I need a bot to feel gut wrenching despair over losing their human friend to old age specifically because the war has caused them to forget that that can happen. I need a bot who’s so used to their friends and family dying as war casualties that they’ve internalised and come to terms with the fact that “they fought their hardest”, or “they were a hero”, or even “they sacrificed themselves to help us”. But none of that applies here. You cannot fight time. You cannot be a hero against age itself. You are no sacrifice for others.
You die old and happy. That should be the best way to go. That should be the easiest death to grieve. Not for them though. They cannot rationalise it. You weren’t in danger and you still died. Their processor cannot handle it. You should still be here. You should still be with them. You weren’t taken away like everyone else, but you did leave. You are gone. And there is no coming back. And they just… crumble because of it.
Decades. Parked by your grave whenever they get the chance. Almost waiting, as if they think you’ll stick your hand out of the dirt one day and squeal that you “got them”, that you “pranked them good!”.
They did all the right things, after all. They protected you from danger. They kept a smile on your face. They cherished their time with you. That should mean that you stay, right?
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Sometimes i think of why people in Transformers fandom sometimes forget how scary humans can be.
Like what do you mean we can learn how to mimic sounds and voices, learn how to echolocate, learn how to be heard in kilometres away(Scandinavian whistle), what do you mean that some people can eat metal(like Michael Lotito), why the f we can regenerate our patterns on fingers after burning them? Why some people bend like horror creatures?
We need more humans scaring the shit out of these huge bots.
It felt like so much had gone wrong in your life and you supposed if anyone could relate it was Ratchet. It hasn’t been easy for either of you, maybe that’s why you’d found each other. Ratchet, to restore his faith in humanity and you to restore your faith in, well, everything.
All you seem to do is replay a few of the very comedic and sweet moments with him.
Like last month.
“Are those gummy bears and chocolate?”
You hadn’t realized you were craving it until he emptied the grocery bag. Ratchet has become very independent, and he always looks so accomplished when he gets all the products on your list when he shops alone.
“Yes. Your menstrual cycle is approaching and you crave these desserts when it arrives. I have also retained the necessary equipment to survive the tortuous experience.”
He pulled out two packs of pads as well as three boxes of tampons.
Honestly you’re a bit stunned. You’d only told him one time about your period. Only because he’d tracked your low iron levels and assumed the worse. After you spent twenty minutes assuring him that you weren’t dying, he seemed more assured that this was just a part of the human physiology that he wasn’t well versed in yet.
“H-How did you know my period was coming?”
“I’ve imputed your cycle into my system to ensure I have an accurate time frame.”
You weren’t really sure what to say. You kind of felt like crying because that was literally the sweetest thing ever. Your lower lip quivered and when he saw the change in your expression, he moved to your side immediately.
“What is wrong! Have I obtained the wrong sizes!!” He looked a bit panicked, eyes darting between you and the box of pads and all you could do is laugh. You shook your head with a smile, pulling him in for a kiss that he accepted happily. When you pulled away his eyes were glowing and you just grinned.
“You are..happy?”
You nodded.
“I am. Thank you Ratchet.”
He shared a smile.
“You are welcome.”
That was just one of the many. He’s been slowly adapting better, figuring it all out. When Optimus came back, things were tense, yet once again it seems everyone has managed to co-exist. At least to an extent. Bumblebee spends his days at the junkyard with Cade and a few other autobots. You stop by regularly. On days that you and Ratchet are free, you venture to different spots so he can just be himself.
You’ve been to a few states and a number of venues that are open, spacious and beautiful.
Today you’re at another spot that’s covered by a mass of trees. Earlier when he was walking the path you’d been seated on his metal shoulder just watching the beautiful view below. Now you’re both seated, looking down at what seems to be a valley. You’ve spread a blanket and placed down your basket with snacks and drinks nearby. Your sundress blends right into the atmosphere.
Ratchet’s optics are trained ahead, but yours are strictly focused on him.
Lately you’ve begun to really appreciate it, him in his true form.
He always seems to be free, relaxed and it makes you happy, among other things.
You cross your legs at the thought that rushes through your mind. The dress isn’t really doing much to help. Now you feel a little more aware of how easy it would be for him to touch anything, feel everything.
“Get a grip girl.”
Sometimes you need to remind yourself that he can see and sense a lot. He always seems to know when you’re excited. You’ve gotten a bit better at hiding it. But it’s not easy when everything he seems to do urges a reaction from you.
He looks down at you and you straighten, planting a smile on your face.
“I-It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
His eyes are still trained on you and you try to casually squeeze your thighs together. When his hand comes down at the side of you, you jolt slightly.
“Your pheromone levels are elevated.”
“Dang it!!”
“I-It’s nothing! Being in this place just makes me really h-happy I guess.”
You hope you’ve done a good job at covering it up, but even that feels a bit weak.
“Is that all?”
The way he looks at you makes you want to confess so much right now. His metal fingers are maybe a foot away from your hip. You look between his hand, then back up at him, nibbling on your lip. It’s stupid to think you can truly fool him. Clearly he’s not going to let it go unless you explain yourself.
You lick your lips and his eyes track every reaction.
“I..”
You gulp, finally really holding his gaze.
“I really like it when you’re like this, in your true form..”
You admit bashfully.
The rings in his optics seem to glow a bit brighter and you swallow.
He smiles.
“What a naughty human you are.”
You blush.
“D-Don’t tease me!”
Ratchet merely chuckles and you mean to put him in his place, but he leans closer and you lose your words.
“If it were possible for us to mate in this form I would gladly make love to you right here.”
Your lips part in shock and excitement.
His hand reaches over and when he gently parts your legs with his fingers, you’re not sure what to expect but your heart is racing.
“We’re all alone here, you can be as vocal as you’d like.”
That catches you by surprise, so does his thumb that lands right between your legs, pressing against your most sensitive spot. He gives a purposeful stroke and you jolt in surprise, letting out a moan.
You end up on your back, and instinctively you try to reach for something. Your hands end up pressing against his chest plate as he starts a tauntingly pleasurable rhythm. You’re a bit breathless, both the gentle strokes and the sensations that run through your body.
Your arousal is so effortlessly written on your face as you practically claw at the metal as he continues his ministrations. You’re moaning, gasping, almost screaming and he’s taking it all in.
“R-Ratchet w-wait I-I-I’m gonna-’
Your hips jerk and you release before you can stop it, a staggered scream echoing in the space. You know one thing that’s certain.
Your panties are definitely ruined.
Your head drops against the blanket, chest rising and falling a bit briskly. Your eyes are closed and Ratchet laughs lowly, his fingers running along your inner thigh. You twitch, looking up at him with a sense of desperation.
He can’t truly express how fortunate he is. Not just for your honesty, protection, but your acceptance. The very thing he’d been ridiculed for by society was the thing you seemed to love most about him.
You love him regardless, a feeling he didn’t realize he craved until he met you.
You lift your hand and when you press it to his cheek, his expression softens. You urge him closer, and he welcomes it, the soft kiss you leave on his lips. All he feels is the warmth of it. When he pulls away, you still look terribly desperate.
