A h h h h h
After much consideration I've come to terms with the fact that I would like to take on the journey of Writing requests, and posting my own Transformers one shots
all information is on the request Page c:
TFP Optimus Prime x Ex!DecepticonCyberCat!Femme!Reader (Hecc, that's a long character desc.) P u r e F l u f f
Description: (not a request) Optimus Prime was the only one you trusted enough to be left alone with. After a tense day, a steamy oil bath doesn't sound too bad... Especially with a certain mech.
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Bit of a different writing style. At least I think-
The music is kinda what you're experiencing later in the story, you'll hear- er.. read where it fits in ➖〰️➖
~~~ Author's POV ~~~
"Oh for the love of Primus, (Y/D) will you stop squirming!? You are making it impossible to properly disinfectant your wounds and I'm running out of patience! I ought to leave them to rust."
The mech sneered, digits tapping his hip plate angrily whilst the other tightened around a bottle of disinfectant spray.
"It burns! You said it wouldn't burn!"
The smaller, feline feature adorning femme writhed around uncomfortably on the medical berth, optics shut in protest to the burning sensations currently pulsing through her forearms. The medic exvented, pinching the area where his smell-receptor(nose) was, grumbling who knows what in disbelief and annoyance.
"Stop being such a sparkling. Would you rather have me remove your arms? Would you!?"
The raised voice struck the femme hard, stunning her into silence triggered by a past fear of hers. Her (f/c) robotic ears flattened against her helm almost instantly, the brutal shaking and thrashing ceasing entirely.
"Done with your tantrum? Good. Now sit still."
Ratchet applied the spray to the energon leaking wounds, dabbing it with a cloth every now and then, adding more spray, repeat entire process till all wounds were patched up. The whole time, the femme was silent, only wincing and subconsciously whimpering at the stinging feelings running along the newly closed lacerations.
"There... that wasn't so hard now was it?"
Silence answered the medic's half rhetorical question. There was a hurt and unsure look on the femme's faceplates as she most certainly was uncomfortable for many reasons. 1, being she was alone with the mech whom she was still yet to trust, 2 the way Ratchet's voice boomed angrily brought back bad memories and 3, she just felt miserable and fatigued.
The medic exvented and shook his helm, an oddly calm aura beginning to seep its way through his cold demeanour. He seemed to realise his harsh tendencies really bothered the femme to the point she became hardly responsive.
"You know what? Why don't you go take an oil bath... That usually helps ease the processor."
Ratchet insisted she took the suggestion to spark and so she soon found herself no longer inside the medbay, but rather in the shower racks. The cold room only helped further chill her already numb frame, joints aching to be relieved of the unwanted tension and compression built up during the day. Thinking back, perhaps an oil bath would do her some good, the odd serenity and stillness beginning to take its toll on her tired processor.
