Transformers Prime Imagines Book 2

Go Home. (Team Prime X Femme! Reader)

Home is where the heart is.

Humans love using this line to demonstrate their longing of home.

...But, what is a home? Or heart?

What are those things?

I don't remember having a home, or a parental unit. When you're crudely made for the sole purpose of being replaceable, manufacturers would not bat an optic on quality. Cheap, rusting metals smelted down and poured into pre-molds, followed by inviting sparks from the Wells with the special spark lantern, used to lure wandering, fizzling wills into this...mechatronic vessel.

Well, at least I have a decent model. It's not uncommon for us to be losing an optic or a servo during the making process. Top of the fact that I'm lasting longer for being an expendable living tool, I would say I'm quite lucky to be where I am currently.

Now this brings us to the second question, the heart. According to the books, it is these...red, squishy things that sort of pump stuff to keep small, fragile humans alive?

So...an organic chassis?

No, that's incorrect.

Hmm...

Perhaps it is a specific cog for humans... An organic, mushy, slimy, teeny--

"YN000, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?"

Oh, right.

I was supposed to be picking out Energons.

"My apologies, Lord Starscream. I-"

My apologies was abruptly cut off with a harsh slap to my left cheekplates, those razor sharp claws of my second in command screeched over my paint coating and for a brief moment, I believe sparks flew out from that impact.

Oh well, it's not like I had a perfect condition in the first place anyways. The only one who truly cared for buffing was the medic, Knockout.

"What do we need from a lowly, good for nothing, piece of useless scrap metal such as you-"

Seems like Lord Starscream got a bucket of nasty to pour today. I'm guessing he was punished earlier by our master and well...here I am, open and ready for him to vent out his frustration.

I wish we could have an anger management room, but who am I to talk? Especially not right now, when I'm literally on a 50-50 chance of getting offline by our ruby-eyed seeker.

There I stood, helm facing the dirt below my peds. Humans described this specific act as 'a dog getting told off by it's owner'. Sometimes I'd like to deny and voice out on the ownership issue, but when you're like...made out of scrap metals and real easy to be replaced, you just got to shut the frag up and take them scraps... Or you turn to scrap.

Haha, get it? Because I'm already made out of waste metals to begin...with...

Okay, I'll stop now.

"Who do you think you're smirking at, imbecile?"

Oh frag, faceplate expression.

I knew I should have had my mask on.

"I'm so sorry sir. This is a misunderstanding-"

"I'll show you a misunderstanding, you stupid glitch!"

I'd rather you not sir.

I winced, bracing for the impact (or consequences) from this grey,red, blue (with white? Does he have a white colour scheme on him?) mech, but it never came.

Because our mining ground just exploded.

Oh, I guess I'm expiring in another way today then.

It's probably best to turn off my pain receptors, because metal burns are really unpleasant. Especially when it is a large surface area-

My train of thoughts were halted (again) with another boom. This time, the grounds below us started cracking and ripped open a large abyss. Like a hungry beast, it started devouring the other mechs who struggled with their balance.

Which by the way, I'm also in that unfortunate category.

My ever-screeching boss transformed and blasted off, saving his own life with his quick action.

Just another perks of being a flyer, I guess.

While falling to my ultimate death below, I spotted a fellow (f/c) femme beside me.

To be exact, a (f/c) Autobot.

Screaming her intakes out.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-"

"...ahh..."

...At least she'd die knowing someone was accompanying her.

I'm pondering on the question of how an Autobot is within our vicinity, but the countdown to my offline is kinda nearing, so I guess I will have to stop processing for now...and forever.

I closed my optics, allowing this death ceremonial to welcome me in a harrowingly quick but gruesome death.
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"... Wake..."
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"Wake...up..."
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"I SAID WAKE UP, PRIMUS DAMN YOU!"

Ratchet charged up his defibrillator before slamming it down on the femme's chassis. Millions of voltage was promptly sent into the bot, and a promising reply sounded across the room.

"AAAAHHHH!"

I sat right up, (e/c) bulging out in terror as I heaved desperately, trying to get a sense of my surroundings.

Oh, I'm not dead.

"OF COURSE YOU'RE NOT DEAD, YOU TWAT!" A gruff voice replied, annoyance clearly visible in his tone. "Normally I wouldn't be bothered using my equipments on you, but you're readings is going haywire and you're not replying me."

The red and white mech furrowed his optics as he continued his grumbling.

"If you're done playing possum as the humans would call it, I suggest you get moving! Optimus called you in because you're the only one who can twist all over without breaking apart, and we need you in this mission to retrieve a relic."

...Is that a compliment?

The Autobot medic noticed the femme has yet to move from her place, and his patience is running thin.

"GET TO MOVING ALREADY! We don't have all day, (Y/N)!"

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Who the hell is (Y/N)?

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A/N
Guess who's back. Hehe.
Love yall, this is just the warm up for now, haven't written in months haha. I'll get another one up soon, okay?