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writeyouin · 4 years

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Swerve X Reader – Changes - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – The Arena

A/N – I finally came back to this, my poor abandoned baby. As usual, a special thanks to @rocksinmuffin without whom, this story wouldn’t exist.

Warnings – Minor suicide mention.

Rating – T

“That is the cruellest thing I have ever seen you do,” Swerve glowered at you.

“It had to be done. There was nothing else for it,” You replied nonchalantly.

“RODNEY DID NOTHING WRONG.”

“He existed.”

“SO YOU JUST KICKED HIM OUT FOR EXISTING?”

“Look, you get to choose your Animal Crossing villagers, and I get to choose mine.”

“Abuse them, more like,” Swerve pouted.

“Fine, do you want to play on the switch and adopt an ugly-ass hamster who does nothing but bitch all day?” You asked, holding the console out to Swerve.

He took it from you, placing it on the tallest shelf in the hab-suite, “You can have this back when you learn kindness, you monster.”

“… That’s just mean,” You said, looking despondently at the shelf which was labelled No Man’s land. Beside the switch was a copy of Harry Potter which had been removed from you until you could read it without yelling at Snape every time you saw his name, and several pictures of Getaway which you had scrawled insults on; Swerve wasn’t punishing you for those, he just liked admiring them every now and then while you worked on new insults to scribble.

“Okay, fine, you can have it back right now, if you say that hamsters are cute,” Swerve grinned.

“Clearly, you’ve never seen one in real life. They work for the devil and steal people’s souls. I’m ninety percent sure that they also have armies ready to-”

Pain wracked your body and you woke up screaming to find your captors prodding you with weapons akin to cattle prods but much larger and stronger. It was the same creatures that had captured you.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?” You yelled through the pain.

The humanoids didn’t reply, staying eerily silent; you wondered whether they were even capable of communication in a way that you might understand.

“All right, that’s enough… For now,” A human called, stepping forward, looking completely out of place among the others.

Your captors backed away, leaving you alone with the human on the opposite side of the cell. You glared at the woman, who couldn’t have been older than thirty. She wore acidic green armour that bore a symbol of a decapitated robotic head with wires and cables sticking out from the neck; the ensemble made you nervous.

“So… You’re our newest contestant. How dull,” She commented boredly, examining you.

“Contestant? What do you mean?” You asked fearfully.

Once again, you were left without a reply as the woman pulled out a dictation machine and began talking into it as if you weren’t there. “Subject is of questionable build. A Minibot. No definable insignia – probably a NAIL. Presumably no fighting skill of which to speak. No weapon attachments that can be seen. One noticeable draw to the crowds is that it’s a female – a rarity in itself.”

“Oh my God, are you- Fuck, are you putting me in the hunger games?” You demanded incredulously.

“The bot uses organic terms in communication. It’s possible that it has spent much of its time around organic communities rather than with its own kind.”

Although you knew you could argue that you weren’t originally a Cybertronian, you decided that it probably wouldn’t get you very far with your captor; she was clearly only interested in her job, whatever that was. You doubted that you would get anywhere talking to her.

“So that’s it? You’re going to put me into an arena to fight? Did I get it right? Hey! HEY, I’M TALKING TO YOU. YEAH, BITCH WITH THE BAD HAIR, YOU!”

The childish attempt at an insult earned you a bemused glance, and the woman paused the dictation machine.

“You ought to mind your manners, or you’ll be in a much worse condition before the fight, and that will only bore the spectators,” She warned you.

“I’ll behave, if you at least tell me your name. I’d like to know who I’m insulting.”

Your roguish attitude earned a sadistic smile; it wasn’t every-day that your captor met a Cybertronian with any spirit left, “Lady Ouida.”

“Stupid name,” You murmured, mostly to hide your fear. “So I’m right about this being a colosseum of sorts?”

“Yes. You are to fight in the arena.”

“And if I win, I go free?”

“No. If you win, we kill you anyway. The people are out for Cybertronian blood after all.”

“Wow… That’s so fucking stupid. Like for real, did you take this out of a book? It’s not very creative is it? How many movies have you seen where the hero is thrown into a death ring to battle? Plus, there’s not going to be much of a fight. I mean, look at me. My arms are all fucked up from your bodyguards, I’m clearly not a fighter, and I’m like only three feet taller than you. Factor in multiple opponents and you get a five-minute fight, tops which will mostly be me running for my life.”

“You don’t seem too concerned with your fate.”

“Bitch, I am terrified, but I’ve seen death and been dragged back from it. I have defined the meaning of an out of body experience. Right now, I am competing with forces that you cannot even imagine in a brain that was not meant for me. In other words, there is nothing you can do that is worse than what I’ve been dealing with for the last forty-eight hours so GET FUCKED.”

The words PERSONALITY MALFUNCTION appeared on your visor, and you knew they were true. In your human form, you tended to avoid confrontation where you could. However, faced with the prospect of unavoidable death, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. There were only two options left for you anyway. Die in an arena, or wait for the Lost Light to come to your rescue. As you stared into the grinning face of Lady Ouida who had developed a sudden interest in you, you hoped it was the latter.

Chromedome sat miserably in the brig, having been put there for attempting to forcibly alter Swerve’s memory banks with mnemosurgery. He had lost count of how many times he had been in that exact scenario, where mnemosurgery was the only way forward, but nobody else would see it that way. How many times had Rewind refused to talk to him because of it? How often had he been forced to alter Rewind’s memory afterwards so he wouldn’t leave him? Chromedome held his head in his servos, thinking of Rewind. He wouldn’t believe it if Chromedome said it was all for Swerve. So what if mnemosurgery felt good, as long as it helped people it wasn’t that bad. Sure there were risks, but there were risks to all sorts of things that people did anyway.

With nothing else to do but think of his failure, Chromedome waited despondently in his cell, with the faintest of hopes that Rewind might deign to visit him, even if it was just to yell.

Ultra Magnus watched the security footage stoically from the computer panel in his office. As well as Chromedome, he was also watching Swerve, who had been restrained for his own safety and was sobbing loudly, screaming your name, and Whirl who was in the med-bay, awaiting yet another energon transfusion. Of the three, Whirl worried Ultra Magnus the most; he was not taking well to Ratchet’s surgery. He had damaged one of his internal components beyond repair and it was now up to Perceptor to create a suitable replacement. The replacement would undoubtedly need constant maintenance for the rest of Whirl’s life if he survived, but it was the only way forward.

Ultra Magnus looked up as the door flew open, and Rodimus came barging in.

“THIS IS A DISASTER!” Rodimus roared.

For once, Ultra Magnus didn’t have the spark to placate Rodimus; he was right, everything was going disastrously.

“WHIRL IS DYING. CHROMEDOME IS ALL KINDS OF MESSED UP. REWIND BLAMES ME FOR WHATEVER REASON. SWERVE IS SUICIDAL AND (Y/N) IS MISSING. Please tell me you have something that might help fix this mess?”

“I do not,” Ultra Magnus replied quietly. He had never felt like such a failure. Under his watch, everything had gone wrong. The Magnus armour was getting heavier every day; he didn’t deserve to wear it.

“FRAG! WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO? SHE COULD BE IN DANGER. THE ROD POD’S TRACKING SYSTEM IS FRAGGED. THE CREW ARE FURIOUS. THEY HAVEN’T BEEN THIS MAD SINCE-”

“OUT OF THE WAY, COMING THROUGH,” Nightbeat’s voice called in the corridor as he weaved through the few bots out there and made his way into the office with Megatron close behind him.

“Rodimus. Ultra Magnus,” Megatron greeted professionally, before gesturing for Nightbeat to take over.

“I FOUND (Y/N),” Nightbeat began ecstatically, completely missing the sombre atmosphere.

“What? How?” Rodimus asked, dumbfounded.

“I watched the Rod-Pod’s ejection from the bay and followed it through the security cameras. After that, it was simply a matter of predicting several plausible trajectory’s considering that (Y/N) isn’t a pilot-”

Rodimus waved his arms, “Forget I asked. Just tell me where she is.”

Nightbeat ignored his disappointment that the big reveal had been ruined; it had taken a lot of work for him to covertly listen to all the radio stations where you might have landed and then locate you from that. “She’s on a privately owned planet called The Arena.”

“The… The Arena?”

Megatron nodded solemnly, “Yes. My research tells me that they capture stray Cybertronians and-”

“Don’t tell me. They put them in the arena ‘cos they think that’s creative… Primus, that’s annoying. All right, plan time. We change course, go to The Arena, break in, rescue (Y/N) and make everything go back to normal. Any questions?”

Megatron took a moment to consider the plan, “How-”

“No? Great. Then let’s go. We’ve got work to do.” Rodimus transformed and drove out of the office to head to Brainstorm’s lab. He had brushed it off with his usual casual demeanour but just like everyone else, he was furious that anyone would want to hurt you. If he was going to rescue you, he would need weapons; the morally-grey kind that Brainstorm made.

Swerve sniffled, feeling pathetic as coolant that he couldn’t wipe away under his constraints dripped down his front. Yet another failed suicide attempt to go on his record; he couldn’t even do that right. He remembered the last time he had done something so drastic, when you had come to save him from himself; you had probably only married him out of pity. Despite the depressing thought, Swerve found himself unable to believe it. You had married him because for some reason that he didn’t understand, you loved him. The two of you had spent one year married and it had been the best year of Swerve’s life. When you brought up the idea of sparklings on your anniversary, Swerve couldn’t believe that life could be any better, and now after all of that you were gone.

Although Swerve longed to wallow in self-pity, he couldn’t help thinking of Chromedome. It seemed that his last conversation was finally sinking into Swerve’s processor. What was it he had said exactly? Swerve vented air through his systems, calming himself so he could isolate the memory file.

“YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT (Y/N)!”

While it was true that Chromedome could have just said that to stop Swerve from ending his life, there was also a slim possibility that Chromedome really did have new information about you.

Swerve kept replaying the memory’s audio, listening for the truth. As a bartender, he liked to believe he was good at separating lies from the truth, but when the other bots were sober, he wasn’t very good at it.

“(Y/N)…” Swerve whispered your name, wondering what he might not know about you as of that moment.

What if you had come back and he was wallowing in his cell, too wrapped up in himself to know about it? It wasn’t possible. If you were back, it didn’t matter what state Swerve was in; he would have been taken to you. Unless…

Swerve struggled to sit up, his processor racing with endless possibilities pertaining to your fate. What if he hadn’t been taken to you because your new body was failing? What if you were dying and Swerve wasn’t there? What if he was the only one that could help you?

Unbalanced as he was, Swerve managed to stand up. He started kicking at the door, yelling as loud as he could.

“HEY! GET ME OUT OF HERE! TAKE ME TO MY WIFE! TELL ME WHERE (Y/N) IS!”

Swerve didn’t pay much heed to what he was saying. All he cared about was getting to you, no matter what it took.

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troutpopulation · 6 years

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On Borrowed Time - MTMTE Megatron x Reader

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Synopsis: With the verdict of the trial looming over head, and the fact that humans don't live that long, you decide there isn't any time to lose, and to make things official with Megatron while you still have the chance.

(contains original poetry written with love, and conjunx ritus! :^D )

Notes: kaixo i wanna marry Megatron and nothing will stop me. also if you didn't catch it the title is a play on political/philosophical treatises being often called "On ______".

While Megatron was at a meeting, you had hit the bar. It was one of your favorite spots on the ship, right next to windowsill down the hall. You sat atop the counter, listening to Rewind and Chromedome spin you a tale about Prowl. They brought up that their story happened around the time they'd just gone through with conjunx ritus. You perked up at the unfamiliar term. Conjunx Endura you were familiar with,however, you had never heard of the former.

“Uh, sorry, alien here. What's Conjunx Ritus?” You piped up, awkwardly raising a hand.

“It’s the steps bots take to become conjunx endurae.” Chromedome replied, his partner nodding in agreement. Ok. Robot marriage proposals.

“There are acts to it, four actually. Act of Intimacy, Act of Disclosure, Act of Profference, and then the Act of Devotion.” Rewind added. Cybertronian culture and customs were fascinating, you had always thought that, but the nature of this sparked a particular interest. You tentatively took the risk of pressing a little further.

“Okay, so Intimacy, what is that? I mean I know what that is to humans but, uh…” You trailed off, face burning. You felt awfully gauche for asking, but it was a valid question. What was intimate to a human might be different than what was intimate to a cybertronian.

“Prolonged contact. It is what you make of it.” Chromedome tilted his helm down to his and Rewind’s interlocked fingers.

“And Act of Disclosure is basically sharing something about yourself; something personal that usually doesn’t paint you in the best light. Profference is a meaningful gift, and the last part, Devotion, is done by the bot the initiator is courting.” Rewind took the wheel on the explanation. You wondered who had initiated their rite. Rewind’s lively personality made sense for him to take the reigns in things, but you could see Chromedome be more willing to open his heart to him. “If they accept the rite, then they perform an act of selflessness. Something that really shows the other they love them.”

“I see, thanks you two.” You nodded earnestly and for the rest of the story, couldn’t help but fidget. The second they finished, you made haste in excusing yourself. You didn’t tell them, but were going to speak to Megatron asap.

“You know they’re going to-”

“Yeah, I know. I figured it was better that they asked us than, I don’t know, Whirl or something.”

Megatron and you had been a thing for a while now, and there was… a lot to be said about that. Not that you cared anyways, you knew what you were getting yourself into, and you had no regrets. Life, you had figured, was too short for regrets. You with your miniscule human lifespan, couldn't afford to be held back by any shame or fear. Your only option was to shoot your shot. Which you did, and we're planning to do once more.

Megatron had a dark history. His faction had carried out acts of hatred towards your kind, but he has since renounced the ideology he once led with a blazing banner. The moment he met you, the Lost Light’s human liaison, he commited one last act of murder: He held technoism ideology under the water until it stopped thrashing. Guilt had fueled him to avoid you, but you extended friendship towards him. And thus he befriended you. Time passed and friendship turned to fondness. Techoism had its grave defiled.

Still, you figured that he still may never truly be comfortable with human customs, despite his newfound respect for them. You took it from the strange, wide-eyed look he had given a proposal during some cheesy romcom at one of Swerve’s movie nights you’d dragged him to. However, you were ready to compromise, and were more than fascinated by this cybertronian equivalent. Fascinated enough to follow through with it while you had the time in this life to do so.

“Megatron?” You heard the hab suite door slide open and heavy steps trod in.

“Surprisingly.” He replied, a smile crinkling the worm edges of his crimson optics. At the sight of him enveloping the space in the room, you grinned. Seeing him approach was like watching a sunrise.

“Megatron I… I have a question.” You scampered towards the edge of his desk. He sat down and offered you his hand to climb onto.

“Yes, little one, what is it?” He lifted you gently to his shoulder and began filing a report.

“Have you uh,” You paused, reading the dry statement over his shoulder. “Ever gone thought about becoming conjunx endura? I was, um, learning about conjunx ritus earlier.” You mumbled, twiddling your thumbs and tucking yourself against his armor plating. He froze, his typing stopping short and you could hear the mechanisms in his optics dilate as his eyes widened.

“I…. (y/n),” He scooped you up carefully from his shoulders and held you in front of him in large servos. The old mech looked shocked, full of hope and disbelief. “Do you even know what that entails?”

You nodded slowly, staring up at him. His eyes were wild, and you could glimpse the bloody war that raged on behind them. You felt his guilt and the deep set disgust towards himself all clashing with an aching longing, and the thrill of what you were proposing. The battle between what he wanted and what he felt he deserved was unending.

“I do. I’ve thought it over a lot, actually, I’ve thought long and hard about it but I realize… I realize that I don’t really have to? I already know what I want. If that’s something you’d be okay with, I’m ready as soon as you are.”

His stunned stare descended into a chuckle, like he’d just understood a joke. He seemed merely amused by your offer, as if deciding that you simply didn’t know the gravity of what you were saying. Just a silly human; as usual, not knowing what you were talking about. You hated more than anything when bots thought that about you, and you only wilted more as he looked away.

“(Y/n), I don’t know how you think I deserve you.” He rasped, his voice heavy, and the foundations beneath your feet began to falter. You squeezed your partner’s thumb, both as to balance yourself and comfort him.

“Megatron, look at me.” You sighed, standing taller in determination. He did as you said, the worry lines above his brow deepening as he peered down at you. “I know you. You must think that I don’t because I haven’t... I don’t know, fled? Is that what you think I’d do? Flee? Megatron, I want you to understand that I saw the worst of you before I even met you, and I still find myself here, asking you to ma- to be my conjunx. Please, you don’t have to be afraid. You know we both don’t have the time to.”

He was stunned. His deep silver lips hung open in shock and awe. You kept a face of resolve, until it faltered into concern, and after more excruciating moments of silence, fell limp into a piteous frown. The sting of rejection had began to sink into your chest.

“(Y/n).” His deep voice jolted you to reality. “Are you sure?” It was all he could say.

“Yes.” It was all you needed to say.

This was incredibly taboo.

Two days after your conversation with Megatron and you were hauling a sack containing a datapad down the halls of the Lost Light. You didn’t want to try too hard, but you couldn’t help wanting to make yourself look presentable. You decided a tie was far too formal, but a blazer? That’d work. That and some slacks, and the nicest shoes you’d saved from home. You had combed your hair back. Then forward. Then back again as you couldn’t pinpoint which looked better. Looking decidedly sharp, you timed the start of your trek with the end of Megatron’s shift.

You passed Rodimus by down the hall, and he spun on his heel, and walked instead beside you.

“(Y/n), you look nice! Any particular reason?” There was an edge to his voice, and the force behind his smile was more audible in each syllable.

“I’m bringing this datapad to Megatron.” It wasn’t a lie, that was what you were doing, but you could tell by his tensed grin that it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Really! Because he was looking really nice today too. He buffed and everything, did you know that? Hm?” He bent down as he talked down at you.

“Really? Huh.” You smiled to yourself, giddy that Megatron had decided as well to, in the cybertronian equivalent, dress for the event, and for you.

“Okay, (y/n), seriously, what’s going on?” Rodimus stopped with with his pede. You glared and walked around it.

“Rod, chill.” You sighed. His wings perked in indigance.

“Don’t tell me to chill! You know I hate being told to chill!” His fists snapped to his hips. You groaned, turned around.

“Rodimus, please, I’m going to be late. I really want to be on time for this. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I don’t want to keep him waiting.” You pleaded, your feet tapping in soft impatience. He gave you a scrutinizing squint, but yielded.

“Okay, fine. But later? I want to know what’s going on.” He huffed and continued down the halls. You did as well, making haste towards hab suite 113.

The gargantuan doors slid open for you at the press of a tiny button installed at the foot of the entrance. He had been pacing, and stopped in his tracks to turn to you. Rodimus was right, he looked breathtaking. His dark gray armor was clean and robust, and the dim lights of his room haloed around him.

He didn’t look too much different; you honestly might not even had noticed if it hadn’t already been pointed out. The change was so very subtle, but that only further delighted you. He still looked authentic. He still looked like himself.

“Hi love, sorry to keep you waiting.” You chirped, and slid the bag underneath his desk for later. You approached him, and he took you in his hands to his seat in the corner of his room.

“No need to apologize,” Megatron sat down and placed you delicately down on the windowsill. The window was round and uncomfortable to stand upon, but it didn't matter; you were reclining between his thumb and fore digit anyways.

“You look nice tonight.” You said, nestling in and giving his hand a kiss. The mech smiled.

“As do you, my dear.” He chuckled, the tip of his finger nudging at your polished shoes. “Fancy choice in clothing, what's the occasion?”

You grinned in response, shifting in his servo.

“You.” You replied simply, earning another rumble of laughter from the mech. When he laughed, pride was not the word you were looking for.

You leaned forward, sitting up and the intent in your body language compelled the mech to bring you close to his face. He brought you near, to listen to any secret you'd whisper or question you'd ask or… Or to receive a kiss you'd place on a set of lips that nearly measured your wingspan. Megatron suddenly found himself wishing he’d mass displaced to a form small enough to be able to return the gesture.

It was chaste, but loving; and when you pulled back to stare up at him, you looked nothing short of enraptured.

“I really hope one day you could feel half as loved as you are. I don't know how to say it any other way, I just… adore you. I know how you think you don't deserve it, I hear it in how you speak, I read it in the words you write.” You stood in his hand to look him in the eyes and press your forehead to his. “But we're both on borrowed time, and while we're both here, I want us to be happy.”

You heard the distinct clicks and whirrs of Megatron’s bodily mechanisms, the sound and feeling of his servos trembling underneath you, and his optics shut beneath knitted brows.

“But, before that, can I tell you something… less than happy?” You leaned back into his hand and he opened his eyes, nodding as he pursed his lips, a shaky exvent escaping him.

“Something happened once. It was, gosh how many years ago was it… (X) years? (Y) years…? (X) years, I don't know, it was a long time ago for me at least. At least, it felt like it. You know how it is for humans. Whenever it was, I remember one thing: It was my fault it happened.” You rubbed a hand over his wrist, fondly tracing the seams of his servos. You didn't bother to steel yourself for this story; this was meant to be vulnerable. This was meant to be intimate.

You couldn't keep from crying as your story came to fruition. The deep vulnerability cut you open by the belly and you were helpless to spilling your guts. The bruising shame flowered through you, but you laid it all out before him. You forced yourself not to turn away from him as you spoke, and you saw the deepest pits of your soul reflected back at you in a kaleidoscope.

“I felt disgusted with myself, I still do,” You gulped, blinking back the tears that blurred your vision. “But I realize I can't do anything to change what happened. No matter how I say the story, it doesn't change its meaning. I have to live with it. I have to live with knowing I could have done something about it, but I gave up. I was scared and fickle and stupid.”

You grimaced you rubbed your eyes, the low burn of raw skin making you squint. You took a deep, ragged breath, rubbing comforting circles over Megatron’s shaking servo below you.

“I’ve felt like that for a while but… It’s different with you. I’m not scared. I’ve never been more devoted. And…” You smiled up at him. “I think meeting you was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. You’re genuinely the best part of my life, I can’t begin to tell you how much I love you, and… Do you wanna let me down real quick?”

Quickly Megatron nods and helps you to the floor. Feeling his stare on your back like a spotlight, you rush with your heart in your throat to his desk.

“I feel like I put it better into writing.” You sniffed and chuckled. “Here, I made this for you.” As he lifts you and the offering to eye level, you uncover the datapad. Megatron glanced at you, then the gift, and pressed a gentle kiss to your teary face before slipping the tablet out of the covering. He cleared his throat.

“May I?” He murmured, and you nodded. He smiled, deepening the creases in his aged face. The mech gazed softly then at your writing in his servo, his low lidded optics two warm, red eclipses. He took to reciting your poem in a gentle rumble you could feel like distant thunder in your bones.

“To Which The Sun Does Set.

Go nearer now, with earnest great

To where the sun does set.

Come to me all bound in fate,

The same as when we met.

Though change daily we might,

As many phases mold its face

High silver metamorph of night

Thus may retain his former grace.

And may he exude it during quest

Marching onward, onward yet

His hand in mine we gently rest

In the place which the sun does set.”

Megatron fell silent, the final stanza falling from him and descending into the ambient hum of ship engines.

“(Y/n),” He croaked. “This is incredible. You’re incredible.” He lifted you closer to him, and you stood eagerly to meet the deep sweeps of his lip plating. He took to peppering tender kisses atop your head, dipping then below your chin. You stifled a squeal as lips nudges your chest and stomach. It tickled, and you couldn’t help but jolt helplessly and laugh against his smile.

“I love you so much.” He murmured into your torso, his aquiline nose snug atop your shoulder. You hugged his jaw, grinning deeply with your cheek pressed to his. You returned words of adoration, and heard the slight click of his optics closing completely. He held you there for what felt like an eternity, the deep drum in your chest in sync with the pulsating of his spark.

You thought at this moment you’d be scared, or relieved that the hardest part was over. He accepted your disclosure and your profference. But instead, you found yourself immersed in the sound his ancient sentio metallico made as you ran your palm over his cheek.

You felt him shift and you stood back as he pulled away to look at you.

“Can I take you somewhere?”

You nod.

Sitting safe upon his shoulder, you watched the hallway lights pass by in tune with the heavy clunks of Megatron’s footsteps. A few mechs passed by, offering the greeting of disgusted grimaces and hateful whispers. For the first time, you didn’t hear them. If Megatron did, you couldn’t tell. He was busy keeping his eyes forward, his expression kind and focused.

He slowed to a stop, and you heard curious muttering down the halls. You were lifted from his shoulder and placed onto none other than your favorite spot on the ship. The largest window with the widest ledge. The windowsill was broad enough for you to stand comfortably on- hell, you could dance on it if you wanted. Not to mention the best part was the view: always of the brilliant cosmos. It thrilled your inner stargazer to be able to watch the stars and planets pass by.

You scampered down from Megatron’s servo, stopping yourself with a palm against the glass, turning around to see the glowing pepper of galaxy reflected against his chrome frame. This view beat that of the universe by a landslide. As The Lost Light traveled through space, it passed by a red dwarf star, and the corridor flooded in florid hue.

“(Y/n),” Megatron’s gravelly voice whispered down to you through the scarlet haze. “Decades ago, I’d never had been able to fathom myself doing this. But my spark, I know, was forged to be yours. I love you, and I love your humanity . And I know all the questions on my mind, you are the answer to. But I have but one more inquiry, and I’m certain only you can answer this for me.”

He got down on one knee.

“(Y/n), will you marry me?”

#Megatron x Reader #Megatron #MTMTE #Reader insert #maccadam #transformers #imagines #fic #elixtxt

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notwhelmedyet · 7 years

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fic : Lost Light Pool Party

look mate, I could give this a clever title, but this tells you everything you need to know. G rating, about 3.5K , on AO3 here. All my favorite bots go swimming in the fuel reservoir. Why else do they even have a fuel reservoir? Obviously it’s for late night rendezvous and pool parties.

read below cut :

The passageways in the deep of the ship were nearly silent. The lights were dimmed to conserve energy, the motion detectors that should have triggered full lighting somehow did not observe the mech skulking through the darkness. He rounded the corner at the end of the hall and put a hand to the pressure-sensor. The enormous doorway slid open with a hiss. "Eyebrows!" Whirl shouted, as everyone inside turned to see the newcomer. "You made it!" Rung edged his way inside, stepping down onto the oil reservoir's observation platform. There were a few bots already swimming - Rewind, Chromedome, Tailgate and Cyclonus. It looked like Whirl had just gotten out of the oil, dripping onto the platform. Rung waved at the assembled crew. "Didn't want to stay cooped up in my office all night," he said, walking over to the edge of the platform and testing the temperature with his foot. "Glad you decided to come!" Rewind said. The more sociable bots, which is to say, everyone except Cyclonus, echoed him. "You're just in time to watch me make my dive," Whirl said. "It's gonna be great. Everyone hold onto your afts, we're gonna get wet." "Whirl-" Rung lifted a hand to signal this was maybe not a good idea, but Whirl had already made a running start towards the edge of the platform. He leaped for the ceiling, rotors spinning up to give him more lift as he curled into a ball. The other swimmers made for cover, sloshing as they tried to get out of the way. "CANNONBALL!" Whirl shouted as he arced towards the oil. He hit the surface and oil went everywhere, rising up in a tidal wave around the point of impact. Rung saw Chromedome gather Rewind up in his arms, turning them to block the wave with his back. It splashed over Rung, dousing him in oil. He shook off his arms, spattering the oil onto the now drenched observation platform. "I guess getting wet was inevitable," he murmured to himself, sitting down in the puddle and settling in to watch. "That was great!" Whirl said after he popped to the surface. "Next time I'll set off a few grenades when I hit the water. That'll make a real splash." "Whirl, I thought this gathering was supposed to be...discreet?" Rung said. "As in, not so disruptive that we draw attention to ourselves." "Sure, sure," Whirl said, swimming back over to the shore. "But the reservoir is pretty far from any of the habsuites. Ain't nobody around to hear us." He popped out of the oil and lifted himself to sit next to Rung. "You not swimming, Doc?" "I hadn't planned on it. I was just coming over here to enjoy all of your company," Rung said, smoothing his hands over the transformation seams on his legs. "Well that's gonna be pretty hard to do if we're all having fun in the oil and you're sitting here all on your own," Whirl said, wrapping one enormous arm around Rung's shoulders. "It's cool if you've never swam before, you can just float. The oil's real dense, you float easy." "I'm just not comfortable- "Guess who's here!" Swerve yelled, stepping inside dramatically and then striking a pose. Skids followed him in, carrying two crates of engex and a pile of curly straws. "It's the drinks man!" He followed up, equally declamatory, when nobody said anything in response to his entrance. "Thanks for inviting us," Skids said to the room at large. It was probably Tailgate who'd had the idea, but Rewind had quietly circulated the invitations and so it was hard to tell who to blame for this party. "We've brought offerings of intoxicants to make the night go smoother," Swerve said. "Since we're all friends here, drinks are free, tonight only." "Sweet! Toss me something hard, Skidders, I don't want to even remember I hung out with you losers this time tomorrow." Skids looked over at Whirl. Very slowly and deliberately, he put the case of engex down on the ground, still several steps away from Whirl, grabbed a drink for himself and walked over to the pool. "Not a bartender," he said. "And you're still an aft, Nutjob." "Not here to bartend either," Swerve said. "Folks can serve themselves, I'm here to swim. Skids, wait up!" He hustled after Skids. "Some people have no manners," Whirl remarked off-handedly to Rung. "You want anything, Eyebrows?" "If there's anything midgrade, I'd take it. I've got patients to see in a few cycles and I hate to have to activate my FID before an appointment. Always leaves me feeling shaky." "That's cause you're old, Doc," Whirl said, but he got up and sauntered over to the crate nonetheless, picking through the bottles and cubes with a delicate claw. Rung peeled his eyes away and looked back at the assembled party. That felt the right word now, everyone now in a thoroughly festive mood. Somehow they'd pulled Cyclonus away from the huge observation window. Tailgate was now riding on his shoulders, urging him to chase after Chromedome and Rewind, who were similarly piled. Swerve must have brought out a drink for Rewind, because he'd gotten his hands on that and a curly straw, which he was using to spray engex at Tailgate. Tailgate squealed in laughter covering his face with his servos, arms wrapped around Cyclonus's horn to keep his balance. "Here, Doc," Whirl said, tapping him on the shoulder with a glass of something pale blue and sparkly, a few soft floating energon pearls at the bottom drifting through the drink. The straw was thicker than usual, to be able to suck up the pearls along with the engex. Rung took the drink and nodded his thanks as Whirl sat back down, two claws cradling the roiling multicolored drink he'd mixed himself. "You can go swim," he said. "There's no need to sit here on my account. You should be having fun." Whirl laughed, rolling the liquid in the glass around in his claws to make tiny tidal waves. "That's the first time you've ever told me to let loose, you know," he said, eyelight glinting. "Well, I certainly encourage you to express yourself whenever there's an opportunity for you to do so non-destructively." Rung said, taking a sip of his drink. It was shimmery and cool, a pleasant sensation against his glossa. He double checked the engex content. Whirl had been good as his word, a light mid-grade. Across the pool, Skids and Swerve were playing a game of catch with energon pearls, Swerve tossing them high in the air and Skids splashing about, trying to catch them in his mouth. He caught one and they both crowed in delight, Swerve throwing his hands up in the air in victory and nearly losing the bag of pearls. Further away, Tailgate had somehow acquired his own straw and he and Rewind were locked in a fearsome engex spraying competition on the shoulders of their bemused steeds. "Who invited goblin-face anyway?" Whirl asked, nodding at Cyclonus. "He doesn't strike me as a party person, you know?" "I don't think anyone invited him," Rung said. "I think Rewind invited Tailgate and then Tailgate dragged him along." There was a hiss of releasing pressure as the door opened again and Rung and Whirl both turned to look as the Captain made his grand entrance. "The party has officially started, your captain is here!" Rodimus announced. He struck nearly the same pose Swerve had, hands on his hips and impossibly proud. Rung had to control himself to stop from giggling at the comparison. Behind Rodimus, Drift was herding Ratchet. Obviously Ratchet wasn't resisting nearly as hard as he pretended; a speedster couldn't push a sturdy medical bot if they didn't want to be moved. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Ratchet muttered as they followed Rodimus inside. "Come on, Ratchet, stop dawdling," Rodimus said over his shoulder. "I ordered you to relax for the night." "And here I am, 'relaxing'. Looking at this room and the bots you've got for this little shindig and imagining every likely injury I'm gonna have to fix tonight." "We'll be good," Drift said, leaning forward to rest his chin on Ratchet's shoulder. "We promised. And if anything goes wrong, First Aid's on shift for tonight. It can be his problem." Ratchet stepped away from Drift, crossing his arms awkwardly as he hurried to the oil's edge. "Sure, sure. Were either of you planning on actually swimming or just gabbing? Let's get in." Someone was feeling a bit awkward, Rung decided. Ratchet wasn't happy about Drift's public displays of affection. Though Rodimus clearly was, giving Drift a big thumbs up behind Ratchet's back before he and Drift followed Ratchet into the water. They quickly caught up by diving into the oil, head first, while Ratchet was still lowering himself in up to his knees. "Come on, Ratchet!" Drift said, spitting oil as he came back up. "It's great!" "I'm going to get oil under all my transformation seams and it's gonna be hell to clean," Ratchet grumbled, continuing his slow easing into the oil. "Drift can clean you off!" Rodimus shouted, causing Drift to grab his shoulders and to to push him under the oil to shut him up. "Drift would love to-" Whatever he was about to say was lost to the oil. They resurfaced, splashing each other and laughing. Rung redirected his attention to his drink, sucking up the first of the bubbles and popping it against the roof of his mouth in a burst of sweetness. He looked over at Whirl, who had drained half of his drink while he wasn't watching. "So what were you planning on doing, if you weren't planning on swimming, Doc?" Whirl asked. "I loaded up a few books I've been meaning to read to internal memory. I thought I might read them on my HUD while I watched the festivities." "That ain't no way to enjoy a party, Tiny! That's practically homework! I forbid you from doing homework at this party. We can be plenty entertaining." Just then, Rodimus was pulled under the oil's surface. He shouted in surprise, flailing as somebody caught him around the waist and dragged him down. Rung frowned in concern until a moment later Ratchet popped back up with Rodimus, knocking into Chromedome and toppling him and Rewind. "Didn't see that coming, did you!" Ratchet said, laughing. It took about 0.2 kliks for that to turn into a splash fight involving every bot in the pool. Even Swerve and Skids joined in. Rung was certain he saw Cyclonus splash Drift after Drift accidentally soaked him and Tailgate while trying to splash Rodimus. It was chaos. "Okay, maybe you're right, Whirl said, setting down his glass. "I should get in there and show these losers how it's done." "WHAT IS THIS FOOLISHNESS?" A boomingly loud voice from behind them bellowed. Clamping his free hand over his audial, Rung turned to see Ultra Magnus in the doorway. "The oil reservoir is not for playing about, it's for supplying the fuel furnace!" Ultra Magnus continued. "There are specified recreation areas and this, the fuel reservoir, is not one of them. Rodimus, I am incredibly disappointed that you would make such a poor example for the crew at large by-" "Look, Mags," Rodimus said, covered from finial to finial in oil from the now frozen splash fight, "I get it. You're disappointed we didn't invite you. I'm sorry! We just thought you might...you know, overreact. But now you're here, so why don't you get on in and have fun?" "I will not have f-, I will do no such thing. This was reckless and irresponsible. And look," he said, gesturing around him as he walked forwards, "you've gotten oil all over the observation platform. That is a hazard to the-" One enormous boot hit a slick of oil and slid out from under him. Magnus slipped, reaching out with a hand to grab at the platform and stop himself from falling. His hand, flailing, hit Rung upside the head, knocking him into the oil. Rung sank. Above him he could hear a muted splash, booming, that must have been Magnus falling in as well. The oil was thick and viscous and it wasn't a whole klik before his optics were useless. The black surrounded him and he drifted down until his back bumped against the smooth bottom of the reservoir and he could fall no further. He slid his arms along the reservoir bottom, staring straight up into the blackness and trying not to panic. He just needed to keep his intake shut and his vents closed and it would be okay. They wouldn't just leave him like this. They wouldn't forget him at the bottom of the reservoir. Lost in the embrace of oil all around him, trying to worm it's way into his seams and convince him to open his mouth and fill him with the dark, where he belonged. He clamped his hands over his mouth. Don't panic. The won't forget you here. It's going to be okay. The oil around him billowed, waves of pressure washing over his sensornet. Then claws appeared from the dark, scooping him up and jetting towards the surface in a froth of oil. They broke the surface and flew up towards the ceiling, Whirl's enormous arms tightening around him as they descended and landed lightly on the observation platform again. Oil must have seeped under his glasses, everything still dark as voices crowded around him. "Is he okay?" "I've never seen anyone sink that fast. Primus, that was scary." "I am sorry, Rung. That was my mistake," Ultra Magnus said from somewhere on his left. Rung turned his head and wiped at his face, trying to get the oil off his lips with an equally dirty hand. "Okay, okay, back off. Give him some space, geez, morons," Ratchet said. Someone lifted off Rung's glasses and light flooded back, a blur of his crewmates surrounding him. "Rung, why don't you float? Everybody floats," Rodimus, a moron, opined. "Well, clearly everybody doesn't include Eyebrows over here," Whirl hissed. "And back off, the doctor said to give him some space." "-although I would point out that I could not have tripped if it weren't for all the oil splashed all over the platform. So, in actuality, the blame for my knocking you into the oil is more properly placed with Rodimus," Ultra Magnus continued, undeterred. His glasses were settled back on his face, freshly cleaned and everyone bloomed into focus. They looked concerned, more concerned than they had any right to be. "I'm sorry for worrying you," he said, accepting the cleaning town Ratchet offered him and pulling it tight around his shoulders. "I'm just fine. No harm done." "Why don't you float?" Rodimus asked, unable to ever let go of anything once a question had popped into his head. "I don't know," Rung said flatly. "It doesn't really matter, though. You should all go on, enjoy your party. I'll just get out of your way." "No way!" Tailgate said, pushing forward through the crowd. "That's unfair. You should be able to enjoy the party as much as us. We can fix this. We'll make you float!" "No one should enjoy this 'party'. It is an improper use of official facilities," Ultra Magnus said. Rodimus stood up to his full height and poked at Ultra Magnus. "I am the Captain of the Lost Light. I decide what is a proper use of facilities. And I have decided, in my official capacity as Captain of this vessel, that the reservoir is additionally designated as a recreational area. I order the assembled crew to enjoy their pool party!" "Look, I don't want to be a bother," Rung said, wiping the oil off of him with the towel. "I can just go." "The crew will all enjoy the pool party. Tailgate, lead the way!" Rodimus said, pointing theatrically at the door. They trooped over to Perceptor's lab, dripping oil all over the tidy clean floors of the hallways and driving Ultra Magnus to distraction. "Going to have to reassign the cleaning droids from sections gamma and zeta," he muttered under his breath. Upon arriving at Perceptor's lab, the found he was there with Brainstorm, two improbably attired holomatter avatars in the midst of a danceoff on the lab bench. Tailgate burst through the door. "MAKE RUNG FLOAT!" Tailgate ordered. The dancing avatars froze. Brainstorm stopped the instrument he was holding. Perceptor turned and looked at them, narrowing his optic in confusion. "What the frag?"

Small delay aside, the party was back in full swing. And with the addition of Brainstorm and Perceptor, they had some music to liven the place up as well. They were still duking it out with their holomatter danceoff on the observation platform, but most everyone else was ignoring them and enjoying the music. Rung patted his trusty steed and flotation device as the oil's surface bobbed with a wave from the other side of the pool. They'd gone a bit overboard, he thought. The one floatie was quite enough, secured around his waist so he could comfortably sit in the oil without sinking. The extra emergency floats around his arms were simply unnecessary. Ah, well, at least they'd talked brainstorm out of arming it with rocket launchers as he'd initially proposed. "Who do you think is going to win?" Rewind asked, floating beside him, arms moving languidly as he kept himself in the same spot for his film. Rung looked over at Tailgate, seated on the edge of the platform as he mixed drinks, but then realized Rewind must have meant to ask him. "I have no idea. In alt-modes, I would say Cyclonus, but neither of them are terribly aerodynamic when they're swimming," he said, swirling his drink in his hand. "I dunno, Whirl looked pretty freakin aerodynamic when he dove in after you. He was like a, a, I don't know. What's a thing that's good at swimming?" Tailgate asked. "He was like that. Cyclonus is absolutely going to win, though. He's just the fastest." Rung and Rewind shared a glance, but didn't say anything. Somehow half the party had gotten roped into helping with the race Whirl had challenged Cyclonus to. Rung had thought for sure that Cyclonus would merely ignore him, but here they were. Chromedome judging, Rewind filming, Skids and Swerve marking the start and endpoints. On the other side of the pool, Ratchet was watching and laughing as Drift tried to teach Rodimus how to float on your back, a lesson that seemed to include the instructions "Legs up! Legs up!" an awful lot. Rodimus didn't seem to be very good at it. With a roar of revving engines, the race started. Rung turned to look, but with the splashing it was nigh impossible to tell who was winning or what was happening at all. Rewind's footage was probably not going to amount to much. Nearly as soon as it was started, it was over, Cyclonus raising his arm in understated triumph as Swerve bellowed out the winner. "Okay, you absolutely cheated!" Whirl said, glaring at everyone. "Even if cheating was not beneath my honor," Cyclonus said, "I simply do not care enough about your little challenge to lower myself to-" And thus the great splash war began anew. Rodimus, finally floating, yelled over to Magnus, "Look Magnus! I got it! You having fun yet Magnus?" But Magnus wasn't where he had been, treading oil peacefully by the bay windows. Drift looked around in confusion and shrugged. But in a tidal wave of oil, Ultra Magnus rose up from the deep to splash Rodimus. He looked down on his Captain and nearly, Rung would have said very nearly, smiled. "I think I begin to see the appeal," he said, then began to swim for shore. He lifted himself out of the oil with one heave of those massive arms. The cleaning droid he'd requisitioned flew around him, blowing the excess oil off his frame so as to keep the hallways clean. "I expect this whole room to be clean on my next patrol, Rodimus," he said over his shoulder as he made his exit. Rung considered his drink. It was good. It was certainly delicious. But it was missing something. Rummaging through one of the compartments above his hip, he brought out a single tiny paper umbrella, bright pink. With a fingertip he pushed the umbrella open and poked it into the drink. Perfect.

#maccadam #mtmte #mtmte fanfiction #rung #whirl #and the rest of the crew #pool party #my tags for sorting:#gay space car robots: IN SPACE #my fics #mine

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writeyouin · 5 years

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Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 21

Chapter 21 - A Happy Ending

A/N – I cannot believe that I’ve got to this point. I loved getting here, but I’m sad to see it go. Fine, if we must part ways then I’m glad it’s to a happy ending. Based on headcanons by @rocksinmuffin and @straightouttacybertron and starring fan art by the miraculous @bloodypoptart

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Rodimus pouted from his position on the balcony overlooking the entire crew. This was where he usually made announcements, but no, this time you had called for an announcement and Megatron had simply agreed to whatever it was you were about to say. If you only relayed what you were going to say then Rodimus would say it for you, but no, apparently you were going to take one of the best parts of his job away. You assured him it was only going to be this once but he highly doubted that, once you found out how great it was to say anything you wanted while everyone else was forced to listen.

You glanced over to Rodimus sympathetically as if reading his thoughts. He gave a sarcastic thumbs up, indicating you were to start, although he already knew what you were going to say with Swerve stood by your side. Everyone already knew you were dating, thanks to Rewind. This was clearly an announcement to say so officially, probably to save face after the week’s earlier embarrassment. It’s not like he couldn’t say that for you. On his spot. On his ship. As Captain. But it was fine, he wasn’t jealous or anything, so long as you would hurry it up already so he could get back to actually following his quest… as Captain.

While Rodimus heaved a dramatic sigh, which you ignored, you looked at Swerve, silently affirming that he was ready. Swerve grabbed your hand, giving a small squeeze to let you know he was as prepared as he could be, though he was secretly more frightened than he’d ever been in his entire life, including all the years he’d spent in the war; war was inevitably something all Cybertronians were used to, commitment and marriage were much scarier. In war, you could choose to rely only on yourself if it was so desired, in a marriage, you suddenly weren’t alone anymore and as such had so much more to lose.

“You sure you want me to do this?” You whispered to him as the crowd below started to get restless; it reminded you of your first day on the ship, when you had to be publicly announced for the crew to assimilate to you.

“They’ll take it from you better,” Swerve said supportively, but what he really meant was that he had to hear it from you, if only to further prove the wedding was still happening and he wasn’t forcing you into it somehow.

You took a deep breath, not needing to ask for the crew’s attention as all optics were trained on you; even those who couldn’t leave their posts were undoubtedly watching you over the vid-screens. “Hi,” You waved somewhat awkwardly. Rodimus rolled his optics and came over with a microphone, thinking about how he never needed one when it was him making the speeches.

You nodded in thanks, hefting the heavy microphone that was made for Cybertronian size and was almost the same length as your torso. “Okay everyone, so it’s pretty obvious me and Swerve are dating but that’s not what I’m here to announce. Look, before I say what I’ve got to say, well… I’m- Uh, we’re not here to seek validation or for you to ask a bunch of questions or anything like that, it’s just, me and Swerve… Well, um, we’re getting married.”

You bit your lip, waiting for an uproar or maybe some cheering or even a deafening silence. You got neither the reaction you expected nor wanted, as almost the entire crew burst into fits of laughter.

You looked to Swerve for support, but he simply shrugged his shoulders, unsurprised that the crew thought it was all some kind of epic joke. You glanced at Rodimus, who was also in hysterics. Speaking into the microphone again, you said, “Hey, this uh, isn’t a joke, I’m serious, we really are getting married.”

Nobody heard you, but deep in the crowd, Rung, Chromedome, Rewind and Whirl were watching you very closely, knowing that you spoke the truth.

Whirl shook his head, deciding to take control of the situation once and for all. He blasted a loud shot into the ceiling from the one gun he’d managed to hide from Ultra Magnus and always carried around with him for such events that might be made more entertaining with bullets. The room fell silent as Whirl shouted, “THE NEXT PERSON TO LAUGH GETS VENTILATED. NOW, I DON’T KNOW WHAT (Y/N) SEES IN THAT IDIOT, FRAG, SHE’S PROBABLY JUST IN IT FOR THE FREE DRINKS BUT IT’S CLEAR THAT SHE’S NOT JOKING. YOU ALL SAW HOW SHE KISSED HIM ON THAT DAMN TAPE. SWERVE’S GOT GAME, I GUESS.”

You didn’t know what to say now that your entire speech had been derailed. You half expected things would get even crazier or that Ultra Magnus would interject, and it would turn into another debate about gun control. Instead, the entire room turned to you for confirmation and Ultra Magnus was too distracted to help as he cringed at the burn mark on the ceiling, clearly upset that his none of his Roomba armada would be able to reach the ceiling to clean it; besides that, he’d already lost far too many Roombas to the ‘secret’ fights the crew held.

“Yeah…” You said anxiously. “What Whirl said.”

Nobody said anything for a long time and finally Rodimus stepped forward, placing a comforting servo on your shoulder and smiling confidently. You thought he was the first to congratulate you in his own way, but little did you know, he was simply happy to be back in control with what he planned to do next.

“You heard the happy couple,” He beamed. “WE’VE GOT A WEDDING TO PLAN!”

Finally, there was a small cheer as everyone came to terms with what was happening. “Okay,” Rodimus said, “So I’m thinking we’ve got a lot to do and little time. Seven cycles sounds about right.”

You glanced at Swerve, seeing how everything was completely out of your hands; in seven days the two of you would be married. Everything in your life since joining the Lost Light had happened in whirlwind time, it should have been no surprise that your wedding would be no different.

“Alright,” Rodimus continued as he began pointing out people in the crowd, “Brainstorm and Perceptor, you two are on the (Y/N)’s bride outfit. Ultra Magnus, catering detail. Rewind, I want all kinds of documentation, I’m talking films, interviews with the bride and groom on their take on the love story, get everything you can. Blaster, you’re on music. Ten, Tailgate and Cyclonus, You three are on decorations.”

Cyclonus scowled, but before he could argue, Rodimus shouted his name, “HEY, DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! YOU NEVER USE THAT SWORD FOR ANYTHING USEFUL ANYMORE ANYWAY… Primus, at least use it to cut up some origami or something. What does that leave… Mirage, you’re on bartending duty since Swerve can’t be and, let’s see, um…”

Swerve stepped forward to protest his distaste for Mirage, his chief contender, serving drinks at his wedding, but you held him back, “You really wanna serve drinks at your own wedding?”

Swerve sighed, and wrapped his arm around you, “I guess not, but the reception will be at my bar, not his.”

“Whatever you need to sleep at night, handsome,” You patted his chassis.

Rodimus practically glowed as he made his final announcement, “And last but certainly not least, only I can be the priest or whatever as the Captain of th-”

“CO-CAPTAIN,” A voice from the throng called.

Rodimus leaned over the railing, curling his fist angrily, “WHO SAID THAT?!”

Nobody answered, and Rodimus straightened up, pouting. “Fine, as Co-Captain I will officiate, Megatron can… I dunno, Megatron can be Swerve’s best man I guess.”

Megatron gritted his dentae and while he and Rodimus argued it out, Swerve looked at you pitifully, “Should I even try arguing this one?”

You gave his servo a squeeze, “Honestly, I don’t think you’d win.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

The two of you held onto one another, the calm in the eye of the storm until Rodimus said, “Till all are one,” marking that the speech was over.

“Hey,” Swerve said, “You okay to be on your own for a while? I’ve got to sort something out… It’s a surprise.”

You smiled, “How intriguing. You think you can keep a secret?”

“Every once in a while,” Swerve chuckled.

“You know, it’s bad to keep secrets in a marriage, this could very well destroy us.”

“We’re not married yet.”

“Fine,” You said playfully, “Keep your secrets. It’s just as well, I’ve got to see Rung anyway.”

Swerve kissed your head lovingly and the two of you parted ways, each on your own little mission, preparing to begin a new adventure, together.

It was taking you much longer than usual to get to Rung’s because every time someone saw you, they stopped to congratulate you, and more than once, you found your path blocked by various wedding preparations. You even heard talk that some of the bots were struggling to rearrange Swerve’s; you hoped that wasn’t true because if it was, Swerve was going to have an aneurism.

Finally, your goal was in sight and you foolishly thought you were going to make it to Rung’s office until you were once again plucked out of the air by Whirl who threw you into a supply closet, locking the door behind himself.

You remembered the days you used to be afraid of such a situation, now they had become your normal. Although breathless by the impromptu kidnapping, you decided you still had to thank Whirl for his earlier rescue in the speech, if it wasn’t for him, none of the ship’s hubbub would be happening right now.

“Whirl, I-”

Whirl waved his claw casually, “Yeah, yeah, can it fleshie, I got something important to say. ‘Kay, now I’m not saying that marrying Swerve is bad but I’ve gotta ask, you sure you don’t wanna switch to a real mech?” He pointed to himself. “I’m a real prize, y’know. Nobody can take me in a fight. Tell me, what’s better than that?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you doubled over laughing, holding onto his leg for support, “Whirl, what the hell man?”

“Don’t blow this off so easily, really think about it, this is a one-time offer, trading Swerve for me.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, still snickering. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass, but hey, if you would do me a favour and be my mech of honour, that’d be great.”

Whirl had seen enough of the films in Swerve’s bar to know what you were asking. He rolled his optic sarcastically, “You have no idea of what we could’ve had but sure, go with the orange guy. Fine, I guess I can be the mech of honour… Does that mean I get to kill Swerve if he runs?”

“I- Um- Maybe try not to do that.”

“What about stabbing him a little?”

“I’d uh- rather have him kept whole.”

“Gotcha,” Whirl attempted a wink, which ended up being one unusually long blink. “Psychological torture and a light-beating only.”

You patted his leg in a supporting manner, “Sure, that sounds like a deal.”

Turning around, Whirl unlocked the door, letting you out first. “As your mech of honour, I’m gonna go train. Gotta get buff if that orange scumbag tries to run. Primus, I hope he runs.”

You blew Whirl a kiss, which he tried hard to ignore blushing slightly anyway, “You do that big guy; you’ll be the best mech of honour a girl could have.”

Whirl walked away, leaving you to finally get to Rung’s office. You jumped up to the door buzzer, taking three attempts before you managed to press it, silently cursing yourself for not wearing your rocket boots.

Rung opened the door, a look of surprise contorting his features. He thought he’d be the last bot you would want to see, considering his slightly strained relationship with Swerve. “(Y/N), what a pleasant surprise. Is this a professional meeting or a social call?”

He highly doubted it was the latter, becoming further shocked when you claimed it to be just that. Settling himself down in his chair, and giving you a boost to the desk, he waited for you to set the tone of the conversation, ever conscious that if he spoke first, he would blur the lines between patient and friend. Although he didn’t fully approve on your and Swerve’s hasty decision, he was determined to be supportive, afraid that if he wasn’t you would stop visiting him in both personal and professional terms.

When it became clear that you weren’t sure how to start, Rung found it impossible to ignore his processor, and spoke up quietly, “Presumably, you’re set on your decision so I’ll spare the lecture and simply ask, is this definitely what you want?”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking Rung in the optics, “More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I love him Rung. He makes me feel safe and God, so, so happy.”

Rung nodded, satisfied with you answer, “Very well. Then I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you. I um- Excuse me for getting straight to the point but I need to know something, how much do you know about human weddings?”

“Not a lot, I’m afraid.”

You paced the table, taking time to find the right words, “Right… well, me and Swerve have decided that we’re going to somehow mesh our traditions, one wedding with the Endurae Ceremony thrown in. In human weddings there’s this role I need filling and it’s super important to pick the right person.”

Rung observed you, waiting for you to ask his advice on who to pick. He sighed, deciding to intervene before things got out of hand, “(Y/N), I cannot influence your choices on who to choose during your ceremony. It would be unethical-”

You grabbed his servo, “I want you to walk me down the aisle like the father of the bride is supposed to.”

Although Rung didn’t know what the significance was behind your request, he could tell from the tone of your voice that it was an important role. He took off his glasses, wiping away some coolant, “(Y/N), you’re sure about this?”

“Rung, you’ve guided me since my first steps on this crazy ship. You’ve made me a better person, and there is nobody I’d rather have giving me away than you. You’re the closest thing I have to a dad here and I want you by my side on my wedding day.”

Graciously, Rung bowed his head, “It would be my honour and a pleasure.”

You grinned, jumping to hug his chassis, feeling the comforting warmth of his arms wrapping around you, “Thank You.”

Rung stroked your back, waiting till you pulled away from him before speaking again. “The pleasure is all mine, though if you could tell me more about my role and how I am to fulfil it, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Yeah, sure. Well, to put it-”

You were interrupted by the sound of a gong echoing over the ship’s announcement system, followed by Rodimus’ impatient voice. “(Y/N), how many times have I gotta tell you to carry around your communicator? Honestly, it’s zero, but you’re slipping, forgetting it in your room. Do you know how rude that is? What if we needed to track you? Like we did, right now, today, for a VERY important thing.”

You stared at Rung, silently begging him to tell you your communicator hadn’t really been bugged with a tracking device like you would give a dog or child. Rung raised his servos sympathetically as Rodimus continued his rant.

“What? You think I’m gonna tell you what the super cool thing is. Guess again. But if you’re not in rec-room 2B in ten minutes- wait, scrap that, make it twenty, gotta account for those tiny little legs… so cute. Anyway, twenty minutes, or I make no promises on what I’ll do to your room. Captain out!”

You shook your head disbelievingly, “I uh, I guess I have to go. Sorry Rung, rain check?”

Rung chuckled light-heartedly, “Yes, of course. Go find out what Rodimus wants, and don’t worry about me. I’m going to do all the research I can into human weddings.”

He helped you down from the desk, wishing you well as you ran down the hallways, trying to beat the timer Rodimus had set, and cursing the entire time as a cramp formed, hitting you like a needle every few seconds.

When you finally got to rec-room 2B, Rodimus was waiting outside, tapping his pede. “Primus, did you skip leg day? I’ve been waiting here forever,” He whined.

You held your hand up, ready to argue, but quickly let it drop, still trying to catch your breath.

Rodimus shook his head, placing a servo on the small of your back and guiding you into the room where a table was waiting with three seats. Cyclonus sat on the left seat and Nautica on the right, leaving the tall, middle seat for you. With Nautica’s assistance, you clambered up, watching Rodimus as he ran out of the room.

“What’s going on?” You asked worriedly.

“Don’t know,” Nautica said. “Rodimus dragged me in here as quickly as he could. Told me if I waited long enough, he’d get me a whole set of new tools… I think that was a lie.”

You nodded thoughtfully, turning to the ever stoic Cyclonus. “Tailgate,” He answered curtly, as if that was any kind of explanation.

Rodimus, re-entered the room, placing both servos on his cheeks, his mouth forming into a socked ‘O’ as if he never knew you were there. “Why, what have we here?” He asked loudly, strutting in front of the table like a peacock. “Well, if it isn’t our table of judges for the brand new, one-time-only, mech of honour contest! Today, for our three judges, we have a line a mile long, full of hopeful contestants to be (Y/N)’S MECH OF HONOUR!” He revved his engines excitedly.

“Uh, Rodimus,” You squeaked, thinking of Whirl. “I already-”

“AND HERE’S CONTESTANT NUMBER ONE!”

Tailgate skipped in, clearly having been trained by Rodimus on exactly where to stand. His visor flashed eagerly as he waved at you.

Rodimus patted him on his shoulder, “Tailgate, why don’t you tell our panel a little bit about yourself and why you deserve to be (Y/N)’S MECH OF HONOUR!”

“Are you gonna shout that every time?” Nautica asked almost boredly, thinking of the tools she would never get.

“Withhold any comments until after the audition please, judge Nautica,” Rodimus commanded, his optics still trained on Tailgate who began his audition.

“Hi, I’m Tailgate and I’d make a great mech of honour for the same reasons I’d make a great Co-Co-Captain.”

A few other mechs peaked in from outside, trying to determine what they were supposed to say during their auditions.

“Rodimus,” You smiled awkwardly, feeling it stretch too far across your face.

“Not now judge,” Rodimus waved you off.

You sighed, seeing that there were no other options. “I already have a mech of honour!” You told the room, “I picked Whirl earlier.”

Riptide booed from outside, and Tailgate began muttering to himself, “Don’t get to be mech of honour, don’t get to be Co-Co-Captain, don’t get to be anything.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you were planning any of this,” You gestured at the line of mechs who were blocking the door to listen in.

“(Y/N),” Rodimus held his helm in his palm. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)… You know how impulsive I am, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t blame me!”

“I blame you!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the disappointment surrounding you. “Ugh, fine, I guess I can have two bridesmai- uh bridesmechs.”

Upon hearing this, Tailgate pushed Rodimus away from you, “As I was saying. I would be the best candidate for a tonne of reasons, right Cyclonus?” He winked.

“I’m not going to be a part of this,” Cyclonus deadpanned, leaving the room solemnly.

“Wha- CYCLONUS, COME BAAAACK,” Tailgate whined, chasing after him.

Nautica pulled out her datapad, making a note. “Hmm, chases after his own personal problems instead of focusing on the bride. Not a good quality in a bridesmech. Too bad, he was doing so well until then.”

You smirked, amused with how scientific she was even now; it looked like most of the decisions of the contest would be up to her for the rest of the game Rodimus had dragged you both into.

“Contestant number two, we are waiting for you,” Rodimus called, in a game-show host kind of voice.

Riptide stepped forward, “Hi, I’m Riptide, but all my friends call me… uh Riptide.”

You snickered into the palm of your hand, finally beginning to see the appeal in Rodimus’ game, even if it was to be a long one, judging by the ever-growing queue outside.

Swerve hugged you close to him, wrapping you in your blanket that he’d moved over to his berth along with an assortment of pillows. You had already told him of your long day and how it ended with you picking Nautica, Tailgate, Rewind, Chromedome, and Riptide as your bridesmechs, mainly because everyone kept complaining until you did.

“A gaggle,” You groaned. “I have a gaggle of bridesmaids.”

“Bridesmechs,” Swerve corrected you playfully.

“They’re like Gremlins! Spill water on one and it multiplies.”

“Primus, I love you,” Swerve murmured at the reference.

You peeked up at him, frowning suddenly, “Hmm, you’re awfully quiet tonight. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been talking.”

“Yeah, talking but not babbling. What’s with that? I mean- Wait!” You sat up, “Are you trying to keep your secret thing quiet by not talking.”

Swerve blushed, going ridged, “NO!”

You slapped his chest, grinning idiotically, “You totally are. What is it? Come on, tell me!”

Swerve mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

He nodded vigorously.

“I bet I can get those lips open.”

He shook his head. You placed a single finger under his chin, drawing him close to you and kissing him, slipping your tongue in to rub against his metal one. He moaned into your mouth, accepting defeat, even when you pulled away.

The two of you laid down again, and Swerve finally spoke, albeit quietly, “Are you happy?”

“Of course, why do you ask?”

“It’s just… in Mork and Mindy, they waited four years for the slow burn until Mork proposed to Mindy. Four seasons, that’s like four years for you guys. Are you sure I’m not rushing you?”

You stroked Swerve’s cheek, “I think this is more like a Sam and Diane kind of thing in Cheers.”

“Sam and Diane… (Y/N), are you breaking up with me?”

“What? No, they get together in like, season one.”

“And then they repeatedly break up and they finally stop seeing each other after breaking off their engagement in the season four finale.”

“Really? God, I have got to see more of that show.”

Swerve let go of you, “You haven’t seen all of cheers?!”

“Save it for the honeymoon babe. What I meant was, they spend ages beating around the bush until they’re finally together and then it’s a full-on relationship, in season one at least. Now come on, no more Cheers talk, tell me at least a little bit about your day, pretty please.”

“Fine,” Swerve huffed, “But the Cheers thing isn’t over, it’s just on hold.”

You nodded agreeably.

“What to tell you, what to tell you… Oh, I chose our song for the first dance.”

“Is it one of those funny ones where we pretend to slow dance then pick out a hip-hop number?”

“W—well, not uh, not really,” Swerve stammered, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as his cooling fans kicked on. “I-I mean we could do that if you want, but I was thinking something more traditional?”

“Really? I thought you’d like an opportunity to show off.”

“I uh- I guess we could. I’d have to pick a different song but if that’s what you want then…”

Seeing how much Swerve wanted his traditional dance made your heart flutter. You pecked his lips, “No, whatever you’ve picked will be perfect, I just know it.”

“I’m still not telling you what song it is,” Swerve smiled.

“Oh, come on,” You pouted, “I’d tell you. Man… I cannot believe you can keep a secret.”

“Speaking of secrets… I’ve been thinking about how to integrate the four acts of The Conjunx Rites into a human wedding and, uh… how much do you know about the Conjunx Rites, by the way?”

“Between my vast knowledge of everything? I know… nothing.”

Swerve vented his fans anxiously, “Um, the first act is the act of intimacy.”

You bit back a laugh, thinking of the night before with Swerve between your legs. Reaching over and tracing your fingers lightly over his interface panel, you winked, “Pretty sure we already got that one covered.”

Swerve blushed and stammered on, “I-I was thinking we c-c-could just hold hands or something, for the crowds.”

You giggled, and stopped teasing him, keeping your hands to yourself, “Alright, then what?”

“I’m gonna save Act 2 for last because I dunno, we’re rebels and kinda screwing with tradition as it is, so next is the act of profference. We have to give each other a gift of some kind.”

Reaching behind him, Swerve pulled a small orange metal box from underneath the mountain of pillows. “I want to give you this officially on the day, but I think you should see it now.”

Wordlessly, you took the box, opening it to find a plain purple ring, the likes of which you’d never seen before. While you stared at it, Swerve started explaining.

“I don’t know if you’ll get it, but it’s made out of my innermost energon… Percy found a way to stabilize it into a metal, so, uh, well, it’s important to me and I’ll explain if you need me to.”

As it happened, you didn’t need Swerve to explain; you already knew that receiving inner-most energon was the highest form of love and respect you could receive from a Cybertronian.

“I get it,” You said quietly, wiping your eyes free of tears.

Trying to alleviate the sombre, yet joyous mood, Swerve said, “Brainstorm wanted to make it, but he was planning to inscribe it with ‘One Ring to Rule Them All.’ There’s still a good chance, he’ll put something like that on your dress.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. Closing the box gently, you handed it back to him, “I don’t know what I can possibly give you that could ever match up to that.”

“You’ve already given me something though (Y/N).”

“Please do not say that boxset of ‘Three Men and a Baby’ I found.”

“(Y/N), you’re exempt from act three because you’ve already given me something nobody else could; a reason to live.”

You looked up, shocked and afraid, despite his happy tone. You were about to say something when Swerve got the ball rolling again with act four. “The final act is the act of devotion, which is to perform a spectacular demonstration of love. I think we can both agree that’s the wedding.”

“So, then what’s act two?” You whispered, feeling an almost electric atmosphere once you asked.

“The Act of Disclosure, which I think we should do here and now, otherwise it kind of defeats the object of telling an intimate secret… We can’t really do that in front of a crowd.”

Swerve waited with bated breath to see your reaction; asking someone who wasn’t prepared to reveal something intimate about themselves wasn’t exactly comforting.

“I…” You took a deep breath. “On Earth, there was always so much pressure to find someone who you’re meant to be with. They don’t really show it on TV, but we are told all the time that we have to find somebody or die alone, there’s never any time to relax or be free under so much damn pressure and it is terrifying to think that we- that I was brainwashed into it just like everyone else. ”

“I never trusted anyone enough to think of them as someone I’d want to be with. When I got here, I acted more confident and mature and, I um, guess it was kind of a clean slate for me. I never actually expected that I’d find someone to spend my life with but suddenly, when the pressure to fall in love was off, I met you. Swerve, you are my happy ending, when I didn’t think I could have one anymore. I don’t um- Is that what you were thinking? Is it intimate enough? I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be do-”

Swerve pulled you into a hug, his entire body convulsing in silent sobs. Suddenly, you knew why this step was so important, and so you held him, until he was ready to share his secret.

Swerve shook himself, as if trying to physically shake his nerves away, though it was evident he couldn’t as his vocaliser filled with static when he spoke. “Um, I’ve… Let’s face it, I’ve lived through a war. I’ve seen horrible things, done worse sometimes but that’s no secret of any Cybertronian. My secret is- W-What I’m trying to say… When war lasts that long, you have to expect that people, even the most desperate are going to be pushed into relationships, some of which last, most of which break. Some are intimate, but a lot were purely sexual… My point is, that even though I looked for anything in either of those categories, nobody ever loved me- Scrap, nobody even liked me enough to well… Y’know, uh- You were my first.”

Swerve half-expected you to laugh, despite the sober atmosphere. Instead you drew him close once again, staring into his visor, “Then all those others were idiots and I got lucky. I love you and I am so damn proud to be your first.”

Swerve looked away, “You’re not embarrassed by that?”

You shook your head, feeling your way over to his interface panel, a misty glint to your eyes. Swerve grabbed hold of you gently, still not meeting your gaze,

“Then… Then you won’t be embarrassed if I ask to wait till after the wedding? I know we already did it before but now… I want to wait till we’re married, and you are Mrs. Swerve.”

You drew back scowling, “What the hell, Swerve?”

He shrank back from you, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Why? Why would I be Mrs Swerve? You don’t even have a last name, if anything, you’d be Mr (L/N).”

Swerve’s jaw dropped as he stared at you, soon grinning goofily. “Is this how it’s gonna be from now on?” He asked. “You giving the orders and me just obeying like the mindless idiot who worships you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Thank Primus,” He laughed, grabbing you and rolling back onto the berth so you were on his chassis again.

You woke up, with a nauseous stomach, finally afraid now it was your wedding day. How had seven days passed so quickly?

“Swerve?” You mumbled. “You awake?”

You turned over, finding the berth empty, aside from a note that had been messily scrawled over the rest of the berth.

Hey fleshbag, it’s bad luck to see the groom on the wedding.

Swerve will be returned, mostly in one piece at the wedding.

- M. O. H. (MECH OF HONOUR)

You smiled, the message alleviating your nerves slightly. All the same, you wanted to call Swerve and make sure he wasn’t getting cold pedes. Had it not been for a banging on the door, you would have.

“Who is it?” You called, falling off the berth ungracefully and hissing as you rubbed your sore hip.

“It’s your fairy godmother,” Brainstorm answered cheerily. “With your carriage and might I say, a very glamorous ensemble for you.”

You opened the door wide, “…Does it have your face on it?”

Brainstorm gasped, covering his faceplate playfully. “Y/N, this is your big day and you think I would make it about me? How dare you? I’ll have you know that this is a traditional Earth wedding outfit that I have lovingly synthesized with you in mind.”

“So Perceptor wouldn’t let you?”

“Not even when I offered to put his photo on it too, talk about selfish.”

You nodded almost mournfully, playing along with his game, “That prick.”

“Yeah… Anyway, here it is,” He stepped outside, bringing your outfit back with him. It was in the traditional white, but instead of being a dress or a tuxedo, it was both. There was a small white zip for you to tear away either the skirt or the pants so you could choose your style. You teared up slightly.

“Yeah,” Brainstorm said sympathetically, “I mean it is good, but I’d cry too if my face wasn’t on it, where it clearly should be. No time for that now though, your carriage awaits.”

You tore your eyes away from the outfit, peeking through the door to see a giant truck with a bow on it; the bow had Brainstorm’s face on it.

“Magnus?” You asked, somewhat dazed.

“(Y/N), it’s almost time for your wedding and you have not even done your hair yet? This is going to throw everything off schedule,” Ultra Magnus reprimanded, proving that it was indeed him. He sighed, switching to his communicator, “Rodimus, (Y/N) isn’t ready yet… I already told you- No I will not use those ridiculous code names and furthermore- You will refer to me as Ultra Magnus or else- Fine,” Ultra Magnus said defeatedly, apparently losing whatever argument he was in with Rodimus. “Flaming Cupid, Princess Perfect is running late. Keep Lucky Orange calm and where he is, we will be there soon.”

You giggled quietly to yourself.

“I heard that Princess- I mean (Y/N). Get inside and get ready. Schedules wait for nobody.”

“Okay, I’m going, but real quick, are you comfortable doing this? You’ve never driven me anywhere before.”

“(Y/N), this may well be the most important day of your life, I would not be here if it wasn’t.”

Brainstorm leaned over to you, covering his mouth-plate and whispering, “He was afraid anyone else would speed.”

“Speed laws are to be obeyed,” Ultra Magnus warned you exasperatedly.

With that, you skipped back into your room to get ready for the first day of the rest of your life.

Swerve waited at the end of the aisle with shaking legs, the only thing that kept him from pacing was Megatron’s servo on his shoulder; the action was supposed to be supportive, but coming from Megatron, it only felt intimidating.

“I’m gonna purge my tanks,” Swerve whimpered.

“Do it glitch, I dare ya,” Whirl warned from opposite him, throwing a metal, painted bouquet at Swerve and hitting him square on the head, much to Megatron’s chagrin.

“Hey!” Rodimus picked up the bouquet, shoving it at Whirl’s chassis. “Remember, we’re here for (Y/N).”

“And me too, right?” Swerve squeaked, feeling faint.

Rodimus rolled his optics, “Yeah, yeah, you too, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Suddenly, music began playing, and everyone stood up as they’d been told to do. Nautica, Rewind, Chromedome, Riptide and Tailgate ran to the front where they were supposed to be just in time for Ultra Magnus to drive around the corner and let you out. Ultra Magnus transformed, spotting his Brainstorm bow for the first time and tearing it off in disgust. He took his place in the back, while Rung went to your side in his holo-form, so he could link arms with you.

You barely had time to look around at all the intricate decorations as you were walked down the aisle towards Swerve who looked completely dumbfounded that you’d actually showed up.

“Are you nervous?” Rung asked you quietly.

“Absolutely,” You whispered back.

“Don’t be, from everything you’ve told me over our messages this past week, you’ll do great.”

You squeezed his arm in thanks.

“I believe it is customary for the ‘father of the bride’ to offer a compliment. I may not be your creator, but I must say, you are glowing. I am truly happy for you (Y/N), ah, but here is where we part ways.”

Rung went to take his seat, but you pulled him back slightly, pecking his cheek, “Thank you. For everything, I mean. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Rung put a hand over his spark, bowing his head humbly and leaving your side, as you went to join Swerve.

“Finally,” Rodimus groaned, “That took forever.”

Chromedome nudged him warningly, giving Whirl just enough time to lean close to you, “Told you I’d get the glitch here in one piece.”

You nodded, holding back a laugh at the already unconventional wedding.

“Alright,” Rodimus boomed, “Let’s get on with it so we can get to the P-A-R-T-Y!”

Megatron glared at Rodimus, silently telling him to tone it down, but Rodimus didn’t care as he went into a full-on impression of an over-the-top-preacher. “I have been told that Act two of the Conjunx Rites has been completed, can I get a HALLELUJAH?!”

The entire room cringed and Rodimus scowled, “Ugh fine.” He grew semi-serious, facing you and Swerve with a smile, “Swerve, (Y/N), if you would like to initiate Act One of the Conjunx Rites?”

You reached out for Swerve’s servo, smiling radiantly the entire time. Thankful that you had made the first move, Swerve grabbed your hand gratefully, squeezing a little too tight, though you didn’t mention it.

“Very good, and I believe you have something to give one another?”

Once again, you surprised Swerve by holding out an orange metal box, identical to his. He reached out carefully, “(Y/N)… What-”

“Open it,” You said.

He did, finding a locket that would fit perfectly in one of his sub-spaces. He flicked open the locket, finding a lock of hair inside. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape at the unexpected gift.

“I may not have any inner-energon, but I figured this is close enough.”

Rewind leaned forward to get a better view, his camera displaying a live-feed to all the vid-screens on the ship, including two large ones for all the attendees.

“Ha ha,” Riptide laughed, “Gross.”

Nautica nudged him and Swerve ignored the pair as he tucked the locket delicately into his subspace, offering you his own box shortly afterwards, letting you put on the energon ring yourself because his servos were shaking so badly.

“Great,” Rodimus clapped his servos together, “Then that leaves act four, Swerve, I believe you’ve prepared some vows but I looked at them and they were long, so here’s a queue card that I wrote and believe me, it’s an improvement.”

He pulled a card from behind him which Megatron firmly snatched away, glaring the entire time, “Let. Him. Speak.”

Rodimus grumbled, stepping back, “Fine. Bet he doesn’t say ‘Till we are one’ though.”

All optics and Rewind’s camera went onto Swerve who stood dumbly, unsure of what to say now that he didn’t have his datapad with the speech on it. “I um-” His voice filled with static and he had to wait a minute to clear it. Ratchet creeped behind him, turning a fan on in case he overheated; you withheld a wry smile.

“(Y/N),” Swerve began, “You- You’re the Monica to my Chandler. You listen to me even when I get crazy and I know I’m not good enough for you, Primus, this whole ship does, but you’re here anyway. I want to spend every nano-click with you, in the non-creepy way. You’re my universe.”

The static began again and Swerve had to take a small step back, though he still held onto you, more for support than anything else.

“(Y/N),” Rodimus said, “Care to add anything to that?”

“What can I say other than what I’ve already said?” You mused. “You’re my happy ending Swerve, and if you can deal with all my gross human stuff, that’s good enough for me. I love you, you’re my lucky star… and I’m totally in it for the free drinks,” You laughed and the crowd chuckled along with you.

“Then by the power vested in me,” Rodimus went back to his preacher voice, “as Co-Captain of this ship, I present to you, these Rodimus stars for the Lost Light’s first ever interspecies marriage.” Seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out two gold stars, passing the human-sized one to you and handing the other to Swerve. “I now pronounce you Conjunx Endurae and mech and wife.” He looked at Swerve, “What are you waiting for? Kiss your lady love!”

You didn’t wait for Swerve as you jumped into his open arms, kissing him while the crew cheered.

The two of you were broken up by a loud shot from another gun Whirl had managed to smuggle in. Once again, Ultra Magnus stared mournfully at the ceiling, wondering exactly where Whirl had got the other gun from; he had confiscated last week’s after the first incident.

Whirl picked you up, “FIRST ONE TO THE PARTY GETS A PRIZE KISS OFF (Y/N).”

A mass of Cybertronians transformed, each trying to beat Whirl to the bar while Swerve was left alone, wondering how he was still left competing with the crew over you, even now that you were married.

After you’d given a victory kiss to Whirl, the party kicked off to a roaring start, with you being dragged off in every direction while Swerve tried to catch up. Finally, you managed to reach him at the bar, which he glared at enviously, hating that Mirage was serving drinks, even on the happiest day of his life.

“Hello, Mr (L/N),” You bowed graciously.

“Hello, Mrs Swerve,” Swerve curtsied. He offered you his arm, “If I may ask you for a dance?”

“How courteous of you,” You smiled, then paused to listen to the current song. “Yep, I always wanted my first dance to be to Wrecking Ball.”

Swerve snickered, “I’m afraid not.”

He led you to the dancefloor then waved at Blaster, who instantly switched the song off. Frank Sinatra’s ever sweet melody, ‘I Love You Baby,’ played instead and you bit your lip, fearing your face would practically split open from smiling too much. Swerve led, matching the pace of the song, and gazing at you adoringly the entire time.

“This was your big surprise?” You asked.

He nodded vigorously, not trusting his voice to match the lie he’d just told; so long as you thought the song was his secret, he was fine.

You leaned into his chassis, ignoring the faster pace of the chorus so you could simply hold onto him, spinning slowly, “I love you too.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Swerve responded ecstatically, picking you up bridal style. You squealed, letting him twirl around, helpless to stop him anyway. All around, the night was perfect and you would never dream of asking for anything more.

Later on, when you were distracted once again by many a bot who wanted to congratulate you, Swerve received a comm on his private channel. He checked his messages, finding a text from Brainstorm and Perceptor, telling him his request was ready. Checking on you once again, Swerve slipped out, transforming so he could be at Perceptor’s lab in record time.

He let himself in, finding the two bots talking about you and the ethics of the project Swerve had asked them to complete. “It’s ready?” Swerve asked. “And you’re sure it will work?”

“Of course,” Perceptor said almost offendedly. “We invented it. It works.”

“Can I see?”

Brainstorm grabbed a remote control, pressing it with flair so one of the flooring panels lifted up as well as thick plumes of smoke.

Perceptor waved the smoke away casually, “Was the smoke machine really necessary?”

“Well you wouldn’t let me have the laser show,” Brainstorm explained. “Where’s your sense of presentation?”

Swerve didn’t listen to either of the pair, he was too focused on what had come out of the floor to care.

Perceptor turned his attention to Swerve as the orange mech stroked a lifeless mini-bot model that looked remarkably like you yet worlds different at the same time. “Are you sure (Y/N) will agree to this? We are talking about moving her consciousness from one body to another.”

“Human life is too short,” Swerve said as if it was an answer. “She doesn’t have to say yes today. Primus! I want her to stay human as long as she can but… But I just got her, I’m not losing her in the blink of an optic. Make sure this will work, I’ll get her to agree. She’s everything to me.”

He walked out of the lab, transforming so he could get back to the party. Finally, things were going his way.

THE END.

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#more than meets the eye #MTMTE #transformers #transformers idw #Transformers MTMTE #maccadam #The Lost Light #ll #swerve #swerve x reader #swerve x human reader #reader #reader insert #every bot ever known to man #chapter 21 #part 21 #a happy ending

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writeyouin · 7 years

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Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 10 - Part 1

Christmas Cheer Part 1

A/N – Based on a lot of head-canons from @rocksinmuffin and @straightouttacybertron so extra special thanks to them for that. I was gonna make you wait longer but Happy Holidays my friends. Dedicated to @millebellete for the epic new icon.

Warnings – NSFW/RATED M UNDER THE “KEEP READING” CUT.

Rating – T

You slumped in a beanbag despondently. You’d only been awake for around twenty minutes and the day already sucked. Before you could contemplate your depressing scenario further, the hab-suite door opened to Swerve who peered around cautiously to check if you were even awake yet; he was always careful not to wake you up.

“Hey (Y/N),” he greeted jovially.

“Hey,” You mumbled.

Swerve frowned, “What’s wrong?”

You got up, shaking your head and throwing out a quick, imitation smile that paled in comparison to the real thing, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Come on, slumped shoulders, low mood, something’s up. Is it that shark week thing you warned me about?” He sounded vaguely panicked, though he wasn’t actually sure what you meant by shark week.

“No, nothing like that, I just… Something I found out.”

“Let’s hear it, or do I have to talk your ears off first because I will, you know I will.”

“Alright, alright, it’s um… My datapad shows the date back on Earth… it’s getting close to Christmas. Christmas is kind of a big deal back on Earth, y’know? I’ve never not… I’m gonna miss it is all.”

“(Y/N),” Swerve murmured, lost for words at the hurt on your face; he couldn’t imagine the pain you were feeling. You couldn’t go home and nobody else on the ship knew Earth holidays like he did, not to mention it was a time spent with family and friends who you’d also lost.

“Forget it,” You said glumly. “I’ll see you later, I think I need a walk… on my own.”

Swerve didn’t stop you from leaving. He couldn’t, not when a bright idea was firing through his processor. He couldn’t fix the Earth problem, but he could distract you from it; the whole ship could distract you.

Little over an hour later, even in your quiet nook of the ship, the Rodimus gong rang loudly through the halls; it didn’t need the PA for that.

“Attention everybody,” Rodimus chimed over the speaker. “In honour of our resident human, I would like to announce the Lost Light’s first HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA.”

You stared, slack jawed at the speaker, did he mean what you thought he meant?

Muffled echoes came over the speaker, “Why aren’t they cheering? They’re supposed to be cheering.” Rodimus cleared his vocaliser and continued, “Since you obviously don’t know what it means, we’re celebrating the Earth holiday of Christmas… what do you mean Hanukkah? Does she celebrate that too? What do you mean you don’t know? Fine, whatever. Christmas and Hanukkah. Ultra Magnus has prepared… ugh, pamphlets on the subject because he managed to ruin holidays too but please, take the time to learn all you can about what I’m told is ‘the most wonderful time of the year.’”

Rodimus heaved a loud sigh at the lack of enthusiasm, “Alright, fine, it’s a big chance to party and get overcharged…. Sure, now they cheer. Rodimus out.”

The speakers fell silent once more and you sat lost for words in the corridor you’d been hiding in. Your new communicator rang with the Friends theme tune which was reserved for Swerve.

You answered it dazed, “Swerve?”

“(Y/N), did you hear the announcement? What do you think? I asked Rodimus this morning and he was totally on board with it. We can decorate the bar, and set up a movie night, and teach everyone the songs, and-”

“It’s wonderful Swerve, you’re the best, thank you,” You were glad he couldn’t see you crying, even if they were happy tears.

“No problem (Y/N), really.”

“What’d Maggie and Megs say?”

“Ultra Magnus got weird and mumbled something about Verity, whatever that is, then he took off and said he had to decorate and told me not to get into trouble. Megatron couldn’t get a word in over Rodimus.”

You sniffed back more tears.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You wiped your face with the back of your hand, “meet you at the bar?”

“Can’t wait.”

“So, what’re we thinking?” Swerve asked, standing next to you in the bar; for once, with the lack of bots, you could stand on the floor with him.

You framed the corner of the room with your hands, holding them out, “What about a huge tree over there? Wait, do we even have a tree… or any decorations for that matter?”

Swerve sputtered, faking offense, “Pfft, do we have decorations. What kind of cave dwelling cretin do you take me for? I mean, you may as well ask if the sky has a moon or-”

“So, we do have decorations?”

“Well, maybe not here but we’ll get some soon, right after you decide what we need.”

“Alright soldier, are you willing to follow orders and commandeer any supplies we need?!”

Swerve saluted, “SIR, YES SIR!”

“AND ARE YOU WILLING TO WAGE WAR ON ANYONE WHO STANDS IN YOUR WAY!”

“SIR, YES SIR!”

“EVEN IF IT MEANS INFILTRATING THE ENEMY CAMP!”

“SIR, YES SIR!”

“THEN BEGIN SOLDIER, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK WE NEED.”

“START WITH A WREATH.”

“GOOD, AND?”

“LIGHTS THAT TWINKLE?”

“AND?”

“A SKELETON?”

“YES- Wait, a skeleton? Why a skeleton?”

Swerve held his hands up, “Sorry, I was thinking of Halloween, got excited.”

You grinned, “Fair enough, I’m honestly impressed you got that far, I was hoping you’d screw up sooner.”

Swerve bumped into you playfully, you returned the gesture, laughing as you did so.

“Now,” You commanded, “logistics. I think we’re going to need some help on this one. You got anyone in mind?”

“Tailgate would be good, maybe Chromedome and Rewind, Nautica.”

“Who’s Nautica?”

“Oh right, you two haven’t met yet but she’s awesome and-”

“She? There’s another she on the ship and you didn’t tell me? Go, go get her, I must meet this other she, go.”

You pushed against him, making no difference at all, “Okay, I’m going. I suppose I should bring Velocity back here too if you’re going to meet all the she’s on the ship.”

“Yes,” You squealed, clapping your hands together. “Oh, and bring Rung too.”

“Ring? Why Rang?”

“I swear, you all do the name thing on purpose. Rung has to come because he’ll be happy to be invited, be considerate and invite him before I’m forced to kick your can.”

“Riiight, because you did so good moving me just then.”

“I swear, I could actually destroy you. I’m barely keeping my dangerous animal ferocity contained right now. Us flesh sticks are monstrous, have you never seen Freddy Kreuger or Jason?”

“Frag, if you’re as dangerous as those two, I should run. I’ll leave you to the logistics while I gather the team.”

You saluted once more, and Swerve was out the door, practically bubbling over with excitement.

Boosting yourself up, you sat on one of the barstools, writing a list of what you needed on your datapad.

“Ten!” A mechanical voice gargled.

You squealed, almost falling off your seat, then turned to face the very mech who’d scared you. You’d met Ten before briefly. As far as you knew from the others on the ship, he wasn’t very intelligent, and he served as hired muscle to Swerve.

“Ah, hey Ten. How’re you doing?”

“Ten.”

“Hodor.”

“Ten?”

“Groot?”

“Ten?”

“You’re a mech of many words… Want to keep me company while I plan?”

“TEN!” He threw himself on the stool next to yours enthusiastically.

“Great, first I was thinking a wreath at the door with a red bow. Green and red are the colours of Christmas.” You showed him some pictures on your datapad.

Ten tilted his head, examined the picture, and opened a storage space in his chest panel. He pulled out some pieces of flat silver metal, folding them expertly. It soon became clear that he was making a wreath of his own, albeit devoid of colour.

“Ten, that’s incredible!” You praised as he made a bow with the metal.

“Ten!” He smiled.

“You know, whichever idiot said the thingy about the Ambus test needs their head checked; you’re way smarter than any dumb old test.”

When Swerve came back with the party, minus Nautica who was busy, Ten had piled decoration upon decoration on top of the surrounding tables, each waiting to be placed around the room.

“Whoa…” Swerve marvelled, “What happened here?”

“Ten’s a crafting genius.”

Nautica pushed past everyone to meet you, “Tell me something I don’t know. Hi, I’m Nautica, it used to be Nautical but that didn’t sound right and I babble when I’m excited. You’re a human!”

“And you’re female!”

The two of you squealed excitedly before regaining composure and shaking hands, though Nautica started inspecting your hand, turning it over in hers and making observations.

“What are the lines on your arms?”

“Veins and arteries, they carry blood to and from my heart.”

“Incredible.”

“Right?”

“What else does your body do?”

“Loads of stuff, it can-”

“(Y/N)!” Rewind called impatiently. “Christmas stuff.”

“Right, okay.” The bots gathered around you waiting for what you had to say. You held up your datapad again, showing various images of what each item should look like. “As you can see, Ten has made just about everything we need but silver is so boring on its own. What I need all of you for is a painting spree. Ten, Chromedome, Nautica, you’re the tallest, so you’re on tree painting duty and decoration hanging when that’s done. Rewind, the tinsel really needs to sparkle. Rung, Tailgate, you’re painting the baubles and banners. Swerve, you’re on snowflakes, and I’ll get anything else. Everyone okay with that?”

Everyone agreed enthusiastically and began their duties. Rung proved invaluable, painting over the base coats of the decorations with incredible detail due to his time spent on model ships. With three people working on the tree, it was done in no time, leaving them free to join the hubbub of the decorations table. Swerve was sprinkling liberal amounts of glitter in your hair, claiming you were the angel for the top of the tree. While you laughed hysterically, Rewind filmed, saying he was making a Christmas documentary and asking you every question he could think of on the subject. You started from the beginning, telling any and all traditions that came to your head along the way.

“What’s that? Is it a mini tree?” Rewind zoomed in on the decoration you were painting.

“This is mistletoe, you hang it from the ceiling then when two people step under it, no matter who they are, they have to kiss.”

Chromedome looked lovingly at Rewind; it was a look of so pure and strong that you felt lucky simply to witness it.

Tailgate grabbed the unfinished mistletoe from you, holding it above his head jokingly when you came to get it. “So, like this?”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be is it?” You giggled. “Very funny.” You kissed his faceplate and grabbed the mistletoe back from him with a rocket boot thrust. “Keep playing like that and I won’t give you one for your hab-suite which would be a real shame; think of Cyclonus, all handsome under the mistletoe.”

Tailgate practically glowed at the comment; he was clearly wondering whether Cyclonus would humour him in such an odd tradition. The conversation flowed on as the bar was decorated beautifully. While everything had been made of metal, it served to give the decorations a unique Lost Light look. Swerve kept a box of leftover decorations to use in the hab-suite where the two of you headed after everyone parted ways, babbling excitedly about anything that came to mind.

“I was thinking,” Swerve said, hanging around your kitchen nook while you prepared a Christmas film on the other side of the room, “we should create a Christmas tradition for the Lost Light.”

“Got anything in mind?” You asked, absentmindedly.

“How about naming some new energon cocktails? We could make them seasonal specials, like that eggnog stuff I’ve heard about.”

“So, stuff like, Red Nosed Retro Energon.”

“Yeah, and Santa’s Sleigh-er.”

“Elf-ergon.”

“Jingle Juice.”

“You know, you should really write these down before we forget them.”

“Don’t worry, I remember everything you say.”

You turned around to face him, raising a curious eyebrow, “Pardon?”

Swerve tapped his helm, “G-great memory.”

“Oh, then can you get your great memory over to the berth, so we can start the film?”

For film nights, Swerve always moved the berth into the middle of the room where he’d lay on one side and you’d get the other since he didn’t fill it even when laid out. You’d already prepared a small mountain of pillows to make the hard metal comfy as usual and were awaiting him to start the selected film.

“Here,” Swerve held out a steaming mug of hot chocolate he’d prepared in your tiny kitchen; manoeuvring the small items was much more of a struggle than he’d guessed, and he’d made more of a mess than he cared to admit but the result was there and for that he was proud.

You blinked back surprise, “Thank you.”

“No prob Bob. What’re we watching?”

“Love Actually. It’s the absolute best Christmas film ever, if you can hack the sad parts.”

Swerve’s vocaliser crackled and his cooling fans span quietly, a film called Love Actually was sure to be a romance; it would be the first romance the two of you had watched alone. Were you trying to tell him something or was he imagining things again?

As Swerve laid comfortably on the berth, you started the film and took a sip of the hot chocolate.

“How is it?” he asked hopefully.

You struggled to swallow the thick gloop that was congealing in your mouth. “Like cement,” You garbled.

At the despair on Swerve’s face, you burst into laughter, ungracefully spraying remnants of hot chocolate which brought Swerve into your gales of laughter. You cleaned yourself up and settled into the film. Swerve sat, enchanted with the film until you got up and laid on top of him.

“Wh-Wh-” he tried to speak but couldn’t.

“I love this part,” You said enamoured, getting comfortable on his warm frame. Your head rested against his spark casing and your legs were curled up, limiting you to his chest panel.

While Swerve’s mind reeled, you thought nothing of the small action; it was something you did to friends and family on Earth constantly. Your leg stretched out, accidentally gliding over his interface panel. Swerve threw himself up at the sensitive touch, knocking you to the floor underneath the berth.

“Ow! Swerve, what the hell?”

“(Y/N)! Are you okay?” He’d gotten over the initial shock and was now concerned for your safety; it was at least a four-foot fall.

“Yeah, I landed on the pillows you threw. What happened?”

“I uh- I got scared.” The sentence wasn’t entirely a lie, feeling the pressure of your foot against his interface panel was terrifying; did you even know how much you were torturing him?

“You got scared?”

“Y-yes.”

“Of a child playing the drums?”

“Yes? I mean, w-what if the girl rejects him? After a-all he’s done, it’s too scary to t-think about.”

“Right… Well, if you’re okay to continue, I promise it works out okay for him.”

“Y-yeah, we can continue.”

Swerve didn’t know whether to be relieved or hate himself when you took your usual place on the other side of the berth. He was either a genius for resolving the situation or the galaxy’s biggest idiot for ruining what could have felt wonderful, even if you had no idea what you were doing.

Swerve was restless. He’d made up the excuse that he needed to recharge when you went to bed because he couldn’t face anyone the way he was feeling; too much would come spilling out concerning you. Now, he hated himself for lying because the dull throb of his interface array was almost painful. You’d pressed against the containing panel; you’d started this, yet you got to sleep without a care or trouble in the world.

Yes… You were asleep. The realisation hit him hard. He’d pleasured himself to thoughts of you more than once before. He’d also promised himself that he wouldn’t do so again now that you lived together. Then again, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt… him.

Swerve’s interface panel opened seemingly of its own accord. He gritted his dentae together, slowly angling his head to see you, all wrapped up in blankets; the small sound hadn’t bothered you, you didn’t even stir.

Swerve grabbed hold of his already pressurised spike, pumping at it quietly, sensually. He shouldn’t be doing this. Seeing you asleep in a cute poodle tank top should have made him feel worse, he should be guilty watching you and sure a part of him was; a miniscule part which went easily ignored. The rest was more aroused; you were right there, in front of him.

He shut off his vocaliser seconds before a loud moan erupted; going this slow was torture as much as pleasure. As he rubbed his spike with one servo, he used the other to circle around his valve, finally inserting only one digit in; it was his smallest digit and the closest he had to imitating you.

If you only opened one eye, you’d see him in all his disgrace. You’d probably be disgusted, maybe even hate him. Instead, you were stuck in a deep slumber, oblivious to what was happening only feet away.

Before sharing a hab-suite with you, Swerve masturbated to various fantasies varying from fucking you over his bar, to being tied up while you dominated him; each scenario was wilder than the last and he could still see your underwear around your ankles as if it had been real.

Now however, he couldn’t see you as some exotic fantasy; not this time. You weren’t screaming his name. He wasn’t using toys on you or making you use them on yourself. He wasn’t imagining whether you could take the full length of his spike. No, this fantasy was different… tamer. In it, you were cuddled up on his lap, while the two of you told each other future hopes and dreams. It wasn’t a fantasy of lust but of love. Swerve couldn’t fully comprehend his feelings for you as his cooling fans blasted and an upcoming overload jumbled his thoughts but as he jerked off into the final stages of an overload, he loved you.

Looking down at the mess of trans-fluid covering him, Swerve wasn’t concerned with cleaning up the mess or making his cooling fans quiet down. He was even more aroused than before; he’d done it and you hadn’t woke up. He had to do it again.

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writeyouin · 7 years

Text

Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – The Real Thing

A/N – Based on a lot of @rocksinmuffin head-canons so extra special thanks to them for that. I’d also like to give a big shout out to @robotyuris who left an awesome message in my inbox which was really nice, yep I’ll do your fanfic btw but I do have a few questions since I’m surprisingly new to the whole transformers fandom.

Warnings – NSFW/RATED M UNDER THE “KEEP READING” CUT.

Rating – T

Rewind’s documentary on you lasted weeks. No matter what you were doing, he would walk by your side, asking questions. Whenever he asked about you specifically, you’d give a vague answer that changed the subject, hoping he wouldn’t notice; he always did but never pushed it, how could he when everyone on the ship knew what it was like to lose their home? Rewind sent the interviews over the ships radio-waves, waiting till he could edit it to put it on video. As a result, a few members of the crew had requested that the two of you host a show together, answering their questions; although it didn’t interest you, it did make you feel more welcome aboard the large ship.

At the start of the ‘documentary’, Chromedome had taken to avoiding you completely, after a week or so he started walking behind the two of you, then beside you, and finally he started talking to you; despite his initial shyness, you quickly found a friend in him, even with his occasional, self-depreciating attitude. Having Chromedome and Rewind around helped you become more accustomed to other bots, at least to the point where you didn’t fear them and would sometimes initiate a conversation with others. It was somewhat like being a celebrity, bots would approach you in the hallway, some excited, others nervous, then they’d usually apologise for bothering you, say a fleeting comment, which you’d happily reply to, and dash off, clearly happy. Despite your new-found company, it didn’t fight off the constant loneliness that gnawed at your insides.

"Oh!" Rewind lit up, snapping you out of your daydream, "You haven't seen where all the mechs hang out after a shift."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah, there's “Visages” and Swerves, which would you prefer?"

You knew nothing about either place, so you opted for the first one. The three of you started on the way to “Visages” but quickly found the route blocked by a throng of mechs, all apparently trying to get to some form of event. Chromedome picked you up and grabbed Rewind's servo; he was used to looking after Rewind but ferrying the two of you through the crowd would be a challenge, one knock and you could fall, which distressed him to no end.

Sensing his partner's distress, Rewind suggested heading to Swerve's instead.

"Good plan." Chromedome said, clearly relieved, though he didn't let go of either of you.

Swerve had long since given up on his mission to see you, some mechs got all the luck and he wasn't one of them; perhaps he simply wasn't good enough to meet you.

'At least I have Rewind's interviews,' he thought miserably, playing one about music genres on his private audio channel between serving drinks; he always thought he knew all the types of Earth music but there were so many more genres than he could’ve imagined. Languidly, his optics scanned the bar, travelling to the entrance where, for some reason, a crowd was gathering.

"What's going on over there?" Swerve asked Cyclonus who was sat unperturbed at the bar.

Cyclonus, who was much taller than Swerve, looked over the bots and got up to leave, "The human's here."

Swerve almost overheated, he was so excited it was a miracle he didn't short circuit on the spot. He had to find a way to you, then again, with the entire bar’s patronage already bothering you, he didn't want to overwhelm you, there had to be a way to get to you without looking like a creep.

"Alright," he shouted over the hubbub, trying to appear cool and collected, "Give her some room or no more drinks tonight."

Everyone ignored Swerve, too curious to ogle you to care. You stood high on Chromedome's shoulder, using his helm for balance, attempting to spot who was trying to help you. You saw the mini-bot behind the bar and whispered in Chromedome's audio receptor.

Chromedome nodded, then addressed the crowd authoritatively, "We're just here to relax, give us some space please."

Something about Chromedome's tone demanded respect. The crowd dispersed, each bot heading to their previous area in the bar, most eyeing you up as Chromedome carried you to the bar. He helped you down, you sat cross-legged on the table top while he sat with Rewind on the bar stools.

Swerve took a few moments to think about what he was going to say before approaching you, shooting a cool wink, "Hey there, I'm Swerve, your friendly neighbourhood bartender. For our resident human, how about a free cube of energon?"

"I can't drink energon, sorry," You shrugged off the offer apologetically.

Swerve grinned sheepishly, speaking faster than you thought possible, "Right, yeah, I knew that, I can get some human stuff, OJ and coke and all that other stuff, that can be free too. I mean, of course it would be, you don't carry shanix, that's money by the way, did I mention that-"

"Easy Swerve," Chromedome stepped in.

Rewind's optics lit up jovially, he'd guessed Swerve would be happy to meet you; it seemed that, after all the two of you had been through, you both needed a friend right now.

"Swerve here is somewhat of an expert on Earth," Rewind bragged.

"I wouldn't say an expert," Swerve blushed.

"Maybe, maybe not, either way, he has some interesting stories."

"If you can stand your audials being talked off," a mech taunted from across the bar.

Swerve cringed, so far, he'd offered you a drink toxic to humans, babbled incessantly, and now been heckled; it wasn't a great introduction.

You ignored the heckler, determined to smooth things over with the bot who'd attempted to help you, "I'd love to hear some stories," You said.

"Really?" Swerve lit up, jumping straight into one of his tales "Okay, one time I was on a quest to find the lost ship of Starjet, an old bot from back in the day, and..."

Chromedome and Rewind left the two of you alone, getting a booth in the corner of the bar to simply enjoy each other’s company.

The hours ticked on and you quickly found that the heckler was right, Swerve could indeed talk your ears off but not in an unpleasant manner; you actually found it a nice distraction from the usual questions of home. After a while, you yawned tiredly, Swerve was horrified, the knowledge that humans only yawned when tired or bored echoing in his mind; he hoped it wasn't because of the latter.

"Are you okay? If you want to talk about something else we can, how about you or Earth? Your favourite movies, maybe?”

You shook your head, "Sorry, I'm just sleepy, need to recharge, y'know?"

Swerve nodded vigorously, "Yep, no problem. I can call someone to take you back to your hab-suite or um... I could take you... if you wanted," his spark was heavy as he waited for the probable rejection.

You looked around the bar which had cleared out apart from a few stragglers. "You sure it's not too much trouble?"

"Like you could be trouble," he guffawed giddily, "I'll close up here and walk you back.

"Thanks."

If possible, your smile would've made Swerve blush, he was awe-struck. As promised, he shut the bar, showing the few remaining bots out before escorting you back, talking about anything and everything to do with the ship and crew; he was dying to ask some more personal questions and find out more about you but he didn't want to push you away when you'd so clearly avoided answering them for Rewind.

Upon reaching your room, Swerve felt suddenly lost for words, instead of staying quiet though, he began babbling again, "Here we are, your room, not that you didn't know that, you live here so yeah, you probably knew that unless you think it all looks the same or um, you know. You're welcome in the bar anytime by the way and I can give you the number to my private channel if you need me, wait, sorry, humans don't come with a comm-link, Primus that was stupid, I mean I'm stupid, not you, you haven't done anything to-"

"I'd love to hang out again," You cut him off with a smile.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's nice to have somebody to talk to as a friend, most bots just want to ask me loads of questions which, quite frankly, I don't want to think about now, y'know? That and they all want to know what my hair feels like; it was nice to just talk, thanks for that."

Swerve didn't answer for a long time, you sighed and said, "You're wondering about the hair, aren't you?"

"It's so unique," Swerve said defensively.

"I'll let you touch it once, that's all, no pulling."

Swerve held a digit over your head, hesitating momentarily before lightly grazing your hair. He didn't linger, as much as he wanted to. "It's soft," he murmured, mesmerised.

"...I guess. So, I'll drop by the bar sometime?"

"Whenever you want. How about tomorrow?"

"Can't tomorrow, Rung makes me go to weekly psyche evaluations since I'm the only human here; how about the day after?"

"Like I said, you're welcome whenever you want."

You smiled, opening your door, "See you then."

You headed to bed, leaving Swerve to go to his own hab-suite. Initially he’d intended to recharge but he couldn't, there was too much to think about. From the second he knew you were on the ship, he'd planned on being your friend, he never imagined he'd feel anything towards you.

"No," he reprimanded himself, "I don't feel anything other than friendship. I mean, she was cute and all but what's really to love other than the attentive way she listens or that cute little human yawn, maybe even how soft her hair is, or that she let me walk her home or- oh no!"

He covered his face with his servos, being your friend would either be the best thing in his life or it would destroy him from the inside; Primus, he hated himself.

Swerve’s servo stroked his interface panel, gently coaxing it open. At first, he’d felt guilty at the idea of doing anything to thoughts of you, but the more he pondered it, the more he realised you’d never want a relationship with a Cybertronian anyway; if being with you wasn’t an option, what did it hurt to pleasure himself thinking about you?

His thumb circled over the tip of his spike, softly at first as he imagined all the ways your small hands could touch him, reaching places no Cybertronian ever could. He moaned huskily, taking time to insert one digit into his valve, then two, and finally three, all the while fantasising that it was your tongue. Primus, just the word tongue was so alien, so… exotic. His cooling fans blasted on at full speed, stopping him from overheating and blacking out.

His free hand reached out, grabbing his spike and rubbing slowly up and down, picturing scenarios where he, the suave bartender would shoot you, the mysterious babe from a galaxy far, far away, a smooth line, something like, “Nice legs, what time do they open,” before sweeping you off your feet and having you do everything he was doing now and more. Could your small frame even take his spike? He’d give anything to know. However, if you couldn’t, there were multiple alternatives, equally as exciting as regular interface.

His vocaliser stuck, he was already close to overloading. He didn’t want to stop yet but the images of what you’d be like under your clothes were driving him wild; he’d never seen a naked human before but he didn’t think you’d be too different from a Cybertronian.

How would you speak during interface? He pumped his spike faster, the first few drops of trans-fluid spilling from the tip.

He could practically hear you now, “Overload for me,” You demanded and so he did.

Covered in his own trans-fluid, with even more fantasies of you floating through his processor, Swerve fell into a satisfying recharge.

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