A/N – This is all the fault of the Random Pairing Generator. It kept giving me Constructicon prompts, so I poked it until I had a prompt for each 'structy. So seven drabblets, of varying lengths and wtf factor





He was beauty personified, Scrapper decided. Every movement was graceful, carried out with the strength and confidence. His armor was burnished until it almost glowed in the smoke and dirt of the battlefield, reflecting the red glow of a nearby burning building. It matched the fire burning in his optics.

Sunstreaker. A perfect name for him, really. He was the embodiment of fiery rage, burning his way across the battlefield.

The artist in Scrapper couldn't help but love him... but Scrapper couldn't have him.

Sunstreaker was an Autobot to the spark. He was devoted to the cause, and he hated Decepticons with a passion that even the most vicious of the Decepticons killers would be hard-pressed to match. And Scrapper... Even if he wanted to defect, the Autobots wouldn't be able to forget everything he'd done. And if he was honest with himself, Scrapper didn't want to switch sides.

Not even for Sunstreaker, Scrapper admitted to himself, watching his beautiful Autobot kill with a flash of gold, sending up a spray of hot energon.

But Primus, he wanted him. Another Decepticon would have tried to cage the wild Autobot, to chain him and tame him, but that would ruin the purity of the art. No, Scrapper had another way to preserve essence of everything that was Sunstreaker. He fingered a cutting blade, optics focused on that glimmer of gold. With such materials as these...

This will be a masterpiece.


Prompt: Ironhide/Bonecrusher/possession.




Ironhide patted Bluestreak on the shoulder as the young 'bot trotted out of the detention area. Bluestreak flashed him a grin, waggling his door-wings as he ducked through the door.

Ironhide waited for the door to slide shut behind Bluestreak. Looking down the cell block, he let his shoulders slump. Sighing, Ironhide slowly made his made his way towards the only occupied cell.

Lounging in the back of his cage, Bonecrusher looked up as Ironhide approached. For a long moment, they stared at each other in silence.

"What do you want?" Bonecrusher demanded finally, turning to stare belligerently at the cell wall across from him.

"I..." Ironhide paused, gathering himself. "It's been a long time, Bonecrusher."

Bonecrusher grunted and folded his arms across his chest.

Ironhide rested his arm against the wall. "What went wrong?" he asked plaintively.

"Like you really have to ask."

"I do," Ironhide said sharply. "Slaggit, I thought..."

"What?" Bonecrusher climbed to his feet to glare at Ironhide. "What did you think, Ironhide? That I was going to give up everything I've worked for just to follow you? I was offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! And I was supposed to just let it pass to make you happy?"

"There would've been other opportunities," Ironhide snapped back defensively. "You were one of the best techs on Cybertron! You coulda gone anywhere, done anything, an' you choose them." Old hurt and anger mixed, leaving Ironhide feeling both furious and helpless. "Jus' tell me... Was it worth it?"

Bonecrusher met his gaze squarely. There was a thousand things he could say – He could tell Ironhide about the comrades he'd found in his new team, about the amazing monuments they'd built, or even about the terror they'd faced together at the hands of Megatron and his Robo-smasher. He could tell Ironhide about all the nights Scavenger had stayed up with him after Ironhide left, just so he wouldn't have to be alone. Or the kindred spirit he'd found in Long Haul, or about Mixmaster's antics. Or about Hook and Scrapper, and the challenges they'd faced together, trying to keep the team together and safe. His old lover might even understand...

"Yes," was all he said in the end.

Ironhide just watched him sadly for a long moment. Then, with a short nod, he turned on his heel and walked out without another word.






He's toying with me, Hook realized. Anger flared. I'm not anyone's toy! He lashed out with his crane-line, wrapping his grapple around Sideswipe's leg. Sideswipe stumbled as Hook hauled back on the line.

But the Autobot recovered quickly, catching the cable and pulling Hook off his feet. Hook scrambled to his feet, only to get flattened again by Sideswipe's fist. He palmed a laser scalpel, slashing at the Autobot's face as Sideswipe grabbed him. The scalpel sliced into the side of Sideswipe's faceplate, sending hot energon splattering over Hook's face and shoulder. Sideswipe seized his wrist in a crushing grip, twisting until the blade fell out of numb fingers.

Sideswipe was done playing. Hook found himself slammed to the ground and held there while Sideswipe tied him tightly, the cable biting into his arms. Simmering in the humiliation of being bound with his own line, Hook snarled at his captor. The Autobot smirked, energon running down his face. "Not so high and mighty now, are you?" Sideswipe mocked, trailing fingertips up Hook's jawline. Hook spat a curse.

A choked cry of pain pulled Sideswipe up short. The Lamborghini's head snapped up, optics focusing on something straight out of a nightmare.

Sunstreaker was on the ground, motionless, his chest armor opened in a ragged gash. Sideswipe's grip on Hook tightened painfully as Scrapper leaned over his brother, blade in one hand, the other buried in Sunstreaker's chest.

"Scrapper!" The leader of the Constructicons looked up at the sound of his name being howled. Sideswipe yanked Hook to his feet, shoving the muzzle of his gun under Hook's jaw. "Touch my brother and Hook dies."

"You shoot, and I swear I'll rip out his spark chamber," Scrapper growled back. Hook may have been a consummate pain in the aft, but he was a gestalt-mate.

"Get away from him," Sideswipe snapped.

Scrapper cocked his head, optic band glowing. "Certainly." He straightened, Sunstreaker groaning as Scrapper pulled his hand out of his chest. He stepped back, flicking the energon off his blade. "Your turn, Autobot."

"I don't know, I was thinking keeping him." Sideswipe stroked the muzzle of his gun against Hook's cheek. "Rather mouthy, but thevoice..." he smirked at Scrapper, watching his hand tighten around the knife hilt. "What do you think it would take to get him to scream my name?"

"It's not too late for me to finish turning Sunstreaker into an art piece," Scrapper rasped, his visor flashing in rage.

"I think it is, if you want your precious gestalt-mate back. Sunny! Can you move?" Sideswipe called, pushing his living shield a step closer.

"I... no," Sunstreaker managed.

"Just hang on." Half-shoving, half-dragging the uncooperative Hook, Sideswipe edged towards his brother, keep a wary optic on Scrapper.

Up close, Sunstreaker looked even worse. Sideswipe's fuel pump seized at the jagged wound ripped through his brother's chest, and the deep gashes Scrapper had cut in his face. His finger tightened on the trigger.

Scrapper was too close, he reminded himself, and while he was reasonably sure he could take out the Decepticon, he wasn't sure he could do it before Scrapper got to Sunstreaker.

With a growl, Sideswipe shoved Hook, sending him stumbling into Scrapper. He hefted his brother and retreated as quickly as he dared, while Scrapper was distracted with his helpless gestalt-mate.

Don't worry, we'll finish this some other time, he thought savagely, feeling his twin struggling to stay conscious in his arms. You and I have a debt to settle.


Long Haul/Onslaught/beloved




There were no pretty words between them. No declarations of love, no whispered adorations. Neither of them expected any. They'd both come to far and been through too much to believe in romance.

They certainly enjoyed each other enough, but they also understood each other. That was why they allowed this to continue – it was hard to fall in love with someone who you knew would sacrifice you for their team without a second thought. And neither of them could afford to fall in love.

Their trysts were about need, and not just physical... The need to get away from their teams, to be able to not care about the person they were with, to not feel any responsibility, even if it was just for a moment in a storage room. They were just using each other, and they both knew it. It was better that way.

Onslaught shoved Long Haul against the wall, fingers digging into the seams in his armor, grinding his hips into the truck's. Long Haul clutched at Onslaught's shoulders, the metal flexing under his fingertips. Onslaught winced, but Long Haul couldn't bring himself to care, any more than Onslaught heeded his grunt of pain as the Combaticon slammed him back into the wall.

And neither of them complained if the name the other moaned wasn't theirs.






Scavenger was beginning to think that coming here alone was a mistake. Scavenger stared up into Vortex's optic band, feeling a twist of foreboding in his spark. He tried to sidestep around Vortex, to get to the door. The Combaticon blocked him, leering as he crowded Scavenger back against the wall.

"Leaving so soon?" Vortex giggled, leaning closer.

Scavenger's tail twitched nervously. "I need to get back..."

Reaching up, Vortex stroked the edge of Scavenger's face mask. "I'd almost think you didn't enjoy our last little... playtime, Scavenger."

Scavenger's visor flashed in distress. "Just let me go, Vortex. I don't want-"

"Funny, if my... ministrations... are so unwelcome, why haven't you told anyone?" Vortex purred. "In fact, since those watchdogs you call gestalt-mates haven't tried to remove my rotor assembly, I'd guess that you've been actively hiding our little encounters." He shoved Scavenger back against the wall. "Sounds to me like you don't want this to stop."

"I... please, Vortex..."

"Please what?" Vortex hissed softly, leaning close. He could feel the Constructicon trembling against him.

The door hissed open. Vortex stepped back hastily, releasing Scavenger. Blastoff barely spared them a glance as he stalked across the room, but the distraction was enough for Scavenger to slip out of Vortex's reach and out the door.






"Mixmaster, stay with Astrotrain," Scrapper ordered as Astrotrain lowered his ramp. "We should be back soon.

"Right!" Mixmaster acknowledged cheerfully.

Astrotrain groaned. "Sure, stick me with the nutcase," he groused. The Constructicons ignored him.

Giving Mixmaster a friendly swat as he passed, Bonecrusher laughed. "Don't worry Mixy, I'll make sure to drink your high-grade too, just so it won't go to waste."

"That makes me-me feel so mu-much better." Mixmaster made a face at Bonecrusher's back.

Pulling his ramp back up, Astrotrain settled in for yet another long boring wait. Thankfully, the crazy Constructicon seemed content to settle in a corner with a data pad. At least that's one thing I don't have to put up with, Astrotrain grumped to himself.

Idly surfing through the local communication channels, it took Astrotrain a moment to realize that his passenger had put down his reading. Mixmaster had moved up to his main console and was idly trailing a finger around the controls as he stared out the viewport.

Astrotrain hated it when they did that. It was like they didn't remember that he was a living person, not just a piece of transport machinery. He was alive, and he could feel everything they did, every single twitch and shift they made. And slag it, that tickled.

The fingers tracing their way across his controls dug in suddenly, eliciting a startled noise from the shuttle. That... that was worse than a tickle. Astrotrain twitched, resisting the urge to moan. The fragger's doing it on purpose! Astrotrain realized suddenly. Mixmaster was smirking at the console.

"What the slag do you think you're doing?" Astrotrain demanded.

"Oh, just re-re-relax," Mixmaster giggled. "No reason we can't have some fun while they're gone."

"Stop that!" Astrotrain squirmed as much as he could in his alt mode as Mixmaster's hands found a particularly sensitive spot and scratched. "I – ahh..."

"Oh, so that-that-that's the spot?"

The little slagger is laughing at me. Astrotrain tried to snarl at Mixmaster, but it came out as more of a moan. I should flatten the fragger... A shudder ran through his frame as Mixmaster's hands got increasingly enthusiastic. Later. I'll flatten him later...


Devastator/Omega Supreme/memory




He remembered loving them. It wasn't a real memory – They'd betrayed him, betrayed everything, when they became Devastator. He'd never had a chance to touch them, to love them, like he'd always wanted to but been too afraid. The possibility of hurting them because he was so much stronger than they had made him hesitate, but more than that, he had been terrified that they wouldn't reciprocate, that they'd turn away, and never speak to him again. Back then, the thought of never seeing them again was too painful to risk.

He'd never dared to lay a hand on any of them, but he remembered loving them anyway. It must have been a dream, but it felt so real... it still felt real. He remembered them combined as Devastator, thinking and feeling as one, watching him and smiling gently, without the rage and suppressed pain that lurked in the real Devastator. And being able to touch them, feeling Devastator shiver under his hands...

It made living in reality all that much harder. He reminded himself that it was a fantasy, and nothing more, that they were the enemy, traitors, irredeemable and corrupt. It rarely helped.

And when he came upon the Constructicons alone at a work-site, it didn't help at all. They didn't notice his approach at first, unable to hear his engines amongst the noise of machinery. Long Haul was laughing at something while Bonecrusher made a rude gesture back at him. Mixmaster took advantage of the truck's distraction to cover him in paint, sending Scavenger and Bonecrusher into gales of laughter.

It was all so light-hearted, so care-free... for a moment, Omega Supreme could almost believe that they were back on Cybertron, still building the piece of art that would become known as Crystal City.

We are not, he reminded himself harshly, powering up his weapons. We are enemies, no matter how I could wish otherwise.