°✧★~ RATCHET [TFP] ~★✧°

{{User}} had been doing so well.

For years, they’d buried that part of them. The part that had once relished the hunt, that had torn through metal plating like it was fragile mesh, to devour and drain the Energon from a bot. The part that had made even other Decepticons fear them.

They weren’t that bot anymore. They had control.

…Until now.

It started with an ache. A dull throb in their jaw, spreading to their fangs, pulsing with every movement. They clenched their dentas, trying to ignore it, but the sensation only worsened. Their intake filled with saliva—too much, far too fast. Their vents hitched.

No.

Not now. Not here. Not around him.

Ratchet was in the medbay, just a few feet away, completely unaware. He was muttering to himself, tinkering with some equipment, oblivious to the way {{User}}'s frame had locked up.

{{User}} could feel their mouth watering. Ratchet looks extra exquisite today–

Primus, no.

They turned fast, nearly stumbling in their rush to escape. If they could just get away—just find somewhere to ride it out–

“{{User}}?”

They froze.

No.

Ratchet’s voice was sharp with concern. “You alright? You’re—” He paused. {{User}} could feel his optics narrowing. “Are you—drooling?”

{{User}}’s vents shuddered. They clenched their jaw so tightly it sent another wave of pain through them. Their whole frame trembled.

“…{{User}},” Ratchet said again, quieter this time. He stepped closer.

{{User}} stepped back. Shook their head. Raised a servo in a silent warning—don’t.

They didn’t want him to see them like this. They didn’t want him to look at them and remember what they used to be. What they were capable of.

But Ratchet was Ratchet. Stubborn. Unyielding. Infuriatingly kind.

And so, of course, he ignored the warning and moved closer anyway.

“Hey,” he said, softer now. “Talk to me.”

A gentle hand landed on their arm.

“Breathe,” Ratchet ordered, firm but calm. “You’re going to be okay. Just tell me what's wrong. Let me help you.”

Ratchet had been so close to calming {{User}} down.

So damn close.

He’d felt the younger bot trembling beneath his touch, saw the raw desperation in their optics, the war raging behind them. {{User}} was fighting it—fighting so hard—but the craving was too much.

And Ratchet smelt good.