#mtmte ratchet imagine

[inhan---inhan]

[rawmeknockout]

gentle dom ratchet with drift and reader? and thank you so much for opening requests!!!

mech balls mech balls mech balls

"Just like that. Good boy," Ratchet's words are all but a self-satisfied purr as he pulls Drift closer by the armor around his neck, his other servo resting comfortably around the back of your head. Drift's mouth carefully, slowly takes Ratchet's spike, pretty lips stretched around the familiar girth. You simply nuzzle into the space of armor between Ratchet's array and thigh, tongue curled around the heavy weight of his balls as your small fingers stroke between the soft platelets of his valve. Drift's pace is leisurely as he takes Ratchet's spike down his intake, one servo keeping the medic's leg spread wide and the other curled up politely upon his thighs. Just as Ratchet had 'trained' him.

Ratchet's optics take their time roaming from Drift's body to yours, cooling fans a gentle white noise under the wet sound of Drift's intake swallowing and contracting around Ratchet's spike. Your lips press to the mesh against your tongue, sucking lightly on the sensitive metal. Ratchet's digits tighten against your head, two of the blunt edges giving an encouraging scratch like one would a pet. You shuffle on your knees, smile playing at the edge of your lips. Ratchet, for all hsi gruff nature, reads you like a book, cooing for you to get up, "Come here, kid."

You huff at the old nickname, but eagerly crawl up to join Ratchet on the berth. His lips are on yours in a second, servos gently cupping your jaw and neck. If it wouldn't dislodge Drift from his position, you would be more than happy to push your way into Ratchet's lap. To sink down on his spike, while he just grumbles at you for being over-eager and far too impatient. For now, you have to settle for pressing as close to his chassis as you can get. When you pull back, just for a moment, your eyes glance down to catch Drift's optics. He's watching you intently, nearly taking Ratchet to the hilt, gaze filled with desire and heat.

Maybe Ratchet will let Drift frag you if you ask nicely.

[in-the-airducts]

A little busy right now Rodimus-

(Congrats on your milestone avoidghost!)

[wifetomegatron]

thinking about how dratchet would be the best girl dads (fluff)

just imagine a first contact au where cybertron's beyond repair, and so whoever's left after the war has to migrate & reintegrate into earth society ( including the lost light crew ). And of course, the first thing drift does is adopt a human daughter.

ratchet was initially against it and didn't even want to entertain the idea. and yet, drift had signed himself up for a foster program (specifically catered to cybertronian conjuxes as part of an assimilation project.) he tells ratchet it's only temporary: a couple of months until she finds a forever home with someone else.

'they're not pets.' 'i know they're not.'

ratchet continues to firmly disagree. until he realizes he had no say in the matter, returning home one day to find her on drift's lap: ridiculously small in his arms even with the mass displacement. around drift were pamphlets, magazines, and datapads scattered open, detailing a step-by-step guide for 'first-time fathers'. the boxes of human groceries and soft, padded furniture scattered around the shared space showed ratchet that primus—drift was serious. and so the medic only sighed and joined cross-pedes on the floor, the corner of his mouth quirking up against his will when she squealed in delight. 

'i don't want to hurt her.' 'you won't. we won't.'

she's four and a half, wide-eyed and curious, just learning to speak her language. drift finds himself occupied: spending the mornings dropping her off and picking her up at daycare, while ratchet goes back and forth between overseeing relations in the local autobot facility and teaching at the local all-women's university — cybertronian medicine, to his surprise, was a popular choice of study. she makes a mess on the dinner table and refuses to eat her vegetables, arms crossed and pouting as she turns sharply away from her fathers. the once reluctant medic had to intervene, cleverly tricking the girl into a bargain: an extra hour of television time in exchange for three spoons. ratchet has to tell drift to stop smiling at him the entire night.

all of a sudden, she's ten and sitting on uncle rodimus's shoulders, smearing cupcake icing on the side of his cheek as he misspells her name with the frosting. the promise of 'a couple of months' was swept under the rug as ratchet hung a string of decorations, eavesdropping on the conversation drift was having with the mothers of the soon-to-arrive guests on the phone. the autobot facility wasn't the most ideal place to have a princess-themed birthday party, but the girls had a fun time decorating first aid and velocity with stickers — they were also fawning at fortress maximus's guns for legs, not that their mothers needed to know — and by the late afternoon, their daughter was already asleep against ratchet's shoulders. arms looped around his neck as she mumbled a chorus of sleepy thank yous. ( in that moment, whirl decided to topple glitter all over the table. and ratchet had to scrub for days to get every, single, glimmer out of his systems.)

then she's twelve, and that's when the chaos begins. the mood swings, the crying, the attitude — ratchet hated catching himself playing 'bad cop' while drift gets to be 'good cop': always the one putting his foot down while she runs to her other dad complaining. and suddenly, it all made sense when she and drift called him in the middle of his lecture, screaming over the phone about how she was bleeding. and her stomach hurts. and it's everywhere. his students stifled a laugh, smiling sweetly at the exchange. ratchet thanks years of experience with humans for teaching him to keep his composure. i'll stop by on my lunch break with pads. ratchet wasn't surprised to find that drift was the one in near hysteria, while she only seemed mildly disturbed — if not embarrassed. 

puberty is a monster, all teeth and fangs, stubborn and terrifying, unlike anything he has ever seen — that was saying something considering that he knows megatron — housing itself in the body of his fourteen-year-old. he feels at a loss, and every time he's in a room with her, they will always find a way to dissolve into an argument. drift is sulking at how she never wants to be hugged any more. and how she always tells him to pick her up a few blocks away and never by the school entrance. he's worried. they both were. humans are relatively different than cybertronians. human children, even more so. in a society where they spent millions of years without sparklings, without children — there was a chasm spanning between two battle-worn mechs and her, and it was hard to get anything across when the words seemed to dissolve midway. lost in translation, swallowed by the echo. it seems like the more he pushes, the more she pushes back. 

so when she had her bedroom door ajar, which was unusual considering she would always have it shut or locked, ratchet tentatively peeks in — nearly withering at the sight of her lying on the bedroom floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. the vinyl player he had bought her for her eleventh birthday, slowly spins a familiar tune. he joins her the way he did when drift first brought her home, sprawled across the floor, hands and servos nearly touching. it's almost funny how simple the answer was: pull not push. drift was the one who found them embracing, quiet with only the music humming in the background. it took ratchet sixteen years to really understand her.

then there's the whiplash of teaching her algebra by the kitchen table, to attending her university graduation — bouquets from nearly everyone: swerve & velocity, cyclonus & tailgate, chromedome & rewind, rodimus, minimus & megatron, another one from 'favorite uncle rodimus' cradled between her arms. the photographer had to jog backward and up a few flights of stairs to fully capture the moment and fit both dads in the frame. then it became a mantlepiece by the fireplace. coincidentally, the night after was her twentieth birthday. university finished. at such a young age — it helps when she's got geniuses for fathers and uncles. in the morning, ratchet listens to her talk with her mouth full: leftover birthday cake atop the table as she laughs with drift at the memory of swerve pouring her first drink, only to debunk that this was, in fact, not her first shot.

( may write a part 2 !)

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

The liaison is turned into a bot! wowza! Oh boy oh boy this must mean they can transform, the whole lost light crew is at least a little excited- except liaison. Why would they want to transform? They just did! into a bot! that's enough change for one day, thank you. unfortunately, since they changed in swerve's bar, some drunk bot had the glorious idea to inflate their glorified booze Capri Sun and burst it, shocking liaison into transforming against their will. How'd Rodimus, Ratchet, Swerve, and Drift try and aid a now transformed liaison who just had a screaming panic attack and has now passed tf out in alt mode in the middle of the bar? I'd imagine getting them calm enough to transform back is going to be hard. your whole damn organs are in a Different place.

-Immediately, Rodimus acts, even if he doesn't understand what's happening at first. To him, and any other cybertronian, transforming into your alt mode is completely natural. Are you unhappy with your alt mode? Is there something wrong with your t-cog? Are you in pain? He's trying to get answers but you're still screaming.

But then Rodimus remembers; you weren't born a cybertronian. You have never transformed before, have barely even gotten used to being in this new metallic body, and now you body has changed yet again!

First things first, he gets you out of Swerve's. Being surrounded by a bunch of overcharged bots won't help you in any way, shape or form. Once he gets you somewhere more isolated he tries to talk to you, calm you down by reminding you that this is not a permanent form, you can turn back into root mode, you just gotta calm down. Rodimus tries to calm you down by talking about a bunch of random, but mundane things to get your mind off your panic.

If this doesn't help then he will call someone like Rung or Ratchet to help you. Even when they arrive, Rodimus stays by your side, not wanting to leave you when you're so clearly in distress.

-Ratchet's first instinct is to get you to the medbay, thinking you're hurt, but he quickly realizes that you're having a panic attack. The trauma of suddenly becoming a cybertronian is still fresh in your mind but as at least as a cybertronian you could find familiarity and comfort in your arms and legs and other features humans share with their metallic kin.

He gets you out of Swerve faster than you can say Gran Cybertronian Taxonomy, but not before he gets a good look at the bot that caused this, making sure to remember who it was so they can be disciplined for it later.

Trying to calm you down, Ratchet places a hand on your alt mode, hoping that his touch will help ground you in reality. He uses a calm and soothing tone as he talks with you, reminding you to activate your vents so you won't overheat. Once he's sure you're focused on what he's saying he gently guides you through how to use your t-cog.

-It takes exactly 3.2 seconds for Swerve to order Ten to get everyone out of the bar. Tell them that the drinks were on the house tonight, whatever will make them leave, he needs them out of here pronto! Swerve knows what a panic attack looks like, though usually he's the one having it, so he knows what's happening to you and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what triggered it. He makes a mental note to ban the patron that forced you to transform into your alt mode.

Calls for Rung immediately but while waiting for the psychiatrist to arrive he still does his best to help you. He's... not that good at it. Watching you having a panic attack makes him panic as well, simply because he feels super worthless for not being able to help you.

Once Rung arrives, Swerve backs off and awkwardly stand in the background. He feels like he shouldn't really be there to watch everything but at the same time he doesn't want to leave because you're his friend and he would feel super shitty if he just left you.

-Drift has you in his arms and halfway to the medbay before anyone can really figure out what's going on. All he hears is that you are screaming and his first instinct is to bring you to Ratchet because Ratchet always makes things better. He might look calm on the outside but inside he's panicking, mind going a thousand miles per hour, trying to understand what's going on.

When he arrives at the medbay Drift finally realizes that you're having a panic attack and he tells Ratchet this. He feels bad for not realizing it sooner and comforting you the way you needed.

Leaves Ratchet with the task of helping you calm down and transform back into root mode, meanwhile he's going to find the idiot that fought it was a good idea to force you to transform and give them a piece of his mind.

[libakarm]

[transingthoseformers]

Magnus bending Megatron over his desk and using that giant armour spike to rail him

And then Megatron gets sent to Ratchet for crutches

It was worth it wasn't it

[silversrantsandrambles]

@lemonsandlimed helped me create this monstrosity. They colored the sketch 🤩

...so would you still love him if he was a worm? 🥺

Panel in question provided by @lemonsandlimed THEIR SO COOL, THEY DROWNED STARSCREAM IN RANCH ONCE

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hello there! This is my first time requesting anything, but I’ve read through a lot of your transformers hcs and I absolutely love your work! You attention to detail and the easy flow of your wording makes for a very comfortable read. <3

My I request Ratchet, Rung, Rodimus, and Fort Max with a sweet yet spunky mini-bot field-medic friend? They take self care very seriously and are always pushing for others to take better care of themselves.

Asdfghjkl omg that's so incredibly kind of you thank you so much!! I often worry about flow so hearing I'm doing a good job makes me so incredibly happy!! The story I wrote came out quite long so I went with just Fort Max and gave reader a lil jetpack to talk at optic level ^^

Fort Max

The ship's ramp closed slowly on the alien rainstorm raging behind the hulking mech as he stumbled into the cargo hold, cutting out the din of thunder and pounding rain to leave the two of you in comfortable quiet. One servo gingerly cradling his side, Fort Max looked quite worse for the wear. Dripping and exhausted, he didn't even seem to see you as he limped forward, making steady progress to the control panel instead of the small side room you utilized for repairs. Never one to sit idly by, you fired up your jetpack and zoomed in front of his path before he could get too far.

"Wait, Max! I need you in the medical bay!" you instructed, pointing to the door as you hovered at optic level. A quick glance at his injury revealed energon bleeding from beneath his servo, cementing your dedication to get him looked over and patched up.

"It's fine, Y/N..." the big mech sighed, sounding thoroughly worn out. Grimacing after another step, he didn't even bother putting effort into making his excuse believable, the pain of his injury evident in every syllable. "I can tell it's just a scratch."

"I'll be the judge of that." you retorted without missing a beat, crossing your arms to signify your displeasure. Zipping about to block his path, you refused to relent for even a moment, hovering like a displeased wasp ready to sting. Fort Max fixed you with a look too exhausted to be read as the warning he intended.

"I need to get the ship moving or we'll be late..." he said with another sigh, the first hint of surrender evident in his tone.

"I'll write you a doctor's note! Now; march!" you commanded, pointing to the doorway and puffing out your chest for maximum authority. For a moment you saw the big mech consider his options. While he definitely had the physical strength to push past you and take the controls, he certainly didn't have the mental strength to deal with the fallout. You saw the war wage in the depths of his optics before resignation swept over him.

"You're impossible, you know that?" he grumbled before doing as you told. Limping into the tiny medical bay, he sat down heavily on the edge of the berth, wincing as his injury protested every little move. Despite all of your frustration, you couldn't stop your spark from aching at his suffering. Primus, curse the soft spot you'd developed for this mech... Keeping your feelings to yourself, you flew in after him, hovering beside his injury as he laid back for you to inspect it.

"You're one to talk." you said as you started checking him over with your scanner, keeping the conversation going to distract you from your worry. Whatever he'd fought had torn off a sizable chunk from his chest and left the rest of his frame thoroughly battered. "Do you know what happens if you die? I'm too small to fly the ship, so I'll be stuck wherever your frame decides to give out. You don't want to leave your favorite minibot stranded, do you?"

"My favorite minibot, no." he replied casually, pretending it didn't hurt when you tenderly traced the edges of the wound with your digits. Looking down at you, he managed a tired smirk before he spoke again. "You, on the other hand..."

"You shouldn't sass the bot patching your sorry frame up. Not many would want the job." you replied with a wag of your digit before transforming it into a welder. Biting back your own smile, you got to work sealing up the worst parts of the injury, moving with precision to avoid any unnecessary pain. Max tensed at the sting, his powerful frame going rigid beneath your touch as he focused on keeping still. As always, your careful mending closed his wound and slowly lessened his discomfort. Within a few minutes he was more relaxed beneath you than when you'd begun. You took a lot of pride in being able to bring him even a small measure of peace.

When the last open part of the wound was sealed, you took a moment to consider what kind of patch would best encourage healing. In the time it took you to decide, Fort Max offered another rebuttal, his tender tone conveyor all the gratitude he knew you were owed. "There's no one else I'd accept. What other minibot is brave enough to boss me around?"

[welcometomybraincomics]

speaking of size disparity

[Ratchet's normal servos transform away into hilariously smaller servos]

You know, for medical purposes

even more hands, for your viewing pleasure XD

[i-starcreamed]

Since you enjoy the trope, how about "only one circuit slab" with your choice of bot? :3 you know who my #1 is but go with whoever you think it would be most fun with. (If you want a more specific setup I'd be happy to toss some ideas around with you)

hopefully these are good...i had to go with OUR #1 and a couple other bots :3 although you already know that bc you helped with the silly ideas. did not edit this btw my bad if its all over the place

also human reader!! These turned out way longer than I thought, I think idk how to write headcanons and end up writing short imagines but eh, I was inspired

Post includes -> Swerve, Rodimus, and TFP Ratchet

MTMTE Swerve

A completely normal day on the LL, Swerve had closed down his bar for the day and you had stayed back to talk to him even as the last bot left the place. Being the friendly bot he is, he offered to give you a ride back to your room which you accepted

As you rode down the halls of the ship, Swerve mentioned how he has been looking for a roommate for like, ever, and since his room was big enough for another bot it was surely perfect for you.

You agreed of course and he immediately made plans to show you around his humble abode

Well guess what?

You turned the corner and instead of seeing his room there was a big ass crater in place of it

Your jaws dropped and agreed that he can stay In your room instead...at least until his room is rebuilt. Roommates, right?

Only problem blessing was that you had one bed

After some light arguing of who sleeps where, you both settled that you'll sleep awkwardly next to him where he wouldn't crush you and he would turn the other way. You settled down and stared at the ceiling as you stiffly lay there, wanting to give him his space. He respectfully gave you your space but continued to try to make conversation, although it was a bit awkward since you two weren't facing eachother

Another problem arose, you were on the edge of the bed and weren't use to not being nestled into your blankets, the ship was cold, you started shivering.

"I don't even know if you can hear me right now, I mean its not that muffled right? I can always speak a little clearer or louder but I shouldn't keep you up. Are you tired yet? I don't want to-"

"Swerve? Can you turn around?"

He turned and faced the ceiling while his helm turned towards you, he was about to inquire but was immediately silenced when you started climbing him and put down your pillows and blankets on his chest.

"It's uh, its cold. I could always move if you mind th-"

"No."

He blurted out. You could feel the metal beneath you radiate pure heat, more than usual. It was comforting. You sigh and lay down, cuddling up against your blankets and well, him, the best way you could. You could feel the soft hum of his spark beneath you, it was comforting. You didn't pay attention to the way your face heat up as your eyes fluttered shut

Swerve could only lay there, absolutely frozen. For once he was at a loss for words and he wondered if you could tell his spark felt like shooting out of his chest

He slowly reached out, his servo hovering above you for a second. You said you were cold, right? He hesitantly placed one servo above you, it ever so gently cradled your sleeping form.

You bet with that amount of warmth you got the best sleep of your life

He was NOT able to recharge that night. On one hand, he was keeping you safe and warm. On the other, the massive grin on his face would not go away

Maybe his room should get destroyed more often, or just maybe he can delay the reconstruction of it

MTMTE Rodimus

The LL had gone onto another one of its expeditions and you just so happened to have gotten lost with the most reckless but endearingly dedicated mech

It's been hours since you've been treading along this strange planet and during that time, you found out that the locals are not human-friendly whatsoever

It gets to the point where the two of you have gone way too long without any rest/recharge, Rodimus has sent an emergency signal and hoped that someone from the crew would find you two soon. However it gets apparent you both need to make a stop before you both pass out from exhaustion, especially you

Rodimus insists on transforming into his alt mode and you sleeping there until the morning, but you're equally as stubborn and insist on keeping watch for him.

He only agreed because of how blushy that made him. You, his special human, want to protect him even in these circumstances? Fine, you can sit on his shoulder and keep watch while he settles down to avoid using any more energon

Not even 10 minutes later, he feels your head suddenly rest near his neck-cables.

"Y/N?"

No response except your soft breathing, there's a soft smile on his faceplates knowing that you had fallen asleep.

He carefully takes you from his shoulder and transforms, in a split second you were laying down and peacefully sleeping in his alt-mode.

It may not be a bed/circuit slab but you're the only human he'd let sleep in his alt-mode, expect the seats to be warm when you wake up or his engines to purr if he's driving

Absolute endless teasing back on the LL btw, WILL ask for you to sleep in his alt-mode again or to have some sort of sleepover

TFP Ratchet

This medic is the definition of overworking yourself

Rarely ever he gets to recharge NEAR you and you swore you have never seen him actually recharge without Optimus or you begging him

This specific day wasn't any different, except you kept tossing and turning in your bed. Something was bothering you and you weren't sure what, it just did not let you sleep. No matter how tired you felt, your body would not let you rest.

Cue you going to accompany Ratchet and him being concerned and scolding you as to why you were up at such an hour

You responded with a slow frog blink

"I can't sleep."

He lets you stay with him a while and just hopes you'll fall asleep eventually, it had happened before after all. He puts you on his shoulder and otherwise continues working, fully expecting you to fall asleep in a couple of minutes

30 minutes go by and you're still awake somehow, your half-lidded eyes staring and probably getting fried by the screen. He has a small mental battle with himself before he sighs and decided to...stop working (explodes)

"Will you get some sleep if I...if I stay with you?"

He says it almost reluctantly. But only you know that its a genuine offer. If you weren't so tired you would've leaped up in the air and shouted YES!! But instead you sleepily nodded your head and clung onto him.

He groaned and headed over to his room which was bland besides some belongings, gifts from the kids, and his unused recharge slab.

There he would lay down, expecting to wait for you to sleep and then continue his work. But he didn't expect it to be this relaxing

You laying there with him, near his shoulder armor and neck-cables, softly breathing and huddled against him. It didn't take him long for his exhaustion to finally catch up to him. He blames you for being so...calming and wonderful.

Before he drifts into recharge, he turns his helm towards you so his cheek is still in contact with you. Hes just trying to make you comfortable obviously, no, it's not out of his own enjoyment. Hes just tired, okay?

Speak of it in the morning and suddenly he forgets how to talk and cant get an explanation out without sputtering

[inhan---inhan]

[rawmeknockout]

would it be okay to request a liaison who just worships ratchet after a very long day in medbay? i’m not saying ratchet is a pillow princess (i am) but man deserves to be spoiled with affection- considering those sensitive medic hands do so much work (hand kink and sensitive medicine hands have been rotting my brain)

Ratchet’s fans are loud in the quiet of his habsuite, optics fully locked on your face as you kiss down his chassis. He’s limp and pliant under you, fully allowing you control to have him however you wish. It’s one of the things you like best about fucking Ratchet: he’s more than happy to lay back and let you do as you wish as long as he gets off, too. Your fingers twine with his, pressing palm to palm. You worship him with hands and mouth, your free digits tracing the seams of his hood all the way down to his hip plates.

You pull your joined hands to your mouth, kissing over the back of his servo up to his wrist components. Such precious hands that have saved countless lives, a medical marvel in themselves. Your tongue pokes out as you twist his servo palm up, licking at the sensitive metal peeking out from behind his armor. There’s a stutter of static caught in Ratchet’s intake, as he watches and feels your tongue map a path from his wrist down his palm. You can faintly taste the sterilizer that bathes his servos over and over and over throughout the day. As you reach his digits, you replace your tongue with lips and kiss down his index digit, until you can wrap them around the first segment.

Ratchet squirms beneath you, sensors attuned to the slightest of changes against his servos, taking in information about your makeup just from a touch. Information he casts aside from his HUD so he can fully focus on watching you wash and worship his servo with your mouth.

[writeyouin]

How would mtmte Miminus, Thunderclash and Swerve react to the liaison(who has a crush on the bots but the bots are oblivious but maybe like them back) dying their hair their color scheme?(kinda in the style of rainbow hair) Also, I adore you and sorry if I misread any of your rules! 💜 Stay safe!

MTMTE Bots X Reader Headcanons - Oblivious

A/N - I peeked at the vote results early by voting once myself. I have zero patience. So, since it's a mix of headcanons and fics, I'm gonna go through my inbox and do a few asks as headcanons and save the rest for fics. Oh, also I missed out Thunderclash, just 'cos I'm less familiar with him and I haven't read the comics in a while.

Warnings - None.

Rating - T

Minimus Ambus

You work with Minimus a lot, reporting to him on Megatron's behaviour.

He was used to your previous hair colour, red and blue with a few white streaks.

What a coincidence that you should dye it green, black, and blue just as he is becoming more comfortable going about his tasks without the Magnus armour.

"Do you like my new hairstyle?" You ask him, quietly hinting that it's him you really like.

"It's in line with regulation, so it's more than adequate."

Honestly, you didn't know there were hair regulations until Minimus said that. You should have guessed. He is meticulous after all.

You thought you were being direct, but you'll have to be more to the point if you want this boyyo to notice you.

"I thought it would be nice to match you."

You think you can hear Minimus' cooling fans click on.

"Yes, well," He clears his vocaliser. "I am proud to have been a positive influence on you."

He hastily finds an excuse to look away from you, staring pointedly at his beloved paperwork.

It's only when he sees you practising your handwriting to be more in line with his that he thinks he might be feeling something akin to love.

Nope, no, not love. Probably just a spark infection. He'll see Ratchet to make sure his systems are functioning optimally later.

Swerve

Swerve notices the change in your hair and clothes immediately. He always notices the things you do.

Oh wow... Do you even realise that you match his colour scheme now? Probably not. This was likely just a happy accident.

Oh, if Swerve could match you, he would.

He likes to imagine those happy couples on Earth with the same Christmas jumpers on, and you would send a card to everyone you knew. There would be a dog of course, and three children, all in the same outfits, and- did you say hi to him? Primus! He'd been so far off in his fantasy that he'd completely blanked you.

"Do you like dogs?" He asked point blank, forgetting himself momentarily. He's checking for accuracy. If not, he's going to change the fantasy pet to a cat.

"Sure," You grin. "Dogs are cute."

You've got up to the bar now.

"Your hair looks nice," He says after a minute, smiling softly. "I really love you- IT! THE HAIR! Not- Not you. I love your hair. It's nice that we match, 'cos like, orange is a good colour, which is why it's my paint job, so it's good to see you like it too, 'cos you match me- Wait, did that sound arrogant? It did, didn't it!"

Now he's spiralling. He's trying to wave off the embarrassment and he's knocked some energon on you.

"Shoot," You say, though you're not too upset, it's just a mild annoyance. "I don't have any other orange clothes. Guess we won't match any more."

You want to match him? Even when he was such a glitch. Swerve has hearts in his optics.

Okay, he's working up the nerve to ask you out. He's gonna do it. Just give him like a month to build up the courage.

[wifetomegatron]

i love you (it'll pass). ratchet(idw)/gn!reader

that one scene from fleabag, with the priest... yeah, but with ratchet

" You knew this was coming."

There was a pause, a heartbeat, or two, where you're limp against his arms. Draped against his right side and struggling to compose yourself, trembling with every exhale. Like a child trying to hold it in, there was no use in fighting the tears. So you let it flow. Down your chin. Your neck. He pulls your body closer into the hug, rubbing his servos up and down as if to soothe you. But it was inevitable. It would be like trying to make Rodimus change course from a path he had stubbornly chosen to sprint and crash into. Or changing the trajectory of a comet as it plummets itself through the atmosphere, snagged by the planet's gravity, it's helpless. Sometimes the best thing to do is to let it fall. Let it crash.

" I know," You sniffled. Trying to hide your face from him, which caused him to laugh — the smile not reaching his optics. He gently guided your chin back to face him. Ratchet always looks tired. Weary. And now he looks even more worn, like he's been fighting and finally decided that enough is enough. You couldn't bear it, so you turn away once again. Staring ahead into the distance.

There were quiet noises all around you. There were insects gently singing by the creek, the waters trickling down the narrow stream. The water was clear, so clear that if you paid attention you would've seen the little animals swimming by the shallows. Beneath your palm, the grass was still wet with morning dew. Sunrise halfway past the hills, crawling past the curves and grazing your skin. This was what Ratchet loved about Earth. It was soft. Gentle. Peaceful. You like to think that it gave him a kind of comfort that made him forget about the war — an alternative to the cold, sharp edges of Cybertron that he can't bear to miss. He could say the same thing about you as well. But that would be unfair. And maybe that's why this has to end. Because you were never his home.

" I love you," You sighed. Helpless.

" It will pass," He whispered.

The silence continued, and for a minute, you were about to cry again. It was hard to be rational about all of it when your heart felt like it was about to collapse in itself. And Ratchet knew this. Saw this. From the way, your hands curled into fists as if it has nowhere to go — no longer allowed to seek refuge in his.

So he placed his palm on your head, stroking your hair and breaking the silence, " I think you know how to love better than any of us. That's why you find it all so painful."

Finally, you look at him.

When two stars collide, they merge to create a new, brighter star. A dance of hydrogen gas and light, a birth of a heavenly body. There is creation. There is love. But when a comet crashes into the Earth, it bends and breaks and burns the soil and reshapes the terrain until it is unrecognizable. Unwillingly leaving a mark. And you will have to carry the shape of him within you forever. Irreversibly changed. You find it all so unfair. But you can't bring yourself to be selfish. Not like this.

So you throw yourself into his arms one last time, accepting the inevitable. The crash. ( And your body will continue to remember this moment: the juts and bend of his armor. The weight of his hug. The thrum of chassis. )

He swiped the last few drops from the corner of your eyes, " So, see you tomorrow?"

You gave him a shaky smile.

" Just kidding. You're never allowed in my ship, ever again."

And with that, he's up, back to his original mass, and walking towards the ship. You tightened the grip on your bags, trying to remain grounded. Like a song finally coming to a slow, he stops a few meters away to turn around — almost against his will, unable to bring himself to keep a straight face.

" I love you, too."

When the Earth is scorched, metal continues to shine. Even hours after the Lost Light left — most likely drifting into the vast echo of space — it still left an imprint against the tall grass.

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Mtmte whirl and his scraplet daughter whirl jr. meet TFP!teamprime

While initially wary of this stranger, Optimus quickly grows to trust Whirl when he sees him interact with his daughter. For all of his sharp edges and crude words, Whirl loves his daughter and cares for her and with these actions Optimus can tell that he’s a kind spark deep down. He treats Whirl with kindess and respect and Whirl Jr. like she’s his own niece.

Upon learning of Whirl Jr’s. scraplet nature, Optimus finds himself not caring too much about it. While scraplets are terrifying litte things in their world, Junior has never harmed anyone on team Prime and as such he does not fear her. More than that, the fact that Whirl does not care about this either and still treats her like the child he is only further proves to Optimus that he’s a good mech.

Ratchet does not like Whirl. Simple as that. He’s loud, agitating and won’t stop messing around in his medbay! Most of the time, Ratchet will react to him with grumbles or the occasional snarky comment, but despite this he will never hesitate to provide medical aid to Whirl or his daughter. In fact, Whirl Jr. might be the only reason as to why Ratchet hasn’t wielded Whirl to the ceiling yet. Despite all his flaws, he’s obviously a great caretaker (something which pains Ratchet to admit it) and he would never do anything to put his kid in harm’s way. Too bad he had to choose such an atrocious name.

Sometimes, Whirl and Ratchet will actually manage to have a serious, civil conversation. This only happens when it’s just the two of them and usually in the dead of night but during these talks Ratchet gains a better understanding of who Whirl is and more importantly; WHY he’s like this. And Ratchet gets to vent, gets to complain and talk about his worries and fears in a way he can’t with the rest of his team. They never bring these talks up later but it means a lot to both of them.

As for Whirl Jr. herself, Ratchet finds a sort of comfort in seeing such a young cybertronian healthy and happy. Most of their kind died in the war and too see a youngling sparks some hope in him that they might have some future once the war has ended. SUPER SHOCKED to find out that Whirl Jr. is a scraplet and while at first he reacts with outrage at the fact that Whirl brought with him a whole colony of scraplets to the base he eventually calms down and decides to accept Whirl Jr. for who she is. She’s obviously a good kid and despite it all, a true cybertronian.

Still fairly young himself, Bumblebee is super excited to meet Whirl Jr.. Only reason he keeps any semblance of distance is because Whirl won’t stop snapping his claws at him when he gets too close. But eventually Bee wears him down and Whirl allows him to get closer and oh, look how cute she is! Can she transform yet? Does she like to race? Does she know any words? Bumblebee quickly worms himself into Whirl’s spark and soon becomes the number 1 babysitter for when Whirl either needs some alone time or has to go kick some decepticon butt.

Bumblebee thinks Whirl is pretty neat. Yeah, he doesn’t always say the nicest things but it’s hard to keep up this facade of being an uncaring jerk when you can’t go five minutes without acting silly to make your kid laugh. He’s just a guy that’s gotten hurt one too many times and Bumblebee can relate to that. It’s mainly because of this that he doesn’t panic when Whirl Jr. is revealed to be a sentient colony of scraplets. He trusts Whirl and Whirl Jr..

Whirl Jr. is small and fragile. Bulkhead is big and clumsy. Those are two not too great combinations. Listen, he digs the kid, he really does, but he can barely keep up with Miko and the other human kids and that’s only because they can run out of harms way if anything happens. Sparklings? They can’t do that. Still, he’s got no problem with her being on base and will casually look out for her to make sure she doesn’t get in any trouble.

When he learns that Whirl was a Wrecker back in his own universe, Bulkhead thinks it only makes sense. At least in this universe the Wreckers had the habit of attracting the some of the most broken bots left in the wake of the war. And Whirl just so happens to fit the bill perfectly. Doesn’t exactly trust him but doesn’t dislike him either. One of the few that bites back when Whirl takes things too far and Whirl respects him for it.

Gets pretty freaked out when he learns that Whirl Jr. is... well, a whole bunch of scraplets. Nanite-sized, intelligent scraplets. That thought sends shivers down his spine. For a while he can’t help but look at her differently, as if waiting for her to suddenly start cannabilizing the entire team. This goes on until he sees her panic upon seeing Whirl seriously hurt after a major battle. At that point he realizes that this is just a regular kid. Starts treating her normally after this though he still makes a couple scraplet jokes that the throws at Whirl, who returns them with gusto.

Arcee can’t stand Whirl at first. He keeps riling her up, saying the most infuriating things seemingly just for shits and giggles and somehow he knows just how to push all her buttons (it’s because she reminds him of Cyclonus). But upon seeing more of Whirl she starts to respect him. His shitty attitude (her words) is a result of trauma and a coping mechanism to shield himself from further hurt and frag, she gets that. And he’s always ready to get in the line of fire if it means keeping the humans or Whirl Jr. out of danger which proves to Arcee that he’s not a complete jerk. Eventually they start to become friends and start trading exchanging some quippy banter and battle stories.

Just like Bulkhead, Arcee is not that keen on hanging around the sparkling. But in this case it’s mostly just because she has no idea how to take care of it. She wants to protect Whirl Jr. but keeping someone safe versus keeping someone happy are two separate things. When Whirl Jr’s. secret is revealed she is initially super pissed at Whirl for allowing such a dangerous thing to get close to the team. But this anger surprisingly doesn’t last very long as one look at Whirl Jr. makes Arcee remember that this supposedly ‘dangerous thing’ got scared by her own shadow. Yeah, ok, maybe she’s not that big of a threat.