#and ratchet being like ARE YOU SURE. ARE YOU SURE

[revelboo]

REVEL! I BEG OF THEE! Please feed us our dear Metroplex!

(If you want or have time. No pressure! Please take care of yourself!)

Sure!

I Can Feel You Pt 14

Metroplex x Reader

• Legs bumping against the drone as it walks implacably forward, descending into the darkness as your skin prickles all over, you’re glad that this time you’re not alone. Even if you hadn’t been truly alone the first time, Metroplex watching over you. You hadn’t forgotten how massive his labyrinthine interior was, but it still makes you feel uncomfortably small. And the drone is eerily silent as it carries you, but it’s the fact that it had been pulling Ratchet after it that nags at you. Even mass displaced, it’s ridiculously strong. Stronger than Ratchet. “You’ve been down here before? Alone?” Ratchet asks, voice disapproving and you grimace.

• “Metroplex was watching over me. He showed me where to go,” you say. Leaving out how afraid you’d been anyway. And what he’d brought you down here for, not about to broach the subject that you’d gotten intimate with the city. No, you’ll take that to the grave. Trying to squirm into a more comfortable position, the drone refuses to ease up its grip and you eventually give up and just hang there in its arms. “Are there more of these guys somewhere?” Head craning to stare up at the eerily empty face. Yeah, you can definitely tell when Metroplex isn’t controlling it, because it’s kind of creepy like an animated doll now.

• Where are you? Not where he lost contact with the drone, but he can’t find it either. Turning his focus inward, it takes longer than he’d like to find Scamper again. Unsettled as he slips into it to find it heading toward the damage carrying you. On its own. There’s no awareness inside it beside his own, but it had acted of its own volition somehow. Uneasy, he tips its head down. “Okay?” He asks. You’re dangling against him, the drone’s arms wrapped around you. Stopping to shift you up into his arms, hooking an arm behind your knees, he’s aware of Ratchet staring.

• “Better now,” you say, offering him a smile as Ratchet frowns at both of you. “No offense, but the drone’s creepy when you’re not controlling it.” You’re definitely not telling Ratchet about that intimate encounter, because he already looks like he’s uncomfortable with the way Metroplex is fussing over you. Does the drone have its own spark? Any awareness that it’s being piloted about and controlled? Or is it just an empty shell? You somehow doubt that given the way it’d moved on its own.

• “Apologies, little one.” Already growing tired, he keeps moving. But soon, once he’s repaired? He can find the other drones. Have the energy to make you a place worthy of you nestled near his spark with all three drones to protect and tend to you. Have a possible future with you, kept safe with him. Time to learn each other, to speak and be heard. Do you understand how precious you are to him? How much he’d do for you?

Previous

[startheskelaton]

I'm not sure how Nightflyer and Soundblsster met Sparkplug, but I guess they met her at Earth.

So I'll do my interpretation of how Nightflyer and Soundblaster got on Earth.

Nightflyer was at the palace as usual, going to his berth after he finishes all work for the day he overhears from his sire's chambers about space bridge and how it can take someone to a different planet.

Interested, he begs and pleades Soundblaster to help him try the space bridge, which Soundblaster soon agrees with, using this as an opportunity to get rid of Nightflyer.

So they sneak out and go to the room where the space bridge is kept, and they eventually find it after a few miss ups at which room is it and knocking a few guards or less.

They tried using the space bridge, but it went wrong, and they both ended on the same planet called Earth. They ended up in different places, Nightflyer ended up in the same forest where Optimus first arrived and met Spike, and he's amazed by Earth's beauty while Soundblaster ended up in near fancy human city as he wondered where the living FRAG he ended up.

And that's pretty much it. You can tell me how they actually ended up

Also, I think Nightflyer and Soundblaster would love Earth and its culture.

Nightflyer like Optimus from idw comic and maaaaaaaybe Repunzel from Tangled would fall in love with Earth's beauty and its creatures and plants since he never saw that back Cybertron where everything's metal. To his, this would be a dream come true since, like you said, he's into mutants and plants.

Soundblaster wouldn't like it at first, but then he sees humanity's arts, creativity, literature, museums, and many more humanity has to offer. Like Nightflyer, this would be a dream come true to him, too, since he's into art and literature.

.

.

Bonus: Back on Cybertron, Starscream and Shockwave panicking where the living Primus where their sons went and screaming at anyone while Slipscream tries to eat her energon cereal.

Anyway i really love your ocs and I wish to know more about them. I really love how you have progressed the story so far. I love it.

Actually the real answer is a good bit different, however I love the story you made, It was vary fun to read!

This is how it really went down.

Shockwave chose Nightflyer in particular to be the one to go to earth undercover, he did this because he knew that Night was so loyal to his family, that he wouldn't change sides if need be (this would be proven right later). Nightflyer was absolutely mortified when he was told that he needed to go to earth, not because he didn't like earth, but because he would have to go alone to make the plan look believable. Also he would have to purposefully crash his ship on the planet... but the alone thing was more of priority for him.

He dose make it to earth and makes the ship crash, making it look like he desperately trying to escape from Cybertron. He would be found and taken to the Autobot base (after checking him for tracking devices) where he would be questioned and checked to see if his arrival would bring more enemies to the planet. He was kinda blacked out for a while (because of the crash) when he was sent to Ratchet's med bay to undergo an emergency check up. And who just happened to be the reluctant medical assistant on hand? Sparkplug. She really had to fight her dad in order to stay and help with the exam (she really wanted to be part of something exciting, and a random hot guy falling from space was definitely exciting).

They properly met during tryouts for being put on a mission team. Nightflyer passed well (however he needed to hide his full potential as to not tip off that he was part of the Cybertonian guard). Sparkplug on the other hand passed with shockingly flying colors for a bot her size, however was immediately turned away by Megatron (this is because Sparkplug has been training most of her life to be qualified for off base missions, however is shot down by her dad each time at the qualifying tests. Like her late father, she's not one to take rejection lying down, so she has trained for years and gone to every try out. Much to Megatron's dismay, this has only forced her to get stronger then she would have been if he had passed her earlier).

At first Sparkplug is kinda spiteful against Night simply because he was able to go on missions despite being so new to the autobots, however something makes her look at him differently... she notices he's lying. She has no idea what about but she can feel it, something about his story is too perfect, he's moving up the ranks too quickly and cold outer shell doesn't fit with someone who wanted to break away from his original faction. So when she finds him in the library one night, she corners him, and he breaks... but not fully. He reveals his true personality to her, but not his mission. He is vary genuin about how he feels trapped by having to mask all the time, that no one would take his seriously if he was himself, and how he genuinely felt oppressed by the "the strong rule the weak" mentality of the Decepticons. In return, Sparkplug opens up about her strange existence and confusing expectations people have for her. That she needs to be a replacement but not a copy, to have prime's kindness but none of Megatron's anger, love herself for being special but listen to everyone talk about how freaky her existence is. And after that night... Sparks start to fly between the two.

Soundblaster met Sparkplug in the middle of space.

Eventually the time comes and the seekers (slipstream and company) show up on earth and it's revealed that Nightflyer was a spy the whole time. And a dangerous one at that, actually able to go up against a good amount of the autoboots. This breaks Sparkplug's heart because she talked to Nightflyer a LOT, she had no idea if any of that was real or not. It didn't help his case when he immediately sided with his sister, going back to being a deception due to his loyalty to his family.

However during this shit show, who arrives but the DJD, taking advantage to the situation to try and take Sparkplug in order to make her a new Megatron. Seeking a chance to be praised by Shockwave, Soundblaster is able to grab Sparkplug admits the chaos (capturing the last remints of Optimus prime would be extremely useful in manipulating the public or just making a super weapon) . However due to a mix of Skywarp's powers fucking up along with Slipstream's (she has the same power's as Skywarp), Soundblaster and Sparkplug are warped halfway across the universe. This now forces our characters to try and find Spark before anyone else can.

When coming to, Sparkplug is absolutely livid at Soundblaster and immediately attacks him. But due to the situation, they reluctantly come to an agrement, get somewhere where they can get back to Cybertron or earth, then fight about it then. This forces the two to work with one another to try and make it to intergalactic space station without dying. During this time, Sound only communicates through mores code, never speaking once. However him and Sparkplug have a good amount of conversations, slowly opening up to one another. They really hit it off when Sparkplug is able to relate to Soundblaster, but admit that he defiantly had it worse then her (nightflyer on the other hand saw himself and Soundblaster as equally out cased despite the huge power discrepancy). She's able to see him for who he is, what he was supposed to be, and who he wants to be... and this makes Soundblaster throw away his loyalty to the decepticons and decide to be loyal to Sparkplug herself.

OH MY GOD this was a long post, I could go on but I need to stop myself before this becomes an essay.

[emotionalsupportgoblin420]

TFA team Prime x Human!Reader headcanons.

Just some general crushing/relationship headcanons.

Optimus prime

He's absolutely shocked when he realizes he's fallen for a human.

He struggles a bit with the idea of a human and a cybertronian being together and how realistic it may or may not be.

Is definitely a bit nervous interacting with you one on one.

Tries to keep his cool but fails miserably lol.

Has made it his mission to protect you at all costs.

Despite his nervousness, he's quite affectionate.

It's just little things, but all stuff he knows you'd appreciate.

Always listen to you when you talk.

He remembers everything you say and will take note of like, dislikes, wants, and needs.

Takes him forever to muster up the courage to tell you how he feels.

His smile when you say you like him back is to die for.

This man yearns for cuddles but is too worried about hurting you or invading your personal space to just do it.

You gotta offer the cuddles.

Boundaries are number 1 on his priority list in a relationship.

He makes sure he doesn't cross any of yours.

He's definitely not all that openly affectionate around the rest of the team.

Hates Bumblebee's constant teasing.

When you two are alone, it's a very calm kind of affectionate if you know what I mean.

Honestly, your love is what keeps him going sometimes and needs you to know that.

He's a good leader and an even better boyfriend.

TFA Ratchet

This man is the definition of tsundere.

Can't figure out how in the wide world he ended up falling for a human.

So he denies his feelings for as long as he can.

Until they become too strong and he just can't.

Doesn't change how grouchy he is, tho lol.

It's a rare thing for him to say anything nice to you, but when he does, you can feel the sincerity behind them.

He would definitely end up confessing to you while protecting.

Trying to get this man to be openly affectionate is like trying to pull teeth 80% of the time.

He's not necessarily mean, just basic tsundere behavior.

But that 20% is something to die for.

Usually, it's late at night, when everyone else has powered down for the day and you two are the only ones still up.

It's at those times where he really opens up to you.

Not to mention, he appreciates having someone around to listen to him.

And he let you know he appreciates it.

He isn't much for physical affection.

Most you'll get is a caress on the cheek.

Acts or service is his main love language.

He'll fix certain things whether or not you've said anything about them, and he makes sure you take care of yourself.

He may be a little rough around the edges, but at the end of the day, he's a sweet guy deep down.

And he truly cares about you, no questions asked.

TFA Prowl

This man is fascinated by the idea of being in a relationship with a human.

But he never thought he'd be catching feelings for a human.

He's not quite sure what to do with these new feelings.

All he knows is that your presence makes him very happy.

It definitely takes him a while to figure out how to confess to you.

He's not used to being so open with other people.

He definitely gets a little bit flustered around you.

He's not quite sure what boyfriends do.

He tries taking advice from Bumblebee once but only once.

He vows to never do that again lol.

I feel like, despite him being a massive introvert, his love language is still quality time.

He really enjoys and values the time you two spend together.

Loves to study nature with you.

Whether that be through a nature walk or a nature documentary.

TFA Bumblebee

Gets a smile on his face every time you cuddle up next to him while watching a documentary.

Sometimes, he'll just space out and stare at you (until you look in his direction lol).

He usually isn't the type to get overly nervous, but you do some cute and/or hot, and you'll see him lose his cool (just a little).

He's quite the blusher lol.

Would probably faint if you ever did something sexy.

You're probably the only person you can really make him lose his composure, lol.

Oh this man fell fast and fell hard.

Doesn't really care that you're human.

Always tries to act cool around you.

Is an absolute simp 100%

Sometimes, he'll just sit there and stare at you.

You might as well be a god/goddess to him.

Out of everyone, he's probably the least nervous with his feelings.

Definitely finds a way to tell you how he feels in the "coolest" (by his standards lol) way possible.

He is the reigning king of surprise cuddles.

Anywhere, anytime.

He's pretty chill with PDA.

Likes people knowing you're his.

He loves to either play video games with you or just have you around while he plays video games.

He thinks the song Pika Girl by S3RL is the perfect song for your relationship.

Thinks you are the hottest thing on this planet.

He practically gets heart eyes every time you kiss him on the mouth.

When you wear a cute outfit, his knees get all weak as he tries to keep his cool.

God, if you were to wear something sultry, he'd probably start overheating and have an error lol.

Has tried to do the pocky thing with you at least once (if not more) even tho he doesn't eat pockys.

To him, you are his beginning, middle, and end.

TFA Bulkhead

Poor guy gets so nervous when he realizes he's fallen in love with a human.

He thinks he isn't cool enough for you.

Or too scary.

You'd probably have to be the one to confess first for this guy.

Is absolutely shocked that you like him too.

His main love language is 100% physical touch.

Would be too afraid of crushing you to cuddle up to you.

But when you cuddle up to him, oh gosh, you just made his day, no, his whole year.

Is definitely afraid to hug for similar reasons.

Practices gentle hugging on sticks and such just so he can.

Complimenting his art is another easy way to make his day.

As well as letting him infodump about random art facts.

He wouldn't use pet names on you unless you asked because he's so shy lol.

The first time you use a pet name on him, he'd probably almost faint.

Especially if you called him something like "teddy bear."

He'd might actual cry a little (happy tears ofc).

He loves just being able to carry you around everywhere on his shoulder.

He likes being your personal escort lol.

Sometimes, we he's feeling insecure, he needs reassurance you won't leave him for someone cooler.

For a big guy, he can be so sensitive.

And you mean the world to him.

[brobotsbro]

Litchrally like one of the top three things that are Very Important to me about OP (tfp) is the bit where he was, for all intents and purposes, a Decepticon. My IDEAL dynamic is basically

The kids, Orion Pax arc: wait, so Optimus was a Decepticon?!!

Ratchet: ACTUALLY, that's HIGHLY SIMPLIFYING a COMPLEX MATTER. back then there WERE no autobots and decepticons. we were not at WAR, so there were NO FACTIONS, so NO, he was definitely NOT A DECEPTICON. the IDEA. the NERVE.

----------------

The kids, post Orion Pax arc: so.... You were like the OG Decepticon?

Optimus: yeah

[merlinfromberlin]

Never have I ever seen a smile this fake.

[lord-squiggletits]

If my lifelong best friend called me an organ harvester instead of a blackmail victim, told me I deserved everything coming to me, called me a horrible Autobot, told me I was dead to him, broke my elbow, left me hanging over a black abyss of a canyon with the explicit intention to leave me to die, and then stole my hands without even checking to see if I was still alive or not

You could most assuredly bet that I would be very angry about it and vivisecting said ex-bestie and torturing them would be the least of the things I would do to get back at them sdklfjlsdk

[exasperatedoctopus]

Have a crackpot theory: the people who enjoy most of the new police procedurals that have been coming out recently just secretly wanna watch soap operas but don’t have the Guts

[transingthoseformers]

🎶so much bickering🎶 can occur when the scientists and medics team up to try and work in the synthetic energon formula

[muletia]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[tfp] obsessed!orion pax x human!reader

summary: what if optimus' obsession bypassed his memory loss? what if he was so infatuated that even his past self yearned for you?

cw: fluff, pinch of angst, canon divergence: orion is taken by the autobots, obsessive thoughts, clinginess, orion literally cannot be left alone for one(1) second, tbh nothing happens in this, i just wanted to write obsessed!orion interacting with you, bad writing, silliness

word count: 4700

"Come to the base. It's urgent."

As you stare at the terse message from Ratchet, your chewing slows and stops. A storm of questions whirls in your mind, panic creeping into your body. Before you can even type a single letter, your phone rings. The caller is none other than the Autobot medic himself. You answer in less than a second.

"Hello? Ratchet, please don't scare me—what exactly happened?"

"It's about Optimus." Your heart skips a beat. "During the last mission, he was... injured. Or, to be precise, damaged."

"Is it serious?" you ask, pacing nervously around the break room. Lunch now long forgotten. "Will he be all right?"

"Physically—he's never looked or felt better. Mentally, however... that's a different story. I'll explain the details when you get here. And make it quick."

"Hold on, wait—I can't just leave work early like that. There's a whole procedure for this. I can't just waltz out, even though I’d love to leave right now."

"...In an hour and a half, I expect to see you here at the base. See you then."

He hangs up. You stare at your phone screen for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head. Something serious must have happened—Ratchet wouldn’t disturb you at work otherwise. And it involved Optimus... You bite your lip, torn by indecision. You need to at least make sure he's okay, to see with your own eyes what Ratchet was talking about. Otherwise, you'll regret your negligence and spend the rest of the day worrying.

Shoving the half-eaten sandwich into your bag, you rush to your computer to draft a request for early leave, praying fervently that your boss will grant it.

You kept pressing the gas, speeding toward the base, trying to balance obeying traffic laws with worrying about the Autobot. You knew he had been preparing for a mission recently, he had told you about it during a ride you shared, but you didn’t expect it to end like this. Maybe you should have, considering you were associated with a race of aliens deeply embroiled in a centuries-long war, but you always pushed such unpleasant thoughts to the back of your mind, wishing your friends the best. Now, though, all the worst scenarios were coming to the surface. Had he fallen into a coma? Was his processor damaged? Had he died? You didn’t want to think about such an ending. Optimus was alive. You were sure of that.

Seeing the familiar red rock, a tight knot of anxiety gripped your throat. In a few moments, you were about to drive into what was practically your second home, not knowing what awaited you. You glanced at the clock. You were half an hour late—well beyond the time Ratchet had given you.

As if on cue, the medic called you again.

“Don’t enter the hangar. Leave the vehicle at the entrance.”

Before you could say a word, he hung up, leaving you to sigh in frustration.

Following his instructions, you parked at the main entrance and made the rest of the journey on foot. The lights seemed especially harsh, glaring into your eyes as the tunnel stretched endlessly ahead of you, as if warning you, giving you one last chance to turn back. But no force on Earth could stop you now. Determined, you marched forward, needing to know what had happened to your friend.

The hangar was full of Autobots, their sheer presence intimidating. You had thought you were over the feeling of smallness that came with being one of the humans among them, but now it hit you again, hard, dredging up memories of when humans in their midst were still a novelty. You froze for a moment, your courage momentarily disappearing in the shadows of giants.

It wasn’t until your eyes landed on the reason you had left work early that you began to breathe again. Optimus stood there, seemingly whole and healthy, facing the platform where the kids likely were. Relief washed over you. He was alive. Your heart was still racing, but the weight of dread lifted slightly, leaving you braced for the next wave of bad news.

"Hey, sorry I’m late. Work took longer than I expected," you called out.

Your voice immediately caught his attention. Optimus turned to you so abruptly that it shocked everyone present, abandoning the conversation he had been engaged in. Tilting your head back to meet his gaze, you were surprised when he knelt down on one knee, making himself more accessible. You still had to look up, but now his face wasn’t obscured by his… windshields.

The first hint that something was off was his smile—wide, cheerful, and curious. Optimus didn’t smile like that, not even when something genuinely delighted him. Worry started gnawing at you again. Something was wrong.

"Greetings. You must be our next human ally, correct?"

At first, you were at a loss for words. Of all the scenarios you had imagined, memory loss hadn’t even crossed your mind. But before the conversation could veer into awkward territory or panic could take hold, you managed to reply, mirroring his smile.

"That’s right."

"You seem… familiar. As though we have met before."

The hangar fell silent, the atmosphere thickening.

"Of course he would remember her," Ratchet hissed under his breath. You shot him a glare filled with venom.

Focusing back on the mech before you, you forced a calm smile, masking the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You felt like you were on the verge of exploding—uncertain whether to jog his memories or pretend this was truly your first meeting. Why hadn’t anyone given you guidance on how to handle this?

"Erm, well…" you began, only for Ratchet to step in and spare you.

"Humans can look quite similar at first glance," the medic interjected. "Orion, this is [Name], the last human who should know of our existence."

A flicker of something lit up in his cyan optics—something indefinable, known only to him.

"Greetings, [Name]. It is a great pleasure to meet you."

He extended a servo toward you. Tentatively, you clasped one of his digits, ignoring the ache in your heart. This shouldn’t have been happening. You shouldn’t have to forge a new relationship with someone so dear to you. It felt uncanny—like he was wearing Optimus’s skin but was someone entirely different inside. It was unnerving, disorienting. Yet this stranger had knelt before you, reduced himself to your scale to show respect, just as Optimus always had. It was a glimpse of his alternate self, a sign of the inherent honor and kindness he still carried.

"Hello, Orion. The pleasure is all mine."

Letting go of his servo, you gave him an apologetic smile, signaling the end of the conversation. You needed answers, clarity about the situation, before you could decide how to proceed. As Orion straightened up, you stepped past him toward the platform. You could feel curious optics on you, particularly his, as you fist-bumped the kids. Unbeknownst to you, Orion clenched his servo in the same way you had during your handshake.

"So," you said to Ratchet, "what happened?"

The medic sighed, clearly weary of recounting the story yet again. But you had to know. You listened intently, the details unsettling and at times horrifying, but you felt a growing sense of calm. At least now you knew what you were dealing with—what topics to avoid, how to act. The relief faded, however, when you learned that the first attempt to restore Optimus’s memories had failed, and no date had been set for the next.

As Ratchet spoke, most of the team dispersed, leaving only you, the medic, and Orion in the hangar. Taking a moment to process everything, you glanced at Orion, catching his curious gaze.

This was your new reality. Optimus was gone, yet not entirely, standing just a few meters away, watching you intently. It was too much to dwell on. You needed something to distract yourself.

Standing from the couch, you headed down the stairs. You figured you’d be here for the rest of the evening, so you might as well find something productive to do.

"[Name]?" Orion’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He looked genuinely concerned. "Are you leaving already?"

His behavior puzzled you.

"I’m just going to grab my things. I’ll be right back."

"I see. May I accompany you?"

Oh, that was adorable—especially with the hopeful tone in his voice.

"I’m not sure you’ll fit in the tunnel in your current form," you teased with a laugh. "It won’t take long. I’ll be back in a minute."

This time, you quickened your pace.

For several hours, Orion's life had been filled with uncertainty. He didn’t know how he had ended up on this planet, who the Autobots around him were, or why they called him "Prime" when he felt he was unworthy of the title. And now, another enigma had appeared—you. Orion could not rationalize the overwhelming need to be near you. He had felt it the moment he laid his optics on you. The need to stay close, to converse, to observe. The need to know you better. Never before had such intense emotions stirred within him for anyone, let alone a stranger. But you weren’t a stranger. This may have been your first meeting, and he may have spoken to you for the first time, but you were not unfamiliar. Of that, he was absolutely certain.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes into hours since you had disappeared into the tunnel. He regretted not following you, even if it meant transforming into his alt-form. At least he would have kept an optic on you, preventing the gnawing feelings of confusion and longing from devouring him from inside.

Ratchet watched his friend closely. He recognized that look, that body language. He knew what it signified, what storm was brewing in Orion’s processor. Optimus had been the same when it came to you. For a brief moment, his friend was back. Too bad it was under such circumstances.

"Do you really remember that woman?" he asked.

"I am not certain," Orion replied, still gazing toward the tunnel. "I feel like she is not a stranger, even though I know this was our first encounter. And as… Prime, if I indeed held that title, was she close to me?"

Primus.

"Perhaps closer than any human, but only Optimus knew to what extent. That might explain why you recognized her."

"Then she is special."

"Everything points to that."

Orion glanced at him, offering a faint smile. For reasons Ratchet couldn’t quite explain, the gesture was hard to look at. Fortunately, you emerged from the tunnel, giving him an excuse to start working again.

"See? I told you it’d only take a minute," you laughed, a black backpack slung over your shoulder.

Orion didn’t confess the truth—that by his reckoning, you had been gone an eternity. He watched intently as you climbed the stairs and took a seat on the couch.

"So, Orion," you began, "what did you do on Cybertron?"

Oh. You were curious about him? Truly? He had never thought of himself as particularly interesting.

It was fortunate that you were not looking at him because his body language betrayed his embarrassment.

"I was an archivist. Do humans on Earth have similar professions?"

"Of course. You know, I’ve always admired archivists. It’s meticulous work, requiring patience and nerves of steel—if you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s an important job, and anyone who takes it up is very cool in my book."

"Cool?"

"You know, fascinating, impressive, admirable."

"Does that mean that... in your optics, I am… cool?"

He asked without thinking and immediately regretted it when you gave him an amused look. Embarrassed, he tilted his helm downward. For such a towering and formidable being, he was also astonishingly skittish. It was peculiar to see a former Prime in such a light, but it made him more relatable, more emotionally accessible. Even so, you couldn’t deny that you missed Optimus.

"Of course, you’re cool to me."

That answer brightened him. A spectacle of stars dances in his optics.

You returned to typing on your laptop, but Orion had other plans for you.

"It seems I still have much to learn about this planet."

"I think you’ll catch on quickly. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, the other bots don’t know everything either. If you’re ever unsure, just ask. I’ll do my best to help."

"Thank you, [Name]. Your kindness is very important to me."

"Anytime. If you’d like, you could also explore our literature—it’ll give you a good insight into what humanity is all about. That sounds like a fitting activity for an archivist, doesn’t it?"

He would much rather have you as his sole source of knowledge about your species, as it meant spending more time with you. He wanted to know not just what you were but who you were—your interests, where you worked, how you spent your free time, your philosophy, beliefs, and hobbies. Everything you were willing to share. He wanted to know you inside and out, to solidify this sense of connection and make it real. And if you wished, he would bare his own secrets, reveal his spark, and show you every part of himself. Perhaps then you might look at him just for a second longer.

"Yes, I believe that would be an enjoyable activity. And what is it that you do?"

He asked question after question, each answer adding a new layer of understanding about you. He shared a little in return, preferring listening to you—your opinions, your perspective.

Time passed swiftly in your company. Relentless and unforgiving, it waited for no one. Orion realized this when you set aside your device and began stretching. It was a mesmerizing sight—your movements were so different from those of Cybertronians, fluid, and light. That was until the air was pierced by the loud crack coming from your back.

Energon froze in his fuel lines, and his spark leaped to his intake.

"[Name]? Are you alright? Are you harmed?"

"Hm?" you hummed, confused. He looked as though calamity had befallen him, as though you’d been beheaded. Then you remembered—it was Orion, not Optimus, and the human body was weird. "Oh, that. Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s perfectly normal." To prove your point, you began cracking your knuckles, stopping quickly when you saw his horrified expression. "Okay, sorry about that. But really, I’m fine. I just need to stretch."

"Alright…" he replied, though he didn’t seem convinced. You couldn’t blame him.

You rose from the couch and stepped down from the platform, intending to take a short walk. Panic erupted in his spark. Oh no. No, no, no. He didn’t want to be left alone, not after such a jarring experience. He wouldn’t let you out of his optics now—not even for a moment.

"May I accompany you?"

"Of course!" you replied without hesitation, smiling—a gesture he immediately mirrored. "It won’t be very exciting, though."

"On the contrary, I find you to be a most intriguing individual."

"Oh, thank you," you said, clearing your throat, embarrassed. Compliments delivered in that baritone still flustered you.

Together, you ventured deeper into the base, bypassing various sections. In the training room, Arcee worked on her speed, while Bulkhead struck a makeshift punching bag fashioned from an old car. The children watched the spectacle, occasionally entertaining themselves. You both quickly slipped past the always-open entryway and continued on your way.

“[Name]?” Orion inquires. You turn into an empty hangar with a high platform, starting to ascend the stairs.

“Hm?”

“How do humans attempt to court their partners?”

You hadn't expected that kind of question. You stop mid-step, pondering your answer. When you look at him, his expression is dead serious, though his optics betray a determination. Why would he want to know this? You decide it’s probably mere curiosity.

“It depends on the person.” You continue climbing the stairs until you finally reach the top, now level with his faceplate. “Some buy gifts like flowers, others go on elaborate dates. But the common factor is spending time together, and getting to know one another. Feelings tend to develop naturally that way,” you explain. “Actually, that’s an interesting topic. How did it work on Cybertron?”

“Similarly. However, instead of exchanging ‘flowers,’ we presented rare metals or crystals to leave the best impression. To demonstrate strength and potential as a partner.”

“I know a few people who would totally fall for that approach. Heh, I’d be thrilled to get a geode myself.”

Orion suddenly lights up. Were you suggesting something or just sharing an opinion? Whatever it was, he felt compelled to try. To prove himself worthy. Perhaps he could even find the ‘flowers’ you mentioned.

“I see. Thank you for enlightening me.”

“You’re welcome?” you reply, unsure exactly how you’ve helped, but the sight of his broad smile and bright optics makes it all worthwhile. He was utterly adorable.

The two of you chat casually until you’re forced to check the time. You inhale sharply, and Orion tilts his head slightly, curious about your reaction.

“It was great talking to you, but I really need to go. I have work tomorrow and I’d like to get some sleep.”

Panic flashes across his face. He had enjoyed your company so much. He didn’t feel alienated or alone when he was with you. The sense of connection played a significant role, but Orion had already let you into his spark. He had found a safe harbor in you and wasn’t ready to drift away just yet. He wasn’t ready to let go, even if the world around him were to crumble.

“May I accompany you?” he asks, desperation seeping into his tone.

“Excuse me?”

“May I accompany you?” he repeats, now begging.

“My home isn’t exactly designed to host a giant robot. Besides, it’s dangerous and... wait, do you even know the traffic regulations?”

His expression answers the question, but he still attempts to defend himself.

“I have acquainted myself with them partially.”

“Who has the right of way at an uncontrolled intersection?”

He opens his mouth but quickly closes it again, visibly crestfallen. He looks as though he might cry.

“Orion, we’ll see each other tomorrow,” you reassure him. “The first thing I’ll do after work is come here.”

He frantically searches for an argument to keep you with him—anything to prolong your company. Then he remembers his first encounter with human children.

“Every child was assigned a guardian who escorted them home and ensured their safety,” he states, refusing to give up. “Do you have a protector?”

“Unofficially, that was Optimus…”

“Then I would like to carry on his mission.”

“I’m not a child, Orion.”

“I understand that. I merely wish for your safety, [Name],” he explains earnestly. “And… I would prefer not to part from the company most dear to me.”

Your thoughts drift back to something he said earlier—how he recognized the bond you once shared, even though this was your first conversation. He hadn’t recognized Ratchet or anyone from his team—only you.

You tried to put yourself in his position. To suddenly find yourself in a foreign place, surrounded by strangers addressing you by a false name and feeding you information that might as well be fiction. And then, in a world where nothing is familiar, someone steps in—someone you vaguely recognize. You might not know their name, but you know there was once a connection. Wouldn’t you cling to that tiny thread, desperately pulling it closer if someone tried to take it away?

Orion had found solid ground, and you were unintentionally trying to undermine it. You exhale softly. You already knew you’d be saying goodbye to sleep tonight.

“Alright.” His smile makes it all worth it. It’s as though you’ve handed him a star from the sky. “Let’s see what Ratchet has to say about all this.”

"I see no objections."

Orion looks at you with excitement sparkling in his optics.

"Wow, that was quick."

"It's a good excuse for Orion to explore the area and get accustomed to his alt mode."

The medic refrains from adding that if the former leader remained at the base, he would likely have wasted away in longing for you, lamenting to every sentient being that he couldn't wait to see you again. Though the comment teeters on the edge of his glossa, he opts for discretion. Optimus, at least, had never vocalized his peculiar obsession with you quite so openly.

"Should anything unusual occur, contact me immediately. Someone will come for you in the morning," Ratchet advises his friend before turning to you. "Good night, [Name]."

You thank the medic for his diligence and ask him to take some rest, earning a piercing glare that almost feels lethal, then retrieve your backpack and head toward the tunnel. Orion stays close by, not leaving your side even after transforming. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you, visibly delighted at the prospect of your first shared drive together. In his mind, this was more than a mere drive—it was a deeply intimate act, almost akin to inviting a partner into one’s private space.

But his dreams are promptly shattered when you inform him that you have your own car.

The journey is uneventful but nerve-wracking; you constantly check your side mirror to ensure Orion is still following you. Thankfully, there are no issues, and he even remembers to use his turn signals when necessary. Everything proceeds smoothly until you pull into your driveway and are struck by a dreadful realization: Will a Peterbilt even fit in my garage?

You park your car to the side, leaving Orion enough space to drive safely. Exiting your vehicle, you open the garage door and wave at him to proceed. You nervously bite your thumb, watching the massive truck carefully edge into the space. There are barely three centimeters between the roof of the truck and the ceiling. When you close the garage door, the already limited space shrinks further.

"So, do you regret your decision now?" you ask, stepping around to the front of the truck.

Orion transforms with meticulous precision, carefully positioning his limbs and helm to avoid damaging the walls. The process goes well until his helm grazes the ceiling with an audible thud, dislodging a few small pieces of debris. He winces slightly and rubs his helm but offers you a warm smile.

"I do not regret my decision."

"Pfff, well, that's good. Are you all right?"

"I am unharmed."

You can’t help but feel guilty for confining him to such a cramped space, but it was his choice. If he insisted, he would simply have to endure it. Of course, that meant you would have to endure it, too, as the issues began almost immediately.

"All right, I’m going to grab my things. I’ll be back in a moment."

He panics again—something you’re beginning to expect from him.

"Please, do not leave me."

His voice is unchanging. A deep and thick baritone that permeates your body, speaking straight to your soul. It is strange to hear the same voice coming out of a shamed and uncertain being, begging you for company.

"I’ll only be gone for two minutes."

You reach for the door handle, but his servo shoots forward, blocking your exit.

"Orion," you chide, your tone sharp and reprimanding.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, his apprehension laid bare.

"Please, I do not wish to be alone."

"Two minutes," you say firmly, though your annoyance falters when you see the raw emotion in his optics. Sighing, you place a hand on the edge of his digit, catching his attention. "I’ll be back. I promise."

He believes you, of course he does. He trusts you to return, yes, he even knows it. It doesn't change the fact that he is frightened, he feels alone, and your proximity calms the storm raging through his processor. His whole body is clamoring for you, screaming for you to stay with him. He craves bodily contact, he wants your soft hands to stroke his metal and your lips to whisper sweet nothings. He wants more, he wants to feel the softness, more, more, more.

He takes his servo away.

"Good mech."

As you disappear through the door, Orion buries his face in his hands. Despite his embarrassment, he can’t suppress a grin. He had enjoyed that moment—far too much.

He wants to hear you say it again.

When you return, you’re carrying a blanket, a deck of UNO cards, some snacks, and your laptop. Orion beams at the sight of you but frowns when he notices you shivering.

"Are you cold?" he asks with concern.

"Hmm? A little, but I’ll warm up soon."

Without warning, he gently scoops you up in his servo, handling you with the utmost care. The shock is brief—you don’t even have time to protest before he places you on his chassis. His servo remains loosely wrapped around you as a precaution, but your back presses against his warm metal frame. Tilting your head up to glare at him for pulling such a stunt, you find him already watching you, amusement dancing in his optics.

"Ask next time before you do something like that," you scold lightly.

"I make no promises," he teases, earning a playful flick to his digit.

"I was planning to play UNO, but since you pulled that move, let’s watch a movie instead. Unless you’d rather do something else?"

"I leave myself entirely at your mercy."

He would have been content doing nothing as long as he could hold you close.

"All right, then. A movie it is."

It's hard for him to keep up with the plot when he's overstimulated, but he tries, because your questions encouraging discussion come out of nowhere. And it was just at moments when he started to drift off, when the optics shifted from the tiny screen to you; when there was only you and him in the world. Sometimes, however, he would focus for longer, especially during the romantic scenes. He longs to experience something similar with you, an indestructible, sappy love. To recite poetry into your ear and watch you blush, to announce to everyone how much you mean to him. To bestow expensive gifts, the geodes you mentioned earlier. He needs your tender words, your praise, your touch. You could do whatever you liked with him, and he would give you his spark.

He worries when you fall silent for too long.

"[Name]?" he calls softly, leaning closer to check on you. Relief washes over him when he sees you’ve simply fallen asleep. Poor thing—you must have been exhausted.

Still, a part of him resents it. He wanted to talk to you longer, watch more films, learn more about human romance to win your favor. But he knows his thoughts are selfish. Setting the laptop aside, he carefully covers you with his other servo, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety.

He's not sure he'll be able to recharge. At least not now, when he was too absorbed in devouring you with his optics. You felt safe with him. You gave him your trust. You chose him.

A spark of possessiveness sweeps through his processor. He doesn't want to let you go. He doesn't want you to go to work tomorrow and leave him for eternity. He also knows he shouldn't think that way. The spark goes out.

Watching you sleep, his processor churns with thoughts. You trusted him. He vows to prove his worth tomorrow, to show you just how deep his feelings run.

Because he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be himself. How much longer he will remain as Orion Pax.

[keferon]

I stand by the belief that Drift/Deadlock and Hot Rod would be friends in any universe. Much to the terror of everyone else.

———————————————————————

Deadlock was loosing his mind.

Deadlocks face plates were starting to hurt from the strain of manually stopping himself from reflexively smiling. And why did he have an overwhelming compulsion to smile?

Because: This. Tiny. Minuscule. Absolute Fragging SPECK of a human was somehow radiating more emotion out of his EM field than any other mech that Deadlock has ever met in his life.

And what was that emotion?

"THIS IS THE COOLEST SHIT IVE EVER SEEN IN MY FUCKING LIFE!"

Joy. Pure. Unfiltered. Unrestrained. And completely unreasonable levels of joy.

"RATCHET. RATCHET. HE'S SO COOL."

The mini nuclear reactor was currently shaking the medic by the shoulders, practically vibrating with unspent energy. Seconds ago, Hot Rod had seemingly slagging materialized next to him in an explosion of emotion that damn near knocked Deadlock on his aft. He was currently tempted to swat the little fragger halfway across the hangar to escape the onslaught of unexpected emotions except-

Ratchet had personally brought him in. Even now, the medics field remained calm and collected in the face of what to Deadlock felt like a fragging Sun. He kinda envied humans field numbness right now because it was definitely starting to screw with his processor.

Case in point, Deadlock had to take a click to refocus on what the squishes were talking about.

"No fucking way. Really?!"

“Yes, he really did take down those three quints near the wind farm by himself. Ate one of 'em too.”

"YOU EAT THEM?!?"

Deadlock was expecting disgust, but instead all he could feel was overwhelming awe. His resolve to remain aloof and detached was quickly beginning to crumble before the blast furnace of Hot Rods personality.

A manual override finally failed and Deadlock broke into a wide grin. At least he kept his fangs on prominent display. Equal parts smile and threat.

"Drink, actually."

Deadlock made a conscious effort to take on a more relaxed posture, one that would convey predatory pride and confidence.

"Dude. Dude. Dude."

Hot Rod held his hands to his face, leg rapidly bouncing up and down.

"YOU'RE A FREAKING ROBOT VAMPIRE FROM OUTER SPACE?!"

Before Deadlock could ask what a vampire was, Hot Rod had begun jogging away while screaming incoherently.

"What. What is happening?" Deadlock leaned towards his human, listening to Hot Rod get fainter as he rounded the corner of the hangar.

"About what I expected.” Ratchet grumbled, setting his hands on his hips.

“Roddy is intense as they come but he’s a damn good pilot and an even better friend."

Ratchet pointed a finger at Deadlock.

"Don't tell him I said that."

Hot Rod had become almost inaudible by now but was slowly gaining volume again.

"Right now kid, it's just been you and I. And trust me I enjoy the arrangement. But we can't fight every battle by ourselves. Sometimes you just need help. Sometimes,"

The screaming was quickly gaining decibels.

“You just need a friend.”

A friend.

Huh.

The scarred, defensive, self preserving part of Deadlock protested the thought of being pried open any further. Ratchet had started the process. But, c'mon. It's Ratchet. He scolded his inner self. Ratchet always left things stronger then before. So, maybe. Just a little bit. Deadlock could at least see what was so great about this squishy human.

The screaming returned to its initial volume as Hot Rod rounded the corner and mech. They were pretty sure humans normally breathed more often than that?

Hot Rod came to a stop before the two of them.

Finally gasping in fresh air. His field was absolutely roiling, pretty much all positive emotions but the screaming lap around the building had clearly vented a lot of energy.

"Can you turn into a bat?!"

Deadlock reset his optics, an idea spreading across his processor as he finally let his Em field reciprocate with giddiness and mischief.

Who cares if it's sparkling behavior? It’s fun. He told the Deadlock part of himself.

"Nope. But do you want to know what I can turn into?"

Hot Rod nodded so fast Ratchet looked concerned.

Che-che-chu-klunk.

Hot Rod started screaming again.

This time when when his EM field hit Deadlock he took it all in and reflected it right back. He revved his engine so loudly it shook the windows. Hot Rod was running and jumping in a tight circle around the two of them, radiating Joy Joy Joy Joy. Deadlock swore his field was even effecting Ratchet at this point from the way happy seemed to bounce between the three of them in various shades.

"Can we go for a ride?!"

Hot Rod had stopped by Deadlocks passenger side door. Rapidly looking between Ratchet and Deadlock, clearly uncertain who's permission to ask for.

"Well Doc, do you trust us not to get into trouble?" He wriggled his tires.

"You two? Staying out of trouble? Hell no."

Ratchet rubbed his chin the way he always did when he was trying to stop himself from smiling.

"But as long as you both come back in one piece and before dark... Well I don't see the harm."

Hot Rod gave his loudest "WOOP!" Yet. A feat in it of itself. A scrambled into Deadlocks cabin, forgoing the door entirely to throw himself bodily through the window.

They tore away from Ratchets hangar with a chorus of thanks and a spray of gravel.

———————

It was well after dark by the time the duo rolled into Ratchets hangar. Hot Rod stumbled out into a semi controlled summersault that left him spread eagle on the floor, laughing and panting. While Deadlock smoothly transformed and promptly rolled flat on his back in a similar state of delirium.

They had so much fun. He had so much fun.

When was the last time he'd ever felt like that?

When had he ever felt like that?

Ratchet was upside down frowning at him. No, wait. Smiling.

Happy. Fondness. Proud.

Love.

Deadlock cleared his vents and put a hand over his spark before his chest plates could do something very stupid.

Ratchet turned to the hot mess on the floor.

"I got the couch set up for you. Figured you're gonna stay the night."

Hot Rod stuck his arms straight up, palms open.

"Woo, sleepover!"

His field had finally simmered down to something like coals. A bone deep exhaustion that made Deadlock feel heavy by proxy.

They both gracelessly shuffled onto their respective resting arrangements, Ratchet taking the recliner after dimming all the lights.

Soon enough, all three were in recharge or asleep.

———————

Deadlock started out of recharge with tightly trained silence.

Something was wrong.

Threatened. Stressed. Afraid.

Deadlock seemed dead to the world still. But internally, his systems quickly synced to kill. A skill he had honed over many millennia of unsafe homes and attempted assassinations.

What surprised him was how he already mentally mapped out how to maneuver the humans into the safest location in a fight. Deadlock finally onlined his optics, casting the hangar in an amber glow. His processor clicked and Deadlock realized what was triggering his fight response.

Threatened. Stressed. Afraid.

Hot Rod.

Limbs twisted in fabric, face buried in the crook of the couch. Posture contorted. Breathing uneven. Field pulled in so tight it felt suffocating.

Deadlock loosely knew what a nightmare was.

Ratchet got them sometimes, though he wouldn't admit it until Deadlock made it clear the lack of context was freaking him out a little.

The way Ratchet explained it was that it was essentially a way for the brain to process excess information. Basically the same as defrag but with some weird human side effects because of course there were weird human side effects.

Like whatever was currently happening to Hot Rod.

From previous experience, nudging Ratchet awake usually resulted in a snort or other cut of vocalization. But if there was anything Deadlock had learned it was that Hot Rod did not do anything quietly.

Ratchet was still sleeping on his recliner, but there was a subtle shifting and a pinch to his face. Not a nightmare, Deadlock had learned the pattern, but something was bothering the medic and it threatened to wake him from his much needed rest.

Help.

The wave of desperate emotion spilled out like an overfilled cup.

Right, Hod Rods EM field was freakishly strong. It was restrained for now but Deadlock dreaded what it’d feel like if the dam broke.

He watched Ratchet stir again and. . . Wait.

Could humans pick up on EM fields?

Can’t a deaf mech still feel the vibrations of a song? Couldn’t a blind one still feel the warmth of the sun?

What if?

Deadlock moved as silently as death. Cupping a servo over the pilot. He stopped restricting his field and focused.

Calm.

Hot Rod made another almost vocalization. Like he was trying to yell without enough air.

Calm. Deadlock tried again. Comforting anyone was so, so far from his normal area of expertise. Did he even know what calm was supposed to feel like? What safe was supposed to be? He wracked his memories as Deadlock and abandoned that immediately.

Calm. Safe. Ratchet.

Okay. Deadlock didn’t know how to comfort someone, but Ratchet did. He focused his field again, this time on trying to mimic what he always felt from Ratchet as closely as possible.

Care. Fondness.

Deadlock vented slowly. It felt hollow coming from him. The new field was there but it was weak. Unsupported. Deadlock worried his lip with a fang. Hot Rod simmered.

He vented slowly. Deadlock opened the box at the back of his mind named Drift. He knew what he needed. Everything else could stay but he needed this one feeling. Just one.

The stars were out over Dead End. A brown out had swept the area, leaving everything in the dark. Drift didn’t know the sky could look like that.

The others were gathered around in silent awe. Nobody dared to break the spell. Tomorrow, everything would suck again. Scraping money for the next meal, the next hit, the next chance to live just a little longer.

But for a few fleeting moments, Drift was okay. They were all okay. Because the circles of light around Cybertron said so.

Peace.

Drift let the feeling fill his field. Calm and fondness meant something again.

He thought of his time with Ratchet and Hot Rod. Finding something new in himself.

Protect.

It was like smoke clearing all at once. Hot Rod exhaled deeply in his sleep, field going soft and gentle.

He kept it up, at some point his engine had started purring without him knowing. A pleasant white noise within the hangar. They were okay. Everyone he cared about was okay. He felt peace. Just for now. Just for them.

“Didn’t know you could do that.”

Ratchets voice was thick with sleep. One eye barely cracked to look at him.

“Me too.”

—————————

Part 1

This is long and it’s getting late. Deadlock has an emotional breakthrough and Hot Rod dreams about I dunno, pancakes or something.

-SSTP

Infinitely entertained by the mental image of Ratchet trying to pick someone who he can trust but who will also get along with Kid. And then looking at Hot Rod and being like Yep. That one.

ALSO. Hot Rod having an EM field equivalent of a nuclear fucking reactor is just so👌👌👌 YES HE WOULD. ABSOLUTELY YES HAHAHKFNGM

I never get tired of reading about Roddy and Lock losing their last brain cells when they are together. Anon. Anon look at me. I LOVE YOU ANON. I WILL CHERISH THIS PIECE FOREVER IT BROUGHT ME THE UNMEASURABLE AMOUNT OF JOY THANK YOU FOR SHARING IT

[primussavethesemechs]

THIS THIS THIS THIS

I LOVE exploring Ratchets medical takes on humanity and how his naturally grumpy demeanor becomes more agitated and worried the more he learns about how fragile and odd our biology is.

I think it’s mostly just that I like forcing him to confront how much he cares about those close to him, especially the ones he gripes about most (i.e. the kids) but genuinely also human biology is FUCKED and i think it’s funny for that old man to develop an ulcer over every new Fun Fact he learns about how our bodies try to kill us at every turn.

After the dark energon debacle ratchet decides to study what exactly are things that can kill humans, so as to make sure that doesn't happen. He discovers the answer is pretty much everything, including the very oxygen we need to breathe and stuff. I envision quite the rant!

jkasdklas oh man Ratchet doing actual indepth research on the human body would cause him to start openly day drinking ok.

not just bc of how we discovered some of this shit we know, but also the fact that our bodies are a hot heaping mess of fucked up evolution and adaptations.

our anxiety was meant for when life was lived super fast and we had to always be on the look out for A Hungry Animal. some of us have a different sleep rhythm that means we don’t sleep when we’re supposed to at night bc their ancestors were the Night Watch.

everything can kill us and most of us still actively partake in the thing that is harming us.

lactose intolerant people me still eat ice cream. caffeine. peanuts.

some people do extreme sports where if one things goes wrong your dead.

other people SWIM WITH DEADLY SEA CREATURES. FOR FUN.

there’s organs inside us that can actively harm us, we can lose up to like, 60% of our liver and it will grow back.

Ratchet studies what can kill us, which is practically everything on the planet, and has to be held back from actively wrapping the kids in bubble wrap and keeping them in a nice padded pen so he can keep an eye on them.

then he learns the things that humans can survive and he wants to cry.

these tiny, frail, brightly lived creatures can take so much in their lives, and come out the other side damaged and lost, but alive.

we have one of the best self repair systems on the planet for healing injuries (when it works properly).

so yeah. Ratchet freaks out when he learns the full scope of just how dangerous our lives are on the daily.

but then he’s in awe of what we do in spite of that.

[revelboo]

Carrying the pet headcanons

IDW Megatron x Reader, IDW Starscream x Reader, IDW Wheeljack x Reader, yeah, I’m not listing them all, but just how each mech handles/carries a human.

Starscream

• Carries you cradled against his chassis, servos curled partially around you. Tucks you inside his canopy if there are any other mechs about to hide you. He’s not exactly ashamed of you, more worried about you getting hurt to spite him. With how many enemies he’s made, he fully expects treachery. When he does allow you to ride on his shoulder, one big hand is always up, not touching you, but ready to grab you. It’s easy enough to tell he’s not the happiest with you perched there despite your insistence on being able to see. His wings stay aggressively up the whole time until you take pity on him to climb into his hand.

Thundercracker

• Doesn’t just grab you and it’s honestly adorable as he kneels and offers a huge hand to try and coax you to him like you might a stray dog. You’re pretty sure in his alien mind, you are a stray dog, but the novelty of not just being grabbed makes that realization more amusing than insulting. And his expression when you do willingly come to him to be picked up is too cute. He’s not above bribing you to him with little odds and ends he finds, including food of dubious origin.

Megatron

• Cages you carefully between his hands like a fragile moth he wants to inspect without hurting. For such a huge mech, he’s shockingly gentle with you. A lot of it is guilt, that dark tide constantly threatening to pull him under. Finds your presence soothing, but because of that same guilt, will pass you off to another caretaker given a chance. Can’t trust himself to not accidentally break you. He feels he definitely shouldn’t be entrusted with fragile things when all he’s good at is destruction. But he does love those quiet moments of contact, deserving of them or not.

Ratchet

• Picks you up to almost absentmindedly move you from getting under ped or if you’re just in his way while he’s working. He’s careful about how he handles you, but uncomfortable with just holding you like a favorite pet. Gets the award for being painfully awkward when he does have to carry you, because he’s sure you don’t enjoy being carried like a sparkling. He’s sure you resent it even if you never say a word. You don’t mind when it’s him picking you up. Those clever hands are so gentle with you and the longer he has to carry you, the more uncomfortable and gruff he gets.

Skywarp

• Absolute menace. Carries you like a toddler with their first kitten. One hand too tight around your middle as you hang upside down, because why carry you right side up when you change colors upside down? The more you struggle and swear, the funnier he finds it. Plus, he’s learning so many new, fun words and phrases to use. Most likely to accidentally, on purpose, drop you.

Whirl

• Not a lot better. He seizes you around the middle with one claw and carries you hanging awkwardly face down, arms and legs dangling and your hair in your face. Sometimes swings his arms, because your miserable groaning and complaints are too funny. Won’t hurt you intentionally despite acting like a jerk. Actually pretty protective of you and by his twisted logic, no one else is allowed to mess with you. Only him.

Wheeljack

• Doesn’t really carry you around unless there are other bots about. Honestly, isn’t sure how you feel about being picked up, but you’re so tiny compared to them and he gets anxious whenever he sees you walking in a hall with other Autobots. It doesn’t matter that he knows you’re in no danger. Those times, he makes a line straight for you, scooping you into his servos for your own safety. Half the time, he scares you silly because you hear running, heavy peds behind you, then you’re being grabbed. He means well and you appreciate how much he worries, but, really, you’re fine. The others see you. No one is going to step on you.

Soundwave

• Has a fondness for small things and even though you’re hardly one of his cassettes, will pick you up place you in his chest compartment if he finds you wandering about unsupervised. Being nabbed and dropped into the dark absolutely terrifies you at first, but you can see a dim glow in front of you and hear the hum of the big mech’s inner workings around you. It’s a surprise to both of you when you manage to fall asleep inside him. That cements it for him, he adopts you.

Bonus: Soundwave’s cassettes

• Frenzy seizes you around the middle under your arms and carries you around like a younger sibling, your toes dragging as you squirm to get away. Rumble would rather grab you by a leg and drag you kicking and protesting behind him just to see how long he can get away with it before Soundwave intervenes. As protective as the huge mech is, he’s surprisingly tolerant of his cassette’s mischief. You’re not being physically hurt? He’s allowing it. Cassetticons squabble- it’s how you set your boundaries. More than once, Lazerbeak has dive-bombed you, claws snagging the back of your shirt so he can lift you a foot or so up off the ground, because your terrified yelp sliding into angry swearing is too funny to him. May have dropped you once when your shirt just tears in his claws. Ravage prefers to nudge you along in the direction he wants you to go, but isn’t above carefully gripping your arm in his jaws to firmly tug you along if you’re resisting. Oddly enough, you grow resigned to your “older siblings” fast enough. You don’t really have a choice.

[t-horn-n]

— cucumber cool

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader (female)

genre: fluff 

summary: simon carries a picture of you in his wallet from your school days.

word count: 1 106

On the day you graduated from secondary school, you lightly punched Simon Riley on the shoulder and said, “Don’t be a stranger.” 

He remembers how you looked then.  Your hair was down and curled, for once, and you had on a dusting of makeup because you promised your grandmother a nice photo from the event.  It was a rather temperate June late morning and now, when he thinks back to that day, he remarks upon how young you both were.  

You were going out to lunch with your parents to celebrate going to uni and he was taking his kid brother out to grab a greasy slice of pizza somewhere before he went off to basic training.  

He knew that it was more likely than not that he’d never see you again.  All he really wanted to do was to be a grunt in the military and fade away.  He was sure that you would get your degree and do something meaningful.  Or if not meaningful, interesting, at least.  

The two of you started off as friends of circumstance: you were in the same film photography class because he needed another art credit to graduate and you needed a class to fill up your schedule.  He liked the soft ratcheting sound the camera made as it moved the roll of film, too.  

“Hey, nice boots,” you told him on the first day of the class and the rest is history.  

Now, he has a picture of you in his wallet that he’s been carrying for at least a decade.  Its edges are frayed and discolored from years of rubbing against loose bills and coins.  You’re a little awkward looking in it.  You still had your baby face.  

The only reason why he has the silly thing is because you goaded him into putting one of the extra prints you had from a portrait assignment into his wallet thinking there was absolutely no way he would follow through.  What kind of sixteen-year-old boy walks around carrying a photo of his friend next to his student card?

He just shrugged in that way he often did—a kid of action rather than words—and slid your photo into his uncle’s hand-me-down wallet.  Done and done, cool as a cucumber.  

You laughed to conceal your surprise.  Whatever you felt in that moment was wedged between embarrassment and excitement.  What person doesn’t delight in being liked?  It made something in your chest puff up.  

By now, though, whatever has kept your image with him all these years later is between Simon and his own affections.  Every time he opens his wallet to retrieve cash, he almost surprises himself.  On some occasions, usually after particularly punishing missions, he’ll pull the picture out and look at the way your lips stretched into a smile.  He’ll follow the lines of your facial features and wonder how much they’ve changed since then.

On a snowy Tuesday in December, you meet by chance at a deli.  He’s off duty for the next two weeks and you’re on your lunch break picking up sandwiches for yourself and a friend at work.  You approach him first, from behind, but he knows you’re there even before you greet him.  The air around you smells the same way it did in school.  Now, it feels like walking nostalgia.

“Simon!” you say happily.

He knows that he isn’t all that similar looking to his sixteen-year-old self, so he wonders how you recognize him.  Funnily enough, you were actually planning to go down the street for takeaway salads, but you spotted him in the deli’s front window.  Well, you saw his back and found a persistent sense of familiarity in the curve of his shoulders.  It was awkward really: you stopped in the middle of the path and waited until you figured out who was standing on the other side of the glass.

Time is very strange.  A long time has passed since he last saw you.  He knows that.  Everything that has happened in the past decades has moved him consistently further from his adolescent self.  That, and he can see the ways you’ve changed.  You look older, certainly.  But there’s also evidence of the passage of time that’s intangible.  Maturity.  Experience.  

“Hello,” he replies.  Then, “How are you?”

You’ve grown out of your awkwardness, he notices.  You chat with him easily as if you hadn’t realized that it’s been years since you last saw him, not just a weekend.  You’ve heeded your own advice: “Don’t be a stranger.”  And he tries his best, too, but you don’t mind that he struggles to make eye contact or that he’s slow to respond with as much enthusiasm that you seem to have.  After you’ve both received your sandwiches, you part ways with your cell number in his phone and a promise to meet up for lunch late next week.

He has a vague sense of whiplash as he chews his lunch.  It feels sort of like the time that’s passed has been condensed.  

You find the picture when you two meet up the next week at this restaurant that has you hooked on its dipping sauces.  You’re sitting by the window and he’s sitting next to you in the booth.  It reminds you of how you used to sit in the cafeteria.  He was already rather large for his age back then so he would sit at the end of the bench so he could angle his knees out from under the table.  

You trick him into letting you out to pay by claiming you have to use the restroom.  But when he catches on to your plans, he throws his wallet at you.  

“You’re trusting me with this?” you joke.  “I could take it and run.”

“You’ve had too many fries to make it very far,” he quips softly. 

Laughing, you say, “Well, thank you for lunch.”

Your laugh hasn’t changed a bit.  

At first, you think that the little white card tucked in the pocket of his wallet is a coupon or a picture of a cat or something.  

“Oh my God,” you say as you make your way back to the table where Simon is picking the rest of your fries off the plate.  “You still have it.”

“Hm?” he grunts.              

You wave the little rectangular photo between your fingers.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, a little shyly.  “Never had a reason to take it out, I guess.”

“Damn, I don’t think I have any of my old photos from that class anymore,” you lament while leaning over to grab a fry.

“Hey, you’re getting grease all over it,” he grumbles. 

— tags

@thecursebreaker

— m. list

[kingghoost]

Posting this Cybertronian Ratchet design because all the drawings I have ready forward use/reference it ^^

I made it awhile ago and it may not be super creative, but I actually didn't wanna change his design too much to portray how he himself doesn't change as a person (not in a bad way, he holds firmly to his beliefs and has a strong character💞)

I wrote a little backstory, too!! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

" Long before the war, Ratchet was one of the many medics stationed in Kaon with the task of nursing fallen gladiators back to health. Though he was considered the best, many feared his temperamental attitude, especially his own patients. Despite the coincidence, Megatronus and Ratchet had never actually interacted face to face, although they were aware of each other's existence. That is, until they had both been introduced through their mutual friend, Orion Pax.

With the little free time he had, Ratchet was one to frequently travel to Iacon to visit the Hall of Records, whether to spend his time reading or doing research on personal projects. Then, he met Orion at his workplace, and the two quickly formed a strong bond. When they weren't hanging out in person, they would keep contact via comms (sorta like online friends.) One fateful day, Orion had taken some time off of work to visit Ratchet in Kaon, coincidentally at the same time Megatronus had started to make a name for himself and his cause. This resulted in him witnessing one of Megatronus' speeches live, thus allowing them to meet and form a partnership as well.

In a way, Orion Pax changed Ratchet. Being surrounded by corruption and oppression from the caste system where it was at its worst, Ratchet had given up any hopes of a better Cybertron. However, Orion's altruistic nature inspired him, guided him to prove his mettle in the Great War, and binded him to Orion's—now Optimus'—side for millennia, and many more to come. "

Corny? I'm not sure. The writing's not all that good because of its age, but getting the point across is all that matters..

I really love the idea of a Kaonian Ratchet 💞💞

Ratchet being an indirect cause to Orion and Megatronus meeting is super interesting to me as well... do you think after all that happened, he feels at fault? In the episode where Ratchet was telling everyone about Optimus' backstory, he seemed to have nothing but bad things to say about Megatron, so they probably never got along since the beginning...

[enigmatist17]

This AU by @keferon has been burrowing in my brain

A03 -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/60738373

---

In hindsight, Jazz realized he was stupid.

Unabashedly, completely stupid.

No one back home would have called a mecha pilot stupid, not with all the pain and training it took to even have a chance to look at a suit, but he was! He shouldn't have stayed out too long on the mission that had changed his fate, shouldn't have waved at that stupid satellite, but he did, and was taken far from home and brought to a place that was slowly becoming his second.

Cybertron.

Jazz was stupid when he decided to keep the fact that he wasn't truly one of them to himself, realizing eventually he was as alien as they were. He was stupid when he began to work with the Cybertronians rather than find a way back home, fighting the things that had brought him out deep into space in an effort to stave off homesickness. Oh, Jazz was so fucking stupid when he began to make friends with these Cybertronians, laughing at jokes he didn't quite understand and listening to their woes as he settled into their strange but oddly Earthen-like way of life.

What made him the most idiotic lifeform this side of the galaxy, however, was falling for one bot in particular.

Prowl had been the very first alien he'd met, speaking to him in that beautiful Cybertronian melody (language but whatever) that cut right through the pain he'd been in. Call it an inevitability, call it destiny, Prowl was the first one he'd met, and Jazz made damn sure he'd make a friend out of him. Sure, it was hard at first as Jazz had to not only decode an entire alien language but learn how to mimic it through his mecha, but once he got the ball rolling, it was a breeze. Prowl had been uncomfortable with him at first, which, all things aside, he didn't quite blame the mech for being suspicious of a strange mech, but over time he'd won him over. Of course, his stupidity would eventually catch up mere days after he had finally worked up the courage to actually tell Prowl how he felt, because the universe knew how stupid he was.

It came in the form of a Quintesson blade catching him in the wrong area, slicing right through his mecha's chest armor and right into his piloting seat. It took a second to register that something was wrong, the connection with his suit fizzling out when Jazz felt the pain from his actual body slamming into him like a truck. He knew pulling the blade out was stupid, but Jazz needed it out right now ohfuckithurtsstopthepain -

He's not sure how long he was out, but he knew the jig was up the moment he started coming to.

Muted voices sounded out from around him, some laced with anger, others with curiosity, and only one with concern. Jazz knew it was Prowl's, and judging from the finger (it's a digit come on now idiot) that gently poked his side, he was most likely unsure of what to think at the moment. With a sigh, Jazz slowly cracked open his eyes, finally taking in the mech he'd come to love with his own eyes for the first time.

"Hiya Prowler." His voice is scratchy with dehydration, the tactician and everyone else in the room going silent at his voice. "What's shakin'?"

"Jazz?" The wings (doorwings man come on) he spent hours watching twitched in discomfort, helm tilted as Jazz tried to sit up, only to hiss and slump back with a groan. "It is not wise to move right now, your...you are heavily damaged."

"Gettin' stabbed does that to ya." The attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, but no one is really sure how to react, so they don't call him out on it. He can see Ironhide and Optimus staring at him from behind Prowl, the Prime looking mystified, while Ironhide seemed to be going back and forth from awe to suspicion to uncertainty.

"Pulling the blade out instead of waiting for help was extremely poor judgment," Ratchet grumbled from the other side of Jazz, the medic giving him a grumpy look. "However, if you hadn't, I would not have found...you."

"Where's my mecha?" Jazz slowly moved to pull the scrap of cloth he'd been covered in back, honestly surprised with how neatly his midsection had been bandaged, or whatever the strange gel substitute was. "Oh...huh."

"Your frame's in a private med bay, I've been able ta repair some of it so far." Wheeljack moved into view with a cheerful wave, having picked up the motion from Jazz. "I've got ta tell ya, I'm impressed with all the work that's gone into it!"

"Thanks." Jazz gently poked at the gel after smiling at the scientist, eyeing the wound underneath with a sick sort of fascination. "I was expectin' this to be worse."

"Some of our organic allies were able to help to an extent, but your biology was only so similar." Ratchet shook his head, clearly displeased. "You're not going anywhere anytime soon, so I would get comfortable. In fact, I want everyone out so Jazz can get some rest, everyone but Prowl." Despite all the questions most of the high command had, Ratchet's word was law, so the medbay emptied until it was just Jazz and Prowl.

"Do you require anything?" Prowl's voice was the same as it always was, but Jazz had come to know him enough that he was tense and sorely out of his element.

"I could use some water, but I can go without." Those wings raise a fraction of an inch (or he's guessing, it's hard to tell without his enhanced sight sigh), and he winces. "Y-You're fine Prowler, I'm fine."

"You are not fine." Prowl grabbed a nearby stool and dragged it over, sitting at the head of the bed that seemed too large for the tiny organic. "I do not understand how you can say that."

"Pain is an old friend, I just...normally have access ta the proper help, ya know?" Jazz adjusted himself to have a better view of his mech, heart skipping a beat when Prowl reached over to gently help, the metal cool against his back. "Thanks."

"Jazz? May I ask you something?" His servo remained where it was, moving to brush against the side of Jazz's face with the greatest care he could manage. "Why did you not tell us?"

"Well...I'm stupid." Jazz leaned into the touch with a soft hum, Prowl's head tilting at the noise. "I figured you were all piloted mecha like myself, just with more money poured inta ya, but by the time I figured out you weren't...it was too late?" Prowl didn't need to know the reason he'd vanished for two days was to deal with the mental breakdown he had at the news, not his proudest moment.

"Why have you not sought to return home?" Prowl watched as several microexpressions crossed the org- Jazz's face, brown optics flickering between his face and the berth as he struggled with the answer.

"Honestly? Besides fightin' these bastards who attack my home on their turf? You."

Oh

Wings taut with tension relaxed as the information was processed, a soft click escaping his vocalizer as Prowl looked down at the person who had turned his life around.

"What I said to you a few days ago? It's true, every damn word of it." Jazz leaned his head to press his dermas to Prowl's digit, and idly, he wondered what it must taste like to an organic. "I fell for ya, heart an' soul."

"...what is a heart?" The laugh that burst from Jazz's dermas nearly made Prowl jump, the sound familiar as it was strange without the vocalizer in Jazz's frame. He's not sure why the question is so amusing, but then again, Jazz had always had a peculiar sense of humor, so all he could do was give a rare smile to his organic as the tension in the room slowly faded away.

"Ah Prowler, always known how ta make me feel better." The ache from the laugh aside, Jazz smiled at seeing Prowl's doorwings completely relaxed, the good deed of the day accomplished.

"I do try." The Praxian leaned forward to gently press helm against Jazz's, giving a soft purr as he cycled his optics off. "I am relieved you are safe, when I saw your energon staining Ratchet's servos..."

"I'm a stubborn guy, one blade isn't takin' me out." Jazz reached over with his better arm to touch Prowl's cheek, the metal warm against his hand. "Got too much ta live for."

"Indeed."

Ratchet returned a breem later to find the organic deep in recharge, Prowl cradling Jazz in his servos. Some unfamiliar thick fabric was resting between Jazz and the limb, cushioning the injured man far better than the fabric someone had found in a storage crate, judging by the lack of stuttered venting they had heard earlier. Prowl said nothing to the medic as he continued to murmur to Jazz as he read through a data pad, looking down occasionally to watch the subtle rise and fall of Jazz's chassis. Prowl still surprised the older bot with his dedication to work despite holding his injured partner, only shaking his helm as he dropped off some energon before disappearing into his office for his own work. There was going to be a lot of chaos when Jazz would have the chance to talk to everyone else, the news already spreading like a virus throughout the army, but that was a problem for another cycle.

For now, Jazz was resting with the mech he'd fallen for, and as far as Prowl was concerned, nothing would interrupt his partner's rest.

[mechdyke-after-hours]

HEAD MEDIC

a ficlet for @cyberrose2001 and @azu-recentbrainrot . this is for u guys. U both infected me with him. I'm gonna sue. >:(

Ratchet/Human!Reader cunnilingus

painfully soft and fluffy compared to my usual writing. mostly just him eating you out until you fall asleep. mech was HUNGRY.

word count: 1,103

Ratchet was a bit of a hardass most of the time, and most people wouldn't deny that. But good god, he was incredible in bed. You'd heard stories about his party ambulance days, even seen photo and video evidence at some point much to your (very aroused) delight. Sure he was a little older and more battle hardened now, but he retained the passion. Not to mention… the battle scars only added to the appeal.

You spent more time than not at the autobot base. The other mechs had become more than accustomed to you at this point, and you'd even consider them all some of your closest friends. But, even though you loved them to pieces, your favourite time was when they were out on missions, or patrol.

It usually took no more than 10 minutes for Ratchet to start gently running his practiced servos over your form, and no more than 15 minutes for his mouth to be on you.

Today was one of those days.

His servos wrapped around your waist, slowly sliding up to caress your chest softly, squeezing the plush flesh softly. You immediately lean into his touches with an affectionate hum.

“Touchy already? It's been less than 5 minutes, you're so impatient…” You turn around so you can glance up into his optics. His usually bright, kind eyes have darkened ever so slightly and he has what can only be described as a cocky smirk on his face.

“I've been waiting cycles to have you all to myself again…” He mumbled, gently lifting you into his arms. Despite having mass displaced, he was still around three feet taller than you. He pressed kisses to your neck as he walked you to his berth, biting your shoulder gently, his dentae leaving a small red mark. You gasp in surprise, biting your lip to hold back a more embarrassing noise. He lets out a soft laugh “Primus… you're so soft and small… and so fragging sensitive.”

The medic laid you on the lightly padded berth, his servos trailing over your body with practiced delicacy. If there was one Cybertronian to trust with your squishy human form, it was Ratchet. Digits pulled at your clothes, fabric being pulled off with surprising urgency. He wanted you, and he wanted you now.

Your underwear were pulled off quickly, the damp fabric gently held between two digits before he slipped it into his subspace with a grin. You couldn't help but blush, and you felt yourself get wetter.

Ratchet's servos gently pushed your thighs apart, a digit trailing up your slick folds to gently ghost over your clit. He used two digits to spread you open, examining the glistening threads with a hum. “Dirty thing… you're absolutely soaked…” He held up his digits, spreading them apart. Strings of fluids practically dripped down his fingers onto the berth below. “and here you were calling me impatient?” He tutted disapprovingly, reaching up to slide his digits between your lips and into your mouth. You let out a shocked gasp, the slightly sweet, bitter and salty taste of your own fluids mixing with the sharp metallic taste of his plating on your tongue.

Ratchet's digits slipped out from your mouth, reaching back between your legs to rub your own saliva against you, before he leaned down to drag his glossa up your folds. Your back arched, one of your hands clasping over your mouth instinctively. His servos wrapped around your thighs, pulling you as close as possible. He moved his glossa against you like your slick was the finest energon.

Your legs clamp around his helm, and he growls. “That's it sweetspark… you taste so good…” His optics flicker as you meet his gaze, and you can feel him smiling against you. His glossa flicks against your clit, and you yelp. He chuckles again, one servo gently kneading your thigh as the other slides up higher. One large metal digit gently teases your opening, slowly inching its way inside. His glossa lapping against your clit the whole time.

His fingers are massive. Even in his mass displaced frame, his servos easily cover your entire abdomen. One of his digits feels like it could easily be the size of two of your own. The stretch isn't painful, but by god is it a stretch. His digit pumps slowly, but skillfully. He hits every spot inside of you with a surgical and practiced precision. You wouldn't be surprised if he mapped out all your sweet spots and kept a guide in his memory bank for times just like this. Which, to be honest, is a very Ratchet thing to do. He was a master of bringing you to your peak almost embarrassingly quickly. The way he looked up at you with that fucking look in his optics was not helping.

Your lower stomach twists, your thigh muscles clenching and twitching. You squeeze your legs around his helm tighter, and you can feel yourself clenching around his digit. You're so close. So painfully close. “H-hah… Ratchet…” You can barely recognise your own voice with how desperate you sound, and he chuckles softly.

“There, there sweet thing… you're taking my digit so well…” He mumbles, curling his finger up just right. His thrusts increase in speed, hitting your g-spot with each movement. His free servo moves up to your abdomen, pressing down slightly in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His engine purrs. “That's right… overload on my glossa for me sweetspark…”

You do just that.

With an embarrassingly loud cry of his name, your thighs wrap around his helm even tighter, to the point you're almost definitely bruised. You grind against his intake entirely unconsciously. He groans as he works you through your orgasm, relishing in the taste of your orgasm against his glossa. Your breathing slowly returns to normal as you relax your legs, trembling slightly. “F-fucking hell…” You curse, pushing the hair out of your face.

He chuckled again, pressing a quick kiss to your slightly overstimulated clit before he pulled away. His derma glistened with a mix of oral lubricants and your own fluids. “Good job, sweetspark. You're always so good for me.” He moved up to lay next to you, pulling you close to his chassis. His engine rumbled softly as he gently petted your hair, rather affectionately.

You were half asleep by the time he slowly stood up from the berth. He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, mumbling something that you couldn't quite hear, before he headed off back to the main room, leaving you to nap peacefully.