(Alright, enough melancholy, here’s a short piece featuring you and Bayverse Jetfire.)

—What are they saying?— Sam wondered to himself as he watched the two newly awakened Cybertronians inside the military base.

Meanwhile, you and Jetfire continued trading insults in a very archaic Cybertronian dialect, the mechanisms of both emitting a faint whir.

• Reaching to fumble for the bowl beside him until he finds an energon goodie, he idly sucks on it as he listens to the human on the screen talk. And he gets rocked slightly when you sit on his other side. Looking up, you’re just staring at him. While smiling softly. The only time he’s seen that look on your face was when another caretaker brought their baby in. Had heard Ironhide gruffly complaining that the humans thought they were all helpless sparklings now and he’d dismissed it. But now? He’s not so sure. “Something on your mind?” He ventures warily.

• Hands in your lap when you really want to drag him to you and press kisses on his helm, your shoulders lift. How offended would he be if you did it? Maybe he wouldn’t care. Or you could pretend it’s some human social custom he’s unfamiliar with. That anything small and cute must be cuddled. Watching him eat the energon goodie, you reach to fiddle with one of his wings, face heating. They’re just so tiny. Like him. And you think you understand why he’d spend nearly ten minutes one day mass displaced and gently pressing against your fingertips with a goofy, little smile on his face.

• “I’m sorry. But you’re really small and cute and there are rules,” you blurt and he startles when you drag him into your lap, one of your soft hands gripping his. Pressing your thumb against his palm as you smile to yourself. Baffled, he watches you toy with his servos like they’re the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. Like he’d done with your hands not too long ago. Wings lifting slightly as you turn his hand over and study it, he can’t really complain even as he’s left flustered. Pressed up against your soft warmth, your chin on top of his head. Should be mortified, but no one’s ever held him like this. It’s warm. Nice.

• Can’t get over his tiny servos. His peds. His wings. Yeah, you’re getting why some of the aliens are so weirdly tactile with their caretakers, because if they find humans half as cute as you find him right now, it’s a wonder they can keep their hands to themselves at all. Had been sure cuteness aggression was made up, but now you’re a believer. Want to play with his wings. Maybe nip one. Hug him until he squirms to get away. Carry him everywhere. And you can, because he’s so small right now.

The day Skyfire died.

The memory unfolded in fragments before becoming painfully clear. The air was thick with smoke, the ground scarred by craters and burning metal, while the sounds of blaster fire echoed across the battlefield. In the middle of the devastation stood Skyfire, towering over everyone around him. At nearly thirty feet tall, the gentle giant looked almost unbreakable—but even he had limits.

Several high-ranking Decepticons had surrounded him, attacking in perfect coordination. Powerful strikes slammed into his armor from every direction, each impact denting his white plating. Bolts of crackling electricity coursed through his frame, forcing violent shudders through every joint and servo. He fought to keep his footing, but there were simply too many opponents for him to overpower alone.

Despite the relentless assault, Skyfire never moved away from the one person he was determined to protect.

You.

The moment you stumbled to the ground, Skyfire threw himself over you without hesitation. His enormous frame curled around then as much as it could, shielding you completely beneath his body. His wings folded inward like a protective shell while his broad arms braced against the shattered earth, taking every blow that had once been meant for you.

Each strike that landed against him reverberated through his massive frame, but he refused to move.

Underneath him, you were trapped in a prison of white armor. You could hear every deafening impact, every groan of straining metal, every burst of electricity racing across his systems. The ground trembled with each hit, dust and shattered debris raining down around them.

You was sobbing uncontrollably.

"No! Skyfire, please!" You cried desperately, pounding weakly against his armor. "Go! Leave me! You have to run! Please!"

You tried to push at him desperately, even though you knew you couldn't move someone so impossibly large.

Skyfire lowered his head just enough for one optic to meet yours through a narrow opening between his arm and chest plating. Even though pain flickered across his face, his expression remained remarkably gentle.

His voice had become strained and distorted, but it still carried the same warmth you had always known.

"It's alright..."

A pause.

"...You're safe."

Another violent surge of electricity coursed through his body, forcing him to tense as cracks spread across sections of his armor.

"You'll...be alright..."

You shook your head violently, tears streaming down your face.

"No! Don't say that! Fight back! Please!"

For just a moment, Skyfire looked at you in silence.

His brilliant blue optics softened.

There was sadness in them...but also acceptance.

Slowly, the vibrant glow behind them began to fade.

The light dimmed little by little until it was only a faint shimmer.

Then...

Nothing.

The systems throughout his body finally failed.

Hairline fractures spread across his armor before larger seams split apart. His massive frame could no longer support itself as it began to come apart piece by piece. Panels, armor plating, wings, and internal components broke free under their own weight, crashing to the ground around you.

From the openings in his faceplate and damaged systems, glowing blue energon spilled freely. It poured from his mouth and leaked from beneath his optics, its brilliant, luminous glow illuminating the darkness around them. The radiant blue liquid dripped onto your clothes, your hands, and your face as you lay frozen beneath him.

It was warm.

Far warmer than you expected.

The glowing energon continued to flow until it pooled beneath his remains.

As more of Skyfire's enormous body collapsed, the debris unintentionally buried you beneath layers of white armor and shattered components. His wings folded over you, broken plating covered every opening, and pieces of his frame created a protective barrier that completely concealed your from the Decepticons.

From the outside, it looked as though only Skyfire's ruined body remained.

None of them noticed the terrified human hidden beneath him.

The battlefield eventually grew quieter as the Decepticons moved on, believing there were no survivors left.

You couldn't move.

You couldn't scream.

You couldn't even cry anymore.

Your body had gone numb.

All you could do was stare.

One final piece slid free from the wreckage.

Skyfire's face.

It landed beside you with a dull metallic thud, coming to rest only inches away. His once-kind expression had become perfectly still, his optics dark and lifeless.

You looked into the empty blue lenses that had always watched over you.

You waited.

You waited for them to light up again.

For him to smile.

For him to tell you everything was going to be alright.

But they never did.

Your shaking hand slowly reached toward his faceplate, fingertips brushing against the cold metal that had once been warm with life.

Reality finally settled over you.

Skyfire was gone.

And beneath the shattered remains of the friend who had given everything to protect you, you lay completely frozen—too frightened to move, too traumatized to understand what had just happened, and utterly alone.

-Goodnight, Skyfire. We hardly knew you-

• Spike releasing against your lower belly, he growls against your mouth. Tries so hard to be soft and gentle with you. To not startle you because he’s afraid at some point you’ll realize you’re both too different. That you’ll want your own kind instead and he’s not sure that he’d let you go if you did. He’s already so lost to you, that he’s not sure he could do the right thing. Not when it comes to you. Lips and glossa stroking against you, tasting you, he reluctantly breaks away so you can breathe. And those warm hands touch his face, his jaw. Trusting yourself completely to his care and he still can’t understand that. Clearing his vents when you squirm your hands down between his body and your own, his hips jerk when you find his spike, stroking him.

• Hear his rumbling deepen as you touch him, his mouth crashes against your jaw and neck, almost bruising as warm air from his vents fans your skin. And he shifts over you, the head of his spike sliding against you, finding you. Before he hesitates. Always does this, second guessing himself. Worrying. “Don’t go. I want this,” you whisper and those blue optics meet your eyes. Back arching when he presses against you, you suck in a breath at the familiar burn of him stretching you, remembering how sore you’d been the first few times. And how miserable he was about it. “Stay with me.” In this moment.

• Hears your voice hitch as he slowly rolls his hips in shallow strokes. You’re always so tight and slick, so soft where you’re fisting his spike. How can he not worry about hurting you? “I’m right here,” he manages, his own voice strained. Letting you adjust to him instead of driving deep and rutting against you. Venting raggedly when you shift under him, little hands gripping his chassis like you’re trying to find some leverage. Making it harder to not just claim you. “Not going anywhere.” Every day it’s harder to not bond you. Fantasizes about it.

Skyfire leans over you, caging your body sprawled on the cushions, spike plunging deep.

One of his servos grasps your hips and belly closer to him, adding extra pressure right over the bulge he makes each time he presses in. His other arm serves as elbow prop to keep from putting all his weight over you, while his servos on that arm hold your chin tipped up, one digit teasing inside your mouth and you're all too compliant in sucking it through your moans.

It's a flimsy balance. Pressure keeps building in his struts with the need to go harder, deeper, to claim you thoroughly as he would another cybertronian. But care sets him back, fear of ever harming such a delicate frame. For more delightfully pliant it may be, he'd never forgive himself for harming you. Even if it's increasingly hard to maintain the line.Especially when those lovely sounds keep beckoning him, your pleading tone laced with arousal.

“yes, don't stop, sky!”

Your voice makes him swell with affection and burn with lust, reflecting in the way his engine whines higher, vents blowing hot and sputtered. Primal groans he's never made before spill out of his intake, you're intoxicating.

His thrusts never falter, maintaining a steady rhythm that carefully increases, shifts to adapt to your changes, the pitch of your voice, the way you shudder and curse at a particularly good angle shift.

“F-fuck, there!”

He's happy to oblige, lowering calculated weight over you, pining your body closer to him, adjusting so his chassis doesn't prod uncomfortably. The change seems to be effective as you lean up to him, an incomprehensible whine escaping your soft lips, and the sound goes right through him.

The new position doesn't affect only you it seems, he can feel you closer as your muscles tense and ripple with each of his thrusts, the soft velvety surface a sensation he can never tire of. He can feel you winding, meeting his thrusts with renewed energy. Close.

"You're doing so good sweetspark, this ok?"

He earns a moan in return, having forgotten his digit still inside your intake. He makes to remove it and you follow it, a gentle bite on the joint sending a pleasant jolt to him. He shivers minutely in turn, the change makes him miscalculate his next thrust, too strong- he realizes a nanoklik too late.

But before he can sputter an apology you're tightening around him with a spasm, the feeling so delightful you loosen your bite with a whine.

"More! please sky, please!"

"Didn't I hurt you?"

"Please!"

He obliges, trusting your judgement, quickening his pace to a fast and deep plunge. Your moans increase exponentially and flood his processor with pleasure.

He's close, must last longer.

But then your tiny arm snakes up to grasp his audial and he loses it.

A staticky groan rips out of his vocalizer along with a full body shudder.

"Frag-!"

Is all he can utter as warning before he feels the overflowing charge and his interface sensors overload, triggering his transfluid tank.

That also overflows, unsurprisingly.

Concern flashes him mid pleasure, the servo supporting your pelvis twitching as he tries to massage the increasing bulge there. The moan you let out in turn is melodic in the most carnal sense.

The delightful pressure around his sputtering spike increases tenfold as you meet your peak, sending new jolts of electric bliss.He's half aware of you still grasping his helm, the cushions, legs stretching with each thrust and trembling in your overload.

Primus forgive him, your valve is divine. The way it ripples around him, pulsing hot as he feels your own fluids join his own, changing the dielectric currents.It triggers a second overload, one which surprises you both as you gasp in unison.

The renewed burst of transfluid is considerably smaller, his tanks not fully replenished. Yet, Skyfire can feel the extra excess drip and spurt out from where you're joined, slipping on his legs and your thoroughly wet valve, aft and thighs.. such an utter mess, he distantly notes.

Though by your moans it seems you're not harmed, at least. He continues massaging your belly and softly thrusting until you both calm down and the only remaining sound is his vents and your breathing. You're laid down carefully into the cushions, no wonder very spent.

He murmurs your name as he spoons your back, nudging your head fibers with his nasal vent, enjoying the soft. Your scent is salted and musky, It brings him an odd feeling of accomplishment and possessiveness. He presses closer and you only acknowledge him with a groan, shifting to nuzzle him back.

"Are you alright?" He asks, voice muffled in your hair.

"Wonderful" a minute shudder punctuates your speech.

He rumbles, content.

“We should get you cleaned up”

He carefully pulls out, feeling the remaining transfluid dripping out. Ignoring that, you immediately roll over and wrap your arms around his neck.

"Stay... please?"

"I'm not leaving, dear” he shifts, half sitting half leaning on an elbow, his optics glow warm.

You shakily try to sit after him but he stops you with a gentle hand to your forearm, in the second it takes you to look up his thumb caresses the skin.

“We'll cuddle after” he reassures with one of his smiles, the ones so full of love you can't resist.

"Definitely" you reply, he leans closer and steals a kiss, leaning away before you can reach him with your arms again.

He unsubspaces his cleaning cloths, already damp with 'organic friendly cleanser' as he'd dubbed it.He waits for your nod before gently dabbing it onto your skin, cleaning the rough excess. A second towel takes care of the remaining, and a third clean one, scented suspiciously like your clothes softener, is the final touch. He proceeds to quickly clean his armor with a single bigger cloth, polishing skipped, before gathering you to him.

"Thank you" you murmur to him, not wasting time in reaching for a kiss.

He keeps it chaste despite your prodding tongue. Upon breaking, he can't help the small nib of your earlobe, the soft skin there alluring to him.You both exchange small kisses and questionably chaste gestures until tiredness and sleep catches up to you. Skyfire gathers your sleeping frame close, now on top of his, and unsubspaces your favorite blanket to drape over you both.