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tapedeckshoard · 4 months

Note

Hello there lovely! I know you said mostly human centered so I'll leave a human alternative beneath this one if you don't feel up to it ^^

But the basic concept goes like this, Decepticon Reader (GN) is captured by the Autobots for intel. They refuse to spill which leads to interrogations, after which Ratchet typically patches them up. I'm thinking good old enemies to lovers, and as a bonus I think its more fun if reader is on the "crazy" side. As in, the smiley-type with a unnerving tiny amount of sadism.

If your not feeling up to it then simple headcanons revolving around a Human Decepticon reader with Kleptomania is also fine. Take your time with these darling <3

-🩹

Oooo, interesting idea! I tried my best! It's more enemies than enemies to lovers but oh well! This was fun to write! I kind of ran out of steam near the end. . .

Patching Up

Ratchet x GN!Cybertronian!Reader

SFW

1852 Words

You never pegged the Autobots as the sort to do interrogations. Violent ones, at least. But you supposed war brings out the worst in everyone, including those like the bots standing before you. How long had this been going on? You hadn’t bothered to keep track. It’s not like it mattered. You were trapped here until you either managed to escape, died, or by some miracle, Megatron decided to save you. You sincerely doubted the third option was happening. So that left two.

The first option was preferred. Escaping would allow you to get away with your spark still intact. But the Autobots were deceptively good at keeping you contained. When you weren’t getting scolded for information, they kept you locked in a warehouse storage unit of sorts, something you noticed they had a lot of in their base of operations. Normally, you’d be able to bust out with no problems, but they reinforced the thing, making the door nearly impossible to break. Not that your servos were free to break them. Cuffs kept them firmly together. You were just thankful cuffs were all they put on you.

Of course, there was always the second option. Dying wasn’t the ideal solution, but at least it would get you out of this situation. And who knows? Maybe Primus would be a better conversationalist than these Autobots.

You slumped against the wall, helm clicking against the hard concrete behind you. Above all, being a prisoner was boring. You supposed that was the point. Keeping you locked alone for long periods of time, only to drag you out and interrogate you until they got bored of you.

They were no strangers to violence, either. They tried to keep up their calm facade. But when push came to shove, they were no different than your faction. You had the gashes to prove it.

Energon stained your exterior, metal bent and faded, wires shoved out of place.

It was a miracle you hadn’t fully shut down. Well, you supposed you shouldn’t call it a miracle. The Autobot medic kept you well enough to continue the interrogations. He barely spoke to you, optics staring at whatever injury he was working on at the moment.

You tried to get under his skin, tease him a bit, but that only led to him cutting his operations short and leaving you to leak energon. So you learned to keep your mouth shut.

After months of this nonsense, you knew Megatron was never going to save you. He probably thought you had already perished. And you also knew that the Autobots were not going to stop their interrogations, either. And with Ratchet constantly patching you up, you weren’t dying anytime soon.

All of these thoughts led you to come to one conclusion. You either had to give up the information, or die.

You stood up, pushing yourself off the wall. You banged your cuffs against the door of your makeshift cell.

“Hey!” you called out, loud enough that you knew they could hear. “I’ll talk! Just let me out of here!”

It didn’t take long for you to be dragged out of your cell, Bulkhead pushing your back any time you paused or lost pace with the others. They kept your cuffs on, all optics on you as you were brought to the main silo.

“You wish to disclose what you know?” Optimus questioned you, optics narrowed skeptically.

“Do I really have a choice here?” you spat back, leading Bulkhead to nudge your back none-too-gently. You growled, shooting him a glare. “Push me again, and I’ll bite your arm off,” you threatened.

Bulkhead reared his servo back, ready to strike, before Ratchet intervened.

“Can we focus here?” he snapped out, looking between you and Bulkhead angrily. He focused on you. “We’ve been at this for cycles. Why change your mind now?”

“I’m not allowed to change my mind?” you questioned almost teasingly, barely stifling a smirk.

“I don’t believe you,” Ratchet replied, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“You know I don’t,” Ratchet sneered.

You faked a frown. “You’ve been patching me up for cycles. And not once have I tried to end your life. And you know I could if I wanted to.”

“You’re not stupid enough to make an attempt on my life, you’d have nowhere to run.”

“You think I’m smart?” you cooed out. “D’aww, thanks.”

“Enough,” Optimus demanded, and the room fell silent. You weren’t crazy enough to interrupt a Prime. “Will you reveal the information we seek?”

You scoffed. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“The location of the Decepticon warship,” Ratchet told you. You shot him a look.

“The sky, probably,” you snarked out.

“We know you have the ability to find the Decepticon warship. You’re the best tracker the Decepticons have,” Ratchet pointed out.

“I used to have the ability,” you replied with a huff. “Now? Who knows. It’s not like I’ve had the time to brush up on my tracking skills.”

“Will you make the attempt or not?” Ratchet snapped at you, clearly growing tired of your snark.

You rolled your optics. “Fine,” you told him. You looked around, spotting the Autobots’ pathetic excuse for a computer system. “I’ll need access to that piece of scrap. Give me a few cycles, and I’ll have the location pinpointed, at least temporarily.”

It was hard to work with an Autobot constantly hovering around you. You knew they didn’t trust you. They wanted to make sure you weren’t sending some sort of signal to the Decepticons. Not that you would. At least not now. Maybe back when you first got captured, but you grew to realize that your fellow Decepticons did not care about you. You were another cog in the machine.

You let your annoyance fuel you, your desire for revenge against those who had led you rot in this silo.

Most of the time, the bot watching you was Ratchet. The others still had duties to attend to. They came and went, but Ratchet stayed. You grew used to his presence. He didn’t talk much, which was a relief. The only time he spoke was if he suspected you were up to something. But that became less and less frequent.

It was quiet, save for the sound of your digits tapping against the digital keyboard. The others were not present, so it left just you and Ratchet. He hovered behind you, as always.

“I’ve found it,” you spoke up, breaking the silence, watching the blinking dot on the screen coast lazily across the sky.

Ratchet looked past you, optics scanning the information. “Hmph,” he finally said after a moment of silence. “Took you long enough.”

You turned, scowling at him. “I did it, didn’t I?” you snapped.

He looked at you skeptically. “Yes, I suppose you did,” he murmured.

You huffed, walking away from the screens you’d been stationed at for the longest time. “I’ve done my job,” you told him. “Am I free to go?”

“Free to go where?” Ratchet replied. “You’ve betrayed the Decepticons. You’ll be melted down for scrap if you return.”

“Anywhere but here,” you spat.

Ratchet huffed incredulously. “You think we’re going to just let you leave?”

Your steps were hard against the silo floor as you marched up to him, close enough to reach out and strangle him. “Who is going to stop me?” you questioned.

Ratchet didn’t back down, meeting your heated gaze. You watched his servos ball into fists at his sides. “You will remain here until Optimus and the others return.”

Before you realized what you were doing, you raced forward, using your body weight to throw him onto the floor. You stumbled atop him, quickly caging him underneath you. Your weapon activated, and you pointed it directly at his spark.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you snarled.

Ratchet was stunned for a few moments before attempting to push you off of him. You didn’t budge.

His optics narrowed, and you felt a burning sensation on your side, realizing he’d activated his welder. You could smell burning metal.

You scurried off of him, clutching your side, feeling the residual heat still lingering.

He stumbled, regaining his footing, and you two stared at each other, nobody making the next move. You walked slowly around him.

“You’re injured,” he pointed out, making you scowl.

“And whose fault is that?”

“You attacked me first.”

You scoffed. “I may not be a Decepticon anymore, but I am not an Autobot. And I refuse to stay in this silo any longer.”

“That decision is not yours to make,” he replied.

You wanted to tackle him again, but you didn’t. This entire fight was stupid. Even if you managed to fight your way outside the silo, you couldn’t get far without the Autobots on your tail. They’d just drag you back here.

You huffed, turning your back. You stormed over to a medical berth, sitting down stubbornly. “Fine.”

He followed behind you, optics trained on the burn he’d given you during your fight.

You noticed and shot him a dirty look. “Admiring your handiwork?” you spat.

“Let me take a look,” he said.

You kept your servos firmly covering most of the melted metal. “Why?”

“I should make sure you aren’t permanently injured.”

You wanted to tell him to leave you alone, but you also knew that he was a medic, and that you shouldn’t let your anger get in the way of him looking at an injury. You knew he was skilled at patching you up. He’d shown that before.

You begrudgingly moved your servos, optics trained on the burnt and melted metal staining your side.

He crouched down, looking over the injury. “Does it hurt?”

You fought back a humorless laugh. “Yes, it hurts.”

“It’s still burning, then,” he concludes. “I need to cool down the injury.”

“Then quit talking and do it,” you told him, annoyed.

He pulls a metal tin from his subspace, opening the cap and pouring some of the clear salve onto his servo. “Are you going to kill me if I apply this?” he asked you.

You huffed, making sure your servos were fully clear of your injury as you shot him a glare. “I’m still deciding,” you hissed.

The paste was cold, but it did get rid of the burning sensation that plagued your exterior. You let out a quiet sigh. “Thanks,” you murmured out, almost inaudible. “I guess.”

He scoffed. “I’m a medic, it’s my job.”

“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised at the amount of ‘cons who don’t do their job,” you quipped, rolling your optics.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he replied.

You shot him a glare. Just because you weren’t a Decepticon doesn’t mean you’d stand for him slandering your former allies. Even when you brought it up in the first place.

“Anyway,” you said. “Does this mean you’re going to shove me back in that cell now that I’ve pinpointed the warship for you?”

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

You hummed, a small smirk appearing on your lips. “You got that right.”

#macaddam #transformers #writing #fanfiction #transformers x reader #writers on tumblr #tfp x reader #tfp #ratchet #ratchet transformers #ratchet tfp #ratchet x reader #maccadam #tfp ratchet #transformers prime #cybertronian!reader #gn!reader #i also made the gif

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tapedeckshoard · 4 months

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Could you do maybe a gn human reader and Cosmos becoming friends over long-distance/ham radio transmissions? Cosmos is a lonely little flying saucer and he deserves some love. G1 or IDW

D'aww, I miss him! I wish Hasbro would do more with his character, honestly. He hasn't been featured in much. As such, I don't really have a great grip on his character, but I tried! This is shorter, and more just a ramble on your idea. Still, I hope you enjoy! (P.S. I don't know anything about radios so if I got something wrong, oops!)

Radio Waves

Cosmos x GN!Human!Reader

SFW

643 words

You and Cosmos became friends by accident, funnily enough. You were surfing through radio stations, trying to find a specific channel, when you picked up a long-distance station unfamiliar to you.

That’s when you heard his voice. He seemed to be talking to himself, the sound staticy over such a long distance. You found out his name was Cosmos, and that he’d been assigned to monitor the moon and the area around it for Decepticon activity. Now, you had no idea what Decepticons were, but from what Cosmos was chattering about, they weren’t good. Out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but try and reach out one day.

“Is this Cosmos?” you asked, holding down the transmit button on your microphone, hoping the signal was strong enough to communicate with wherever he might’ve been.

“Woah,” a familiar voice replied. “This is Cosmos. Who is this?” You introduced yourself, explaining your ability to pick up on his chatter through a radio you possessed.

He didn’t seem to care much about the backstory, and honestly just seemed happy to have someone to talk to.

The first night, you two talked for hours about anything and everything. Who you were. Who he was. Where he was. What he was doing. You listened, entranced, as he explained himself. You weren’t quite sure you believed his story about being an alien robot, but you accepted it, anyway. You didn’t care if he was telling a lie. Robot or not, he was interesting. And he seemed just as lonely as you were.

That’s how you started chatting almost daily, answering questions back and forth, him describing deep space, what it looked like, how far he’d gone, what he’d seen while circling around.

“I wish I could see all that,” you confessed sleepily, leaning against your desk as you spoke into the microphone in front of you. “That sounds beautiful.” “Yeah,” he replied, voice cutting through the static. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It gets lonely up here.”

“You’ve got me to talk to,” you pointed out.

“That’s true. But that wasn’t always the case. I know this is my job, but. . .”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to understand. “Could you ever visit me one day?” you asked, voice soft.

“I’m not supposed to,” he replied after a moment of silence. “My job is up here. Not down there.”

“Can’t you. . . take a day off? Have someone else watch the stars? Just for a day. . .”

Cosmos fell silent, and you didn’t have to see him to know he was contemplating your words.

“I. . . I’ll see what I can do,” he spoke up. And then the line went dead.

You didn’t hear from him for a few days after that, waiting and calling out on the radio, only to receive static in response. You hoped he was okay. Did you say something wrong? Did he not want to speak to you anymore? Surely not. . . right?

One night, almost a week with no response, you were slumped in your chair by your desk, absentmindedly staring out the window as you listened to the radio in a hopeless attempt to hear him.

That’s when a loud sound pierced your ears, and your eyes widened as you stared at the spaceship that just landed in your backyard.

You raced outside, almost tumbling out the door before you came to a halt next to the green saucer.

Something inside you told you that this was the person you were talking to. And so, despite your trepidation, you spoke. “Cosmos?”

Piece by piece, he transformed in front of your eyes, mechanical parts moving and slotting into place until a green robot stood in front of you, dwarfing your small stature.

“I got a day off,” he said, and though you couldn’t see his mouth, you could tell he was smiling.

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