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Claustrophobic (GN)

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TW: This story includes a depiction of claustrophobia-  Y/N experiences a panic attack due to being in a confined space. If this topic is sensitive for you, please read with care. :)

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The dim light of the Autobot base reflected off Ratchet's crimson plating as he worked at his terminal, muttering about humans and their uncanny knack for disrupting his routine. Across the room, you sorted through a clutter of supplies, not bothering to mask your irritation.

"Do you ever clean up after yourself?" you snapped, holding up a container of spilled bolts.

"Don't start," Ratchet said without even looking up. "I don't have time for your nitpicking today."

"Nitpicking? Your 'system' is chaos incarnate!"

"Perhaps if you possessed a fraction of my organizational skill, you wouldn't find it so difficult to locate things."

"Oh, please," you huffed. "Your 'organization' is just shoving things wherever there's space!"

Ratchet slammed a panel shut and turned to glare at you. "You wouldn't know a proper system if it hit you in the face!"

Their argument grew louder, and the other Autobots groaned. This wasn't the first time their bickering had interrupted the base's harmony—and it certainly wouldn't be the last if something wasn't done.

"This has to stop," Arcee muttered, arms crossed as she watched the two of you squabble.

"Agreed," Optimus said with a weary tone. Even the usually stoic Prime seemed at his wit's end.

"It's like watching two broken records," Bulkhead said walking over to the group.

"More like a demolition derby," Arcee quipped.

"I have an idea," Miko said, eyes glinting with mischief. "They need to work it out... in close quarters."

"Define 'close,'" Jack asked warily, eyeing her suspiciously.

Optimus raised an optic ridge. "Are you suggesting we—"

"Yup! Lock 'em in a room together close," Miko declared.

"That seems... unwise," Optimus began, but Bulkhead and Arcee were already nodding in agreement. Raf smiled faintly, clearly amused but unwilling to outright endorse Miko's plan.

"Just make sure they don't kill each other," Jack warned.


The next day, you were helping Bulkhead move crates when Miko darted in, her expression feigning urgency.

"Hey! Can you grab the box in the back storage room? It's urgent!" she called, running off before you could reply.

Ratchet, too, was conveniently drawn to the same room by Raf claiming something crucial was "malfunctioning" in there.

As you stepped inside, Ratchet's frame blocked the doorway.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same," he retorted, narrowing his optics.

"Let me guess—another one of your messes?" you asked.

Before either of you could escalate the exchange, the door slammed shut behind you. A loud click followed, unmistakably locking it.

"Uh-oh," you muttered, stepping forward to press the door's controls. It didn't budge.

"Children!" Ratchet bellowed, pounding on the door with enough force to make it rattle.

TFP Ratchet x Reader OneshotsWhere stories live. Discover now