Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hello everyone!!!!

It is with immense pleasure that I finally joined the Transformers fanfiction fandom, yayyyyy. I don't know where to begin, but I'll try.

First: this place I created here will be my idea catapult, a place where I'll write epilogues or short stories derived from a story I have in mind, and seriously, I have SO MANY I CAN'T COUNT THEM. If one of these shorts manages to gain an audience, maybe, like maybe, I can make a series out of that short, and I swear, it will be VEEEEERY LONG.

There are so many stories. Like, a autobot warrior who lost his memory receives "help" from a bounty hunter to recover it, and along the journey, he must decide whether to embrace the illusion of living without problems or regain his memories and return to a bitter reality he is experiencing in his life, while this bounty hunter, who always believed that living alone was the best choice, will now experience having a partner, or perhaps...an amica endurae.

But of course, after he learns a little about his friend's past, he must fight with all his might to make him give up on having all his memories back permanently, and then, together, flee far away from Cybertron. UUUUUURRRG this is so exciting

 

Or maybe it's about a Decepticon who wakes up in a different territory on Earth, in a body that isn't his own, a human body. He meets a human woman, they talk, and end up forming a bond of friendship, learning a little about each other's culture. She must help him get his body back. From strangers, they become friends, from friends...they become something more. But life isn't all roses, and this bot must decide whether to live a life of struggle and servitude...and betrayal, or to have something he believed the universe would never give him: love...and tequila, ice cream, video games, and one more little thing (depending on the person) that Cybertronians don't have. hehehehehehe ;)

I also intend to include time travel (Beast Wars reference), other universes, humanformers (maybe), Shattered Glass, a story focused solely on the Seekers (especially Starscream, he's my favorite, that little rascal!), Lost Light, Jetfire/Skyfire and his twin Jetstorm (these two are my favorite duo and I have so many stories for them). Oh god, I don't even know what else to put here, I think that's all.

I'm finishing a prologue to a story that I intend to post here soon and see if it works out, but until then, that's all. Constructive criticism is always very welcome. This is my first time on a writing platform, so I need a lot of advice on writing; my ears are always open.

Chapter Text

Pain was the first sensation he felt. An intense pain, the kind you get when you wake up after taking the hardest hit of your life, then came that discomfort of the sun shining into your eyes. Which was strange. If the sun was out, why did he feel...cold?

 

"Ouch! My head..." he whispered in pain. He didn't know why it hurt, what had happened?

 

A shiver ran through its body as it lay on a kind of pile of ice. While its optics adjusted to the surrounding environment and the incoming light, it couldn't help but notice a few snowflakes falling on its face. "Hmm, where did you come from?" After a long time recalibrating its sensors, the bot made an effort to sit up, which turned out to be a terrible choice, actually.

 

His whole body trembled with pain, It felt like he'd been run over by a truck or some kind of tank. Ugh! How he wished he'd woken up in a warm, comfortable place right now.

 

The young man observed the state his body was in: from what he could see, its color seemed completely deteriorated by rust; the only thing that gave it a little color was the dirt, a black, pasty liquid, and a frozen, dry rose color. There were some scratches on his waist, ice almost everywhere, and a kind of hole in his chassis. It was as if it had been forced open; it didn't hurt, but there was a feeling of emptiness, as if something was missing.

 

He couldn't help but notice that something else was wrong; as he examined more of his body, almost buried in the snow, he saw that... a leg was missing? Well, that explains—

 

"HURRY UP, YOU IDIOTS! CAN'T YOU SEE IT'S COLD OUT HERE?!"

 

A shrill voice can be heard from afar, demonstrating a wild dissatisfaction.

 

As if something had activated inside him, he forced himself to lie down quickly and remained hidden by the small mound of snow. He began to hear footsteps, which grew louder and heavier, sounding like a group of three or six bots.

 

"The sooner we find the remains of that piece of scrap, the sooner we can finally escape this corpse that our leader still calls a planet."

 

Behind the snowdrift, the young bot tried to look at these strangers who had just arrived, but the fog made it extremely difficult to see, especially since they were 5 meters away. But that wasn't all. He wanted to ask for help, and he knew that if he stayed still in this place he would end up dying, without a doubt, but something inside him was telling him to stay still.

 

And those voices seemed rather familiar to him...and not in a pleasant way. Something was wrong, very WRONG.

 

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High atop a communications tower on Iacon, Nightspin was searching for instruments that might allow him to repair a part of his ship—that is, that part and a few rare jewels framed in the gold walls.

 

She enters a large corridor, where there are framed pictures that tell stories of the "great" warriors of the past: The Primes. Hm, what nonsense.

 

During her passage through the area, of the gliders located in the palms of her hands and the soles of her heels, she only activated the one on her feet. She removed each precious stone that was stuck to the faces of the images; they attempted to represent their optics, which, in her opinion, made them quite gruesome.

 

"Honestly, those people had nothing better to do with their lives. Like, seriously? Who would leave those beauties locked up within these cold walls, huh..." the young woman whispered.

 

After the looting, she enters the communications booth. The abandoned place bore some marks of combat and dim lighting, thanks to the sun that still insisted on warming the planet, even if its effort was in vain. The place was bathed in gold; the central and side windows were made of dark glass, allowing only those inside the privilege of spying on the outside. The floor still had a golden presence, but there were some blocks of lapis lazuli that imitated a long carpet leading to a seat in the middle of the room, where the radio announcer sat and coordinated the broadcasts. From the morning news...to the events of the war.

 

Nightspin wasted no time and floated towards the central armchair; it was noticeable that some computers had been lost due to the extreme cold, but nothing of importance.

 

While searching, she found something interesting...it was a kind of molecular vibrator. "Booyah!" It was an important piece of a device she was creating; probably some unlucky warrior dropped it. Well, finders keepers.

 

Nightspin wastes no time and stores the device in her cabin, then returns to her important quest. During her mission, she thinks about what she will do once she manages to complete it and finally leave this planet. She has always dreamed of doing an exchange program in other Cybertronian colonies like Velocitron, Eukaris, and even Caminus... even though this one in particular is at the bottom of her list. It's not that she dislikes the place; she greatly admires the planet's beauty, especially its fashion and facial paintings. The only problem with that place was its ridiculous fanaticism for the Primes, whom they see as deities. Honestly, she can't understand it.

 

"A place with gigantic evolutionary potential thanks to its abundant reserves and varieties of Energon... but no, they prefer to leave that aside out of respect for order, ancestral traditions, and high-end drinks, ridiculous," he said while continuing his hunt, not realizing he was giving voice to one of his daydreams.

 

It was no coincidence that Velocitron was her favorite colony. Even to this day, she can't understand how her spark ended up on this scrap heap planet and not in a place where speed in all senses was the only law. I mean, wow! That place invented several energy sources that didn't depend on Energon just for racing, you know, RACING!!!

 

Perhaps it was a punishment Primus himself gave me for even considering doubting him before I even left the pit of sparks. Well, guess what, she still doubts him.

 

Nightspin sighs at a fact she'd rather not have to remember. As much as she'd love to travel to her dream colony, it seems they wouldn't be willing to open their doors to Cybertronians anyway. Not after the decree they issued during a horrific event that occurred during the war, in one of its darkest moments.

 

When the war was at its peak, there was a mandatory evacuation order because, according to some journalistic sources, Cybertron was definitively dead. After a specific confrontation between a clan of rebels called Autobots and the new order that ruled the world at that time, the Decepticons, they ended up triggering a cataclysmic event so devastating to the planet that it resulted in damage to its core. To prevent permanent damage, the planet entered a 'reboot' process, remaining in a state of hibernation with an indefinite end.

 

After the other colonies realized that this confrontation between the Autobots and Decepticons had become an alarming "threat," they decreed that no Transformer of Cybertronian origin could set foot on the soil of the other 12 colonies. The reason: the high risk of political propagation and publicity for both sides of the factions. They didn't want Cybertronians bringing the idea of ​​war to their attention, and as a solution, they kicked us out.

 

Sometimes... just sometimes, I find myself thinking about those who managed to evacuate in the Arks. How are they now? Did they find a new place? A safe place. I know I shouldn't worry so much about it, especially since they were luckier than me, but deep down, even though I hate to even consider it, I wonder about—

 

"HURRY UP, YOU IDIOTS! CAN'T YOU SEE IT'S COLD OUT HERE?!"

 

While she was deciding between talking to her processor and finding some device that would work, a shrill scream could be heard from below the building. The fright was so great it almost knocked her off the chair, pulling her from one of her reveries.

 

Nightspin went to the right side window to see what was happening on the old Iacon road, only to be met by the thick fog that covered everything. "Looks like tonight will be one of the coldest..." yet another reason for her to leave this planet, urgently.

 

Once again, she hears that voice. It was the most irritating and broken voice imaginable that dared to exist on this planet; apparently, this bot had never heard of voice box repair.

 

But this time, she hears a phrase that, thank heavens, she managed to hear despite this morally dubious voice. It was something about "finding" and "leaving." Well, she wasn't so keen on "finding," but "leaving"... sounded like a great plan.

 

To get a better idea of ​​what she might face, Nightspin places two fingers on the top of her round audio receiver in the right corner of her head and activates her visor, switching it to infrared mode to gain heat vision and locate the unfortunate souls who had the good fortune to cross her path.

 

“Hmm, it seems we have six bots present: three grounders, a strange spider, and two seekers. Looks like today is my lucky day.” A lopsided smile appeared on his scarlet lips, which quickly faded as he encountered another heat emission, but this one was different. It was weak, almost fading…dying.

 

“He…” Nightspin didn’t know what to do. On one hand, she could use her invisibility scanner device, pass by those six idiots to escape with their ship and live happily ever after, or she could play the heroine, save that poor, nearly dead bot, and they would possibly be executed or robbed by those strangers, and she would lose her passage to explore other worlds. It didn’t seem like a difficult decision.

 

But there was something nagging at her, something she couldn't explain. That bot lying in the snow, that heat loss didn't seem recent; upon closer analysis, it was noticeable that it was probably in a stasis lock as a last resort for bodily survival, but it seemed to have been of little use, judging by its clearly visible injuries.

 

She has to make a choice, and fast...

 

She looks at the fallen bot once more, with a dramatically tired grimace, but her eyes showed a blossoming determination. "Look, if every predicament I got myself into was worth a shanix, I'd definitely be living with the ancestors now." She sets off to rescue it.

 

Nightspin sneaked through the debris near the building until she reached the wounded bot, the fog aiding her stealth. During her journey, she tried to devise a plan so that the two could reach the strangers' ship in time and leave for anywhere in the galaxy.

 

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While the young bot was performing this stealthy action in the middle of the snow-covered street, the six bots present patrolled with heavy, slow steps due to the ice that was beginning to form on their joints. The seeker, which seemed to be of a larger stature and appeared to have three color schemes on its body, walked a little further ahead with a slight frown on its face.

 

“Can you believe it?! Eight stellar cycles of hard work on that disgusting organic planet and for what? So that it simply comes out of recharge and decides that ONLY NOW, we should check if this scum of a planet is really dead?! Ridiculous!” the seeker’s shrill voice began to annoy one of his companions.

 

Another seeker, who appeared to be the same height as the other but whose body was purple and black, covered his audio receivers as if his life depended on it. "Ugh, why did I have to agree to come to this junkyard? Thundercracker, you'll pay for this!" he lamented to himself.

 

The seeker teleports to its commander and attempts to present him with another perspective.

 

“Seriously, Starscream, try to think about it from a less messed up perspective. It’s much more likely that what we’re looking for is at least functional, and if Lord Megatron is right, we can finally get out of that mud ball infested with disgusting and vile organic matter.” He stops walking and does a full spin with his arms outstretched, further validating his argument. “No offense, Blackarachnia.”

 

“Hmph,” grumbled the spider. “I have to agree with the weirdo. The sooner we find that remnant of life on Cybertron that Megatron dreams of, the sooner I’ll finally be free of those gelatinous parasites.” There was a dark smile at the corner of the spider’s golden lips.

 

Her face and parts of her body and helmet were bathed in a sinister yellow, accompanied by a deep black. Unlike her comrades, her optics were a deep black, giving her an elegant, yet deadly, look. On her back were six long, sharp, golden legs, three on each side.

 

The two-colored jet grinned at the spider's opinion, "Ha! See? Even Blackarachnia agrees with me!" He pointed at her with one arm, then at himself with both arms theatrically, "And look, it's not every day that someone chooses to do this, and you know that very well, screamer!" He pointed at himself with his thumbs, his eyes wide in a way that hinted at his dramatic and exaggerated manner.

 

The Seeker leader steps back slightly from his fellow wingman's sudden, unnecessary approach. "Hmph. Yes, yes, I get your point, Skywarp," he retorts, "and stop calling me by that nickname!"

 

"You're the boss, screeeamer...~"

 

The other three robots were none other than servant-class warriors, vehicons. Those present had the function of doing the hard work, ordered by their superiors. It didn't matter who gave the order, even if it came from Skywarp.

 

The walk continues for a few more joors until they stop at a place known as Iacon Square. This was the location of the liquid energon spring that bathed and connected the cities of Cybertron, but what they saw was far from that. The place was completely dry; the only sight they had was the ice covering the metal at the bottom of the spring.

 

Starscream's face showed a bitterness that marked every line of his features. On one hand, he was glad he was right again, but on the other hand, he hated that he was right, of all times...

 

“HA!” he exclaimed proudly. “What did I tell you, huh? Oh, but of course, please keep your hopes up that this totally uninhabited planet, with an abundant shortage of energon and a core completely corrupted with the only poison Megatron was INSTRUCTED not to use, and yet he did, might one day come to life again. That's without even mentioning the temperature dropping with each cycle, but that's just the smallest detail, isn't it?!” The irony dripped from his mouth like a poison that had been stored for cycles; he only regretted that his leader wasn't here to hear it personally.

 

Skywarp stared disinterestedly at the depths of the spring; this whole trip was for nothing, not to mention the cold outside. But there was something more. Deep within him, a remorse seemed to grow with every millimeter. He missed Vos, he missed his home. He still dreamed of one day being able to perform maneuvers in the sky above his house, race in the illegal street races that occasionally migrated to his city, have fun at the trine gatherings that occurred at each solstice, or when he and his winged brothers shared some femmes in the oil dens at night. Ah, good times. At least he could vent his anger on organics and not get arrested; Earth has its advantages.

 

Blackarachnia wasn't paying much attention to that; her interest lay elsewhere: as she looked around, her scanners were detecting a small heat transmission near a communications tower on Iacon. "Interesting," she said loudly, "it seems I just detected a small heat emission coming from a tower near our ship. What do you think, Commander?" She glanced at Starscream, awaiting his orders.

 

The commander of the skies has a moment where he considers the possible conclusions to this problem: the first and most likely would be some kind of object or device that has been functional all this time, but which would soon give off its last sparks since its heat emission would be weak. The second would be a life form, which would be impossible since Cybertron wouldn't be suitable for the bots to come and live off what's left of it, not to mention that the planet was entirely evacuated. The third, well, a malfunction in Blackarachnia's scanners, since the cold is affecting the circuits a bit; he's grateful to what's left of Primus that the ship is resistant, or they would be completely screwed.

 

With both hands clasped behind his back and his body in an upright posture, Starscream gives the order without looking at the others. “Send the Vehicons to inspect the area, while we take a closer look at the spring. Any sign of increasing heat emission, contact us immediately.” Their optics remain focused on the deep trench, perhaps there is something he is not seeing, and he needs to go further.

 

That being said, the three Vehicons set off with their blasters already in hand towards the old Iacon communications tower, in accordance with their commander's orders.

 

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The blizzard worsened as night fell. The young bot, hidden in the small snowdrift, was in critical condition; its body, now a bluish color, shivered uncontrollably from the cold.

 

His vision was blurry, almost blocking his view of the horizon; there was no more leakage from his leg, as it had been completely frozen. It was only a matter of time before he reached a state of irreversible hypothermia where the Energon inside him would stop circulating.

 

He crawled through the snow until he reached a source of warmth emanating from one of the buildings across the street, but it seemed his efforts would be in vain. His joints were stiff due to the low temperature; he felt he didn't have much time left. But his body was far more stubborn than his internal processor.

 

With the last vestiges of strength he had in his arms, he unleashes a thrust that makes him leap a short distance... only to find himself in the middle of the street.

 

Lying face down on the snow, his arms thrown out in front of him, the young bot enjoys his last moment of rest, though he longed to depart in a more comfortable and warm place. Apparently, today was not his lucky day.

 

Or that's what he hoped it would be.

 

Before his vision failed him in the dense fog, he spotted someone. He wasn't quite sure if it was real or a hallucination of the already decaying body, but he swore that someone was walking in the snow toward him.

 

Delicate, warm fingers could be felt on his face, and a voice, a voice so...sweet. Was he really dying? Or was it just exhaustion? It didn't matter. Finally, that warmth had arrived, even if it was only a little. He had never been so happy to be warm.

 

“Rzzzzzk...thank...you” his optics shut down completely, conserving what remains of his energy to warm himself with this new heat source. He enters stasis temporarily, as his last resort for survival.

 

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"Arrrg! I really hope he's alive or I'll kill that corpse myself."

 

Nightspin was outside the building, wandering the street in search of the bot that needed (even though she didn't want to) her help. The sunset could be seen through the dense fog, pink and violet colors dominating the sky with its gray accent.

 

The wind was becoming increasingly violent, a signal to return to her hiding place immediately. Thanks to "Primus," her alternate mode allowed her to fly through the gusts of wind, and as a bonus, she managed to create a heater that adapts to the location. She's a genius.

 

Her steps grew heavier, her strength measured against the wind. In her hands, swords with pink plasma blades helped her steady herself on the snow as she advanced; her visor was still activated, allowing her to pick up any heat signature coming from the lost bot.

 

“Come on, come on,” she retorts. “You must be here somewhere. Please… don’t do this to me. Not now.”

 

Tunk! A loud noise could be heard in a corner to her left; it sounded like something light had fallen beside her. She should check it out.

 

Nightspin uses all the strength she has and heads towards the source of the noise. Upon arriving at the location, she tries to process what is in front of her, or rather, lying face down in the snow.

 

A bot of measured stature; if she could guess, she'd say its height almost reached her chassis. The snow and dirt obscured the colors of its metal; some parts were quite faded due to the moderate amount of rust present on its body. Its helmet seemed almost intact, which was a relief—meaning she wouldn't have problems with the bot or a processor malfunction. Its optics were...pleasant, even if they were dimly lit now. Its chassis was open, but it wasn't leaking internal Energon, which was good. Its body had probably been looted while it was inactive, poor thing.

 

Furthering her investigation, as she looked at the young bot from the waist down, she noticed...that he was missing a leg.

 

"Scrap!" she exclaims, surprised. "Looks like today wasn't your day, huh?"

 

Nightspin quickly kneels before the bot and grabs it from the waist up, making it lie in her lap. She gently grasps one side of its faceplate, which now rests on her shoulder, and begins to examine it, her fingers gently removing some snowflakes that had accumulated in its ear canal.

 

There was no damage to his CPU, a slight relief she allowed herself to enjoy, but the rest of his body was a potential problem. She urgently needed to get him to her hideout and patch him up with whatever she could find. Especially that leg.

 

“I need to get you out of here…” she muttered, not noticing that she had given voice to her own thought. “Hey, if you can hear me, hold on tight, okay? Your help has arrived.” She spoke, holding him gently in her arms.

 

The heat emanating from young Femme's body reached the circuits of the wounded bot. It served as a comforting blanket.

 

As she was ready to stand up with him, she felt him stir slightly, as if carefully searching for a horizon, or perhaps, her face.

 

Nightspin waits cautiously, observing what this wounded being has to do. He leaves the comfort of her shoulder, hanging his head near her chassis, where her spark would be located.

 

The fembot looked at him with a kind of curiosity. Even in this extreme cold, the stranger still demonstrated what seemed to be a willpower, something to envy. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could be useful to her. Interesting.

 

The stranger fixed his weak gaze on the savior; he seemed to want to memorize her facial features, but his vision was too blurry, making the task impossible.

 

His lips moved, and a voice was heard. It was so faint that if you didn't pay close attention, you wouldn't be able to understand it.

 

“Rzzzzzk...thank...you.” You could see the specter of a smile on the stranger's face before he switched off his glasses.

 

“Hey, HEY!!!?” Nightspin lightly tapped the mech in her arms against the face, a look of surprise and doubt etched on her face. She tried to get its attention, but to no avail. Looking through her visor, she noticed that there were still sparks; it had only entered a temporary stasis. That was good… but it meant he didn’t have much time. They need to get out of here.

 

Deactivating his two swords and storing them in their compartment, Nightspin prepared to carry the bot in his arms. But before he could take his first steps, the sounds of engines could be heard in the distance. It seems they have company.

 

Looking through her visor, she detected three ground vehicles approaching the location. Violet motorcycles that, judging by their design, were not well suited for extremely cold terrain.

 

Based on his investigation while observing the building and his obvious deduction, those approaching appeared to be the bodyguards of the other three. It seems the others had sent their servants to search the area.

 

Nightspin couldn't fight. As much as she loved a good three-on-one fight, having an injured person in her presence would make him an easy distraction, and possibly a hostage.

 

She needed to think fast, before it was too late.

 

As she hurriedly looked around, she noticed that atop one of the buildings, there was a huge piece of metal half-loose on the roof; it was perfect.

 

Raising his right arm, which activates a kind of four-pronged blue plasma hook, he fires it until it reaches the metal shard and attaches itself there. Until the right moment arrives to pull it out.

 

“Arrg. Don’t bother moving, sweetie. Your savior has everything under control.” The only response she got from the stranger on her arm was a slight grumble.

 

The roar of the motorcycle engines grew louder with each passing minute. Nightspin remained kneeling in the middle of the street, her right arm outstretched, ready to pull her trap, the other holding the bot protectively close to its chassis. Behind her visor, her optics stared intently at the silhouettes of her opponents, waiting for the perfect moment...

 

Now, it was a matter of counting down.

 

"Five."

"Four..."

"Three..."

"Two..."

"One..."

 

Using every bit of power she could muster in her circuits, she pulls the current, and the sound of the metal completely detaching from the building's ceiling can be heard.

 

At exactly 10 paces away, Nightspin could see the shadow of the metal approaching silently, until it fell on top of the three invaders. It all happened very quickly; before they could even transform, the only thing they felt was the impact of the metal shard on their heads. If they were lucky, they died before they felt crushed.

 

"Well... that was a close one." Spin looked at his makeshift work and admitted that he hadn't quite calculated the distance and fall of the object. One wrong step and that thing would have crushed them all.

 

Now that the problem had been solved, her attention returned to the stranger in her arms. Alive? Yes, for now. She needed to get him out of here NOW.

 

With a bit of effort, Nightspin manages to stand with the young man in her arms, holding him bridal-style. She takes a running start, only to throw him into the air.

 

She quickly transforms into her alternate mode, a black hoverbike with bio-light stripes in shades of cyan and pastel pink, two thrusters located at the back, and swords that resemble a bird's tail.

 

Immediately after this rapid transformation, the young man falls onto the black leather seat of the bike. Windows are activated along with a heater to keep her and her illustrious unconscious guest safe from the low temperature.

 

"Hold on tight, kid. Your life isn't going to end here, it's only just begun."

 

She accelerates, making her engines roar violently. She makes her way through the air, heading towards the heights in an attempt to defy the wind and gravity.

 

As she piloted, Nightspin could feel it in her spark. As much as she didn't like to think about it, deep down, she already knew...

 

This was far from over...

Chapter Text

In his deep sleep, a whisper could be heard in the darkness, a call. Perhaps it's just a dream, or just his subconscious playing tricks on him... but, by Primus, he doesn't want to think about anything else now... just this once, he wants to surrender. He desires this.

More than anything...

 

Hmmmmm~, Miser autobot. Mundus tibi non benignus est, nonne?

Noli soliciti esse, nam par tuus hic est ut te satisfaciat...

 

Gentle hands could be felt moving over Optimus's body, wandering slowly and softly across his chassis, playing with the glass of his windshield, a light stimulation.

 

The hands descended even further, wandering to his abdomen. The bot could feel them on his torso, rising and falling, as if in some kind of erotic dance. He couldn't take it anymore, and before he could even stop himself from acting, his mouth was open and small moans escaped into the darkness.

 

This time, the action was bolder. Claws could be felt scraping along the sides of his abdomen, fitting into some crevices that opened onto some rather sensitive internal wires.

 

The shock was moderate. Optimus, lying at the mercy of the darkness, arched his back and abdomen upwards, accompanied by a whiny and pathetic moan.

 

"Hmmmm, please," the poor Prime pleaded. It had been so long since someone had touched him like this, so many cycles...

 

Through the darkness, a voice could be heard. A dark, deep, and hoarse laugh.

 

Before the hands moved away from their victim, they traced a path from the front of his abdomen to the protective plate of his valve, where they made some soft circles with the tips of their fingers. Instantly, the place began to heat up. Optimus's cooling systems could be heard as they automatically switched on to perform their tasks.

 

Sighs of satisfaction escaped his mouth as he leaned into the touch of the entity, which unfortunately was moving away. He leaned towards the hands, intending to follow the sensation for a few more clicks. It worked, until he was interrupted by a firm pressure on his neck.

 

Fingers were wrapped around his throat, causing a slight pressure; consequently, his Energon lines were being prevented from transporting the necessary nutrients to his neural processor.

 

Dizziness began to appear, but incredibly, it wasn't in a negative way, quite the opposite. It was an addictive burning sensation, something he had never felt before. His helmet began to feel light, a drowsiness that grew stronger, not only that, but his excitement was amplified twofold.

 

Another hand passed over his helmet. His fingers gently traced his right cheek, the path leading to his chin, which was lifted, revealing emptiness. Something that seemed to be a thumb met his victim's lips, causing them to part slightly.

 

On impulse, Optimus, held captive by the darkness, made a rather bold move, placing the tip of his lip gloss on the thumb that was on his lips. The entity gave its second laugh, now more joyful than ever because of this unexpected action, and readily accepted the offer.

 

The thumb opened Prime's mouth even wider, ordering him to give more space. Like a good partner, he opened more than he should and threw the lip gloss out, like an obscene invitation.

 

The thumb made its way into the poor bot's mouth, which instantly closed around it. "Hmmm...", Optimus began to suck it shamelessly, depraved sounds being made during the action. Her tongue began to savor it in every way, she caressed the sides with long, sticky licks of saliva, then focused on the underside, slowly but with a certain pressure. It tasted so strange, but it was sweet, very sweet, quite different from the normal taste of Energon, but...so addictive.

 

After a long session of licking the entire thumb, Prime removed it from her mouth, keeping only a small part. Delicate kisses were given to the top of the thumb, accompanied by small sucks as a gesture of provocation.

 

The entity was pleased with the gift and understood that it could now remove the thumb, only to have it devoured in one go. Optimus, who was at the mercy of the darkness, desperately put it in his mouth and began to suck it as if there were no tomorrow, abrupt back-and-forth movements applied along with strong, wet licks. No side of the thumb was left dry; he had no preference for a favorite spot to stimulate more, all would receive their due treatment. He dared to think that he would give a superior treatment to any VIP.

 

The poor leader began to remember his time in the mines. The times when he and his friend arrived tired at their dormitories after a long shift digging and sometimes being humiliated by some guard, who reminded them of the insignificance of having been born without a cog. One day, he himself had gone out to Iacon at night, and during these visits, he learned something wonderful. He remembers when he gave D-16 an idea of ​​how they could relax after their shift; of course, his friend was confused and thought it was just another one of his outlandish ideas to get into trouble. Ah, but he was wrong, very wrong. He still remembers the face Dee made when he played with him, when he started working mercilessly on his stick, his eyes never stopping staring at him. The delicious sounds Dee tried to suppress at all costs, otherwise some other miner might catch them committing such a libidinous act. He'd like to say Dee was the only one, but Primus knows there were many, especially since before testing it on Dee, he needed to make sure he was good at it... and among other things, just to be safe.

 

He never forgot the time he met Doubledealer, a well-known mercenary, at Maccdam's bar... now that was a bot with a respectable stick. Not to mention that miraculous gloss...

 

He never had the chance to learn other things, not after the war. After his falling out with D-16, being consecrated with the leadership matrix, and some other political factors that ended up causing the Cybertronian civil war, he never again tasted the freedom he once had, even when he was working in the mines. A bit ironic, don't you think?

 

Duty always called him, no matter when or how; everyone saw him as an example, and not only that, but they also demanded it of him. Even at the beginning of his life as a Prime, he tried to get some enjoyment out of life: he went to the nightclubs he used to frequent, to parties in some abandoned mines looking for fun, and sometimes, a bunkmate. However, all good things were short-lived. Rumors began to spread through the capital with his name, a Prime, the one with the highest rank, the one chosen by Primus, going to illegal and clandestine places. Let's just say that wasn't very well received by some Cybertronians. Many associated him with being the "next Sentinel" and joined Megatron because of it; others didn't believe this story and claimed it was slander spread by the Decepticons.

 

Elita had discovered the truth and demanded an explanation from Prime; he could no longer be the young and reckless Orion he once was. Orion Pax was dead, along with D-16. End of story.

 

Of course, he knew this; he understood that he couldn't do what he used to, but was it so wrong to be able to live a little longer? He missed having fun in the neighborhood, jumping between buildings, running from guards, surrendering to the first bot that paid him a high price. But of course, all that was in the past, along with his old name and body; the present came with a new name: Optimus Prime. But, Oh! How he would give anything to be Orion again, just once...

 

Of course, during all that scandal, the matter obviously made its way to the surface in Kaon, the capital city of the Decepticons... to Megatron. During his battles against his former friend's rival group, Megatron whispered cruel insults and mocked the past through his audio receivers. "You never change, do you?" How could he? "Well, well! The great prime, the one chosen by Primus, is nothing but a cheap prostitute!?" How dare he!? "You may have fooled everyone, but not me, 'Orion'. You're nothing but a petty egoist. You never cared about anything but yourself; it's only a matter of time before everyone sees who you really are." After all, they were gone, simply discarded and thrown away for nothing.

 

He knew he shouldn't care about those words, but deep down, it hurt. It hurt a lot. He wanted to say he didn't care about Megatron, about Dee—No! D-16 is dead, Megatron guaranteed it, Megatron was living proof that there was no return for the one who was once his...friend. That's it! Just friends...

 

Optimus's thoughts were interrupted by a deep, seductive voice. The sound coming from his voice box was in a language he couldn't understand, but from the tone, he was a little annoyed.

 

Numquam amicus tuus fuit, mi Optimus care, numquam!

Obliviscere eum nunc, aut praemium tuum non accipies~

 

The pressure on his neck increased a little more, but enough to make him dizzy. He understood that this was a warning for daring to think about something else, rather than focusing on what he was doing now.

 

Optimus moaned softly. An apology for having thought about this thing right now, he promises to reward you for it.

 

After pulling himself out of these reveries, Prime's mouth was restless. He fervently sucked on the entity's thumb, his tongue not resting even for a click, it spun and spun around, leaving it well lubricated to the point where saliva began to leak from his mouth.

 

While doing this, he could only think about what could really be in his mouth, occupying the place of the thick thumb. Just imagining the size of 'that thing' made his thighs clench. The lubricant had already overflowed from its valve, not even the protective plate could hold it back, his stick was already starting to bother him, it had already pressurized and was begging to come out of its hiding place.

 

Just thinking about what that possible 'thing' hid behind the genital panel of that being made him delirious with anxiety. What would the size be? The thickness? Would it have bio-lights? Did it ripple automatically? Would it fit?...did he have more than one...

 

The questions invaded his processor in a sinful way; just imagining what that delicious stick would be like made him extract another lascivious moan from his voice box. “Hmmmmmmm...~” the thoughts fueled his work; he worked the finger in his mouth tirelessly, the moans accompanying it. The more he worked, the tighter his valve became. He couldn't take this torture anymore; it felt like he was going to short-circuit. He needed more; the cold of his empty valve bothered him unimaginably. He was so alone; he needed more, he desired more, he WANTED more.

 

‘Please,’ he thought, ‘I need more.’ The pain was so great; it felt like he would be torn apart from the inside out by this hunger that never went away, but he wouldn't care, no, he would crave it. Only in this way could he quench this infinite thirst. ‘Please, please, please, PLEASE, PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! I NEED MORE, I WANT MORE!! PLEASE!! PLEASE!! FRAG~!!!’

 

His legs writhed in pain and pleasure, he could feel his walls contracting even though they were empty, with nothing to grasp and squeeze. He was close, VERY CLOSE. His mouth movements reached a form that resembled a plea. Forward, backward, forward, backward. Successively. He removed his thumb from his mouth for a few clicks, only to kiss and lick its sides, soft moans emitted in warning. He was coming, he felt it.

 

He brought his thumb back into his mouth with a speed that would make anyone envious, the back-and-forth movements becoming more aggressive along with the massage his thighs were applying, resulting in stimulation of his clitoris, which was so swollen he could feel it throbbing intensely. The friction was unbearably hot, the back-and-forth movements in his mouth increasing more and more, and more, more, MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE!!!!

 

In his last stroke with the thumb that was almost out of his mouth, he swallowed it whole and enjoyed the sudden surge of pleasure. A long, loud moan escaped his lips, which were smeared with so much saliva that had leaked out. His thighs trembled incessantly and the tips of his toes stretched as if trying to find some kind of outlet for the electricity that no longer knew where to spread through his body. In his pelvic armor, he felt the fluid from the overload leaking from the corners; there was so much of it, it had been so long since he had overloaded like this.

 

The entity slowly removed its thumb from Optimus's mouth, which caused a loud "POP" sound as Optimus was still stuck sucking the thumb too hard and didn't want to let go, leaving it near the entrance of his lips, a strand of saliva still connecting them. The Prime stretched his face as much as he could, since his other hand was still on his neck, and rested his cheek on the thumb he had carefully tended to. His eyelids were so tired from the overload he had witnessed that he could barely keep them open, but he could swear he saw a slight smile in the darkness. The thumb slowly moved away from Optimus's cheek and before it left its point of movement, he gave a light farewell kiss to its tip. The hand moved away and returned to the darkness, but only for a short time.

 

A noise could be heard in the darkness, while Optimus recovered from the post-overload discharge of his body; a noise could be heard above him. He tried to strain his weak vision, and the more he tried to focus, the more anxious he became. It could be a flaw in his optics, or fatigue playing tricks on him, but he could swear there was a face looking down at him. The owner of the shadowy hands seemed to be licking the thumb he had worked on with such care. Witnessing this sight, he squeezed his thighs once more, his excitement slowly returning.

 

Before Optimus could think of saying anything, he felt a somewhat oppressive pressure on his neck, forcing his head to look even higher, taking the entity out of his field of vision. Any chance of seeing the one above him giving him pleasure was now nil.

 

"hzzzzzzk" static could be heard due to the great pressure. He tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was gasping from his mouth. Trying to catch his breath.

 

Optimus could feel a presence drawing ever closer to his body. He tried in every way to turn his gaze towards the subject, but the action was in vain.

 

He was startled by the mysterious being's next action. A gloss could be felt on his body, wandering across his chassis, tracing an unknown path.

 

Prime's body began to tremble. The sticky sensation on his chest was so delicious; it traveled aimlessly, simply being there. A beautiful provocation that was very welcome.

 

But what had seemed like a mere playful game ended up taking a rather peculiar turn.

 

Before the gloss began its journey, open, wet kisses were applied to his chest. A brief farewell, but with a promise of return.

 

The gloss traveled slowly down to his abdomen; the entity wanted to prolong this act as much as possible. With every inch she walked, a slow kiss was left on the spot, accompanied by whispers of a native language Optimus didn't recognize, but couldn't deny was very sexy.

 

The feeling was surreal; it wasn't like any other sexual encounter, it was adoration.

 

“Incredibile” kiss! “simpliciter incredibile” another kiss!

The gloss continued its journey further down. The entity continued uttering its words, now with a heavier tone. It was as if it were a prayer.

“Corpus tuum” stronger... “corpus meum” deeper... “corpus NOSTRUM” almost there...“tam similia sunt” yesss...“In lineamentis, curvis, reactionibus, desideriis, dolore...in VOLUPTATE~”RIGHT THERE!!!!

 

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Sharp teeth sank into Optimus's abdomen, a bite so devastating that it tore away half of his metal... was this supposed to happen? Why was this happening? Why?

 

Optimus's body was paralyzed. He felt the teeth sink even deeper into him, piercing everything they encountered. They were like blades that had just been sharpened.

 

His eyes, previously relaxed with the sensation of pleasure, were now wide with shock. His body was paralyzed; he couldn't think, couldn't even process what had just happened.

 

But that wasn't what scared him, no, it was something worse, much, MUCH worse. He didn't feel pain, quite the opposite...it was pleasure. He felt pleasure from it.

 

The way those teeth didn't waste anyone's time and vigorously crushed his organs, leaving nothing behind. The way it drank his internal Energon without letting a single drop escape, as if quenching a thirst that had haunted him for so long. The moans and sighs of satisfaction at the delicious meal that being was having without wasting anything. For that thing, waste would be an act of sin without any trace of forgiveness.

 

All of this, all this horror, was exciting Prime even more. He wanted to feel disgusted by it, but he couldn't, why...?

 

The terror etched on the choked bot's face gave way to shock after committing something he couldn't stop in time. A grotesque cry of pleasure escaped his lips, tears welling up and streaming from his eyes. A mixture of regret and euphoria.

 

Pain mingled with pleasure. A profane symbiosis that spread like wildfire, burning in every corner it grew in; any sign of purity that might appear in its path was quickly consumed, leaving an incurable burning behind. The entity continued to attack its prey mercilessly, but he knew that his victim was enjoying it more than he was. He could feel it; their connection was greater than anything they could imagine.

 

The more Optimus screamed, the more the entity attacked him. Both were taking pleasure in it; the screams were the confirmation the darkness needed to continue its profane feast.

 

Optimus felt impure. His body, impulsively, leaned further upward in utter desperation, trying to feed this monster. The more that thing fed on him, the more pleasure he received in return. Doubts had a chance and began to surface in his mind. “This wasn’t right, no, this couldn’t be. Why? A Prime shouldn’t feel this, something so disgusting, this can’t be happening. It wasn’t him who was feeling this way, it was Orion, it was him who liked it, it’s HIM who is ENJOYING all of this. Of course! Only he could open this mind to these profane, uncertain…intense…succulent acts.”

 

“Frag!” he corrected himself in alertness. This had to end, now!

 

As if sensing that his thoughts had been heard, the entity finally removed one of its hands from Prime’s neck. It was a huge relief for Optimus; now that his voice box was free, he could give the order.

 

He gasped desperately, trying to suck in as much air as possible to cool his muscles. He tried in every way to calm the burning sensation that had covered his body. After a long time, he felt that the tearing had also ceased and he was preparing to get up.

 

His arms were released by shadow tentacles, which retreated deeper into the darkness, blending into the onyx-drenched surroundings.

 

“My arms were bound this whole time? How come I didn’t notice this before?!” The surprise surfaced in a thought as he began to stare at his wrists, searching for any sign of a mark.

 

As soon as he was freed from his bonds, he braced himself on his elbows and forced himself to sit up. The moment he finished, his helmet flew towards his lacerated abdomen. A huge hole was made in the hole, some remnants of Energon escaping from the edges. His entrails could be seen all mixed together, some already eaten.

 

The more he tried to process what he was seeing, the faster the beating of his spark became.

 

A laugh could be heard, for the third time. Somewhat provocative, but cheerful. Optimus snapped out of his reverie and mustered the courage to look at what was before him. He closed his lenses and slowly tilted his helmet upwards. Once he reached the desired angle, he slowly opened his lenses and came face to face... with himself. Literally.

 

What was before him left him in complete shock and terror. It was himself, simply himself, a distorted and macabre version of himself touching him.

 

His other 'self' was somewhat "different." In fact, they had the same face and helmet, the body and even the body mass were identical, but their lenses and colors gave them a somewhat exotic individuality. The predominant color on his body and helmet was a deep obsidian black. His air intakes, located on his legs and helmet, the glass of his windshield on his chassis, and his exhaust pipes, both on his forearms, were a dark green color, resembling the precious stone humans call emerald. The only light colors on his body were a gray that bathed his thighs, hips, pelvic protector plate, the air intakes in the middle of his abdomen, and his face.

 

His face was what frightened Optimus the most, not only because of the resemblance, but because of its appearance. The metal of his face was so...perfect, if he could say so. It had no scars, wrinkles, or any sign of wear; it was so well cared for that it looked new. So...young. His lips had no scars, nor were they cracked; the metal seemed soft just to look at, but there was something more. On his cheeks, there was a kind of line that connected between his lips to the sides of his helmet. What would they be?

 

Before he could think of any more questions, Optimus noticed he was focusing too much on the stranger's lips, which the stranger had also noticed. The shadowy counterpart had raised one of his optics, along with his lip, as a form of provocation. The Prime cleared his throat softly and returned to analyzing him.

 

His optics had a rather peculiar color; there was no hatred in them, no, it was a light purple, a lilac. But it was something to worry about.

 

There were various superstitions about the optics and their colors among Cybertronians: the calmness of blue, the envy of green, the cowardice of yellow, the aridity of orange, or the wrath of red. However, many fear a single color, so much so that they fear it more than red: Purple.

 

The color purple lives between the wrath of red and the coldness of blue. It feels nothing, and at the same time, it feels everything. A color of arrogance, power...and lust.

 

Optimus never liked this myth. To base the future actions of his loved ones on their perspectives was somewhat offensive. Had there been many coincidences in his life regarding this? Yes. But not to the point of starting to believe in such nonsense.

 

...well, perhaps until now.

 

Optimus could see in his counterpart's perspective, or rather, he could feel it, even from afar if he could, the pleasure she was taking in seeing him with this fear, this doubt, this...curiosity.

 

His distorted version also observed him, analyzing his face and body entirely. The heat radiating from Optimus's chassis was very different from his own, which was cold and opaque. 'If only he were alive again,' he thought. Optimus's vibrant colors caught his attention; they were so bright, yet so...irritating. He would do anything to extinguish them, just like his own. His gaze returned to the face of his "cheerful" version; his blue helmet was so gleaming, but with some scratches and remnants of blaster fire. The marks of war. His antennae were almost broken; you could see they were welded together because of the molten metal look—a rather shoddy job, if we can say so.

 

His face, yes, his face. So beautiful, but so tired. The wrinkles on Prime's forehead could be seen as he kept his face furrowed, the scar on his mouth, a diagonal angled cut located on the left side that ran from the top of his lip to the bottom. 'It even gave it a certain charm,' he admitted. But what caught his attention was higher up.

 

His eyes—Oh, for Unicron's sake! They were so cute. The innocence etched on them, along with the round shape of his iris and pupil, made them very reminiscent of a sapphire, a precious stone that could be found on the surface of his master. He could see the fear in them right now, but there was something more, doubt it? Perhaps, or was it...curiosity?

 

A sly smile grew on the face of the shadowy counterpart. His violet eyes became a strong shade and closed slightly, but his attention remained on the one in front of him, only now, with much more malice. A thought came to him, an idea. 'Heheh... This is getting quite interesting.'

 

Optimus was pulled from his reverie when he felt pressure on his body. His counterpart was crawling over his body, passing over his legs until reaching his hip, where he sat down.

 

Now they were face to face, accompanied by a deafening silence that could be heard from afar. Optimus couldn't stand the mystery any longer and dared to break the silence.

 

“H-how is this possible?” he began. His tone betrayed a slight anxiety he tried to disguise, “how can you be like—”

 

“Me?” The counterpart finished, with a slight touch of irony. She gave a slight snort of laughter and brought her face closer to Optimus's, their lips almost touching. So close, yet so far. “Isn't that kind of obvious, sweetie? It's because I…am you, duh!” The counterpart gave Optimus a light, surprised pinch on the waist, which made him jump in surprise and move away slightly from the other face after this revelation. A lighthearted joke to break the ice in this whole situation.

 

Optimus's face looked somewhat confused. How could they both be the same bot? Was that even possible?

 

Well, he'd heard of sparks that were born as one and then separated during the process, inhabiting different bodies, yet still linked by a bond—the spark siblings. But this was a completely different situation; they were literally identical, frag! Even their voices were the same.

 

Doubt brought a thought to the surface. 'It must be some kind of trick, it has to be.' His facial expression soured slightly along with discomfort; it must be someone who had hacked into his neuroprocessor and taken advantage of it all. He wasn't liking this tasteless joke at all.

 

The counterpart could sense from Optimus's aura that he didn't believe his word. A sigh of boredom escaped his mouth along with a puff of smoke, and he saw that he had a lot of work ahead of him, that is, if he wanted to continue where they had left off.

 

An idea came to his mind. A somewhat dangerous one, but he knew how to circumvent these chances.

 

Without any warning, the "copy" of Optimus knocks him to the ground with only one hand on his chassis, allowing himself to sit on top of him, positioned directly above the hole he had made in his abdomen. He stares at him for a few clicks, appreciating him in that position. Optimus stared back with a raised gaze and a genuine expression of doubt. A thought came to mind: "What was he plotting?"

 

Soon the counterpart got up from that position and allowed himself to lie down on Optimus's left side. His hand moved to Prime's hip and pulled him towards him, causing him to lie in a position that made him look back at him. Now, all attention was on him.

 

Some of Optimus's entrails spilled out of his body and a pool of internal Energon formed between the two.

 

The Energon-stained hand that was on Optimus's hip began to gently massage the area, moving from the hip to the thigh, as if asking for trust and tranquility. A stain of pink blood was left in this caressing gesture. “I know it’s asking a lot,” he began. His violet optics slowly glowed a dark color, his gaze never straying from Prime. “But to prove my truth, I need you to open up to me.”

 

Optimus was stunned by this request; that…thing wanted him to unleash his spark, but…he wanted to prove his word, he wanted to prove his honesty. It terrified him.

 

If it were a lie, it would mean that someone from the outside had taken advantage of his memories and played with his deepest feelings. Maybe it was a Decepticon attack, one of Shockwave’s evil inventions, or maybe it was Megatron playing a trick on him…again.

 

But, if it were true—

 

A sigh of irritation can be heard. “You’ll only discover what you truly feel if you open up, Optimus.” The counterpart used its hand, which was on Optimus’s hip, and roughly brought them together. Their chassis touched in a way that seemed as if they would soon fuse. The counterpart made its way to Prime's chest. The hand had detached itself from his hips, but the fingers traced a path along the side of his abdomen, a delicate touch, like the feather of a plume, yet one that sent shivers and spasms through the Autobot leader's body. A faint trail of Energon was left behind.

 

As soon as the hand reached its destination, it wandered to the center of the chassis, right where the Prime spark was hidden. It was where the mark was where he had kissed her a few hours ago; he had promised he would return to her, and here we are.

 

With a slight tightening of his resolve, Optimus opens his chassis and reveals his spark. Above it, the Matrix of Leadership was visible, its glow resembling a quasar. The shadowy counterpart noticed the presence of the matrix, which seemed to reject him in every way. “Heh,” he laughs mockingly and ignores it. That wasn't what he wanted, no, that thing only serves to chain anyone who wears it. His prize was below it.

 

After admiring his prize, Optimus's counterpart opens his chassis and reveals his own spark, but it was somewhat...different. Unlike the simple blue plasma everyone else had, his was a deep purple with an enveloping lilac glow, and its texture was almost a melting solid. It reminded him a lot of a black hole, ready to devour the light in its path.

 

Tendrils sprouted from both sparks; they could sense each other's presence calling. A fusion that, once made, could not be destroyed. Optimus was uncertain if this was a good idea, opening his spark to a stranger who had invaded his subconscious while he was recharging. As if reading his thoughts, his counterpart pressed the front of his helmet against Optimus's, a kind of comfort for what was to come.

 

The connection was finally made. Electricity coursed through both bodies, navigating the system, tracing its main path to the CPUs of both bots. Prime felt his vision blur, a feeling of exhaustion invaded his body like a blanket being gently placed over him. He tries to force himself to stay awake, pressing his eyelids shut, but the gesture is in vain.

 

In a comforting gesture, the counterpart runs a hand across the sleepy prime's face. He was trying to calm him for the next phase that was to come, a very dangerous one: Nostalgia. Something he learned to leave behind...no, that he abandoned.

 

It will be there where the magic will happen, where they will be able to see their memories, their pasts, their pains, their truths.

 

As soon as Optimus fell asleep, a sinister smile formed on his counterpart's face before he too fell asleep. A thought came to mind.
"Hmmmmm. This is going to be so much fun."