Categories > Cartoons > Transformers > You Alone
It has been over eight months now. You visited the Autobot base multiple times, familiarizing yourself with everything and everyone. You found yourself a dark corner to hide when you were festering. You would have anger meltdowns, punching the rails and making your knuckles bleed. Ratchet would holler at you, but the meltdowns helped you. Your hands were all messed up, scars all over the skin. For some reason, you liked the pain.
Optimus was your father figure and Arcee was your mother figure. Since your parents died when you were 7, they took over. You hated to disappoint them and they would punish you. Arcee, you were too scared to make her mad. And Optimus, you would have too much guilt.
“[Y/N],” Ratchet called. You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up at him. Ratchet was your extremely grumpy uncle. He constantly got on your case whenever you would have an anger meltdown. He was smart, you still weren’t sure if that was good or bad yet. He taught you a lot of things in the field of medicine. Cybertronian medicine, that was. He still didn’t know much about humans.
“Yeah, Ratch?” you asked, tiredly. You rubbed your eyes, trying to stay awake. You pulled out your android, checking the time. It was 12:24 AM. You yawned, putting your phone back in your back pocket on your jeans.
“You look pretty tired,” he pointed out. You were too tired to give a sarcastic remark.
“[Y/N], you should stay here tonight,” Optimus said, concerned. “I don’t want you driving in this state.” You nodded, staggering over to the little nest you made on the couch. Flopping down, you fell asleep in an instant.
“Ratchet, we should let her sleep in peace,” you heard Optimus say. “Let the other Autobots know not to bother her.”
You let out a small sigh, happy to be at peace.
Maybe, you’ll see Smokescreen tomorrow.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
“Hey, Sunshine,” Wheeljack said into your ear. You jolted awake, startled by the nightmare you were having. Sweating and a still a bit scared, you threw the covers off of you and stepped onto the cold concrete. You looked around, your hair a complete mess. You notice both Smokescreen and Wheeljack smirking at your wake up state.
“Morning, [Y/N],” you heard Arcee say. “Are you doing better?”
You nodded, rubbing you head. “Yeah. I need to clean myself up.” You blushed at little, suppressing a smile. You headed out of the hanger, starting up your Camaro. You drove along your road, noticing two guys who acting quite suspicious. You looked behind you, wondering if an Autobot was following you. You focused on the road ahead of you. Your stomach began to turn, seeing that those guys have guns. You watched them closely, prepared to floor it. They paid no attention to you. Quickly getting to your house, you threw on a pair of jeans and a tanktop. You changed your shoes, touching up on your hair and grabbing something to eat.
You heard a honk and peered outside. Smokescreen was waiting for you, clearly sent by Optimus to keep you safe. You devoured your toast, throwing a sweatshirt on, and locking your front door. You opened the passenger door, brushing the crumbs off of your clothes. You wiped the butter off of the corners of your mouth, still shaking off the last bits of sleep.
“Are you sure you’re alright, [Y/N]?” Smokescreen asked. “You look pretty beat up.”
You shrug. “It’s just one of those days.” You looked down at your scared knuckles, wondering why you had those anger meltdowns. Shifting them under your legs, you look at him, smiling shyly.
“One of those days,” he repeated, a bit of humor coming into to his teenage voice. “Is that common for you?”
You shrug again. “It happens. I don’t know any better. My parents died a long time ago.”
He let out a sympathetic noise. “What happened?”
You sadly touched his steering wheel, for comfort. “A drunk human driving a truck was swerving on the road. My dad was changing the radio station and my mom was touching up. He slammed into the front bummer of their car, killing them instantly. All remember was the police coming to my babysitter and tell me and her that my parents were dead. I’ve lived on my own since then.”
He was quiet while you told your story. “Wow. That’s rough. How old are you now?”
“21,” was your reply.
“So, you don’t have any more family? You live alone?”
“I’ve done well since they’ve been gone. I mean, I am alive still and I can very well fend for myself.”
His engine made a sort of snorting noise, as you could tell he was laughing at you. You drew back, opening your jaws to spit out a defensive remark.
“Easy, [Y/N],” he snorted. “I’m just playing around with you.” You quickly covered up your smile with your hands, hoping he didn’t see it. You cast your gaze to the reddish-brown rocks that seemed to tower above you as Smokescreen sped along the road, throwing up dirt behind him.
“Are we going back to base?” you inquired. You had always tried to remember which enormous rock mass belonged to the Autobot hangar. To you, every darn rock looked exactly the same, there was no way you could ever tell the difference.
“Yup,” he replied, the hangar door sliding open for him to enter in. He slowed himself down a bit, stopping to let you out when they reached the others. You hopped out and he transformed, looking up at the others. He transformed behind you, crossing his arms across his chassis.
When you panned your head around a bit, you noticed Optimus, Arcee, Wheeljack, and Bumblebee were gone. You pouted a bit, jutting your lower lip outwards like a two year old. For once, you actually wanted to see the Autobot leader and your mother figure. Of course they weren’t there.
It seemed that Smokescreen noticed your pouting face and gently nudged you with his ped. “Why are you looking like that?”
You blew a piece of your blonde hair out of your eyes, huffing. “The one day I actually wanted to see Optimus and Arcee, they’re not here.” You threw your hands up in exasperation.
Ratchet was at his computer, typing weird Cybertronian things into it. He flinched at the sound of your frustrated loud voice and let out a groan. “[Y/N], calm down, will you?” He turned to look down at you with his usual: “I’m trying to work, shut up” look. You narrow your eyes, shooting him a venomous look.
“Where did Optimus go?” you asked him through clenched teeth and an angry smile.
“We received multiple Decepticon signals near an energon mine,” Ratchet responded dryly. “Optimus went to investigate.” He turned away from your now flustered state and continued to type on his alien computer.
You let out a growl, working your boot into the concrete. Smokescreen looked at Ratchet, then at you with a concerned look.
“[Y/N], you look like your about to burst with anger,” he stated, crouching down to be somewhat level with you. He extended a plated metal finger and gave you a gentle nudge. “Calm down. If I know Optimus, he’ll be back before you know it.”
“Ratchet,” Optimus’ voice sounded over their comm link. “We have a situation.”
You unfolded your arms, giving the mech a look. “You were saying?” You heaved a loud and long sigh, falling backwards and landing on your butt with a grunt. You pulled your phone out, crossing your legs and turning the screen on. You noticed Smokescreen in your peripheral vision, he was intent on listening to the conversation. Then you saw the look of determination appear and he transformed.
From your spot on the floor, you sprang up quickly. Rushing over to his driver side door, you leaned on him. “Where are you going?”
“Optimus is in trouble,” he told you quietly. “Ratchet doesn’t want me to, but I’m going to help.” You put your elbows on the top of his car form, your head between your arms. You crossed your legs at the ankles, thinking.
“What if Ratchet catches you?” you warned. “You know him. He’ll go on for cycles about following orders and listening to him because he’s just some know-it-all.” Your fingers tapped his roof, trying to get your brain to think up a plan.
“[Y/N], get off of me,” Smokescreen whispered urgently. “You’ll get hurt.”
You yanked open his door, before he could lock you out. Sliding inside of him, you strapped yourself to his seat. “There’s no way I’m letting you go into danger like that and get killed.” You heard him sigh, and you two drove out of the hangar.
“You really aren’t going to let me go alone, are you?” he asked you.
You stubbornly folded your arms across your chest. “No slagging way.”
He chuckled. “I like you.”
Optimus was your father figure and Arcee was your mother figure. Since your parents died when you were 7, they took over. You hated to disappoint them and they would punish you. Arcee, you were too scared to make her mad. And Optimus, you would have too much guilt.
“[Y/N],” Ratchet called. You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up at him. Ratchet was your extremely grumpy uncle. He constantly got on your case whenever you would have an anger meltdown. He was smart, you still weren’t sure if that was good or bad yet. He taught you a lot of things in the field of medicine. Cybertronian medicine, that was. He still didn’t know much about humans.
“Yeah, Ratch?” you asked, tiredly. You rubbed your eyes, trying to stay awake. You pulled out your android, checking the time. It was 12:24 AM. You yawned, putting your phone back in your back pocket on your jeans.
“You look pretty tired,” he pointed out. You were too tired to give a sarcastic remark.
“[Y/N], you should stay here tonight,” Optimus said, concerned. “I don’t want you driving in this state.” You nodded, staggering over to the little nest you made on the couch. Flopping down, you fell asleep in an instant.
“Ratchet, we should let her sleep in peace,” you heard Optimus say. “Let the other Autobots know not to bother her.”
You let out a small sigh, happy to be at peace.
Maybe, you’ll see Smokescreen tomorrow.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
“Hey, Sunshine,” Wheeljack said into your ear. You jolted awake, startled by the nightmare you were having. Sweating and a still a bit scared, you threw the covers off of you and stepped onto the cold concrete. You looked around, your hair a complete mess. You notice both Smokescreen and Wheeljack smirking at your wake up state.
“Morning, [Y/N],” you heard Arcee say. “Are you doing better?”
You nodded, rubbing you head. “Yeah. I need to clean myself up.” You blushed at little, suppressing a smile. You headed out of the hanger, starting up your Camaro. You drove along your road, noticing two guys who acting quite suspicious. You looked behind you, wondering if an Autobot was following you. You focused on the road ahead of you. Your stomach began to turn, seeing that those guys have guns. You watched them closely, prepared to floor it. They paid no attention to you. Quickly getting to your house, you threw on a pair of jeans and a tanktop. You changed your shoes, touching up on your hair and grabbing something to eat.
You heard a honk and peered outside. Smokescreen was waiting for you, clearly sent by Optimus to keep you safe. You devoured your toast, throwing a sweatshirt on, and locking your front door. You opened the passenger door, brushing the crumbs off of your clothes. You wiped the butter off of the corners of your mouth, still shaking off the last bits of sleep.
“Are you sure you’re alright, [Y/N]?” Smokescreen asked. “You look pretty beat up.”
You shrug. “It’s just one of those days.” You looked down at your scared knuckles, wondering why you had those anger meltdowns. Shifting them under your legs, you look at him, smiling shyly.
“One of those days,” he repeated, a bit of humor coming into to his teenage voice. “Is that common for you?”
You shrug again. “It happens. I don’t know any better. My parents died a long time ago.”
He let out a sympathetic noise. “What happened?”
You sadly touched his steering wheel, for comfort. “A drunk human driving a truck was swerving on the road. My dad was changing the radio station and my mom was touching up. He slammed into the front bummer of their car, killing them instantly. All remember was the police coming to my babysitter and tell me and her that my parents were dead. I’ve lived on my own since then.”
He was quiet while you told your story. “Wow. That’s rough. How old are you now?”
“21,” was your reply.
“So, you don’t have any more family? You live alone?”
“I’ve done well since they’ve been gone. I mean, I am alive still and I can very well fend for myself.”
His engine made a sort of snorting noise, as you could tell he was laughing at you. You drew back, opening your jaws to spit out a defensive remark.
“Easy, [Y/N],” he snorted. “I’m just playing around with you.” You quickly covered up your smile with your hands, hoping he didn’t see it. You cast your gaze to the reddish-brown rocks that seemed to tower above you as Smokescreen sped along the road, throwing up dirt behind him.
“Are we going back to base?” you inquired. You had always tried to remember which enormous rock mass belonged to the Autobot hangar. To you, every darn rock looked exactly the same, there was no way you could ever tell the difference.
“Yup,” he replied, the hangar door sliding open for him to enter in. He slowed himself down a bit, stopping to let you out when they reached the others. You hopped out and he transformed, looking up at the others. He transformed behind you, crossing his arms across his chassis.
When you panned your head around a bit, you noticed Optimus, Arcee, Wheeljack, and Bumblebee were gone. You pouted a bit, jutting your lower lip outwards like a two year old. For once, you actually wanted to see the Autobot leader and your mother figure. Of course they weren’t there.
It seemed that Smokescreen noticed your pouting face and gently nudged you with his ped. “Why are you looking like that?”
You blew a piece of your blonde hair out of your eyes, huffing. “The one day I actually wanted to see Optimus and Arcee, they’re not here.” You threw your hands up in exasperation.
Ratchet was at his computer, typing weird Cybertronian things into it. He flinched at the sound of your frustrated loud voice and let out a groan. “[Y/N], calm down, will you?” He turned to look down at you with his usual: “I’m trying to work, shut up” look. You narrow your eyes, shooting him a venomous look.
“Where did Optimus go?” you asked him through clenched teeth and an angry smile.
“We received multiple Decepticon signals near an energon mine,” Ratchet responded dryly. “Optimus went to investigate.” He turned away from your now flustered state and continued to type on his alien computer.
You let out a growl, working your boot into the concrete. Smokescreen looked at Ratchet, then at you with a concerned look.
“[Y/N], you look like your about to burst with anger,” he stated, crouching down to be somewhat level with you. He extended a plated metal finger and gave you a gentle nudge. “Calm down. If I know Optimus, he’ll be back before you know it.”
“Ratchet,” Optimus’ voice sounded over their comm link. “We have a situation.”
You unfolded your arms, giving the mech a look. “You were saying?” You heaved a loud and long sigh, falling backwards and landing on your butt with a grunt. You pulled your phone out, crossing your legs and turning the screen on. You noticed Smokescreen in your peripheral vision, he was intent on listening to the conversation. Then you saw the look of determination appear and he transformed.
From your spot on the floor, you sprang up quickly. Rushing over to his driver side door, you leaned on him. “Where are you going?”
“Optimus is in trouble,” he told you quietly. “Ratchet doesn’t want me to, but I’m going to help.” You put your elbows on the top of his car form, your head between your arms. You crossed your legs at the ankles, thinking.
“What if Ratchet catches you?” you warned. “You know him. He’ll go on for cycles about following orders and listening to him because he’s just some know-it-all.” Your fingers tapped his roof, trying to get your brain to think up a plan.
“[Y/N], get off of me,” Smokescreen whispered urgently. “You’ll get hurt.”
You yanked open his door, before he could lock you out. Sliding inside of him, you strapped yourself to his seat. “There’s no way I’m letting you go into danger like that and get killed.” You heard him sigh, and you two drove out of the hangar.
“You really aren’t going to let me go alone, are you?” he asked you.
You stubbornly folded your arms across your chest. “No slagging way.”
He chuckled. “I like you.”
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