#transformers reader insert

Optimus Prime. Yup, ironically enough, you were saving him for last. There wasn't any real reason, other than it felt oddly fitting for the big guy himself to complete your unfinished set.

Unboxing the toy, you can't help the beaming smile that grows on your face as you hold him in your hands. Is it too dramatic to say that you're cradling him the way one cradles a sacred idol? Or perhaps a precious gem that you intend on treasuring? Probably. But you can't deny that there's something reverent in your touch as you place him down with the rest of the figurines on their dedicated desk.

Yes, dedicated desk. These guys have their own desk that you use to display them. The entire thing is covered with your figurines, one side belonging to the Autobots, and the other, the Decepticons. All lovingly handled and placed with the care of an artist painting their muse onto a canvas.

Setting down Optimus between Bumblebee and Ratchet, you take a step back and bask in your fully completed Transformers toy collection. The surge of pride and satisfaction fills your every vein. You're pretty sure this is how Greek sculptors feel like after finishing a statue.

Grabbing your phone, you snap a few photos that afterwards, you deem good enough to share online. Might as well share your excitement with everyone else, right? You type out a caption for your post and begin to make your way out your room.

Buuut not without casting one last glance to your toy-filled desk. Gotta get at least one more dopamine hit before you go.

The missing piece in your puzzle. The last one to arrive.

Your gaze sweeps over every Autobot, Decepticon, even the niche characters you managed to snag, and your chest puffs out in fulfillment—before your eyes land on Optimus Prime.

Your pause mid-step, lingering in the doorway.

... For a second, a brief second, there's a fragile silence in the air. Like the entire room went still, holding its breath. Waiting. Watching.

........

Then you turn around and step out, shutting the door behind you. Oblivious to the earlier tension in the room, if there even was any. Pocketing your phone, you idly think about what to eat for dinner later. Something affordable, probably. OP wasn't exactly cheap, after all!

In the meantime, you settle on your couch and turn on the TV for some mindless entertainment. Sighing contentedly, you lean back into the cushions and relax.

Today really is a good day.

....

Back in your room, the tiny finger of Optimus Prime twitches.

----

Noise is what wakes you up.

Weirdly enough, it's not the sound of your show (which has long since been replaced with some kind of reality TV episode your grandma would watch), nor is it the low buzz of your phone telling you your order is on its way. What actually woke you up was the soft thunk of something hitting the floor.

You strain your ears, wondering if the sound was a sleep-induced auditory hallucination. Did it come from outside? But it can't have been—it was so close. A pin dropping in silence, so to speak.

It almost sounded like... It came from your room.

...Wait.

Your room.

Adrenaline zaps you awake. If that weird sound didn't send you into high alert, that realization did.

Because that means someone could be in your room. With your figurines.

Oh HELL no.

You don't care if it's a thief or a stray animal that somehow got into your home. If they even put a singular FINGERPRINT on the toys that you PAID FOR, you are committing a murder.

But wait. Let's not get too overzealous here. On the chance that there is a thief in your room right now, you can't just burst inside unarmed. You love your collection, but you also love not dying.

Slowly, you get up from your couch, making sure to grab your phone and put it on silent. You sneak away, trying to find some kind of weapon to use. A kitchen knife will have to do. Do you know how to use it? Not really, but maybe your fight or flight instincts can take over from there.

Hefting the knife in one hand, and your phone in the other, your thumb hovers over the final number for the police if things go wrong. You might be a bit paranoid right now, but you also don't really care.

Creeping towards the door to your bedroom, you listen in. You don't really hear...

Inhaling deeply to calm your nerves, you brace yourself.

No wait- there is something. Voices. A lot of them. And apparently, they're getting into an argument. But they sound... Distant?

They're definitely inside your room, but these guys must be the quietest fighters ever or something, because wow. You're not sure how someone can yell a death threat and sound so small.

Here goes nothing.

Bursting through the door, you point the knife in your hands in what you hope is a threatening manner, scowling hard.

"If you even put one hand on those figures, I swear I will fucking-"

Then you stop. The rest of the threat chokes in your throat as you survey the scene.

Your toys. The Transformers. They're...

They're moving.

They're all frozen now, staring up at you with wide painted optics. But you saw their heads swivel in your direction when you burst in. Not to mention the fact that they're all scattered throughout the room right now; some on the floor, some on your bed, some are on the other separate desk that you use for storing non-transformer things.

They all look like they're in the middle of a battle. A toy sized battle. In your room.

Moving by themselves.

"Um," One of them speaks up. Your eyes snap towards... Optimus Prime. Who seemed to have frozen in the middle of fighting Megatron, who's gaze flickers from you to him.

You stare at them all, speechless. Autobot, Decepticon, even the niche characters– you look at them and they look at you.

What?

"Please don't be alarmed," Optimus tries to assure you. Hearing his deep voice come from a toy made out of plastic is surreal. "We mean no harm to you. We-"

He glances around and realizes how contradictory his words are. And for the first time... You see Optimus Prime falter.

He looks up at you.

"We will explain."

...Oh boy.

This is the type shit I be doing instead of homework dawg wtf 🥀🥀 THIS MIGHT BE THE MOST I'VE EVER WRITTEN IN TWO DAYS I'M GONNA BE FOR REAL.. WHAT THE HELL ARE THESE ROBOTS DOING TO ME!!

The amount of times you’d come close—too close—to death because of it made him want to hide you somewhere off in the galaxy where no one would be able to hurt you ever again.

But of course… it wasn’t realistic. He was a soldier. He had a duty to his crew, to his leader, and to Primus himself to stop the Decepticons from enslaving and destroying. To help restore Cybertron one day. And you had a life to live here on your home planet.

Ironic… You had your own life to live, but the young Autobot’s introduction had pulled all of that completely to a halt.

You weren’t just any other teen anymore. You were an easy target—small and fragile when compared to the gargantuan and practically bulletproof alien beings that could crush you without a second thought if they so pleased. All it would take was one mishap, one mistake, one moment where he could be looking away—and it would all be over. The mere thought of it made his spark chamber threaten to implode, and every single time the possibility did flutter across his processor, he forced it away quickly.

None of that could happen. None of it would happen. He’d make sure of it. Once again, he tried to suppress the torrent of thoughts within his helm. Because at least for now, he didn’t have to worry.

The two of you were safe, locked away within his quarters at the plant. The other Autobots had filed into their home base alongside you both without a word, all retreating to their own spaces to rest and recuperate. It was more than needed following the events of the day’s earlier hours.

As he lay on his side, his optics searched every one of your features. Before, you were a mess—covered in dirt from the moment you were forced to duck for cover beneath a fallen tree in the woods. You found a change of clothes and were able to utilize one of the showers that Fanzone had offered to hire someone to fix up. You said yourself that it was a ‘godsend,’ and the look on your face at the moment confirmed that even further. You were comfortable and more relaxed now, allowing your limbs to loll out in all directions and taking the occasional deep breath every few minutes. Your eyes were closed, but he could tell that you weren’t in stasis. He gazed at your freshly-washed hair, but by now it was mostly dry and a bit fluffed up.

You genuinely looked comfortable, but still somehow tense. Bumblebee wondered what was rolling around in that organic brain of yours. It was probably something similar to what he was thinking, he figured.

So, gingerly, he reached out to you. “Hey.”

Your eyes found his optics in an instant as if you’d been snapped out of a trance. Your voice was a bit smaller than it usually was—tired. “Hey.”

After a pause, the scout curled his body a bit closer as if he wanted to whisper to you, his tone level and gentle still. “You wanna listen to my spark again?”

You stared at him for a long moment, and it was almost long enough for him to burn up from the inside out. Then you smiled, and his spark soared. “Yes, please.”

You’d said before that the sound of his spark calms you down. You’d listen to it, match your own heartbeat to it, and fall asleep comfortably. Every time you did, he could feel the way you’d eventually relax completely.

He loved it too.

So the scout leaned over, gently slid his servo beneath you, and rolled onto his back with you in-hand before he let go again. You settled yourself into a comfortable position with your head resting just next to the insignia in the center of his chassis, releasing a heavy sigh and falling limp almost immediately.

Bumblebee’s servos were still there, as if to cradle you or keep you from falling out of place. They were as gentle as they always were; a calm sense of security that neither one of you really recognized was an instinctual act. He slowed his own intakes, leveling his beating spark as it burned and flared with intense affection. He let his helm drop back so it could rest on the berth and he stared at the ceiling in silence.

As your breathing slowed, he thought of sparking up quiet conversation. He could never really stand silence for very long, but he found that moments like these were few and far between—and this silence was a comfortable one. Plus, he didn’t want to interrupt the very thing he’d just offered to you. So he did the next best thing that he figured might soothe you even further.

One of the mech’s servos reached for you again, and he started by slowly rubbing your back with one gentle digit. His touch was light, mindful of his own strength, but still firm enough to create a sense of careful pressure. He stayed locked in that action for what felt like hours, until it eventually moved to your head to find locks of your hair. One digit began to lightly twirl what he could, given the size of his servos. He remembered what you said previously—that playing with someone’s hair was one of the most relaxing things on Earth—and he wanted to deliver you that sense of comfort.

The pulsing of the spark in his chassis eventually calmed and slowed. It was rhythmic, strong, comforting—everything you wanted to hear after yet another day of chaos. The sound reminded you that he was alive, here, never going anywhere, and that you were just the same; alive.

Falling asleep to the sound of it was something you’d never grow tired of.

₊ ⊹ 🐝 ⊹ ₊

It had been a relatively quiet day in the Autobot base for you. Jack, Miko, and Raph were at school taking their final exams, and the autobots were out on an extensive energon scouting mission somewhere in the rural wilderness of Serbia. You would’ve found a trip to Europe to be a fun outing, but couldn’t bear the thought of leaving your favorite medic alone. As you returned from a brief walk around the halls of the base, a loud *clang* followed by a frustrated and exasperated shout could be heard from the main room. He sounds actually pissed off, you thought to yourself before briskly making your way to the main room. You turned to see Ratchet picking up various shattered metal pieces from the floor, all the while muttering incoherent profanities and curses. 

“Ratchet? Is everything okay?” you asked softly, although the concern was easy to glean from your tone. The medic was clearly surprised by your sudden appearance and seemed a bit startled as his blue optics locked onto you. “Oh, (Y/N)... E-everything is fine. I just… was clumsy and dropped the device I was trying to adjust. I um, I’m sorry if I may have startled you.” In fact, everything was indeed not fine with Ratchet, as that morning his thoughts had gotten away from him and locked onto you, and not in the way he usually enjoys.

I can’t upset (Y/N) with my frivolous doubts. Albeit it will be difficult as her mental prowess is always… rather intuitive, the aging medic tried to silence his thoughts and re-focused on (Y/N). Ratchet cleared his throat as he noticed you had already conjured up a broom, “No need for that, I shall clean up my own mess.” You paused at the increasingly odd behavior of the normally composed medic, and you began to grow suspicious of why he seemed to be hiding something from you. 

You two had been close for some time, albeit when you first met the resident Autobot medic it wasn’t a great first meeting. With Ratchet insisting the base was getting far too crowded. You quickly won him over though. Unlike the kids, you were far more mature and patient, and you didn’t actively break his tools or go off placing yourself in unnecessary danger, like a certain someone with pink puffball hair… Another admirable quality you possessed was your sharp mind, and your ability to quickly grasp new concepts and actually be interested in things like science.

The first time Ratchet really noticed you was when he was struggling to decipher an unfamiliar set of code which had come into their possession regarding imperative intel. Despite applying the standard techniques to decipher the code, there was some sort of new trick that had been embedded in the code. As (Y/N) had watched the medic continuously failed to succeed, you had been watching closely, and had noticed the answer didn’t lie in breaking the code through conventional means, rather through a visual pattern. Your sharp eye and wit had spotted a pattern of certain colors and symbols, and after explaining this to Ratchet, the two of you were able to team up and crack the code. 

“Ratchet… What’s actually going on? You seem upset at more than accidentally breaking something. You know you can tell me anything, right?” You looked up at him, hoping the medic would let you help him. Primus, she’s onto me, Ratchet quickly finished picking up the broken mess on the floor, before turning towards (Y/N). “I appreciate your concern for me, I do, but I insist it was just a fleeting moment of frustration. Nothing more.” Before you could open your mouth to say anything else, the comms system flashed and Optimus Prime’s voice sounded over the audio “Ratchet, we require your presence immediately. We are taking Decepticon-fire and Arcee is down!”

His azure optics widened in surprise before turning to you. “I’ll man the groundbridge. …Be careful, otherwise I may throw a wrench at you” you had an ever-so-slight smile on your face, but your heart was still heavy as no one could ever foresee when things would go wrong. “I promise to return unharmed” Ratchet said softly, hoping that you wouldn’t fret too much over him, before powering up the groundbridge and speeding through in his alt-mode. 

As Ratchet sped through the swirling vortex of green and blue energy, his thoughts from earlier resurfaced. He had been replaying the moment you had first met, the first time you had touched servos/hands, the moments where he would place you on his shoulder as you both reviewed data and worked on projects.

The memory that was the source of his inner turmoil was the first time you kissed. You had shifted your weight on his shoulder and just planted one right on his lips. He could remember the rush of heat to his entire frame, something he had not experienced since his youth back on Cybertron, and that was a very long time ago. It wasn’t long after that you two had been intimate with one another, albeit it took a lot of learning on his part since you were both an organic and far smaller than him. The size difference didn’t bother him much, as he was very VERY creative. You were so vigorous, energetic, passionate, and youthful…. And youth had long since surpassed Ratchet.

 He should be above silly things such as anxiety or doubt, but now he felt all of his confidence melt away as the thought of such a stunning and lively being as yourself, being held back by an old rust bucket with one pede in the well of Allsparks. The very idea of him disappointing you felt equivalent to losing a patient. Spark-crushing. Perhaps it was wrong of him to think some old bot like him could ever give you what you truly deserved from a partner. …*PEW PEW* The resounding ringing of blaster fire pulled the medic out of his anxious self-pitying stupor, and into a battlefield before him.

Ratchet had only just exited the groundbridge, but he could already make out his fellow Autobots as they duked it out with various Decepticons and Vehicons. He had to focus, as he was here as a medic not a sniveling idiot. As his optics scanned the field for the injured Arcee, he saw the femme leaning against a large boulder, pinned down as she took cover from Vehicon blaster-fire. 

His white and scarlet armor glinted in the light of the sun, as he quickly made his way through the battlefield, being trailed by Optimus and Bumblebee as they provided coverfire. Ratchet was able to make it to Arcee, quickly scanning her to assess her injuries. “I’m fine, Doc. Just a few scratches that’s all,” the two-wheeler calmly stated. “Ep-ep! I’m the medic and I will be the one to diagnose y–” Ratchet was interrupted by the sound of crackling electricity from behind. “Nice of you to join the party, Ratchet!” Ugh, not Knockout of all bots… Ratchet thought, as he saw the ever-polished and buffed Decepticon standing a short distance from him. “Knockout, I am in no mood to deal with your incessant posturing…” Ratchet drew his blasters as he glared at Knockout. “Well they do say bots get crankier as they age, huh? Perhaps you’re better suited as a doorstop at your age?” the Decepticon medic cackled. 

Ratchet felt his energon boil and before anyone could realize, he charged at Knockout, optics wide with fury, “You’ll look like a doorstop once I’m through with you!!!” Knockout was taken aback by the sudden vigor and frenzied rage from the Autobot medic, genuinely shocked as to what had gotten into him. “PRIMUS I didn’t know you could move that fast!” Knockout ordered the surrounding Vehicons to begin firing at Ratchet, but was interrupted by opposing fire from Optimus, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee. Before Ratchet could reach him, Knockout quickly transformed and retreated along with the remaining Vehicons. 

Ratchet had no choice but to stop his charge, but his rage was not so easily quelled. He was boiling over with anger, HOW DARE HE INSULT ME LIKE THAT? HOW DARE HE ASSUME– Ratchet’s angry thoughts were cut short by the sensation of a large servo on his shoulder, and Optimus’s voice. “Old friend, what has gotten into you? Why would you abandon your patient and charge after Knockout?” Prime’s face was full of concern for his long-time friend and confidant as this was out of character. The medic’s rage began to subside, as he realized what a fool he had made of himself. “M-my apologies Optimus, I don’t know what came over me.” Ratchet immediately went back over to Arcee and helped her onto her pedes, ashamed at his actions. 

Back at base, (Y/N) powered up the groundbridge after receiving the call from Optimus. You were still worried about Ratchet, as you had been struggling to think of what on earth he was so upset about. As the portal opened, the Autobots began to make their way through, including Ratchet who was assisting an annoyed Arcee into the base.

As you began to acknowledge everyone’s return, Bulkhead suddenly approached Ratchet, “What the scrap was that about?!” Ratchet’s optics briefly darted towards the wrecker, but as in usual fashion, the medic turned away and scoffed at the question, “Think nothing of it. Just stress from being engaged in combat.” Despite being assisted by Ratchet, Arcee piped in with her concerns “Bulkhead has a point, Ratchet. You lost it at whatever Knockout said to you. What gives?”

Growing increasingly frustrated with the sudden interrogation, Ratchet snaps his helm around “I’ve already told you that it was inconsequential. Now let me proceed with scanning you for injuries and move on!” The tension in the room could’ve been cut with a knife as the rest of the group falls silent, and no one presses the matter further. Standing at the controls, you were taken aback by Ratchet’s behavior, as this was severely out of character for your normally patient, if a bit sassy-medic. But you remained silent as you watched Arcee begrudgingly allow Ratchet to assess her. 

It wasn’t long before Arcee returned to the main area of the base, being cleared of any injuries by Ratchet, but you noticied that he had yet to reappear. Normally the only other area on base you could find Ratchet would be in one of the back storerooms which usually housed various supplies. You quietly made your way through the halls, the faint sound of something falling making you hone in on one particular room. The motion-sensors on the door allowed you entry into the storeroom, and you quickly spotted Ratchet with his back turned against one of the shelves. It felt as if you were walking on glass as you approached him, “...Ratchet? You’re really starting to worry me. Can you please, please… tell me what is wrong?” 

“...I’m sorry, (Y/N) for worrying you. That is the last thing I would want to do to you” Ratchet replied, but his back remained turned away from you. You approached him and closed the door behind you. Stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around his heel in a hug, hoping your touch would comfort him “I know. But Ratchet…. You are hurting yourself by holding in.. whatever it is that’s making you act this way. We’ve been through too much for you to shut yourself off from me.” A heavy sigh escaped from the medic’s vents and he shifted his frame to look at you.

As you briefly stepped back, he knelt down to move his faceplate closer to your level, “You deserve to know of course… You deserve better. …Perhaps if I was in a different field of medical training, I would be better suited to explain myself, so I shall try my best.” He took a deep breath, clearly struggling “I’ve been concerned that I may not be the mech best suited for you.” 

You stood before him frozen as you struggle to process his words, “...Come again?” Ratchet felt as if someone were twisting a blade in his gut, but continued, “I meant that you deserve the best. You are so kind and full of life and vigor, and I am perhaps too old to provide you with what a younger mech could.” He can’t bear to meet your gaze any longer, and turns his face away from you in shame. He is shocked to feel a brief sting on his helm, looking back to see you holding a small wrench in your hands. “Hopefully that will knock some sense back into you” your eyes were welling-up with tears as you dropped the wrench.

“You really think your age would change how I feel for you? You think I would care what anyone, bot or con or human has to say about it?” You approach Ratchet and gently place your hands on his cheeks, staring deeply into his optics, “Ratchet, you are the only man for me. So what if you’re mature and full of experience? You’re my one and only and don’t ever think otherwise.” You lean in and plant a deep and sweet kiss against his cool lips. 

It felt like time stood still as he looked at your beautiful face. Your warm lips were like fireworks as you pressed them to his, How can she be this perfect? How do I deserve her? Ratchet’s mind swirled as you pulled away from him, feeling a gentle brush as he swiped a tear from your eye with a servo, “(Y/N), please forgive me for putting you through such torment. I… I was insecure about many things. I still wonder if I am truly capable of fulfilling all of your needs.”

You stepped forward and kissed him again, albeit with a little more heat. You raised an eyebrow as you pulled away, a devilish grin playing on your lips, “You have always fulfilled my every need. You could always test how well you’re able to please me…?” The look in your eyes and tone in your voice was easy for the medic to decipher. He felt his frame heat up and his engine rev, “...I suppose I can run a few… tests to see the results.” He gave you a half-cocked smirk before gently scooping you into his servo and setting you on one of the upper shelves, before showering your neck and collarbone in sensual kisses.