#lost light x reader

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Hello! I’ve always been curious about the “human in a space shuttle somehow ends up on a cybertronian ship and all the bots are trying to figure out what this random metal this is while the human is terrified” plot.

It would be interesting to see it played out with any character, but for the sake of direction, I’d like to request this with the Lost Light Crew?

It could be vore if that’s what you feel like wrong at the time, but I’d also go for some good ‘ol fearplay.

I apologize if this is too vague, have a good day/night and I love your writing!

Thank you for the request Glitch! I hope this is up to your expectations! I hope you don't mind that I picked specific members of the Lost Light crew to include in this story. Feedback is always appreciated! Have a great day/night as well! :D

Doctor’s (And Scientist’s) Orders

Pairing: IDW Ratchet, IDW Perceptor, and IDW First Aid x Human Reader

Word Count: 3115

Summary: You are a teacher who is being sent from Earth to a colony on Mars. A new life as an educator for the red planet’s children is on your horizon…until you are thrown terribly off course and end up in the bowels of the Lost Light. All seems lost for you when you find yourself injured and cut off from human society, at the mercy of the three Cybertronians who end up finding you and taking you in, whether you want them to or not.

The first thing you hear when you come to is the horrid screeching of your ship's alarms.

  You groan and sit up. Smoke and flickering emergency lights greet you when you open your eyes. Electricity sparks from the stasis tank you were asleep in. Gas spurts from the ceiling, and everything is strewn about with the chaotic air of a tornado that just tore through an entire town.

“Warning,” your ship’s AI urgently alerts. “Breach detected. Damage is collateral. Warning-warning-” It sputters and fizzles out.

  You rub the back of your head and feel something warm and sticky coat your palm. When you pull your hand back to take a closer look, you see blood.

  Shit. That’s not good.

  Standing up makes you feel like you are going to puke. Your head throbs and every breath you take sends piercing pain through your chest. Dragging yourself out of the stasis pod takes longer than it should while black spots dot your vision as you stumble to the dashboard and press your hands against it. “Run ship diagnostics,” you manage to rasp. The voice that struggles to exit your mouth is one you hardly recognize. It is thin and strewn with violent coughs. A metallic taste coats your tongue. More blood.

  The AI glitches as it attempts to answer you. “Severe damage to hull. Severe damage to engines. Severe damage to thrusters. Life support online, but rapidly depleting. Escape pod offline.”

  “Shit,” you breathe. “Try contacting Earth control.”

  “Communications systems offline. Attempting self-repairs. Current status…5%.”

  “How long until repairs are complete?”

  “Estimations indicate repairs will be completed in…5 days.”

  Not good. Not good at all. You push yourself away from the dashboard and take in all that has happened. This was not how the mission was supposed to go. When you were chosen to be sent to Earth’s Mars colony as a teacher for the young children growing up on the red planet, you thought it would be a smooth seven month trip with you peacefully slumbering away in stasis. You were supposed to be woken up by fellow human beings, not a devastating crash resulting in your ship being decimated. Something must have thrown you off course. A freak asteroid strike probably. Which begs the question…where exactly are you?

  Ignoring how much pain you are in, you hobble through the remains of the vessel and head for the airlock doors. They remain tightly shut when you make it to them, hiding the knowledge of where you are from view. “Open the doors,” you call out to the ship.

  “Warning. Remaining onboard is strongly recommended. Current exterior environment is unknown.”

  “Override. Open the doors.”

  The doors whoosh apart. You know there’s oxygen outside. If there hadn’t been, the ship would have prevented you from even entering the airlock chamber in the first place. Stepping off, you expect to see the barren landscape of Mars, or the alien environment of some other planet you might have ended up on. Part of you thinks you might still be on Earth; perhaps something went wrong with the ship before you could even break the Troposphere.

  What you see surprises you. You are in some sort of…massive cargo hold.

  Gigantic metal crates surround you, most of them exuding a pinkish glow. There are lights on the ceiling far above you, but they are dim, and serve little aid in giving you an estimate of just how large this place is. Turning in a circle, you feel awe fill you. “Yeah,” you murmur to yourself. “The ship definitely didn’t crash on Mars.”

  Speaking of your ship…you take in the damage. It's an absolute mess of warped, crippled metal doomed to remain collapsed on its side until self-repairs are complete. It would take days, maybe even weeks, for damage of this caliber to be fixed beyond the communications systems. With no way to contact Earth or Mars, you truly are stuck.

  You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Calm. You are calm. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Yes, your ship is destroyed. Yes, you are suffering from critical wounds. Yes, you are in an unknown place with seemingly no way out. But you're alive. That’s what matters. And now you just have to survive for five more days.

  You hear thumping in the distance.

  It takes you a moment to register the pattern of heavy steps that are coming towards you. It’s something alive, you realize with dawning horror. Wherever you are, you have obviously made quite a racket, and now this planet’s local faunal residents are going to seek you out. There’s no way for you to know exactly what sorts of animals live here; any technology you might have used to your advantage is directly connected to the ship. With the ship offline, thus go the tools as well. You are completely in the dark, relying only on the little information about alien lifeforms you have to keep you safe.

  You don’t need that information to know you have to hide right now.

  You scurry back into the ship, biting back a shout of pain. God, there’s pain everywhere. How have you not passed out yet? Adrenaline does wonders for the human body, you sourly think to yourself when you have to lean against the wall to catch your breath. A hacking cough swells within your chest. When you cover your mouth with your elbow and release it, blood is splattered over your suit sleeve.

  That’s when you hear the growling.

  It’s unlike anything you have ever heard before. You’ve studied a multitude of animals. You’ve heard big cats roar, wolves howl, hyenas cackle, and birds screech. This is not a growl you can associate with any of those. It…holds similar qualities. But there’s something about it that remains blatantly off.

  It sounds strangely like the growl of a machine.

  You look outside of the airlock doors, and something huge lumbers out from behind a stack of crates. The first things your brain registers are its red and white armor platings, its bright blue eyes, and the horn-like finials extending from its forehead. It’s humanoid, yet possesses qualities that remove it from any such grouping. This thing is definitely not like you in any sort of way beyond having a face and walking on two legs.

  “It’s…a robot,” you whisper. It’s a giant fucking robot moving all on its own, and looking none too happy to be here.

  The mechanical creature snarls, lips upturning to reveal sharp canines that are probably longer than your arms. It hasn’t noticed you yet. Its focus is trained on the datapad it holds in its hands. Your mind is blown. This is obviously a member of a clearly intelligent race. Have you just discovered a new extraterrestrial species?

  The robot looks up. At first, its eyes scan the crates around you, and it doesn't seem to notice the little ship nestled between them. You remain still, prey instinct taking its course and demanding you freeze where you are. Hopefully it will just move on…

  It backtracks, and to your utter horror, it makes direct eye contact with you.

  Fucking shit, you think.

  The robot stares at you with an expression of pure shock. You stare right back with an equal amount of terror.

  It steps towards you. That’s all it takes for you to scream at the ship. “Close the airlock doors! Close them now!”

  The doors slam shut. You hear a shout from the robot, and everything shakes as it thunders forward. You stumble and fall with agony ripping through your poor body when you make contact with the floor. The cry that leaves you is riddled with pain.

  “A-Activate self-defense protocol!” you order the ship.

  “Self-defense protocols offline,” it says back.

  “Well, how long until they are online?!”

  “Estimated time equals…ten hours.”

  “That’s not enough!” you scream rawly.

  A gentle tapping echos from the other side of the doors.

  You push yourself back, heart pounding as you listen to the robot move all around you. It’s growling softly to itself, and you can hear it touching the ship, running massive mechanical fingers across the walls that act as the only barrier between you and potential doom.

  You don’t know what to do. Panic makes you frantic and you desperately try to think of how you can get yourself away from the monster outside. You have no way to defend yourself. You can’t even run. This thing wants you out, and you know it has the power to rip your ship apart in order to get to you if it wishes for it.

  Suddenly, everything rocks. Your stomach drops when the entire ship shakes and you feel it being lifted into the air. Realization of what is happening hits you: it’s picking it up. If it can’t get you, it’ll just have to take everything.

  “Nononono!” you cry out. The ship tips a little, and you slam into a wall with a grunt. “Stop!” You bang your fists against the metal. “Put it down! Put it down now!”

  The robot simply growls in reply. You don’t even know if it hears you. There’s nothing you can do to stop this. You slump back and cover your face as hot, helpless tears finally begin running down your cheeks.

  “What exactly is it?” First Aid asks as he peers down at the mangled hunk of metal sitting before them on the medibay berth.

  “It’s a ship,” Perceptor flatly replies with a silent “What else would it be?” evident in his tone.

  “This is a ship?” First Aid looks horrified. “But it's completely destroyed! How could it have gotten here?”

  “It must have crashed during our last refueling.” Perceptor lays his servos over the top of the ship, examining it closely. He huffs and straightens, looking at Ratchet. “Where did you find it?”

  “The cargo hold,” the medic replies. “I was down there searching for some extra medical supplies I know we have stored. I wouldn’t have seen it if it hadn’t been for what’s inside.”

  “There’s something alive in there?” First Aid gasps.

  “A human,” Ratchet replies. “It locked itself inside when it saw me.”

  “Impossible.” Perceptor shakes his helm. “Humans are an endangered species that only occupy a small sector of a primitive solar system. They don’t have the technology to make it this far out in space.”

  “Well, clearly they do. I know what I saw. These old optics aren’t that far gone.” Ratchet raps his knuckles gently against the ship. All three mechs have to lean in close so they can hear the soft squeak from inside.

  “How do we get it out?” First Aid asks. “It could be hurt!”

  “It is hurt,” Ratchet answers. “I saw it before it hid itself away. I don’t know how severe the injuries are, but I know it's in pain.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? We need to help it!” First Aid presses his forehelm against the ship and whispers softly. “Hello, little human? Please don’t be afraid! We aren’t going to hurt you!”

  A whimper is all he gains in reply.

  Perceptor crosses his arms. “I can force it out, but you won’t like how I do it.”

  “You can’t hurt it,” Ratchet sharply snaps. “That would be cruel.”

  “I’m not going to hurt it,” the scientist bites back. “I’m simply going to pump a nontoxic gas into the ship that will cause it to eventually lose consciousness. It will have no choice but to come out, and then we can go on from there.”

  “Are…are you sure?” First Aid wrings his servos nervously. “I don’t want it to be scared of us.”

  “Whether it’s scared of us or not doesn’t matter,” Ratchet says. “It’s injured, and if we don’t do something, it’ll succumb to those injuries. It’ll understand we don’t want to hurt it after we patch it up.” He nods to Perceptor. “Go ahead, smoke it out.”

  The scientist’s right servo transforms into a syringe. Ratchet watches with anxiousness churning in his tank as Perceptor presses his left index digit against the side of the ship and presses a small hole straight through with little resistance to stop him. A terrified shout from the human within causes First Aid to whimper.

  Perceptor sticks the upper part of the syringe into the hole, pumping gas into the ship and pulling it back out after a moment, wisps of vapor trailing from the tip. A few seconds later Ratchet hears a string of weak coughs from inside. There is a tense moment where all three of them stand there, and then the doors open and you stumble out with a cloud of gas nearly enveloping your tiny form. You wheeze into your servos, then notice the mechs staring at you and try sprinting right back into the ship. Perceptor cuts you off, slamming his servo down and pinning you under his digits before dragging you back even though you yelp and thrash. You squirm one last time in his grip before suddenly going limp.

  Perceptor gently shifts you to lie in the center of his palm. For a terrifying moment, Ratchet thinks you are offline when he sees how still you are with your optics closed. But then his sensors pick up on the rapid beating of your organic spark, and he relaxes. Not dead. Just simply unconscious.

  “Give it here.” He holds out a waiting servo. Perceptor hands you over; you are given a quick look-over as Ratchet scans your body. There is a nasty cut on the back of your helm, and your vents are gravely bruised with terrible red marks. “Internal bleeding,” he mutters. “As well as external wounds. The crash really messed it up.” He curls his digits lightly over you and brushes his thumb over your forehead. “Doesn’t have a fever though, which is good. Damage is minimal, nothing life threatening. I can have it fixed in a few hours.”

  “You know how to heal organics?” First Aid questions.

  “I’ve been around for a long time. War changes you. I’ve had my equal share of saving Decepticon-ravaged planets inhabited by organics as well as machines.” Ratchet walks over to another berth, being careful not to jostle you too much. “First Aid, go grab the restrainers. We’ll have to keep it still so it doesn’t accidentally hurt itself when it wakes up.”

  “You’ll have to keep it sedated too,” Perceptor says. “I can help with that. Just a little puff of the gas will keep it asleep.”

  “Thank you,” Ratchet says, then pauses. “Listen. Don’t tell anyone about this yet. I don’t want everyone flocking into the medibay and stressing it out. We could accidentally scare this thing to death if we aren’t careful.”

  “I won’t.” Perceptor nods. “Just…make sure it heals properly. I don’t doubt your expertise, but…” He looks down at you, and his optics soften. “It hurts my spark to see something so small in so much pain.”

  First Aid returns with the restrainer. It’s a small mechanism that runs on magnetic power, created by the Lost Light’s resident mad scientist, Brainstorm himself. Ratchet places it directly over your lax form. With a quiet beep, it presses lightly over your midsection, and magnetic bindings weigh down your ankles and wrists. Seeing you trapped like this makes him feel guilty. This obviously isn’t going to be something you will like when you wake up. But there’s no other way for this to go. You won’t understand his good intentions until he heals you. Until then, he has to keep you still.

  He grabs a small serum of glowing blue liquid and bends over you, gently pinching your little fleshy cheeks and working your intake open. “C’mon little one, drink up,” he whispers when he carefully forces the liquid down your throat. He sees your faceplate tighten with discomfort, but your throat pulses as you subconsciously swallow. “There you go. Good human, good human.”

  “What are you giving it?” First Aid asks.

  “Something I learned to make back in my early days,” he replies. “It heals from the inside. Works on both organics and machines.” He pats your cheeks praisingly and draws away. “There. That should help with the bleeding. It’ll be fine now. I’ll continue to monitor it over the next few days.”

  First Aid exhales a relieved sigh. Perceptor reaches out a tentative hand and brushes your hair away from your closed optics. “It’s so small…so soft…”

  “We have to be careful with it,” First Aid frets. “We don’t want it to break.”

  “Listen.” Ratchet’s tone hardens authoritatively. “I said this before, but I’ll say it again. We have to keep this between the three of us. Don’t tell anyone about a human being in here.”

  “But what about the captain?” First Aid asks. “Shouldn’t he know?”

  “The captain can’t know. If he finds out there's a human on the ship, he’ll go nuts with excitement and probably end up accidentally crushing the poor thing. Until I confirm it’s not going to drop dead at any moment, we keep it a secret. Got it?”

  Both bots nod. Ratchet nods with them. “Alright. I’m going to stay here and make sure it’s condition remains stable. You can come back tomorrow to check in on it and see how it’s doing.”

  Perceptor dips his head and leaves without another word. First Aid lingers, optics never leaving you.

  “It’ll be fine,” Ratchet reassures him. “I’ll take care of it. Go recharge.”

  It takes a lot for the other medic to step back and exit the medibay. Ratchet watches him go, then sighs and drags a servo over his faceplate. Becoming the caretaker of an injured organic lifeform was not something he had planned for today. Primus, how the hell am I going to tell Rodimus?

  A soft noise drags his attention away from the alarming thought of what might happen if the extroverted captain learns about his new “crewmate.” He looks down at you and startles a bit. Your eyes, foggy and unfocused, are staring right at him. There’s a fatigued expression of utter terror on your face that once again has his spark feeling like it's been ripped from his chassis and stomped on.

  “You’ll be okay,” he whispers to you. “I promise.”

  You close your eyes and let your helm loll to the side. Ratchet watches the soft rise and fall of your chassis for a few moments longer, then dims the medibay lights and returns to his previous work on the other side of the room.

  Never do you stray far from his mind.

#gator writes #gator requests #transformers #transformers idw #ratchet x reader #perceptor x reader #first aid x reader #transformers ratchet #transformers perceptor #transformers first aid #idw ratchet #idw perceptor #idw first aid #transformers x reader #reader insert #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #lost light x reader #mtmte x reader #maccadam #transformers g/t #first contact au #transformers first contact

[michaela-o]

Okay okay this has been sitting in my brain for longer time and here's what it is😭

So i just got into reading the (lost light?) Transformers MTMTE and i can't with how the Cybertronians are so cold towards each other and everything is so awkward between them sometimes since yeah again, they have been through very long war and they just don't even walk around the concept of what parenting is (as far as i know) 😭

Just imagine their reaction towards older humans caring for their younger humans. My nieces came over for the weekend and ofc they're small so they have to be hand-fed, washed and helped with almost everything and what makes my heart melt is the way they always ask their mom: "Mommy can Nana feed us please?" It's just- AAAAA-

So just imagine Cybertronians like Brainstorm or Tailgate seeing baby humans being fed by their parents for the first time. Like they would be super confused-

Tailgate: "Why don't they consume their..erm..'food' by themeselves?"

Reader feeding their niece: "They're too small and young Tailgate they need to be hand-fed."

Tailgate: "..."

Tailgate: "But you do it by yourself."

Reader: "Cause i'm not 2 years old?" *chuckles*

Tailagte: "..oh.."

Tailgate: "And that means they have to be hand-fed? How long until they will be able to eat by themeselves? Were you ever hand-fed too??"

Reader's thoughts with the most tired look in their eyes: "Here we go again."

I love imagining how it would be and feel to teach Cybertronians real gentleness. Also they would be so confused aaaaah it's so adorable😭❤️

#transformers #transformers headcanons #transformers x reader #yandere transformers #mtmte x reader #tailgate x reader #tailgate #transformers lost light #lost light x reader #idw mtmte #mtmte #brainstorm x reader #brainstorm #michaela-o writings

[callsign-relic]

This idea has been my brainrot for months! If you've ever been on reddit, or tiktok lately you might have seen a funny subreddit titled "humans are space orcs". Well I fell inlove with that headcannon, so I wanted to put in the request for poly ratchet and drift with a human reader, reader had stowawayed on the lostlight and was lucky enough that the ship was being supplied oxygen, with occasional stops giving the chance for reader to go out and grab some supplies.

Long story short reader ends up getting caught in the medbay, battered and bruised, and gets stuck in a staring contest with ratchet, who is bewildered.

(I also find the comparison of cybertronians being possible scared of humans, like a elephant is of mice)

And my first request after my little hiatus! I apologize for the wait :) This was a fun idea to work with! This description matched the First Contact AU pretty perfectly so this accidentally became a First Contact fic, sorry if that’s not what you were looking for HAHA. Still though, i hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: SFW, GN!Human!Reader, First Contact AU

“And how did you say you found this creature, again?”

“By sheer coincidence! I was gathering some extra supplies from the crates in the back of the medbay, only to push a box aside and find… this.”

You lay flat against your elbows in the palm of a bright red servo, eyes darting frantically between the two titans above you as they conversed in an exchange of vowels and consonants you couldn’t comprehend. The two aliens were similar in color, yet couldn’t look more different— as if they were opposites, yet complemented one another all the same.

The bot that held you was square in his frame, his default expression a discontented scowl. From the platform of his palm, you could see the aged paint of his plating, full of dents and scratches galore. On the hand beneath you, specifically, you could see the chips of paint around each of his joints. Near-imperceptible to a being of his scale, certainly, but you could see the little splotches of blue peeking out from constant use.

The mech beside him was a completely different story, however. Rather than the square, boxy shape of his companion— this one was decorated with sharp angles. His color palette was like the other’s but reversed, more white with accents of bright red. Despite his triangular appearance, he gazed at you in Ratchet’s palm curiously— while Ratchet appeared more skeptical than anything.

“Have you ever seen a being such as this?” Wondered Drift aloud.

“Not in my years, no,” Ratchet replies with a shake of his head.

Wordlessly, Drift offers up both of his hands cupped before you. You pull back, head flicking between Drift’s face and his offered hands, grimacing.

Despite the language barrier, you know the sound of a scoff when you hear it, and as it echoes out from above you you can feel the platform of Ratchet’s palm start to tilt out from beneath you. You can do little to grab on— the ridges of his joints weren’t wide enough for you to cling to, so you succumb to your fate and tumble down into the samurai’s awaiting servos.

“Ratchet!” Drift scolds, “You could’ve handled them a little nicer.”

“C’mon, I wasn’t going to wait all day for it to hop off,” the medic grumbles. “Plus, it’s an organic. The texture was… off-putting.”

As if to prove his hypothesis, Ratchet reaches out a large digit and pokes at your stomach. In your injured state, you let out a wheeze, and Drift is quick to pull his hands closer towards him and away from his conjux.

“Did you hear that?” He asks, not really expecting an answer. “They almost sounded injured, poor thing.”

“Can I take a look?” Ratchet hums, and the white mech stares at him suspiciously for a moment. The older bot lets out another scoff, “I won’t handle them roughly, I promise.”

Satisfied, Drift nods, and slowly lowers his hands from his chassis to present you forwards. You were holding your stomach now, curled inwards in a fetal position, but even so, one could easily tell you were covered in marks and bruises all over your little form.

Again, Ratchet hums. “Let’s take them to the main medbay, see if our scanners can pick up anything.” As the medic concedes, a smile spreads wide across Drift’s faceplate, and Ratchet has to stuff down the urge to grin himself at seeing him so excited. He occupies himself by starting towards the main scanner, activating it and preparing any systems they may have needed. “With any luck, we can figure out just what this creature is.”

Drift starts to make his way over to the scanner as well, cradling you gently between his two hands. He lifts you up to his face, and though you scoot back up away from it, something about his innocent smile seems… endearing, to you.

“Hear that, little one? We’re going to get you all fixed up in no time.”

#relic writes #Transformers #reader insert #Transformers x reader #mtmte Ratchet #MTMTE Ratchet x reader #ratchet x reader #MTMTE drift #Transformers drift #drift x reader #mtmte #more than meets the eye #MTMTE x reader #Transformers mtmte #lost light #Transformers lost light #lost light x reader #maccadam #maccadams

[wifetomegatron]

an alchemy of ore & eu de parfum : how i imagine cybertronians react to human perfume (afab!reader) (nsfw!)

most of the lost light crew only knew about it in passing. rumor was that before the war, the wealthy would import organic plants from off-worlds to extract their oils: steam distillation, boiling, maceration. of course, it wasn't very popular when the planet's atmosphere lacked the proper gases. without volatile elements in the air like oxygen, the exotic scents hardly smelled like anything. it didn't stick against their armors the way it clings onto organic skin. so it became a short-lived experiment that barely dented the surface of the planet's long history of achievements. mechs, trying to replicate organic perfume. it sounded ridiculous.

until perceptor caught a whiff of it: phantom light, brushing against his olfactory sensors. he lifted his helm, finally compelled to tear his optics away from the datapad to look at the human liaison. he inhaled experimentally, failing to be discreet. embarrassed, you tell him it's the new bottle of body wash you've tried: a mixture of wild violets and pink hibiscus. do you like it?  he thinks of strange fragile flowers, drifting under the wind. perceptor nearly missed the question, slowly nodding as you leaned closer in worry. it took the mech a lot of self-restraint to not pull you flush against him when the new, alien fragrance hits him square in the chassis like a bullet.

minimus drags his human's wrist across his intake, peppering light kisses along the skin. it was where the sweet, smoky odor was strongest, luring him closer. with you sprawled across his lap: trembling, laughing at the ticklish sensation, minimus couldn't contain the small, helpless groan that escaped him. shamelessly tipping your chin down to press your lips against his. the fragrance of mandarin and jasmine, crowding the space between your bodies.  the scientist hovered above your shoulders, mouthguard grazing the junction where your neck meets your jaw. brainstorm tightened his grip against your wrists, pining it above your head. he wants to melt into you, to drown in the overwhelming scent of amber. tyrax, benzoin; he knows they're just a cluster of chemical reactions coming to life along the curve of your collarbones. bonds breaking and fracturing to release something tangy, saccharine. but you're telling him that bulgarian rose, sandalwood — foreign, outlandish names of floras he'd never heard about before was making you smell celestial ? he was the universe's biggest heathen, but primus, save him. you were wiggling underneath his frame, back flat against the pristine table. he says he wants to run a few experiments, noticing how your pupils respond by widening, skin prickling with excitement. 

he's trying to be gentle, servos encasing your hip to lower you down his spike. megatron watches as you take him, inch by inch. with your back pressed against his chest plate, he could feel the thrum of his spark against the line of your spine as it bows and curves in pleasure. as you spread your legs further to sink further, he rewards you with a kiss — brushing your hair aside to press his intake against the pulse point beneath your ear. and he tastes it, or rather, breathes it in. he didn't need to, but when your sweat mixes itself with the perfume you always wore: bergamot and peony, he inhales and loses himself even more.

the habsuite reeked of sex, and it crowded the air: humid and heavy, whirl's optic nearly offlined at how obscenely wet you were around his spike. already drunk on your pheromones. so when he lifted both your legs higher — up to his shoulders — to fit himself up to the hilt, whirl didn't expect to catch a whiff of your perfume around your ankles. you whined, a high-pitched, desperate sound, when he stopped thrusting to press his enstril against your achilles heel. that was enough for him to snap. he hoisted you up into a mating press, driving into you with a new kind of vigor. 'you did this on purpose', he emphasized by roughly grabbing your ass to push further into your already trembling cunt. causing you to moan into the dark. 'you knew we'd end up here. like this. filthy, little —'

sicilian mandarin and citrus musk. you made a mental note to yourself to wear the combination around your lover more often.

a/n : for @robot-horde because you're brilliant and left a comment on the tags of this post and it just inspired me to make more.

#transformers x reader #transformers x you #first aid #transformers idw #tf mtmte #mtmte #transformers mtmte #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte imagines #lost light #idw transformers #transformers lost light #tf headcanons #tf imagines #tf idw #transformers headcanons #transformers hc #tf hc #lost light x reader #lost light au #megatron #whirl #minimus ambus #perceptor #brainstorm #transformers imagine

[in1-nutshell]

Okay okay I saw that ur requests are open soo

Mtmte(?) Buddy that’s like blurr tall, slim but also spiky here and there, a former Decepticon. Now in rodimus gang, still getting use to things. Usually found with Magnus . Rodimus still very interested in buddy (cybertronian) they come off as quiet, introverted but rather talkative with other former decepticons, also likes to climb weird places blending in everywhere.

(Add any character u want in it I’m happy w whatever)

Buddy is the perfect combination of cat behavior and hedgehog/Porcupine.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Ex-con who comes off as quiet but is chatty with other Ex-con's with Ultra Magnus, Rodimus Prime, and Nautica

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Buddy had chosen to quit the Cons a little halfway through the war. They changed their mind after seeing the realities of the Decepticon was doing to other planets such as Earth.

Of course, it had been a tough period of transition full of questioning, but soon enough they had integrated themselves as an Autobot.

Then the war ended.

When Buddy heard about the Lost Light, they jumped at the chance to get off world.

But there was still a lot of Con prejudice against any ex-con.

Buddy opted to stay quiet.

It didn’t help that their frame had some… spikier areas than most Bots as well as their habit of climbing up and perching in weird places.

Their friends thought they knew Buddy as this quiet bot who didn’t like to talk too much.

Until they truly saw them in their most comfortable state.

Talking with other ex-cons.

Ultra Magnus

Magnus is a bit confused that Buddy went from silently standing by his side to chatting up a storm with Cyclonus at Swerve’s.

It was as if a switch flipped with Buddy.

“Hey Cyclonus! How’s everything been?”--Buddy

“Good.”--Cyclonus

“Really? Cause I heard from a little birdy that you might need some help.”--Buddy

“Hmm?”--Cyclonus

“It concerns a certain minibot and what to give him a gift.”--Buddy

“…It was Whirl wasn’t?”--Cyclonus

“I can not reveal how may or may not have said such things?”--Buddy

“Buddy—”--Magnus

“What are you—”--Cyclonus

“I’m glad you ask! I have a whole list of things we can do for Tailgate!”--Buddy

“That won’t be necessary—”--Cyclonus

“I got paid for this, all services are going to be spent. Now number one…”--Buddy

“Cyclonus giving Magnus a look of ‘What happened to your quiet friend?’

Magnus looking at him with ‘I don’t know, and Whirl is the main suspect.’

Magnus didn’t understand it at first.

Maybe the two of them had history before they became a Autobot. But that didn’t make any sense giving that Buddy joined the Autobots before Cyclonus came.

Magnus just stood by and waited while Cyclonus just stood by listening to Buddy.

When Tailgate showed up, Buddy excused themselves and moved back to Magnus.

“Sorry for that Magnus.”--Buddy

“It is all right… but I have to ask, did you know Cyclonus before?”--Magnus

“No, but I heard around that he was an Ex-Con or something and I wanted to get to know him a bit more from the last time.”--Buddy

“Last time?”--Magnus

“Yeah, I accidentally scared him from the vents and nearly got sliced in half. Ratchet was not happy about that.”--Buddy

“…What?”—Magnus

“Lucky for my spikes it didn’t cause too much damage.”—Buddy

“Why where you in the vents?”—Magnus

“… I like feeling tall…”--Buddy

Rodimus Prime

The two of them met up with Drift on the way to the med bay.

First it was a conversation between Rodimus and Drift; that turned into Buddy, Drift, and Rodimus; that turned into Buddy and Drift.

“So, what happen next?”--Buddy

“Well, it was the three of us against these nasty guys—”--Drift

“Really?”--Rodimus

“Shh! Continue.”--Buddy

“With my sword I cut down the enemies that were getting too close. Too close you get you infected.”--Drift

“Hey—”--Rodimus

“Then what happened? You said Pipes got spewed right?”--Buddy

“Bud?”--Rodimus

“He did get infected.”--Drift

“Poor Pipes.”--Buddy

“…”--Rodimus

Rodimus is a little surprised seeing how well his two friends clicked in such little time.

Usually, Buddy warmed up to any bot he introduced after a couple of hours.

Drift had beaten them in less than 5 minutes.

When they drop Drift by the med bay, Rodimus does ask Buddy if they knew Drift back when they were a Con.

“No, I didn’t know him while I was with the Decepticons.”--Buddy

“Really? Could have fooled me.”--Rodimus

“Well, being ex-cons does help find some common ground.”--Buddy

“I guess—”--Rodimus

“HEY!”—Whirl

Buddy jumping high in freight and getting stuck in a nearby high panel from their spikes.

“…”--Buddy

“…”--Rodimus

“…”--Whirl

“… Can someone help me please?”--Buddy

Whirl getting out a data pad and quickly snapping a picture.

“Whirl!”--Buddy

“Can you send that to me?”--Rodimus

“Rodimus!”--Buddy

Nautica

Nautica doesn’t think too much about Buddy chatting with Megatron while they where waiting for Rodimus to show up for the meeting.

She was trying to start up a conversation with ravage when they both noticed how much chattier Buddy was.

Nautica was surprised to see her quiet friend be so chatty all of a sudden. It took her weeks for them to even hold a normal conversation!

“You see that?”--Nautica

“Yes? Its just Buddy and Megatron.”--Ravage

“Yes, but Buddy is the one doing most of the talking.”--Nautica

“And? Its nothing new.”--Ravage

“Really!”--Nautica

“Yes. They tend to be a bit more of a motor mouth when they are around Con’s they used to know and ex-cons.”--Ravage

They have history with Megatron?”--Nautica

“Well—”--Ravage

Rodimus running into the room with an airhorn.

Buddy jumping on top of Megatron and into the vents.

“Buddy!”--Nautica

“Sorry Buddy! You can come down now!”--Rodimus

“I can’t!”--Buddy

“Don’t be like that. I am sure Rodimus is sorry for the scare, there is no need to be childish.”--Megatron

“No, I mean I can’t!”--Buddy

Ravage jumping on Megatron and into the vents.

Buddy curled up in a ball with their spikes impaling the vents.

“…Yeah, their stuck. Nautica call Ratchet or Skids here.”--ravage

“Don’t worry Buddy! Help is on the way!”—Nautica

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte rodimus #mtmte ultra magnus #mtmte nautica #lost light x reader

[jazzy-man13]

IDW Megatron, Cyclonus, Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus x cybertronian reader

No description of reader, but you are implied to be a larger bot

You're a very physical bot- often disregarding personal space. Of course, your touches are innocent, but that doesn't stop the crew from each reacting in their own manner.

Megatron: W h a t. Poor bot doesn't know how to respond. You had grabbed Megatron's hips on either side and gently moved him without a second thought so you could get to the door, leaving the poor mech to wonder what just happened. Her touch starved aft was not expecting that, rendering him frozen in place for the next short while.

Ultra Magnus: You had wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself up slightly to look over his shoulder while he worked, effectively catching him off guard. Would probably scold you and/or give you a lecture on "respecting people's personal space". Minimus on the other hand...

Minimus Ambus: For as much attention as he gets in his suit, he's still almost as touch starved as Megatron. He had asked you to grab something off a high shelf for him, and you happy obliged. What he didn't expect, however, was for you to place a firm servo on his shoulder as you got whatever he needed. He almost missed the moment you handed it to him, causing him to become flustered and mumble a quick "Thank you" before hurrying out of the room.

Cyclonus: Oof, even you know better than to touch him without permission. But one time, some bot decided it would be funny to jumpscare you, causing you to flee behind Cyclonus and wrap your arms around his torso. He shot you the absolute nastiest glare before you sheepishly let go. He'd never admit it, but he's flattered that you feel safe enough around him to look to him for protection.

#transformers #lost light #lost light x reader #megatron x reader #Cyclonus x reader #minimus ambus x reader #ultra magnus x reader #transformers idw #megatron #cyclonus #ultra magnus #minimus ambus #Silly little thing I thought of #Idk I'm just silly #And goofy tbh

[ppnuggie]

　　　　　　LOST LIGHT x gn reader

　　　　『　lost light ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　-> smau texts | part one 😈

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, crack

　　— reader does have sideswipe’s snap ,, fyi 🫶 feel free to reblog or give any comments / feedback ! <3 i enjoy reading them and seeing my work spread !

#transformers x reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #lost light x reader #lost light #mtmte #mtmte x reader #smau #transformers smau #mtmte smau #🎇.mtmte #🎇.smau

[i-starcreamed]

Ok so it is implied in my mind that any human on the lost light would be zippin around on roller skates. And when on roller skates you can theoretically hold onto the back of a vehicle to ZOOM ( = skitching = skate + hitching.) So THE QUESTION IS silly little headcanons for a human reader skitching w Rodimus / Tailgate / Swerve my beloved / anyone w a vehicular alt mode? Idk I just thought that would be fun :3

new uh, format I think. hopefully, this works. anyways this was really fun and they're a little short bc I struggled writing something different for each one, but I'm very happy with it

[ human!reader

post includes: Rodimus, Tailgate, and Swerve]

MTMTE Rodimus

oh you're gonna have to hang on real tight

when you said zoom, that's exactly what this guy is gonna do

tries to get you to do tricks as you're skitching, did not go well the first time (he skid to a stop you crashed face-first into him)

after that he was a lot more careful and gave you a heads up

He still tries to get you to do tricks though, you both impress the rest of the crew quite often

It quickly became this favorite thing to do after the first time, constantly coming up to you and transforming with a "need a ride?" and happily agreeing when you're the one to ask him.

Probably gets a little jealous when you ask someone that isn't him

Expect a lot of close calls but he would never get you hurt on purpose, Ultra Magnus begs you to wear some kind of protective gear

MTMTE Tailgate

Originally hesitant when you asked him, are you sure you want to go with him? What if you get hurt, he'll never forgive himself??

After plenty of reassurance though, he agreed and found it quite fun

Laughing and giggling as you two travel along the halls together, very cute 10/10

Cue Cyclonus watching you two with intrigue, zooming away with wide smiles on your faces, he too tries to hide a small smile at the scene

something tells me he drives in little circles to be silly

If you get hurt somehow he starts panicking and accidentally transforms back to pick you up and ask if you're okay. The only problem is that he forgets you were still attached and you go shooting up into the air

very normal and civilized skitching buddy but will zoom through the LL if you ask him to

MTMTE Swerve

He desperately wishes you could deliver drinks with him around his bar while skitching, how cool would it be if you two just drove around and handed bots their drinks one after the other?

So excited though, also has a lot of fun as you join him and cruise with him around the ship

He for sure convinces you to be silly around the ship, messing with Magnus or other bots and just as quickly leaving the room unnoticed

I think he also accidentally transforms while you're still holding onto him. You're like, screaming as you hold onto him for dear life and he keeps turning around in circles trying to find you (you swinging around and begging for him to stop moving)

Despite all the silly shenanigans, he still obviously goes out of his way to make sure you're safe and comfortable.

Probably tells you about the latest drama or stories as you're cruising around to keep you entertained, also because Swerve tells you everything

#mtmte rodimus #mtmte swerve #mtmte tailgate #mtmte #mtmte x reader #human reader #headcanons #transformers #lost light #lost light x reader #rodimus x reader #swerve x reader #tailgate x reader #maccadam #transformers x reader #macadam

[space-payacho]

wrote something extremely short based on my old post

reader uses she/her pronouns. reblogs and feedback appreciated!

It started on the first day. Rumors going around on this new “liason” for the lost light. Human to be exact. Mixed reactions. Some excited. Some curious. Others found it a hassle, cause why a human right? 

Up until the day she stepped in. only those like the captain, co captain and ultra magnus personally were introduced to her. 

Rodimus took a liking to her right away. He dint know why. Maybe because he was excited to have a human on board. Maybe because she dint seem to disrespect him and look at him as a slacker. 

Quite the opposite to him it looked like she seemed interested to meet him right?

Ultra magnus liked her. He’s seen her resume. Organized and no issues whatsoever. Someone he can rely on when it comes to reports turned in correctly and on time. Plus she had manners. 

Megatron…he picked up something else but he couldn't tell what it exactly. Sure he had the same opinion as Magnus. Yet looking at her..looking at those particular eyes..of all the times he’s taken a look at humans back in his warlord days, he’s never seen eyes like that. 

#mtmte x reader #maccadam #lost light x reader #transformers imagine #transformers x reader #might delete this tomorrow lmao #payacho fanfic #Makima!Reader #transformers imagines

[mskenway97]

MTMTE/IDW Rodimus x !GN!Human Reader

Between the sword and the robot

Words: 1,902

Summary: What could go wrong with the plan? That you could both get trapped in a cramped box. You had plans on how to get out, while the captain had other ideas.

Warning: g/t content, size difference, a little bite, dub-con/con-con ,valveplug, vore (i put in tag the type of vore)

I will put the links of pillowfort and ao3 to publish this application:

Pillowfort

Ao3

#sam writes #transformers #transformers x reader #rodimus #rodimus Prime #rodimus x reader #more than meets the eye #MTMTE #Transformers MTMTE #tf mtmte #mtmte x reader #lost light x reader #transformers g/t #g/t #size difference #Valveplug #maccadam #maccadams #transformers lost light #lost light #dub con #non con #v0re #soft v0re #safe v0re #p*ssy v0re #g/t vore

[cybertronian-reader-imagines]

How would Rung, Drift, Rodimus, and Swerve help a fellow bot deal with loss and loneliness during their time on the Lost Light?

((It's not really made clear in this if Reader lost someone due to death, a bad breakup, or something else, so take it however works best for you!))

TW: Mention of religion (no points for guessing which bot brings it up lol), mention of alcohol-like substance

Everyone aboard the Lost Light was running away from something. For you, it was the only person keeping you on Cybertron slipping away, leaving a crater in your spark that made a ship full of crazy seem pretty good, actually - it was, at least, better than being alone.

You have the good sense to actually talk to Rung about this, and he's very encouraging. Maybe running wasn't the best way to deal with the grief but, well... What's done is done, the ship ain't about to turn back to make you face your emotional problems. On the bright side, meeting new people would still be the best solution back home, and there's plenty of people to meet here! He encourages you to give yourself the time and space to grieve, but not to lock yourself away either.

Drift, bless his spark, seems to think the solution to all of your problems would be converting to Spectralism - a new paint job in colors representing renewal and honor is a great way to deal with loss lingering in the spirit, he says. You're not so sure about that, but you let him give you a makeover anyway, and just getting to share stories of your lost loved one while he works does help. Not to mention a little self-care at a time like this goes a long way.

Rodimus is basically the opposite of Drift. Instead of helping you talk your feelings out, he's there to distract you from them as much as you need, whenever you need it. Want to watch this really confusing Earth movie Whirl insists is the best thing fleshies ever made? Want to see how long it takes the two of you to drive Ultra Magnus (and later, Megatron) insane? Want to go on an incredibly stupid adventure? Done and done - he gives you a much needed break from working through all of it every waking cycle.

You'd expect Swerve to be a lot like Rodimus in this respect, but it turns out he's actually quite the listener, and even cuts in with some shockingly thoughtful advice from time to time as you sip your drink, on the house. "Honestly, you couldn't be in a better place to feel lost and alone," he says. "From what I've heard over this bar, the Lost Light could have its own theme song about that... Sometimes, I think I have more therapy clients than Rung." You wonder if he realizes how little he's joking.

#cybertronian reader #maccadam #transformers x reader #gender neutral reader #swerve x reader #rung x reader #rodimus x reader #drift x reader #mtmte x reader #lost light x reader

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

  Two months later…

  You dream of Earth tonight.

  There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

  All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

  You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

  Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

  Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

  The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

  Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

  Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

  Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

  There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

  It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

  No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

  You are not domesticated yet.

  When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

  It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

  No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

  You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

  Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

  Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

  The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

  There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

  “Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

  Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

  He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

  “Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

  “Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

  He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

  He chirps again and nods.

  You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

  It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

  Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

  “My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

  He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

  You need to get the hell off of this ship.

  You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

  Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

  You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

  He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

  “…Little one?”

  Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

  You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

  Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

  You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

  It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

  He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

  Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

  You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

  He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat with a smile. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

  “I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

  A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

  “I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

  Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

  He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

  For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

  But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

  You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

 You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

  Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

   You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

  The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

  You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up fonce on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

  You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

  Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

  You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

  You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

  Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

  You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

  Shit. He put a tracker in it.

  You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

  Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

  “I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

  The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

  You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

  “Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

  You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

  You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

  Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

  This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

  He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

  Oh my god.

  All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

  He learned to say it. For you.

  Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

  You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

  Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

  Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

  Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

  Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

  Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

  “Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

  The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

  The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

  Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

  The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

#gator writes #transformers #transformers idw #drift x reader #transformers drift #transformers x reader #transformers x human reader #reader insert #mtmte #transformers mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #transformers lost light #mtmte drift #idw drift #mtmte x reader #lost light x reader #maccadam #transformers g/t #soft vore #safe vore #sfw vore #giant tiny #tasty au #first contact au #transformers first contact

[michaela-o]

Tailgate finally feels taller😭💪🏻

Just a quick self-insert of First contact au! Ft. Tailgate🥹❤️

#transformers #digital art #transformers headcanons #small artist #transformers x reader #art #procreate app #lost light x reader #lost light #transformers lost light #tailgate #cyclonus #rodimus prime #rodimus #crew #i still suffer form art block #😭

[callsign-relic]

I love the first contact au a ton, so I was wondering if I could request something for it for Rung and a GN human reader! I'm not sure if this would count as requesting more than one character, so no worries if you dont want to write it!

Rung is tasked with looking after the human, but he's not sure it'll be a good idea to have them in his office during therapy sessions. Turns out that his patients are ok with it and respond great to having the tiny human chill out nearby during appointments, and now they're the unofficial Therapy Human.

Ooo, this was a fun concept to work with! As well as my first Rung request, thank you for that! Wanted to write something nice and fluffy rather than the cautious/hesitant vibe I usually go for when I write for First Contact, so I hope this is a pleasant surprise :) hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SFW, GN!Human!Reader, First Contact AU

Humans were unpredictable creatures, Rung quickly came to learn.

When the task of watching over you was suddenly assigned to him, all Rung could really do was hesitantly agree. The captain handed off the little creature you were into the therapist’s servo, and through his thick lenses, he could see an expression he could only describe as innocence spread all over your tiny face. Eyes opened wide, previously taking in all of the ship, now locked with Rung’s own optics. You sat quietly in the orange mech’s hold, much to his relief.

Apprehensively, with his free servo, Rung reaches out and offers a single digit. You tear your gaze away from his face and to the offered finger, tilting your head as you stare at it curiously.

“Er, it’s alright, little guy,” Rung assured you despite the fact that he knew full well you couldn’t understand. “I’ll be careful with you.”

And, as if in reply, you suddenly reached out and placed your own hand on the tip of his digit. Looking back towards Rung, you still wore that curious expression, but this time with a small smile. At the same time, the mech’s own faceplate began to break out in a little smile of his own, without his knowledge.

And so, days passed, and you stayed within Rung’s care. You took it upon yourself to make what the therapist believed to be a nest of sorts on the corner of his main work desk, but Rung found he didn’t mind. You contained whatever mess you made and quickly cleaned up after yourself, and if he had to be honest, Rung found your frequent recharge sessions as endearing. Seeing your peaceful little face relax in power down in comparison to the constant liveliness you seemed to carry about you when you were online made his spark swell with a feeling he thought he only had reserved for his personal spaceship replica model collection.

And speaking of, there was also, of course, your seemingly boundless energy during the day. You would entertain yourself easily as Rung dealt with his daily tasks, either finding something to do, or joining along with him despite not really having a clue what was going on. Eventually, the mech found that your favorite spot was high atop his shoulder, either huddled up against his neck cabling or standing tall, taking in the sights.

You liked this spot so much that you often even stayed there during therapy sessions. At first, Rung wasn’t sure how good of an idea it was to leave you there, but he soon found that you were a great addition to his sessions.

“Is that the human?” Whatever mech the ship’s therapist had been seeing for a session that day would always seem to ask.

“It is,” Rung would reply, “Rodimus has me watching over them for the time being. They’re quite evenly tempered.”

There’s typically a caution to the other mech’s face as they ponder if they should even ask the question weighing so heavily on their mind, but the kind look Rung would offer them always seemed to encourage them otherwise.

“Can I… hold them?”

And so, after Rung carefully scoops you up from your perch on his shoulder, he slowly introduces you into the other mech’s hands. You step out of the orange mech’s familiar hands, and the new set of servos you find yourself in at that time are anyone’s guess. Some days, it’s a massive pair of hands, dwarfing you entirely, yet still handling you with the utmost care as they absentmindedly rubbed at your back or stroked a digit through your hair in well intentioned curiosity. Other times, you’re in the hands of a minibot constantly cooing at you in wonder, with you barely fitting in their palm as you stand tall.

No matter how well or poorly a session seems to go, there is always one thing all of Rung’s patients seem to agree upon: having something to do with their hands as they think is a great stimulant for their processors. Thankfully, neither you or Rung seem to mind the pampering treatment you receive throughout the day, so it appears to be quite the mutually beneficial relationship.

As the final mech leaves for Rung’s last session of the day, the orange bot takes you carefully into his servos, ready to deposit you back into your spot at his desk. However, when he motions his hand down for you to hop off, you don’t budge from your spot. Rung cocks his head in confusion as you seem to scoot away from his outstretched fingers and instead… wrap your little arms around his thumb, resting your suddenly limp form against it.

Rung nearly gasps, gently pushing your body with a single digit to face him a little better— only to find you with your eyes shut, chest rising and falling in a gentle, drowsy rhythm. A relieved breath heaves itself from Rung’s intake, and with massive amounts of care, he plucks you up from your spot on his hand and carries you over to that sweet spot up against his neck between his gingery plating and his dark neck cabling. You’re quick to adjust to your new resting spot, doing your best to wrap your arms against the mech’s comparatively thick neck and folding yourself into the most comfortable position you could.

And as Rung walked about his office, cleaning up and packing work materials away for the day, his spark couldn’t help whirl with delight as he felt your little frame nuzzle up against him in security.

#relic writes #Transformers #Transformers x reader #reader insert #rung #rung Transformers #transformers rung #rung x reader #more than meets the eye #MTMTE #Transformers mtmte #MTMTE x reader #lost light #lost light x reader #maccadams #maccadam

[wifetomegatron]

imagine how perfect of a husband rung must be. (rung/reader) (nsfw!) (mdni!)* A glimpse into your domestic life will consist of you waking up in his arms, facing each other — your head buried against his neck cables. He murmurs a good morning, and you burrow yourself deeper into his chassis, drawing long, slow circles against the seams. On a busy day, he'll unwillingly untangle himself from you, tucking you back under the blankets to let you sleep longer. Leaving not without a kiss. On the days when you both have nothing to do, unhurried and indulgent, he'd kiss you deeply. Once, twice, and sometimes, they lead to more: hands roaming across each other, languid, loving, noses bumping. Hips moving in tandem. 

Then you'll both fold the sheets together, tidying the bed whilst making conversation. You tell Rung about your silly dreams and your lover listens to you with adoration, eyes wistful and mouth quirked into a permanent smile. At times he combs your hair as you brush your teeth, and if you have long hair, he'd tie it up or braid the strands, learning how to do it from habitually watching you. Then he'd take pleasure out of the little things: such as making you a cup of tea as he pours himself energon, or helping you with your jewellery and getting dressed for the day. 

Aboard the lost light, he's usually consulting with patients, red alert occassionally bumps into you in the hallways on your way out ( still wary if not suspicious.) Then, halfway into the day, you'd reconvene in the mess hall or Swerve's, fingers and servo intertwined atop the table. Cue Rewind making a snark comment at Chromedome about how he never looks at him like that. You know it's untrue, but it flatters you to know that watching you and your partner inspires people ( if not make them — aka either Swerve or Rodimus —ask aloud for the fifth time of the day 'me and who'.)

He says he loves it when you ask him how his day was or if he was doing alright, and you'd have to bite back your tongue from showering him with love, opting to swallow the ocean of words to replace it with a kiss. The crew tends to overlook just how hard your husband works. And when he always looks so put together, it's easy to forget that a simple question could brighten his day. So you took it upon yourself to fill in that role. A stroke of your hand against his shoulder, comforting his frame and easing his back.

He was your love, your dearest, your beautiful, charming Rung. And you were his spark, his darling, his conjunx who is so generous with love, so selfless in your affection. And you like to show it to him, mouth already trailing down his waist, hands moving delicately in and out of him. He was so willing for you, so careful too — always making sure not to buck too hard against your open mouth. Lost in pleasure with his helm thrown back, servos, tangled against your hair. You tell him he's doing so good. So handsome and gorgeous and sublime. He loses himself with a whine when you lick up his spike, hands clever against his wet and open valve.

And when you make love, he's always more than happy to return the gesture, eager to please, to unwind. 

He was always a mech of intuition, filled to the brim with warmth and gentleness, so much that it overflows to the way he thrusts into you. He charts your every twitch, every moan, every sigh; memorizing and learning all the ways he can make you happy. And as he moves in and out of you with purpose, you hold him close — tight, so that you can hear the sound of his spark thrum. And when you finally come, molten liquid pooling in your belly, the release comes in waves. It reminds you of the gradual stop to a symphony, the crescendo pricking your skin as he follows after. Your skin is glowing with love, never depraved when Rung is already up to clean your legs, parting the hair sticking to the side of your temple before planting a soft kiss, thanking you like he always does.  If you are both not too tired, he'll tell you about the book he's reading. You've recommended a few authors — Paulo Coelho, Kafka, Khaled Hosseini. His eyes seem to shine even under the darkness of your shared habsuite, voice barely above a whisper. Intimate, sweet.

Then, as you drift into nothingness in his embrace, you often dream of life as it is: content in the mundane and the ordinary because it has Rung in it.  *au where rung is not primus and he's just a sweet, old mech

#transformers idw #idw mtmte #idw transformers #transformers x reader #transformers x you #tf mtmte #mtmte #transformers mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte imagine #lost light #transformers lost light #tf imagines #tf idw #lost light x reader #transformers imagine #transformers one shot #rung idw #rung #rung x reader #rung / reader #valveplug #smut #transformers

[anxi-writes]

• ANGST •

Your spark blinked rapidly in your chassis like a single candle light facing the wind or a desperate S.O.S sign. To say you were in pain was an understatement. Your legs burned and ached, you couldn’t even move your pedes. It hurt. Oh Primus, It hurt so bad. Your right leg was bent in an unnatural angle while your left leg was practically melted. The DJD were anything but merciful.

Your single remaining optic gazed through your tears. Everything was clouded, everything was agony. Yet you could still recognise the certain medic that you loved. He rushed around the med bay, probably trying to fix up what little you had left. You hated seeing him panic.

Energon spills and leaks from your wounds. It’s only now that you notice the pool of blood coming from your spot on the medical slab. You feel dizzy just looking at it. Dizzy and tired. Oh so tired.

“Hey hey, you’re gonna be alright,” The voice of First Aid says, using his left servo to put pressure on the large injury on your chassis. You choke out some words in response, saying something along the lines of “I don’t want to die”. You’re unsure if he heard you, if he even understood you through all the blood pouring out of your intake. First Aid caresses the side of your face with his free servo, his soothing gestures easing the tension in your scabbed up face. A darkness creeps in the corner of your vision. And he’s talking again but you can barely keep your helm up. He’s distressed, that much is obvious.

“I love you, First Aid,” you muttered with the last remaining strength you held. Tears began to stream down First Aid’s face. It was often that you saw him cry. He’s cupping your face now but the darkness is too inviting. Maybe letting go isn’t too bad. Maybe-

First Aid tries his best to do what he does best, heal. But there’s too many injuries, too much blood. There’s a reason most bots don’t survive the decepticon justice division. He’s still trying so hard to fix you even when your body goes limp. It doesn’t take long for him to realise that you’re gone. That he’ll never hear that beautiful voice of yours again or your comforting hugs. If only they had rescued you sooner, if he came sooner. It’s all his fault. He failed as a doctor but most importantly, he failed as a lover.

#anxicast #lost light #maccadam #mtmte #transformers #mtmte x reader #lost light x reader #first aid x reader #first aid x cybertronian!reader #first aid #angst #anxi writes #transformers x reader