#sunstreaker headcanons

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.” 

“Are we almost back to the main road?” you have to elevate your voice a bit, words almost drowned out by the heavy rain. 

he had tried offering a while ago to carry you back up to the highway, unable to use his alt-mode due to the flooded terrain. the first time he asked, you had appeared tempted to take him up on his offer, but retreated, saying you were fine to make the three and a half mile walk on your own. 

Sunstreaker, never one to let something so trivial pass him by, stood firm and even insisted that he do so. you had squeaked and hastily shook your head, taking four steps backward to match his one forward. he couldn’t understand what was different this time, as you never usually had qualms when it came to him holding you, but your persistence on the subject won that round if only to get a start on the journey back. 

he had tried to request a ground bridge every half mile or so, but his commlink was either jammed or out of range. it was more for your sake than his, knowing this was far from any weather you should be ambling around in. if you get sick, it’s his fault, something he likely couldn’t handle on top of all this going to hell so fast. 

even as he tries to stifle it, a flare of irritation takes hold of him at the situation and your downhearted state. this was supposed to be fun, some much desired alone time with you, and all that's occurred is an array of misfortune that can only be described as vapid. 

“I think so,” he rumbles, pushing onward with a slightly slower stride, if only to allow you to catch up some. “Y’alright back there?”

“Good as I can be.” you call back, pushing some hair out of your eyes. with some hesitation, you quietly add: “You aren’t going to let me into your cabin like this, are you?” 

Sunstreaker stops all together, turning around with an unamused look on his face. while spoken very softly, he still picked up on your hushed words. “Of course I am. The hell kinda question is that?”

“Look at me, Sunstreaker.” you deadpan, gesturing to your state. “You hate things getting dirty. I am fucking disgusting right now.” 

slowly, your defiance begins to make sense. “Oh. Is that why you wouldn’t let me touch you?” 

he finds he is correct at the way you scoff, and look away from him, unable to meet his optics. a tell-tale sign you were lying. “No. Maybe.” 

“You’re so annoying.” 

he evidently gets the rise out of you that he was searching for, a small smirk on his face as you gasp, head titling back to meet his gaze once more. “I don’t want to hear it. We both need a shower and I need some clean clothes.”

you had originally meant it offhandedly, never anticipating he would be compliant to such a suggestion. of course, you would never turn down the proposition if extended to you, but the joke was meant to die in the air and never have more than a second thought. he was likely so exasperated by the situation, the insinuation simply flew right over his head, focused solely on making it back to the road without further problems.  

however, at the word ‘shower’, Sunstreaker perks up considerably. he hadn’t even thought of that, knowing that even if he tried to clean up when he got back to base, nothing he did would be able to get him absolutely dirt-free. you are much more meticulous, careful and observant. 

the idea consumes him, and he isn’t so sure how to articulate it. mostly on autopilot, he drops to a knee, wincing minutely as his plating makes direct contact with the saturated ground. you, sensing he was closer, turn around to find he’s looking down at you, yourself vastly confused. 

“What are you-?”

at your squirm of surprise, Sunstreaker ex-vents in indignation, digits carefully circling your form before gently lifting you into the air. in turn, you gasp, fingers fighting for grip against his slippery servos.

“Sunstreaker!” you squeak, but it’s lost to the pounding rain. 

“Quicker we get home, quicker we can do that.” he huffs, cradling you to his chassis before moving to stand at his full height. “Stop moving or I’ll drop you.”

blinking owlishly, you look up to try and find what the hell he was talking about, but come up empty as he continues onward. “Do what, exactly?”

…

with utmost focus, Sunstreaker observes the way you use the toe of one muddied sneaker to peel off the opposite shoe, shrugging your raincoat from your shoulders simultaneously. everything is conscientious, in a way he assumes is to track as little mud as possible through your house. 

standing behind you, already mass-displaced, he stiffens as you slide your jeans downward, letting them pool at your ankles gracefully. straightaway, he feels a strong sense of responsibility for the situation, and struggles to win a losing battle of not staring at you. 

“Bathroom is the second door on the right,” you nod towards the interior door, hand on the knob before turning to address him. “I’m gonna go get some towels and clean clothes.”

he nods twice, unsure of what else to say as you finally open the door, leaving him in the doorway with the same glimpse of the inside of your home he’s seen from being parked in your garage. it’s the edge of the kitchen and then some of the hallway, curiosity always found him when it came to catching the recurring sight. 

with some hesitance, he follows you inside, he still feels clunky and ungraceful, even mass displaced. still much taller than you, he stoops through the doorway and stands stupidly in your kitchen, watching you enter a room on the other side of the kitchenette. 

briefly, he casts a glance over his shoulder, noticing the second door on the right you had mentioned he was supposed to head towards. Sunstreaker had wished to follow your instructions, but is evidently so lost in thought that he doesn’t hear you return with an armful of towels and a fresh set of clothes. 

“C’mon,” you offer gently, not teasing him for his rigidity as he assumed you would. hugging your items close to your chest, you free one hand and grab ahold of one of his, beginning towards the bathroom.

Sunstreaker lets you tug him along, enamored with the way your small hand feels around his. 

a quiet Sunstreaker is a stranger, unsure as to why he suddenly was so reserved all of the sudden. he’s watching you, intently at that, patter around the cramped room and begin running the water for a warm shower. 

part of him thinks he should ask if there’s anything he can do to help, but the words die on his tongue as you begin to strip, peeling the rest of your clothes away from your somewhat shivering form. he feels like a fucking creep, undeserving to witness such a beautiful sight in front of him. 

“What?” you ask, more out of concern than vexation. a twinge of self-consciousness seizes you, still holding your damp shirt to your front as if it would conceal something. 

Sunstreaker has seen you naked before, but something about this intimate setting and his behavior was leaving you uneasy, embarrassed even. 

“I didn’t say anything.” he mumbles, struggling to suppress the itch of his cooling fans kicking on. 

cocking your head to the side, you wrinkle your nose in confusion. “Yeah, but you have that look.” 

bravery finds him somewhere in between that exchange, taking a three steps forward that invades your personal space, back up against the shower curtain and nowhere to run. unashamed, his optics rove over your body, digits furling around the shirt in your grasp and throwing it somewhere behind him. the only sound alongside the wet thud your shirt makes when it hits the floor is your uneven breathing, a tremble to your body that you don’t know is the cold or something else. 

once more, Sunstreaker picks you up, ducking somewhat to gather your upper legs in his big hands, hiking you upward so your hands have no other place to go than interlocking around his neck. 

“You’re awfully nice today.” you hum, trying to cross your ankles at his back but find that you’re unable to. “I wonder why.” 

“Shut up.” sticking his face into the crook of your neck, his lips ghost over your exposed skin in a ticklish manner. “M’always nice.”

he wouldn’t lie, the warm water felt marvelous as it erased most of the surface-level dirt that coated his plating. you had begun wiping his face and shoulders with a washcloth, the only way for the both of you to occupy the shower simultaneously was for Sunstreaker to remain holding you. 

not that either of you were complaining, his touch felt just as nice as the soapy water did. 

“This is kinda fun,” you laugh, reaching above him to grab the showerhead off the wall. he watches your every move, a miniscule smile adhered to his grumpy expression as well, but a more playful manner finds him sooner than he anticipated. 

“Your turn,” Sunstreaker hums, and in turn, you return a furrowed brow. 

not allowing you to ask, he maneuvers so now you’re held up by one of his servos, cradled to his side as his now free hand is able to placidly wedge the showerhead from your hold. you gasp, surprised once more, as the water pours over you and begins freeing the mud that had been stuck to your skin. 

it’s no longer funny when your hand skates over his chin, coaxing him to face you. he concedes, immediately, answering your wordless query with a curt nod of approval, to which you capture his lips against yours without another moment of doubt. 

the showerhead clatters to the floor, spraying water all along the wall and the shower curtain, but you can’t be bothered to care as his unoccupied hand tangles into your hair. Sunstreaker is greedy but composed, holding you close before he changes positions once more. 

“Sorry.” he murmurs, tugging back when he realizes you need to come up for air. 

pulling away to allow you some shaky breaths, you’re now pinned to the tiled wall as one large servo engulfs your cheek, a knee now wedged between your legs as if to hold you there for support. inconsistent splashes of water lap at his ankles, dirty water pooling the drain, but all Sunstreaker can focus on is how beautiful you look. 

your tiny fingers settle on either side of his face, kissing his cupid's bow about four times before returning squarely on his lips. everything about you is so soft, from your kisses to your benign touches. 

if anything satiates the growing worry about you becoming sick, Sunstreaker is delighted to find you are no longer trembling. so lost in thought, he jolts when your hand slides down to his neck, fingers dancing over the cables there. 

he was unsure if you knew how sensitive they were, but nothing was helping the situation on either end. he briefly wonders if you know the effect you have on him, able to reduce him to a muddled mess with just about anything you do. 

“A little better than a car wash?” you mumble, thumb swiping just below his optic. 

Sunstreaker steals two more kisses from you before relenting, bending down some to pick up the discarded showerhead. “A little, yeah.” 

your feet never touch the shower floor, allowing the yellow mech to clean you up to the best of his ability. his touch is cool, colder than one would assume, but gentle as he roams over your body, trying to wipe away the lingering remnants of dirt. 

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'.

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-"

"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.

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.

engine revving, he goes to take off in search of something to kill time for the next eight hours, but his wheels never move. gingerly, his rearview mirror tilts, catching the small metal object laying on the passenger seat. Sunstreaker has no idea what the device is, but he can count several times he’s caught you toying with it on drives home, only to shove it back into your pocket. 

curiously, his gaze moves from the leather seat back to the door. 

you hadn’t been behind the bar for more than five minutes when someone asked for a beer, your fingers immediately sliding into your front pocket to grab your wine key, only to find it empty. brow furrowed, you move down the bar to steal a co-workers, if only to get this beer open for the customer right in front of you. 

after cashing him out, your hands slide over your pants, realizing that your bottle opener was not on your person, something that would prove immensely annoying on a Friday night shift. 

“Forget something?”

prompted, you halt your frustrated pat down of your pockets, turning toward the new voice at your left. 

a laugh bubbles in your throat first, but know better than to release it. Sunstreaker’s holoform was not someone you were well acquainted with, only having witnessed such a treat a handful of times. he doesn’t appear all that pleased, your wine key somewhat lost in his hand, but still, he offers it to you. 

“Sunny,” you breathe, either in relief or adoration, the line remains hazy. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you so much” 

he grumbles a reply when your hand slips into his, retrieving the object from his palm. “It must’ve fallen out of your pocket. It was on your seat.” 

your seat. 

his description of the spot makes your heart skip a beat, but are forced to shelve such a sentiment for later. bringing it up now, especially in public, would not be doing yourself any favors for tonight, as he already was irritated you picked up this shift in the first place. 

“I appreciate you bringing it in.” reluctantly, your fingers fall away from his, if only to avoid the nosey stares from your co-workers. “I owe you one.” 

“How about we leave, and do something else instead.” Sunstreaker looms over the bar, to which you roll your eyes and move to begin counting inventory. “I’m serious, y/n.” 

“What, are you going to sit there all night and pout if I say no?” you return, turning your back on him to see what stock you needed. to some mild horror, upon looking back over your shoulder, Sunstreaker has taken residency on one of the many stools at your front.

“You aren’t serious, Sunny.” 

at your plea, your co-worker slides down your way, all to forward for your liking. “Hi. That’s your boyfriend's ride?”

both yourself and Sunstreaker turn to where they’re pointing, just out the front window to find the yellow lamborghini backed into one of the spots, facing the restaurant. 

“Yes.” Sunstreaker rumbles proudly.

simultaneously, you respond with an annoyed groan. “No.”

is that what organics referred to their partners, boyfriend? all to much having his ego stroked, he was unable to help the small smile that adhered to his holo-form. Sunstreaker liked that title, and admired it even more when someone else referred to you and him as such. 

shuffling away from the other bartender, you try to scrounge some patience to ask in the nicest way possible. “Sunny, can you please go?”

to your dismay, he confirmed the answer you knew he was going to provide. “No. I think I’ll stay.”

Sunstreaker was foolish to ever disregard or question your skill, indifferent to your explanation when you had tried to explain that mixing drinks was similar, but vastly unconnected between your species. watching you bartend was entrancing, and every so often you’d blow him a kiss over your shoulder, seemingly gotten over the fact that he decided to hang around your station. 

your co-worker kept bouncing their gaze between him and the car outside, obviously distracted by his presence, attempting to figure him out, he assumes. Sunstreaker’s evidently permanent scowl likely didn’t help the equation, as how could someone as friendly as you find affection for him. 

he is well aware of your polar opposite personalities, and has heavily dwelled on such an observation before. even the way you chat with who he assumes are total strangers, a gentle twinkle in your eyes as you multitask. you’re a wonder to watch. 

“I pour liquor.” you’d softly laughed at his ogling, catching the way he fumbles with a coaster that had been discarded on the bar. “There’s nothing spectacular about that.” 

Sunstreaker wishes to praise you, the sentiment sits in his mouth, but it never escapes. the effortlessness that you possess is entrancing, and that is not strictly adhered to your occupation. you are so jovial, as if blessed with a never yielding patience for his irksome personality at times. he’s definitely made strides to better behave himself, but surveying you so naturally in your element has him questioning your rationale for putting up with him.