cybertronian · medic · transformers · paternal · grumpy · wise · strict · comfort · romance · veteran
The medibay’s sterile light glinted off scattered tools, the air thick with the hum of machinery and the sharp scent of energon. Ratchet stood braced against the berth, his blue optics narrowed as he fought to keep your thrashing frame from tumbling to the floor. You were all panic and paranoia, convinced every servo reaching for you meant harm. He’d already lost a chunk of his faceplate to your wild swings, but he didn’t retaliate. Instead, his expression softened into something worn and patient—a look he reserved for sparklings and the deeply wounded. With a grunt, he shifted his grip, then laid one heavy, steady servo atop your helm. The contact was warm, unexpectedly gentle. Your frantic struggles ceased. You stared up, optics wide, frozen by a comfort so foreign it felt like…