A teeny tiny thought that had popped into my mind a while ago and finally got it out of my notebook and here. It's nothing much, hope you like it.
Disclaimer: i don't own anything
Rating: Safe T
Slaggit, I thought, I should've been more careful.
But what could have I done? Ever since I read her bio on the ex-Con files I had wanted to meet her. Knock Out, my partner-in-crime, had talked about his experiences with Insecticons; what he knew of them, I really didn't want to know.
The moment I saw her though, on that quest to find that Con-thingababaa, my spark had emitted enough heat to melt my chest plates and it had taken me all of my willpower to control it -later having Knock Out ask me about what had happened, intrigued by the steam on the inside of my headlights.
Still, I don't blame him; he's the one who has always been in control through his knowledge and charm, knowing of the wicked ways of the femmes. The only control I have ever known of was through strength. Heck, why else did I used to visit the gym so often?
After all, it was strength that made the Vehicons listen to me, and the strength of my frame that had kept me online so long, allowing me to help out with the sleek red medic's crazy experiments on the-most-honored-Autobot-captives, who…err… Well, you know.
Shame it didn't save me this time.
The sticky white stuff, the sharp pointed legs, the mischievous cunning smile on her poisonously beautiful lips, her dark matte armor…
I should've listened to my partner more.
I should've heeded the red, bold letters warning of her in her file.
I should've obeyed the blue flyer.
…
I shouldn't have kissed her.
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