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eminemily05 · 6 months ago

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Well, I did it. I finally cracked and wrote for Ratchet. And an inspired fic, no less

I wanted to give one of my pieces (Kissy Times ) a way that was more open to any readers/viewers. While also having fun building around the moment itself.

I hope I was able to capture the grumpy guy's personality well enough, and I do hope you all enjoy. And it gets a bit more suggestive towards the end, just a warning

This work is 2.2k words and roughly proofread...I may have issues.

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It’s a damn good thing the kids aren’t at base to witness this.

That’s the only thought on your mind as a metal servo slips under your shirt. The touch is gentle, hesitant even. Yet, its owner seems anything but at the moment. As mesh lips slot against yours, the faint rumble of an engine reverberates off the metal surfaces of the Autobot base. Steam slips through the seams of alloy plating, nearly unnoticeable biolights flickering beneath armor plates.

Of course, the feeling isn’t nearly as incredible as the fact of just whose servo is wandering your heated skin.

Ratchet, mass displaced, yet still towering, had cornered you off to a section of the medbay. His back turned towards the main room so he could keep you from any prying optics that did manage to sneak in. Not that he was even focused on sensing whether any of the team witnessed this moment. All his attention diverted to the melting putty of human against his frame. To which he quickly responded with a supporting servo along the nape of your neck. Taking care to not pinch any skin between the seams of his digits as he cupped it with practiced precision.

Your hands found purchase along the seams of his warm plating. One settling on his shoulder pauldron. The other, gently cupping his audial–which wiggled happily–and pulling him closer into the embrace. Soft puffs of steam warming your fingers from beneath his frame.

Internally, his scanner was pinging off repeatedly with warning signals for your current state. Easily, it picked up the shift of your breath, the uptick of your bodily temperature, and the steady increase of your heart rate as he practically stole the air from your lungs. His frame pressed flush to your trembling form and heated form. Yet, the feeling from your miniscule and weak EM field told him it was nothing to worry about.

Well, aside from the obvious–and very much annoying–human limits compared to his own alien species. Curse the universe for doing this to you.

Setting a shaking hand against his chassis, you gave a firm–yet gentle–push. It took him a moment to pick up on your silent plea, and he pulled back with a hiss of his pistons. Engine rattling unhappily at the separation. But, your comfort always came first.

Immediately, he was checking you over. A worried click of his vocalizer settling between you. “I…wasn’t too much, was I..?” His bright blue optics dimmed slightly and his finials perked. His sensors hadn’t picked up any physical discomfort, but mentality was always a fickle thing.

Maybe he read your field wrong? He contemplated, It’s not like it’s his fault it was so fragging hard to pick up on.

Struggling to even get your brain to boot back up, you didn’t even notice the fact that the bot in front of you was having a mini crisis. Scared that scrap, he broke the human. How was he supposed to explain this to the team?

You were absolutely starstruck, your brain sailing high in the clouds on the wings of pure euphoria. When was the last time you had even felt something that good? That kiss had been so far out of this world–pun intended–that your mind was having a bit of a hard time coming back out of the stars. I’m sorry, but too much? You thought silently as his words finally floated into the mush of your hazy thoughts. This man cannot be serious.

A repeated firm pat against your cheek brought you back. Crash landing your shuttle of daydreams right back down to the hard, serious surface of reality. You blinked a couple times before finally looking up at him. Him and his–very clearly–annoyed expression.

“It would be helpful if you could actually answer me, I do hope you know,” His finals twitched in slight, harmless, agitation. He wasn’t actually mad, just worried. Maybe he wasn’t always able to show it in the best way, but you had known him long enough to learn his tells.

Malleable metal creased slightly under his optical ridges in silent concern. Dimmed optics diligently scanned over your body for any sign of discomfort. Servos drifting over your skin for anything out of place. He cared through actions best, not words.

You couldn’t help the teasing tone that left your mouth, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, then maybe you shouldn’t take my breath away so easily,” You gave the antenna of his back kibble a slight flick, drawing a stutter from his engine, before wrapping your arms up and around his helm. Messing him was child’s play.

Panic flickered across his features for just a moment. Plating hissing as it rose in stress, his digits gripping as his optics zeroed in on your chest. While generally perverted, you could tell he was checking whether your lungs had actually collapsed.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you probably wouldn’t be talking if they had.

“Take your breath away?!” His tone turned frantic, engine roaring loud and causing his frame to vibrate against you, “I didn’t mean to deprive you of air, oh I am a fo–”

Fortunately, his concerned ranting was cut short when he saw the amused look on your features. Suddenly, his plating drooped with a click and hiss of steam as he gave you a clearly un-amused glare in return.

“You were using one of your incredibly annoying Earth idioms, weren’t you. Need I remind you to not use those sort of phrases with a Doctor. I would feel this is obvious.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you dragged a finger along one of his seams. Watching his finals perk slightly at the touch. He seemed to relax…albeit slightly. But hey! Slightly with Ratchet, in any capacity, was a celebration of its own!

“Loosen up Doc–” His wheels spun with displeasure at the nickname, finials flicking down, “You really need to stop thinking so much about it. Oh, and learn a bit more about human culture and phrases. They get so much worse from there.” Ratchet hearing the phrase ‘shit fire and save matches’ would probably send him into a spark-attack and a tirade you didn’t even want to imagine explaining to him…

…Although, the idea did seem quite amusing.

“And fill my processor with useless, and primitive, information? Puh-lease. I’d rather build a space bridge from scrap, than even attempt to understand you humans.” He grumbles, looking at you over. Clearly, still apprehensive about your physical wellbeing

“You still never answered my question, you know.”

He really was worried about you, wasn’t he? The old softie…

Sighing, you gently rubbed along one of his finials. His helm shifted to follow the touch as you answered, “Ratchet, that was probably the best damn kiss I’ve ever had. Too good, in fact.” You hummed, smirking at him. Mirth sparkled in your eyes. “Have any more experiences you’d like to ‘share’ with me?”

The question was supposed to be playful, a simple teasing jab at his age and probably lack of experience.

….Apparently, that was not the case.

“Not that you could handle.” He scoffed, the corners of his dermas twitching in a hidden smirk. Plates shifted as steam rolled through them. Your eyes widened like saucers at a sudden peak at his very much tucked away personality. Like a tiger eyeing its next meal through the chain-link of its enclosure.

This fucker! You thought, suddenly feeling like a kid who just watched the last of their favorite treat get swallowed up. How dare he keep sexy secrets from me.

You sent him a deadly glare, an unappealing whine slipping from your throat. “That’s not fair, Ratch!”

The servo under your shirt shifted upwards slightly, digits caressing the curve of your spine. A breathy keen replaced your quick forming tirade and you couldn’t help leaning into the touch. His expression said it all for you. The medic knew exactly what he was doing.

Then again, he was a quick learner.

“What’s the phrase again? Life’s not fair?”

Oh, how you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. The digits dancing along your back didn’t seem to want to help your stuttering mind from its predicament.

“Nevermind, no more human phrases for you.” You grumbled, recovering quickly. Knowledge was power, and human knowledge in Ratchet’s servos was like playing with fire. His knowledge of you–your ins and outs–was like dancing through hellflame, though.

Breath suddenly hitching as he leaned in close, he gently bumped his helm against your brow bone. Taking care to shift his chevrons out of the way, lest he accidentally stab you. He moved to speak–which was probably more stupid snark from his stupid (handsome) face in that stupid (attractive) tone–and you instantly took the opportunity to jolt forward. Slotting your lips against his, stalling his engine and actually drawing a surprised whoop of his sirens. The small snort of amusement you gave was incredibly short lived, as his servo gave a gentle tug of your hair.

Your gasp, with the following undercurrent of a soft moan, gave him just enough of a chance to slip his glossa past your lips. The taste of iron and static charge sat against your tongue, and your eyes fluttered closed. Any sane person surely wouldn’t find enjoyment in such a strange mix of taste. But at this point, sane wasn’t even part of the equation. Not when you got a chance at riding with (on) the party ambulance. The grouchy, moody, but incredibly skilled and fine wine, agedly handsome party ambulance.

Imagining a younger, college age version of this bot sent blood pumping straight between your legs. Fuck, Cybertron had been lucky to witness the glory of prime-time Ratchet. Young, Fast, Energetic, and definitely a great–

The ever learning and observing medic settled his servos down along your hips now. Applying skillful and perfect pressure that pulled soft whines and moans from your mouth, and took you from your fantastical thoughts. You’d revisit those later…in the safety of your room, with the comfort of your…toys.

A quick learner who knew–and catalogued–just where to touch to mold your mind into such hazy thoughts. As if he knew just what you were thinking. Like he was silently saying to you, ‘I may not be young, but don’t think I’ve lost the energy and spunk to break your brains.’ Or something like that. Though, that may have just been your own mind saying that to you. Then again…with magic hands McGee over here, your brain even struggled to make its silent snide comments.

It clung desperately to any rationale it still held, not that any of it would last long enough. Not with eons old, intelligent as fuck, alien medic man pressed right up against you. Rumbling frame and hissing joints steadily working to clog your brain and untense your body. Biolights flashing a very alluring, tantalizing, pattern beneath the cracks of his armor plating.

Just relax. They almost spoke to you. And damnit if you didn’t want to listen. Because you really really wanted to. You’d need to ask Ratchet about that later…when thinking wasn’t so hard…let alone speaking.

It probably would help if you didn’t have metal, and shockingly soft, lips moving so expertly against yours. Glossa slipping against your lips and pushing your own tongue down. Static sparkling deliciously against the roof of your mouth. A pleasant little buzz.

Ratchet pulled back just slightly, enough to look at your blissed out expression with a soft chuckle. He hasn’t seen that sort of effect since he was back in Medical School as a charged-up, naive mech. But by the gods, he still had it. And with a human, no less.

It made his wheels spin in pure excitement.

Thinking about it, the team wouldn't be back for a couple more groons. Having gone out on a scavenging mission for energon. And the old bot had needed a break for a good while. Optimus would certainly agree…

So, just this once, he supposed he’ll take what he deserves.

Settled in his reasoning, the aged mech slid his servos under your thighs and easily lifted you right up against the metal wall. Your back sat flush against it as his grip held you securely. The show of strength only caused your face to heat up significantly. Obviously, a human was like holding a bag of grapes compared to the metal these bots flung around regularly. But fuck if it wasn’t hot seeing how effortlessly Ratchet could fling you around.

Though you wished he'd just fling you into the nearest bed, this would do fine.

Locking his lips back up against yours, his engine rumbled loudly. Vibrating his entire frame against your body and sending pleasurable sensations down to the aching between your legs that so desperately needed some touch.

His vents and fans whirred at a deafening pace as his servos found purchase along your waist. Digits sunk gently into the plush skin as he held you pinned against the wall with his hips. Your legs settled along the runners of his hip guards and you just barely registered his antenna wagging at the movement. Like some overgrown, metal puppy. How adorable.

You silently thanked the gods that the kids weren’t here to witness this.

Unfortunately, that was the last sensible thought your brain could make before Ratchet’s skillful touch dipped into your shorts. Completely shattering any rational idea from that moment on. At that moment all you could think was,

Thank you Primus for crafting this hunk of a wonderfully handsome, and incredibly skilled man. But please…just don’t let him break me.

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mouseycometz · 6 months ago

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A Blooming Valentine’s Day (Armada Starscream/OC)

Word Count: 1,000+ Warnings: None! Plot: Starscream grows curious about Valentine's Day.

Inside the walls of the Autobot base, Starscream resided in his private sector, training with the star saber. He attempted to concentrate with narrowed optics and a firm grasp on the hilt of the powerful weapon. The sword glowed as he swung it, using his frame to balance himself correctly. With the proper stance, he nearly felt at one with the blade.

“Steady….”

Another strong movement.

‘Focus…”

And then, quite suddenly, the image of a certain woman emerged from the depths of his processor. The woman smiled, her green eyes flickering and her glasses twinkling in the sunlight. Starscream squeaked a little before frowning and releasing himself from his fighting stance. He huffed, watching as the mini-cons transformed to the floor. They beeped at him, curiously tilting their tiny helms at him.

“That’s enough training for today.”

Puzzled, they beeped again. Starscream smiled, endeared by their concern.

“I’m fine! No need to worry. Why not take a relaxing energy bath? You’ve earned it!”

With that, the mech made his leave, pretending not to hear their beeps behind him.

Starscream marched out of his quarters and into the main room of the base. Monitors buzzed and computers whined. In the distance, his gaze fluttered to Celeste. She worked at a nearby desk, conversing with Red Alert and the mini-cons, Short Circuit and Swindle. Before she could notice him, however, Starscream then overheard the human children walking near him.

“Hey, so, uh, Alexis, did you ask anyone to be your valentine yet?”

“You wish! Besides, even if I did, it’s none of your business!”

“Come on, Rad, you know how she plays hard to get!”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Carlos?”

Starscream paused, reflecting on their words. He blinked a few times, his wings giving a little twitch.

“Valentine?”

Apparently, he was too loud. Alexis stopped in her tracks and turned towards him.

“Oh, you don’t know what that is, do you?”

Next to her, Rad spoke, intrigued by the jet’s confusion.

“Well, basically, Valentine's Day is a day about love and showing appreciation for someone you care about.”

Starscream was unable to keep himself from feeling the slightest bit awkward, his spark pulsing at the thought of someone dear to him nearby.

“L…Love?”

Carlos folded his arms behind his head.

“Yeah, man, it’s too mushy for me.”

Still, the winged mech turned his helm slightly, catching the glimpses of red in Celeste’s hair.

“And...what is…asking someone to be your valentine?”

Alexis smiled at him.

“When you ask someone to be your valentine, you’re asking them to be your special partner during the holiday!”

Rad nodded.

“And don’t forget about the gift-giving!”

Starscream gawked, lowering himself to their level.

“What? Gifts?”

Evidently, there were more human customs than he initially realized.

Carlos laughed.

“Come on, man, do you seriously not know?”

Starscream gritted his denta, trying to act aloof but failing miserably. Noticing his shift in expressions, Alexis cocked her head at him.

“Is there…someone you want to ask to be your valentine, Starscream?”

He huffed, now standing from the three.

“No! Of course not. I have much better things to do than gift-giving on Valentine’s Day.”

From the corner of his optics, his gaze wavered to Celeste. She talked with Red Alert, flipping through the stack of papers on her desk. For a moment, he wondered how she would react to a gift of his own.

But what would she enjoy?

He glanced back at the children.

“But…when is Valentine’s Day?”

Days passed. After a week of tireless preparation, eyeing Celeste, and communicating with Alexis, Valentine’s Day finally arrived.

Starscream and Celeste traveled through a warp gate to their desired destination. It was a meadow, filled with swaying flowers, dazzling sunlight, and gentle breezes. Starscream chose the environment on purpose, recalling how Alexis stated that Celeste adored flora and fauna.

The woman sprinted in front of Starscream, the hem of her dress flowing as she twirled within the field of colorful flowers.

“Starscream! Do you remember this place? It’s the meadow where we first met! Gosh, I remember it like it was yesterday! You wanted Short Circuit so badly, and I was…”

He remained motionless, waiting for her to relax. When she turned back to him, he lowered himself and stretched a palm out to her. Inside, there was a bouquet of red roses.

Celeste went quiet at the sight.

“Huh?”

Swallowing his nerves, Starscream spoke.

“Celeste…I…am not familiar with human customs or holidays, but I want to give this to you.”

Her silence worried him briefly, but he carried on, his words merging with the beat of his spark.

“Will you…be my valentine?”

At first, there was nothing. Celeste’s eyes, vibrant and luminous, gazed deeply into his own. And then, much to his dismay, she began to cry. Panicked, Starscream released a sound of surprise before pulling his servo away a little.

“Oh, no! Please! Don't cry! Did I do something wrong?”

And then, abruptly, Celeste leaned forward and pressed a kiss to one of his digits. Starscream squeaked as she held onto the bouquet. A smile bloomed across her face like the flowers she adored so much.

“Always, Starscream. I’ll always be your valentine.”

The mech blushed, hard and fast, completely at loss for words.

Carefully, Celeste set the bouquet below her and rummaged through the bags she brought with her into the meadow.

“I actually…wanted to ask you the same thing!”

From her bag, she retrieved a most peculiar item. With narrowed optics, Starscream recognized tiny images of himself in varying poses and expressions. There were pictures of him flying, sword training, and even laughing. He tilted his helm, remembering that all the pictures were taken with his permission. On top of the small board, there was also his name in the form of perfect calligraphy, another hobby of hers.

A reward? A gift? For him?

“What is it?”

Celeste chuckled.

“A photo collage! Filled with pictures of you!” Her voice softened as she held the present out for him. “I know it isn’t much, but I…really appreciate you, Starscream.”

His blush burned deeper and brighter than before, his spark humming and thrumming within his chest plate. But after a pause, he gathered himself, feeling more at ease than he ever felt in his life.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Starscream.”

He smiled, gently cradling the board in his servo.

“Yes. Happy Valentine’s Day, Celeste.”

After setting both of their gifts beside them, Starscream held Celeste close in his giant palm. When he lifted her to his faceplate, her lips brushed against his cheek, setting it ablaze once again.

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