Would you be ok with helping distract me from thinking? My stepdad died some months ago and yesterday I was there when they turned the machine off for my mom. She stopped getting any better when my stepdad died and I know she didn’t want to be without him, so I signed off on the hospital stopping treatments. She was miserable. But now I’ve lost them both.
IF it is ok, could you write something where maybe Blades or Groove ‘rescues’ the Reader from their little life and brings them back to the Protectobots because they love the reader, especially Hot Spot and Streetwise? It can be spicy, because I like your spicy stories a lot.
If not the protectobots, then maybe mtmte scorponok or the one-shot barricade with the reader on cybertron? I can see both of them doing the same thing.
I love your work anyway. Sorry for being a little weird. Thanks for listening.
I’m so sorry you’re having to go through all this all at once.
🔞 Mass displaced mechs 🌶️ I haven’t written some of these guys before, so they might be a bit off
Home
Protectobots x Reader
• Idling up to your house as his engine rumbles, Groove’s holomatter avatar leans to put a booted foot down as he stares at the dark building. How many times is he going to do this? Drive by and then just leave. After the spectacular fight you’d had with Hot Spot, you’d left them. Wanted to go home and he understands that, but Blades and Hot Spot have been at each other’s throats, Streetwise becoming withdrawn and distant, and First Aid hiding in the Medbay. Their team fracturing without you. Wants you back home where you belong.
• He’s back. Can hear the motorcycle rumbling just outside on the street and you want to go out there. Throw yourself into Groove’s arms and ask to go home. But your pride won’t allow it. Hot Spot had hurt your feelings and you keep waiting for him to come for you. To apologize and bring you home, but maybe they meant more to you than you did to them. Breath catching as you hear a knock, part of you wants to ignore it. To not be the one to give in. But you still walk to the door and open it, gripping the door frame to keep yourself from hugging Groove’s avatar and begging to go home with him.
• “Hey, sweetspark,” he murmurs, a hand lifting to cup your cheek and hesitating as you stare up at him with those lonely eyes. And you lean your cheek into the avatar’s palm before looping your arms around him, face against his chest. Feels your field crackle through him, upsetting him to feel your emotions all over the place. “We miss you. I miss you.” Arms curling around you as you make a soft noise, he rests his chin on top of your head. Hears your muffled whimper that you want to go home and the tension drains away. “Hot Spot misses you, too.”
• It’s not the same without you here. The shared habsuite empty and quiet. Blades and Streetwise both had found other places to recharge. First Aid hiding in Medbay and Hot Spot has no idea where Groove is. Suspects the other bot is watching over you and someone needs to, but he knows you wouldn’t appreciate if it was him. Had never seen you so angry before as that night. Had laughed it off not realizing how serious you were, hadn’t expected the argument to escalate like that. Stilling when his comm crackles, he hears Grooves across the private Protectobots channel say, ‘We’re coming home.’ Those words sinks into him, anchoring in his spark as relief spills through him. Even if you hate him, he wants you here. Needs you, because it’s all wrong without you.
• Swinging wide over the city, Blades zeros in on Groove’s familiar field. Relieved to see you sitting in front of Groove’s avatar, one of its arms around your waist as the wind tears at your hair. Knows he and you have butted heads occasionally, gotten into fights, but whatever you and Hot Spot had gotten into it over had been different. Their leader refusing to talk about it after you’d left, making Blades sure Hot Spot had driven you off for your own protection. Like there’s anywhere safer than with them. You’re theirs.
• Head lifting as the wind stings your eyes, you spot the chopper overhead as Groove’s avatar’s fingers flex against your belly. And he sways lazily in his lane as a police cruiser sidles up beside him, siren whooping once. Streetwise. You’re tempted to lean and stretch out a hand to see if you can reach him, but you know it’ll stress Groove out. That he’ll worry about you falling. But that tightness in your chest eases some that they’re coming to meet you. That they did miss you, too and want you to come home.
• Speeding to come to meet the others as soon as he’d gotten the call, First Aid’s sirens wail as he spots you with Groove. Bouncing across the grassy median to fall in with Streetwise shadowing Groove, he’s relieved. Because everything’s been wrong without you there. Everyone fighting and angry. Distant. Wants things to be normal again. Wants to joke with Groove. Hear Streetwise and Hot Spot talk strategy, even misses Blades’s attitude. Misses his home. Misses you.
• Striding through the Ark as his spark constricts, he’s not sure how to fix this. Hadn’t meant to drive you away, but he’d been afraid. Afraid for you, that if you got too involved with them, you’d end up getting hurt. Combiner teams tend to lead dangerous lives and he couldn’t risk you. You mean too much, but he’d just made everyone miserable instead. And hurt you. Standing just inside the doorway as you slide off of Groove’s altmode, Hot Spot tries to catch your eye, but Streetwise is transforming and mass shifting, dragging you back into his frame, his face against your neck.
• Can feel Streetwise’s servos fisting in your clothes, his arms around you as your feet leave the ground and they’re all mass shifting now. Blades reaching out to ruffle your hair, smiling crookedly. First Aid nervously asking if you’ve been okay, if you’ve been eating. But you can’t tear your eyes from Hot Spot staring at you. Afraid he’s going to start again, tell you all the reasons you don’t belong here, that it’s not safe even though this is where you want to be. And he’s striding your way as Streetwise rumbles a warning at your back. Hot Spot’s hands cup your face as his mask retracts and his mouth crashes against yours. Not a kiss so much as a claim. An apology.
• Mouth sliding against yours, he feels your hands grab at him, hanging on. One of Streetwise’s arms sliding against his chassis as the other bot pins you more firmly between the two of them. Only dimly aware of First Aid hovering nearby and probably wanting them to take this back to their habsuite. Which isn’t a bad idea. Done with ignoring what he wants as you hook a leg against his hip, your mouth opening under his. Hopes that’s forgiveness. Needs you.
• Relaxing as Blades shoves Streetwise and Hot Spot, trying to get them headed in the right direction because there’s a very real possibility the three of you are going to end up tangled together on the floor right inside the entrance of the Ark. And it’s a relief to have you home where you belong. Following when Hot Spot growls a warning, Groove smiles. Reaching out to smooth a palm against your arm and you fumble, hand grabbing his and squeezing. Like you think you need to hang onto them or they’ll abandon you.
• Back hitting the habsuite door as Hot Spot pins you against him, rumbling hungrily, Streetwise fumbles with the door and Blades and First Aid grab him to keep him from falling through when it opens. Your scent addictive as he vents deeply. Wants you on the berth, but doesn’t want to let go long enough to mass shift and lift you up there. Not while Hot Spot is moving against you, his servos on your hips trying to take you from him.
• Servos tug at your clothes, everything shifting and becoming a blur of heat and need. Wanting your mechs, wanting them all. To claim them, because this is home. They’re your home. Streetwise’s mouth is on your neck as he eases down on his knees with you arched back against him as you’re stripped. And Hot Spot follows you down, servos ghosting over bare skin. Up your throat as his mouth covers yours again and Streetwise’s hand cups you, a servo spearing inside you to make you gasp. “Didn’t mean to drive you off,” Hot Spot growls against your lips. “Worried.”
• Aware that the apology isn’t enough, he shifts down your body, gripping Streetwise’s wrist and the other bot glares at him, field crackling in a momentary battle of wills before Streetwise moves his hand. Lets Hot Spot cup your hips and lift them as he settles between your thighs and you moan when he puts his mouth on you. How many times has he dreamed of this? Of claiming what’s his? Your taste addictive as your breath hitches. Streetwise’s hands sliding over you, cupping and squeezing skin as Hot Spot’s mouth moves against you. The others waiting impatiently, wanting the same thing. To claim you so throughly you’ll never question that you’re wanted, that you belong here.
• Shuddering as Hot Spot mouths against you, the scent of your need thickens, until Blades’s spike is aching behind his modesty plating. Sees Groove releasing the panel hiding his valve as he leans back, thighs spread so he can spear two servos inside himself as he watches you. Hears First Aid’s fans kick on as you cry out, Hot Spot shifting over you, releasing his spike and burying himself inside you in a hard drive.
• Pinned between Streetwise and Hot Spot, you gasp as Hot Spot’s hips pump. Feeling the burn of his spike stretching you as Streetwise brushes his cheek against yours. And you should be embarrassed because the others are all watching. Groove pumping his servos inside himself, lips parting on a growling moan, but it’s feels right for them to be here. “You’re ours,” Streetwise murmurs against your skin as Hot Spot’s hips roll, his spike stroking inside you. “Our mate.”
• Optics hooded watching Hot Spot claim you, Streetwise interlaces his servos with your fingers. Knows they’ve never discussed sharing you, much less claiming you or bonding you, but they don’t need to. You’re theirs. Always have been since that day Groove brought you home to First Aid for help. And your head falls back against his shoulder as you gasp, your soft, needy sounds getting more urgent as Hot Spot snarls. Feels you tremble against him as you come apart, Hot Spot thrusting urgently before shuddering with his release, his big hand landing on Streetwise’s shoulder for balance.
For the requests!! How about a playful chasing/racing scenario with one of the protecto bots??☝❤ [I say, innocently trailing my foot in a little circle with my hands behind my back]
_streetwise x reader
[a/n: I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure that I interpreted this correctly, but I will never pass up an opportunity to tease streets. includes: mass-displaced mech.]
his exhaustion finally reveals itself in your kitchen, broad shoulders slumped over the island as he stares at the clock on the wall as if it would ease his crowded mind. though painstakingly patient, every now and then his optics would flit over to where you were standing. dare you say a minuscule pout forming on his bottom lip, wordlessly asking for something you couldn't quite decipher. if you were to wager a guess, Streetwise was looking for some sort of affection, but when he was so sleepy like this it was far more compelling to tease him, to pretend like you have no idea what he's searching for. it's amusing, watching his face contort slowly over a few minutes, to which you finally figure out why he was so enthralled with the clock. he was timing how long it took until you realized what he wanted.
slowly, his helm lifts and he furrows his brow some, looking for your gaze and is seemingly unable to nab it as you stifle your laugh into a mug of tea. you freeze when a mixture of a cough and a whine builds in the back of his throat, garbled by his voice box before it ever really leaves his mouth. your eyes lift only then, meeting his azure stare across the counter when he calls your name softly, presenting each syllable with utmost care. in return, you set your mug down, shuffling across the linoleum and headed in his direction. Streetwises' features soften, frame settling into a more relaxed state, arms already lifting so you can sit in his lap-
Streetwise grabs air. you bypass him and head straight for the living room, lips pursed to try and keep the game going. the same game he didn't know the both of you were playing.
"Did you just-?" he breathes, evidently still in a state of quiet shock.
your display of feigned innocence riles him. "Sorry, did you need something?"
the laughter that was being suppressed finally releases when he jumps to his feet, nearly taking the hanging light fixture with him. "I am not only offended, I am wounded."
he tries again, advancing two long strides that nearly have him chest to chest with you, now looking down your way with an unamused expression. that should have ended the tease right there, but when a ghost of a smile finds its way to his face-plate you can't help yourself. the idea was practically presented right there in front of you on a silver platter.
Streetwise lifts his servos to try and gather you in his arms once more, and you extend the idea you were going to yield.
in the very last moment, you duck under his arm and dart back towards the kitchen.
"I- what?!"
the red and white mech looks over his shoulder to find you giggling, laughing so hard it's clearly starting to make your stomach hurt.
"Okay," he hums, realization dawning. "I see. So I have to catch you, is that what this is?"
he knows what he's doing, slowly making his way towards you because he's very well aware he has the advantage here. he comes to stand on the other side of the island, looming over the granite as a playful smile works it's way to the surface.
"I have no idea what you're talking about-"
the sentence hardly completes when he moves, causing a short yelp of surprise to leave your lips. the immediate exit presented at your front was the short hallway that led to your bedroom, so you head down there while Streetwise remains hot on your heels.
you barely break the threshold to your bedroom when arms slip around your waist, tugging you backward softly as your feet simultaneously leave the ground. your cheeks are rosy, laughter melding with short squeaks of protest as he continues on into the room, flipping you around in his arms easily.
"I won," he says, a less tired twinkle to his optics and something more fond replacing it. "Now, who do I have to talk to about a kiss?"
relenting, your hands come to cup respective sides of his face, legs hooking against his hips as his servos come to engulf your thighs. "Me, that would be me."
"That's what I thought." he returns, leaning forward. "C'mere, Sweetspark."
bad days have a way of finding Streetwise, more often than not. a harsh reminder of every flaw he's carried with him from Cybertron to Earth, almost like the saying goes: anything that can go wrong will go wrong. it’s like the rain that clings to his already grimy plating, carving streaky rivers down his frame, each one making him feel like the fool he’s come to believe he is, lately. he stands dumbly in the command center, letting the water travel off his plating and hit the floor with a unsatisfying splash.
"Forgot to check the weather?" Groove hums, turning to face the second in command from his position in front the computer.
"Clearly," Streetwise returns dryly, unamused.
Groove considers poking fun a bit more, but then takes in the defeated expression the white mech wore, typically one to be more reserved with his emotions. deciding it would be in his best interest to deliver the good news, the gold mech leans over the back of the chair and casts a sympathetic glance Streetwises' way.
"Oh, by the way,"
Streetwise had begun the walk back toward his room, but halts halfway across the lobby, catching the change in Groove's tone.
the motorcycle smiles exuberantly at his dead stop. "A certain someone was looking for you,"
swiftly, Streetwise moves to compose himself, shoulders twitching upward from their previous slouched position. "Did they call?"
Groove shrugs, spinning back around to continue monitoring the screens contents. "I dunno. Maybe go check your berthroom."
Streetwise keeps his normal stride, but there's a hint of urgency to start wiping the mud from his white plating. feeling a self consciousness consume him, he halts just before his door, looking down at himself before pushing everything aside with a reluctant ex-vent.
the metal door slides over with an automated hiss, revealing his cramped berthroom that doubles as his office, illuminated by the overhead lights not turned all the way up. immediately, he crosses the threshold, optics panning the room to find you up against the wall, sitting on the ground with an overnight backpack beside you.
upon his entry, the door closed over behind him with a less-than graceful clunk, causing you to look up his way with a slightly startled expression. once you'd quietly realized the noise was Streetwise, a warm smile overtakes your features as you jump to your feet.
"Welcome back," you hum, taking notice of his mud-caked attire but choose to keep that observance to yourself. "I hope it's okay that I was waiting in here, Groove said-oh!"
Streetwise is fast, far quicker than a mech of his size should be able to move. you'd hardly blinked and he'd dropped to a knee, extending a servo to you, a wordless invitation, meant for you and only you to understand what he's asking for. you'd never pinned Streetwise for an overly affectionate bot, but he's full of surprises that you adore wholeheartedly, his doting nature translating easily between parts of his life.
without delay, you accept his offer, having an inkling you knew what was coming next.
"Sorry for my appearance," Streetwise mumbles, gathering your carefully into two servos, looking for something you would define as a hug. "It's raining outside."
he's extremely careful, but swift to lift you to his face-plate, hypervigilant to avoid any grime that had made it that far. he's gotten what he was looking for, lips moving against your shoulder as he deposits several benign kisses there.
"You don't have to apologize, as long as you're okay." your fingers find his respective cheeks, kissing his forehead in a consoling gesture. "I can only imagine, the weather was already pretty bad on my way over here."
Streetwise huffs into your sweatshirt, slowly standing as you remain cupped in his servos. "I think I'll survive,"
you survey the way his optics remain shuttered, holding you close as his thumbs spin soft circles over your back. it’s almost the way it usually is when it’s just the two of you behind closed doors, but this time, there’s something quieter about him, as if an unpredicted ease had seemingly has consumed his entire frame. Streetwise carried stress like it was his job title, shoulders tense, jaw tight, always pushing himself to stay a step ahead of whatever came next. it appeared to dissipate some when he was able to scrounge time to relax, but that reward never came frequent enough for the protectobot.
today was different. this was a surprise, an amazing one- time he didn't have count down because he could never properly live in the moment. time was just so precious with you, even more-so when it was just the two of you, so how could he not be selfish to wish it could stay like this forever?
"Not that I mind, because I don't," you start, now kissing his nose lovingly. "Do you want me to help you get washed up?"
Streetwise hugs you just a little tighter, burrowing deeper into your touch as if remotely possible. "As long as it's alright with you, I'd like to stay like this a little longer,"
"No problem, Streets." you murmur, knowing exactly what he meant once more, yourself more than fulfilled to stay like this as long as he'd have you.
[a/n: round three of the unfinished fics from the drafts! a fyi: this one is also unedited.]
conversation always felt so effortless amongst specific company, able to enthusiastically exchange words and divert the topic when it appeared to fizzle out. silence was once a stranger in Streetwises' relationship with you, though as of late it's appeared to wedge itself unwelcome in what was once simple chatter. he's practically watched the gears turning in your mind, face giving away your inner thoughts even if the expressions are almost imperceptible. your lips have opened and shut now four times, and he can't even blame you- his have about seven times, but he's lucky enough that you can't see that.
"It usually isn't this boring,"
he finds, hoping to spark something upon the dying embers of discussion. he wants this to stop being so awkward, but perhaps he doesn’t deserve that as much as he thinks he does.
at the sound of his voice, you look up from the absentminded nudging of your takeout around the flimsy plastic container.
"Boring?" you entreat, a soft smile adhering happily to your features. "I don't find this boring."
you weren't disinterested in what was going on, and hoped that your silence hadn’t suggested otherwise. in all honesty, it was quite the opposite, you were simply content to be curled up on his passenger seat, enjoying the comfort of his company. things hadn't been perfect since the other day, but truthfully you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be at the given moment, drawn to his side almost magnetically.
you had been searching all week to find some alone time with the mech, all smiles even when he'd stumbled over the offer twice before finding the right words. it hadn't felt like your place to try and bring up the subject, in fear of doing so prematurely, so you opted to leave the matter alone and pretend as if it never occurred, at least for the time being. not because you wished to do so, but if only to provide the space he had seemed to be seeking after what you can only label as the escapade.
several factors had hindered his ability to form a proper sentence, but he also had to find the perfect circumstance to extend the invitation. he'd tried to nudge the responsibility upon his teammates, seeking one of them to ask you, knowing that he couldn't ever scrounge the nerve to do so especially after what happened last week. and if you were considering this a date, which Streetwise was almost certain you weren't, it would be an awful one, full of a quiet he can't seem to fill, as much as he tried.
"I'm having fun," you earnestly implore, unable to stifle the twinges of red that settle over your ears and cheeks. searching to keep this conversation flowing, you add gently: "I have no expectations, I've never been on a patrol before. What normally happens?"
"Well..." he ex-vents, then withdraws the lie he had settled on. "Okay, you got me. It is usually this boring,"
you laugh softly, reaching down to place the container of food back into the bag resting on the floorboards. Streetwise can't help the erratic jolt of his rearview mirror, following your movements before observing you settle back against the passenger door. it's still sometimes a strange notion to not only observe, but feel a presence in his cabin, as weightless as your form is. very early on when they had met you, Rook once relayed how he'd forgotten you were there, so quiet and timid around them while they were still earning your trust.
even now, it was the first time he's seen you so relaxed in a while, dressed in comfy clothes that suited you undeniably well. it was difficult to believe that you'd been so willing to give up your night off to keep him company on such a fruitless task, but when he'd asked, your entire face lit up. as if you couldn’t quite conceptualize he was actually doing so, your excitement bubbled to the surface, always genuine and unfiltered, in a way that Streetwise, despite his usual restraint, couldn’t help but match.
"You really do this all by yourself?" you inquire, bundling a bit deeper into the black leather of the seat, hiking your blanket higher across your waist.
"For the most part, yeah," he rumbles, headlights flickering alive as something pings on his proximity sensors, but it proves to be a raccoon not far off from his hiding spot. "When I get to drive around, it's not so bad. The sitting here, though, it's the pits."
"I can only imagine." you return, sincerity at the forefront. then, a idea crosses your mind, and you sit with it for a moment, before temptation ultimately wins. "I am a little surprised you asked, though."
he pauses a little too long, unable to decode what you meant. "Surprised? What for?"
not quite expecting his confusion, you backpedal, unsure if now is the right time.
"I...I don't know." your fingers nervously draw shapes over the leather, searching for something else to say to fill the silence, but come up empty.
"If I don't make it obvious enough, you have my apologies," Streetwise starts, trying to not trip over his words to instill his point. "I like your company. That's the important part, actually."
"Aw, I enjoy yours too, Streets." you hum, feeling a familiar warmth spread over the apples of your cheeks. it feels nice, even if the doubt still swirls in the pit of your stomach. "I mean, this is-"
your words are promptly cut off by the sound of another engine somewhere behind him, set back in the trees yet too close for comfort. immediately, your shoulders jump to your ears, startled by the noise amongst the silence, but Streetwise doesn't seem overly concerned at the sound.
"It's most likely Groove or Rook," he soothes, head-lamps flickering to life. "We aren't too far from base, they probably think they're being funny-"
the engine roars again, and it's something far louder than the acquainted sound of the motorcycle or the navy SUV. your teeth sink nervously into your bottom lip, an action that Streetwise takes immediate notice of, sending inconceivably insistent alarms to his processor to protect you, to remove that nervousness and panic that twists within you.
After the exterior door swings open, the rush of fresh air reveals a landscape dressed in snow that hadn't been there upon initial arrival. Exposed fingers furl around the collar of a heavy coat, hopeful to better brace against the impending bitter weather. Hands slide into fuzzy pockets, silently swearing as you recall a set of gloves atop your counter, left there unremembered while leaving in a hurry.
It made perfect sense earlier in the evening to brave the short walk to work, as the draft was not as forceful as it now appeared. However, now to face the snow in worn out sneakers and exhausted legs proved brainless, but taken with stride. It wouldn't take long to get home, but you'd have to take the route a little more steadily and meticulously.
Just as you go to begin down the steps that lead to the rear parking lot, your phone buzzes within your coat pocket. Halting underneath the overhang to protect yourself from the elements, you swiftly answer the call and raise the phone to your ear, fingers now nipped by the winter breeze.
"Hey." It sounds as if he's driving, engine rumbling faintly in the background. "Did you decide to pick up that shift? I tried you once earlier, but it rang until voicemail picked up."
A small smile overtakes your expression, knowing that your inbox was probably nearing full of voicemails from the crew. Any chance they got, when their call ended up heading toward your answering machine, they would fill the allotted time with hilarious and heartfelt messages. They ranged from lighthearted bickering amongst each other to sincere check-ups, often wondering where you were or what you were up to.
Just by how he said it, you could tell Streetwise left a message and you looked forward to listening to the voice memo once you were home.
"Hi, Streets." You breathe, exhale visible due to the single digit temperatures, shifting uncomfortably in the cold. "I did. Sorry I missed your call."
"No complaints by me," He answers suavely, a lighter twinge to his tone as if satisfied that you were alright. "You in your car? I'll stay on the line until you're inside and headed home."
He and you both knew that you'd chat all the way back to your house, where he'd be waiting patiently in your driveway for your return. Streetwise shamefully used your garage as an escape from the nonsense around the base, yet you never seemed to mind, often calling to see if he was nearby. He had initially felt so much guilt regarding it, but you had expressed throughly enjoying the company, effortlessly hushing his worries with a simple sentence.
"Funny story, actually," You sputter a laugh, shoulders jumping slightly as chill runs the length of your spine. "Might be a little longer than normal, I walked today."
There's a deafening pause, knowing you were about to be chewed out as he carefully analyzes your words. "You what?" As if he didn't quite believe you.
"I walked to work?" Now a little shy, your nose begins to crinkle.
"Sorry, I thought I had misheard you." Streetwise's engine revs a little louder, and you think you can now hear him switch his blinker on. "Why didn't you let me drive you to work?"
He almost sounds offended, as if you didn't think of him first. You enjoyed any moment with Streetwise but it never felt quite right to abuse and deplete their resources, especially when everything was so touch-and-go. One instant they had enough to get by, the next, something was broken and needed the funds to be repaired.
Sniffling softly, you consider the thought before answering. "Because you aren't my personal chauffeur, Streetwise. And I have a car, I just chose to walk."
"Didn't check the weather, did you?" He counters, a hint of sarcasm.
"First of all, it was kinda a last minute decision to even pick up this shift. It was a nice day when I got here," Streetwise in turn laughs at your poor argument, but it disperses pretty quickly.
"I don't want you catching a cold, sweetspark. You know you can call me whenever, and I'll be there," He returns, casual but heartfelt. "No questions asked. And if I can't do it, I'll get one of the guys to. You know they'd be more than happy to."
When you don't immediately reply, he presses you gently. "You do know that, right?"
"Yeah." Chewing absentmindedly on your bottom lip, you go to take a courageous step onto the asphalt, not realizing how long you'd been standing there talking to him. "I just don't want to be any sort of burden, s'all. You guys have more than enough on your plate."
"And of all the things on my plate, guess what's most important to me?" You hardly make it three steps before headlights appear at the end of the street, illuminating the dimly lit road. "Making sure you are always safe. You're never a burden, anything I can do for you, I will."
"Thank you." You whisper, just barely making it to the sidewalk as he pulls up right at your front, window rolling down as you simultaneously end the call.
"Now get in, or I'll have to call First Aid to give you a check up," Each word is annunciated by the lights within his center console, the passenger door opening in one fluid motion. "And, I'm driving you to work tomorrow,"
"Okay, okay!" You giggle, maneuvering into his cabin. Once you're settled on the seat, the door closes over, the window tugging back up. "I promise, I won't walk anymore without checking the weather."
"I care about you, y'know?" It's softer, rearview mirror tilting your way as he begins back down the street.
With a small smile, you bob your head in acknowledgement before offering your own sentiments. "And I care about you, too."
"Good. We're on the same page." Streetwise ex-vents, but it's more so relief than anything else.
"You're staying tonight, right?" You ask, finally regaining some warmth within your fingertips.
"If you'll have me." He hums, coming to a stop at a red light.
"Always." Settling back against the leather of the seat, you begin to ramble off movies that you think he'd enjoy, the mech hanging onto each of your words with an infatuation that he can only describe as lovesick.
...
you have one new message, one new message waiting:
Hi y/n, it's Streetwise. I am going to take a wild guess and assume you picked up that shift you were talking about this morning, I hope all is well there. I don't really know why I'm leaving this message, I suppose to let you know I'll call you the usual time you get off. Like always. Agh, I guess I'm rambling now, scrap- but just wanted to make sure you were good. Okay? Alright. I'll talk to you soon, lo-
