Thundercracker was obsessed with two things—writing, and his dear little dog, Buster, who he adored with practically all his spark.

Oh, and there was maybe one more obsession.

You.

Thundercracker knew it was wrong to like an Autobot, but he just couldn't help it. Besides—doesn't his now 'reformed' life make up for this?

He found himself gazing at you from afar, whenever he could, or just simply trying to talk to you, when each of his attempts failed at doing so. In truth, he really was a little obsessed, and a little red-faced when it came to you.

Hell—even Buster seemed to like you, or what Thundercracker had assumed. She'd snort at the mention of your name and wag her tail—clearly, that was plenty of evidence for him. You had to be the one, right?

Yet the only way to relieve his pent-up feelings for you was to talk to Buster about it, and genuinely.

"Frag it all, Buster,"

Thundercracker musters—and Buster perks her head up at the sound of her own name.

"I'm not in too deep, am I, girl?"

She barks and sits up as he brushes her head with the tip of his finger. He smiles softly, letting her jump up on his servo, bringing the puppy to his face.

"I've gotta talk to them sometime. This is getting ridiculous."

He softly snickers and glimpses out the window in this almost small, cramped office.

Oh, how he wishes.