Ghost's Princess

A/n: He's doing his best

The next morning arrived with an unusual tension that only one Cybertronian seemed to notice.

Optimus had commanded troops through impossible battles, negotiated fragile peace treaties between warring civilizations, and stared down enemies capable of extinguishing entire worlds.

Yet standing just outside the garage while watching you laugh with Bumblebee somehow proved infinitely more.....intimidating.

Jazz noticed immediately.

The silver Autobot now in the more humanized android body leaned casually against one of the support beams, sipping from a paper coffee cup someone had insisted humans carried everywhere. Whether he actually needed the coffee was beside the point. It completed the illusion of normalcy his android body was trying to project.

“You’ve been standin’ there for six minutes.”

“I have.” Optimus states, hands rigidly behind his back.

“You gonna ask her?”

“I intend to.”

“…you gonna do it....Today?”

Optimus hesitated. “I intend to.”

Jazz sighed into his coffee. “Prime.”

“I am… considering my wording.”

“Boss, you’ve been considerin’ your wording since yesterday.”

Before Optimus could answer, Ironhide wandered past carrying several ammunition crates balanced effortlessly against one shoulder. He took one look at the pair, followed Optimus’s line of sight toward you, and immediately understood.

“So?” he asked. “Did lover boy ask her yet?”

“I have not.”

Ironhide snorted. “Just walk over there.”

“It is not quite so simple.”

“It is literally that simple.”

“It is not.”

“It is.” Jazz pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know what?” Ironhide continued. “You’re overthinkin’ this.”

“I wish to ensure she feels respected.”

“And she will.”

“I wish for her to understand that my intentions are sincere.”

“She will.”

“I do not wish to make her uncomfortable.”

Ironhide stared at him for a long moment before throwing one hand into the air. “Prime, you’re the only guy I know who could turn askin’ a woman to dinner into a military campaign.”

Jazz couldn’t help but start laughing. “He’s got you there.”

Optimus looked genuinely thoughtful. “…Perhaps I have overprepared.”

“You think?”

Across the garage, you were blissfully unaware of the crisis unfolding several yards away.

Ratchet in his own humanized android form had handed you a scanner while muttering something about calibration, and you obediently followed his instructions despite understanding perhaps half of the technical explanation.

“So if this line goes into the green…”

“Good.”

“And red is…”

“Very bad.” He states, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“What happens if it turns purple?” You blinked tilting your head.

Ratchet paused. “…Do not allow it to turn purple.”

You blinked. “I appreciate how that answered absolutely nothing.”

Before Ratchet could respond, Bumblebee’s radio crackled. “Mission objective: Don’t let it become purple.”

You laughed. “Even Bee doesn’t know.”

The radio immediately switched to exaggerated game-show applause.

Sam arrived moments later carrying two sodas and far more confidence than experience.

He glanced toward Optimus, noticed the leader still standing exactly where he’d been several minutes earlier, and groaned. “Dude…”

Jazz immediately pointed at him. “No.”

“What?”

“You are not helping.”

“I was just gonna...!”

“No.”

“I learned from yesterday.” Sam protested.

“You absolutely did not.”

Sam frowned. “I kinda did.”

Jazz folded his arms. “You told a ten-million-year-old alien robot to introduce himself as ‘potential romantic partner.’”

“…When you say it out loud…”

“It gets worse every time.”

Optimus drew a slow, unnecessary breath, he had delayed long enough.

Before another interruption could present itself, he crossed the garage with measured steps that somehow felt heavier than armor.

You looked up the moment his shadow fell across the workbench as your face brightened instantly.

“Morning, Optimus.”

Every carefully rehearsed sentence vanished.

The notebook.

The crossed-out greetings.

The disastrous lessons.

Gone.

There was only you smiling at him as though seeing him was the easiest thing in the world.

“…Good morning,” he replied softly.

Something about his voice made you tilt your head.

“You okay?”

“I am.” He clasped his hands behind his back, a familiar gesture that usually accompanied battlefield briefings. Today, however, there was the faintest hint of nervousness beneath his composed posture. “I just wished to ask you something.”

“Of course.”

Across the garage, four heads slowly rose from behind various pieces of equipment.

Jazz spotted you both immediately. “Oh, no.”

Sam.

Bumblebee

Ironhide.

Even Ratchet had stopped pretending not to watch.

Jazz sighed. “We are all terrible.”

Sam shrugged. "At least it's entertaining."

Meanwhile, Optimus remained blissfully unaware of his audience.

“I have recently come to understand…” he began carefully, “…that you have never been invited on what humans consider… a proper date.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “…I may have mentioned that.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t realize anyone heard me.”

“My hearing is… rather difficult to circumvent.”

You laughed softly. “Fair enough.”

His sapphire eyes met yours,not with the unnerving, unblinking intensity Sam or any other human had once suggested, but warmly.

“I found myself thinking about your words for quite some time.”

Your eyes went wide as something fluttered unexpectedly in your chest. “You did?”

“I did.” His expression softened in a way that seemed almost vulnerable as he then continued his speech. “I have faced many difficult decisions throughout my life.” He smiled faintly, almost amused with himself. “Surprisingly… this has proven to be among the more intimidating.”

Your heart melted. “…Really?”

“You are.....very important to me.”

A simple honest answer.

“I enjoy every conversation we share. I find myself seeking opportunities to spend time in your company. When I witness your kindness toward others…” His smile grew just enough to reach his eyes. “…it reminds me that even after countless wars, goodness continues to exist.”

Warmth creeped up your neck and behind a nearby support pillar, Sam clutched Bumblebee’s hood.

“Dude,” he whispered.

Jazz elbowed him. “Quiet.”

“I am being quiet.”

“You whispered ‘dude.’”

Optimus looked down briefly before returning his gaze to yours. “I realized there was no speech I could prepare that would express my thoughts more honestly than the truth.” His voice remained gentle. “So…”

For perhaps the first time in millions of years, Optimus Prime looked genuinely uncertain, his gaze drifted away from you. “If it would make you happy…” His smile was small but unmistakably real as he finally looked into your eyes. “…would you allow me the privilege of taking you on a date?”

The entire garage seemed to stop breathing.

You stared at him for one stunned heartbeat, this was the last thing you were expecting. “You’ve been stressing over asking me?”

“…Perhaps.”

“For how long?”

“…Longer than I would prefer to admit.”

Your smile became impossibly softer. “Optimus…”

Without thinking, you reached out and took one of his large hands between both of yours.

His fingers instinctively curled ever so slightly around yours, as though afraid to hold too tightly.

“I would absolutely love to go on a date with you.”

For a fraction of a second, the ancient Autobot Commander simply stared.

Then relief swept across his face with such quiet sincerity that it transformed him.

The tension in his shoulders disappeared and behind the support pillar, Sam forgot every promise he’d made to stay quiet.

“YES!”

The shout echoed across the garage.

Everyone froze.

Sam’s eyes widened. “…Oops.”

Optimus slowly closed his eyes. “…Samuel.”

“I got excited!”

Ironhide barked out a booming laugh, Bumblebee’s radio erupted into triumphant fanfare, Ratchet muttered something about everyone in the building behaving like adolescents, and Jazz simply rubbed a hand over his face before grinning.

“I told you he’d blow it.”

Sam pointed toward the two of you, entirely unashamed. “But she said yes!”

You couldn’t stop laughing.

Neither, to your surprise, could Optimus.

The deep, warm sound rumbled from his chest as he looked down at you, your hands still wrapped around his, and in that moment every disastrous rehearsal, every terrible piece of advice, every crossed-out sentence in a discarded notebook suddenly seemed worthwhile.

Heyo

Had a weird night, needed some comfort, for some reasons the Moon Bois came to mind and this happened. 

Warnings: Living with a roommate, pretend dating speedrun into smut, all three moon bois. Sex that can be heard down the hall. idk it’s basically pwp but it made me feel better

Oh, and I really only reread it once before posting it, it might be a mess

Friends to lovers: reader x Steven Grant x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley

Anyway

There was a different kind of beauty to him when he slept: an angelic culmination of all his docility.

Nom Nom...😏😏 𓆙🐍⛓️💀🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I think realising that he was, in fact, capable of loving and being loved once would make Death a little more open to the concept of falling in love again after the agony of your absence stops consuming him like a howling miasma.

You showed him it was possible, you were the human who made a Nephilim - the oldest Nephilim - realise that love isn't some dismissible, negligible force.

He's seen you wield it as effectively as he'd wield his scythes, but there was a stark difference: You didn't know how adept you were at loving.

(Just turned 26 a week ago and have been waiting for this boi to come back since I was 12, so this ask is TOTALLY not inspired by that 👀)

Tysm for your time! ❤️

When Death felt the stubborn hammer of life come slamming down onto his chest, jerking him into the waking world once more, he was aware of only two things.

First, the Seventh Seal must have been broken. How else would he be lurching upright on the dusty ground with a raw and ragged gasp when - moments ago, it seemed - he'd been plummeting into The Well of Souls, his final glimpse of the world above centred on your face where you threw yourself to the ground at the lip of the Well, features frozen in a scream that pulled your expression taut with horror and anguish for a Horseman who'd never thought his loss would be grieved.

That was his second startling realisation.

You.

Where were you?