel you against his frame.

He pulls away momentarily to see your reaction, noticing your cheeks tinged with a tender shade of pink.

“Can we do it again?”

He laughs softly at your question, bringing his lips closer to yours. A ray of light emerging from the clouds, pointing to a new path to follow, leaving everything behind to contemplate an open and beautiful sky. Realizing that you were that hopeful ray of light he was searching for, a source of tranquility and peace. Feeling his spark singing happily, eager for more of your touch.

Enjoying moving forward on this new path in which he is accompanied.

A/N: I would love to be able to hug this Optimus and tell him that everything will be okay, he is suffering a lot.

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