#either that or he's completely offline

[moretheta]

based on this

[rabotimagines]

"First ILY" GN BOT Reader x Optimus, Jazz, Soundwave, Starscream

Summary: Who says "I love you" first in your relationship?

G1 Characters: Optimus, Jazz, Soundwave, Starscream

Genre/Theme: Romantic

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: N/A

Optimus absolutely says it first. You mean so much to him, and his frame is so full to bursting with affection for you that he can't help himself. It would happen during a quiet moment between you two. Whether, it's when you bring him a cube of energon when he's overworking himself in his office and hasn't refueled yet. Or when you're in his habsuite on his berth laying against one another and softly talking.

The warmth swells in his chassis, and his spark throbs in response. Optimus closes the distance between the two of you and presses his helm gently against your own. His em field promptly tangles together with your own, and he offlines his optics, simply enjoying the encompassing feeling of you. "I love you." Optimus murmurs and enjoys the emotional flux in your field it causes.

If you say it back to him, Optimus chuckles and pulls you closer against his own frame. His em field warming somehow further against your own. If you don't say it back, he simply pulls back to online his optics with a smile that makes his optics crinkle. "Please don't forget that." He's not offended by any means. Optimus had said it for his sake after all.

-

Jazz, surprisingly, will not say it first. Don't get it twisted. Jazz does care about you- he cares about you a lot. He's never been this serious with another mech or femme before in his function. And Jazz is affectionate with you physically and verbally he just won't say... it. So it's completely up to you to break that particular boundary in your relationship.

So when those words come out of you directed at him- Jazz has to stop whatever he was doing to focus completely right on you. Oh- oh. Affection blooms across his chassis, and it's so strong, Jazz can feel his fuel tank bubble a touch over the heat of it. Jazz is closing whatever distance between you two in nano-klicks. Doesn't matter if he's across the room or if there's obstacles. Jazz is right in front of you almost immediately. And he grabs both sides of your face before yanking you into a kiss.

Once he breaks the kiss, Jazz grins, a laugh coming out of him. Before he rests his helm against your own, letting your optics meet his visor. "I love you too" Jazz finally lets himself tell you that. His servos are still cupping the sides of your faceplate, and his digits softly brush along your kibble. After that, Jazz is letting you know he loves you often, and he's not shy about it neither.

-

Soundwave says it first. It'll be one of the days he comes back from a mission utterly exhausted. And instead of his own habsuite, he detours to yours and lets himself in. Which is how he winds up on his back with his helm in your lap. You've got a datapad in one of your servos, and the other is absentmindedly tracing his kibble from his helm to his glass. Soundwave can feel your em field gently pressing against his own frame alongside your wandering digits.

And Soundwave can feel his own spark pulsing in time with when your field reaches out to trace along him. Your expression relaxed and unbothered as you stared at your datapad. And Soundwave realizes then and there that he does love you. "Love you..." He doesn't preamble he simply states it. And your optics widen, and your attention turns down towards him.

If you repeat it back to him, Soundwave can't stop his visor from brightening. Soundwave grunts, and one of his servos finds your own, and he intertwines his digits with your own. Before he holds your cupped servo against his glass. So it's resting right above his pulsing spark. If you don't say it back to him, Soundwaves genuinely worried he'd miscalculated in his tired state. Though, in all honesty, all you need to do is either keep petting his frame and or lean down to kiss him on the temple or mask. And his worry flattens back out just like that.

-

Starscream won't say it first, and there's no chance in pit he will ever say it first. In fact, when you end up saying it first, Starscream freezes and has to take a klick to process it. And something heavy settles under his canopy and directly under his throat. And Starscream feels like he's being choked by the saccharine sensation that's suddenly breached his armor.

And you're staring right at him, waiting for his move. So Starscream does what he always does when he's outmatched and outgunned.

Starscream runs.

It's a cycle and a half before you see him again- well before he shows up again. He didn't even greet you. He simply wrapped his arms around you from behind and pressed his chassis up against your back. And he speaks.

"Say it again." You can try to play dumb or not play along, but Starscream just repeats himself.

"Say it again." You can feel the heat tether in his tone, but he doesn't get louder than before. So you do. You tell him you love him again. Starscream's em field curls over your own frame. The flush of it seeps against the dips of your plating. You can feel Starscream's engines purring softly against your back. And you know it's as close to an apology you'd be getting from him.

[revelboo]

May I please request more tfp wheeljack? Either a continuation of the story or something else you want. I just love how you write the different wheeljacks

Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please

🤣 sure!

Crooked Ways Pt 4

TFP Wheeljack x Reader

• Head lifting from your nest of pillows and blankets at a thud and soft growling that you're pretty sure is alien swearing, you suck in a sharp breath as he stumbles inside. Bleeding something faintly glowing as his shoulder scrapes the wall. Those bright optics searching until they find you and his door wings droop slightly. Like he was worried about you and it's a relief to see you. You'd thought seeing your tormentor hurt would please you. Fill you with savage glee, but instead it just leaves you oddly empty.

• "Go back to recharge," he growls, ignoring when you immediately correct him with 'sleep.' Moving past his berth, he kneels to drag out a portable medikit. And you're not listening to him, sitting up to watch what he's doing. Would like to convince himself that you're worried about him. That seeing him bleeding energon makes you unhappy. But he knows better. You're probably delighting in seeing him hurt. Sitting up to get a better vantage. "Guess it's not your lucky day, huh? I'm pretty hard to offline."

• He's come back banged up before, but never like this. Someone did some serious damage, and you watch him carry the box to the berth with you and sit on the edge. Pulling out a pen-looking thing and a roll of something. And he's ignoring you completely to worm his servos into a gap in his plating to try and reach wherever he's bleeding from before giving up and picking up the thing that you're sure isn't a pen. And trying to get the pointed end between his plating at an awkward angle, his denta gritted. Watching him struggle, you know you owe him nothing but contempt. Despise him for taking you, keeping you against your will. So why do you stand and walk over to him across the top of his berth?

• "Give it here," you say, and he hesitates as you hold out your little hands. Painfully aware of how much you hate him, so why are you offering to help him? You won't meet his optics, just waiting. "Just tell me what to do, you idiot." Spark aching as he stares at you, he knows the odds of you trying to immediately hurt him worse aren't in his favor. Those angry, hurt eyes are staring at the energon trailing down his side and slowly dripping against the berth. Wants to trust you, to pretend you care about him that this strange pull that keeps him from being able to let you go means something.

• Can feel his stare on you and you don't know why you're helping him. Had Stockholm's finally kicked in? You'd believe it, but you still hate his alien guts. And he's reaching to offer you the pen thing. It's heavy and longer than you are tall, but you can lift it with both arms wrapped around it. "Use the trigger on the side to heat the line and then apply the tape," he says, voice softer than you've ever heard it. Experimentally pressing the trigger makes the thin end of the tool glow white hot and it occurs to you that you could jab it into him as deep as you could and pull the trigger. Probably wouldn't take him out, but it would hurt. He has to realize that, too. So why is he trusting you not to?

Previous

Next

[lee-the-yeen]

Yeen's Blitzwing Headcanons!

Been going nuts about analyzing this big silly bot so here's some HC's

So, to start, I don’t think Blitzwing was one bot split in three, but two smashed together.

Blitz’s Icy face was a seeker, the off-color spaces on his cheeks even being the perfect place for where his theoretical vents would have been.

Hothead was a tanker, and while we get only one example of a “pure” tank cybertronian in TFA in the form of Warpath…

…you can see my vision here, right?

If you go with the ”split” method, no matter which face was the “original”, the other elemental power and alt mode had to come from somewhere.

But if Icy was the jet, and Hothead was the tank, where does Random come in? To answer that, I wanna get into the process of becoming a triple-changer.

The procedure could have been a way to try to make a super soldier, master of the land as well as the sky. Adding on Icy and Hothead’s elemental powers, the resulting individual would, in theory, be an unstoppable force.

If this sounds somewhat familiar, it should. A possibility for how Safeguard exists could be because the Autobots caught intel about the Triple Changer experiments. However, they would have had to make some serious adjustments since canonically, every single attempt to create a Triple Changer has either failed or ended up wildly unstable mentally. Blitzwing might even be in Megatron's inner circle purely because he’s the only “functional” Triple Changer to exist.

My thoughts for how the process goes is that not only are the frames and abilities combined into one, but their minds are combined as well.

Two consciousnesses being forced together, with all their memories and experiences preferably intact (that way your perfect soldier doesn’t have to re-learn to walk and talk), it causes an existential dissonance. Imagine being bombarded with the memories of someone else, and expected by everyone around you that they are yours now.

The resulting existential crisis burns out the processors, offlining the lucky, and maddens whoever manages to survive.

You have to be the cybertronian equivalent of drift compatible in order for it to go even decently well. Blitzy’s components were close, but not there yet.

What spared them the fate of other failed Triple Changers is a few precautions from Blackarachnia. She had the foresight to stick a third, empty processor in Blitzwing’s head to act as a buffer for the huge influx of data, as well as EMP-ing him as soon as the Existential Dissonance was occurring. This wiped the majority of his memories of his life before the procedure, but even all that wasn’t enough.

The trauma of the procedure, being torn apart and put back together again, as well as the Dissonance (whether they remember it or not), it was too much...leading Random to manifest within that empty processor.

Now, what brought me to this conclusion? Time for my amateur psychoanalysis under the cut!

To start, the expected disclaimers.

I am not a psychologist, and I do not claim to be. This whole thing is just for fun, and over-analysis of media I like is a big pastime for me. I also do not have DID, and anyone who does that has objections and/or critiques of my analysis, I fully encourage you to voice your thoughts.

Also, keep in mind that cybertronian brains likely don’t work one-to-one with how humans do, and that there’s no true equivalent to what Blitzwing is in terms of human psychology.

With that out of the way, with these headcanons in mind, Icy and Hothead are not alternate personalities in the psychological sense, seeing as they were once completely separate bots.

But Random is.

Random acts as something of a mediator or moderator for Icy and Hothead, in order to keep them somewhat balanced and working as a team. See the Jet-Tank argument, with him popping up to propose a compromise.

While all three faces can and do hold their own, to me Random especially acts as a protector. Examples being him headbutting Lugnut in ‘Lost and Found’ and his sudden change of trajectory in ‘Velocity’ (Never give up, never surrender, nevermind!). Bringing up the Jet-Tank argument again, he notably pops up while the sirens of the “autobot reinforcements” are getting closer and louder.

As for why Random pops in just to make jokes, humor is often used as a coping mechanism [he just like me fr], and not only did Blitzwing’s components go through the Triple Changer procedure, but millions of years of war. It’s no wonder, really.

And while a lot of Random’s jokes are very much “haha I’m so craaazy”, that feels like it’s more of a cry for help. Blitzwing is hyper-aware of his condition, and self depreciates as a way to cope [he just like me for realllllll :,)].

In conclusion, someone get this mech in Rung’s office, he desperately needs a psychotherapist (cyber-therapist?).

As a side note, something I really like is that, despite the nicknames for his faces in the Almanacs (that I used here mostly for clarity), Blitzwing is just referred to as Blitzwing, no matter what face is up front.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Demon Brothers - With Flirty Male Reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

So! While writing this ask I've very quickly figured out that I can't flirt for my life. Thus; this ask was translated into Headcannons instead of my original plan of a split between Headcannons and a Oneshot. I hope you enjoy this because that was a half hour of embarrassment that I can't get back. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

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☕ You're either very brave or very very stupid; there is no in between. The audacity that you have to flirt with the avatar of pride: Lucifer himself is absolutely appalling. This poor overworked demon goes through full 5 minute factory reset just to understand what the fuck you just said to him.

☕ Stop. Please, just have a normal conversation with him. It can be about literally anything— A dream you had last night, the breakfast this morning, Beel's Fangol practice, your homework, how you think he should send Mammon to rehab for his obvious Kleptomaniac tendencies... Lucifer will even indulge in speaking about those weird captioned images and short videos that you call memes; just, please... he understands that he's handsome, but make it quick; he has paperwork to do.

☕ Do you really think that you can flirt your way out of a punishment? First Asmodeus and Diavolo (after Asmodeus spent some time with him, Diavolo attempted to flirt his way out of his Princely duties to take a few hour break) and now you? Goodness, he's surrounded by idiots. You're going to give poor Lucifer gray hairs, you know.

☕ Lucifer may let you bargain your way out of facing his wrath, though. He finds the image of you being ripped from your flirtatious facade and forced to think about things that you could offer him as collateral as he patiently taps his fingers on his desk to be on of the most amusing thing he's seen in almost 200 years. He won't lie; your nervous figiting is pretty entertaining too.

☕ Though... you might want to be a little more careful going forward, lest you catch the avatar of pride on a day that he's particularly stressed; he might just take you up on one of your occasionally more... lewd flirtatious remarks. Perhaps he'll put an end to your flirtatious ways with a well deserved spanking? Lucifer is sure you wouldn't complain, given your very clear attraction to him.

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💰 You broke him; the minute those words left your lips he went completely offline. Of course; Mammon thought that you were just making fun of him at first and tried to see of you'd slip up and insult him like so many others have. However, you only doubled down and now, the poor, flustered avatar of greed can barely look you in the eyes anymore.

💰 Truthfully, Mammon can't help but compare you to Asmodeus with how seem to need to add some sort of flirtatious comment into every sentence. Though you're not as dramatic and not at all cruel like his younger brother. He doesn't see your flirting as a bad thing but he can't help but get jealous when you start flirting with his brothers, Barbatos, Lord Diavolo and that angel. You're only supposed to do that sort of thing with him! He's your first man, dammit!

💰 Flirting your way out of being roped into a money making scheme? Pretty unlikely, believe it or not. When Mammon gets a hint of money he's chasing it and no amout of compliments will get you out of being dragged along for the ride. However, you might be able to flirt your way into getting him to take all the blame when the plan inevitably fails. All you need to do is lay it on thick and he's sold. This demon is madly in love with you, he will do anything you ask and more.

💰 While your first man is okay with taking the fall for you in any situation; he expects you to nurse his sore body back to health after hanging from the rafters for 6 hours again. You'll convince Lucifer to give him back Goldie too, won't you? Of course you would, Mammon doesn't work for free, after all.

💰 Mammon may or may not practice pick-up lines in his bathroom mirror. While he's confident in the solitude of his bathroom; once he's face to face with you his anxiety skyrockets and he stumbles over his words like a drunk man trying to navigate a dark room. You have no idea what you do to him, do you?

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🎮 Sorry, he's dead. Unfortunately, you had to go and flirt with this yucky otaku demon and he keeled over and died from overheating. Leviathan blushed so violently that he liquefied his brain and he fainted right then and there, bonking his head on various objects on his way down. Ah... poor guy...

🎮 Please, please, spare this poor man, he cannot handle it. Leviathan is too precious so go easy on him or he may just never leave that little hidey hole he calls a bedroom ever again. He's not brave enough to face you when you're like that! You may be his Henry but it feels like he's gone in too deep now, he can't even look at his beloved Ruri-Chan like he used to because you wrestled your way into her place! Just what the hell are you doing to him!?

🎮 You want to escape one of his long winded rants on TSL? All you need to do is give Leviathan a lovestruck gaze and his brain is fried; then you can make your escape. Fat Chance! As if he'd ever willing let you opt out of letting him share his one of his passions with you! Malfunctioning or not; he'll keep on talking; whether it's just to continue the conversation or to distract himself from you, we still don't know. You'll let him right? Or... do you think he's just a gross otaku afterall...?

🎮 If you do ever get into trouble with Lucifer for whatever reason; just pop into Levi's room and hide under the blankets in his bathtub while he's distracted by whatever game he's playing at the time. His older brother will never find out and neither will he until he stumbles upon you when he's feeling tired after an excruciatingly long raid. Of course, even after he finds you, he won't tell a soul.

🎮 Leviathan may or may not be hoarding various cosplays of characters with flirtatious personalities that just so happen to be in your size. How he got your measurements for the alleged cosplays is information that he will take to the grave. (He actually just asked Asmodeus but he prefers to seem mysterious about for some reason...)

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📚 Are you sure you wanna do that? Do you really want to take that risk? Truthfully, Satan knows all he has to do is amusedly raise a brow and you'll be quite as a mouse. But he finds it funny that you try to hide your fear of him behind that meaningless banter that you keep spewing. He's almost immune to your antics due to his abundant knowledge of human psychology and the time that he's spent observing you... almost.

📚 You'll have to either say something very shocking or tie it in with cats somehow in order to have an effect on Satan. He hangs around Asmodeus far too often (a personal headcannon of mine is that the two are actually very close) to be very influenced by flirtatious or suggestive remarks too much anymore. Usually he'll either raise a brow at you or just send you a teasing smirk. Though if you play into his vast knowledge and offer him a risqué fact he doesn't know, he'll be very interested.

📚 Wanna try your hand at flirting your way out of being on the receiving end of one if his wrathful outbursts? Are you a fucking idiot? Do you have no self preservation instincts at all?? You best get to steppin'; or else Satan will rip your face right off in his blind rage. To be honest, if you do go and try that, you deserve what you get in return for your stupidity.

📚 If you ever get into trouble with Lucifer, all you need to do is go to Satan and he'll harbor you in his room so long as you keep your hands to yourself. Make sure to let him know whenever you plan on flirting your way out of one of his oldest brother's punishments; he'll bring himself some popcorn. Not only will he get to see you embarrass yourself, he'll also get to see you annoy Lucifer; it's a 2 for 1 deal!

📚 If you catch him in a really good mood, Satan might just flirt back at you. Resting his chin on his palm and looking at you with the softest eyes as he lets loose words so sweet you'd think he was made of sugar. He can be really suave when he wants to, he just has to be in the right mood, ya'know.

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🛍 Look, I'll be blunt; Asmodeus hangs out with literal sex demons on the daily, he's heard everything. He's the avatar of lust; he is unfazed. So when I tell you that this man immediately thinks your just wanting to either have sex or something close to it, I'm serious. There is no if, and, but or in between; you guys are either doing the sideways tango or making out. If you don't want that, don't bother flirting with him.

🛍 Asmodeus is 100% unfazed by your flirting. No matter how sweet or raunchy you get, you'll never pull a big reaction from him. It'll mostly just be little hums of acknowledgement, his well rehearsed smile or bedroom eyes. I don't know what you were expecting, to be honest.

🛍 You think you can flirt your way out of doing anything with Asmo? Haha, no, you silly little human, you.~ He'll give you an airy little giggle and then drag you along to either his bedroom or whatever place that he needed to take you originally. Sometimes he'll strait up ignore you and act like you hadn't even said anything at all. Other times he'll use his charms and make you feel guilty for even thinking about opting out of spending time with him. It's a lose, lose situation; or a win, win depending on how much you like the guy.

🛍 You think he'll let you flirt your way out of one of Lucifer's punishments? Absolutely not! Or, at least, not without him giving you a few pointers first. Truth be told, Asmodeus thinks you have almost no rizz (he still loves you regardless~♡) and as the avatar of lust, he feels like it's his job to fix that! Or... at least try.

🛍 Truthfully, Asmodeus will keep you at an arm's length (for a while until he figures out your true intentions) like he does all of his sex demon friends. He believes you only want him for what they want him for; his body and looks. He won't ever show it but it does take a toll on him. He can breath a sigh of relief when he figures out what you really want from him.

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🍔 It's like talking to a brick wall; Beelzebub doesn't get the implications of your words. And why would he? He's far too innocent and thick headed (in the sweetest way possible) to understand something like that. Why do you even want to flirt with this precious man? Are you trying to corrupt him, you heathen!?

🍔 If you want a flustered Beel, you'll have to drop the flirting all together. Say what you need to say in clear message so he can't confuse any meanings or insinuations even if he tried to. And boom. You'll get a cute, flustered giant with flushed cheeks and an angelic smile. He'll be like a school girl with a crush; shyly fiddling with his fingers and giddily shuffling in place.

🍔 Trying to flirt your way out of sharing your food with Beelzebub? Don't. Give him a portion, you stingy bitch. Flirting aside— how could have the heart to say no to this man, you monster!? Back on topic; flirting will just fly right over his head, so I wouldn't even bother. Just give him some of your food, it's not that hard. You'll get a cute, grinning avatar of gluttony out of it, so what's that harm?

🍔 You're trying to flirt your way out of a punishment from Lucifer? Well... Beel doesn't wanna make his eldest brother mad... but he also doesn't like the idea of not helping you when you need it. He's so torn! What should he do! Unfortunately for you, the poor man will be so caught up in whether he should help you or not, that Lucifer has already found you and now you're hanging from the rafters. Please don't be mad at him, he didn't mean to ignore you, it was just a really hard decision for him!

🍔 When Beelzebub "flirts", he usually offers you some sort of food item that he really wanted to eat. He'll take occasional glances to see if you've eaten it or not and to see your reaction to it so he knows what you like in the future. Accept it! Don't you dare turn down a gift from this sunshine, you'll make him sad!

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🌌 Hey, so... you remember how he killed you via snapping your spine like a toothpick. I really wouldn't recommend flirting with him in any capacity. I don't think Belphegor would appreciate you waking him up to flirt or if he's already awake, which is a rarity in it's self, he'd rather you be quite so he can nap. He's just here to use you as a pillow, not to hear you run your mouth.

🌌 The best time to "flirt" with this slightly homicidal demon is when he decides that you deserve to take a nap with him. (Read as; when he decides to sleep on your bed and use you as a pillow.) However; said flirting must be soft and sweet. Gentle praises in a soft voice. Comb your fingers through his hair. Belphie will drift off to sleep with small smile on his face. Expect him to be in a very flowery mood when he wakes up again.

🌌 You want to attempt to flirt your way out of stargazing in the attic for the nth time in a row? Sure! You do that! In fact, Belphegor thinks that your bones are looking mighty crushable right now. Don't get too ahead of yourself, he's not above physically holding onto you and keeping you in the attic until he's satisfied. You're not getting out of this one, hun.

🌌 On the run from Lucifer? Belphegor's got you covered! Just head on up to the attic while he goes to Satan for a hex he can place on the door to keep the prideful demon away. Anything to fuck with Lucifer will have him come running, so keep him informed, okay?

🌌 On some rare occasions, when you and Belphie are alone together, he can be real sweet to you. Calling you something romantic like his north star or something of the like. However, he quickly ruins the mood with an obnoxious yawn. Whether he does that on purpose or not is up to you.

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🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

What if mc was pregnant? How would the brothers act?

All fluff I presume

The brothers reaction to a pregnant MC

*lets just say MC is pregnant from the brothers/brother I'm writing about*

Lucifer

After learning of MC's pregnancy he immediately became severely overprotective. He usually was by MC's side and watched over them but now he was on high alert. He would always stop MC from doing certain things or touching certain things that had devildom issues tied to them like cursed books and potion ingredients. He also would specifically request barbatos to get MC human world food that's safe for them or any safe food really. He becomes very annoying with watching everything that MC puts in their body but it's because he cares.

Mammon

He becomes so so much clingier. Like he won't leave MC's side at all. No one really has to ask where either one is since they will be together. He also does more favors for MC. He will get them food, clothes, shoes anything to keep MC happy. He becomes very stressed when MC is outside the house of lamentation and watches everything around them for some reason thinking something terrible will happen to MC.

Levi

This is the first time he's been both scared and happy. He usually sits and admires MC's belly since he realizes he's also apart of the tiny thing growing inside MC. He gets severely happy knowing that fact. He also practically pushes MC to stay in his room getting panicky when they leave for something simple as using the restroom. He of course doesn't push anything but you can tell he just wants MC to stick by him through most of their pregnancy. He orders way too many things offline for MC and actually leaves his room so MC doesn't have to.

Satan

He was immediately concerned for the babies health. He always gives MC random items that make the baby and MC healthy and just says 'eat/drink'. He also has a giant stack of baby books for the baby to read once it's here. He becomes more soft and barely has any outburst telling himself that he wont allow his kid to see his anger control him. He also basically follows MC around as a siri for any questions they may have since he of course studies every pregnancy book he can.

Asmos

Completely overjoyed and immediately gets set on making a crib and baby clothes closet for the child. He has about 100 or so outfits and the crib is in his symbols ofc. He pampers the hell out of MC and buys as much comfort stuff as he can for MC. Stating that being pregnant shouldn't take away all comfortability. He also does MC's skincare, bodycare anything really that MC feels too tired to do.

Beel

Now if we are talking happiness this man is simply glowing with it. He has always wanted a family and now that he has one forming he immediately was a ray of sunshine. His hunger actually calming down from how happy he was. He keeps MC very well fed basically never saying no to any of Mc's weird cravings unless they are harmful. He practically carries MC everywhere not wanting Mc's body to hurt them towards the end of the day. He also has no problem being MC's pillow, couch, chair, etc.

Belphie

He is the most chill out of all the brothers. He treats MC as he used to except he is more alert. Whenever MC slightly trips or falls he's immediately there to almost catch MC then scold them for scaring him and being careless. He does interrupt his sleep schedule to see if MC is eating properly and taking care of themselves. He uses his powers to help MC fall asleep when they need it and gives MC more of his most comfortable items for them to be less sore from all the weight they will gain from the baby.

[sexycornenthusiast]

eden's garden minecraft server headcanons

Damon: Guy who loves elaborate piston doors. Thinks he's a better builder than he actually is. He and Eva take turns upgrading random stuff in each other's bases while they're offline as a show of dominance. His storage "system" has been a disaster since she was banned. Keeps finding chickens all over the place and doesn't understand where they're coming from.

Eva: Dug herself into a mountain 10,000 blocks away from everyone to build absurdly complicated redstone contraptions, none of which have much utility beyond being cool (eg. working calculator, world's most efficient pickle farm, machine that automatically launches chickens all the way to Damon's base, etc). Likes to build traps in random places. Currently serving a month long ban sentence for blowing up Wolfgang's entire base in a fit of rage (nothing survived. you can see bedrock in some places)

Wolfgang: Has been living out of Grace's basement since The Incident and spends most of his time out on quests to get her whatever items or blocks she asks him for. Building anything stresses him out because he's a perfectionist so he's pretty much embraced the homeless lifestyle.

Grace: Builds almost exclusively out of white concrete. Surprisingly good at making minigames and has recently been preoccupied trying to find the best way to build Minecraft golf. Never collects her own resources. Anything Wolfgang can't get for her, she steals from someone else's storage - usually Damon, Wenona, or Diana. She would love to steal from Eva, but Eva only has one chest with two string and a poppy.

Jett: Also makes minigames but they're kind of bad in a charming way. Claims that Mark lives with him, but Mark has never been to his base. Teamed up with Cassidy and Jean to build a subway system (ice boat tracks) between everyone's bases and has since become enamored with the idea of iceboat racing.

Mark: Does nothing but dig perfect 16x16 holes to bedrock. No beacon, no enchantments, just pure love of the game. It's stress relief for him. Anything he doesn't directly need for crafting more tools gets left behind in a chest. Every once in a while Jett comes by and throws him 4 stacks of cooked pork chops so that's all he eats. The others eventually realize that if they fence off an area and label it as 'to be cleared' he'll just show up and do it.

Cassidy: Technically the server owner but hates admining. Flexed her speedrun strats by beating the ender dragon on day one. Gave everyone a free elytra in the first week (Wenona threw hers into lava in front of her and they've been Minecraft enemies ever since). Spends most of her time either doing community projects or pranking people. Was in the middle of trying to convince Eva to help build a fully functional postal system before The Incident.

Wenona: Has a huge villager trading hall and a farm for pretty much everything. Half the server is indebted to her in some way. The true extent of her infrastructure is unknown even to her closest friends. If you visit her at the wrong time your game WILL drop to 10 fps. Has been caught online at 3 AM multiple times but always claims she was "just AFKing" (this is a lie).

Ulysses: Bad at video games. Can barely play and has a death count in the multiple hundreds. Makes a full map of the server every week or so. Whenever he isn't doing that, he just finds someone doing something interesting (usually Wenona but not always) and watches them like a personal livestream.

Ingrid: Better at the game than anyone expected and has died the least amount of times. Obsessed with armor trims and has a downright unreasonable amount of dogs. Doesn't trade with villagers but uses them as "background characters" for her medieval city build. Constantly the target of pranks like turning her house into an aquarium or encasing it in obsidian, but seems to genuinely believe her friends are just giving her gifts in silly ways.

Toshiko: Building in the same city as Ingrid but in completely different style. Somehow they've made it work. Never affected by the pranks against her basemate because the last time that happened she made them regret their entire lives. Tries and fails to hide the fact that she's afraid of the nether. Types in chat in full grammatically correct sentences complete with punctuation.

Jean: Has admin privileges and does most of the work on that front. Had the final say on Eva's punishment after The Incident. Can never stay in one area for very long and has built something unique in every one of his classmates' bases. Not all of them are aware of this fact. Has sooo many tridents and no one understands how he gets such good drop rates.

Desmond: Spawn-proofed his entire area immediately and now plays the game as a chill farming sim. Only leaves said area on special occasions. Has more food than he could ever use and doesn't care if people take it.

Eloise: Beat all the in-game bosses in a span of like a week then got bored and stopped playing (this is valid).

Kai: Built an actually really impressive castle, but it's all facade and no function (there are no lights on the inside and it doesn't even have a back). Lives in a pile of chests and shulker boxes in an open field. Can never find anything in it. Has a pink bed.

Diana: Plays with shaders. Builds beautiful landscapes like a painting in Minecraft and focuses a lot on little details and atmosphere. Loves doing interiors. Don't ask her what a repeater does because she will not know. Gets all her materials through hand-gathering and generous donations. Eva also tried to blow up her base, but she found the TNT and dug it all up, leaving behind only a few minecarts that did minimal damage.

[mythicalmisery]

Bull Rider AU: GhostxSoap

AO3

Bull rider Ghost and clueless Soap who doesn’t know the hat rule. 

Soap had a stupid smile on his face as he picked up a discarded, black cowboy hat and put it on his head while turning to Gaz. They had been heading back to their seats after a quick snack break when Soap had spotted it, unable to help himself. 

 “Ye think I can pull it off?” he asked grinning, completely unaware of the hulking figure that had appeared at his back only moments later. 

Soap froze at the deep, yet still whispered, “Don’t think that belongs to ya, mate,” spoken right beside his ear. He could feel the other’s hot breath on his skin.

His eyes went wide, pleading, as he looked at Gaz for a lifeline. His friend had the same expression reflecting back at him, unsure what to do either. Without any help from Gaz  Soap turned around.

His eyes met a broad chest clasped in a black leather vest, decorated with various patches of brands and sponsors he had never heard of. He slowly lifted his gaze to the man’s face, or at least what was showing of it. The lower half was covered in a black bandana with a skull design painted onto it.

It was real dusty and the man was clearly one of the riders competing, so Soap didn’t think twice about it. Hell, he wished he had one right now to hide his own embarrassment that was surely written all over his face.

The only thing he could make out underneath the stadium lights were amber eyes and blond lashes that matched his mop of sweat-clumped hair that stuck to his forehead. Those eyes that pinned Soap to where he stood and felt like burning flames licking at his skin.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice coming out dry and crackly despite his efforts. “Sorry mate, didn’t mean to offend anyone,” he tossed out in an attempt of easement.

He grabbed the hat off his head, stretching out his hand and offering it back to its rightful owner. The man didn’t remove his gaze from Soap once as he took his hat back. 

Soap was all too aware he had been holding his breath during the whole interaction. He was hoping the man wasn’t offended by Soap touching his property. A fight was the last thing he needed right now, especially three beers into his night. His internal panicking was interrupted by the stranger’s gruff voice.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell ya not to go ‘round touching things that don’t belong to ya?” Soap took a reflexive step back when the man took a step forward. 

He could still see Gaz out of the corner of his eye, which helped a little knowing he wasn’t alone if things went to shite. Although, he would feel really bad if he made Gaz get into an altercation and ruin their night out due to him being an idiot. 

Soap laughed nervously. “Always seemed to have a problem with authority and rules.”

That had the other raising a brow. “That right?”

There were alarm bells ringing in Soap’s head. The adrenaline pumping through his veins should have been warning enough but he never claimed to be smart. The man glanced over Soap top to bottom, as if he was assessing him. The undivided attention had goosebumps breaking out over Soap’s skin. 

He leaned in closer, invading the already non existent space between them. 

“Do ya know what the hat rule is, mate?” he asked with a smirk, like he already knew Soap didn’t.

“Uh, n-no.” Soap felt like a bumbling idiot. 

The man simply nodded at the answer he was already expecting. He lowered himself until he was looking over Soap’s left shoulder, speaking directly into his ear.

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” 

Soap could feel the heat flood his face like a dam opening. 

Oh fuck.

It was as if Soap’s mind, mouth, and pretty much whole body went offline. He couldn’t seem to get anything to work after the other man’s words had registered. Well, except maybe one body part, that seemed to be working just fine.

After standing frozen like an idiot once again for too long, he somehow managed to stoke the last dying embers of a functioning brain cell and took control over his body once again.

With a nervous laugh he took a staggered step back, his arms outstretched in a placating way. The man wasn’t angry, but fucking hell was he intimidating and Soap needed some space to breath especially after that comment. 

“Oh, well that’s.. uh.. ye know, we really should be getting back to our seats,” he spewed out while grabbing Gaz by the shoulder. Soap didn’t wait for the man to say anything else, leaving him to stand and watch as he scurried away like a coward. 

He made a beeline for their section in the stands, subtly adjusting his now uncomfortably tight pants. He glared at Gaz when he made a comment at his flustered appearance, doing his best to block out his incessant teasing. He felt like he was fifteen years old again, popping boners when the wind blew just a little too strongly.

The announcer came back on over the intercom speakers, introducing the next round of riders as they finally reached their seats. Soap did his best to try and focus on the riders in the dirt down below, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of that man’s breath on his neck, the way his voice was that deep even at a whisper, the way his eyes made his skin feel like it was lit aflame.

And as if God was playing a cruel trick on him, his gaze was drawn to the rider getting ready to mount the bull in queue. It was him. 

He couldn’t make out too many details from this far up, but he was able to spot that familiar mask on the jumbo screen hanging in the center of the arena. The man had his hat on this time. The same hat that Soap had just been wearing. He couldn’t deny it, the man looked good in it. 

The announcer chimed in, getting the crowd going. Gaz leaned over, hitting Soap’s shoulder as he whispered, “There’s your man.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth at his friend’s words. Soap glanced back up to the screen, eyes scanning until he found what he was looking for in big, bold letters. 

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

Simon. Fuck. Even his name was hot. 

He looked back down to the roping box, the bull that - Simon? Ghost? - was about to ride. It was fucking massive. He could see it already bucking and ramming the sides of the fence from up in the stands and on the screen, clearly pissed off. 

The anticipation in the arena was electric, the crowd buzzing with excitement as Ghost settled himself on the bull. While the men around him steadied him with their hands,  Soap’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t even know the man but his stomach was twisting into knots. 

He watched as Ghost adjusted his grip on the bull rope and flexed his hand, his muscles tensing under the strain displayed on the big screen.

Soap’s breath stuttered as the gate flew open, the bull exploding out into the arena twisting and bucking with raw power. Ghost moved with fluid precision; the man’s arm raised into the air, his waist snapping back and forth in perfect sync with the bull’s wild movements. Soap couldn’t tear his eyes away, completely captivated by the sight.

The crowd roared around him, cheering and shouting their encouragement as Ghost held on. Soap found himself leaning forward in his seat, his breath caught in his lungs. He silently willed Simon to stay on just a few seconds longer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the ride. Ghost leaped off the bull, landing as gracefully as one could while running from a crazed animal with horns. Soap’s heart was still pounding as he watched Ghost run back toward the gate, somehow still maintaining his casual demeanor as he climbed over. 

He watched as the rider disappeared behind the gate and out of sight. Gaz elbowed him playfully, a knowing grin on his face. “Go congratulate your cowboy, he just one first place,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Soap whipped his head to the scoreboard, eyes scanning before he saw Ghost’s name jump to the top as his points were entered. He couldn’t help the stupid smile spreading across his face. 

“Ye sure you’ll be alright?” he asked, already standing up. Gaz scoffed, “Get the fuck outta here Soap.”

Soap put his hands together in a mock prayer. “Thank you, Garrick.”

He turned around and nearly sprinted down the stairs, cursing the crowds blocking his way. He had to make it down there before the rider left.

Soap finally managed to make it down to the ground floor, booking it to the area cornered off for the riders and their crew. He got farther than he thought he would before security stopped him, asking for his pass that he clearly didn’t have. 

He tried a handful of excuses but there wasn’t any reasoning with the man. He was about to ask if he could at least pass on a message for him before he felt someone brush up against his back. 

“He’s with me.” 

Soap swallowed. That low, gravelly voice back in his ear. Right where he wanted it.

The security guard stood there a moment before he nodded at Ghost and walked away, as if Soap wasn’t even there. 

It took a herculean effort for Soap to turn around. He was very close to losing his nerve and chickening out of this whole ordeal. Hell, he didn’t know this man. What was he doing? 

“Now, what are ya doing all the way over here. Breaking more of those rules, I see,” he said forcing Soap to take a step backwards. 

Soap cleared his throat, voice coming out surprisingly steady. “Well, I figured I would congratulate the winner.”

“That so?” he asked with a tilt to his head.

Soap took a step forward in a random burst of boldness. Now or never. 

“Aye, I also think I owe ye a debt,” he punctuated by grabbing the hat off the man’s head and placing it upon his own.

Soap wasn’t sure if it was the passing headlights from the sea of cars and trailers behind them, but he swore Ghost’s eyes flashed at his words. He leaned down in a mirror image of their earlier interaction, a strained “Follow me,” was spoken in his ear.

Soap let out a deep breath as he watched the man walk away. Not ashamed to admit he enjoyed watching him as he did so. Fuck. This was happening. 

They walked through a dirt and gravel lot off to the side of the arena. Soap observed the ranchers loading the livestock back into trailers under the parking lot lights as they passed through.

They ended up on the outer edge of the lot, the closest light post was a few cars down so it wasn’t overly bright where they were. Soap nearly missed it when Ghost turned a corner around a large parked trailer. 

He followed suit, unable to stop the embarrassing yelp that left his mouth as he was thrown against the side of said trailer. All thoughts of cursing the man out disappeared when Ghost’s lips were crashing against his. The initial impact had him grunting, the sounds immediately swallowed by Ghost’s domineering mouth. 

Soap couldn’t breathe, and normally he wouldn’t have any complaints about the matter given the situation, but he was starting to get lightheaded. He reached his hands up, gripping onto that leather vest and regretfully pushed the man off of him. He gasped at the separation, greedily filling his lungs at the first opportunity.

“Air, air is good,” he wheezed out.

The bastard huffed a laughed right in Soap’s face. Between the night sky and Soap’s racing mind, he hadn’t quite registered that Ghost had taken off the bandana from earlier. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, just barely making out the details of the face currently six inches from his own. 

He was fucking beautiful. 

Soap didn’t need sunlight to come to that conclusion. He had strong features; a Roman nose that had clearly been broken one too many times and never healed quite right, full lips that had a small scar running across the bottom as if it had been split in a fist fight and never got the proper stitches. He had another scar going from his chin to his neck, the moonlight illuminating the silvery healed skin that was no doubt part of an impressive collection. 

Soap couldn’t help the heat rushing to his face when he realized how blatantly he’d been checking out the other man. To his credit, Ghost just stood there; not saying a word while letting him have his fill. 

His attention drifted back to reality when a wave of lights and shadows danced across their faces as a car drove by. Soap unconsciously grabbed onto Ghost’s vest, pulling him onto himself while trying to melt into the trailer out of fear of getting caught. 

“Relax,” Ghost whispered. 

His mouth moved down to Soap’s jaw, kissing his way across his flushed skin until he reached his ear. Soap couldn’t help the full body shutter that racked through him as the man licked up the shell of his ear before biting down on the tender cartilage.

He turned his face slightly to the right in a poor attempt at stifling his moan in Ghost’s shoulder as the other slotted his knee right between his legs. 

Fuck. He hadn’t realized just how hard he was before Ghost started grinding against him.

The friction was almost unbearable, just the right amount of pain to still be pleasurable but still not enough. “More,” he groaned out. All reservations about sounding too desperate were out the door, he needed this man. Now.

Ghost turned his head to stare directly at Soap with a smirk plastered on that stupidly handsome face. 

“Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” he teased. 

He didn’t even give Soap time to defend himself before he was reaching down to undo his belt buckle and slide his hand down Soap’s boxers. 

“Fuuuck,” Soap hissed out as Ghost gripped his cock with those rough and calloused hands. Every twist of the man’s wrist had a jolt of pleasure shooting up Soap’s spine. His hand had felt like a branding iron, scorching to the touch and Soap had no complaints over the claim.

He was full on panting now. The only air he could manage to get was what Ghost allowed him when his lips granted reprieve. 

Soap was gradually nearing his breaking point. He normally would have been embarrassed for not lasting longer, but he decided to give himself a break when he’d been sporting a semi nearly the entire second half of the event. No thanks to the bastard who currently had his tongue shoved down his throat. 

Soap hadn’t even realized the involuntary bucking of his hips, his body’s feeble attempt to get off. The shallow thrusts got quicker, insinuating his building release. Just as Soap was about to reach that blissful moment he had been craving all night, Ghost snatched his hand away and removed them from Soap’s pants entirely.

“Oh, you fuckin’ bastard,” Soap spat out at the other man. 

Ghost stood straight before clicking his tongue. “We have a debt that needs paid now don’t we, darling?” he cooed at Soap who did his best to not let the pet name affect him too much.

Soap groaned in frustration. “Then hurry the fuck up cause I’m not gonna last much longer, ya fucker,” he growled out.

Ghost shook his head at him. “Ya sure do have a mouth on ya,” he stated.

“Aye, ye can do something about it next time.” Soap didn’t really care that he just left an opening for this to occur again, mind too preoccupied on the fact his balls felt like they were about to explode. 

Ghost had that smug look back on face as he reached into his pocket for something. He pulled out a set of black keys and pressed a button, the black truck behind him flashing its lights twice before he put them back. 

“Are ye kidding me? Your car was here the whole time?,” Soap whined. 

“Sounds an awful lot like complaining, mate. Not a fan of being watched, are ya?” Ghost taunted. The way he talked to Soap like he was a child was some fucked up mix of extremely hot and infuriating. 

Soap glared at the man. “Get the fuck in the back seat. Now.” 

Despite Ghost narrowing his eyes, Soap didn’t leave any room for argument and the other man complied with no further complaints. 

Ghost climbed into the back of the truck, spreading out across the seats with his hands resting behind his head as he looked at Soap. Well, didn’t he just look like the cat who got the cream. 

God, he was fucking hot.

Soap climbed in after him without another word. With the door closed, the lights in the truck went out and the space was filled with darkness once again. Soap was straddling the man’s massive thighs, nearly hanging off the edge. It was cramped, barely any room to move but he would make it work. Had to make it work. 

“Just gonna sit there and look pretty, darling?,” Ghost snarked, breaking the silence. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Soap replied with no real heat. He reached out to undo Ghost’s belt, hoping the way his throat bobbed at the clear outline in the man’s pants wasn’t visible in the moonlight. Good lord he was massive. That earlier apprehension started to slowly creep back in and wash away his false confidence. 

Ghost made another one of those clicking sounds with his tongue that had Soap freezing his movements. When he looked up into the man’s eyes, he couldn’t help the way his stomach flipped. Ghost had a way of looking at him that sent every warning bell and nerve in his body off like a crack of lightning. Like a predator finally catching his prey after having it in its sights for too long.

“Get undressed,” Ghost demanded.

Normally, Soap would put up a fight just to be an ass, but he didn’t have much fight left in him at this point. He was so on edge, so close to finally getting off he was honestly scared what he would do just to make it happen. With nothing more than a roll of his eyes in complaint, he started undoing the buttons of his shirt. It was only a matter of minutes before Soap was spread across the man’s lap in the back seat, completely naked. 

He felt like his brain was melting. There shouldn’t have been something so hot about the fact he was completely naked and bare while Ghost hadn’t even removed so much as his hat during all this. He could feel the rough denim on the sensitive skin of his thighs, the cold buckle from the man’s belt when he leaned forward just an inch. Soap wasn’t even ashamed when he realized he had been slowly grinding himself against the man, anything to ease his burning desire.  

Ghost finally spoke up, but Soap didn’t even stop his movements. “What’s your name?” he asked with that low and rough voice. Soap’s own ego was slightly stroked, he could hear the strain in the man’s voice despite the calm demeanor he was trying to convey. 

“John, but most people call me Soap,” he breathed out. He was two seconds away from ripping the clothes off this man himself.

“Soap? What kind of nickname is that?”

“Says the man called Ghost?” he quipped back.

“Alright, I’ll give ya that one. Why don’t you go on and get yourself ready for me, darling?,” he asked, but they both knew it was another command.

Soap couldn’t help the pointed stare he threw at the man. “Ye gonna make me do all the work, is that it?”

Ghost’s lopsided smile was answer enough. “I’m not the one who picked up the hat, Johnny.”

Johnny.

Fuck, why was that so hot to hear coming from his mouth? He really needed to get this thing moving.

Soap held his fingers out in front of the man’s mouth. When all he got was a questioning look in response, he rolled his eyes and pushed them against his lips. “Suck,” was all he said, patience wearing thin now.

Ghost opened his mouth slowly, letting Soap glide his fingers over his tongue. They were probably dirty as hell, covered in germs and popcorn butter but he didn’t really care at this point. The bastard would live. 

He was mesmerized as he watched Ghost work his tongue across his fingers. His mouth was hot, but nothing compared to the flames dancing across his skin as Ghost never lost eye contact during the whole ordeal. He could probably cum from this alone.

Before that thought became reality, Soap pulled his hand back. Watching the string of spit connecting his fingers to Ghost’s mouth glisten in the moonlight. 

He cursed lowly as he gripped himself in one hand, rising slightly before reaching around. He entered himself without a fuss, moaning at the friction as he slid his fingers in further. It burned a little, Ghost’s spit only helping ease the way so much. He preened like a peacock when he felt, more like heard, the other man’s sharp inhale below him. 

He started moving with a little more urgency at that, opening himself up while rocking his body back and forth. He wasn’t overly moaning like a whore, but he wasn’t exactly trying to hold back anything either. Quite enjoying the sharp little intakes of air and jerky movements of the man beneath him. He managed to get up to three fingers before he found that particular spot inside him. This time, his moans might have been a little porn starry. Ghost finally lifted his hands at that, gripping onto Soap’s hips like he was his lifeline. 

Soap wasn’t having any of that. He swatted the man’s hands away, pushing down on his chest with the hand not currently inside him when Ghost tried to protest. “No touching,” he scolded, taking great pleasure in the frustrated look on his face. 

Ghost grunted in response, like a damn toddler who didn’t get his way. “Awww,” Soap cooed at him, “Needy little thing, aren’t ye?” he said, throwing the other man’s words against him.

Ghost narrowed his eyes at that, but didn’t complain any further. “Funny.”

“I’d like to think so,” Soap replied. 

This time, when he went to undo Ghost’s belt, he wasn’t met with any resistance. With quick movements, he had Ghost pulled out in no time. Fucking hell. Massive was an understatement. It took everything in Soap to school his emotions. He wasn’t letting this bastard know how intimidated and equally impressed he was. He must have done a shit job cause Ghost had that satisfied, smug look back on his face. He could probably read minds for all he knew.

Soap gave a few quick pumps to Ghost’s cock before he lined himself up. He froze just as the other man was about to enter him. 

“The hat,” he said. It took a while before Ghost could tear his eyes away from where Soap hovered over his cock, the words finally registering before he reached up and placed his hat on Soap’s sweat-slicked mohawk. 

They were both burning up, feeling like a damn sauna in the backseat of the truck. The windows had fogged up a while ago as they swapped air in the small space, thankfully providing a thin form of privacy. 

Soap smiled as he adjusted the hat with one hand, the other still lining Ghost up as he slowly lowered himself down. 

Fuck.

They both moaned in chorus as Soap’s still too-tight heat enveloped Ghost’s cock. He sunk lower and lower at a glacial pace, letting gravity do the work and take some of the strain off his shaky legs.

He bottomed out eventually, resting on Ghost’s hips as he caught his breath. Ghost was panting below him, chest heaving as his body was strung tight with tension. Soap knew the man was dying to take control. Too fucking bad.

When Soap’s world wasn’t spinning anymore, he lifted himself back up before repeating the process all over again while setting a steady pace. He wasn’t going very fast, but he didn’t really need to. Ghost was so big that he reached all the spots he needed him too, the stretch and burn sending bolts shooting up his spine was enough for him.

He gripped tightly onto Ghost’s leather vest with his right hand, his own make shift bull rope as his left held onto the black hat resting on his head. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Ghost, but he still had to lean and bend at a weird angle to fit in the cramped space. He started to pick up a little speed, his movements mimicking Ghost’s from when he rode the bull earlier. Soap snapped his own hips back and forth, occasionally grinding down in a circular motion that had Ghost groaning unabashedly. 

He wasn’t normally one to be overly cocky, but he basked in the satisfaction of ruining this man. That calm and collected demeanor washed away by the panting, barely held back animal beneath him. Hell, he was equally just as ruined. He couldn’t contain the little punched out moans that escaped every time Ghost hit his prostate on each rock backward. He wouldn’t last a minute longer and judging by the shaking man before him, he wasn’t the only one. 

“S-Simon, pleaaase,” Soap groaned out between moans. He tried to convey everything he was thinking and wanted in that one word. Ghost being the mind reader he was picked up on it without dropping a beat. Like he was waiting for it.

He immediately grabbed onto Soap’s hips with enough force to bruise. Fuck, Soap wished they would. With one last glance at the man below him, Soap closed his eyes as Ghost started jackhammering into him. The car was a symphony of curses, moans, and grunts. Neither man holding back now. Soap removed his hand from the hat and pushed it against the ceiling, trying desperately to find purchase and not fall over. The rough movements had the sweat from his forehead running down his face, beads dropping onto Ghost’s chest off his nose and chin. He couldn’t find a single fiber of his being that cared.

His end was nearing and he wasn’t going to deny it this time. “Fuuuck, don’t s-stop,” he moaned as Ghost abused his prostate at the angle they were in. If Ghost decided now was a good time to tease the man, Soap would probably end up committing murder.

He could tell Ghost was almost at his breaking point as well. The man’s thrusts started to become wild, losing all sense of coordination as he chased his release. Soap screamed out when Ghost lifted his hand off his hip and grabbed his cock, pumping it in an off beat against his thrusts, never allowing Soap a second of reprieve from overwhelming sensation. 

“Go on, cum for me, Johnny,” he rasped out. Who was Soap to deny him?

Soap’s whole body seized as Ghost slammed into that bundle of nerves harder than he’d done all night. It felt like lightning was shooting through his body as his vision whited out. He didn’t even feel bad that he made a mess all over Ghost’s vest, too blissed out to even care. Ghost lasted around three and a half thrusts more before he was following Soap over the edge as well, cursing his name as he did. It was the best thing Soap had ever heard in his life. He responded with a groan as he felt Ghost empty out inside him. The feeling making his own spent cock twitch in response. Round two was not an option currently on the table. Soap felt like rolling over on the floor right there and taking a twenty hour nap after this. He didn’t think Ghost would mind very much.

They sat there for a few minutes, chests heaving and skin sweaty where they were still connected. Soap started looking around, his eyes scanning the man’s truck before he found what he was looking for in the center console. He popped the lid off and held it between his teeth as he unzipped Ghost’s soiled vest and unbuttoned his shirt. He ignored the curious eyes watching his movements. With the man’s chest now bear, Soap moved the marker to scribble out his number in his chicken scratch. He pulled back, looking down at his work with a satisfied expression as he capped the marker and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Give me a call next time you’re in town, cowboy,” he said as he slowly raised himself off of Ghost’s softening cock. 

He wasn’t sure if the man had even heard him. His attention drawn to where he pulled out of Soap, his cum slowly starting to drip down his thighs. It was gonna be an uncomfortable ride home. He glanced around and grabbed his discarded clothes, doing his best to put them back on in the limited space. Ghost just sat there watching him, lounging across his backseat without a care in the world. 

Soap finally managed to put his shoes back on, pulling out his phone and ordering an Uber ride. He turned down Ghost’s offer to drive him home, he needed to get away from the man so his brain wasn’t mush anymore. With one last glance around, he leaned over Ghost on his knees. 

“Ye know, I like this hat. I think it’s mine now,” he stated.

“That so?” Ghost asked as he looked up at Soap.

“Yeah, it’s mine. Ye know what that means?” 

“What?” Ghost responded, genuinely curious. 

Soap lifted up the hat before lowering down, placing it back onto Ghost’s head as he whispered low in his ear. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Soap didn’t say anything else as he exited the vehicle. The smile was uncontrollable as he walked across the gravel lot back to the car pick up zone.

 A man with a short circuiting brain laid in the backseat of his car behind him.

[whoo0isthatgrl]

“You, Offline”

# 1. unassigned assigned seats

TAGS: can give slight secondhand embarrassment, lol.

prologue. next. masterlist.

You were prepared this time.

You got to the library early, coffee in hand, and claimed your usual spot—third table from the left, window seat, prime studying real estate. Your laptop, notebooks, and highlighters were arranged with the precision of someone marking their territory. If Law wanted to steal your table again, he’d have to find another victim.

Twenty minutes later, you heard footsteps. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

He stopped in front of the table, his gaze flicking to the empty seat across from you. The air between you was thick with unspoken annoyance—you could feel it settling in like a silent challenge.

Slowly, deliberately, you reached for your phone and opened Twitter. Typing and hitting send without so much as glancing up. A few seconds later, the chair scraped against the floor. He was sitting down. Of course he was.

You bit back a smile, keeping your eyes on your phone. Doom scrolling the explorer page instead of focusing on your laptops screen where your essay remained unfinished before the notification popped up.

1 like.

You blinked, looking again at the notification. Normally you wouldn’t pay attention to who’s liking or commenting, but the account that liked your newly posted tweet….. its name and user, was too specific to ignore.

not law (@trflgr.lw) had liked your tweet.

Your head snapped up, but he was already flipping through his textbook, completely unaffected. As if he hadn’t just exposed himself as someone who had not only seen your tweet but had been lurking long enough to engage with it. Meanwhile, a small storm brews in your mind. Maybe you’re reading into this too much. Either way you couldn’t help the small sense of embarrassment creeping in your stomach.

Shaking the thought away, you turn back to your screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing out a new tweet

There. Safer. No direct confrontation this time.

You let out a quiet sigh and try to refocus on your notes. But you can’t help it. Your mind drifted back to the small ‘ping’ sound coming from the notification on your phone. You glance at it again.

1 like.

Another one. From him.

Your breath catches slightly, and you quickly tap the notification away before it can distract you further. A few minutes pass. You steal another glance at him—just for a second. But this time, he’s not looking at his book. He’s looking at you. It’s brief, but enough to make your heartbeat pick up. You quickly turn back to your notes, suddenly hyper-aware of every movement. You reach for your coffee, trying to shake the feeling, when his voice cuts through the quiet. Low. Even. Not unfriendly.

“Do you always tweet in the middle of studying?”

You stiffen slightly. Is he teasing? Or is he actually curious? You glance up at him, trying to act casual.

“I mean… yeah. Kinda. Helps me reset my brain or something.” You shrug, tapping your pen against the table. “Or maybe it’s just procrastination. Either way, it works. Sometimes.”

Law doesn’t respond right away, and for a second, you swear you can feel his gaze lingering. Then, in his usual flat tone, he simply says, “Huh. Interesting.”

It’s not much. But it’s something.

[sightseertrespasser]

AHHH! That’s so good! And you’re so right about the language barriers and misunderstandings making things even more complicated. I also propose adding these little things if it suits you:

Jazz and Bluestreak would definitely figure things out faster, probably even hit it off despite the less-than-ideal circumstances. They’re working out the best way to get to the mechas, chatting as they go (Bluestreak asking his questions, Jazz asking some of his own when he gets the chance), and seeing how the other is a pretty important person to Prowl. From the way they both talk about and describe Prowl, each would realize how the other has helped Prowl. And maybe they’d each see different versions of him; Jazz would learn more about how he was before Bluestreak “died” and Bluestreak would get a glimpse of how his brother is now. And it’s just funny to imagine that they’d both form an alliance against Tarantulas. So what if he’s the scientist currently keeping Prowl alive? There’re plenty of other brilliant scientists (both human and Cybertronian) who could be the key to remedying the side effects of mecha piloting. Bluestreak could mention some of the Cybertronian scientists/medics who helped him (such as when the Twins first found out that his mecha was literally his life support), and now that there’s the possibility of getting Prowl to those allies once they escape from the Quints, things aren’t looking as bad now. That is, until Blue mentions that he’s still traveling with the Twins.

Now, while Jazz might not know every single Cybertronian, the Twins are two that he definitely knows of. From what he knows of their reputation, he can only worry about how things might escalate if they encounter Prowl. Because while they aren’t always the easiest to get along with, those they tolerate (or maybe even consider as comrades) will have solid allies (maybe even friends). So following that line of thought, he starts piecing together that if they react similarly to Prowl like how he did with Bluestreak things are just going to get a bit more hectic. He can only imagine what the Twins might try to do to help Prowl, and he can absolutely imagine what Prowl will do if unknown Cybertronians try to interact with him. This all just adds a little more motivation for him to reunite the brothers faster.

Meanwhile, the complete breakdowns of the trio who have no means of communicating at all.

Prowl, who’s been totally stunned by seeing his brother’s mecha, is pulled out of his stupor when he sees the Twins approach. There’s some weird noises coming from the two shapes that enter the room, but he’s fine so long as he’s quiet. He could’ve been hiding (if he was about to enter what he thought was his mecha) when Sunny and Sides get to the room. Then one appears to be prying open the chassis where the pilot should be—where his brother could be (because why else would there be an offline, upright mecha in an enemy ship if not for technical difficulties? he thinks hopefully…) Now he’s beset by the thought that these shapes could be the enemy, that maybe they’re here to retrieve his brother from the offline mecha; he’s starting to move, because he will not lose his brother again. Except the other shape somehow finds him and he’s snatched from the ground. He’s put under literal spotlights, and he can’t see if his brother’s been discovered or not, but he sure as heck won’t go down without a fight. The shapes are still making weird sounds, but he’s drowning it out with his yelling and he’s fighting back as well as he can. He’s never been this close to Quintessons before, but if he can fight out of their grip he’ll have a better chance of surviving once he’s free. He just needs to buy more time either for his brother (if he really is there, which he has to be because why else is his mecha there?) or for Jazz to get to his position.

The Twins, on the other hand, would absolutely be concerned when they find Prowl. They’re trying to locate Bluestreak and they finally get a read on an organic lifeform. The Quint ship jams some of their sensors so they can only get a general read on the location, but it’s a good sign when they see the familiar mecha. Sunstreaker starts to inspect the mecha when Sideswipe finds Prowl, and he’s not at all prepared for the resistance Prowl’s giving him. He’s trying to calm him down when Sunny finally joins them, and they’re both staring at Prowl trying to figure out what could be wrong. They know just how messed up Quintesson experiments can get, so now they’re trying to find any signs of it on Prowl. They’re probably spiraling into the what-ifs about all this, since how else could Bluestreak manage to survive outside the mecha? But they don't know what to do now except make sure Prowl doesn’t fall from so high up with all his kicking. The Twins might even start bickering in the middle of all this trying to figure out their next course of action. So with the yelling and cursing in English and the arguing and swearing in Cybertronian, that one room becomes the epitome of chaos.

Cue Jazz and Bluestreak entering the scene. Maybe Jazz would be carrying Blue on his shoulder, and the moment they both hear the yelling and fighting (in languages they both understand) they’re already dashing to the room in question. And from here there’s so many ways to take this too! Like imagine the stunned silence when the trio in the room hear words they actually understand, and from voices they recognize. Or if the reunion is cut short because this group now has to fight their way out. And of course there’s going to be some sort of reunion (either cut short or not) between Prowl and Bluestreak.

Just a fun little thing for the eventual meeting Jazz (in English): Prowl, they’re friendlies! It’s okay! Bluestreak (in Cybertronian): Sunny, Sides! That’s my brother! Please be careful with him! Sunstreaker, Sideswipe: O_O Bluestreak (in English): Hi Prowl! I’m right here and those two definitely didn’t kill me, so you don’t have to waste your time trying to hunt them to the ends of the universe! Also, I missed you lots and I’m so glad to see you; we definitely gotta catch up when we’re not on a Quintesson ship! By the way, that’s Sunstreaker and Sideswipe! Prowl: *Prowl.exe has stopped working*

Lots of screaming and then lots of relief is the name of the game.

Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe also have the benefit of being three extremely dangerous mechs, so when they get to see Prowl and Bluestreak drop into sync, they’ll understand exactly how hyper competent they really are.

[mejaemin]

como te quiero yo - h.js

chapter one ˖⁺‧₊˚✦

wc ✿₊⊹ 1.3k

synopsis ✿₊⊹ the relationship between rising artist joshua hong and you, popular beauty influencer, has finally come to light. this story follows you and your lover, living life happily despite whatever anyone says in the outside world.

warnings ✿₊⊹ established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of hate/criticism, this is not an idol au, allusions to breaking up, it doesn’t happen tho !!! i love love and writing this made me feel single

author's note ✿₊⊹ happy birthday to shua !!! ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ i love this man so bad its not even funny. i couldn’t put it into words even if i tried. here’s a little something to celebrate his day ♡ it’s a little sad for a birthday gift so maybe (maybe) i’ll write smth happier for a proper one ??? until now enjoy this !!!

main masterlist | ctqy masterlist

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

it’s been just under two weeks since you and joshua have publicly announced your relationship and he’s already gone offline. it took months of discussion and procrastination out of fear, but with the support of both your teams, you decided to go public. it’s been almost a year since you got together, and it only feels right to say something. not everyone was happy, but you backed the decision up with the very unapologetic fact that you both were adults, fully developed ones at that, and to say either of you to really be single at this age would be a lie.

to say that joshua’s nerves were completely under control, you’d be lying. it’s not that he’s worried about disappointing anyone (though that’s still upsetting for him to think about), it’s more about the chance of fans not accepting it. they can whine and complain all they want, but for them to do so and then additionally ignore or stop being a fan would break his heart. it was already iffy for him to do something like this so early in his career, so for him to try something like this was quite dangerous.

don’t even get him started on you. you’ve already been popular on the internet for a while, and had millions of supporters across all platforms. you were loved by many, enough to feel comfortable with sharing the news. you waited for joshua to be ready, however, out of respect. when you first got together you revealed that you were no longer single, and for his own comfortability you kept it at that. ever supportive of his feelings, you stayed patient and waited for him to be ready to reveal whatever else he wanted to.

contrary to him, you were handling it well. with lots of experience, you were able to keep calm and ignore everyone’s negative comments. there were a few times where you were upset by comments towards your relationship, but again you weren’t afraid to clap back. joshua stayed silent, still afraid of upsetting anyone, but through the many couple photos and replies on live streams, you made sure everyone knew you weren’t quitting because a few people were unhappy.

enduring the past few weeks of this is what led you to where you are now, sitting across from each other at the dinner table of your shared home in silence as you eat. joshua’s non-dominant arm is stretched across the table holding your hand, his thumb leaving comforting strokes on the back of your palm. when you look at where you’re connected, the silver bracelet matching your own glimmers under the soft lighting of your dining room.

you’re really trying your hardest to stay strong for your lover, but it’s hard when you worry so much, especially with how he has yet to let you in. this is why you stay dead silent while eating, sacrificing your regular chitchat to make sure you don’t break. however, joshua puts his fork down and speaks up, calling your name in a soft whisper.

when you look up, he continues. “do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

you’re about to ask what he means when his eyes flicker to your bracelets and back up. the tears pool on your waterline as you respond. “us? of course we are, joshua. are you really thinking what i think you are?” the hurt in your voice couldn’t be hidden even if you tried.

his eyes widen and he immediately begins shaking his head. “n- no, baby, of course not. i just.. was now the right time?” when you finally manage to clear the tears in your eyes and look at him, he’s got a troubled look in his eyes as he bites at his lip.

you let go of his hand so you can get out of your seat. walking over to stand between his legs, you cradle his face in your palms and pull his lip from his teeth with your thumb. on instinct he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your stomach. you run your finger over his bottom lip, gliding over the teeth marks and reddened spots from being bitten at. you lean down to kiss his forehead, returning to your previous position to run your fingers through his hair.

your face is so full of love, trying so hard to show him how real your feelings are. your hands caress his skin with utmost care, knowing him well enough to be sure of the fact that there’s so much doubt and anxiety in his head that needs help being removed. he’s still new to this lifestyle, and so you coddle him that much more as he makes his adjustment. unfortunately, the start of his career was not so kind to him. you can only hope it gets better.

after a few beats of silence, joshua hides his face in your stomach, and you keep quiet to continue massaging his scalp. just a minute later you feel water begin to seep through your shirt, and his body shudders as he cries silently. you pull away, kneeling in front of him.

the sight in front of you makes your heart hurt, seeing the way he’s avoiding eye contact as tears continue to run down his cheeks. you bring your hands to either side of his face, thumbs gliding across his skin gently while wiping tears away.

“oh, love…” you start. just hearing your words has his head dipping down into his hands, his emotions getting the best of him.

you get up, leading him to your shared bedroom. laying down first, you invite him into your arms before covering your bodies in the comforter. he lays there on your chest for a few moments before clearing his throat, having calmed down.

“i just.. can’t stop reading comments, and i’m-“ he pauses, taking a deep breath. you return to stroking his hair, holding him close to your chest. “i’m worried that they’re right.”

you kiss his crown. “about what?”

“they think you could do better. that you could find someone bigger than me.” he speaks softly, almost mumbling.

“that’s not true, you know that.” you’re immediately shooting the idea down, refusing to let it even become something bigger.

“but seriously. i’m an inconvenience to you. if you were with someone who was as popular as you, you’d probably get support. but everyone’s mad because i’m just some random guy.” he’s sitting up now, looking into your eyes. it’s always been a thing for him to speak with you directly about serious things.

you grab his hands, holding them tightly in your own. the little magnet attached to the end of your bracelets comes together, and you can’t help but smile at it. “you’re not just some random guy, you’re my amazing boyfriend who could never ever be an inconvenience to me. i don’t care about how popular you are, because you make me feel so happy. you’re literally everything i could ever ask for, and truthfully, i’d rather have you than anyone of my status because they’re all assholes.”

he nods, choosing to stay silent. you squeeze his hands in silent reassurance, and he does the same. you speak up once again, “you don’t inconvenience me. you make my life infinitely better, shua. please don’t listen to them, okay?”

he takes one hand away to wipe his eyes one last time before looking at you, smiling softly. “okay.” he pulls you into a hug, your heart-shaped magnets splitting, your real ones connecting in your embrace. “thank you so much darling, for everything. i’m very lucky to have you.”

you pull your head away to kiss him, soft and full of love. “of course, love. i’ll always be here for you, and we’ll survive this. i’ll make sure of it.”

he hums, not responding in favor of keeping you in his arms. you stay just like that for the rest of the night, in each other’s arms. it started out rough, but ended so much better. words of affirmation are all that were needed to begin the process of healing wounds, and it proves that you’re right. nobody is being inconvenienced, and your love runs deep enough to prove that this is only a minor road bump, and everything will smooth out in the near future.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

taglist ✿₊⊹ empty… 💔

[revelboo]

Here is my dog Butch for who likes to stick its tongue out but incredibly afraid of little ants. I named him after the the dog in tom and jerry hehehe. May we get another chapter of 'Everything is alright'?

Aww! Cutie!

xD Shocky is assuming the human still has the original new spark and that it’s Star’s kid. He’s not figured out there are two sparklings or that Megs is now a mommy. The one Megs has just needs spark merging, but Soundwave’s new spark the reader has needs nanites and spark bonding both.

Everything Is Alright Pt 158

Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Be that as it may,” Megatron growls, voice low and colder than you’ve ever heard it as he stares at you in Starscream’s hand, expression blanking. And he’s sitting on Starscream’s berth like he has every right to be here. Know he’s just delighting in messing with Star just like how he can’t seem to stop himself from saying shitty things to you if Star’s around just to try and get a rise out of you. “I don’t think either of you can make me leave,” Megatron adds, picking up your blanket and rubbing it between his servos.

• Venting in your lingering scent, he’s not sure why Starscream’s words bother him. It’s not like he cares what the Seeker thinks. But the way you’re looking at him? Hates that disgusted look on your face, like you can’t stand him sometimes. Hates the vulnerable way it makes him feel even more. Weakness is death, knows that. Learned it in the mines then had it reinforced in the gladiatorial matches. Soft things like you, dreams of a family aren’t meant for him and he knows it. “Why are you like this?” You ask, sounding more tired than like you expect an actual answer.

• “What do you expect from someone with his background?” Starscream grumbles, refusing to sit anywhere near the warlord and risk him trying to take you. And Megatron bares his denta in a cold smile. Knows that a comment like that would normally warrant him losing a wing, getting beaten to the point of being in danger of offlining, but Megatron can’t risk that anymore and they both know it. He’s safe from Megatron because of you.

• “You had no issue with my background when you pledged your and your trine’s undying loyalty to me,” Megatron says, optics locking on you as he talks to Star. You hear Star’s wings lift in affront with a shush of sound, but you can’t look away from Megatron. “But we all know how little your loyalty is worth.” There it is, swallowing a groan, you know they’re about to get into it again. That hatred between them a living thing.

• “You betrayed me first,” Starscream snarls, wings flaring. ‘If you’re going to start screaming at each other, put me down over on the desk or take me to Soundwave, please,’ you say, sounding so exhausted he immediately feels guilty. Venting in aggravation, because he doesn’t want to upset or stress you, he sits down heavily at his desk, back to Megatron. “You made us all a promise you knew you couldn’t deliver,” he mutters, rubbing a servo apologetically against your cheek. The warmth of you helping calm him, even though that old hurt is never going to completely go away. Or be forgiven.

Previous

Next

[yan-randomfandom]

Bruticus x Mech!Reader

synopsis: you, a lone neutral in the middle of war, suddenly find an unconscious combiner on your doorstep. a/n: guess who my fav combiner is (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠) also mistakes are everywhere 'round here,, that's a warning

— 🪫

Being a neutral in Cybertronian war, even if it may seem mundane, is not something to be taken lightly—knowing that you have no guaranteed protection, every mech for themselves, and energon nowhere near a silver platter.

At least, that's how it is for you. Not only are you a neutral, but you also travel alone, avoiding companionship from even fellow neutrals.

— Your cycle had been going smoothly. Supplies traded, objectives met, everything functioning with ease.

That is, until you returned to homebase, and out of nowhere—a gigantic, collapsed combiner sprawled in front of the entrance. Lamely blocking your path. Face-first on the ground too.

Narrowing your optics at the strange sight, your guard rises higher and higher. You listen to the low purrs of their engines, faint enough to be dormant. There is nothing else in your surroundings to be heard but the distant hum of the fallen Iacon. Then it should be safe, you suppose? No other hidden sparks?

You can't see their symbol—but slag, Primus knows you don't give a flying klik on which fraction they came from. Autobot, Decepticon, all the same to you at this point. This isn't a neutral either; there are deep scratches and burns on their frame, the telltale signs of war.

Which is why you completely avoided the sleeping combiner, fast-walking around its frame until you reached your front door.

They will have someone coming for them soon enough. A combiner isn't something to lose so easily.

You look around your base for good measure, deeming it satisfactory in the disguise department. It blends with the structures around it—half-destroyed thanks to the combiner. Whatever. Good enough. No one should suspect a thing. Sure, you do have other bases, but it would be so annoying if they spot you—maybe it'd even the end of your spark.

...

There's a low rumble. Quickly, you turn around, powering up your weapon—

You tense at the combiner's large, red optics. His head now turned, a relentless gaze boring into you.

For a few kliks, he only stares unblinkingly, almost making you believe he’s malfunctioning.

"Don't... hurt Bruticus," he says suddenly, a raspy voice deep and slow, like it's taking everything in him to speak.

Gritting your denta, you shut the entrance close on him. Well, then, you have to start packing this base up. Not safe anymore.

Either way, they should be gone tomorrow.

— 💤

Bruticus is, in fact, not gone.

A cycle has already passed. You opened the door with all hope that he's been retrieved—but no. He's still lying there, head in the same position as when he startled you, optics presently offline. Must still be in recharge.

You bite back an irritated scream; this is nothing but a sign of trouble. Bruticus is clearly in pain, though, so something must be severely damaged to the mechs that make him up themselves. Maybe—you don't really know much about combiners.

Still, you can't afford scrap about whatever happened to them. You step around the frame again and go forward on your cycle—to gather some moving crates.

It’s a quick trip, but maybe he'll be gone once you come back.

— 📦

He's still here.

Stepping around him again, at this point, there's no point in bothering anymore. While your sensors show no one else nearby, that could change in an instant. You have to abandon this base, the sense of urgency skyrocketing in your processor.

Except you slowly take a moment to look back.

His optics are online. You jolt from surprise, your crates fumbling in your arms, suddenly feeling very exposed under his stare.

"You—"

"...Where is Bruticus?"

You pause. The question catches you off-guard. "What?"

"Bruticus can't... move," he says, followed by a long groan escaping his engine.

"I'm sure someone will come find you," you murmur, ignoring the guilt bubbling in your spark.

"I am abandoned," he grunts. "Exiled."

...

... Frag.

You drop everything and walk inside your base.

Then, you come back out, medical supplies in your servos.

— 🪫

(cut-off) bonus:

You were saving these for yourself but nevermind then. Looking up, he's still staring at you with those big old eyes. Slag it.

Slowly, you begin to take steps forward.

The conbiner vents a heavy sigh. "Go away. Bruticus don't want you here—!"

"Relax, big bot," you say calmly, holding up one free servo. "I'm here to help. I won't hurt you. This is a medkit, see?"

— it's short because i KNOW the mistakes and i dont want to expand on it rip

— L moment of me its so skill issue im sorry bruticus i love you

[hoiststowline]

sunstreaker x reader

[tw//: mentions of injury]

The silence is overrun by the slamming of the exterior door, the panel crunching against the wall in an impatient manner. Suddenly terrified, you jump to attention, as the noise echos down the corridor. It isn't what you initially expected, but a fear forms in the pit of your stomach and crawls up to your throat, evoking a gasp of surprise.

A boisterous return was typical with the result of some sort of victory, but that depended on who, as well as the current state of affairs. While you had been taught that even the smallest success deserved celebrations, this was unlike any arrival you've ever borne witness to, incomparable to a triumph. This was the exact opposite, a deafening quiet aside from a sporadic shuffle of steps, a sound that overpowers the dread to ask what's going on, or what happened.

Heavy footfalls become increasingly sparse as if the mech in question could not keep balance, sluggish in stride. In a frenzied scramble, you can't quite make it to the floor fast enough, only halfway across the metal flooring before the interior panel hisses over.

After the bot on the other side punches the keypad, there stood Sunstreaker, about a yard between the two of you, one hand splayed across his lower abdomen as if to hold the energon in. His unoccupied hand would hold most of his weight up, grabbing the doorframe so tightly he'd warped the metal, unconcerned by his grip.

Eyes now jumped wide, you struggle to find a question to ask that isn't insensitive or downright counterproductive. The yellow mech hauls himself into the room, and with such an erratic movement, more lifeforce spills from his wound, a grunt leaving his saturated lips.

"Ratchet." He finally addresses you after a hasty scan of the empty command center, a flare of more annoyance than usual.

"Isn't here," You squeak, palms raised frantically as if it would help, and before you can even offer he rasps another name.

"Hoist." More urgent, staring you down as you catch his knees begin to buckle, anger brewing in exchange as to why you're just standing there and not getting help.

With a brave step forward, you swallow the horror that was wrapped around your throat like a vice and get your point across in one sentence. "Nobody is here, I can call-"

"No time," Casting the undeserved frustration aside, Sunstreaker ultimately collapses to his knees before propping his upper body against the nearest wall. A shaky ex-vent escapes him, helm tilting backward until it hits the metal, words stumbled and partially warbled. "Ever...use a blow torch?"

"What?!" Most definitely not helping, you can't help the exasperation that filters into your reply. It only takes three long seconds to realize he is serious, a softer look in his optics as he looks down your way with stuttering cogs. "No, I most certainly have not!"

"Gonna learn today." He laughs, spits of magenta exuding down his chin at the action.

Even at that sight, you balk at the suggestion, unimpressed by his stupid question. "Sunstreaker, I'll do more damage before I even get close to helping you."

“Either you use a blow torch,” He wheezes. “Or I offline here. Make up your...mind, but do it quickly."

Sunstreaker watches you disappear around the corner without another word, gait hurried yet he can't quite focus, optics shuttering far too frequently. It could have been minutes or hours before you returned, yet he comes to life once more at the clicking noise of the blow torch.

"You better stay awake," You grumble, walking around the pooling energon on the floor. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Words m'sure every...patient wants to hear," Sunstreaker grumbles, uncharacteristically pensive.

Nonetheless, he carefully walks you through what was injured and what you needed to bind back together. You are silent the entire time, patiently waiting for instruction after each step was completed. If he trailed off or his words slurred, you would smack at his chassis to bring his attention back to reality. Recharge sounded so good, but if he was being entirely honest with himself anything sounded better than surviving this pain while conscious.

Briefly, it crosses his processor if he's finally asked too much of you, done enough damage to your relationship that its become irreparable. Sunstreaker had come to terms a while ago with the fact that his relationship with you had been in a rough patch for far too long, and he had done nothing to fix it. Perhaps he didn't go out of his way to display that he really did like you and your company, but he was never the best at articulating that vocally.

"You better have Hoist or Ratchet look at this when they get back," You mumble, taking a step rearward to gauge your work. It's somewhat crude and nowhere near professional, but the energon stopped dribbling from the wound and that was enough to satisfy you. It seemingly pleased Sunstreaker as well, evidently, as he released the tension from his frame with a single exhale.

"Thank you." He huffs, concerned that he misses your warm touch to his plating. It was almost comforting, though the feeling was sparse as consciousness slipped through is digits.

"Good enough?" You press, acknowledging his 'thank you' with the simple raise of your brow.

"I'll live." Sunstreaker confirms, looking down your way with a half-lidded exhausted stare.

It's none of your business, but since he was half-lucid you pressed your luck. "What were you doing?"

"I won't subject you to that."

Taking that as your cue to leave him be and try to get him some real help, you pivot off one foot to walk away. Not getting very far, something weakly pinches the fabric of your sweatshirt, wordlessly pleading you to stay.

"Ratchet just comm'd he's on his way back." It's rushed, and even as you try to spin to address him, his slack won't loosen on your sweatshirt. "Stay. Please?"

Sunstreaker makes his own rules, and while most of the time you found yourself toeing, if not crossing his imaginary line, he allowed it. He could make you think that he hated you, and it wouldn't be true, not in the slightest. Surrendering to his vulnerableness was a tremendous feat, but he pushed everything aside and blamed it on his fatigue. Somewhere, somehow, his processor understood that he needed your presence, and was willing to swallow his pride to ask for it.

While still unable to tell if he hated you or not, you could comprehend when someone just didn't want to be alone. You'd like to think the two of you were friends, but if you ever brought it up, he'd scoff and roll his optics, shutting down the idea faster than the hurt it caused arrived. Perhaps it was for show, maybe it wasn't- but you were in no position to deny his request with how simple it was.

"Okay." You nod, moving around to his uninjured side to settle next to him on the floor, knees drawn to your chest. Now tucked beneath his arm, you sit in silence once more, the only sound is his inner systems humming in attempts to get him to cool down.

[wellfine]

What kind of plant do you think each Straw Hat would be? Feel free to ignore this results in an unrelenting deep dive into plants.

Oh I love little thought experiments like this LET'S SEE 🪴

Luffy: Sunflower! In my mind he's associated with them pretty heavily but I guess not actually lol? Thousand Sunny is more associated with them. But he did wear them that one time... Anyway I think he'd be a giant freaky fasciated sunflower where the seed head streeeetches like rubber and he's always turned to the sun (which may be a myth for actual sunflowers, which only makes it creepier that he does that)

Zoro: A real-life marimo for sure! Those things are so cute. I would have one as a pet but I think they're actually an invasive species here. Anyway aquatic plant life and moss in general is really interesting and looks so beautiful underwater, he would totally just be chilling down there

Nami: A lucky tangerine tree that brings you prosperity 🍊🧧

Usopp: I think a pitcher plant! Or a Venus fly-trap? Maybe a rafflesia... or caltrop, the one that drops the little arena hazards lol... There are too many options for Usopp! But I also think something humble but beautiful like a daisy. Or maybe a dandelion, considered a weed by some but whimsical and auspicious by others, and either way, will always bounce back!

Sanji: Sea grapes... maybe that's silly... I think he'd love it though... it's a little more poetic/beautiful than any other kind of seaweed and it's kind of foodie-adjacent. He could bloom in the All Blue... and mermaids could turn him into seagrape wine

Chopper: You might think a cherry blossom tree! But I actually think he'd be a willow. Willow bark contains a chemical with a similar effect to aspirin and was a very important medical tool/discovery, and I can imagine deer eating the young bark and leaves. He could also be a sarsparilla plant - which was originally also used as a medicine but is now enjoyed as a delicious sweet treat which Choppy would love!

Robin: It's tempting to say something like Belladonna or something else used as a poison because she's such a witchy assassin-coded woman... but I think she might be the cherry blossom tree. With a million gnarled but beautiful limbs

Franky: Kola nut tree 👍Or a giant Redwood

Brook: If we're including mushrooms within the purview of "plants" here then I think he'd be a dead man's fingers mushroom. Otherwise maybe a Night Queen... there's just something ghostly but beautiful about them. Or a peach tree for that sweet 🍑

Jinbe: Lotus flower 🪷

(From the same anon:) What would your favorite characters be internet famous for?

Luffy: Definitely think any modern!AU Luffy would be a short form content influencer who got famous for just doing the most ridiculous stunts, eating three tablespoons of cinnamon when nobody asked him to, and for generally agitating cops

Zoro: Zoro himself is terminally offline but has become something of an internet cryptid for his ability to appear in the background of other people's completely unrelated livestreams. Disneyland? Grand Canyon? Live flood news footage? Holy shit it's that hot green hair guy again

Nami: 🤫💰

Usopp: Usopp has "streamer" written all over him. I mean it's just that one colour spread isn't it. He probably manages Nami's OF as well and they do a bunch of joint streams. Reaction clips of him flood the internet and he probably comes up with a lot of the ideas for Luffy to follow through on too

Sanji: Normal food content I think, slowly building a following with a boost from thirsty fans haha. He would be resourceful and respectful and charming, pick fights with those dudes who violate pizza dough, and also seem to know SOMETHING about that fucking green hair guy he's not telling us

Chopper:

Brook: Soundcloud rapper

I think the other Straw Hats would keep a low profile online... but I unfortunately think Barto would be one of those ragebait influencers who just goes around pissing everyone off for no reason and being really disrespectful and inconsiderate until he happens to stumble upon the same location Luffy is filming at and has a life-changing altercation

[witchofthesouls]

Ex-retail worker sparkling, and Camian Nurse/Tarn Crossover.

Tarn would maintain untill the day he offlined, that he was simply suffering from new parent recharge deprivation when he reflexively grabed the criticaly spark stressed sparkling when it rounded a corner darting into him. Parenting Protocols simply overtook him. The entire Armada, who had been trying to catch the newspark, couldn't possibly have been correct in saying he was he was Seeker-kin. He has no idea why his conjux exvented deeply everytime she heard him say it.

You hated, absolutely hated being a sparkling. You'd had a job, an apartment, and your own wheels. Even if the job had been retail hell, your apartment was a 1 bedroom in the attic of a sketchy subdivided shithole and your car was held together with spite and chicken wire. You needed a drink, a pack of smokes and possibly to share a joint with the really old hippy who had the basement apartment. None of those things would ever be options again.

It sucked with the Autobots, who at least tried to be understanding of the situation and respect you'd been an adult closer to retirement than you were to high-school graduation let alone a baby or toddlerhood. It sucked worse with the Deceptions. Fucking Skywarp "rescued" you right before the basterds fucked off of Earth. You weren't calling Prowl or Optimus robot dad. Like hell were you calling any of the baby-crazy Seekers who you'd finaly escaped from, numb pedes and all, dad either. Especially not Skywarp or Starscream. The only one that didn't completely suck was Thundercracker; unfortunately Warp and Screamer came with him as a package deal. You felt sick with yourself for even considering the thought of calling a decepticon your dad.

That, even more than the flock of seekers who'd picked up onn our trail, was why you slammed into the pede of the biggest try-hard of a tank you'd ever seen. Incredibly purple with a Decepticon badge shaped face mask he looked like he was trying to shout to the universe he was the most Decepticon, Decepticon to ever deceive. With speed no one his size should possess he had you up to his chest purring up a storm while he took off sprinting in the direction of Hook's medbay. The purr was begining to do the weird slow calmey thing inspite of your best efforts to hold on to your righteous indignation and atempts to maul his refretibky eell armored servos and chest plate. Him kicking open the door to the medical bay snaped you out of your impending reverie. He flung back a curtain around a medical berth all the way in the back beeping, and bleeping and whiring in panic.

You saw to your immense suprise at a femme with her tits out nursing a pair of sparklings and a floating cradle pod with four other babies and toddlers snoozing away. She looked at Try-Hard like he had lost his mind. Right untill she saw you. Then she went *intense.*

Everyone would have an easier time if the ex-retailer was cyberized into a newspark rather than a sparkling because the poor soul would be incapable of running, and your frame's emotional and physical needs for a creator would trump your tightly clung devotion to some kind of independence.

Unfortunately for the Autobots and the Decepticons, you're a sparkling. A sparkling with full mobility and complete recollection of your old human life as an ex-adult of the short-lived species.

You don't have the innate innocence of the very young with little experience. Your physical appearance doesn't match your dead expression, exhaustion set deep in your protoform. It doesn't help that you feel... extremely brittle, a vulnerability that feels so raw that any mech with a tiny speck of a conscious feels driven to tuck you up.

Tarn, due to the series of ridiculous events that landed him a legal Conjunx and creatorhood, is used to wrangling tiny frames and tinier, medically delicate ones. You, unfortunately, count. His servos are sure and immovable to your squirming, even if your own immature burning spark practically grips onto his EM field, mirroring his calming, slow rotations from its jagged, spiking climb to soothe itself.

Because of your highly unstable state, Tarn immediately brings you to Nurse.

You're a very popular figure for a multitude of ridiculous reasons, and you stay with Justice Division for similarly ridiculous reasons.

You may have decided on Tarn just because his mere shadow keeps everyone away to make distant goo-goo eyes at you, but it's the Camien that sealed the deal.

It's not the easy share of information or her accounting your past self to present ordeal, but the cooking. You honestly cried when she placed a plate of real, chewable food right in front of you. It's properly seasoned as well.

Ever since you woken up as a child of a different species, you had to say goodbye to many things you'd taken for granted, like immediate anonymity, clothes, and the human concept of everything privacy.

You already relearned how to talk from once uncooperative mouth that wasn't musical notes of chirps. Working hard to reproduce the simple basics of the English alphabet as everyone had an opinion to share over the public channel of internal comms, like a real-time chat with an inability to stay invisible.

You had to mourn your old wardrobe and linens. Not only were the materials too fragile, but there was no point as you couldn't take off your newfound metal shell. No more thick, warm blankets to burrito yourself on rainy days. No more hoodies to snuggle into. No more window shopping or ordering in or anything related to textiles.

Privacy and space were mindfucks. The 'polite space' was a laughable concept to Cybertronians as the mechs had EM fields to project their energy. A door isn't a physical barrier, and it doesn't help your new body can't help but react to the smothering presences. Invasive in an indescribable way to tell another human as you end up sobbing on an Autobot's lap -usually on an Autobot officer, but Optimus takes the league as he splays out his field to hunt you down when you try to hide away and refuse to answer calls - pain in your torso subsiding along with the nausea and tremors in your limbs, numbness receding to get swallowed by a flashflood of emotional turmoil caused by 'sparkling-related trauma-response' and 'priority clash between sparkling needs and your mental age' that results in a snotty sobbing mess that forces you into a nap afterwards.

Camien Nurse is a fountain of knowledge, strangely accepting of your ordeal, and well-versed in handling the many potential differences across alien biology.

Apparently, Caminus is a colony that venerates passion in its many forms, so as a whole, they're used to dealing with foreigners and a variety of different species... including hybrids that occasionally happen.

Even the Autobots, a group that literally lived on Earth and intimately worked with humans for decades, still fumbled your adjustment. You're bitter that someone who never stepped foot on your planet (let alone your homeland) bridged the stranger nuances of cultural clashes and Cybertronian physiology and development.

The Nurse knows exactly the kind of energy to exude that simultaneously keeps the sparkling frame happy and settles your more adult mentality.

You're following more Camien lifestyle. As far as the Decepticons are concerned, you're now under the D.J.D. purview, but really, you're acting as an apprentice to the Nurse and Nickel.

You know there's something else going about Nurse as she's far too knowledgeable in many disciplines, but you can't tell if it's a Nurse-thing or a Camien-thing.

It may be a medical-professional-thing as Nurse isn't afraid to poison a guy to force them into checkups, and Nickel manages to keep the Justice Division on schedule with their maintenance.

Once it gets broken out that the Earthborn sparkling has been settled, it will open up arguments.

Tarn has a type, and it's spiteful sparks with the violent competence to back up their confidence. And you're willing to bet that Try-Hard has a kind of incestuous complex that Freud would kill to psychoanalysize as you can't help but notice the same hyperfocus he gives his Conjunx... is the same he gives Megatron. And you know it because you're perched on the mech's shoulders (and you didn't fight it as other mechs still tried to get your space, so Tarn is providing the height and presence for you to play 'keep away') in the shitstorm when the Autobots demand to see you, and it degrades into a massive argument between Nurse and Ratchet. You can't understand the words as they switched to Neocybex, but it's vicious and cutting as Nurse bares her teeth, doorwings splayed high and wide, and Ratchet doesn't explode with a hot temper. He's calm, his tone chilly and frigid with the tundra-cold optics.

You're not a Decepticon. You don't want to be a Decepticon, but no one will drop you back on Earth. Silently, you don't want to return to the Autobots as no one is capable of returning you to your old self. You're currently stuck with the Decepticon Spanish Inquisition inspired by Chainsaw Massacre, Hellraiser, Dark Souls, and Blasphemous. With Addams Family domesticity as a cherry on top for the roving execution squad.

Even other Decepticons are saying... things because the Justice Division gets to keep another sparkling.

You suppress the shiver whenever Megatron, the Warlord that deemed Earth as another battleground in the endless civil war, sets his optics on you. Not as a person but lesser, a reward to shove it against other subordinates' faces over their failures, both a taunt and dismissal.

Life more or less settles in a rhythm. You had to stay under medical observation with Nurse and Nickel. Eventually, taking over Nurse's old hab, so her first clutch happily moved back into Tarn's quarters. Your newfound apprenticeship is a very hands-on one, theoretical within the practical. You're dragged (not unwillingly) to pharmacology preparation, infection control, blade care, anatomy and physiology between frame-schematics, bartering among various aliens, foraging and butchering, musical theory, regional folklore, physical regiment, and applied physics.

Finding out that Cybertronians are intersex with hardware eerily similar to humans is one thing. It was a mindbender to see a pair of really nice tiddies on the Nurse because you didn't expect more human-like secondary sexual characteristics.

You also didn't expect Helex and Tesarus to have tits as well. Theirs were rubber, more akin to bags that could be fully emptied rather than Nurse's protoform wells.

Although you've known about your current child state, Nurse actually has the time to truly impart information, answer the questions on your jumbled mind, and make time to do tests to measure your baseline in matters you never thought you've needed. Compared to Ratchet and his crew, the Nurse and Nickel only service the Justice Division, not a whole army.

You had to stare at the medbay ceiling for a long night because with the revelation of Cybertronian 'interface,' you now had to deal with that you literally felt Autobots' extremely horny 'vibes' coupling up at the home-based. And deal with the bomb that you're currently stuck with a child's body for the next hundreds of thousands of years, give or take a few millennium.

You set your sights on brewing because you stole sips of engex from various sources... and you never felt a deep disappointment that alien hard liquor was the equivalent of a mid beer. Nurse and Nickel commiserate with you. Cybertron, unfortunately, has terrible cuisine. An entire liquid diet that's basically sad rations with faint flavors.

A mech usually needs to pat you down because someone (Swindle) keeps selling you smokes.

You honestly can not believe that the Try-Hard is the only mech who gets consistently laid without a need to start a barfight, mayhem, or a generous helping of contraband.

Cybertronians as a whole seem to have a more lackadaisical idea of seclusion for a quickie because you walked into the married couple clanging away. You're more surprised that Mr. Purple Prose is actually mute in bed... and terribly impressed that Nurse is able to take in the massive spike. She's the more violent, demanding one: biting down on Tarn's neck until the scarred cables rends opens and bleeds, kicking him to urge to go faster.

Just because you have insider knowledge of the married couple's sex life that doesn't mean you spread it to the mechs that seem to crawl out of the vents for an information shakedown because the rumor mills is buckwild.

The Decepticons have a warped opinion over the bonded pair, but if anyone is getting 'ruined,' you would say it's really Tarn. You now understand 'cunt-drunk' and 'pussy-whipped' around Try-Hard's unmoderated field after a session. It's as if Tarn found a new revelation and inner peace in Nurse's valve.

Apparently, Tarn used to be far more up-tight, or so you've been told. By multiple mechs.

You're also fairly sure that Vos wants to fuck them. There's no other way to read how the mech splays himself coyly on random surfaces in a come-hither fashion. Nurse snorts or barks a laugh, whereas Tarn straightup chides the gunformer for 'inappropriate displays during work hours.'