rather abruptly, Sunstreaker has started talking to you whenever he thinks you've fallen asleep. it’s always things that never seem to make sense together, bits and pieces of his day or mumbles of affection that are saved for private moments somewhat scarce to come by. yet, greatly appreciated and adored nonetheless, a soft smile adhering to your face. you've never longed for consistent affection or felt incomplete without it, which makes each spoken sentiment all the more meaningful. you are fully aware it takes courage for him to risk getting hurt again by saying such things openly, so with each soft affirmation, you offer two in return
you often wonder how he deciphers that you’re ‘asleep’, because he’s mostly incorrect in that regard. perhaps he believes that his hums of acknowledgment put you out like a light, or the simple darkness of his room that would entice anyone to catch some shut-eye. Sunstreaker can’t help himself, moments like these are ones he wishes could last far longer than they ever realistically do. it’s almost unfair, but watching your eyes finally slip shut after hours of conversations, it’s a hung jury on what he can say he truly prefers. though pouty, he understands you need your rest, even though some part of him is tempted to keep you awake, just to indulge in a small, selfish desire.
he prefers to sprawl out whilst laying on his stomach, helm resting atop his right arm as his left servo comes to hold you close. the pad of his index finger draws careful shapes along your back, gazing at you with heavy optics that likely crave to rest themselves. Sunstreaker always appears at full peace here, unusually quiet but unyielding to display his implacable admiration for you. you evidently find yourself struggling to stay awake, feigning sleepiness until, inevitably, it washes over you for real. maybe you subconsciously succumb to sleep earlier than usual, if only to hear Sunstreaker’s voice, heavy with a matching exhaustion. he deserves this brief moment, quietly enchanted by your presence and filled with a love he rarely dares to show.
Mod May Week Two Story! I went with Sunny on this one, sorry any Rodimus fans! I do want to write for him more so he will be back in the future. The poll for week 3 will go up tomorrow so keep an eye open for that. Also, let me know how you feel about these; are you enjoying this event or not? Please drop me an ask and let me know!
Warnings: None
“Perfect.” Sunstreaker shifted in the mirror, armor gleaming in the light. He moved to the left for a moment, scowling before beginning to buff his leg again. You watched from the shelf as he began to start his routine over, smiling to yourself. He had been preparing for your date all day and now that it’s time to get going he’s still getting ready.
“We’re going to miss the opening at this point.” Your voice isn’t upset, merely stating a fact. He meets your eyes, scoffing a bit.
“I’m the best-looking thing, doesn’t matter where we go.” You laugh at his words, grinning, and watching as he began to apply his wax. You had known this was going to happen. Any time you invite him out it turns into a long night, mostly because you don’t get started until late. Last week it was a concert and the week before it was a trip to the zoo.
“Do you want any help babe?” You knew that your offer was going to be denied but wanted to still offer. Sunstreaker turned to you with a scoff, more a smirk than a smile on his faceplates.
“No, I got it. You just need to watch.” You laugh again, shaking your head and continuing to watch. You didn’t tell him that being late wasn’t a big deal, making sure that your reservations were actually an hour later. Sunstreaker would drag this out even more if he knew.
You got it, on some level. It was rare for people to want to spend time with him and not Sideswipe. Because of that, Sun had a habit of ‘testing’ people. You didn’t think that he was conscious of it but you’ve noticed it after months of being together.
“I’m ready to go.” You were snapped out of your thoughts by Sunstreaker’s voice, grinning as he turned in front of you. He was gleaming from head to ped, preening as you looked him over.
“You look absolutely stunning.” He grins at your words, turning back to the mirror. You hum, watching as he admired himself. His curves were perfect and his aft even more so. You didn’t mind admiring him either, especially when he was showing off for you.
responses to an overworked/sleepy s/o [w/ ultra magnus, sunstreaker, & hound]
ultra magnus
Ultra Magnus knows that he’s the biggest hypocrite in this situation, but you’ve yawned four times in the past five minutes. it sends alarms across his processor, observing the way you use the back of your hand to poorly cover such an exhausted gesture. somehow, this less than gentle alert that your body was tired was not enough, yourself shuffling through a stack of papers as you carry on with little qualms. Magnus can feel his optic twitch, unable to quietly fight the urge to knock some sense into you about your health and well-being. adjusting to time and your schedule has come a little easier to him, mostly due to finding himself in your company on a daily basis. understanding what he does now, he finds self-assurance in calling you out about getting some rest, the hour far past the original time you had set to get some rest.
“y/n?” he rumbles, slightly baffled that you don’t even offer your undivided attention, acknowledging him with a noise he can’t quite label. a thought passes him by: is this how other mechs feel when he’s drowning in paperwork? “It is very late. Perhaps you would do better to pick this up in the morning?”
finally, your eyes tear away from the papers to meet his, and then Magnus is whacked with the realization he has to stand firm here. you must’ve been at this for hours, fatigue and enervation translating well enough from your gaze and pouring down the rest of your body. “Sorry. Run that by me again?”
“I will do no such thing,” he’s good at being the bad guy, the one who has to play fair and look out for others. but for you? he’s willing to beg, stand firm in seeing you get some much deserved, and earned sleep. “This will be here when you awake. Rest.”
your pout works on him, and the worst part of it all is you must know it does. “Five more minutes?” you plead, trying your best to stifle a yawn that Magnus sees far too easily. every bone in your body begs you to relent, but stubbornness finds you once more as you think of all the studying that needs to be done before tomorrow.
“No.” he’s caged you between two massive hands, leaning forward until you’re forced to meet his stare and not the copious amounts of work spread out around the berth. “You cannot use my own tactics against me. Bed, now.”
sunstreaker
something wakes Sunstreaker up about three hours into his recharge, and with little investigation he comes to find you on the other side of the room. after you’d said three hours ago you’d join him in ten minutes, that turned out to be the biggest lie in the world. disoriented and mildly irritated, his brow furrows when he calls your name, confused as to why you jump in surprise. everything about you breathes burnout, eyes glassy as they eventually lock with his across the room. were you so consumed and entranced by that textbook that you hadn’t heard him grumble under his breath before calling out to you? how dare such a stupid object hold your attention and not him, slowly losing his already depleted patience.
“Get over here.” Sunstreaker hums, trying once to be nice instead of brash. he’s come to take a second to mull over his words before they leave his voice box, trying his damndest to say what he means the first time. yet, this time, instead of pulling away from your study materials, you only dive deeper.
“I’ll be right there,” you whisper, as if he was still in and out of recharge. “Just have to finish this chapter, and-” you squeak as he abruptly stands from the berth, lumbering over to where you were sitting on his desk. fumbling with the textbook, your finger saves the page before you close it over, trying your best to appear defiant and adamant, but losing miserably. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” Sunstreaker counters, expecting no reply. “You said ‘ten more minutes’ hours ago. Bed, or I throw that book.”
you appear miserable. the happiness that normally contradicts his irritable behavior is nowhere to be found, something that concerns him greatly. you had mentioned earlier in the week about an upcoming test that was stressing you out, but now this studying venture has crossed over into territory that enrages Sunstreaker. you weren’t taking care of yourself, unworried about how a newfound weariness preoccupies you. whenever you speak ill of yourself or doubt your abilities, it seizes him so greatly that he can’t focus on anything else. don’t you know how much he loves you, and knows you’ll do great things, no matter what?
somehow, you know he means it, sighing in defeat. “Fine, fine.” with a small smile, you close the book over with a defeated sigh. “Sorry. The test is in two days.”
to your surprise, Sunstreaker mumbles his words, but the sincerity is overwhelming. “I’ll try to help you study tomorrow. But now, bed, and I mean it.”
hound
you’ve certainly done a lot of typing in the past couple of hours, Hound has noticed. enough that with each hour that slips by, it’s time for him to wrap his tasks up and fully join your company, excited to hear about what you’ve been up to and relax into the evening with no issue. except, that’s mostly thrown out the window as he takes in your body language, surveying the way your palm runs over your face and rubs at your eyes, only to return to your laptop seconds later. the light from the screen illuminates your features, but all Hound can focus on is how your shoulders slump forward, a glasiness overtaking your eyes that he can’t quite decipher the reason behind. you’re clearly spent, drained of the day's responsibilities as they now carry over into time that should be spent away from the computer.
“y/n?” he tries, using the tip of his digit to run down the length of your leg, vying for your attention, selfish as that may be to admit. “Y’alright? Busy day?”
for a moment, you pull away from the laptop, blinking wildy before realizing it was only Hound. everything in you yearned to just shut the computer and set this aside for another time, but the idea of being ahead tomorrow entranced you far too much. “I’m good! I’d just like to finish this up, I swear I’m almost done.” famous last words.
your slight startle at his touch and words worried him, the way you appear so disconnected from reality as you are solely focused on typing a report that didn’t need to be completed at this very moment. though your overworked and tired demeanor concerns him greatly, Hound is willing to yield if only to respect your wishes. he cares so deeply for you that perhaps just this once, he’d overlook the fact that you probably really needed some shut-eye now. it’s like overriding a code, Hound feels as if he’s programmed to look out for everyone and their health, you always residing as his top priority. always number one on his list, finding that sometimes you unintentionally neglect your wellbeing, himself guilty of similar behaviors.
but then you don’t stick to your original plans. more time has escaped you, and Hound’s fretting has skyrocketed to the point where he isn’t ashamed to implore you to get some rest. “Yer exhausted,” he rumbles, broad shoulders drooping as you tear your eyes away from the screen to massage at your temples once more. “Don’t overwork yourself. It ain’t worth it, ah know it first hand.”
doing what Hound asks of you is an easy feat, as forfeit finds you. with a sleepy smile, you power down the computer and set it to the side to be tomorrow's problem. this time was precious with him, sacred and not effortless to come by. “Sorry.” you stumble over your words, trying to stifle a yawn in the meantime. “I’m alright. It’s done for the evening.”
the stairs are a formidable opponent, silently mocking the exhaustion that claims you, head to toe. there's not an ounce of patience or grace left in your bones, worn down by the day’s events and with no promise that tomorrow will bring any semblance of relief. with dwindling strength, you complete the task, boots stopping short just before your door in an exaggerated but indispensable matter. fumbling for your keys, you exhale a frustrated huff after choosing the wrong one twice, before finally sliding the correct key into the top lock.
the place appears just as you had left it, except in vast contrast as now everything is enveloped in an inky darkness. now blatantly alone, the dark and empty rooms offer little ease, alongside the thought that Sunstreaker never checked in today. that in itself is odd, as today he was off in the afternoon, and was partial to trying to set up plans for the evening. not that you could have met up with him today, as you were working forced time until the early morning, but some guilt crosses you that you hadn't relayed that information to him.
maybe he had gotten caught up with something. that would explain his radio silence, even if his untimely disappearance don't often include explanations. sluggishly, your palm coasts along your back pocket, searching for your phone, tugging it free from the same place it's been stuffed for hours. with a simultaneous guilt and dread consuming you, you come to find the device has been completely drained of its battery, no incoming messages to be found on the black screen.
with a breathless sigh, you set your bag on the ground and begin towards your bedroom, in search of your phone charger. this likely wouldn't bode well if someone had been looking for you, unknown how long it'd been powered down. with maximum effort, your fingers curl around the door knob, finding that you must've left it ajar sometime this morning, having left in a hurry.
nothing quite compares to the scream that leaves your throat to find Sunstreaker lying in your bed, only regarding you with a look that you can describe as annoyed. he isn't so thrilled that you're screaming, but there is a bit of relief that sinks into his frame to discover that you were alright.
you recover a bit sloppily, hand coming to your chest to qualm your racing heart. "What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark like that? You scared me."
"I gathered that," he hums, relaxing back into your messy tangle of sheets and blankets. "I couldn't find the light switch."
with some semblance of a deadpan, your fingers raise and flick the light on, enveloping the room in a dimmed brightness from the one lamp on the nightstand.
"Oh." he rumbles, not hiding his indifference. "It's minimal payback for you ignoring me all day."
you watch the way he has an armful of your pillows, cheek smushed into the material as he surveys you carefully, searching for your reaction. that same guilt finds you again, settling in bottom of your stomach as your shoulders sag downward in vanquish.
accepting some defeat, you hold your phone up, walking across the room to plug the device in. "My phone died. I'm sorry."
Sunstreaker's cerulean optics follow your form, pushing off your bed to a standing position when you walk right past him. even mass-displaced, he still is tall and broad, peering down at you with alleviating scrutiny.
"I'm guessing you texted that you were going to be here?" you surmise.
he nods curtly twice. "I did."
there's another sentence that builds on his tongue, but it doesn't spit out fast enough before you continue.
"I'm sorry." you repeat, back to him as you start digging through your dresser in search of some pajamas. "I had a long day, and I didn't realize-"
"You usually work until eleven Thursdays." there's a pout to his tone, but it's gentler than you were expecting. "Why'd your schedule change?"
when you still weren't facing him, too occupied with trying to figure out where your favorite pair of pants had disappeared to, he makes a noise in the back of his throat that almost sounds like a whine. where all this desperation came from, he was uncertain, wondering just how you had managed to make him such a muddled mess. his emotions were being tugged as if they were on strings, reduced to a ball of frustration, mostly directed at his inability to speak such affections.
as far as he knows, nobody is aware of such sentiments, because there is hardly any change in his demeanor. they can't decipher that Sunstreaker is in constant indecision with telling you how strongly he feels, because he's too worried about being hurt all over again if he dares to vocalize his adoration. perhaps maintaining what you've decided to label this as is the most suitable resolution for both parties; however, this does not imply that Sunstreaker is unwilling to treat you with the respect and care you deserve.
with that being considered, whenever he ponders the topic for too long, there are moments when doubt creeps in, emotions that stir quietly, yet deeply, leaving him with a slow, inescapable ache of culpability. it's the constant reminder that he'll never be right for you, haunted by a past filled with moments that never quite turned in his favor, he carries the quiet weight of things left unresolved. fully aware that he could never face you after ruining something so precious, it's a reluctant decision to leave it where it stands, even if it's not what he yearns for.
"I was forced to pick up overtime." you return, gasping slightly to find him so close upon turning around. how he crept on you so quietly was horrifying and fascinating all in the same breath, tilting your head back to meet his scrutinizing gaze. "Are you okay? What's the matter?"
Sunstreaker, try as he may to suppress it, is quite obvious when something is amiss. whether that be by your own doing, or other factors you had no idea of but he would certainly filter their way into your discussion, there was a storm brewing. you could feel the tension impend between the two of you, but for some reason, it drew you closer, sincerely wanting to dig to the root of his woes. it wasn't often that he revealed his inner thoughts so effortlessly, so you took the chance to try and understand his barricades and what he kept behind them.
emotions were a sensitive topic, and a little more blurry when trying to translate your own to a mech who makes you already vigorously happy presently. it’s like reaching for more when your heart already feels full, drawn by a quiet light that seems to whisper there’s still something beautiful waiting to be found. not wishing to appear as the downfall of an already wonderful amity, you shelve the topic for perhaps a more perfect moment, still yet to be seen.
he raises a brow at you, evidently puzzled. "I'm fine. Overtime? What kind of scrap excuse is that?"
"I don't know what to tell you," you groan, feeling whatever remainder of energy you had left seep into the carpet beneath your feet. "I was forced, Sunstreaker. It's kinda in the name, I don't have a choice."
you attempt to push past him, not aggressively- mostly in annoyance, but he doesn't allow it. a servo lands on your upper arm, holding you hostage before you could get very far, no more than two steps forward. it doesn't hurt, he's being clement as always, but there was not a chance in hell he was letting you go so easily.
"Last week you were 'busy' too," he gravels, unimpressed by your crankiness, but compassionate to your exhaustion. "Today, your phone magically happened to have no battery."
hanging your head in defeat, you yield your defenses. "Someone wanted to go out for drinks last week. I tried to get out of it, but I couldn't."
you were starting to feel like a broken record.
"That's an even lamer excuse."
finally having enough, you yank your head up and over, folded clothes nearly slipping from your erratic movement. "What are you, jealous?"
Sunstreaker falters, his digits actually going slack around your warm skin. the call-out he likely deserved, but in such a defensive manner he was not expecting.
jealous? no. well, maybe, a bit- but he was worried about you, wondering where you'd been when he had so carefully memorized every task on your schedule. of course, you were never bound to it, as neither was he to his own, but one of the many things he appreciated about you was your honesty.
change of plans, but I'll talk to you soon.
and the worst part of this entire conversation was that you were telling the truth, he watched with his own optics your phone turn back on whilst displaying an empty battery screen. you were still in your uniform, dark circles starting to form under your beautiful eyes, and here he was ruining the scraps of the evening he had left with you.
"Whatever." you sense the lax in his hold, wrenching your arm free and moving toward the door. "I'm going to get changed."
the bedroom door slams over with a little more than necessary aggravation, leaving Sunstreaker dumfounded in the center. he still hadn't come up with a candid response to your question, startled by the frustration that laced into your words. clearly, you were already at your limit, and he shoved you far beyond it and then some. in retrospect, he was truly deserving of your indignation, but as always, he recognized this aspect a little too late.
he hears you leave the bathroom when the door creaks over, but you don't make the left he anticipates you to make, back toward the bedroom.
you head in the direction of the kitchen instead, and with mild reluctance, Sunstreaker follows.
the passing anger leaves you as you move around the kitchen, hearing the mech enter the room to your right from the hall. you're halfway through putting together a bowl of cereal when he's at your side once more, looming but trying his best not to appear overbearing. he's giving you space to move away, if you weren't quite ready to talk to him, or about it yet.
"I'm guessing it wasn't a good day, then." Sunstreaker mumbles, holding back his disgust with your meal of choice.
you shrug, but don't look his way just yet. "Not the best, no."
your coldness is warranted, but it doesn't mean he wasn't going to try and rectify what he had broken. "Look, I can tell you're tired-"
"So why do you continue to push my buttons?"
Sunstreaker tries again to meet your gaze, but fails terribly. "Alright, alright."
at his tone, you assume he's going to retreat back to your bedroom, to allow you time to cool off completely before trying to recover the already dwindling evening. in return, you sigh, moving to finally catch his optics before you are promptly whisked off your feet.
large hands cup your thighs, holding you close to chilly plating with little room to argue. just as you swallow the gasp that almost leaves your lips, his face presses against the crook of your neck, lips moving across ticklish skin.
"I can tell you're exhausted." he can't meet your eyes to say it, so instead he hopes his voice can convey his sincerity. "When you didn't answer your phone, I thought somethin' was wrong, and-"
as if it was physically ripped from his chassis, he murmurs: "I missed you."
your fingers find his shoulders, trying to push him upright so you could accept his version of an apology, but he won't budge. as if he wasn't quite worthy of your kindness or forgiveness, he hides in one of his favorite spots, leaving sparse pecks of affection along your sternum.
"Sunny," you whisper.
he perks some at the nickname, hoping the benign twinge to your words wasn't fraudulent.
"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you, and I know I should have checked sooner to see if my phone was dead. It just happened to be a perfect storm, and I know that's a lame excuse."
"I wasn't-"
you coax him once more, and he relents, allowing your hands to cup his face. "I know. I missed you too,"
he can't help the way his spark thrums loudly whenever he's near you, or the way his psyche subconsciously yearns to be with you every moment of every day. minutes without you feel like hours, stretching him and his patience thin until the elasticity eventually breaks.
if he could uncover the right words to convey just how much you mean to him, than perhaps his moments of blind exasperation could make a little more sense. he worries for you, so deeply that maybe his envy truly is wildly misplaced, unfounded in the situation he crafted. everything has felt like a whirlwind lately, and perhaps he was unaccustomed to having something so delicate, yet so perfect to care for. he is well aware there's things he needs to work on, both for you and this relationship, but if there's one thing he can be eternally grateful for is your forbearance and empathy.
you have your moments and threshold as well, as all do. you have your faults and qualities that you don't trust are meant to be shared with the world, but you've dropped your guard and let him in to see them. you know what it means to be loved, to give love, and to carry it softly even on the days you feel unworthy of it. you're everything he's not, but every time he brings such an apparent observation up, you smile brightly and tell him that 'opposites attract'.
you are perfect to him, inside and out, and if it was up to Sunstreaker, this minute in time would last forever.
[a/n: hii! this is not nsfw/explicit, but I am going to put a warning: MDNI, 18+ only! suggestive themes & mass-displaced mech ahead.]
though easily convinced, a trait he kept close and let few discover, he’d still complain as if it were the greatest inconvenience in the world. it's ineluctable, a reflex even, yet he was the one who hadn’t moved in over an hour. it takes nothing at all, Sunstreaker knows all you need to do is ask and the answer is always the most effortless yes he's ever given- but if you're aware of such, you still give in to his game. circles of him grumbling about how he's busy, to which you argue he's always off on Fridays. little do you know, he was already on his way the moment you called, unwilling to waste a second of the precious, albeit limited time he gets with you.
there's some movies that entice him, others he pays strict attention to because you'd mentioned offhand it was a favorite of yours. now, though, the film plays on and Sunstreaker is incapacitated by how warm your body feels, chest to chest beneath a fuzzy blanket. fleetingly, he believes you've fallen fast asleep, but every handful of moments or so you readjust, not trying to get away, but burrowing to somehow get unthinkably closer.
with your arms slipped around his neck, it's difficult to not be hyperaware of how perfect such a snapshot is. the room has been enveloped in a darkness, aside from the faint glow from the television screen and the half-lidded gleam of his optics. briefly, he's wise to the dialogue in the background between characters and the quiet noise of your breaths, though his focus never wavers from the slow, deliberate study of every inch of your body.
Sunstreaker finds that the question he wishes to ask dies in his throat every time he spares a glance at your peaceful face. you're exhausted, rightfully so after a long week full of responsibilities and assignments, fighting to stay awake to see the end of the movie. heedless to his regard, tired as you were, you still sought his company, same as you do every Friday.
his cheek found its way against the cotton of your sweatshirt, trying to catch your attention without uttering a single word. when you stir, his servos came to rest at the backs of your thighs, cupping just beneath your bottom in the gentlest manner he can compose.
you mumble something into his sternum, fingers unlatching from where they previously circled his neck, an obvious sign you were trying to look for the remote. immediately, Sunstreaker's optics flit to the television, catching that the movie had ended, credits rolling on a faded screen that wraps the room in an inky hue even further.
a simultaneous surprised oof tumbles from your lips as his servos slide to your upper back, digits finding the fabric with little complications to keep you just where you were. he says nothing, cerulean optics hazy but entirely focused on yours, thumbs drawing mindless circles atop your back.
"I was just gonna put another movie on," you huff, palms slipping down the respective sides of his chassis, seeking to get him into your version of a hug. "You could have-"
"Could have what?" he rumbles, sinking a little deeper into your sofa when you try to push off him once more, even if your efforts were laughably futile.
“Asked,” you breathe, swallowing a gasp as one of his knees works its way between your legs, servos skimming a little further down until they settle firmly, but placidly on your waist. “Hey, what are you doing-?”
the squeak of utter shock does escape you this time around, fingers scrambling for purchase as he lifts you straight into the air and swaps positions with you. now, yourself flat out on your back atop the couch, and Sunstreaker, looking down at you with the most intense yet clever stare. he keeps all of his weight off of you, yet his knee still holds between your legs, and his servos envelop your waist.
“I’ll keep in mind for next time that the Halloween movies really aren’t your thing,”
he rolls his optics, dipping further some before one servo comes to cup your cheek, your hands reaching to do the same for him in return. “I was paying attention,”
he catches a twinkle in your eye that he’s all too familiar with, a laugh forming on your pursed lips.
“Don’t you dare say prove it.” he exhales sharply, unamused by the question he knows is coming.
there’s a brief moment of complete silence, only interrupted by some theatrical music as the dvd returns to the startup screen. temptation drifts from your thoughts, as your shoulders relax into the pillow behind you.
instead, a softer smile overtakes your features, drawing him in even closer, nearly nose to nose when he sincerely can't help himself. it's impressive how his self-restraint disappears whenever he's in the same four walls as you, pulled to you like a magnet. Sunstreaker's careful, observant of what he does and your reaction to it- worried he may hurt you or take things too far, wary of crossing a line as his reputation suggests.
but you indulge him, wants it just as badly, if not more than he does, an adorable conviction. he's too busy mesmerized by smile you send him when you cross the remaining distance, palms skating past his cheeks to wrap around his neck once more, capturing his chilly skin against your warm lips in a unassuming kiss.
the servo that was previously holding his weight off of you buckles, as if slightly startled by your unexpected gesture. though, his stunned appearance lasts no longer than a second, the palm that holds your face moves on instinct to deepen the kiss, thumb ghosting across your skin in a charming manner.
the seconds count in his processor, knowing when you were going to tug back to come up for air. when you do, a familiar impatience passes him by, wanting to be all over you once more but has since learned better to stifle his rampaging impulses.
it's as if you can hear him, searching to sit up so you can kiss him once more.
now in a sitting position, Sunstreaker can't help himself, tugging you into his lap as one servo sits on your lower back, the other tangling into your hair as he picks up where you both left off, your fingers dancing over his shoulders before landing right back atop his cheeks.
your skin is so soft, warm. it's in vast contrast to his wintry touch, plating that seeps in your warmth and holds onto it as long as feasibly possible. he just wishes to be as humanely close to you as possible, yourself mumbling series' of "I love you's" happily against his lips.
his unoccupied servo wanders beneath your sweatshirt, digits running over your spine. his voice-box nearly hitches when your lips roam over his face-plate, beginning a trail over his chin and along his jaw, a sequence of comforting kisses one after the other.
"y/n-" he starts, but it quickly loses it's intent when you reach a sensitive spot along his neck, a garbled noise emitting from him. "You're doing that on purpose,"
without a single word, you move back up to meet his gaze, tugging his hand from your face and guiding it over the three fading hickeys he had left the last time he was here.
Sunstreaker scoffs, but a tiny smile does find its way to his face. "Payback, then."
"Sounds like it," you respond, but your craftiness doesn't last when he servo moves to your front, cold digits running over the ticklish skin of your stomach.
"I know a thing or two about that," he hums, stealing one more kiss from you before a breathy laugh breaks free, trying to pull his hands from beneath your sweatshirt.
"I was kidding-" you attempt, squirming on his lap each time his touch makes contact with your skin. "Sunny-"
"My turn," Sunstreaker rasps, rough but laced with a teasing warmth you can’t resist.
Sunstreaker, while incapacitated by his own stubbornness, yields to the notion that he is helplessly in some sort of limbo, afraid to ruin something so delicate. it's a realization that doesn't follow too far after the fast friendship, something of polar opposites attracting upon your insistence. you were determined to break his infuriating outer shell, though unaware of it, you were simultaneously twisting something a little more fragile, emotions that haven't seen the light of day in thousands of years.
it doesn't take very long to realize that he's severely attracted to your presence, unaccustomed to such gentleness and kindness, yet feels something is missing whenever you aren't within the room. Sunstreaker's shadow hardly goes where he does not, even bending some firm rules as if only to steal more precious moments with you when he can't part ways just yet. of course, circumstances permitting, he always puts your safety above everything, but it doesn't mean that you are any less missed when days meld into weeks.
"It's getting late," your head lolls to the left, addressing the yellow mech that lounges just beside you. among other reluctances to depart, the room is quiet, softened by dim light and the low, steady hum of his systems.
"So?" he drawls, sinking further atop his berth, attempting to level with you. "Who cares."
you laugh softly, half amused, the other half trying to wriggle free as one of his digits skates under your shirt, ghosting over the ticklish skin there. "I do, I have work in the morning."
he moves slowly, a laziness to his actions but full of purpose as well. his thumbs settle on your thighs, digits sliding behind your back to engulf the entirety of your torso, crouching low to close the remaining distance. you're smiling wildly, entranced by the hazy gleam of his cerulean stare, leaning forward until your noses gently brush against each other.
"Stay," Sunstreaker rumbles, exerting utmost effort to keep his weight off of you, but wishing to be close as possible simultaneously.
you blink thrice, starting to feel as if you were treading unfamiliar waters, unsure how to proceed. "Is that... alright?"
it's the first time he's ever implored you, but mainly because it wasn't necessarily allowed. while it was very evident to a jealous Sunstreaker that Ironhide doted on you, he stood very firm in what was his list of rules, and that meant you were home safe and sound by a particular hour.
what you didn't know wouldn't hurt you, as he often warped more than a few of Ironhide's rules. Sunstreaker could take the punishment like a champ, he always did, if only to break another regulation the following week, though temporarily heavily satisfied he got to see you for just a little while longer.
"'Course it is," he practically melts when you reach up to kiss the tip of his nose, fingers dancing over his cheeks, cradling them with your warm touch. "Why wouldn't it be?"
he has to stifle a bark of laughter when you lower your voice, trying to look around the room hesitantly, but find that you can't due to his looming presence. "Does anybody know that I'm here?" you whisper.
your genuineness and honesty has a way of keeping him in the present, just by the way you are just so truthfully precious. while those words don't find him easily to speak aloud, he dips further, sticking his nose between your neck and shoulder as placidly as he can.
"No," Sunstreaker's lips press softly against your shirt, his familiar grumble lacing his words, yet beneath it all, there’s a quiet trace of laughter, warm and unguarded, meant only for you "S'kinda the point of sneakin' you in, y/n."
your eyes go slightly wide, as if this was news to you. "But I don't want you to get in trouble."
"I promise, I can handle whatever my punishment is." another lazy kiss to your sternum, sending a chill down the length of your spine. "That is, if the old mech ever finds out,"
you gasp lightly when he suddenly tugs you closer, always overbearingly benign and never rough. "Sunstreaker..."
"S'fine." his words fall into place alongside several kisses, ones that trail up from your shoulder to your neck, then finally to your forehead. "I don't want you to go just yet. Stay."
though he was extremely adamant, a plague of worry still consumed you at the idea of someone finding out, or him being punished because of a rule you technically broke. even still, it was hard to deny him when he asked so nicely, thumbs now drawing lax circular motions across your thighs. he's trying to convey something, unwilling or uncertain to speak it, but you think it's all starting to come together.
he'd missed you.
and you had missed him so terribly, there was little room in your heart to deny such a simple request.
"Oh, okay." you relent, comfortably settling back against his berth. "I'll have to leave in the morning though, so I can-"
"I'll take care of it," he freezes when you kiss beneath his jaw, yet the momentary lapse dissolves when your fingers brush his neck, skimming over some of his already overheating frame. "Don't worry about a thing, I will handle it."
"I concede," you reply, shoulders resting back against his berth, laughter bubbling in your throat as he searches for exposed skin to kiss further.
his helm dips lower, still searching to be as close to you as possible, but then you then leave a long peck atop his cupid bow that has his voicebox hitching.
"By the way, Sunny?" you breathe, palms finding his cheeks as you speak, his optics finding your gaze effortlessly. "I missed you too."
curiosity appeared to be a vicious and insatiable desire, such interest had secured the upper hand very early on in the evening. there had been a handful of things that had nudged him toward the edge of concern, the major offender being a cancellation to a typical Thursday evening activity. perhaps even worse, unwarranted dead air holding firm on the receiving end, only adding to the smoldering fuse that is Sunstreaker's patience.
he had acted disinterested in your reasoning and unbothered by it entirely, not wanting to appear desperate. yet, if there was one thing that Sunstreaker could reluctantly accept, it's that he's terribly desirous of your attention and affection at all hours of the day. time never was and never will be on his side, so it's rather painful to watch such precious moments disappear between his servos when you ask for a raincheck, last minute to boot too.
but you don't do it often, it's a rare occurrence on your end, more often than not it's his unruly schedule that disrupts plans on a regular basis. if there was anything he could count on, it would be routine Thursday night patrols, as there was never a good enough excuse available to squirm out of such responsibilities. Ironhide was rather adamant about such tasks, and there was never another mech willing to pick up another's shift, no matter how much nagging and begging was deployed.
so something that was once a chore, became more of a welcomed ritual. you don't know that Ironhide doesn't know you tag along, but it's very apparent that if he did find out, Sunstreaker would be punished six ways to Sunday. he abides by the same motto, rules are meant to be bent, and if only to save his sanity, such ordinances are warped a little to sway in his favor.
a cancellation has him thrown for a loop. immediately after you break the news, his mouth flubs to move, unsure of how to properly respond. an argument rises, defenses raised, but it's not fair to act so selfishly, especially when he hasn't discovered the true reasoning behind your withdrawal. you were the one indulging him every Thursday, so the very least he could do was let this one go, but it also didn't mean that Sunstreaker would be happy about it.
"Everythin' okay?" he recalls asking, instantly noticing that something was off. "You sound...off."
in reply, you had disposed a plethora of justifications that hadn't made sense in a cohesive retrospect. surely separately they would have, but bouncing around the true reason only lead him to believe his initial suspicion was correct.
"Just- tired." you had decided on, ultimately cutting yourself off. "Any chance we can meet up tomorrow? The day after?"
neither suggestion would have worked with his schedule, but there was no grounds to deny you so quickly when you ask so nicely. "Yeah. I'll figure it out."
his engine revs impatiently within the dimly lit parking lot. Bluestreak is somewhere up the street, and his consistent radio check-ins are Sunstreaker's only source of solace, listening to the mech talk on about some movie he had seen at a drive-in a day earlier.
"No y/n today?"
jolting somewhat, the yellow lambo grumbles in annoyance before replying. "No. They're tired."
"Oh." Blue hums, understanding now why he hadn't heard your voice all evening, and the cause of Sunstreaker's flared irritation. "Are they okay?"
"Yes." Sunstreaker pauses. "I guess? I don't know. I got the vibe somethin' was wrong but I wasn't able to get much further than that."
"Well, times almost up." his friend responds, a hint of something more within his tone. "I can cover for you if you'd like to swing by. Just to make sure everything really is okay."
his wheels roll forward in temptation, to only lock in place shortly after in realization. "Is that being...oh what's the word? Overbearing?"
"Nah." Bluestreak rumbles in short laughter. "But the concern is written all over your face. Check it out, and tell 'em I said hi."
your house isn't very far from the center of town, a short drive that Sunstreaker knows by heart, taking familiar roads until he ends up against recognizable curb.
yet, your phone rings once, twice- even a third ring that is foreign to him. all the lights are out, the only comfort to be found is the discovery of your vehicle in the driveway, unmoved since he last saw it two days prior.
on the second attempt to reach you, you do pick up the phone, but it's nearly reached the last ring. "Hello?"
"What, are you holed up in there with all the lights off?" Sunstreaker murmurs, trying to stifle his arrogance. "It's seven in the evenin', I know you aren't sleeping."
there's a lengthy pause on the other end of the line, as if you're weighing your options. "Can't get much past you, huh?"
the bottom floor erupts with light, just as the garage door simultaneously lifts upward, a silent invitation that he knows all too well.
"You're a bad liar," he agrees, shifting gears so that he can begin traversing up your driveway, determined to reach the root of your troubles.
you outwardly appear okay, standing on the stairs to the concrete room whilst holding your arms. dressed casually, there's a small smile adorned to your face, yet your eyes reveal to imprison the most emotion, an exhaustion and stress that was near undefinable. for a mech who is so often labeled as unhelpful, he can't help the impulse to solve all your problems, to bring that smile saved just for him back to your face.
you've been the missing piece to many of his puzzles. if you could only understand how badly he needs you, how much he relies on you for support and advice. how much he loves you.
Sunstreaker covets to solve all of your problems in an instant. to make everything better as quickly and swiftly as possible, to make every wrong right again. you deserve a lot more than what he has to offer, but if there's one thing he can do in this very moment, is decide on a firm and unshakeable conclusion. to make you happy, to bring a sense of comfort and support to the room without appearing heavy-handed.
"But so am I. Takes one to know one, and all that scrap."
The silence is overrun by the slamming of the exterior door, the panel crunching against the wall in an impatient manner. Suddenly terrified, you jump to attention, as the noise echos down the corridor. It isn't what you initially expected, but a fear forms in the pit of your stomach and crawls up to your throat, evoking a gasp of surprise.
A boisterous return was typical with the result of some sort of victory, but that depended on who, as well as the current state of affairs. While you had been taught that even the smallest success deserved celebrations, this was unlike any arrival you've ever borne witness to, incomparable to a triumph. This was the exact opposite, a deafening quiet aside from a sporadic shuffle of steps, a sound that overpowers the dread to ask what's going on, or what happened.
Heavy footfalls become increasingly sparse as if the mech in question could not keep balance, sluggish in stride. In a frenzied scramble, you can't quite make it to the floor fast enough, only halfway across the metal flooring before the interior panel hisses over.
After the bot on the other side punches the keypad, there stood Sunstreaker, about a yard between the two of you, one hand splayed across his lower abdomen as if to hold the energon in. His unoccupied hand would hold most of his weight up, grabbing the doorframe so tightly he'd warped the metal, unconcerned by his grip.
Eyes now jumped wide, you struggle to find a question to ask that isn't insensitive or downright counterproductive. The yellow mech hauls himself into the room, and with such an erratic movement, more lifeforce spills from his wound, a grunt leaving his saturated lips.
"Ratchet." He finally addresses you after a hasty scan of the empty command center, a flare of more annoyance than usual.
"Isn't here," You squeak, palms raised frantically as if it would help, and before you can even offer he rasps another name.
"Hoist." More urgent, staring you down as you catch his knees begin to buckle, anger brewing in exchange as to why you're just standing there and not getting help.
With a brave step forward, you swallow the horror that was wrapped around your throat like a vice and get your point across in one sentence. "Nobody is here, I can call-"
"No time," Casting the undeserved frustration aside, Sunstreaker ultimately collapses to his knees before propping his upper body against the nearest wall. A shaky ex-vent escapes him, helm tilting backward until it hits the metal, words stumbled and partially warbled. "Ever...use a blow torch?"
"What?!" Most definitely not helping, you can't help the exasperation that filters into your reply. It only takes three long seconds to realize he is serious, a softer look in his optics as he looks down your way with stuttering cogs. "No, I most certainly have not!"
"Gonna learn today." He laughs, spits of magenta exuding down his chin at the action.
Even at that sight, you balk at the suggestion, unimpressed by his stupid question. "Sunstreaker, I'll do more damage before I even get close to helping you."
“Either you use a blow torch,” He wheezes. “Or I offline here. Make up your...mind, but do it quickly."
Sunstreaker watches you disappear around the corner without another word, gait hurried yet he can't quite focus, optics shuttering far too frequently. It could have been minutes or hours before you returned, yet he comes to life once more at the clicking noise of the blow torch.
"You better stay awake," You grumble, walking around the pooling energon on the floor. "I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Words m'sure every...patient wants to hear," Sunstreaker grumbles, uncharacteristically pensive.
Nonetheless, he carefully walks you through what was injured and what you needed to bind back together. You are silent the entire time, patiently waiting for instruction after each step was completed. If he trailed off or his words slurred, you would smack at his chassis to bring his attention back to reality. Recharge sounded so good, but if he was being entirely honest with himself anything sounded better than surviving this pain while conscious.
Briefly, it crosses his processor if he's finally asked too much of you, done enough damage to your relationship that its become irreparable. Sunstreaker had come to terms a while ago with the fact that his relationship with you had been in a rough patch for far too long, and he had done nothing to fix it. Perhaps he didn't go out of his way to display that he really did like you and your company, but he was never the best at articulating that vocally.
"You better have Hoist or Ratchet look at this when they get back," You mumble, taking a step rearward to gauge your work. It's somewhat crude and nowhere near professional, but the energon stopped dribbling from the wound and that was enough to satisfy you. It seemingly pleased Sunstreaker as well, evidently, as he released the tension from his frame with a single exhale.
"Thank you." He huffs, concerned that he misses your warm touch to his plating. It was almost comforting, though the feeling was sparse as consciousness slipped through is digits.
"Good enough?" You press, acknowledging his 'thank you' with the simple raise of your brow.
"I'll live." Sunstreaker confirms, looking down your way with a half-lidded exhausted stare.
It's none of your business, but since he was half-lucid you pressed your luck. "What were you doing?"
"I won't subject you to that."
Taking that as your cue to leave him be and try to get him some real help, you pivot off one foot to walk away. Not getting very far, something weakly pinches the fabric of your sweatshirt, wordlessly pleading you to stay.
"Ratchet just comm'd he's on his way back." It's rushed, and even as you try to spin to address him, his slack won't loosen on your sweatshirt. "Stay. Please?"
Sunstreaker makes his own rules, and while most of the time you found yourself toeing, if not crossing his imaginary line, he allowed it. He could make you think that he hated you, and it wouldn't be true, not in the slightest. Surrendering to his vulnerableness was a tremendous feat, but he pushed everything aside and blamed it on his fatigue. Somewhere, somehow, his processor understood that he needed your presence, and was willing to swallow his pride to ask for it.
While still unable to tell if he hated you or not, you could comprehend when someone just didn't want to be alone. You'd like to think the two of you were friends, but if you ever brought it up, he'd scoff and roll his optics, shutting down the idea faster than the hurt it caused arrived. Perhaps it was for show, maybe it wasn't- but you were in no position to deny his request with how simple it was.
"Okay." You nod, moving around to his uninjured side to settle next to him on the floor, knees drawn to your chest. Now tucked beneath his arm, you sit in silence once more, the only sound is his inner systems humming in attempts to get him to cool down.
