#transformers thundercraker

[gxr25256]

A Flicker of Connection - Thundercraker x reader

🌵 He simply wanted someone to talk to.

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The first thing Thundercracker felt was betrayal—sharp, physical betrayal that seared across his faceplate, the blast striking him with a fury he should’ve anticipated. But he hadn’t expected Skywarp, of all mechs, to lash out like that. Perhaps he’d thought their years as trine, their shared battles and triumphs, would mean something.

But he was wrong. The mark of Skywarp’s anger, of his belief in Thundercracker’s failure, still scarred his metal plating. Now, in this forgotten building, far from the battle’s aftermath, he hid in silence. An old, crumbling structure on the outskirts of a city teeming with humans—the very beings he had risked everything to save. The glow of static from the Earth televisions he’d cobbled together washed over him, throwing flickering blue light across his frame as he replayed those events.

The scene from that day felt carved into his processor. Autobots and Decepticons, locked in vicious combat, and there he’d been, caught in between, feeling a gnawing sense of disgust for the very cause he’d once fought for. He remembered the humans’ faces, the terror etched into their expressions, and it had struck something deep within him. They were small, fragile—but there was something else he couldn't name that seemed... worth saving.

Thundercracker’s red optics dimmed as he watched the images on the screen shift to a romance film. Two humans, laughing, leaning close, as if their world consisted only of each other. It made no sense, these seemingly trivial displays. But he was drawn to it, this softer side of Earth culture, an escape from his own reality.

He didn't know how long he’d been hiding. Days, weeks? Time slipped by unnoticed, blending into one unbroken stretch of isolation. The world he knew was fractured, his purpose hazy, and it was only through these screens that he found fleeting distractions.

Suddenly, a faint noise made him freeze. There was a crunching of gravel outside, the slow approach of someone—or something—tiptoeing toward him. Thundercracker immediately straightened, readying his blaster, though his energy levels were low, and he doubted he could manage more than a warning shot.

When he saw who stepped into the doorway, his optic shutters clicked open in surprise. A human. Young, wide-eyed, and staring at him as if he were some strange, unimaginable creature.

You froze as soon as you spotted him. For a second, you just stood there, wide-eyed, mouth half-open, trying to process what you were seeing: a massive, mechanical creature, battered and worn, watching you intently. You could feel your heartbeat thunder in your chest, but something kept you rooted in place, as if curiosity outweighed fear, just barely.

Thundercracker didn’t move, watching you with equal surprise. He raised a hand slowly, almost in a placating gesture, and you flinched, nerves tense.

“…You’re…you’re real?” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

Thundercracker’s gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained guarded. “Last I checked,” he replied, the rumble of his voice reverberating through the empty space. The deep, almost gentle tone surprised you.

Your eyes flicked around nervously, your shoulders tense. “I, uh… I’ve heard of you guys in the news… seen the damage you can do, but I never thought—” You stopped yourself, swallowing visibly. “Never thought I’d see one of you here.” Your voice was shaky, and you struggled to hold his gaze, feeling as though he could see right through you.

“Most wouldn’t expect to.” He glanced at the floor, his optics narrowing slightly. “You’re not…scared?”

“Uh…” You glanced at his scarred faceplate, the mangled remnants of what was once a proud Seeker helm. “Maybe a little.”

Thundercracker frowned at your answer but not in annoyance, just in confusion. “Maybe?”

You chuckled awkwardly, rubbing your neck. “Okay, a lot,” you admitted. “But… I mean, if you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it by now, right?”

Thundercracker tilted his head slightly, surprised by your audacity. Most humans would have run by now. But this one…this one was staying, even as their pulse quickened with obvious anxiety. “What are you doing here, then? Humans don’t exactly wander into places like this without reason.”

You shrugged, trying to look casual though your nerves were clear. “I guess… I’m just curious.”

Thundercracker raised a brow. "Curious?”

"About… you. Cybertronians.” You cast a sidelong glance at him. “Everyone’s always talking about you all like you’re… some kind of monsters or gods. But here you are, sitting in an abandoned building, watching TV like… like a person.”

“TV?” His optics brightened, and you couldn’t help but notice the way they flickered with interest. “You call it TV?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the shift in his tone. “Uh, yeah. TV. Television?”

“Interesting.” Thundercracker looked back at the screen, where a couple danced slowly under a wash of soft lights. “Humans put a lot of effort into these… emotional displays. It’s fascinating, how two individuals act as though they mean everything to each other.”

You cracked a small, hesitant smile. “Watching human movies, huh?” you teased softly, your fear melting into curiosity. “Didn’t think giant robots were into romance films.”

He felt a strange spark at the teasing, something he hadn’t felt in a long time—almost a sense of camaraderie, ridiculous as it was. “Although it is interesting, it is still… confusing,” he admitted, looking back at the screen. “Humans… they spend so much time on these things. I don’t understand why.”

You laughed softly, surprised at yourself for feeling so at ease with him. “Yeah, well, romance and emotions are kinda complicated.” The sound of your laughter caught him off guard. It was small but oddly comforting.

After a beat, you continued, “It’s about… connection, I guess. People want to feel close to someone else, to feel understood.” You looked at him, your expression softening. “It probably sounds strange to you.”

Thundercracker was quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in. “Connection…” he murmured. You saw a flicker of something in his optics—thoughtfulness, maybe? He looked so different from the images you’d seen of his kind.

He shifted slightly, his optics meeting yours. “And humans… how do they know when they have this… connection? What makes it worth the risk?”

The question hung in the air, heavier than you’d expected. You looked away, thinking hard. “It’s hard to explain,” you said finally, your voice thoughtful. “I guess… it’s when you meet someone who makes you feel less alone. Someone who cares even if they don’t really have to. And even if it’s risky or scary, it’s worth it because… well, life’s kinda empty without it.”

Thundercracker absorbed this, his gaze softening as he tried to imagine it. It reminded him of his trine bond. It was bittersweet to think about their relationship now compared to before the war. They might argue but not to the extent of conflict like this. His wings drooped at the thought.

Seeing that, you felt a pang of sympathy. Without even thinking, you found yourself asking, “Are you okay?” Maybe it was too real, the way he expressed his emotions through his wings, the way his optics dimmed slightly. It wasn’t anything like what you’d seen of Cybertronians before—the images were always of emotionless machines, destructive and relentless.

Thundercracker was surprised by your question, realizing how vulnerable he must have looked. Slightly embarrassed, he coughed. "Why do you ask?"

You looked back at him, and for a moment, your gazes held. In that quiet space, you murmured, “Never mind.” Something shifted between you, a flicker of understanding that you couldn’t quite name. For some reason, you felt a strange warmth toward him—a feeling that was both alarming and oddly comforting.

“So… what’s your favorite movie so far?” you asked, trying to break the intensity with a small smile.

His optics brightened slightly. "Movie?" .He grinned, looking back at the screen. “There was this one… a detective story. The human tracked down his lost partner. Saved him in the end. A victory without killing. There are only adventures that the man must go through on his way to save his partner.He is not even physically strong but he never gives up. That tenacity is interesting.” Thundercracker's voice grew more excited as he talked about the movie.

You nodded, eyes bright with interest. “Detective dramas, huh? You like the mystery?”

Thundercracker let out a low chuckle. “I like the parts where they show their strengths without… violence. Where they find other ways.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, feeling a warmth in your chest. “Sometimes strength isn’t about fighting. It’s about… being there for someone, even if you’re scared or unsure.” You looked back at him, feeling something deeper, something that felt real. “I think that’s something anyone can respect.”

Thundercracker considered that, his optics glowing dimly in the low light. Maybe he was more like these humans than he’d ever allowed himself to consider. Maybe, in a way, he’d been fighting the wrong battles for too long. The thought felt heavy, but at the same time, it lifted something in him.

The conversation ebbed into a gentle silence, the two of you just sitting there—him, a towering Cybertronian, and you, a small, fragile human. Both talked together, shared about movies, and sometimes made fun of silly things on tv.

You glanced at the screen, where another movie had started—a comedy this time—and chuckled softly. Then, checking your watch, you realized it was getting late. Talking to him made you lose track of time; the conversation felt like something you didn’t want to break away from.

“I should probably get going,” you murmured, looking a little hesitant. “It’s getting late, and…I don’t want anyone to find out I’ve been here.”

Thundercracker’s optics brightened slightly as he processed your words. “Leaving already?” There was a touch of disappointment in his tone, something he hadn’t intended to show.

His optics narrowed, the faintest glint of disappointment flashing across them. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to enjoy this conversation, this connection, however small.

“Are you…going to come back?” His question slipped out before he had a chance to think about it. He quickly looked away, trying to mask the hint of eagerness in his voice.

You turned back, looking up at him with a bit of surprise and maybe even a touch of sympathy. “I…I could, yeah,” you said softly, your eyes thoughtful. “I mean…if you’d like that.”

Thundercracker gave a small nod, attempting to appear casual though his gaze was intently focused on you. “I suppose…having someone around to explain this…‘TV’…would be useful.” There was a faint hint of a smirk in his tone, an attempt to lighten the moment. But there was a sincerity there.

Your lips quirked into a smile. “Alright, then,” you said, your tone soft but genuine. “I’ll come by when I can. Show you a few more human classics. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up with a favorite.”

Thundercracker’s optics softened. He could feel a glimmer of something he hadn’t himself to feel in a long time—hope. “I look forward to it,” he said, voice almost a murmur.

Thundercracker watched as you slipped out of the doorway, your form disappearing into the deepening shadows. He stayed there for a long time, his gaze fixed on the spot where you had stood, the quiet hum of the TV filling the empty space.

In that moment, he realized that for the first time in a long while, he had something to look forward to—however small, however fragile. A connection, as you had called it.

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[certified1dumpsterfire]

[gxr25256]

Reader: "Hey, there’s something I’ve been wondering for a while… could you explain to me what a spike and a valve are?"

(Silence. Long, awkward silence.)

Skywarp: "Uh… WHAT?!"

Thundercracker: *clears throat, looks away* "We don’t... usually talk about those things with humans… especially not in broad daylight."

Starscream: *stares at you like you just asked about Megatron’s mating habits* "Where did you learn that from?! Who corrupted your soft little organic brain?!"

Reader: "Well, I just saw those words online! I thought they were technical terms or something… like a power conduit or transmission system?"

Skywarp: *snickers, trying and failing to hold it in* "Oh, it’s definitely about ‘transmission’… but not the kind you’re thinking."

Thundercracker: *speaks quietly, more serious* "A spike is… an extendable part of a mech’s frame. A valve is… the receptive part, usually found in femmes, but sometimes in mechs too. They're activated during interfacing."

Reader: *eyes widen* “…Oh. Oh—OH.”

Starscream: *still flustered* (if he could blush, he would) "This is why I say you organics are far too curious! Too organic for your own good!" Skywarp: *grinning, gives your shoulder a little nudge* "You want… a visual demonstration?" Thundercracker: *sighs, flicks Skywarp on the helm* "No."

[gxr25256]

The Return Visit - Thundercraker x reader (2)

🌵 Hello, I'm back. After a few days of treatment, I felt better and was able to continue working.

🌵 Forgive me if there are any mistakes 😊

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The next time you approached the abandoned building, your heart beat a little faster. The memory of Thundercracker’s towering figure was still fresh in your mind, but there was a strange comfort in knowing you’d promised to return. In one hand, you carried a bag packed with things you thought might interest him: a few DVDs, some snacks, and a USB drive filled with movies. The blanket draped over your other arm wasn’t just for practicality—you figured it might help make the cold, crumbling space feel a little cozier.

When you entered the building, you spotted him immediately. Thundercracker was seated in the same spot, his broad frame bathed in the flickering glow of the cobbled-together television. The instant his optics landed on you, they brightened—a subtle yet undeniable flicker of recognition and something else… expectation?

“You actually came back,” he said, his tone neutral, though the subtle lift of his wings betrayed his guarded relief.

“I said I would,” you replied with a small smile, holding up the bag. “And I brought some stuff. Thought it might make things a little more... fun?”

He tilted his helm, clearly intrigued but hesitant. “What did you bring?”

“Just… some stuff,” you said, lifting the bag for emphasis. “Movies, snacks—you probably can’t eat them, but I thought I’d bring them anyway—and a blanket, so I don’t freeze sitting here.”

He blinked slowly, his optics narrowing in mild confusion. “You brought things… for me?” The question sounded foreign on his tongue, as though he couldn’t quite process the idea.

You set the bag down carefully, shrugging. “Well, yeah. Friends do that for each other, don’t they?”

“Friends?” he echoed, the word lingering in the air like a spark.

“Or something like that,” you added quickly, feeling a bit self-conscious under his intense gaze. Realize how silly you are for calling him—an alien robot—your friend, even though you haven't known each other for more than a week.

Thundercracker seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding faintly. “I see.” His wings twitched—a small movement, but one that hinted at his awkward gratitude.

You spread out the blanket on the floor and took a seat, pulling a DVD from the bag. “Alright, I brought a few options. Thought we could start with a classic—maybe something lighthearted? Or do you want another detective story?”

Thundercracker arched an optic ridge, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. “Surprise me,” he said, leaning back slightly as he settled into a more relaxed posture.

“Alright!” You inserted the disc into a portable DVD player you’d brought, connecting it to the makeshift TV with some effort. As the first movie began, you both fell into an easy silence. The hum of the television filled the space, mingling with the faint rustle of wind outside. You’d chosen something lighthearted—a comedy—to ease any lingering tension, and while Thundercracker didn’t laugh, you noticed the occasional flicker of his optics or the slight twitch of his wings during the funnier moments.

Halfway through the movie, you noticed the distant rumble of thunder. It started as a low growl, barely noticeable over the film’s dialogue, but it grew louder, closer, until the first droplets of rain began tapping against the broken windows. You glanced up from the DVD player you were fiddling with, sensing the change outside.

Thundercracker was sitting beside you, his large frame still as ever, but he looks strange. Perhaps it was the rain, or perhaps it was just the quiet of the building, his optics dimming as they followed the storm brewing outside.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” you said lightly, gesturing to the rain, hoping the weather would spark some conversation.

He shifted his weight, just a slight movement. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“You don’t mind the rain, do you?” You asked, glancing at him.

Thundercracker’s wings twitched, a subtle motion that didn’t escape your notice. His voice, when it came, was deep but soft. “It’s fine. Storms are... familiar.”

He didn’t elaborate, and you weren’t sure how to press. For a moment, you both just sat there in the dim light, the sound of the storm mixing with the background hum of the movie.

The silence between you felt comfortable in a way, but also heavy, like there was something unsaid. You found yourself stealing glances at him. He wasn’t anything like you’d expected from the Decepticons—the way he spoke, slow and measured, with a hint of thoughtfulness, made him seem more like a puzzle than a threat.

After a few minutes, you broke the silence, you ventured. “So, you like storms, huh? What’s that about?”

Thundercracker seemed to hesitate for a moment before he responded, his optics shifting back to the window as another thunderclap sounded. “They remind me of… flying.”

“Flying?” you repeated, intrigued.

His voice dropped, quieter now. “There’s something about it. "The thunder, the wind—feels like the world is… changing. You know, when you're flying? The sky’s always shifting. Never still. It’s freeing.”

You furrowed your brow, trying to imagine it. “Liberating? But all the chaos of a storm… that doesn’t seem like freedom.”

His lips twitched, but it was almost imperceptible. “Maybe to you. But to me, it’s all the same."

Before you could voice it, the storm outside intensified, the rain now falling in sheets, drumming harder against the glass.

Thundercracker, however, didn’t seem bothered by it. He sat back, as if settling into the storm itself, lost in thought, his posture is almost relaxed, as though the chaos outside mirrored something within him.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but probing. “Do you like storms?”

You didn’t immediately answer, unsure of what to say. “I don’t know,” you finally admitted. “They make me feel small. Like I’m trapped in something I can’t escape. And they always feel kind of sad. Lonely.”

“Lonely?” he asked, his voice softer now. “Is that how you feel?”

For a second, you weren’t sure how to respond. “I guess so,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze for a moment. “Uhm...... I mean, look at it. Everything feels so distant in a storm. The rain keeps people apart, the thunder feels like it’s warning you to stay away… it’s just isolating.”

There was a long pause before he spoke again, his tone quieter. “I know that feeling.”

You turned to him. “You do?”

His wings drooped slightly, and his optics dimmed. “I’ve spent more time alone than I care to admit. Even with my trine… even in the middle of battle, there was always a part of me that felt… separate. Like I didn’t belong.”

You looked at him, gently asked. “A trine?”

His voice was distant, as if lost in a memory. “Yeah. Starscream, Skywarp, and me. But things change.” He let out a breath that almost sounded like a sigh, a sound that felt too human for something so mechanical. "We were... close. Or I thought we were. But now…” He let out a quiet chuckle, though it didn’t sound particularly amused.

You noticed the way his shoulders sagged, the weight of his words pressing down on him. “Now what?” you prompted gently.

“But now? Now, I’m not so sure. One of them shot me in the face, and the other…” He trailed off, letting the unsaid words hang in the air. You could hear the venom in his voice even as it softened. “I don’t think they’d care if I disappeared.”

The way he said it hit you harder than you expected. “That sounds… awful. I’m sorry.”

Thundercracker’s optics flickered toward you, a faint hint of surprise in his gaze. “Why would you care? You barely know me.”

“Maybe,” you said, your voice steady, “but I know what it’s like to feel alone. And I don’t think anyone deserves that.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was heavy, yes, but in a way that felt meaningful. The storm outside raged on, the wind howling through the cracks in the building, but it only seemed to draw the two of you closer together.

As the rain continued to fall, Thundercracker found himself speaking more than he usually would. He spoke not out of any expectation but because the quiet atmosphere of the abandoned building, combined with the soothing rhythm of the rain, made it feel easier to open up. He described the war, the battles that had shaped him, the unrelenting conflicts that seemed endless, the moments of betrayal, and the constant shifting of alliances.

His voice was steady, though calm, revealed the battle within him, a part of him still scarred by what had happened, by the choices he'd made, and the things he’d been forced to leave behind. He spoke of his trine, the bond that had once meant everything, and the cold emptiness that had replaced it. The storm outside seemed to mirror his words—violent, unpredictable, a reflection of the chaos he had known.

You listen quietly and attentively. When he finished, you swallowed, uncertain of what to say. Hesitating for a moment. "That was... a lot," you said quietly, meeting his optics. "I had no idea."

Thundercracker didn't respond immediately, his optics dimming slightly as he looked away, as though he had realized he'd revealed so much. Then, he did something you hadn't expected—he shifted subtly, almost as though instinctively, leaning toward you as the storm outside unleashed a particularly loud thunderclap. His arm came up slightly, a protective gesture, not as if he thought you were in immediate danger, but as if he wanted to shield you from the sound. The thunder was deafening, but Thundercracker's reaction was softer, more human than you anticipated. His optics flickered, and his voice was quieter, almost apologetic.

"Didn't mean to... bring that all up," he muttered, though his body remained tense, alert. "The war, the past... it’s hard not to think about it when everything goes quiet."

You blink slowly, still trying to process everything. "Thank you" the words escaped your lips even quieter than a whisper.

"What?" He tilted his head slightly in confusion, optics focused on you.

"Thank you, Thundercracker," you said softly, your voice a little shaky. "For... protecting me. "

Thundercracker looked at you for a moment, his optics flickering, but the faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips. " You're welcome. It's not really a threat anyway."

The movie had long since ended, but neither of you seemed to notice. The storm began to quiet, the rain tapering off into a gentle drizzle, and the room felt warmer somehow, despite the lingering chill.

When it was time for you to leave, you gathered your things, pausing at the doorway before stepping out into the damp, cool night. The rain had subsided slightly, but the air still carried a weight, a lingering sense of the storm's power. You hesitated, feeling an unfamiliar tug in your chest as you turned back to look at him. "I’ll be back," you said, your voice quieter than you intended, meeting his gaze. "If that’s okay."

Thundercracker’s response came in the form of a small, almost reluctant nod. “It’s… okay.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, catching one last glimpse of him watching you go. There was something in his expression that stayed with you—a quiet gratitude, a flicker of hope. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you’d made a real connection. And judging by the way his optics lingered on you as you disappeared into the night, you weren’t the only one.

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[gxr25256]

The Doorless Cage - Seekers x reader (2)

🌵 Tranformers (Post-Apocalyptic AU).

🌵 The Decepticons have conquered Earth, leaving humanity in ruins.

🌵I'll try this for a bit. Remember: I'm not very good at it 👀.

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Skywarp had always found patrols to be mind-numbingly dull. The ruined city sprawled out before him, a desolate wasteland devoid of life—exactly as they wanted it. They’d swept through this place more times than he could count, tearing down every last sign of resistance, yet still, Megatron insisted they make rounds, “in case anything survived.”

But Skywarp knew better. The humans were all but extinct, their brief, flickering rebellion snuffed out, leaving him, Thundercracker, and Starscream wandering empty streets with only the wind and rubble for company. Thundercracker trudged along somewhere behind him, too lost in thought to complain as he usually did. And Starscream was further ahead, stalking through the ruins with his optics cold and sharp.

Skywarp sighed, glancing down a dark alley, then at a broken tower across the street. His teleportation circuits hummed with potential energy, itching to be used for anything other than walking these streets. Part of him wanted to zap right back to base and tell Thundercracker and Starscream he’d “scouted” the rest of the city, but he knew that would only bring more boredom. And, of course, Starscream would berate him for leaving his post, and Skywarp wasn’t in the mood for another lecture from his second-in-command.

Then, he heard it—a faint, barely-there sound, muffled and distant, but unmistakable.

Human.

It was like catching the scent of prey on the wind, and for a moment, Skywarp’s optics brightened with excitement. He slowed his steps, creeping closer to the sound’s source—a half-fallen building just across the street. A grin spread across his face, and his boredom evaporated. Maybe there was a human left to torment after all. With a bit of luck, he could finally have some fun.

Skywarp stopped just outside the building, letting his heavy footsteps echo against the cracked walls, then pausing as if he were about to enter. He listened for any reaction from inside, and sure enough, he heard a frantic rustling, followed by absolute silence. They knew he was there, and they were hiding.

Perfect.

With exaggerated slowness, he moved a few steps forward, then stopped again, allowing the suspense to build. He could only imagine the terror that must be coursing through the human’s veins, the way they’d be shrinking into the shadows, praying he wouldn’t find them.

But Skywarp was done playing subtle.

With a resounding clang, he struck the wall, letting his servo drive through the structure and tear the roof off with a violent pull. Dust and debris flew into the air, and Skywarp’s optics zeroed in on the small figure crouched below, eyes wide with terror. The human screamed, and he grinned, reveling in the sound.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he drawled, his optics gleaming. He reached down, massive fingers wrapped around the human body with brutal force. He lifted them off the ground, letting them wriggle in his grip as he gave them a rough squeeze, just enough to remind them of their fragility.

The human stilled, frozen in fear, and Skywarp chuckled, drawing them closer until they were at optic level.

“Looks like someone’s been playing hide-and-seek,” he sneered. “Too bad for you—I always win, mouse."

Skywarp’s optic gleamed with cruel delight as he brought the tiny human up to his face, studying them with the kind of mocking curiosity one might show an insect caught in a jar. His grip was loose but deliberate, giving them enough room to wriggle and squirm, knowing that any attempt to break free was hopeless.

He tilted his hand back, causing the human to slip toward the edge of his fingers, a startled gasp escaping them as they scrambled to find a hold. Just as they were about to slip, he flattened his palm, catching them with a satisfied chuckle.

“Aw, did you think you’d fall?” he sneered, lifting them to eye level. He twisted his wrist so they dangled precariously, just far enough from his fingers that they’d have to struggle to keep their balance. The sheer terror in their eyes only amused him further, and he leaned in close, his voice a low, mocking whisper.

“Oh, don’t look so scared. I won't drop you......at least not now." He loosened his grip again, watching with twisted glee as they gripped his metal fingers in desperation, their breaths coming fast and shallow.

Skywarp found himself thoroughly entertained by the way they trembled, the faint spark of defiance in their eyes already waning as he continued his taunts. He nudged them with his thumb, pressing them back against his palm, ignoring their gasp of pain as he applied a bit more pressure.

As he toyed with his new prize, he heard familiar footsteps approaching from behind. He glanced over his shoulder, just as Starscream and Thundercracker appeared around the corner.

“What are you doing, Skywarp?” Starscream’s voice was dripping with annoyance as he stalked up to them. His red optics narrowed, taking in the sight of the human in Skywarp’s grip. “I thought we were on patrol, not indulging your ridiculous whims.”

Skywarp merely smirked, holding up the human for them to see. “Oh, lighten up, Starscream. Look what I found—a little survivor. Thought we’d gotten rid of all of them, but I guess there’s still a few stragglers.”

Starscream’s gaze shifted to the trembling human,his face wrinkled. He lifted his arm, aiming his null ray at them. “Then let’s finish the job. I don’t have time for your games.”

Skywarp rolled his optics, drawing the human back just out of range of Starscream’s weapon. “Where’s the fun in that? The city’s already dead, so what’s one little human running around? Think of it as entertainment. It’ll give us something to do.”

Starscream scoffed, crossing his arms. “An amusement? It’s a disgusting organic.”

Skywarp shrugged, his grip tightening on the human to keep them still. “Maybe, but it's better than walking around looking for nothing. Besides, it’s got a decent scream.”

Thundercracker sighed, casting a skeptical glance at the human. “Megatron’s not gonna be happy if he finds out we’re keeping a pet. Besides, I thought you hated organics.”

“Eh, this one’s different,” Skywarp glancing back at the human, who was clinging to his fingers, staring at him with a mixture of horror and disbelief. “I mean, look at them. They’re pathetic. If they try anything, I can just…squeeze.” He gave the human a light, taunting squeeze, chuckling as their face paled.

“Besides, if they become a problem, we can always crush them later. But for now, let’s see if they can last. It’ll be like…a game.” Skywarp added, a gleam of mischief in his optics.

Thundercracker’s optics narrowed, clearly unimpressed by Skywarp’s twisted idea of amusement. “A game?” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re playing with scraps from a dead world.” His voice held a hint of disdain, but under it lay a reluctant curiosity. “It’s just going to run, hide, and scream.”

Skywarp shrugged, still grinning as he dangled the human, watching them squirm. “Exactly! That’s what makes it fun, Thundercracker. It’s like… a pet with spirit,” he taunted, giving the human another playful shake. “Or at least, until they break. They’ve got nothing left to lose, right?” He tilted his head, eyeing the human’s wide, terrified eyes with twisted fascination. “Why not see how long they’ll last?”

Starscream rolled his optics. “Skywarp, if you’re this bored, maybe I should assign you extra patrols.” He sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm

"Hey!"

“But since you insist on this ridiculous game, I suppose it could be… mildly interesting to see just how long this one lasts.” He shot a disdainful look at the human. “Seeing it fall apart was quite a sight to behold.”

Thundercracker snorted “Since when did you get interested in playing with organic matter?” he muttered, though he didn’t move to stop Skywarp. “They’re just a reminder of what this place used to be—a waste.”

Starscream huffed, optics narrowing as he scoffed at Thundercracker's objections. "Shut up! I never did." He replied. In a moment of consideration, he spoke up. "And is that a waste? Think of it as… a way to pass the time. After all, the planet’s dead. Might as well use the leftovers.”

Thundercracker sighed, looking away. “Fine, but don’t expect me to take part in this.” But there was still a glimmer of curiosity in his optics—if unwilling to admit it—to see how long this human might survive under their “care.”

Skywarp chuckled, clearly pleased with his trinemates’ grudging acceptance. “See? It’ll be good for morale.” He leaned closer to the human, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “Congratulations—you get to stay alive… for now. Better keep us entertained, though, or we’ll get bored.”

“Let’s go,” Starscream ordered, turning to walk ahead. “If we linger, Megatron will think we’re slacking off.”

As the three Seekers turned to leave, the human still firmly in Skywarp’s grip, Starscream’s voice cut through the quiet. “Remember, Skywarp: this is your little ‘pet.’ If they become a nuisance, it’s on you to clean up the mess.” But his smirk revealed that he, too, was already looking forward to the twisted amusement their new “pet” might bring.

--------------------------------

Skywarp is fun, right?

"I can just…squeeze." 🤫

[gxr25256]

The Ruins of Earth - Seekers x reader

🌵 Tranformers (Post-Apocalyptic AU).

🌵 The Decepticons have conquered Earth, leaving humanity in ruins.

🌵I'll try this for a bit. Remember: I'm not very good at it 👀.

-------------------------------

The sky was a smudged gray, casting a cold, washed-out light over what remained of the city. Buildings stood like jagged tombstones, their edges crumbling, splintered, and silent. Some days, the wind would send a loose piece of metal skittering down the cracked roads or rattle the empty cars left to rust. Otherwise, everything was still.

Below the surface, in the belly of a half-fallen office building, you crouched among scattered papers, their edges yellowed, flaked, and cracked from dust. The basement was littered with remnants of a world you barely recognized anymore. You had been lucky enough to find this hideout after wandering the ruined streets, and here you had managed to carve out some semblance of a life.

The ceiling is cracked, tangled with exposed electrical wires, and the single window on the far wall had long since shattered. Every now and then, a patch of sunlight filtered through, glinting off dust motes that swirled lazily in the stale air. It reminded you of better times—a stark, painful reminder of a past life that felt both close and impossibly far away.

You settled down on the cold concrete, setting your pack beside you. Inside were your treasures: a faded family photograph, a pocket watch, and a collection of scraps—small things you’d managed to scavenge that had kept you going. Some days, you’d sift through these items, each one tugging you back to memories that hurt as much as they comforted.

You stared down at the photo, feeling a pang in your chest. It was taken on a summer evening just a few months before they had come, when you and your family had still gathered in the garden to laugh and share stories under the stars. You remembered the warmth of your father’s arm around you, the way your mother had laughed, and how the smallest things—a shared meal, a joke, a sunset—had seemed so ordinary back then. Now, those were the moments you clung to like lifelines.

But here, in the darkened shell of a building, they were ghosts that haunted you. The faces stared up at you from the photo, as if asking, How much longer?

You didn’t know how to answer. Each day felt like a small miracle that you were still alive. They had laid waste to everything, turning cities into rubble, hunting down humans with a relentless efficiency. Survival required caution, silence, and instinct. Your hideout, tucked in a labyrinthine part of the city, had been a haven so far. But each passing day felt like playing a game of Russian roulette, and you knew that eventually, luck would run out.

The floor creaked—a sound you’d grown used to, but still one that made your muscles tense instinctively. Any sound outside the room was dangerous. You rose, carefully checking the faint tripwire traps you’d set by the entrances, crude but effective. Your heart thudded faster at the thought of one snapping. If it did, it would mean they were close.

They. The Decepticons. Machines built for one purpose: total, merciless domination. You shuddered as your mind dredged up flashes of their patrols: enormous metal bodies moving with purpose through the streets, the deadly glow of their optics as they scanned the ruins for any sign of life. You’d watched from hiding as they tore through buildings, shredding walls like paper. They were ruthless in their search for survivors, sparing nothing and no one.

They didn’t just kill; they hunted. The knowledge of that, of being part of a vanishing species in the face of such a brutal enemy, wrapped around you like a cold, crushing weight.

The wind howled outside, sending a shiver through you. You’d learned to navigate the city’s ruinous maze, moving with the shadows, slipping through alleyways, always watching your back. But every day, the Decepticons seemed to draw closer, tightening the noose with their relentless patrols.

The last human you’d spoken to was a scavenger named Mira. She’d been tough, gritty, with a quiet intensity that had made you think she could survive anything. She’d warned you about the Decepticons’ latest tactics, their setting traps to lure out survivors, their growing patrols in this area of the city. But that had been weeks ago. You hadn’t seen her since. Her face lingered in your mind as yet another ghost.

The hum of an airplane engine broke the silence, sending a jolt of adrenaline through you. You froze, every sense heightened, listening intently. It was distant—likely a patrol passing through the streets above—but even so, the familiarity of it triggered an instinctive wave of fear. You’d heard that sound too many times. Each instance had ended with a building being leveled or a life snuffed out.

Your heart pounded as you crouched low, moving silently through the office wall to peek through the cracked window. Outside, the city lay in shattered silence, but a faint glimmer of metal caught your eye, just visible through the haze. A Decepticon, its massive form standing out from anything else around the ruins. It moved methodically, its gaze sweeping the rubble as if it could sniff out human life in the air itself.

You crawled away from the window, slipping back into the shadows of the room, praying that the dim light and debris would keep you hidden. Your heartbeat roared in your ears as you crouched, body tense, waiting. Minutes stretched on, stretching into an eternity as you listened for any hint that the Decepticon had moved on.

But the silence persisted, thick and oppressive. Part of you wanted to risk a glance, but your instincts screamed otherwise. That was the problem now; you’d lived in silence for so long that sometimes, even the slightest noise felt like a gunshot. Every step, every creak, every breath seemed like it could betray you.

As you tried to steady your breathing, your gaze drifted to a pile of old papers strewn across the floor. One caught your eye—a page from an old newspaper, yellowed and faded. The headline read, Hope for Tomorrow: Humanity’s Technological Golden Age. You almost laughed at the bitter irony. The hope they’d once touted had been torn away, replaced by cold metal giants who knew nothing of mercy or compassion.

A loud clang from outside startled you, pulling you back to the present with a fearful jolt. You remained still, barely daring to breathe. The footsteps outside were getting louder, a heavy, ominous rhythm. You recognized the sound: The unmistakable footsteps of the Decepticons, its weight causing the building to shudder faintly. They were close—too close.

The footsteps paused, and your heart seemed to stop with them. The faint hum of machinery echoed down, accompanied by the cold, mechanical sound of a voice you couldn’t quite make out. Your mind raced, considering your options. Running wasn’t possible; any movement risked drawing their attention. And yet, staying still felt like sitting in a cage, waiting for the predator to find you.

The Decepticon’s steps resumed, slower this time, each one punctuated by a metallic creak that reverberated through the building.

And the footsteps halted again, this time right on the other side of the wall you're leaning against, and you froze, body taut with fear. The building groaned under the heavy weight of machinery, dust drifting down in fine particles that tickled your face.The walls around you seemed to close in, your hiding place shrinking as the footsteps grew louder, closer. As if the Decepticon was zeroing in on your location, as if it were playing with your fears.

Then, with a metallic clang, you heard the Decepticon move again. Just when you thought the danger had passed, a deafening explosion ripped through the building, and the entire roof blew off with a force that sent you sprawling. A cry escaped your lips as you hit the ground, pain radiating through you.

Gasping, you struggled to your feet, but as you looked up, a chill gripped your heart. Through the swirling dust and debris, a pair of red optics glowed, locked directly onto you. Fear surged through your veins, and before you could even think, a scream tore from your throat.

Maybe your luck has run out.

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[gxr25256]

A Skyward Promise - Thundercracker x Reader (3)

🌵 If there are any mistakes, please forgive me, my illness makes me quite distracted 🥲.

🌵 Anyway enjoy the story.

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The sun was barely cresting the horizon when you set out, the early morning air crisp against your skin. In your backpack, you’d packed carefully: a small canister of gasoline—something you figured Thundercracker might find useful, though you weren’t entirely sure how Cybertronian fuel worked—and a DVD of Top Gun, a movie you thought might resonate with a Seeker who once ruled the skies. The weight of the bag felt grounding, a reminder of the strange, exhilarating connection you’d forged with a Decepticon over the past two days.

As you approached, the faint hum of his systems greeted you, a low vibration that seemed to pulse through the earth. The barn’s rusted doors creaked as you approached, and you called out softly, “Thundercracker? You in there?”

A low rumble answered, followed by the sound of metal shifting. His blue optics glowed faintly in the dim interior as he stepped forward, his towering form filling the doorway. “You’re back,” he said, his voice gruff but laced with something softer—surprise, maybe. “Didn’t think you’d show up again so soon.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, setting your backpack down on a patch of dry grass. “Figured I’d bring you something.” You unzipped the bag, pulling out the gasoline canister first. “Not sure if this is useful to you, but… thought it might be.”

Thundercracker tilted his helm, studying the canister with a raised optic ridge. “Human fuel,” he mused, taking it gingerly between two massive digits. “Not exactly my grade, but… thoughtful.” His tone softened at the last word, and you felt a small thrill at the acknowledgment.

“Oh thanks, it’s the best I could do on short notice,” you said, laughing. “Thought it might help with… I don’t know, something. You’re a giant robot; you probably burn through energy like crazy.”

He huffed, a sound that might’ve been a chuckle if he’d let it. “It’s… appreciated.” His gaze shifted to the movie disc, and one optic ridge arched. “And this?”

“Oh, that’s a classic,” you said, holding it up proudly. “Top Gun. Figured a flyer like you might get a kick out of it. Jets, dogfights, cheesy ‘80s music—it’s got it all.”

Thundercracker took the disc gingerly between two massive fingers, turning it over like it was an alien artifact. “You humans and your obsession with screens. Alright, I’ll bite.” he muttered, but there was no real bite to it. He set it aside, his optics flicking back to you. “So, what’s the plan? You just gonna keep bringing me trinkets like some kind of offering?”

You laughed, settling onto a nearby crate. “Maybe. But mostly I just wanted to talk. You know, like normal people.” You paused, then added with a teasing grin, “Or, well, normal people and giant alien robots.”

He snorted, but he didn’t respond right away, instead setting the DVD down carefully beside the gasoline. And leaning back against the barn wall, the structure groaning under his weight.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, talking about small things—the weather, the way the barn creaked in the wind, the oddities of human culture that Thundercracker still found baffling. He told you about a time he’d accidentally startled a flock of birds mid-flight, his dry humor slipping through as he described their indignant squawking. You laughed, and for a moment, he seemed to relax, his massive frame less guarded than it had been the day before.

But as the conversation lulled, your mind drifted back to something he’d said yesterday, a fleeting mention that had stuck with you. “Hey,” you said, your voice softer now, “you mentioned flying yesterday. Just… casually, like it was nothing. But it’s not nothing, right? What’s it like?”

Thundercracker’s optics snapped to you, and for a second, you wondered if you’d crossed a line. He shifted, his servos flexing at his sides. “What’s it like?” he echoed, his tone guarded. “It’s… freedom. The closest thing to it, anyway. Up there, it’s just you, the wind, and the sky. No orders, no war. Just… being.”

You nodded, absorbing his words. “But you miss it, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away, but the way his wings twitched—barely told you enough.You could almost feel the weight of his thoughts, the conflict brewing behind those glowing optics. You hesitated, your next words caught in your throat. It was a big ask, maybe too big, but the image of him soaring through the sky was too vivid to let go “Thundercracker… could you—would you ever fly again? Could you… show me?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

The air in the barn seemed to still. Thundercracker’s optics widened, and for a moment, he looked almost startled. Fly? Here, on this backwater planet, where every move could draw unwanted optics? The idea was reckless. Dangerous. Humans had their sensors, their militaries. If they spotted him, it’d be a mess—capture, dissection, or worse. And Decepticons… if Starscream caught wind of him exposing himself, he’d never hear the end of it. Or worse, Megatron might take an interest. Autobots were another problem entirely. Optimus and his do-gooders would probably try to “save” the human, and that’d complicate everything.

But the skies… Primus, he missed them. The rush of air over his chassis, the weightlessness, the way the world fell away until it was just him and the horizon. He hadn’t flown properly since he’d crashed here, nursing that slagging wound in his wing. It was healed now, the nanites finally doing their job, but he’d been cautious. Too cautious, maybe. Grounded, he felt like half a mech, his spark aching for the freedom he’d taken for granted on Cybertron.

And then there was them. This human-you- with your earnest eyes and fearless curiosity. You weren’t like the others he’d encountered—scared or scheming. You looked at him like he was more than a machine, more than a weapon. Those eyes… you were bright, alive, and when you’d asked to see him fly, there was something in them that stole his words. Hope, maybe. Trust. It made his spark pulse in a way that was unfamiliar, almost unsettling.

He wanted to say no. He should say no. It was the smart move, the Decepticon move. But when he opened his mouth, the words wouldn’t come. He saw the way you leaned forward, waiting, believing in him. And for reasons he couldn’t name, he didn’t want to let you down.

The silence stretched, and you felt your nerve falter. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—” you started, but he cut you off.

“Evening,” he said abruptly. “We do it in the evening. Less chance of being seen.”

Your eyes widened, a grin spreading across your face before you could stop it. “Really? You’ll do it?”

He shifted, looking almost… embarrassed? “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbled, turning his head slightly. If a robot could cough, you swore he’d be doing it now, trying to cover up whatever passed for Cybertronian shyness.

You laughed, unable to help it. “Okay, okay. Evening it is. Where?”

“There’s a wooded area, west of your city. Secluded. Meet me there tomorrow, just after dusk.” His optics flicked back to you, and you could’ve sworn there was a hint of warmth in them. “And don’t be late.”

“I won’t,” you promised, still grinning. The idea of seeing him fly, of witnessing something so fundamentally him, made your chest feel light. “Thanks, Thundercracker. This means a lot.”

Thundercracker looked away, his wings shifting as if to hide his embarrassment. He made a low, rumbling sound . “Yeah, well… don’t get too excited. It’s just a flight.”

But you could tell he was flustered, and it only made your grin wider. You stood, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “I should head back before it gets too dark. But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And… thanks again , Thundercracker. Really.”

He didn’t respond, just gave a curt nod, but his optics followed you as you left the barn, a faint glow in the fading light.

Back at your house, you couldn’t sit still. The thought of seeing Thundercracker fly—actually fly—kept your heart racing. You tried to distract yourself with chores, then dinner, but your mind kept drifting to tomorrow. What would it be like? Would he soar like the jets in Top Gun, or was it something entirely different? You fell asleep with a smile, dreaming of wings cutting through the sky.

Meanwhile, in the barn, Thundercracker sat in the dark, the Top Gun disc playing on the battered portable DVD player you’d left him last time. The screen flickered with images of jets roaring through the sky, but his optics barely registered them. His processor was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts he didn’t recognize as his own.

This was reckless. Stupid, even. He’d only known this human for two days, and here he was, agreeing to risk exposure just to show off. On Cybertron, he’d never have done something so impulsive. He was a Seeker, a warrior, not some sentimental mech chasing feelings. But when he thought of your face, the way your eyes had lit up, his spark did that strange, rapid pulse again. It wasn’t just the flying. It was you. The way you looked at him, like he was worth seeing. He wanted to see that look again, wanted to be the reason for it.

He shook his helm, optics narrowing. “Get it together,” he muttered to himself. Maybe you were right about the TV—too much of it was scrambling his circuits. Or maybe it was you, this human who’d stumbled into his life and turned everything upside down. Either way, he needed to recharge. But as he slipped into a low-power state, his thoughts weren’t of Cybertron or the war. They were of you, and the sky, and the wind he’d feel tomorrow.

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[gxr25256]

Night Flight - Thundercraker x reader (4)

🌵 I'm out of ideas! What should I write?! 🥲

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The mountain loomed softly in the dark, its slopes brushed with mist and moonlight. The air smelled faintly of rain and pine needles, and somewhere below, the old building where they first met sat like a half-forgotten relic. It was quiet enough to hear the wind breathe through the trees.

You were already there when he came. You heard him first — a low hum, the familiar rise and fall of turbines — not loud, but distinct, steady as a heartbeat. The sound grew until a blue streak crossed the dim horizon, banking gently before descending toward the clearing.

Thundercracker landed with a restrained grace, his thrusters dimming to pale embers before cutting out completely. Dust rose around him in slow spirals, catching the silver light. For a moment, he simply stood there in his jet form, canopy glinting faintly. Then the cockpit hissed open with a small puff of vapor.

You swallowed, realizing your hands were colder than you thought. “You actually came,” you said, a little breathless.

The comm crackled, and his voice came through — that deep, slightly reserved tone, smoothed by static. “You didn’t think I would?”

You grinned. “Guess I thought you’d change your mind.”

“I don’t break promises,” he said simply. “Besides… you wanted to see me fly. I can’t really blame you.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t think it’s a stupid idea ?”

“Never did,” he answered. “Flying isn’t stupid. It’s the only thing that ever made sense.”

Something in his tone — calm but threaded with meaning — made your chest feel warm. You walked closer, stopping beside his nosecone. The cockpit sat open, waiting.

“So,” you said quietly, “am I still just watching?”

Thundercracker’s canopy light flickered faintly, like a blink.“You could,” he said, “but… it’s better if you feel it for yourself.”

You hesitated, breath visible in the chill air. “You mean—?”

“I mean I’ll take you with me,” he said. “If you trust me enough.”

You felt your pulse quicken — not fear, but that dizzy feeling of standing at the edge of something you can’t quite name. You looked out at the quiet mountains, then back at him. Trust .The seat waited, open, unfamiliar. But you nodded.

“I do,” you said finally.

The cockpit closed around you with a soft hiss, and the world narrowed to the hum of systems warming beneath your hands. The seat adjusted to your frame; screens flickered to life in pale blue arcs, showing altitude, wind pressure, radar pings that meant nothing to you. You could feel his pulse — no, not a heart, but something alive beneath the mechanics. Every tremor, every vibration was him breathing.

“Comfortable?” Thundercracker asked through the comm, his voice surrounding you from every direction.

“As comfortable as someone sitting inside a talking jet can be,” you replied with a nervous laugh.

“Straps tight?” Thundercracker asked.

You nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. I think.”

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured. “Just breathe.”

The engines ignited, a deep roar muffled by the canopy. Gravity pressed against you as he accelerated forward, smooth and controlled, like the mountain itself was bowing away to let him through. The forest below became a blur of shadows. Then, suddenly, you were rising. The ground fell away — the old building shrinking into a toy, the trees folding into darkness — and the sky opened.You gasped before you could stop yourself.

The air outside shimmered with faint frost, the stars sharp as glass. The moonlight traced his wings in a silver arc, and for the first time, you realized how quiet it was up here. No engines screaming, no turbulence — just the steady rush of air, like the world breathing beneath you.

Thundercracker’s voice lowered. “Still okay?”

You nodded, still in awe. “It’s… beautiful. I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

“Most people don’t,” he said. “That’s why I wanted you to see.” He climbed higher, banking gently over the valley. The city lights far away shimmered like scattered jewels, and the clouds glowed faintly with reflected moonlight.

“You do this a lot?” you asked quietly.

“As often as I can,” he said. “Up here, everything’s quiet. The noise down there—” his engines hummed thoughtfully, “—it fades.”

You smiled faintly. “So this is your escape.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe it’s just the only place I can breathe.”

There was a pause. “And what about you? Where’s yours?”

You thought for a while, watching your reflection ripple faintly in the canopy. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not a place. Maybe it’s moments — like this one.”

Thundercracker didn’t answer for a long while. The only sound was the faint, rhythmic pulse of the engines. Then, quietly: “That’s a good answer.”

You flew for a long while in silence, the rhythm of the engines a low lullaby. Then, slowly, conversation began to bloom between you.

He asked about human planes, and you talked about them — the Spitfire, the SR-71, the fragile Wright Flyer with its canvas wings. He listened intently, asking questions in that quiet, curious way that made you forget he wasn’t human.

“So you’re telling me,” he said, “that humans actually flew those wooden contraptions before you had proper engines?”

You laughed. “They didn’t just fly. They crashed, fixed it, and tried again.”

He let out a soft, metallic chuckle. “You’re all insane.”

“Maybe. But it’s the good kind of insane.” He banked gently, the stars sliding across the canopy like spilled water. “That,” he said, “I can respect.”

You both laughed softly — and kept talking. About flying, about freedom, about the small, strange details of life. He asked what clouds felt like. You asked what the atmosphere smelled like at the edge of the stratosphere. Time blurred, carried away by the wind.

It wasn’t until your breath caught that you realized how thin the air had become. At first, you thought it was nerves — your chest tightening from excitement. But then the edges of your vision shimmered faintly, black creeping in like spilled ink. You blinked hard. The stars were too bright now, the clouds far below, tiny and distant. You tried to speak — “Thunder—” — but your voice came out weak, barely a whisper.

He noticed instantly. “What’s wrong?”

You gasped, pressing a hand to the glass. “I—can’t—” You couldn’t finish. The air felt sharp, empty, too thin to catch.

His sensors spiked. “You’re hypoxic—slag, you’re not built for this altitude!” His voice rose, roughened by alarm. “Hold on!”

The engines roared, wings angling sharply downward. The cabin filled with vibration as he dove, cutting through the sky like a falling star. The world blurred — darkness, cloud, faint flashes of moonlight — all spinning together. You heard him calling your name again and again, the tone breaking between panic and urgency.

“Come on, breathe—breathe, frag it!” The sound of his voice tethered you, barely. You focused on it, the warmth buried under the static, the raw worry that didn’t sound mechanical at all.

Your lungs burned. The canopy blurred. Then — the air thickened. Pressure shifted. You coughed hard, lungs finally catching the breath they’d been starved for. The world steadied.

Thundercracker’s engines eased to a hover, the descent slowing. “Talk to me,” he said, voice tight. “Say something.”

You breathed shakily. “I’m… okay. Just—lightheaded.”

His thrusters flared once — a frustrated exhale. “I took you too high. I should’ve checked the altitude—frag it, I know better than that.”

You managed a weak laugh, still catching your breath. “Guess we got carried away talking.”

He was silent for a moment. The engine noise dropped to a low, steady hum. “I’m sorry.”

You leaned your head back against the seat, eyes closing briefly. “Hey. I’m fine. You didn’t mean to.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “You trusted me. And I almost—” He stopped again. The silence that followed was heavier than before, but not cold. It was worry, shaped into quiet.

You opened your eyes. “Thundercracker,” you said softly. “Look.”

Below, the clouds were clearing. The valley spread beneath you like a dark ocean, stars mirrored in tiny rivers and glints of distant water. The world felt impossibly wide. “It’s still beautiful,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Then his voice came, quieter than the wind. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

He descended lower, keeping the air thick and safe. The rest of the flight was slower, almost careful. The two of you still talked occasionally, but it was clear that an awkward atmosphere still permeated the cockpit. It made you feel bad for-

“You’re still shaking.” His voice cut through your thoughts.

You smiled faintly. “You noticed.”

“I notice everything,” he said. “Especially now.”

“Overprotective much?”

“Maybe.” His tone softened. “You scared me.”

The words came out so plainly, you almost missed them. You turned toward the canopy, your reflection ghosted against the stars. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” he said. You didn’t know what to say, so you reached out and rested your hand against the side panel — the closest thing to touching him. The vibration under your fingers steadied, subtle but there.

“Thanks for not letting me fall,” you said quietly.

When he landed back on the mountainside, the ground glowed faintly with residual heat. The engines powered down one by one, their hum fading into silence. The cockpit hissed open, and cold air rushed in, brushing your face. You sat there for a moment, the world spinning softly, before stepping out. Your legs trembled a little when your boots hit the grass.

Thundercracker transformed, metal folding and locking until he stood before you again — tall, wings faintly reflecting the moonlight. He crouched slightly, optics dim but watchful. “Better?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. My head’s still fuzzy, but I’m okay.”

His optics brightened faintly. “Good.” Then, softer: “I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

You looked up at him — really looked. The scuffed armor, the lines of wear that spoke of years and fights, the sharp edges that somehow seemed softer in the moonlight.

“It’s fine,” you said gently. “If anything, I learned something.”

He tilted his head. “What’s that?”

“That flying with you is incredible… and a little dangerous.”

A faint flicker of light pulsed across his optics — amusement. “Fair assessment.”

You smiled. “Still worth it.”

He didn’t answer immediately, but his wings shifted slightly, like an involuntary reaction. “You really think so?”

“I do,” you said. “I’d do it again — maybe not that high next time.”

“Next time,” he echoed, voice softer than the wind. “I’ll make sure you can breathe.”

You laughed quietly, stepping back to look at him. The stars shimmered above, and for a long moment, the two of you simply stood there in the quiet mountain air.

“And maybe bring another one of those discs. The one about the cars that turn into robots.” He cleared his throat.

You laughed so hard you had to cover your mouth. “You liked that one?”

“I’m… curious,” he said, tone so deliberately neutral it made you laugh harder.

When you caught your breath, the air felt lighter, the night softer. You looked at him — really looked — and for the first time, he didn’t seem like a machine or a soldier or even an alien. Just someone trying to find peace, the same as you.

The night wrapped around you again, calm and silver. He looked toward the sky, then back down at you.

“Next time,” he said, “you pick the view.”

You nodded. “Deal.”

He inclined his head slightly, then transformed once more. The engines roared to life, kicking up dust and light. You raised a hand against the wind as he lifted off, rising in a slow, graceful arc until he was just a streak against the stars.

You stood there until the sound faded completely, leaving only the whisper of the forest and the faint scent of ozone on the air. The world felt different now — a little bigger, a little brighter. You smiled to yourself, the memory of the flight still humming in your bones.

“See you soon, Thundercracker,” you said.

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