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Talk to Me (Jax)

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Chapter 3: I F#%*% Love the Stupid Sauce

cw: mentions being high

a/n: format is weird bc i’m lazy to fix it 😭 tag list open!

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"Wake up sleepyhead!" Jax ripped the covers off of you.

You "whimpered" once the cold air sat in, waving your hand to shoo him away.

#jax x reader #comment for tag list #tadc jax x reader #tadc jax #sorta fluff #mute reader #mime reader

Thanks to @flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt!

Warnings: for some blood, and gore.

#flashfictionfridayofficial #flash fiction #flash fic #my writing #the dracula daily thing #some fluff #sorta fluff #books

getting to fights with them ♡

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characters included: kokomi ♡ (who would like a part two with sara and baal ♡? separately <3!)

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this sucks so fucking bad I'm already rewriting it HAHA- (cleaning out old drafts at 2AM be like:)

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K O K O M I ~ : ♡

"(Y/N), I don't have time for this. I have other matters to attend to." the priestess shut her book inward, sighing in obvious annoyance. "please, koko, I only want a minute-" "a minute I cannot spare. now please leave (Y/N). I have more important things than you to worry about. we have a whole revolution going on, I cannot spare a minute for whatever it is you want. people's lives are at stake, and last time I checked, lives of thousands of people are much more important than your unnecessary needs, (Y/N)" her pale eyes immediately widened, snapping her head towards you. "(Y-Y/N), I promise, I didn't mean-" she was shaking. she wasn't thinking. her hands that were previously placing her rusty book back onto her vintage bookshelf trembled, and her face went pale. she expected, no- wanted you to yell at her, to lash out. to tell her what she said was wrong, but all you said was, "...shh, i-it's fine. I, um, actually have a matter to attend to myself...m-my apologies for disturbing you." gently shutting the door behind you, all she could do was stare in shock. she just said words to you, cruel and venomous words, and you said it was alright? no, this would not do. you were going to yell at her, and do it soon. exiting her daze of shock and remorse, the pink-haired female ran toward the door, practically punching it open, surveying the surrounding area only to see nothing. you were gone. damn it. later that night, you returned home, exhausted from work. dragging your sore feet, you made your way into the divine bedroom you shared with your lover. changing into your pajamas, you made your way to the feathery bed, the room pitch black. your lover was sleeping soundly on the right side of the bed, or so you thought. feeling the bed become warmer, kokomi's consciousness only gained in power. as you settled into the silky sheets, you felt delicate arms snake around your waist, and soft sweet kisses being pressed to your nape. "I'm sorry..." that was all that left her lips. honestly, you didn't mind. you knew. you knew she was.

#yumpty // shitposts-#yumpty // post <3 #yumpty post :D!#kokomi #genshin impact kokomi #genshin kokomi #sangonomiya kokomi #sangonaomiya x reader #kokomi x reader #genshin x reader #kokomi angst #kokomi kinda fluff #sangonomiya fluff #sorta fluff #angst (?)#;___;

Best Summer Ever (Max Mayfield x fem!Reader)

“This is gonna be the best summer ever!“ Lucas pumped his fist into the air.

#max mayfield #max mayfield x reader #max mayfield x fem reader #stranger things x reader #max x reader #max mayfield one shot #max mayfield imagine #stranger things imagine #fluff #sorta fluff #stranger things #gay gals #summer of lovin #let the good times roll #it

Prompt from anon: I need something sad. Tony is older and him and Pete has been together for a few years now, Tony slowly starts showing signs of Alzheimer’s (let’s say he’s in his late 50’s, early 60’s) and it starts off small like forgetting where he put the remote or where he is when he wakes up. Then it starts getting worse like forgetting Peter’s name or forgetting who he was and it finally reaches the point where Tony doesn’t even remember what he looks like or that he’s even married to Peter. Whoop.

((fff this was supposed to be short but I got carried away and now there's a full page of shit i wrote in the middle of a depressive episode sorry))

Read it here on Ao3

They say time is a silent killer, that it creeps up so unsuspecting, until the devastating effects of it come to light.

There is no denying it-- Tony is getting old. Yes, he's Tony Stark, the enigmatic brilliant inventor who became so much more than a weapons producer, who made himself more than the title of 'Howard Stark's son'. But he's human, and time waits for no one. Peter's attentive eyes don't miss the first beginnings of grey hair sprouting from Tony's scalp, highlighting sections of his normally chocolate-brown curls. They were barely noticeable at first, only visible when Peter's curled up on the bed beside the older man, chin nestled on Tony's steadily rising and falling chest, moonlight spilling though the fluttering curtains; but as time grew on Tony's hair grew predominantly silver-white, the scratchy stubble of his goatee becoming a pepper grey. (Peter finds out only much later that Tony's been greying since he hit his forties, but has always been careful in dyeing his hair monthly to hide his ageing.) The crinkles of Tony's smiling eyes grew deeper, the stress lines on his face becoming harder. The seemingly-constant dark bags under his eyes gave him a tired, distinguished look. (Tony would lightly tease that they were the result the many countless nights spent worrying over the young crime-fighting teen.)

But most of all, along with his health, Tony's memory deteriorated. He's at the deeper end of fifty, and still his ingenuity never catches a break; he's still actively inventing, creating pieces that still cease to shock and impress the world. His brilliant mind is seemingly still at its peak-- so it's a shock for the both of them when the older man starts displaying signs of dementia. Simple, unforgettable events like forgetting where Tony had placed his wrench, when it was on the worktable as usual; or important information slipping from his mind, showing up late to business meetings not-on-purpose. The rest of the Avengers lose their patience with his absent-mindedness fairly quickly, rolling their eyes or greeting him with pursed lips as he misses yet another mission debrief.

Peter slips out of a particularly stressful briefing-- where everyone had been shooting reproachful glances at Tony's- empty- assigned seat for the entirety of it-- to retreat to the lab, where he finds Tony bent over the most recent project. He looks up with bleary eyes as the boy enters, a small smile on his tired face that Peter easily returns; it quickly slips, though, as soon as he notices how Peter is still in his spider suit.

"Oh god. I missed it again, didn't I," Tony states rather than questions, mouth set into a frown as Peter crosses over to him and gently brushes back his sweat-matted hair.

"It was nothing important anyways," Peter attempts to reassure, but pauses as he takes in the pained look in the other's eyes. "What? What is it?"

A shaky hand reaches up to cup his cheek, and he instinctively leans into the warm touch, gaze never wavering. He watches the Adam's apple in Tony's throat bob, catches the flash of desperation across the man's face, hears the shuddering intake of breath; then Tony retreats back behind sealed -off walls yet again. "You can tell me," Peter pleads then, his won hand flying up to keep Tony's arm there. "Please."

It's a disease. Early Onset Alzheimer's, is what's typed across the medical report. The bold words blur across the page, shaky and unclear, until Peter realises that he's trembling all over and hot tears are welling up in his eyes. He blinks them away furiously, suppressing the shuddering gasps threatening to escape his chest, until a teardrop slips traitiorously down his cheek and lands with a splat on the paper. Then he's being wrapped up in strong familiar arms, held tight and close as Tony steadies him, answering his gaspy sobs with soft murmurs.

It's not even Peter who's sick.

It's majorly unfair. They say life's unfair, but there's always varying degrees, isn't there? From missing a bus to not winning the lottery to seeing your parents leave one night and saying you'll see them tomorrow, and then you wake up the next day and they're gone and you never really got to say goodbye.

Tony doesn't deserve this. Hasn't he suffered enough?

Hasn't Peter suffered enough?

The disease consumes Tony painfully slow, every moment torturous. Every symptom on the doctor's checklist displays itself, one by one. Memory loss. Language problems. Changes in personality. Difficulty organising and expressing thoughts. This last one understandably hits home the hardest to the inventor; sometimes Tony will pause in his work momentarily, a far-off look in his eyes, brows furrowed in concentration, until he'll fling his worktools to the ground and let out a scream of frustration.

"It's not working," Tony snarls, sinking heavy onto the chair, burying his calloused hands into the grey mess of his hair. "It's not- fucking, I can't get it to work!"

"It's okay. It's alright, Tony."

"I can't do it. Can't. Don't know how, I don't know."

"That's fine, you'll get it soon enough. You always do," Peter pleads, holding the man's hands in his and running his thumb along the lines of his wrist in what he hopes are placating motions. He sees more than feels the muscles in Tony's back and arms clench and shudder, and braces himself just in time for the man's outburst.

"Well, not anymore, can I?" Tony spits, practically shoving him off, eyes alight with fire, replacing the usual dull shadow of his pupils nowadays. "Because I'm fucking, fucking sick and this disease is slowly eating up my brain, and soon I'll be worthless," Tony yells. "Because if I can't invent things then what good am I? I'll be nothing!"

Peter steps back, tripping over his own feet, tears once again blurring his vision and Tony's twisted, almost unrecognizable face; he turns and runs away from him, crying and stumbling to his room, burying his face into the pillows and screaming out all of the painful emotions swelling deep in him, uncontrollable sobs so loud and violent he thinks his chest's about to explode.

There's treatments, of course, cures and claims of all sorts to rid the human brain of this disease; empty promises that Peter can't help but believe everytime, if only to experience the blinding exhilaration of hope, for something to temporarily relieve the pressure unfurling in his chest. And then they go to the most expensive medical experts money can buy, only for the doctors and professionals to stare across examination tables with pity in their eyes as they tell Peter that there's no real cure, only the slowing of the diseases' inevitable progression.

We'll try their best, they all promise grimly, every single time-- more for Peter's sake rather than Tony's now.

"What the fuck?!" Tony exclaims, and Peter immediately drops the bottles of pills in his hands to rush to the kitchen, heart slamming erratically against his ribcage, bracing himself for the worst. He's greeted with the sight of Tony standing amongst the shattered remnants of a mug, fists clenched by his side, jaw set as he stares right at a terrified-looking Steve. His eyes dart around wildly before landing on Peter, and he looks a breath short of hyperventilating. "Dear," Peter tries consoling, but he's cut off by Tony.

"What are you doing here? Why, why-" Tony's face is ashen as he stares at the Captain, clearly gripped by blind panic. "Who...?"

"That's Steve," Peter steps over to him carefully so as not to spook the man, his movements slow and in Tony's direct line of gaze. Gently he reaches out to lay a light hand on Tony's arm, ignoring the stab of hurt he feels when Tony yanks away from his grip. "It's Captain America. Steve, he's staying over this week."

A scoff. "Captain America is dead."

Peter flicks a pointed gaze to Steve, who lowers his head and slips away silently, leaving the two of them in the kitchen. Tony's more confused than anything now, all the anger gone. He looks tired. When Peter hesitantly brushes a shard of glass off Tony's wrist he doesn't flinch away this time.

"He's an Avenger, remember?" He says softly. "We all are. Well, were, I guess. At one point in time. You, too."

Tony's expression doesn't change. "I'm not anything like him."

"Well, you're Iron Man."

There's a pregnant pause, and a spike of blind fear shoots through Peter. No, no... Tony frowns, then looks up at him. Confused chocolate-brown eyes meet his, and Peter's worst suspicions are confirmed. "I don't know... I'm not. That. I'm-- uh, I don't know," Tony repeats, defeated. He looks apologetic as he stares down at Peter with soft eyes, as though he's aware that something's wrong but not really sure what exactly it is. The lump in Peter's throat grows larger, threatening to choke him; he has to say something.

"You're Tony Stark," Peter states quietly at last, and once he starts he can't stop, the words falling from his mouth in an endless flow. "You're in inventor. You're a hero. You're an engineer. You're Iron Man, an Avenger. You're smart-- absolutely brilliant, you're a genius and yeah you can get a little bit crappy at times but you're still the sweetest, most caring person I've ever met, and you're--"

"...Your husband," Tony interjects quietly then, startling the younger man to a stop with just those two soft words. He meets Tony's uncertain gaze. "I mean, I'm your- like. We're married, right?" he says, hesitant, almost shyly; and Peter's smiling, his lips stretching so wide it hurts and his heart's aflutter in his stomach-- he feels the exact same emotion he did all those years ago, when they shared their vows. He's crying again, he notes absently, tears slipping and falling onto his quivering lips. Nodding wordlessly, he sees Tony's face break into the same dazzling smile he's so maddeningly in love with.

"We're married? Damn, almost can't believe it. You're a real catch." He whistles, then reaches up to gently brush the hot wet tears from Peter's face. His eyes are positively sparkling now. "I'm so lucky," Tony murmurs, and Peter laughs joyously before kissing his husband slow and deep-- and just for that moment, the world was okay again; at that very moment, Peter realises that they'll be okay.

It's been eight years since the diagnosis; eight years since Peter began this long goodbye. The pills do their job, they drag out the process of Tony's illness. Some days the man will be fine, his old usual self; he'll talk about the team, or go on about thermonuclear astrophysics, the both of them sitting across a table and bantering with each other-- days when Peter will capture every single moment into his memory. And then there are other days, where Tony will refuse to talk to him, facing the wall with a blank unreadable stare, and any sort of pleading Peter will try are futile. There are days when he'll lash out, unable to control his emotions as he punches the wall repeatedly, leaving his knuckles bloody; when he'll look at Peter as though... as though he doesn't remember him. Which, no matter how painful that fact is to accept, is inevitable. Tony barely remembers who he is anymore. Why would he remember Peter?

Peter comes home late from work one day to find Tony not in bed, instead tinkering away at something in their workshop. He looks calm, at ease; and Peter almost doesn't want to disturb him. With an affectionate roll of his eyes, he goes up to the man, so preoccupied with his work he doesn't notice Peter coming over.

"What're you making?" Tony jumps at his voice, very nearly falling out of his seat, and huffs in response to Peter's soft giggle.

"How many times have I told you to not creep up on your old man?" He chastises not unkindly, shooting a playful glare at Peter. "You're gonna give me a cardiac arrest one day, sweetheart."

"Sorry. Can I sit?" Tony scoots over so that Peter can slide into the bench beside him, catching his curious gaze at the messy papers; he slides them closer to him, offering a blueprint. "See, it's for your suit. Adjustments.... new upgrades, and all that."

Peter scans over the designs, leaning into the warmth of Tony's side, then glances up at him. "Just like old times, huh?" he carefully examines Tony's scribbled notes at the side and adds softly, "these are great. The improvements are amazing, Tony. I didn't even know we needed them."

Tony shrugs good naturedly. "Guess I still have it in me."

"You certainly do."

Tony smiles tiredly in response, sighing as Peter pecks him lightly on the lips before nuzzling into his chest, resting his head on his shoulder. A hand reaches up to gently smooth his curls back, just like all those years ago when they'll cuddle on the couch and Peter will fall asleep to the soft caress of Tony's familiar touch.

"I love you, Tony," he whispers. I'm not ready to say goodbye, he adds silently to himself. "I just... no matter what happens, I'll still be here. For you." Peter swallows, chokes out the next words; his voice cracks. "Don't-- don't forget me. Okay?"

He feels Tony's chest fall, along with a sigh that ruffles his hair. He blinks up through teary eyes to meet Tony's gaze. His next words are matter on fact. "How can I forget you, when you gave me so much to remember?"

And then Tony pulls him closer, pressing a simple kiss to his forehead.

"I love you, Peter Parker. Always have, always will."

#starker #peter x tony #ironspider #spideriron #angst #drabble #short fic #asks #requests #prompts #this got way longer than intended #also i don't know anything about alzheimer's so if i got stuff wrong sorry #and i deleted the whole fic lmao has to rewrite it again i'm a klutz #sorta fluff

Can I please request a NSFW (& angsty fluff If possible) Friends with Benefits to (poly)relationship scenario for Bokuto/Kuroo/reader? Maybe where someone realizes that they want more from their current relationship but is afraid that no one else does only to find out in the end that's what they all want and they live happily ever after or something hahaha. Thanks so much!!

Heyoooo I am not dead! I have not been able to get this request out of my head! I love it so much! And if you haven’t read Chemicals Collide by Barkly…. Then I don’t know what to tell you other than you are missing out on some Grade A smut and feels, my friend… Thanks for requesting! - Admin Satori <3

Bokuto/Kuroo/S/O Poly:

It was never a plan, the three of you. It’d never been decided by one or the other, or the other. It just happened. One moment the three of you were hanging out, watching some cheesy movies, playing some terrible games…

… Then the next you’re squeezed between two hard bodies, their names falling from your lips, both their hips ramming against your much forgiving skin.

Afterward, the three of you, laying side by side, staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom - wondering how you’d gotten there, how’d they’d gotten there.

Kuroo wanted to blame the alcohol, saying the three of you were impaired.

But none of you had had anything to drink.

Bokuto wanted to point fingers at his libido, Kuroo’s libido, saying they were far too horny to be around someone as gorgeous and beautiful as you at such a late hour.

But you’d been the one to kiss them.

You knew what it was. Just friends gaining the benefit of a sexual relationship. Nothing too bad. You reasoned that a lot of people had this feeling about their friends. You were sure you’d had this feeling about some of you girl friends and boy friends while still in high school, wondering what it’d be like to just have them for a night. That’s what had happened between you, Bokuto, and Kuroo. Just a single night. Nothing more.

Only, it bloomed into something more.

Soon enough, ‘hump days’ became a thing of your life…. Their lives… Almost every Wednesday were you on top of one with the other behind, under one with the other under you, pressed between both of them, or even off to the side and enjoying them touching each other.

They never stayed long afterwards. You didn’t really want them to, either. It was awkward enough dozing in the afterglow of group sex without them trying to excuse their behavior or explain why they were rough or why they’d done the actions they had. Bokuto usually stayed a little longer than Kuroo. His large figure taking up the entirety of your fridge while he looked for something to eat - something to fill the fuel he’d just expended on you and his best friend. It was odd - having Bokuto around without Kuroo. Sometimes Kuroo would insist he stay a little longer than Bokuto, he’d put in a movie and ask you to watch it with him. His long legs stretched out over the coffee table in front of the couch.

You were grateful whenever the door closed on the last one out. Needing your peace, you wanted to be able to think through what you’d just done with your close friends. What they’d done with you. Instead of feeling grossed out by your actions, instead of feeling as if you probably needed therapy for what you’d done….

It felt right.

And while your Wednesday nights, and sometimes the weekend, were filled with their insatiable lust for you, for each other, your days were relatively normal. With them. Walking around Tokyo, window shopping for things you’d need for your apartment. Things they wanted for their apartments. It was normal. As if the three of you weren’t sweating over the other during the night. As if the three of you were absolutely nothing more than friends.

“I’ve been feeling kind of funny.”

Bokuto had been the one to pipe up about his feelings. It wasn’t anything new. Bokuto was always first to relate things to his heart. “You always feel funny, Bo… You look it, too.” Kuroo was quick to his draw, smirking over at Bokuto when the broad man let out a whine to rival a school girl.

The subject was dropped, quickly morphed into something of teasing and joking around - who looked funnier than the other. You joined in the amusement, though your mind was riddled with confusion over Bokuto’s words. ‘Feeling funny’ wasn’t far off from what you’d been feeling. Though, you chose to ignore what was happening in your chest in favor of what was happening to your body - what they would physically make you feel; Euphoria.

That night, Kuroo left a little more reluctantly, glancing at you and Bokuto from the corner of his eye, as if he were waiting for one of you to beg him back to bed. Ask him to spend the night. Bokuto had fallen asleep almost right afterwards, his head resting comfortably on your chest, his breath fanning across and tickling your now cooling skin. You weren’t used to having one of them spend the night. And you didn’t call out to Kuroo to have him come back to you.

You let him walk out of the apartment, choosing to stay silent for Bokuto’s benefit.

“So are we allowed to spend the night now?” Kuroo had brought up two days later, while the two of you were studying in the library for a Chemistry exam coming around the corner. The shock of the question had caused you to drop your pen onto the table, the light tap of it’s connection being the only noise emitted from your stillness. The lanky man raised an eyebrow at you, a small smirk pulling his lips, “You let Bokuto spend the night, right? When’s my turn?”

Clearing your throat, “Kuroo-“

“_______…” First name. That was different. His smirk remained, “We’ve slept together…. Just call me Tetsurou…. Or Tetsu.” A wink, and a soft blush was warming your cheeks.

Now you sighed, giving him a warning of a look, “Tetsurou…” The name felt odd - you weren’t used to saying his first name… but it felt right. It resonated with your heart, making it pick up speed and making your blush just a tad darker on your cheeks. Kuroo liked the color on you. “Boku-…” You cleared your throat again, “Koutarou didn’t spend the whole night. He woke up a couple of hours after you left, got his stuff, and left.”

He knew. Bokuto had told him. Had gone into great detail of how soft your chest was, how warm you felt against his body, your fingers stroking through his hair and leaving goosebumps on his back wherever you touched. Kuroo hadn’t thought anything of spending the night until after Bokuto’s retelling of the bliss he’d felt. Then Kuroo had grown jealous. Why had Bokuto been able to get some rest with you while he was out in the cold of Tokyo, on his way to an empty apartment? “Why aren’t we allowed to spend the night, then?”

You rolled your eyes, “Quit being a baby, Tetsurou… This was just for fun. It’s not a relationship.”

Kuroo chuckled, “It doesn’t have to be for friends to have sleepovers.”

After much bickering from your side, you were powerless. They’d won.

And now here you were, your arms wrapped around Bokuto’s bare shoulders while he rested his head on your chest, his arms squeezing your waist. He was lightly snoring. His eyes flickering behind his lids, black eyelashes casting shadows against the tops of his cheeks. Bokuto looked peaceful. As if he’d never had a more restful night before this. It gave you a soft warmth of pride, knowing you could give the ever trying ace of your university some sort of reprieve for his hardships. You felt a pressure around your shoulders, feeling Bokuto hum against your shoulder from the pressure against his back pressing him further into you, and you turned your head upward to see Kuroo fast asleep, his right arm under the pillow pushing it against his face, giving his hair an odd press. His other arm was thrown out around you and Bokuto, his hand pressing against Bokuto’s back to pull you two closer to his chest. He didn’t snore, thankfully, but he talked in his sleep. Mumbling your name. Bokuto’s name. And other things that you couldn’t quite make out.

But you couldn’t sleep. You lay there in the darkness of your room, having seen the lights of the early moon fade away behind your blinds, throwing your room into a deep darkness you’d never seen before. But you weren’t scared. Nor were you worried. Or concerned.

You felt… a peace. As if this predicament, this posture, this position between your two friends, your lovers, was completely natural. As natural as breathing. As natural as your heart beating twenty times faster whenever Bokuto laughed or when Kuroo genuinely smiled. And while you felt at peace, your eyes couldn’t stop the tears filling them to the brim, couldn’t stop them from rolling down your cheeks and into the pillow under your head.

You were scared. Of the future. Of what this kind of feeling meant for the three of you. For you. For Kuroo. For Bokuto. Suddenly you were reminded of Bokuto’s uneasy feelings the other day, and now you could relate to his voicing of those feelings. It wasn’t a ‘funny’ kind of feeling, as he’d put it, but for you it was more… conflicted. Worrisome.

What would you do come morning light? Hold your lovers ever closer, not wanting them to get out of bed, propose the idea of the three of you forming a relationship?

Or would you push them away? Figure out your feelings, understand why you were feeling what you were, and ultimately put a stop to whatever forming bond the three of you had started that one night many months ago?

okay…. This isn’t as NSFW as requested…. My bad…. Please let me know if you want me to redo it or add a few more details or even just write the NSFW part of this request! I’ll make it a twofer lol

#Admin Satori #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! scenario #Kuroo Tetsurou #Bokuto Koutarou #Poly #Angst #Sorta Fluff #BoKuroo #KurooBo

Imagine Prowl Being In Denial and Getting Teased For Having a Crush on You; a Cybetronian Space Pirate!

S/N:

don’t read the note at the end of this if you haven’t seen all of TFA, unless you’re okay with spoilers

pronouns were originally going to be she/her, but then i was like what the heck! Lets make it they for everyone to enjoy!!

The large TV in the Autobot base was still, a ringing noise coming from the speakers. Soon there was a click and the screen lit up to show a cybertronian decked out in a large, pirate like hat and hoop rings pierced into their audio sensors. It looked like they were on a space ship of sort, headed off to Primus knows where, but definitely away from where they stayed last night.

With a knowing smirk they answered innocently," Yellow~?"

"You stole my cutting disc?!", Prowl screamed at the screen, his circuits frying.

The mech on screen giggled," I'm a space pirate sweet spark! It's what I do!"

Before Prowl could utter a syllable (y,n) winked, blowing a kiss and hanging up. Prowl yelled beyond frustrated when the screen went black.

The black and gold bot grabbed at his helm, ready to rip his helm apart," They’re, they’re so. . .so infuriating!! I-I could just-"

"Kiss ‘em~?", Bee grinned creeping up behind him.

"Yes!", Prowl threw his cervos up not realizing what he just said. But then it clicked and his face plates immediately heated up,"Wait what? N-no!!"

Sari, who was seated on the hard sofa, gasped at the autobots reaction, seeing his metal cheek turn red," He's blushing!"

Bumblebee gently nudged her with an idiotic smile, laughing and pointing," See! I told ya he likes them!!"

Prowl went to hit him, but Bee got lucky and moved in time," I do not!"

Bulkhead jumped from foot to foot, making the room shake and clapping," Prowl likes a space pirate! Prowl likes a space pirate!"

Prowl growled in anger, but before he could lunge at the teasing bot, a chuckle from behind the group caught their attention. Optimus walked up, crossing his arms with a raised brow.

"You know, for someone so dignified I'm honestly shocked Prowl. I didn't think your Spark would beat for a pirate."

Prowl blushed harder, his fans now having to kick in to keep him cool. He placed his cervos over where his spark lie, feeling it moving at a million miles an hour. Even the blue thing inside him knew the truth here.

"I-it doesn't!", Prowl tried to disprove.

"I may be an old bot, but even I can hear your fans kid.," came Ratchets voice, an ever present smirk within the tone.

Oh great, now Ratchet was in on the teasing as well. Prowl opened his mouth, trying his best to come up with something.

"I-ugh!!"

The autobots watched as Prowl stormed off, probably to his room to try and meditate. Everyone knew that wouldn't be very easy right now though with a certain subject, or rather person, on his mind. Yes, anyone could annoy Prowl, but it took a lot to set off the ninja bot. For you, however, it was like flipping a switch. Only you could ever get him this heated and flustered!

~xXx~

(A/N: I’m crying ya’ll! I just remembered Prowl dies and I’m gonna have to see that crap again! Guess it’s great that there’s an awesome thing called AU’s, am I right?! (´；ω；`) Also I was a bit inspired to write this after watching Cutthroat Island for anyone who thinks this is a bit random, but what do i know lol)

a time, a place, a feeling

sanha/rocky, mutants!au, bin being a blunt person, meet-cute

~550 words

Sanha sighs, glancing at his watch with a frown on his face. The second hand on his watch has barely had time to sweep over a third of the clock face, betraying Sanha’s impatience. He refrains from mentally berating Moon Bin, bitterness dripping down his throat like poison.

It is rare for Sanha to put any amount of effort into his appearance, primarily because prefers to stay cooped up in his apartment, wallowing over his sorry state of being. The thing is that Sanha doesn’t like to feel, venturing into the outside world exposes him to the flavors of emotions for a myriad of strangers. They brush past him and a wave of foreign emotions and impulse rides through him. He hates it when he gleens things from strangers, drinking down their sorrows and being forced to take a journey while simultaneously inserting himself into it.

The knot of his tie is almost too close to his throat, slowly strangling him, constricting the smallest bit whenever someone crosses into his personal space and imposes their momentary preoccupation onto him. Bin knows better than to cross into Sanha’s safe space; when they were children, he would soak in the information and use it as a battering ram against Bin. He remembers Bin once scolded him about the bitter irony of being an empath with empathy for others.

Sanha rolls his shoulder, watching for the crosswalk light to change to colors and permit the horde of fast-paced people to move. Their anxious energy seeps into Sanha’s bones, letting other emotions color the shades of anxiety. A beep goes off and the crowd moves across the street.

Sanha breaks away from them, shaking off the toxicity of too many feelings at once. He makes his way to a small bakery, one that Bin promised would be fairly empty and allow him to maintain his safety bubble. The storefront is on a narrow street, barely wide enough for one car to zip through when cars are parked along the curb.

A soft ‘welcome’ from an employee signifies his entry into the bakery. He takes a deep breath of the sugary air, delighting in the emotional neutrality of the space. He spots Bin immediately and supposes that he should have suspected a guest would tag along.

Sanha skirts around the table, settling in squarely across the table from Bin, distancing himself with an unfamiliar person and the associated foreign system of emotions. Sanha could probably push himself to gauge the general demeanor of him, but Sanha rarely does any honing practices on his abilities and finds himself devoid of the desire to invade his privacy.

Bin pushes a plate with a slice of strawberry shortcake toward him. He clears his throat, “Minhyuk, this is my dear friend, Yoon Sanha. Sanha, this is Park Minhyuk.”

Sanha squints at Bin, unsure of why this introduction is necessary. He picks up his fork and quietly says, “Nice to meet you, Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk’s cheeks turn a bright shade of scarlet, and he brings a hand to his face to cover his eyes.

“What--” Sanha begins to ask.

Bin interrupts to answer the question that didn’t get past Sanha’s lips, “He sees the future and said that we all met up here.”

“Why is he blushing?”

Bin clears his throat, “Well, that’d be because he thinks you’re cute.”

“Moon Bin.” Minhyuk hisses between his teeth.

Bin exhales sharply, “Minhyuk, he’s an empath. He would have figured it out.”

i’m not sure how i feel about this one because it’s almost just sanha as a character (my weakness lol) and less so about rocky making things happen. i feel a little bad that this is mostly set up....

till next time, yehetno