AN: I started writing drabbles for a bit to awaken my love for writing transformers and hopefully will be able to finish my other two stories. For now this is an experimentation in order to understand my writing style. I am open for requests if you guys want any but bear in mind I am not a skilled writer but I shall try my best to write out what you needed. The story below is a Reader x Prowl, very short and may contain errors, I won't bite if you point out any mistakes as I am trying to improve my writing. I have a tumblr, theartistwithnotalents, I reply faster there and have a few old drabbles that I will be posting here. Hope you enjoy the story!
Soliders
There weren't many things that scared Prowl. One could say nothing ever scared him. The fault of this would be his logic sensors, the reason why he was one of the best tacticians the Autobot cause ever saw.
He was built to rely on logic, not emotions. His course of action would be purely based on the best fundamental result of the best chance of success of what his logic told him.
Yet, in times like these, he didn't want to rely on logic.
The times when he was in fear.
Both were silent when they met when they were ready to say their goodbyes. They spoke no words as they moved towards the berth. They readjusted themselves until they were holding each other tight, afraid that the other one would just disappear.
"Please," Prowl would beg softly, begging to change to the other one's mind. But they both knew that the reply wouldn't change a thing. Both were soldiers, ready to take orders without hesitation. Even if it would cost the very spark of theirs.
A servo set on top of Prowl's cheek, nudging it softly so they would face each other. Optics to optics, a sad smile found itself embedded on his face.
"Promise you will be careful?" Prowl whispered the last promise they would have with each other.
"Promise,"
Prowl stared silently at the metal coffins in front of them. Autobot brand shining proudly on the metallic sheet coating it. No one uttered a word, everyone grieving their loss silently as they could.
But the world was cut off to him, everything seemed blurry, hazy, disorientated, except the one coffin that had the certain designation carved on it. A designation he dreamt of calling welcome home, softly speaking it while they were in warm embraces. Now, he will never have that kind of luxury.
He expected sorrow, hurt, sadness, empty, a shock to cloud his spark by now.
Yet.
He only felt anger, the need for revenge. Muttering an oath that he would avenge his fallen lover, even if he was going take the most atrocious orders to do it.
Because he was a soldier, ready to take orders without hesitation.
