#and he has to interact with prowl

[mistermalaprop]

*beaming angsty IDW Fortress Maximus and Energon Prowl interactions into your mind*

[peachypiichi]

For some reason, Poppy just could never get along with Isaw so she gave up trying to win his affections. Betamax, on the other hand, endured Poppy's endless barrage of smooches.

[pyrotechnicdarts]

ive just had a revelation give me a day to gather some screenshots ill make the best rodimus + prowl + getaway meta post ever. dont hold me to that though

[imaginedisish]

I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him. 

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction. 

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett. 

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him. 

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands. 

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more. 

God, you are so fucked. 

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed. 

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you. 

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room. 

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean. 

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag. 

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack. 

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to. 

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip. 

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now. 

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself. 

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt. 

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open. 

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now. 

 He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you. 

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means. 

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself. 

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.” 

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in. 

“It’s more than that,” you admit. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence. 

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out. 

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.  

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours. 

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him. 

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.” 

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.” 

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head. 

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly. 

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say. 

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side. 

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.” 

“Fuck me, please.”  

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.” 

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you. 

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine. 

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again. 

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for. 

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out. 

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak. 

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge. 

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers. 

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?” 

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue. 

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter. 

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest. 

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles. 

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire. 

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses. 

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster. 

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.” 

Always. 

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you. 

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too. 

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted. 

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.” 

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter. 

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up. 

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them. 

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then. 

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing. 

“I meant it, too.” 

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

[classjezter]

Hello! How about some cute hcs of baby Optimus? 👀 in general or about his interactions with the other bots

Hi! Here’s how he interacts with other bots (which I may draw in the future)

Op doesn’t have any of his adult memories, but he does instinctively recognize other bots

B-127 is his favorite (as usual) to the point that the first word he said that wasn’t a beep was “B”, he gets super excited to see him and hang out with him

More after cut 🔽

He looks up to Elita and and often copies what she does, he also always listens to her, and doesn’t run away from her or get into trouble like he does with the others sometimes

Ratchet often fusses checks on Optimus to make sure he’s alright, OP usually thinks it’s a game and he goes along with it happily. Ratchet won’t admit it but he is wrapped around Optimus’ tint finger, often gives him treats and let’s him get away with a lot

Op likes when Wheeljack takes care of him because he gives him toys WJ has built (previously approved by Ratchet or Elita ofc). Optimus also enjoys just looking at WJ talking, specifically likes watching his head fins blinking

Jazz is like the fun uncle, always playing games and making OP laugh, Optimus favorite game is hide and seek unfortunately, so whenever he gets the opportunity he likes running away, Jazz has had to catch him so many times…

Prowl was really awkward with Optimus at first, he had no idea how to even hold a sparkling or what to even do with one. Eventually his cuteness won him over, and he became more comfortable babysitting, now he often reads to OP or does generally calming activities, so much so he became OP’s favorite napping spot

Ironhide is surprisingly a natural with sparklings, so he is very good at babysitting, the others sometimes ask him for help with OP whenever needed

[yuu-id24]

Prowl and the constructicons

So I read about the constructicons being the JP ship captains, so yeah I had to write about it, and how they interact with Prowl.

------

The Constructicons would be the engineering team behind Prowl's mech repairs. Since they are a bit brute, the rest of the scientists and engineers would think they are stupid and receive no recognition. However, Prowl is aware that it is them who fix his mech, and he’d be kind to them, like saying thank you for their work, etc. They also start having Prowl sleep in the same room as them so Tarantulas can't get at him during the night when he has a crazy theory to try. 

After this, the Constructicons would follow Prowl around all the time, ensuring he has all of his needs covered. They are also the ones ready to tear Jazz apart if he does anything harmful to Prowl, just for them to realize that they are in love and are starting to fangirl over their relationship. They are also the founders of the Prowl Appreciation Club and the JP Shipper Club; they have T-shirts and all. THEY CANNOT BE STOPPED!.

[smallestapplin]

Unhinged idea but the reverse harem autobot series has activated every single neuron in my brain

Imagine if the human was in a harem with the decepticons instead and the autobots want to save them, fearing you were being forced into the decepticon’s love (and totally denying the fact that seeing you naked on camera got their spikes painfully hard)

Giving you free reign other than that because my brain is full of the idea and empty as well AUDJSKDJDJDHF

Keep up the good work man, love your transformer fics !! :3 /pos

-Fae (if that isn’t already taken ofc)

I so need to write more of these

Warnings : GN!Reader, cybertronian language is used as it's mainly from their POV, exhibitionism, noncon voyeurism, noncon recording

Minors do NOT interact! 18+ only

-

-

-

You were spotted by pure accident, in fact it was truly a miricale in the first place anyone outside of the decepticons had seen you, but it was Jazz who raised the alarm that the cons had kidnapped a human that left the autobots fuel lines freezing up.

Out on a casual drive Jazz had spotted Knockout not too far away, the con in a line up ready to street race it seemed, but something was different.

And that something was the cute human sitting in the driver's seat. He managed to radio Prowl, swiftly telling him the situation, but by the time the cop bot arrived you and the con were gone. Which left them arguing the whole way back to base.

informing the others was a whole different matter.

"Why didn't you stop him!?" Ironhide shouts, followed by Prowl agreeing with him.

So much yelling and for what?

"Alright that's enough! Jazz, you did the right thing, you could have put the human's life in danger interfering alone."

"But, Prime-"

"No, Ironhide, we need to save that human frm their clutches, but we can't do that if they are harmed or killed in the crossfires or because Megatron doesn't want to let his 'prize' go."

Ironhide growls under his breathe, angry that Prime is right, even if it means someone innocent is in the decepticons grasp. Your safety is their biggest concern, who knows what the cons are putting you through or even doing to you! Them rushing in head frsit will just put you, and subsequently them, in more danger.

They need to get on that ship and survey the area and situation, then they can go about the safest way of getting you out of there with little damage. Maybe thats how Mirage ended up on the Nemsis, invisible to the decepticons that he was careful to walk around as to not alert them.

He has a live feed right to base, so they can see everything he sees while he looks around, sneaking into room after room, peering in and looking for the little human. After the fifth room he forgets it and walks down the hallway, being sure to move out of the way for any con on patrol.

"This is pointless, if we storm them and take them by surprise we'd get that human out for sure!"

Optimus shakes his head, "Not nessecarily, if we do then one of the cons could grab the human a flee."

Bee huffs, though its a mask to hide the worry he feels watching the footage of Mirage walking through the hallways of the enemies ship, listening to their conversations of Knockout and Breakdown

"Seems lord Megatron isn't too happy."

"Yeah, I wonder whos fault that is."

"Our sweetspark wanted out to walk around, how is that my fault!?"

Our?

Sweetspark?

Optimus doesn't take his optics off the screen, even as the whispers and worried words fill the air behind him.

"Did they take a human for themselves?"

"Oh primus, they are using them as a stress toy! That poor person is probably being tortured!" Bumblebee screeches.

Prowl and Ironhide glare at the screen, muttering under theirs breathes, wanting to beat those decepticons helms in.

Ratchet keeps his optics on the screen, scowl on his face, though he can't lie about the worry eating at his spark. Are you okay? He doesn't know enough about human's fragile bodies, so could he ensure you lived long enough to get to a medic who knew what they were doing?

The room quickly falls silent as a sound grows louder and louder. Heads turn back to the screen, watching as Mirage follows quickly behind shockwave, thankfully still undetected, but the sight that greets them leaves their intakes dropped open.

Megatron, with a servo around you, thrusting his spike as deep as he could make it go.

You're sobbing, overloading, begging for him to slow down.

"Aren't you being a bit rough with them? Surely, humans are too squishy for such treatment." Shockwave spoke, merely walking towards where he left his data pad, as if this was completely normal.

"They like it. Isn't that right, pet?" Megatron grinds his spike into you, smirking as you cry out.

"Yes! Yes! M'sorry I should've asked-fuck! Megatron, please...!" You throw your head back, sobbing as it appears you've overloaded again.

Megatron vents, but his smirk never falters.

"So cute like this, taking my spike like you were meant to."

"I told you humans needed more enrichment, they would not have left with Knockout had you given them things to do while we are all busy."

Megatron's face plate twists into a scowl "Silence, Shockwave, as leader they are my Conjunx Endura first, the rest of the ship is just their...consorts."

Mirage is frozen in his spot, unable to look away from you taking such a massive spike in your little valve, and the other autobots are much the same.

So this is how they are using you? But what Megatron said, they couldn't possibly courted a human, they hate humans! Unless its...no, they'd never go that far, would they?

Hot Rod glances around the room, hoping to not be the only one finding the scene before them hot, but he can't read them.

Maybe it's just him, but seeing your soft body mold to the shape of the spike fragging you so good gets his engines purring.

He shouldn't, this is wrong on so many levels and a complete invasion of privacy. But to see your valve overflowing with transfluid like this, it gets him going.

You whimper, your optics look glazed over as you barely manage to look up at Megatron, who can't help but coo at you.

"Have you learned your lesson, dear?"

You fall limp once more in his hold, though you nearly cry once he pulls you off his spike, letting the transfluid pumped into you drop out.

"I did...I'll ask you next time, I promise."

Megatron chuckles, tenderly rubbing his thumb across your cheek, looking at you in such a loving way.

"Good. Now, I have things to attend to, but since you need so much attention, I'm sure Soundwave wouldn't mind keep you occupied."

The blue mech stands up straighter, moving away from his work station and swiftly goes right passed an unamused Shockwave.

Your gaze meets his red visor, which seems to glow. His servos shaking slightly as he takes you from Megatron, uncaring for his leader and Shockwave to make their exit, leaving him with you.

Mirage, despite his illusion feels as though he's exposed, perhaps now is his chance to leave-

Soundwave doesn't get long with you before Starscream barges in, loudly demanding his Conjunx Endura though Soundwave is not amused.

Just when he was getting his alone time too.

Optimus can't take this anymore, comming Mirage to get out of there now.

"Skyfire, go to the Nemesis and get Mirage."

The large mech jumps at his name being called, his face plate bright blue as he squeaks out a 'ok' and rushes out.

Ironhide is beyond appalled, how could those cons do that to you!? But...oh, oh Primus he wants to hold you down and let you take his spike.

The shared thought among the autobots was 'does their valve feel that good the decepticons are willing to share them?'

But oh they want to find out.

Their spikes are pressing against their modest plating, watching such a moment like that was too much for them-

"W-wait I'm-ohhh...fuck!" You squeal, body shaking from your used hole being filled again.

The room is filled with the sound of all their heads snapping to the screen, Mirage didn't seem to have moved, unable to look away or even turn the camera off.

Faintly they can hear Starscream arguing with Soundwave (though it's one sided) as Soundwave gently works his spike into your used valve.

"How dare you, it should be my turn to use their valve!"

"They were given to me, so silence." Soundwave doesn't entertain more of Starscream, focusing on you and pleasuring you.

The doors open once more, giving Mirage time to slide out unnoticed, but just enough to see Breakdown, Thundercracker, Skywarp, and the constructions following suit before the doors close.

Just how many spikes were you taking?

Just how many times a day?

"I uh, I need to go drive- Right, patrol!" Hot Rod and Bee jump up, rushing out of the room in seperate directions.

"Prime?"

Prowl looks to his leader as the larger bot holds his helm in his servos.

Optimus can't face him, he can't face anyone! Why did he like that so much? He should be ashamed, disgusted, but oh Primus above you were quite the addicting sight.

He needs you.

Frag, he shouldn't be thinking like that.

"Optimus, what is our game plan."

Jazz's stern voice cuts through his thoughts.

"I won't be easy, but we need to tread carefully."

Surely it shouldn't be too hard to obtain you, right? It's for your safety after all.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hey can you do a reader oneshot where the player ended up become heavily emaciated from enduring starvation for so long to collapsing in the cave where Doey found them and take them to the Safe Haven where they interact with the Toys( and getting some food to be fed )? Something dark yet ended up getting a good ending

You, the ex-employee, have spent days or perhaps weeks starving, a shell of your former self. Your body, once strong and capable, is now reduced to little more than skin and bones. The hunger gnaws at you from within, twisting your thoughts into a blur of desperation. The world around you feels distant, as though your senses are failing, and every step you take becomes more of a struggle. 

time seemed to pass so differently where the light reached nowhere, you left it awhile ago. falling into the cold and cadaverous crypts, you could truly feel the full force of the torment that went on for the experiments here.

"sonuva-" You curse, taking another ragged step. the shortness of your breath was not left unnoticed by you yourself, it felt as if you were a shot-down tail-spun plane. there was no love here, not for you. you shake your head, trying to vy for some unforgotten strength you didn't muster just yet.

however, it seemed that wasn't the case.

unfortunately.

Collapsing into the cold, damp embrace of a forgotten cave within the Playtime Co. facility, your body gives way to exhaustion. You lie there, barely conscious, drifting between the waking world and the comforting darkness of unconsciousness. The hunger, the cold, the pain—each one seems like an insurmountable force in itself, but you no longer have the strength to fight.

the human body could be and has been impressive, proven in many cases. able to take on pain like nothing else or just even react faster and quicker then the average species of planet earth.

though, your body was nothing short of that. it was just that, average as anything else. in fact, it was already impressive enough that you managed to muster the energy to continue going on after the sudden self-imposed train crash after you had incidentally freed poppy. something you began to regret doing.

back then, you had repeatedly questioned poppy. to which she had only said a few decent answers, pick and choose you suppose. some seemed to hit home deeply, leaving her to deflect those specific ones. however, it's not as if you had a choice in the matter anyway. having no where else to go but----forward.

forward.

how ironic.

even if you had dearly wished for the children of playtime, each and every victim to have justice for their strife. you just couldn't keep going, you were just a human. only a human, against all those wrapped in monster-skins and facades.

you let out a sigh, wondering what you have done in your life; or any past lives for that matter as you cast an agonizingly long glance despite the pain, at the cold and desolate corners and hallways. the lights that flicker, and the shadows that the monsters prowl from within. you just wished something, or someone had ended you already.

people lost lives to this damned facility, what's one more?

It is there, in the deepest shadows of your despair, that Doey finds you. The plump, clay-like creature, bright and colorful in contrast to the gloom, seems to appear from nowhere. His long, playful limbs extend towards you, lifting you carefully from the ground as if you're nothing more than a fragile doll. Despite his cheery appearance, there is a certain understanding in his movement—a deep empathy that shines through the usual cheerfulness. Doey knows the pain of being lost, of enduring torment. 

you let out a low groan as the strange toy had jostled you to a safe position within his arms, or something on his body, you couldn't tell.

"Why?" is all you ask your savior.

though he didn't respond---that was something you had often asked of anyone and everything, in the factory of Playtime, that was all you seemed to ask. Especially since that very question circulated with finally finding out the bigger bodies initiative had existed, you weren't a higher up, no way; so you had no knowledge of such a thing.

not up until now.

The faint hum of the factory’s empty halls echoed through the long-abandoned Playcare dome. Dust and neglect had taken hold of the once-vibrant space, but none of this phased you now. your hand clutched the tape you had found hidden deep in a forgotten cabinet. It wasn’t the regular assortment of old company VHS tapes. No, this one was different. Something about the way it was buried, shoved aside, felt off. 

you slipped it into the player, fingers trembling. The grainy images flickered to life on the screen, an old commercial featuring Poppy, the doll that haunted you in your nightmares. But as you watched, you realized that something was wrong. This wasn’t just a commercial. The footage had been tampered with, and a series of frantic scribbles beneath the screen flashed warnings—"The bigger bodies initiative... They've been watching... they're still here..."

The tape abruptly cut off, and you stood frozen, mind racing. The implications were horrifying. The factory had always been a place of mystery, but this? This was worse. This wasn’t just about the toys. They had known about them—about you. And what had happened to the others? The missing employees? They weren’t just gone. They were still here. The realization was a bitter pill lodged in your throat, one you couldn’t swallow.

you growled, low and guttural, as anger boiled in your veins. The truth was out. And they had been hiding it from you and everyone else at the time. The bigger bodies—what were they doing here? Why weren’t you told? your thoughts spiraled, the once-seemingly innocent world of Playcare now twisted by the weight of this new knowledge.

The factory—your former place of employment—had become a prison of shadows and manipulation, its walls now hiding dark secrets beneath every creaking floorboard. you couldn't shake the feeling that it had always been like this. The sinister undercurrent had always been there, but you had never been able to see it until now.

you could feel the fury building in your chest, breaths coming quicker and quicker as you paced back and forth in the empty hall. The VHS tape had given you more than answers—it had opened a door you weren't prepared for, but now you couldn’t just walk away from it. No, there was no turning back now. 

your mind raced with the consequences of this discovery. There had been whispers among the employees, hushed voices passing around rumors of experiments, of something far more sinister happening in the darkest corners of Playcare. But you never took them seriously. you thought they were just scared, or paranoid. 

But now… now you saw it all for what it really was.

you gripped the worn edges of the tape, squeezing it so hard your knuckles turned white. your body tensed, ready to take action. This wasn’t a place to get scared. No, this was the moment for revenge. The factory had betrayed them—you—and it was time to find out who was behind this horrific "bigger bodies initiative." Whoever they were, whatever they were planning, you were going to stop them.

you headed for the deepest part of the factory, the place where the truth always seemed to lurk, hidden beneath layers of deception. The bigger bodies—they would pay for what they had done. 

And you would make sure no one ever came back here again.

You don’t know how long you’ve been out of it, but when you open your eyes again, you're in a place far brighter, warmer. A safe haven. The walls are decorated with worn-out toys that had long sought refuge, old but somehow still exuding life. You feel a strange sense of comfort in this room, where light and color seem to welcome you rather than mock your exhaustion. Doey, ever kind and patient, places a small meal in front of you. It's simple, but it's enough. The warmth of food, the comforting presence of someone who cares, stirs something deep within you—a feeling you thought had long since withered away. 

"thank... you" you rasped, barely managing the words you so wished to say.

Doey nods, as if he was conflicted for a moment, but then returns your sentiment with a gentle smile; "don't worry, you just rest up. we'll talk later." He pauses for a moment, almost trying to think of something else to say. Maybe words of comfort.

but he doesn't, and instead says, "okay?"

you nod simply, leaving your mind to wonder about your allies poppy and kissy missy.

As you eat, the toys around you, though broken and tired, offer their own forms of solace. Some of them play quietly nearby, others rest, and a few approach to offer small gifts or gestures of comfort. Among them, Doey's eyes—those holes where his face should be—soften, as if trying to reassure you without words. You are no longer alone. 

For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight of starvation, fear, and loss lifts. You don’t know what the future holds, but in this moment, you are safe. The darkness that once seemed suffocating begins to lift, and you realize, for the first time in a long while, that maybe—just maybe—there is still hope. The twisted factory and its horrors are far from over, but in this small corner of the world, you have found a sliver of peace.

Doey, ever the protector, watches over you as you rest, and though the path ahead may be fraught with danger and uncertainty, you are no longer alone. You have found the strength to carry on, even if just for another day. And in that, there is hope.

[sukunasweetheart]

beneath snowfall, we meet and part ways.

sukuna x reader, canon compliant, mild fluff and angst. a prequel to uraume's epilogue.

the forest is a haven of pure white.

your feet sink into the floor with each step, making the journey home a more difficult one. cheeks feeling frozen and achy, you wish to make a little stop to thaw your face out in some heat, but you are almost home, and it seems like a waste of time to build a fire so close to the end of your travel.

your head feels heavy. halting momentarily, you take your kasa hat off, and brush away the built-up snow from it, before putting it back on. the cold has now permeated into your fingertips, making them icy and stiff - you bring them up to your face to blow some warm air on them, to alleviate some of the numbness.

being so preoccupied with warming your hands, you are completely ignorant to the predator that is prowling behind you, ready to pounce and sink it's teeth into your neck.

when you finally turn around at the sound of snow crunching beneath a heavy weight, the wild bear is already charging at you in full speed.

the shock and fear has planted your feet deeply into the snow - you cannot run, or muster the strength to even try. but before it could tear through your soft and warm flesh and lap up your blood, it suddenly stops in its tracks, and collapses into the floor at it's feet. deep crimson trickles into the pure white snow, dying it red.

you're huffing from your anxiety and as the adrenaline leaves your body, you lose strength in your legs and fall backwards, onto your behind, palms sinking into the ground.

a third figure approaches the scene. he is almost the same size as the bear, and appears half naked, with only a black haori draped over his shoulders. how bold, in this weather...

he ignores your presence entirely, and is only inspecting his newly hunted fresh meat. you fall to your knees and say your gratitude, from having your life saved. there's little to no response, as the man is seemingly only interested in the bear.

you slowly stand up and your gaze falls to his bare feet in the snow.

"kind stranger... are your feet not cold in this snow?" you ask innocently. "i'm only a self-taught tailor, but i could make you some simple sandals and clothes just to-"

"unnecessary. piss off."

he uses a tone that's as cold as the air around you.

the nameless man hoists the bear into his shoulder, as if it weighs nothing, and carries it away like a sack of rice. you watch as he disappears into the distance, only leaving behind deep footprints into the snow.

roughly a week has passed since his first interaction with you.

this forest is where he frequents to hunt for wild animals, and so it was inevitable for him to also run into you again, since you use this same path to get to and from town twice a week to trade goods.

when he spots you again, you are foolishly trying to grasp his attention from a distance away, jumping and waving your hand around, almost like you want to attract, or scare, every possible wildlife animal to your location. sukuna ignores you, and walks away to try his luck in a different patch of the forest. but you catch up from behind.

he narrows his eyes. what an annoying pest. perhaps he shall have you as his dinner tonight?

his hand is itching to cleave you, but when you stop in front of his path, you are holding up a neatly folded kimono and a pair of large sandals on top of it.

"it may be imperfect... i worked with only what i saw of your size on that day. but please, take them and use them as you see fit."

the straw sandals look as though they're seamlessly woven. you're standing there, sweating, hoping he takes the items, wondering if he will be displeased if you grab his hand and make him take it. he hasn't spoken to you once since you called over to him. and yet again with silence, you watch as he holds your offerings with one of his four hands.

your anxiety turns into relief, and you're smiling tenderly. after a deep bow, you walk away to return home.

once you are gone, sukuna finds a branch to hang his haori onto briefly, to try on the items. they both fit perfectly, eerily so. you made this after only eyeing and estimating his size, hm? the tiniest smile is on his face as he continues his hunt, in the remainder of the afternoon.

he seems to run into you at least once every two weeks. overjoyed to see him wearing your gifts, you always bow as he walks past you. he pays you no mind.

but for the most part, he tends to clear out the wild animals closest to your area.

in a few weeks' time, he notices his sandals are getting worn out, which makes him click his tongue in annoyance.

the next time you see him, the man approaches you on his own accord, and holds up his sandals that are now full of holes. it should have lasted a bit longer, but the battle that he fought last week left them a little more damaged than he would've liked.

"oi. these are getting unusable. do something about it," he tells you, bluntly.

"... it would be my pleasure," you respond, taking the old sandals from him. you can use them as reference to replicate the exact same size.

the following week, you see him once again, and he receives a brand new pair. there is a look of satisfaction on his face.

such a routine continues, for the remainder of the year.

seasons pass. oddly, he hasn't seen you in some time. and the next time he does, it just so happens to be a snowy winter's day, once again.

you have a larger amount of luggage than usual, on your back. when you see him, your eyes light up and a small gasp escapes your lips as if you're glad to see him.

"sir!" you wave, walking close towards him. "it's always pleasant to see you. there's something i must give you."

you take your luggage off your back and start fishing for something.

sukuna stands with one pair of his arms crossed, silently looking down at you and watching.

"i've been recognised by a nobleman in town. he has expressed his desire for me to come and travel with him to the city for a permanent position as a tailor," you explain as you're going through your things.

"...is that so," sukuna replies monotonously.

what you bring up is a sack, seemingly filled with items. sukuna takes it and opens it up to find multiple pairs of shoes and clothes.

"there was no longer any need for any of the materials i had at my home as i was told not to bring them with me... so i used them all up to make clothes and shoes that could be of use to you," you continue, hoisting your luggage back onto your back.

sukuna sees that this is evident in your hands, as they look like they've been overworked and scratched up from strenuous straw braiding and sewing.

"i... probably won't be able to come back. the city is a long way away," you smile wistfully, "so, if you're ever in need of shelter or an icehouse for your hunts, please make use of mine. it should be down along this path, south-east, in the outskirts of this forest."

you give him a final bow.

"i'm truly thankful. my travels to and from town became much easier since the wild animals began avoiding this area. we never shared our names... but i will remember you for the rest of my life as my saviour."

you've always wondered if it was purposeful for him to always go hunting in this particular area.

sukuna scratches his ear at your awful lot of chattiness, being unused to listening to someone for this long. he hadn't really even meant to "save you" back then as you like to state, it was a simple coincidence. but he knows such details don't matter to someone like you.

"i wish you all the best," you say, beginning to walk off, as you wave at him.

sukuna... stands silently as he watches you leave. you're a few metres distance away now, but a sudden question he's wanted to ask blossoms in his mind, with a deep-seated annoyance sitting in the pit of his stomach.

"...why did you never question my abnormalities in appearance? is this something you're giving me out of sympathy?" sukuna asks in a loud voice, holding your bag up in his hand.

you stop in your tracks, and turn back around with a face of silent surprise at the sudden question from the usually wordless individual.

"...eh? uhm... well..." you stutter, seemingly troubled. sukuna raises an eyebrow.

"i've never thought about the situation in such a complicated manner... when i first saw you, i thought that the person who saved my life deserved clothes befitting him, and there was nothing for me to offer except my hard work, despite being an unremarkable tailor..."

you look like you're struggling, while lost in your thoughts.

"as for your appearance - i'm struggling to see what relevance that has with anything. clothes can be worn by anyone, and it's an essential part to any human's life."

sukuna sighs at your naivety.

"... nevermind, i suppose. get out of here," he mutters, turning his back to you.

you smile again, the confusion being wiped off your face entirely.

"farewell, sir! may you be blessed!"

sukuna feigns as though he's leaving with his back turned to you, but a few moments later he turns around to watch your figure disappear in the distance. this will be the last time he ever sees you in this lifetime.

it was the first time someone had viewed him as nothing more than a human, and treated him with any sense of everyday normalcy. and perhaps it is the first time he has received a genuine blessing, in this life of his that is always filled with conflict and malevolence.

but what use is a singular blessing against the multitude of curses that stir deep within his gut? sukuna has already established his path, and has no intention of changing his ways.

regardless of that...

he throws your bag of items over his shoulder to bring with him, and walks alone through the snow, following your directions towards your home. he shall make good use of that icehouse of yours....

- fin -

author's notes; my first proper canon compliant fic!! you may think of this as a late christmas fic hehe

in my humble opinion, sukuna was truly not capable of committing to loving someone in his jjk lifetime. i wouldn't say not capable, but he actively was against going down that path - the only reason he was able to choose to change his ways was due to his loss in the final fight - losing his life in a battle of ideals was the one and only way to get him to accept the value of love! (stubborn old man)

anyway i hope u liked this, i had fun writing it, i wanted to mention that yes, reader's icehouse is the same icehouse that his fatass accidentally crushed a while later before finding uraume! i tried to think of a creative way to involve reader in his life without altering jjk canon...

you are his soulmate, but you found him at the wrong time. perhaps if you'd met him earlier...

sukuna is probably somewhat relieved that you parted ways with him without knowing his true nature and he finds that it was better off this way; he is far too deep into this side already at this point, it would've been impossible for you to understand him to his core.

hopefully his encounter with you in his next life won't be so brief! <3

masterlist

[random-cockroach]

25. 25 CHAPTERS THAT I'VE BEEN READING NON-STOP BECAUSE THIS FIC IS A FRAGGING PIECE OF ART THAT I COULDN'T FIND FOR DECADES AND IT JUST DROPPED ON ME WITH BLESSING OF GODS AND IT STILL HAS SO MANY CHAPTERS?????? I COULDN'T EVEN DRAW BECAUSE I JUST. READING. WOW

I NEED TO SCREAM SOMEWHERE. OKAY SO. AHAHA, I CAME AFTER JAZZ/PROWL, YEAH? AND THE FACT THAT IF TO GET JAZZ/PROWL'S WHATEVER THEY HAVE RIGHT NOW DESTROYING YET FINDING PLEASURE IN EACH OTHER'S COMFORT OR WANTING TO BE "ME AND HIM AGAINST THE WORLD", I STILL WILL LOVE IT SO MUCH (I will not turn caps out, I scream) BECAUSE EVERY CHARACTER. EVERY FRICKING CHARACTER, THEY WAY THEY ALL INTERACT. OOOOHHHH MY GOOOOODDDDDDDDDD. I LITERALLY CAN'T PUT IT DOWN IN WORDS, THIS FIC LITERALLY RUSHED IN THE TOP OF MY FAV BOOKS WHICH IS VERY, VERY SURPISING SINCE THERE ARE NOVELS ABOUT CULTIVATION/REBORN/GODS STUFF AND AHAHAHA. "MISTAKES ON MISTAKES" : WHAS'UP BOYS?? WHY NO ONE TOLD ME I WILL LOVE THIS JAZZ TO DEATH??? DESPERATELY WANTING TO LIVE WHILE ALSO BEING READY/EXPECT TO DIE ANY MOMENT. THIS BOY NEEDS THERAPY AND EVEN PROWL TRIES HIS BEST TO GUESS IN ADVANCE WHAT HE CAN DO WITH HIS TRAUMAS? AAAAAAAAAAA. THIS FIC HAS SO MUCH TASTY THINGS HAPPENING, YOU LITERALLY CAN TAKE ANY OF THEM AND BAM YOU WILL GET THE WHOLE DAMN ANIMATIC/ANIMATION BECAUSE. EVERY ONE OF THEM. CONNECTED ONE OR OTHER WAY OR DESCRIBED IN SUCH WAY THAT I JUST "HHHHUUHHHH" *INHALE-EXHALE*. LET ME IN IDIOT BOX TOO

[keferon]

I need to see this. I'm doing it.

After reading this post. https://www.tumblr.com/spector-author/769138472871182336/keferon-first-things-first-this-is-so-sweet-of?source=share

(i don't know how to add a link from mobile)

I just want to see them interact.

-------

"FELIX!! YOU DID WHAT!?"

Ratchet voice boomed from hangar. Felix shrinks, squeezing his eyes shut until the ringing in his ears stopped.

"I was afraid so I take the sleeping bag to Vortex and..."

"Do you understand how dangerous that was!!! You could have died!!"

"I...I know but..." Vortex wouldn't hurt him. He swallowed the rest of the sentence under Ratchet's intense glare

a loud metal foot step was head and Vortex moved over head. He could barely fit, so the mech has to kneel down. Cameras locking on to the old man, gigantic hand lifting up like it wants to grab him.

Deadlock move instantly. Although smaller than Vortex by almost half, he tries his best to put himself between Ratchet and the bigger mech, blades at the ready.

"Stop right there, big guy" he said, pointing the blade a Vortex.

"Vortex! No!!" First Aid cries, the mech didn't move further, but didn't back down.

"What..? It can actually move without a pilot?" Ratchet stares up at the mech in disbelief. He knew of the rumors, but most rumors were still of things that could happened. Freak accidents and malfunctions. This is the mech actually moving without anyone inside the cockpit.

"Yes. He can...He has been for the most part" Felix answers weakly. Still looking up silently pleading for Vortex to back down.

"He?"

"Vortex....He's...there"

"I don't want to talk like I believe in ghost. But, Ratchet, he's there"

As if to emphasize the point, Vortex moved again, reaching his hand over again threatening to grab at Ratchet. Deadlock raises his blade.

"ENOUGH! Both of you! Stop before I make spare parts out of you!"

There was a pause. Felix can feel Vortex's camera moved from the other mech to Ratchet who out his hand on his hips glaring at both mechs.

Finally Vortex moves. He made a rude gesture at Deadlock then withdraw. Deadlock lower his blade.

Felix realizes he was holding his breath the whole time.

---

I imagine Vortex used to getting yelled at a lot by Ratchet and the others for being really reckless with his piloting. Sometime he comes back with the mech in a mess. A few times he broke his own arms or legs because he was too violent wrestling with the kaijus.

OH YOU. YOU JUST MADE ME REALIZE AHAHA

You made me realize what kind of circus will form if all the guys and gays get to team up. Because usually we have a bunch of characters who are at least somewhat compatible. But these guys??

Literally ahaha. We have a Decepticon who's used to ignore everyone who doesn't outrank him (also a professional backstabber may I add)

Then we have class Keter SCP fucking metal giant sadist/masochist/freak who is also allergic to any kind of authority.

Then we have poor little Swerve who just wants to save his crush.

And then Prowl who is an Autobot and basically should be in charge here but literally WHO is gonna listen to him??

Those aren't Avengers, those are the Suicide squad but it's called suicide because they're literally gonna dismember each other after five minutes in one room.

First aid, Ratchet, Jazz and Blurr: It's so nice to hang out with you guys. So chill and great.

Their gay machinery:

[rabotimagines]

"Pet names" GN! Bot Reader + Optimus, Jazz, Ironhide, the Lambo twins

Summary: Reader has become partial to using human pet names for everyone.

Warnings: none.

Genre/Theme: Platonic/with hints of crush

G1 characters included: Optimus, Jazz, Ironhide, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe

Notes: Cybertronian Reader, Reader written as around Ironhides age, so older in mind

Pronouns: You, your, yours, them, they

Optimus takes the energon cube you had offered him with an instinctive smile only he almost drops it when you open your mouth to say, "Cube for you, Sweetspark."

Optimus's plating ruffled up immediately, and he couldn't really stop his optics from burning a touch brighter. Jazz coughs into his servo, very unsuccessfully hiding his half laugh. "Thank- you." Optimus settles on because you're still waiting for a response. His vocilizor is a touch tight at the end due to the warmth of the sudden bashfulness in his own chassis. Optimus turns back to Jazz, who was grinning in obvious amusement. Optimus resets his vocilizor before asking Jazz to continue with the verbal review he was giving Optimus.

Optimus then realizes this was something you were now making a habit of when you give him a datapad and call him "Sugar." It eventually doesn't feel like his sparks going to jump out of its own volition, so Optimus allows himself to enjoy the casual affection. It was something delightfully domestic- an affection none of them had privy to after so many vorns at war. It's almost too much at times hearing the fondness in your tone and the delight in your optics. But it's something Optimus has needed for a very, very long time regardless of how raw it may make him feel at the same time.

Optimus will also endure it because watching Prowl or Ironhide struggle with it themselves was actually quite funny. Maybe Optimus will feel brave enough to return the affection back to you one day.

-

As soon as the habit develops, Jazz is for it and a hundred percent ready to join you in using human pet names. Jazz doesn't use them as freely as you do. He thinks it's more entertaining watching the autobots fluster from the side, them not knowing how to handle the little verbal affections. Jazz only tends to use them egregiously with you specifically. It turns into a fun little game between you and Jazz over who can use the most pet names before stumbling into the most embarrassing pet name.

"Heya Lover." You smiled catty at Jazz.

"Doll." Jazz pouted his bottom derma at you.

You quirked an optical ridge, smile still in place. "Hot stuff."

"Sugar lips." Jazz practically purrs, and you hold solid optical contact with on another. You break your gaze first and start laughing in earnest, causing Jazz to realize he'd definitely hit the absurd first with that one. "Yeah, because your derma look sweet?" He grins through his own explanation, watching you laugh.

You just vent finally and smile lazily. "Better luck next time, Romeo." You sing and push his pauldron playfully on your way out the door. Jazz let's himself watch you leave. The playful flirting definitely made Jazz's days feel a bit better. More normal than he'd really been allowed to actually be in vorns. The lightsparked interactions he was having with you were quickly becoming his favorite around the ark.

-

You almost kill Ironhide when he gives you your report he'd gotten from Prowl. "Thank you, Darling," Ironhides engine stalls at the phrase, and he has to slam his fist into his chassis to get it to keep going.

"Beg ya pardon?" Because surely he just heard you wrong. But you just look at him properly and smile all sly, and Ironhide already knows he had heard you correctly before you trace a digit down his windshield glass.

"Thank you, Darling." You repeat, and Ironhides optics burn a level higher than they should near immediately. He scoffs and bats your servo away, trying to ignore the cobalt that's more than probably staining his faceplate.

"Don't be saying slag like that." But slag was slag, and in the vorns Ironhide had known you, you'd always been a slagger. He realizes it's just what you do now when he sees you call Prowl "Pumpkin." Doesn't mean Ironhides gotta like it any. You know he doesn't appreciate it, but because you're a menace so you lay it on extra thick whenever you're talking to Ironhide. Ironhide wasn't a newbuild by a long shot, but the almost sickly sweet phrases are so foreign on Ironhides audials. At this point, he can't stop himself from getting flustered.

Stop that already! Hes too old to be called that! And your too old to be saying slag like that!

-

Sunstreaker is gonna kill you- he knows he can't actually because you're his superior. But frag if you call him "Sunshine" one more time- You offered to stop if Sunstreaker could beat you in a spar, which he agreed to. Which only led to Sunstreaker getting knocked on his aft several separate times. Which only succeeds in making him seethe even more whenever Sunshine comes rolling off your glossia.

His chassis had eventually started to warm whenever your derma curled when you called him it- and that only made him even angrier! Sunstreaker was a war frame! You teasingly calling him a pet name shouldn't do anything BUT annoy him! Sunstreaker was going to beat you in that spar, and he was going to get you to only call him by his actual designation

Sunstreaker knows it's the only way he'll get it to stop because you don't even listen to Ratchet when he tells you to stop using those ridiculous pet names. (But he also notices how Ratchets plating fluffed up like a preening seeker whenever you did call him anything but Ratchet.) The only solace Sunstreaker has is the fact that Sideswipes pet name is somehow even more ridiculous than his.

...

Sideswipe is aghast. Sideswipes baffled. And Sideswipe is disappointed. What the pit kind of a pet name is "Pookie"?! You'll call everybody by more than one pet name besides Sunstreaker and apparently also Sideswipe for some reason. You called Sideswipe "Babe" once and only once, and he's still trying to get his pet name switched to that over Pookie because seriously! Pookie?! You've called him Babe before! It's so easy you can do it again! Please do it again!

Sideswipe hated Pookie. He hated the little smirk that curled at your derma and the amusement in your optics less when you said it- Sideswipe really needed you to call him babe like you had. Your tone is low, barely teasing but very audibly fond. And that directed at Sideswipe? The one time had his engine purring automatically, and his processor wandered south where he knew it shouldn't have been in the first place.

He's watching Sunny get his tailpipe kicked in by you in a spar again, and he ends up asking if he can fight for better pet name rights, too. You laugh "Sure Pookie, you get next round. Step up." So Sideswipe fights for his honor of a better pet name. And Sideswipe gets his aft kicked worse than Sunny. As soon as Sideswipe hits the ground, Sunstreakers back up to try to take you down again.

His brother loses twice as fast to you this time, and Sideswipe can't help asking what the pit that pathetic attempt was! "Have you ever even beaten them in a spar before?!"

Sunstreaker snapped his helm in Sideswips direction with a glare that could freeze the pit over. "Shut the frag up, Pookie!"

Sideswipes on his pedes and in his brothers space in no time flat because how fragging dare he?! You barely get to call him that! "What was that, Sunshine!?"

They're swinging at each other before they know it with you laughing in the background. You end up breaking them up before they get too into it and scold them both with the pet names they both hate.

[guardianofnightmares]

Prowl: I’m not asking questions in order to judge, Bumblebee. The only thing I want is to understand you.

Bumblebee: … he couldn’t see me. And yet, I felt like he was observing me, my gestures and emotions, learning more about a mech I turned out to be in his inner sight.

Perhaps, it was due to effects of a prolonged direct link between our processors… but I think Megatron’s discovered something in my data, in our shared memories. Something unique solely to a mech like him, who managed to see it… And he has accepted that version of me, which no one else, even me, will ever know.

----------

Back from a much needed break with a new work and the first thing which came to my mind was my beloved TFA crackship (help). But I would be lying if I said that it was not a welcomed change of pace.

Jokes aside, it’s cool to see people liking the interactions (platonic/friendly ones as well) between these two characters, however few of such works there are on web. Because in my opinion, there is a potential for an interesting chemistry between them in some TF continuities. Like in TFA where, given the right opportunity, two mechs can find strength in each other and a such desired safe harbor.

P.S. I am planning on giving a proper explanation of this AU of mine in the future. Hope you’ll enjoy my twist on MegaBee pairing which was brewing in my mind for quite a while now.

[catthepillarr]

"Soon, I lost all contact with Cybertron, and I know my mission to find you could not fail."

Call me crazy, but I have a theory.

I really like the theory that Tfes Prowl expresses affection through physical touch, which is proven by the multiple times he has hugged several people throughout season 3. (I think the most convincing argument would be the last episode in which Prowl hugs Megatron whilst saying "I appreciate you, Megatron." It can't be more blatant than that, really.) But it got me thinking, why? Why is this iteration of Prowl so comfortable with physical interactions? You can say, "the writers wanted to add some variety to his personality", or simply for shock value, but I think that's too surface-level.

In episode 4, Prowl is introduced. He says "Optimus Prime, I have been searching the galaxies for you." and "My departure from Cybertron was ages ago". I think from these two lines, it's pretty obvious Prowl has been isolated for a prolonged period of time (which is also emphasised by the large, empty troop transport ship). This is corroborated by the statement that he has "lost all contact with Cybertron". Hence, it really isn't hard to believe that the reason why Prowl is going around hugging people is simply because he's just touch-starved. Like seriously, it's not too far-fetched to make that inference. Solitary isolation has been scientifically proven to cause one to crave stimulation which is taken away from individuals who lack the opportunity to interact with others.

Of course, this is literally just a headcanon I'm vehemently trying to justify but isn't it entertaining to rotate the thought of Prowl, of all people, desperately craving contact because he has been deprived of it for so long?

Additionally, just for fun, isn't it also extremely entertaining to just theorise that the reason why Prowl is hugging the people he feels comfortable around is not solely because of his desperation but also because his prolonged solitude has warped his mind into believing physical interactions are now a priority?

Seriously, do you really understand just how entertaining it is to think about just how desperate Prowl was to find Optimus? The emotions long neglected reopening like old wounds when he finally sees his long lost allies?? Do you see the potential for angst??? Can you imagine how sad that little wet cat would be if someone had pushed him away when he tried to hug them jsjdfjfj????

Sorry guys I really like Prowl

[cei1ne]

—Aizawa Shouta crushing on Y/N with the song “No.1 party anthem” by Arctic Monkeys

»—————> <—————«

•∘ɷ∘•°✿Summary: Many moments where it is shown that Aizawa has a crush on you and each situations matches the lyric or a part of the song ‘No.1 party anthem’

♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x GN!Reader

◁II▷Tags: Romance ; Slow Burn ; Friends to lovers ; MHA Fiction ; Longing Stares ; Yearning ; Missed Opportunities

••✎••Wordcount: 5.5k (I think)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊A/N: Guys I tried my best this is my first time doing this like if the various parts even match the lyrics? I DONT KNOW OK? But anyways I DO NOT CARE that the song isn’t a love song it is a love song in my eyes don’t annoy me. And the lyrics are not properly in order but I don’t care. Enjoy ☺️

»—————> <—————«

Number One Party Anthem

Aizawa had always thought of himself as someone who operated on autopilot. He’d been a pro hero for so long that it all blurred into the background. There were the usual routines: missions, paperwork, training, and the quiet exhaustion that followed. It was a life he’d grown accustomed to—efficient, detached, and focused on what mattered: the job.

But then there was you.

And that was different.

Aizawa had always been a man of few words, someone who found solace in his solitude. He never really cared for the bright lights and attention that heroes sometimes attracted. So when you’d come into his life, a fellow pro, someone who didn’t care for the spotlight but still had that certain fire to them, it caught him off guard. The way you moved, the way you interacted with people—how effortlessly you navigated through life, always with a hint of mischief in your eyes—it was captivating, even when he tried to ignore it.

_________________________________

“So you’re on the prowl wondering whether / She left already or not”

There was something about this particular night that felt off to Aizawa. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen, but the tension in the air suggested it was just a matter of time. Maybe it was the way the sky seemed so dark, or how the city hummed with energy, almost as if it was bracing for something.

But Aizawa wasn’t concerned with the weather. His thoughts always seemed to gravitate toward you, and tonight was no exception. You had been on his mind all day, even as he fought through the usual patrols, always keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble.

But trouble wasn’t what was on his mind now.

He found himself staring out over the edge of the rooftop, his eyes lost in the distant skyline. The city lights flickered below him, almost like they were keeping a rhythm. He had always been the type to sit in silence, to let the world pass him by. It was easier that way, less complicated.

But then, just as the night seemed to stretch on endlessly, there was a soft sound behind him. Aizawa didn’t need to turn around to know it was you. You had a way of moving so quietly, so effortlessly, that you could walk right into his life and he wouldn’t even hear it.

“Noticing something I’m missing?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper as you joined him on the rooftop.

You always had a way of sneaking up on him, catching him off guard in a way he didn’t quite mind.

“No,” he replied with a soft grunt. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You stood beside him, but not too close. Just enough to feel the steady hum of presence in the space between you. Aizawa didn’t want to admit it, but you had a way of invading his thoughts, even when he wasn’t fully aware of it. He couldn’t explain it. You didn’t try too hard to get into his head. It just… happened. And that scared him a little.

“I was thinking about how the city feels different tonight,” he said, his voice betraying the calm exterior he tried so hard to maintain.

You gave a soft laugh, almost as if you knew exactly what he was getting at. “It’s just a feeling,” you said, your eyes moving from the skyline to the ground far below. “Sometimes, the city just has that kind of energy. It’s electric. Makes you feel alive.”

Aizawa glanced at you, noticing the way the light reflected in your eyes, the coolness of the evening air barely affecting you. He never understood why you always seemed so unaffected by things. You took everything in stride, as though the weight of the world didn’t exist on your shoulders.

“Are you saying you feel the same way?” he asked quietly, looking at the way the shadows played across your face.

You shrugged, a nonchalant movement that only made him more curious. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s just a feeling. You wouldn’t understand.”

There it was again—the familiar way you looked at him, like you were daring him to figure you out. You never made it easy for anyone. But for some reason, Aizawa didn’t want it to be easy. There was something about the mystery of you that kept pulling him in.

“You never make it easy,” he muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you looked back at him, your gaze piercing and full of something he couldn’t quite place. There was a quiet understanding between you two, an unspoken connection that neither of you had acknowledged out loud. Not yet.

After a long pause, you finally spoke, breaking the tension with your usual wit. “That’s the point, Shouta.”

The way you said his name sent a shiver down his spine. Aizawa couldn’t tell if it was the way you pronounced it—almost like a challenge—or if it was the fact that you had a way of making everything feel significant, even the smallest details.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had affected him this way.

_________________________________

“Leather jacket, collar popped like Cantona / Never knowing when to stop”

The night continued, and as much as Aizawa tried to focus on the task at hand, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you two was changing. He wasn’t sure if it was the mission, the hours of working side by side, or the subtle shift in the way you interacted. But he could feel it, deep in his bones.

The two of you moved through the agency’s halls, the low hum of activity almost foreign to him. Aizawa preferred the quieter spaces, the ones that allowed him to think, to breathe. But tonight, with you by his side, everything felt different.

You were talking—about some trivial detail from a past mission, he assumed—but Aizawa didn’t hear a word. He was too distracted by the way you moved. You wore that leather jacket like you owned the world, the collar popped just enough to make you look untouchable. Your presence was magnetic, pulling him in with every step.

“Shouta?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re spacing out again,” you teased. “I was telling you about my plan for the next mission. Focus.”

Aizawa offered a half-smile, his eyes betraying him. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“About what?”

You always asked the right questions, as if you knew exactly how to get under his skin. He didn’t know how you managed it, but you did. And it drove him crazy in the best way.

“About you,” he muttered.

You didn’t pause. “What about me?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he kept walking beside you, his thoughts racing.

_________________________________

“Sunglasses indoor is par for the course Lights in the floors and sweat on the walls”

The mission was finally over, and the team had retired to one of their usual hangouts to relax. But Aizawa wasn’t in the mood for company. He had always preferred solitude, and tonight, the noise of everyone else felt like too much.

He stepped out of the crowded space and into the cool night air, hoping for a moment of peace. But he wasn’t alone for long.

There you were again—standing in the doorway of the building, your sunglasses perched on your head despite it being late at night. You had that same look in your eyes, the one that said you knew exactly what you wanted, and no one could stop you from getting it.

“You should probably take those off,” Aizawa said with a half-smirk as you walked toward him.

You shrugged, your cool demeanor never wavering. “Why? They make me look good.”

Aizawa couldn’t argue with that. You always looked good. He hated the way that fact kept running through his mind. He hated how you were always so effortlessly attractive without even trying.

You took a drag from your cigarette, and Aizawa couldn’t help but watch the way the smoke curled from your lips. It was hypnotic in a way he couldn’t explain. The world around him seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing in the quiet.

“I don’t like crowds,” you said after a while. “They’re too loud. Too much noise.”

Aizawa nodded, understanding exactly what you meant. It was why he often retreated to the quiet corners of the world, the places where only silence and shadows kept him company. But with you, it was different.

You made the silence feel… comfortable. Like he could just exist without the need for explanations.

_________________________________

“She’s having a sly indoor smoke and she calls the folks who run this, her oldest friends”

Later that evening, you led Aizawa back inside, the sounds of the party still raging in the background. You moved through the crowd with ease, your calm demeanor cutting through the chaos like a knife.

Aizawa watched you, admiring the way you handled everything around you. People gravitated toward you, yet you never seemed to care. It was something he envied, something he couldn’t quite replicate.

You stopped in front of the bar, exchanging a few words with the bartender. Aizawa could see you making connections, your easy confidence allowing you to slip into any conversation without a second thought. You were a master at it.

But Aizawa knew you didn’t let just anyone in. There was a distance to you, a wall that few could breach. And yet, he’d always felt like you saw him in a way others didn’t.

You turned back to him, your eyes narrowing slightly as if you were studying him. “You don’t belong here, do you?”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “I belong wherever I want to be.”

You smirked, but it wasn’t one of your usual playful smiles. This one was different, almost knowing.

“Maybe. But tonight, I think you belong with me.”

For a moment, Aizawa froze. It wasn’t often someone spoke to him like that—like they understood exactly what he needed, even if he didn’t fully understand it himself. He wanted to say something in response, but the words didn’t come.

Instead, he simply nodded, and for the first time that night, he let the moment linger.

_________________________________

“Sipping a drink and laughing at imaginary jokes as all the signals are sent, her eyes invite you to approach”

You didn’t speak for a while. Instead, you sipped your drink, laughing at something that no one else seemed to understand. Aizawa noticed how others were drawn to you, to the energy you exuded without even trying.

It was magnetic. Impossible to ignore.

When you looked back at him, your eyes were full of something he couldn’t name. Something that made his heart race, something that made him want to step closer.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you remarked, as though it wasn’t an observation but a challenge.

Aizawa glanced at you, but he didn’t respond right away. He didn’t know what to say. Every time you were around, he found himself lost in the details, in the way your presence seemed to overwhelm him.

“You know,” you continued, leaning in slightly, “you don’t have to say anything. I already know what you’re thinking.”

Aizawa frowned slightly, trying to hide the way your words affected him. But you didn’t give him the chance.

Your eyes spoke for you, and in that moment, it felt like the whole world shifted.

_________________________________

“The look of love, the rush of blood, the ‘She’s with me’ is the Gallic shrug”

There was a moment, right then, in the midst of all the noise, the laughter, the cluttered space, when Aizawa found himself staring at you again. The entire room had blurred out, the faces of his colleagues and strangers fading into the background. All that remained was the way the soft light illuminated your features and the distinct feeling of your presence.

It wasn’t something he could explain. Not easily, at least. He hadn’t even realized when it happened, but somehow, everything about you—the subtle way you moved, the confidence with which you navigated the chaos of the night, the way your eyes locked with his across the room—it made him feel something that was not quite like anything he had ever experienced before.

He couldn’t recall the last time someone had made him feel this alive, and he hated how much that realization affected him.

You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze with an ease that made Aizawa’s heart skip a beat. He quickly averted his eyes, but not before seeing that faint, almost imperceptible smirk that tugged at the corner of your lips.

“What’s that look about?” you asked, your voice cutting through the loud chatter around you.

He could feel the weight of your stare even though he wasn’t looking at you. His body betrayed him as he found himself reacting to your presence more than he should. He hated how vulnerable it made him feel, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

“Just admiring how you command the room,” he said, his voice steady, though he couldn’t fully mask the change in the atmosphere between you two. It was electric now, the kind of charge that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

You chuckled softly, a knowing glint in your eyes. “I have my ways.”

Aizawa smirked, the tension between you two palpable. The words didn’t need to be spoken, but he knew. You knew.

And then you leaned just slightly toward him, the briefest movement, just enough for him to feel it. You weren’t just talking to him like a colleague, like a friend. There was something in your gaze now, something that hinted at more.

“She’s with me,” you murmured under your breath, your voice barely audible above the noise, yet somehow, Aizawa could hear it clearly.

Aizawa’s breath hitched at the words, at the intensity behind them. They weren’t just words. They were a challenge. A statement of possession, but not in the usual way. No, there was something more to it. Something deeper. And though he wanted to pretend it didn’t affect him, he could feel the rush of blood to his face. He couldn’t remember a time when someone had made him feel this vulnerable, this exposed.

_________________________________

“The shutterbugs, the Camera Plus, the black and white and the color dodge

The moment lingered, yet the noise around them seemed to only grow louder. The party didn’t stop for the connection that had sparked between Aizawa and you. The flashing lights from the cameras bounced off the walls, casting fleeting moments of brightness across the dim room. Shutterbugs, flashes, people posing and capturing moments for social media. It felt like the world had turned into one big photo album for everyone around them, but Aizawa and you remained in your own bubble, untouched by the distractions.

Still, there was something about the way you held yourself in that light that made him pause. You weren’t interested in the superficiality of the camera’s lens. You didn’t need validation from the world. The only thing that mattered was what was between the two of you.

Aizawa watched you, transfixed as you pulled out your phone and casually snapped a few pictures.

“Not much of a camera person,” he remarked, unsure why he was even commenting on it. It was an odd subject to bring up, but something about the way you framed the world in your photos intrigued him.

You raised an eyebrow, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “I like capturing moments that other people overlook. It’s not about the picture, Shouta. It’s about the memory.”

The words struck him. You didn’t just observe the world—you experienced it. You took everything in, every little detail, as though it was something worthy of holding onto. In a way, he envied that. He never took the time to stop and appreciate the small things.

But you? You saw everything. You noticed what others missed.

Your gaze shifted to him then, locking eyes once again as you raised your phone, the flash going off in an instant.

It caught him off guard. The click of the camera was sharp, unexpected, and the way you captured him, frozen in time under the flash, made something stir deep within him.

“Do you even know how good you look in that picture?” you said, almost teasing him as you glanced at your phone.

Aizawa didn’t answer immediately. For once, he couldn’t find the words.

Instead, he simply stared at you, allowing himself to be pulled into the moment. This was a side of you he hadn’t seen before. The playful, the unbothered, the one who reveled in the fleeting beauty of the moment. And somehow, without realizing it, you had captured him in that image.

_________________________________

“The good time girls, the cubicles, the house of fun, the number one”

Hours had passed, and though the crowd had thinned, the atmosphere remained the same. It had shifted from chaotic to something quieter, but the energy was still thick between the two of them.

Aizawa was no longer hiding behind his usual walls. Not with you. Not now. He couldn’t help but notice how your energy had shifted, how you moved through the space like you owned it, like you knew exactly what you wanted.

But what did you want? Aizawa found himself wondering this as you glanced over your shoulder toward him, inviting him to follow.

The two of you navigated through the maze of cubicles, away from the clattering noise of the larger gathering. The further you moved from the main party, the quieter it became. There was a sense of intimacy here, in the soft glow of dimly lit hallways and the hush of retreating footsteps.

“Do you always disappear like this?” Aizawa asked, though he already knew the answer. You weren’t someone who could be easily tied down. You never stayed in one place for long.

You paused, turning to face him with a mischievous grin. “Only when I find someone worth disappearing with.”

Aizawa felt something stir within him at your words. The slight tilt of your head, the way your eyes didn’t leave his—everything about this moment felt like an unspoken invitation.

He wasn’t sure how long it would last, this connection, but for once, he wasn’t questioning it. He wasn’t overthinking.

You were the one person who could pull him away from everything, and for that, he was grateful. Because when it came to you, he didn’t need to understand it all. He just needed to be in it.

_________________________________

“Before the moment’s gone, Number one party anthem”

The final part of the night came too soon. The space between you both seemed to grow shorter, the energy intensifying as the moments stretched on. And then, just as quickly, it seemed as if the moment had arrived to leave.

But you didn’t want to go. Neither did Aizawa.

As you stood there, side by side, there was a quiet understanding. You had captured him. And he, in turn, had found himself captured by you.

It was in the small moments—the way you pulled him from the crowd, the way you made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Aizawa wasn’t one for grand gestures or spoken words. But with you, he didn’t need to say anything. The moment spoke for itself.

In the end, it wasn’t the camera flashes, the noise, or the people around them. It was the two of them. Together. And that was all that mattered.

The night wasn’t over, but for Aizawa and you, it had already become something unforgettable.

_________________________________

“Come on, come on, come on before the moment’s gone”

Aizawa never rushed anything. Not in battle, not in conversation, not even in love.

But last night had tested that patience in a way he didn’t quite understand.

Because there had been a moment—just one—where he had almost reached for you. Almost closed the distance. Almost let himself fall into the gravity of you.

And then it was gone.

Like smoke slipping between his fingers, the moment passed too quickly. The warmth of the night, the quiet understanding, the way your eyes had softened just slightly when you looked at him—it had been right there. And yet, he hesitated.

Hesitated because he knew what it meant.

Because Aizawa didn’t do things halfway. If he gave in, if he let himself go to you, it wouldn’t just be a fleeting thing. It wouldn’t be a reckless decision made under the haze of late-night exhaustion and too many glances exchanged across a crowded room.

It would be real. Permanent.

And maybe that’s why he let the moment pass.

Maybe that’s why, when you stood there at the end of the night, the question unspoken in your eyes, Aizawa had only given you a lingering look before muttering something about an early patrol shift.

You had smiled—small, knowing, unreadable. You always saw through him.

“See you around, Shouta.”

The words had stuck with him. The finality of them. Because they hadn’t meant goodbye. They hadn’t meant anything that simple.

They had meant: Come on, before the moment’s gone.

And now, in the quiet of the morning, with nothing but the sound of rain and the faint glow of his phone screen lighting up the dark, Aizawa knew.

Knew that if the moment came again, he wouldn’t let it pass.

[justnatoka]

Not so smooth anymore

Dwayne x GN! Reader

A/n: Here you go @poubelle-d-elle, here's a little something for awkward/shy Dwayne as I promised😊 Quick note: this is very silly.

Word count: 896

For the first time, Dwayne is not the smooth one in a conversation.

Dwayne was attractive, and he was very much aware of it. He had a nice physique, a handsome face and a pretty smile – it made hunting all the more easy, whether it was for dinner or a companion for the night.

He had game too. He wasn't so heavy-handed with the flirting like Paul, he was much more subtle. A compliment here, a charming look there, and girls and guys and anyone in between were ready to follow him to any secluded spot. Some of them lived to tell their friends in excited whispers about the best night of their lives. Some of them weren't so lucky.

Tonight, he was on the prowl again. It didn't take long to spot someone to his liking. They were a pretty thing with a nice figure and a cool style – or at least as far as he could tell from their back. They were casually leaning on the railing at the edge of the boardwalk, watching the people on the beach down below, occasionally taking sips from their milkshake.

Dwayne walked over with confident strides and joined them. At the movement to their right, they turned to him, and suddenly Dwayne froze.

They were the most attractive person he’s ever seen. Beautiful eyes shining bright under the colorful lights around them, with lips so perfect he wanted to kiss them silly right then and there, their face framed just right with locks of hair he desperately wanted to run his fingers through. And then the corners of their eyes crinkled, their lips turning into a stunning smile with just a hint of mischief.

Just like that, Dwayne was a goner.

“Hi,” you greeted him, and it took him a second to realize you said something; he was too engrossed in admiring you.

“Hey,” he replied just a moment too late not to make it sound awkward.

He noted with surprise that he was panicking. He was desperately looking for something to say, but it was like his brain just shut off. This has never happened before. He was quickly realizing that he was severely out of his depth here. In the end, all he managed was a “You come here often?”

You snorted, and he wanted to slap himself.

“You know, for a guy with your looks, you would think you have more game than that,” you teased, but there was no malice in your voice.

Did you just call him attractive? He had no idea, and he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Even though he messed this up right at the beginning, you were still here, still smiling and talking to him. He took that as a good sign.

“I don’t.”

He stared at you blankly, clearly lost. Your amused smile turned just a bit wider.

“The answer to your question. I don’t come here often. Just moved here in fact.”

Oh, so that’s what you meant. He felt himself becoming more and more flustered.

“Maybe you could show me around sometime.”

Now he understood what it felt like to fall under someone’s charm in just a few seconds. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was fumbling this so hard and you still wanted to meet him again?

He flashed you a smile and tried not to sound too eager as he replied, “Sure, I would like that.”

You fished out a pen from one of your pockets, took one of his hands in yours and started scrawling on the back of it. He had a hard time concentrating on what you were doing, the feeling of your hand against his was sending sparks to his brain.

The moment was over all too soon, and you were already drawing back. Then, with a playful smile and a “Call me”, you were gone, swallowed by the crowd like a beautiful apparition. The whole interaction lasted for only a few minutes. For a second, he couldn’t be sure it even happened, that he didn’t just make you up in his head. But as he finally looked down at his hand, there was your number, and more importantly, your name. He caught himself whispering it out loud, liking the way it sounded on his tongue.

Oh, he was so in love.

Extra:

When he came back to the boys empty handed, a dopey grin on his face, they instantly knew something was going on. David and Paul shared an incredulous look, not used to seeing their friend so out of it. But Marko was all too happy to supply the answers.

“Sure, I would like that. What’s wrong with you, dude? You sounded like a teenage girl with a crush,” he cackled, and Dwayne realized, mortified, that he had witnessed at least part of their interaction.

“What’s up, big man? Someone got you whipped?” Paul joined the teasing.

“Oh he’s whipped alright. You should have seen it, man. All it took was a pretty face and he clammed up so hard. It was kind if pathetic,” Marko added. He still giggled like the little gremlin he is as he dodged the punch throws his way.

At last, Dwayne felt David’s hand come down on his shoulder, and his friend turned to him with an understanding look.

“It’s okay,” he started. Finally some sympathy. “We’ll still like you. Even as a pathetic, lovesick loser.”

He seriously hated these guys sometimes.

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