Title: Movieverse Drabbles

Title: Drabbles
Author: dreamerchaos
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.
Rating: G all the way to Mature.
Summary: Short drabbles ranging from G to Mature. Be warned. Slash between two mechs (Maybe even three mechs). Takes place in various universes. None of these drabbles are are meant to be in consecutive order.

Optimus Prime and Megatron - 2009 Universe

Perceptor and Starscream – 2007 Universe

Soundwave and Red Alert – 2009 Universe



Optimus Prime and Megatron - 2009 Universe

Such devotion to protect the organic insect.

Megatron snarls, clenching his curled talons across Optimus’ shoulder. Thrusting the bladed axe of his forearm through the Prime’s back, and punching through his chest.

Optimus Prime gasps, helm arching, hands scrabbling at the looped, thick arm across his chassis. Binding his brother against his back strut.

“Why him?” Megatron demands, snarling the hissed words into Optimus’ audios. Thrusting the blade in deeper, earning a sharp, static cry of agony. “What makes this boy worth protecting?”

“Gggggkk-” Optimus gurgles, energon bubbling between silver lips. Not too far away, Sam screams in horror and agony as Megatron’s blade pierces the grand, tall figure of the Prime, the young human screaming “Optimus!!”

“S-Saaaamm..” Optimus’ knees and joints collapse, only Megatron’s curled grip keeping him upright.

Megatron glares hatefully in the direction of the tiny human. Whispering into the Prime’s audio, “I would have carved a throne for you. Rebuilt an empire at your feet,” He snarls, clinging to his brother, wincing at the weak cry that his blade induces as it drags along sheared internal components, “but still you look to the boy. Never looking once at me!”

He can sense when Optimus’ systems begin to shut down, beginning to immediately lock down into emergency stasis. His brother’s form slackening against his chassis.

“I won’t share you with him, my brother.” Megatron now releases the Prime, ripping the blade free. Watch the slow descent as Optimus collapses to his knees, slowly, inescapably falling onto his side, optics a dull pinprick of a star.

“I’ll send you to the Matrix before I let an insect claim your devotion.”

Perceptor and Starscream – 2007 Universe
(based off of my 2007 Starscream/Perceptor fic ‘All Hail Starscream’)


“Perceptor? The Seeker’s beckon rings throughout the crystal garden. “Where are you, my Pet?”

Perceptor’s helm twitches, turning in the direction of the Seeker’s summons. Revealing his position tucked within the maze of crystal structures and spires, his seat nestled between one of the taller pairs of crystal towers tucked within the private garden.

“Ahh...There you are.” Starscream steps around a cluster of pale silver, humming levitated crystals; the Seeker smiling toothily when Perceptor hops onto his pedes, stepping forward to greet his master.

“Starscream…” Perceptor’s optics flicker in deference and a thrill of pleasure as he slides his hands up the mech’s forearm and wrist when the new Decepticon Lord slips an arm forward, brushing the smooth bump of his knuckle joints across Perceptor’s cheek and jaw, tracing down his throat, affectionately purring and nuzzling the smaller mech when he bent down closer to the microscope.

“I have a present for you.” Starscream reaches for his subspace compartment with his other hand, managing to tug Perceptor closer, pressing the mech against his frame while he rummages for the trinket he wishes to bestow upon his pet.

“…A gift?” Perceptor tilts his head, shyly watching as the Seeker releases a sound of confirmation when he discovers his tucked away prize, tugging it from subspace.

Perceptor chirps with surprise, catching himself before he reaches for the shiny, silver bracelet of etched glyphs and polished ivory bands. The glittering band of flowing metal ensnaring him, the smaller mech enraptured by such a rare piece of craftwork, all but disappeared when the war had broken out.

Starscream chuckles, approving of his pet’s interest. Teasing the mech by holding the gift just beyond Perceptor’s reach, his pet’s hands clenching and unclenching helplessly at his sides, “I alluded to how pleasant a collar would look upon you, but instead I decided that this would appeal to me much more.” He tilts the bracelet between two clawed fingertips, allowing the high sun overhead to wax a wash of gold across the silver metal.

Perceptor trembled with awed reverence as the Seeker took his hand, bowing over the microscope’s wrist, unlatching the bracelet to slide it over Perceptor’s thinner appendage, deftly snapping the bracelet upon the smaller cobalt and red wrist.

His hand still curled within Starscream’s hand, Perceptor marveled at the gleam of silver, the glyphs glittering against the waxed paintwork of his wrist and forearm. The microscope still too stunned to voice his amazement at his master’s audaciousness and want to reconfirm Perceptor as his own. Affirming their bond as more than simply master and servant, marking them as much as equals as one could hope to be when bound to a Decepticon owner.

“Perfection…” Starscream’s lips twitch into a snarl of a smile, grinning leer marking his pleasure. He curls around his pet, concealing him from sight within his embrace, butting his mouth against Perceptor’s, “This pleases me.” He can’t stop himself from touching and caressing the bracelet, as if to check and ascertain that it still remains, tracing the glyphs of his designation and Perceptor’s woven throughout the length of the silver band.

“…thank you, Starscream.” Perceptor sighs into the next kiss that Starscream presses to his forehead. The microscope still growing accustomed to his position as the Decepticon Lord’s one and favored pet. But he is finding that the frequent gestures that his master endeavors to press upon him, the measures to reaffirm their bond, is strangely satisfying and accomplishes much in slowly relieving the microscope of his trace amounts of regret for his captivity.

He hopes to remember this flicker of contentment the next time he must witness another caravan of prisoners being dragged onto the auction block while the Decepticon Lord and his small party of confidants look on from their raised dais, Starscream perched upon his throne, a taloned hand idly tracing and massaging his pet’s shivering back, Perceptor curled against his Lord’s chassis, trying to stifle the input from his sensitive audios from the roar of laughter and taunts from the assembly of soldiers and officers while the prisoners far below them scream and curse the Decepticon crowd heckling prices over the newest prisoners.

Soundwave and Red Alert – 2009 Universe
(I’m basing Soundwave’s appearance off the images from the comics for this drabble)

“-mmmmhhh…” Red Alert’s neck could barely hold his helm straight and upright, his chin lolling across his chest and shoulder.

Strong hands grasp his helm, coaxing the mech to twist his expression upward.

“Look at me.”

“N-noooo..”

Soundwave’s ruby visor flickers, narrowing in disapproval. Sliding closer, he ignores Red Alert’s wince and spasm as their chassis’ bump, the intimate contact cancelled by the slithering, silver hiss of Soundwave’s tentacles snaking throughout his chassis and up and down his limbs.

Red Alert’s vents heave with exertion, helm falling back. Wincing as Soundwave tucks his chin against the Autobot’s throat, the Decepticon snarling underneath the breath of his vents, twisting his arms around the leaner white and red painted prisoner.

“Do not deny me.” The technopath whispers seductively, tempting the mech to surrender. Soundwave continuing to bombard Red Alert’s firewalls, lusting to crumble and rend the massive barrier apart.

No other mech has ever defied him so greatly. This Autobot’s security systems are beyond anything the technopath has encountered before ¯ even down to his rudimentary virus protection systems and basic firewalls ¯ the most immovable opponent he has ever had to deal with, next to that persistent thorn in his side, the Autobot known as Blaster.

The back of Red Alert’s head cracks against the filthy wall of the cell, the Autobot flailing as once again Soundwave’s uploaded viruses and stretching his roving tentacles further inward to brush against his internal systems, while the fresh upload of viruses continue to nip and wriggle away, gnawing with their little, biting fangs nipping and tearing at the seams of his firewalls.

Soundwave clings to his prey as the mech howls in agony, their chassis arching, smearing streaks of paint together, a clash of blue and red mixing to adorn streaks of purple across Red Alert’s white patches of paint.

‘Inferno…’ Red Alert’s CPU whimpers for the comforting warm voice of his friend.

Soundwave snags that fleeting thought. “Inferno.” He hisses the name, spitting the designation as if it were something abhorrently foul, “Every time I come to you, you still cry out for that wretched creature.”

Soundwave catches those slapping, clawing hands, snagging Red Alert’s wrists and holding them prisoner. Ignoring the sting of Red Alert’s hands clawing at his face, the technopath forces the Autobot to press the palms of his hands against the sharp lines of the Decepticon’s cheeks.

Red Alert gasps, shaking his helm left and right in refusal. Knowing from prior experience what is to come. Snarling, gritting his denta in preparation for the Decepticon to drag and yank his face around in order for their optics to connect.

Soundwave grinds Red Alert’s wrists, catching the answering squeal of taut tendons and cables.

“Look. At. Me!”

This time, for the first time in several joors, the Autobot complies. Out of surprise and fear.

Their optics meet…

And that is when Soundwave pounces. Launching the file that would ensure the Autobot’s compliance.

The virus is a battling ram against the wall of Red Alert’s fire wall. With a near audible groan, the walls tumble, the castle crumbling to its knees, under siege as the invader overwhelms its foundation.

Red Alert whimpers, mouth slack with an expression of surprise, no words escaping except for a low staticy whine of misery before stuttering as it fades into oblivion.

Soundwave is swift to curl and wind his influence, weaving it like a net, optical band locked with the stunned, wide blue optics. A hum follows the connection as it seals them together, the hymn of uploading data and constricting tentacles melding into a twisting song.

A technopath is nothing if he can not snare his victim through optical contact.

Red Alert’s hands peter out in their endeavor to claw out his optics and rend his facial plating to shreds, losing the will to claw and bleed Soundwave’s face. Slack within his grip, Red Alert slumps against the wall, optics fading into a milky white.

This time he does not resist when Soundwave once again slips closer, coaxing and running his hands along the taut lines of the Autobot’s chassis, purring at the warm thrum of the Spark pulsing just underneath his hands.

“Yesss…” Soundwave sighs. Hands digging in between the jagged seams of the mech’s shoulders, anchoring them together, reverently caressing and memorizing every crevice and perfect curve and the rare and small imperfection. Brushing his battle mask against Red Alert’s throat, “Do not think of him. Think of me. And look only at me.”