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jinxthequeergirl · 1 month

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The Ol switcharoo (pt3)

Stan pines x reader/ ford pines x reader

Summary: 30 years pass and you meet stanfords family.

Warning: NONE

Sorry for another short chapter. Consider this a filler episode. Chapter four should be better.

~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

30 years is a long time.

You can do a lot in that time.

You can live a lot of different lives in 30 years.

You started cutting your hair in that time, Stanford taught you to box, You'd gone on many different adventures. Most of which you often questioned the legality of, but they still made you laugh.

Now you mainly tended to the Mystery shack no more adventures, you wondered as you sat on the couch next to Stanford when you'd gotten so old. And when your life had changed so much.

You had almost forgotten all about anything before your family vacation. you and Stanford had grown into a pretty comfortable life together. You wouldn't lie you'd come to love the life you've grown into with him.

But you've also missed the adventures you used to go on, finding monsters , exploring the unknown.

But you were only met with gluing eyeballs to pieces of plastic halloween decorations and making up stories to make out of towns folk get a good laugh in.

You had tried to find Stanfords journals just to "relive the glory days" but with no luck.

You were never sure what happened to them, if he had accidentally tossed them out, if he had lost them himself or if that was part of what happened while you where away. Either way you stopped looking. You never asked about them either.

Stanford seemed to really enjoy his life with you too, you never got the idea he wanted to turn back or like he was waiting for some big adventure.

"This may sound corny but you and the mystery shack are my big adventure...I wouldn't trade you or the old shack for anything y/n. Not. For. ANYTHING."

So you stopped worrying yourself with the journals or the old research, let alone the real monsters that lurked in the woods.

You hunkered down, sold stories and bumper stickers in your matching suits and watched night time television before falling asleep on top of eachother every night.

This was the routine you'd fallen into. You found it odd if you had to sleep without Stanfords shoulder as your pillow or his jolt of laughter before he realized you fell asleep. It was odd for both of you to not debate who got giftshop duity over tour duties. (You always got gift shop.)

It was odd when a pair of twins arrived on your front lawn.

"You never talk about your family." You said following Stanford down the stairs to meet them. "Sure I do." He said clearly a little nervous.

"Mmm no...I didn't know you had a sister! Let alone great neices and nephews!..excuse us, Soos." You say almost chasing him through the gift shop almost knocking soos over.

He paused as both of you looked out the little door window at them. "Listen...I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my family... to be fair... we aren't really close..but somethings came up and-" You could see his stress building up as he tried to piece together something that made you understand how important it was to make a good impression on those kids.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here with you... you can explain it all later, but right now, I'm right by your side, like always." He smiled and placed a hand on top of yours.

Before heading outside to me, you are in tow.

"I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD A GREAT AUNT! A GRANT!? A GRRR...GRAUNT!?" The girl in the pair shouted excitedly after stan had introduced you to them.

"That's cause you don't. We aren't married y/ns a friend."

You laughed at the girl who energetically and enthusiastically introduced herself as Mable. The introduction was followed by several need to know now questions, all of which would later be scribbled onto a paper for you to fill out and return to her.

☆what's your favorite color

☆ do you like my grunkle stan?

☆if you were a magical creature, what would you be? Why? WHAT WOULD I BE? why?

☆do you LOOOOVEEE grunkle stan?

☆opinion on stickers?

"Alright, you two leys get you up to your room for the summer." Stan said, pulling Mable away from you and grabbing her bags.

You grabbed the second set of bags and followed stan and the two kids.

"Dipper, right?" You asked the boy who fell in line with you "oh yea! Yep that's me!" He laughed nervously.

"Very cool name,I like your hat by the way." You prayed you didn't seem like you were trying too hard to get them to like you.

"So you and grunkle stan run this place?" Dipper asked, looking at all your hot glue collages as Stanford decided to give them the grand tour before their room.

"Yup." You nodded.

"What's the point? Isn't this all fake? I mean... I can see the string on the invisible man's glasses." He said pointing out the attraction as you passed.

"Oh c'mon Dipper, how could you not love the jackalope!? Is he a deer? Is he a rabbit? I can't tell!" Mable said, carrying the creature in her arms like a teddy bear.

"I just don't get it? Why lie to people when I'm sure there has to be something real out there!"

You smiled at him. He sounded like you when you were a kid...he sounded more like Stanford before the shack. "You like the supernatural?" You asked.

"Oh yea, dippers a huge nerd he loves all that junk!" Mable said punching her brother in the shoulder.

"Oh, here we go! Don't get this one started on mystery and supernatural boogie men!" Stanford said, stopping to join your conversation.

"Y/n used to be big on hunting and looking for stuff like this." He said, wrapping his arm around you. "Used too...I haven't in over 30 years...it got too complicated." You opted to give them a simple answer as to why you stopped.

"Really!? That's so cool!" Dipper exclaimed. "If you ever need someone to go on adventures with, you can trust me."

Over the upcoming weeks, it was slightly rocky with the kids getting settled in, but eventually, they started warming up to the shack as well as yourself and Stanford.

You were quite pleased to have their company, actually. You felt something change in your everyday lives when they entered the shack.

"Depending on who you ask." You said continuing your story as you placed plates in front of the kids. "Your grunkle and I are married." The kids gasped. "Only through some silly machine in Vegas it wasn't real there was this one time -"

Stan chuckled to himself as you told the story of your fake marriage in Vegas as he watched the three of you laugh in the kitchen.

He smiled. Watching you frantically move your arms to further dramatice the story, a certain shine he'd noticed had been missing from your eyes for a few years now. You had it when he'd met you.

The same day, he knew things would be different for him. They HAD been different. You accepted him for everything he was. You went along with his crazy shenanigans. You gave up a whole life for him.

He remembered the birthday parties you had thrown for him. Even if you were the only person to be there for him.

He knew after a few years of you doing so that you would always be the only one there. He had the strangest feeling the night of his 35 birthday when he realized this.

He lied awake in bed, staring at the ceiling when it occurred to him what the feeling was.

"Oh no."

He quietly snuck away from you and the kids, still hearing your laughter erupt through the house behind him. He made his way into the darkened gift shop and punched a code into the vending machine, and went down to the basement he swore to you he'd destroyed.

30 years, and all he had offered you was lies. After all you'd done for him after all the care you'd shown him after all you had sacrificed. He just wanted you to have a normal life. A good life.

Not something he had fabricated.

He spent most of his time thinking about the large machine that still sat in his basement, the other half worrying about you. If he was giving a good life if he was soing as good a job being in your life as you had done for him.

He worried about what might happen when, IF he was able to pull of bringing his brother back.

How would you react to being lied to for 30 years. Maybe you did really feel the same way he had felt about you for years and you would forgive him.

In order for that to work, he'd have to actually admit his feelings to you.

He wanted to, he also wanted do a lot more for you in the 30 years you'd been together but always failed before he could make a move or do anything really. He pushed aside a notepad filled with ideas of kind gestures he could do for you (most of which were crossed out) and replaced the space with the journal Ford had left him.

He would get it right.

All of it.

Eventually.

Then again.

He could always ask Mable.

While you laughed with two kids at a dinner table and Stanley beat himself up about lying and tried to rebuild his life.

The real Stanford pines sat out there amongst the stars with nothing but a creased photo of the two of you and wondered why it was taking you so long to find him.

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~

Taglist:

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@mckennaishere07

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@babydoll-143

@fanficcrow

@slay-thou-pookie

@bandaids-n-porceline

#gravity falls x reader #ford pines x reader #stan pines x reader #stanley pines x reader #stanford pines x reader

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callsign-datura · 8 months

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Both you and ghost hiding feelings for each other until you make a decision on a mission that saves his life but nearly results in you getting killed. Argument leads to angry sex that melts into soft gentle adoring sex

About A Girl

A/N: anon this is my favorite ask of all time pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader, reader's callsign is raven synopsis: ghost gets hurt, you cover it and nearly get yourself killed. he doesn't want to lose you. Simon "Ghost" Riley doesn't make mistakes. Not when he's stressed, not when he's under pressure, not when people are looking up to him. He doesn't make mistakes, and that's just who he is. When he looks at you and his heart thrums in his chest, he gets distracted. When he feels that tickly feeling in his stomach whenever you look up at him with those eyes of yours, he feels something. And to him, those things and feelings are what cause mistakes. And Simon "Ghost" Riley doesn't make mistakes.

"You're gonna be getting intel from a cartel-run trading port together." Price's voice is low and hoarse as he twirls a pen in his hand before tapping it against the edge of his desk. Ghost's tall, menacing form stands beside you, his arms folding over his chest as he stands. His eyes are cold, neutral, and murky as he stares holes into Price.

You stand beside him, smaller in comparison, your hands slipped into your pockets. His presence is suffocating and to you, it feels like he's taking up the entire damn room. "Just the two of us?" Ghost asks. His voice is husky and raspy, a sexy tone that has your knees knocking. "No backup?"

"No. This'll be a mission I can only send our best on. The place is fortified and you'll be going in, finding the woman and getting the intel, and then getting your asses out of there before the entire place knows you're there. Understood?" His eyebrows rise and he looks from Ghost to you, giving you a brief nod as if he's trying to make sure you have your attention on him. Ghost doesn't say anything. He turns on his heel and starts walking towards the door, and you look at Price and utter a soft, "Understood." before following him out.

"You're leavin' tonight. Get geared up." You look back at Price and nod, and when you look forward, Ghost is already halfway down the hallway. You sigh and you go the opposite way towards the armory to get your gear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tell us where Dimitri is." Ghost's tone is terse, snapping. His words are short and cut, and even though he's not talking to you, even you feel slightly intimidated. His hands are placed flat on the table in front of him, and he leans forward on it, brown dead eyes trained on the lady tied to a chair at the other side of it. "Fuck if I'm telling you," she laughs, accent cutting through her words as she struggles against the ropes. She avoids his gaze however, her eyes cast down and away. "Look, Lana, if you tell us where the man is, we'll let you go." You're lying. Ghost glances at you and his eyes narrow briefly before he looks back at her. Lana Antonova. Russian financier working under a mysterious person named Dimitri Kulikov, the guy who's supplying the man we're looking for-- Red Spirit, a man who's at the head of a cartel. Multiple fatalities as a result of the escapades he and his men went on, including the murder of one of our informants. "I'm not telling you!" She hisses, jerking her body against the ropes. Her voice is shaky, and she's on the verge of breaking. Ghost sighs and pulls away from the table, pacing at the far end of the room. You approach her and lean against the table with your hip, holding your rifle with one hand and putting your other hand on your hip. "Why aren't you telling us? Is it 'cause you're... involved with this man?" Lana pauses for a second, and then she scoffs, her eyes going up to yours. "...No." "You're lying again," you say, your voice taking on a higher tone, like you're mocking her. "I'm sure those ropes are uncomfortable. Tell us what we need to know and we'll release you." "No." She repeats, her gaze going back down again. She jerks against the ropes once more, and you sigh. You look back at Ghost and you see him rummaging through the various cabinets in the office. He's searching for something on her. You look back at her. "If you tell us where Dimitri is, we'll take him into custody and he'll get a lighter punishment. But if you don't tell us, we'll have to find him ourselves... and if we find him ourselves, we'll have to kill him if he gets combative. Do you want that?" Your voice is condescending, but it's obvious this gets the gears working in her head. She scoffs again and looks away. "I know you're looking for Red Spirit... I have logs on the supplies Dimitri bought. Where the supplies went, when they were bought, and when they arrived at their location. I'll tell you where those are. Just... leave Dimitri alone." You stand up straight and look at Ghost. He looks back at you and gives a nod, before coming back over. "Where are they?" "They're... in this office. In that desk." She nods with her head, and you go over to the desk and rifle through it. "It's a USB drive... insert it into a computer and it'll start a download of all the purchase logs and delivery reports." You find a small USB drive, and you hold it up. "This is it," you say, looking at Ghost. He nods again, and you put it in your pocket. He leaves the office. "Hey! Aren't you going to let me go?!" You go over to her and pick up a roll of duct tape on the table, picking it up and ripping off a strip before putting it over her mouth and smirking at her. "No chance, lady."

You turn around and jog out of the office, locking the door behind you. Ghost is waiting in the hall. He looks at you. "Got the drive?" You nod. "Good. We're going." Then he starts jogging down the hall and out the door you both came in through. You follow suit and he leads you out of the building and down the road leading to the docks at the shore. Waiting further up the shore is the patrol boat you used to get there. Halfway down the road, when you're catching up to Ghost, gunfire sounds. Your head whips back and you see about five men at the top of the road, shooting down at the both of you. You're about to start running, but you see Ghost using a wide tree as cover. He has his back to it and he has one hand on his leg like he's been injured. You turn around and return fire, taking cover behind another tree further up the road. Whenever you've taken out four of the five men, you go to Ghost's side. He's bleeding pretty bad from his leg. "Shit," you hiss. "Come on, let's go." You move to help him limp further down the road to get to the boat. "No, just go. You have the drive." he grunts. Millions of things are running through his head, and he'd rather get left behind than risk you getting injured just because you're trying to help him. Gunfire sounds, and his heart thumbs in his chest.

"If they find you, they'll kill you!" "Just go!"

"No, the boat is right there--" You take his hand and start leading him down carefully. He's limping, and it's taking some effort. You don't stop. You help him down to the boat and into it. You get in as well, and there's more gunfire. You look up as the patrol boat starts pulling away from the shore, and there are more men lined up at the cliff. He knows he should be grateful. But for some reason, he's angrier that you risked your life saving him. You don't say a word, and neither does he. He's just stewing in his own anger, packing his wound. He shouldn't be angry at you. But god, he is. He's pissed that you'd even think about risking your life for him. For some reason, he's angry that he was more worried about you getting shot trying to help him than he was worried about the thought of you possibly leaving him behind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's a few days later. You waited to talk to him in hopes some of the energy from the mission had diffused. You went to his room, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. He was sitting inside, on his bed, reading a book. He was doing better now, and the injury he sustained on the mission was a graze from a bullet and a pretty badly sprained ankle. He sets the book aside and gets to his feet, going to the door with no trouble, pushing open the door and peeking out. Once he sees you, something bubbles up in his chest. It's a mix of happiness that you came to see him, guilt that you went out of your way to help him, and anger that you risked your life. He never really dealt with all of the feelings that came with the encounter. "...Hi." You say, your gaze darting down to his leg. "You're doing better, huh?" He steps back and nods, gesturing for you to come inside. "Was jus' a graze and a sprained ankle." "Explained the limping." You say, stepping into his room. It's meant to be a playful joke, but you can't tell if it landed or not as he stares at you. You swallow slightly, crossing your arms. "...We gonna talk about what happened?" He says, his voice low and raspy like usual as he leans against the wall, mimicking your body language. "What is there to talk about?" You act nonchalant. "You saved me." He says matter-of-factly, staring at you a bit harder now. "I did."

"You risked your life to do so. Why?" His tone takes on an angry note; different from how he usually sounds, and you can tell all the emotions are resurfacing. You take a step back, looking at him. "I wasn't just gonna leave you behind, Ghost, that's not what a teammate does--" "No, I'm not jus' your teammate. I'm your lieutenant, and you're supposed to do what I say. I say run, you run. I say leave, you leave." "Are you seriously pulling rank right now?" You genuinely can't believe that he's acting like this, and the look on your face must show it. He scoffs a little. "I'm not pullin' rank, I'm tellin' you that you should have listened to me." "You were telling me to leave you to die!"

"And you should have listened." He pushes himself off the wall and goes toward you. "You're my subordinate." He gets in your space, and his face is a few inches towards yours. Suddenly, you're incredibly aware of everything. The way his brown eyes focus on yours, glittering with anger, the way he leans over you, and how big his hulking frame is in comparison to you. He notices the way a blush spreads across your cheeks, and he pauses for a second. He notices that you're looking everywhere but his eyes. He glances down at your lips and he takes a step forward. "You're an idiot, s'what you are," he grunts, his eyes trained fiercely on your lips. He takes a step forward, shutting the door behind you and pushing you up against it, leaning in and reaching one hand up to pull his mask over his mouth, his other hand tilting your head to the side as he leans in and starts planting rough kisses along the span of your neck. The audacity of this man makes your chest bubble with more anger, but you can't find it in you to push him away. His kisses feel heavenly. You bring your hands to the fabric of his shirt and you ball it up in your fists tight, grunting. "Yeah, well, you're an asshole." You mumble, tilting your head and shutting your eyes as he keeps kissing your neck.

"I might be an asshole but you're still the one who risked your life for me," he grumbles, nipping at the flesh of your neck as his hands find your waist and you pull him closer. "Yeah, well, what would I do without your smartass mouth ordering me around all day?" You mumble, your voice shaky as his touch sets all your senses alight.

He scoffs under his breath and he laps his tongue over your pulse, his big hands running underneath your shirt and gripping your hips. "I'm the one with a smart mouth? You're the one talking back to your superior." He grunts, leaving a light hickey on your neck, then another, then a darker one.

A moan that's badly muffled leaves your lips. He pulls your shirt up roughly, and you lift your arms to make it easier. He throws it aside and moves on to the next article of clothing, unbuttoning your bra and throwing it to the side as his kisses trail down. Over your collarbone, towards your chest as his calloused hands run over every inch of your bare skin. "You've always been so damn reckless," he grunts, lapping his tongue over your soft flesh and leaving more hickeys as he moves down. Your head falls back against the door and your shoulders draw together as he kisses down. One of his hands moves up and he starts playing with one of your breasts as he takes your nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over it and closing his lips around it before giving a little tug on your other nipple with his thumb and pointer. His other hand is busy unbuttoning your pants, and his hand leaves your breast to pull them down around your hips as he detaches from your nipple and huffs. "So damn reckless, so damn stupid. You don't even recognize the fact you could have died trying to save me."

"I-I know damn well that I could have died, but I wasn't thinking about that at the time--" Your breath hitches as he tugs your pants and panties down around your legs. You kick your shoes off and he pulls your pants and panties off of you, leaving you entirely naked and subject to his gaze. He pulls back and his gaze roves over you, and his gaze softens just slightly before it hardens again and he stands up, leaning back into your neck and littering more hickeys there as your hands paw at his chest and tug at his shirt. You whimper whenever he takes your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head, a silent order for you to be patient. You're not having it though, and you grunt under your breath, pulling your hands free and bringing them to his shirt. He looks alarmed for a second and using his surprise against him, you pull his shirt up and off, and he grunts immediately.

"Damnit, girl," he hisses, but he lets you anyway. Your hands move to his pants and you start unbuttoning them, and he continues his ministrations as he kisses and bites your neck. One of your hands slips down his front, your eyes fluttering shut as you gently pull his cock free from the confines of his boxers. He's big. Not incredibly long, but he's thick, and heavy in your hands. You gasp and bite your bottom lip, trying to hide your satisfaction as you pump your hand around him, from base to tip. "Fuck." He hisses. He's going to stop you, but it feels too damn good to stop you just yet. Besides... this is the same thing he's dreamt about for months, and it's finally happening. He lets you continue for a few more seconds before he quickly hoists you up by your thighs, pinning you against the wall with his body.

Your gaze travels over him, taking in every inch of him. From his muscled chest, his arms, the tattoos on his arm, and then his hips-- his v-line, and his happy trail. Your gaze goes back up to his face, still partially obscured by the mask. So you reach up, tugging at the hem of it lightly to signal, 'off'. He chuckles just a little, feeling his chest swell slightly. He hesitates. His lust and that fluttery feeling in his stomach override his sense of rationality, and he lets you pull it off and throw it aside. You stare at him wide-eyed, taking in his features. He moves and grips the underside of your thighs a bit tighter, shifting a bit against you. You jolt when you feel the tip of his cock rest against your hole, and he leans forward, putting his face in your neck and slowly pushing into you. It doesn't hurt, not at all. You gasp when he sinks his cock into your heat, and your arms wrap around his neck and you cup the back of his head. He makes you feel so full, and your heart swells a little when you realize you're finally getting what you've wanted this entire time. He litters kisses and bites over your neck, his grip on your thighs tightening. He pulls his hips back, dragging his cock out of you before he bucks back into you, the head of his cock knocking against that gummy spot inside you. You mewl, tilting your head back as he bites down on that spot that makes your insides spasm on his cock.

He grunts and bucks into you once more, before adopting a smooth, rhythmic pace. He drags his cock out of you and then bucks back into you, the tip of it hitting that spot inside you each time. The sounds of wet skin on wet skin develop quickly, and he's grunting and groaning into your neck. He pulls back to look at you and his expression softens, his thrusts stuttering a bit. Your head is tilted back and your lips are parted as you whimper breathlessly, and it's like he's seeing you for the first time-- looking at you in that same loving, bewildered manner he did when you introduced yourself to him. His eyes sparkle, and a smile spreads across his lips.

"Fuckin' hell, girl... you're pretty, you know that?"

Your breath hitches whenever he addresses you so affectionately, and you lean forward to kiss him. He follows suit, and the moment your lips are on his, his hands slide up to cradle your ass as he adopts a new, quicker pace. You whimper into his mouth, and his tongue darts out to prod at your bottom lip, asking for entry. Your lips part and his tongue dips into your mouth, flicking against your own as his cock bullies into you over and over again, reaching deeper as he leans back and holds you up so your weight leans forward onto him a bit. You pull at his hair gently, teasingly, and he grunts and kisses you harder. You're moaning and whimpering. You have to pull away from the kiss to breathe, and when you do, his lips are on your neck again. Leaving dark hickeys, teeth nipping at your flesh as he pushes you up against the wall again and wraps one arm around your waist, his other hand sliding up your back and tangling in your hair, and he pulls it in retaliation to you pulling his. You whine when he does, and he bucks into you a particularly rough time, drawing another mewl from you. The way he's fucking into you has you seeing stars, and your eyes are rolling back into your head. All you can focus on is the sensation of his cock pumping into you over and over.

His grip on you tightens, and you feel his cock twitch inside you. He continues his pace, but you can tell he's getting close when he groans softly into your neck, tilting his head to nestle into your neck as he continues thrusting. You're getting close too, whining when that coil in your belly winds impossibly tight. You wrap your legs around his waist and you whimper. "Fuck, Ghost, m'close--" You feel his thrusts stutter again before he's groaning into your neck. "Say it, love." "Ghost..." You whine, your grip on his hair tightening when his thrusts suddenly cease, the pleasure fizzing away. "No, sweetheart, my real name. Say it, 'n that pretty voice of yours, and I'll consider letting you cum." You pause, and embarrassment swells in your chest, but you can feel your orgasm slipping away and you're quick to plead. "Simon, please..." "Yeah?" He chuckles quietly, kissing your cheek as he starts bucking into you again, a bit rougher this time. "You wanna cum?" You whimper in affirmation, and he whispers, "Then cum for me, sweet girl."

That's all it takes. Not even a second passes, and your walls squeeze on his cock and you're mewling as your orgasm wracks your body. His grip on you tightens and he leans in to kiss you and muffle your noises, nipping at your bottom lip as he bucks into you and buries himself into you as deeply as possible, bottoming out. You whimper when you feel ropes of his cum spill into you, and you're moaning breathlessly into his mouth and pulling his hair. (You're almost positive you told him you loved him.) He grunts and stays inside you. Your cunt spasms around him, and he grunts, withdrawing himself from your pussy. You feel just a bit of his cum dribble down your inner thighs as he slowly lowers you to the ground, littering loving little kisses over your face and running his fingers through your hair as the haziness of your orgasm fades. He guides you over to his bed and shifts you down onto it, getting himself dressed before he comes back to you with tissues in hand, wiping his cum from your inner thighs and pulling your panties back up your legs. He runs his fingers along the inner side of the hem to make sure they're in place. You're still panting, and a bit out of it from the entire experience. He pulls away and grabs one of his shirts, gently helping you put it on. You're enveloped with the scent of him, and it's a warm feeling. You feel the bed shift as his weight is added to it and he lays beside you, pulling you close and tucking your head into his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. You coo quietly and nuzzle into him in response, holding him close and tight. Your body is still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure, and being in Simon's arms has a smile spreading across your lips; one you just can't wipe off. "You know, if sprainin' my ankle and gettin' grazed by a bullet results in this... Might just do it again." "...Don't you dare."

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost cod #callsign datura

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theminecraftbee · 9 months

Text

"Well hello there Secret Keeper!" Scar says, chipper. "It's a bea-ut-i-ful day today here on the Secret Life server, and I'm here for my daily hearts for winning! I have to say, it is gorgeous today. Really a lot easier to keep the rain away without other players, what with sleeping through the night not being a problem at all! Did you know, by the way, that sleeping and rain are connected? I didn't until recently, but by golly, they sure are! Can you imagine? The world is full of so many strange things."

The Secret Keeper, being a big dumb stone statue, doesn't reply. Scar's beginning to think it's just rude. It sure replies whenever he hits the button, which is the first step in his morning routine these days. He's gotten better at dodging damage, really, even with the nearly infinite hearts! He's just not so good at dodging skeletons and creepers and such that he shouldn't top off every day.

He hits the button. He feels his health return to him. He gets a new task: Win Secret Life.

He snorts, a little bitter, to himself as he reads it and folds it into his pocket. "You know, I don't know if I'm lucky or unlucky that you're such a moron that you don't know what winning means. Your machine is broken."

No response, again, because the Secret Keeper is, as established, a big old dumb rock. Well, whatever. Besides, if he lingers on resentment and upset for too long, it might catch up with him! He's certainly let it catch up with him before. Why, a few days after he'd won, when he really had it sink in that he was for-real alone on a server covered in lightning burn marks and blood, he had a bit of a breakdown! There was sobbing, screaming, yelling at the world, the whole works! And when no one responded then, well--

"Did I just call you a moron? I'm sorry, I didn't mean that!" Scar says. "You know how I get sometimes. The world is beautiful and warm, but sometimes it gets a little hard to breathe around here! Now, where were we... oh, right! The trading post terraforming project! Now, we hit a bit of a snag the other day, what with the wandering traders I'd caught all sort of--dying--and all that, but luckily, more of them might show up any moment, and they really are vital to making the place feel alive and breathing. So today we're taking a break from that to build up some trees!"

He waves his arms like someone is listening. He'd like to imagine someone is. Grian told him he won--just because all the ghosts are quiet now doesn't mean they aren't there! And if that was a moment of temporary insanity, well, he probably--he needs to think it's not, is the thing! He absolutely needs to think it's not.

He hums and gathers more logs. His makeshift tree farms are pretty nice, if he does say so himself. He pauses as he hears distant howling and sighs. "I guess we will also be spending today cleaning up the wolf population! I swear, I have no idea what those people were thinking making a wolf spawner. A man takes a nap for a day and then the entire server is overrun with stupid white animals! And you know, I do hate having to cull the things, but, well, you know me. I've learned how to kill pretty well, I think, and really, dogs are easier to kill than people."

He grabs a sword from his chest and sharpens it. He keeps it perfectly clean so that there isn't too much blood on it. Good thing, too; most of the blood would probably be his. He's a bit clumsy, after all. He cuts his fingers on it all the time. No matter how well he bandages up his hands, he just keeps making them bleed, drip, drip, dripping blood on every path he walks down. No matter how hard he works to clean up his massive building projects, the little splatters of blood follow him, so he's sticking to dark colors where he can.

The flowers will probably show the blood, he thinks. The flowers and trees he's building. Hopefully, the blood doesn't stand out too much. It feels wrong, in a world where there are no bodies.

He stands up. He heads in the direction of today's pack of unwanted pests. He sighs. "You know, I know your question is, well gosh, Scar! All the previous winners died. When are you going to finish it off and kill yourself? And wow, that's a pretty dark question. You should be ashamed of yourself for asking, really." He laughs. It's not funny. Who cares.

Instead, he shakes his head.

"And, well, you have to understand. I'm not done building yet! I can make my base so much nicer looking! And besides, you're still handing me hearts. If I get hurt, I can just come back and get more from you! If you want to die, you have to kill me yourself. You fucking cowards!"

No response.

He sighs. "Well, that's enough of that for today. Sorry, I'm feeling kind of morose. It's all this sunshine! Can't be good for a man. Did you know populated servers rain more often than unpopulated ones? It's true! It's because people don't sleep enough. But here I am, getting all the sleep I need. Now, time to go kill some dogs and build some trees! I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon, can you?"

His hands hurt. He ignores it. He ignores a lot of hurt, these days. It's not like it's hard.

#secret life smp #goodtimeswithscar #a bee fic #implied/referenced suicide #implied/referenced self harm #SO UH. HOW ABOUT THAT SCAR NOT DYING IN THE END NONSENSE HUH.#trying to write this all very much in scar's voice was fun. dark premise. goofy guy. result: this.#also i DO love occasionally giving a character who otherwise wouldn't exactly ONE precision swear-word. very fun.

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 months

Note

"I'm competing for your attention again, aren't I?" w Art Donaldson 🙏

From the Domestic Bickering Prompt List

Sure thing!

Warnings: Established relationship, twice-divorced Art Donaldson, fluff, smooches

You've caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye two, maybe three times—but you've been so damn busy answering the usual questions that you've hardly had a chance to catch up with him. You're certain that he's been getting a healthy handful of them, too, along with a heap of sarcasm—

Will you have the ceremony on the court?

Will the bridal party be in tennis whites?

Third time's the charm, eh, Donaldson?

While you hadn't had any idea who Art was when you'd first met him, he'd been forthright with you about being twice divorced. He'd told you that his first wife had cheated on him, and his second wife had been a rebound.

"I wanna get married again," He'd admitted, "But I want this one to stick."

Now, you pass a nervous smile toward where Tashi Duncan and Patrick Zweig are in the corner of the party. They've been keeping to themselves for the most part, seeming to trade smiles and barbs between one another, and exchanged bland pleasantries with Art's family.

Art having such a close relationship with his ex-wife had unsettled you at first, but they had a child together. His bond with Patrick was just as obvious but admittedly a little more nebulous to you. But, they were important to Art, so you adjusted.

Patrick catches and holds your eye, raising his beer in a mock-toast and shooting you a wink. Tashi meets your gaze you next, her brow arched slightly as she gives you a nod. It's just enough and nearly too much all at once.

You're drawn into Art's mother's arm a moment later, giving you a squeeze as she coos over your engagement ring.

"You have to meet Alan and Edith—they're Art's godparents."

"Oh, I'd love to!"

"There you are."

You look up, doing a double-take at the sight of Art leaning in the doorway.

"Hey! Where did you put that bottle of wine that your mother brought?" You ask, scanning the crowded counter tops in Art's kitchen—well, it'll be your kitchen, too, once you're fully moved in.

"Can't that wait?"

"It must be in here somewhere."

"Honey."

"Can you check the dining room? Or—maybe we left it in the front hall?"

You hear Art sigh and expect to hear him leave, but when he doesn't budge, you turn your head to get a good look at him. His head is hanging, his thumb sliding over his left ring finger.

"...Art?"

"I'm competing for your attention again, aren't I?"

You purse your lips, rounding the counter toward him. When the two of you had begun dating, he hadn't been the only name on your dance card. When he'd told you that he wanted to be exclusive all of that had stopped, of course—but he'd made his dislike of sharing your attention very clear.

"You know it isn't the same," You remind him. "I'm not texting a Tinder fuckboy. I'm trying to find the gift that your mother very kindly brought us to make sure I stay on her good side."

"You don't need to worry about that. She loves you."

"I worry about it all the same."

"C'mere." Art reaches out, taking hold of your left hand and drawing you in. You smile as he raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the ring, and then to your knuckles. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to having to chase you down for a kiss."

"Is that what that pout's about?" You lean in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips and grinning as he raises a hand to curl around your jaw.

"I wanna leave," Art murmurs.

"What?" You frown, drawing back to get a better look at him. "Why?"

"I'm sick of the party. I'm sick of this already," He thumbs your ring. "I wanna marry you tonight. Right now."

"Art!" You laugh, "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not kidding."

"You have to be. We haven't filed for a license yet—and we still have to arrange everything."

"We'll go to Vegas. If we leave right now, get tickets at the airport, we'll get there before the marriage license bureau closes. We can file online, on the way to the airport."

"...Art," You shake your head. "You're—Seriously?"

"Seriously." His eyes search yours. "I don't want to have to wait to call you my wife."

"We can't just leave everyone here."

"They're adults, they can see themselves out."

"It would be rude."

Art sighs, looking toward the busy patio. "Alright. We'll give everyone a very polite brush-off. And then can we fly to Vegas?"

"Won't your family be disappointed?"

"I don't care about that." He pauses, a wave of concern passing across his face. "Will you be disappointed?"

"What do you mean?"

"...I've done this a couple'a times. I can do without the big white wedding. But," His brows raise as he tips his head toward you, "If you want it, we'll have it."

You consider for a few moments, glancing toward the patio.

Tonight has been such a whirlwind. You've hardly had any time to catch a breath. The politics of wedding planning can be so nerve-wracking, and you'll have those little comments, those teases of third time's the charm hanging over your head. You'll have to invite Tashi and Patrick to the wedding, and where to seat them? With Art's other friends from the Academy? Will themed drinks be expected? Some hair-brained concoction called The Grand Slam, accompanied by a toothpick with a little tennis ball on the end?

There's press coverage to be had, too. Art may not be playing right now, but that doesn't mean he isn't news. You're not ready for those cameras, the questions, the months of speculation about your dress, about Tashi's attendance—

You look up at Art, resting your hand on his chest.

"I'm going to find the bottle of wine that your mom brought. We're going to finish this party like we planned...And pack when everyone leaves. We'll go to Vegas tomorrow."

The grin that breaks across Art's face is so bright and beautiful that you have no doubt you made the right decision. The crushing force of his kiss nearly bowls you into the opposite side of the door frame.

"I love you," He murmurs.

"I know, baby. I love you, too."

#Art Donaldson x Reader #Art Donaldson x You #Art Donaldson/Reader #Art Donaldson/You #Art Donaldson fic #Art Donaldson imagine #asks #replies #anon #Domestic bickering #requests #prompts

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muxshwriting · 3 months

Text

you and i (pt. i)

Simon Basset x bridgerton!reader

summary: as Daphne's twin, you were always second to her. but then you meet someone who is only yours, completely devoted to you. nothing will come between the two of you, it is just you and him || word count: 1260 || masterlist

Your twin sister Daphne was the diamond of the season, the belle of every ball and the woman that every suitor desired. You were the second born twin, the second option. Your sister had the pick of suitors so you had free reign of your sister's rejects.

Daphne practically drags you across the ballroom, attempting to avoid the bumbling Nigel Berbrooke once again. He was a horrible man, set on marrying a Bridgerton, either you or your sister. She glances back at you and behind you, accidently bumping into a man weaving the crowd the same way you were.

They traded apologies and you were perfectly fine to continue walking back to your brother but Daphne stayed still, glancing behind her at Lord Berbrooke who continued to follow the pair of you.

"Tell me your name."

"Am I honestly meant to believe you do not know my name?" The man asked, seeming annoyed at Daphne's insistence.

She glanced behind her once again, Berbrooke growing closer. Her eyes met your which were begging her to move along and find Anthony. She ignored you, laughing at an imaginary joke the man had told.

"If you required an introduction, madams, I do believe accosting me to be the least civilised of ways."

"Accosting you?" Daphne was surprised at the mans annoyance but you pulled her slightly backwards.

"I apologise for my sister." You hurriedly said. "We were simply trying to find our brother."

Speak of the devil and he may come, Anthony appeared behind you, calling to the man in front of you.

"Basset. Basset!"

The man's mood immediately shifted. "Bridgerton!"

"I heard news of your father. Deuce take it, you are no longer Basset. Hastings! The Duke of Hastings, now known for evermore." Anthony teased.

Daphne stepped into the conversation, once again dragging you behind her. "The Duke of Hastings is it?"

The Duke turned to face her, but met eyes with you instead as you lifted your head from the floor. His expression seemed to soften for a moment before Anthony spoke again.

"Right, Hastings, these are my sisters."

"Your sisters?" He seemed surprised but brushed it off.

The Duke's eyes kept flicking back to yours as Anthony spoke further. You didn't hear any of it, taken by the Duke's imposing presence. As you walked away, you glanced back to find the Duke staring directly at you. For once, it was you and not your sister that was being looked at. It felt nice, a warmth settled in your chest that could not be shaken off no matter the storm.

And boy does that storm arrive at the very next ball when your sister walks through the crowd, Duke on her arm. They begin to dance and you stand there speechless. Daphne hadn't expressed an inkling of interest in this man and now she was dancing with him, staring lovingly into his eyes as he returned the gesture. What was going on? The rest of the evening passes quickly, a suitor or two asking you for a spin around the floor but none caught your attention. You don't truly process what happened until you're home and preparing for bed.

"Are you courting the Duke?" You burst through the doors to your sister's bedroom.

Daphne seems startled by your suddenness. "It would appear so..."

An unfamiliar feeling stirs in your chest. "Anthony says he does not wish to marry." Daphne hums in response, taking pins out of her hair. "Why do you court him then?"

She shrugs. "He intrigues me. Perhaps he can be changed."

"You haven't seemed interested in him before."

Daphne turns to you, a worried and slightly confused look in her eyes. "Is there something you wish to tell me sister?"

"I-" You aren't sure what to say, you aren't even sure what Daphne is asking. "No! I'm just worried for you. There is nothing I need to tell you."

"Alright... Good night sister."

"...Goodnight."

The season drags on, much to your disappointment. Daphne continues to court the Duke, attracting more suitors than ever. The news of a Prince reaches town and Daphne seems weirdly excited about the prospect of meeting this Prince. The more you thought, the more confusing it became. Your sister and the Duke were courting but she showed no deeper interest in him, nothing more than the surface level conversational skills we were taught to secure a suitor.

Your eyes catch the Duke's at nearly every ball he attends and when your sister comes to stand beside you, The Duke always stands between you. You cannot make any assumptions based on foolish hoping but your heart hopes and it hopes dearly.

Nevertheless, your sister has captured the attention of a Prussian prince, Fredrich. He's devoted to her and she is besotted with him, Duke be damned. They dance as many times as possible at balls, talking and laughing together at every chance they get. The Duke is neglected, attending fewer balls and remaining at the edges of rooms when he does.

It's at one of these balls that he did attend where your watching Daphne dance with the Prince. Simon emerges through the crowd to stand beside you. Your mother is on the other side of the room with Lady Danbury, your brothers nowhere to be seen.

"Miss Bridgerton-" He seems to second guess himself halfway through the sentence. "May I have this dance?"

You can't help the stunned expression that takes over your face. "M-Me? You wish to dance with me?"

He smiles warmly and your soul silently celebrates. "Yes, if you do not mind?"

The smile that covers your face could rival the sun with it's joy. "Please."

Couples filter on and off the dancefloor and the Duke takes your hand, guiding you to the centre. He takes a step towards you until you feel his breath on your cheek. He spins you once, pulling away as he seems to realise where he is. Your breath hitches as his bare hand brushes your gloved one. Then, all too quickly, the dance is over and you leave Simon and the dancefloor, rushing outside for some fresh air.

It feels as though you can barely breath, despite seeing your breath mist in the cold night air.

"Miss Bridgerton!"

Simon is behind you, having come outside to check you were alright. His presence warms you but you shake away the feeling. It's wrong to love your sister's suitor.

"Don't come closer." Simon nods, even taking a step away. "We are not doing this. You are an infamous rake." Simon goes to interject but you continue to speak. "And least of all, you are courting my sister."

Simon sharply inhales. "I am not courting your sister."

"What?" The exclamation leaves your lips before your brain catches up, spinning to face him. "What do you mean you are not courting Daphne? You dance together, you sent her and Mama flowers, you are courting!"

"I was simply helping her find better suitors whilst making myself appear unavailable. It was a ruse, nothing more."

"What of my sister?"

"I do not love your sister." Simon states. "I love you. Besides, your sister is besotted with a prince, our ruse has succeeded and therefore ended. Why would she marry a lowly Duke when she could have a prince?"

Your voice drops to a whisper. "What does this mean... for us?"

Simon smiles. "I'm here if you'll have me. Please-"

You smile shyly at him as you speak your dreams into existence, "My Duke?"

Simon's heart soars. "Your Duke." He quietly agrees.

I did not mean to but I have written a pt. 2 to this which I'll edit and publish next week. season 3 part 1 has got me back in a bridgerton mood, so i will be binging all of part two in a single day

#simon basset x reader #simon basset #the duke #bridgerton!reader #bridgerton #muxsh #muxshwriting

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pingnova · 1 year

Text

I met a quiet old man while browsing the plant books and accessories at the trading post this spring who asked what I was looking for. Most white people came to look at the jewelry and the expensive woolen blankets, so I guess it was a little unusual how closely I was examining all of the books on plants.

I held up a deck of native plant playing cards and said I was a forager, looking for more guides on local plants. He nodded thoughtfully and said there was a lot of medicine in wild plants. I smiled awkwardly, not sure why he was talking to me. But I reciprocated: "What are you looking for?"

He said he wasn't sure. He pointed to a few books on flowers, not necessarily edible vegetables. "They're beautiful," he said unsurely.

I nodded to encourage him. "Plants aren't just for eating, they're for appreciating too. We need beauty and nutrition."

Now he smiled, mostly hidden by his mustache, and told me he had a community garden plot he had tended for the past thirty years. Wow, what dedication.

Abruptly he says he has one year to live. He's at the trading post to find parting gifts for his son and grandchildren. He says this all very calmly, he's clearly been preparing for some time. And I stare at him because he seems so well and I've just met him. The idea of him dead is disturbing and shameful.

"Oh," is all I can say.

"I think this year I'll fill it with flowers."

He says it so warmly. I remember he was talking about his beloved community garden patch. I'm filled with heaviness and disbelief that he is soon dying and here wasting time talking to some random about growing flowers. But I manage to stammer something.

"It can't all be vegetables. Soft and beautiful things are important too. Especially in hard times."

Now he fully turns to smile at me. Again in my shock I think he's too content. Shouldn't he be raging? Crying, screaming, anything? But his mustache is white, he mentioned an adult son and grandkids, he seems well enough now and reasonably confident in his plan for a full season of flower gardening. Rapid-fire I conclude he's already done all of this and doesn't need it from me. Right now he's just discussing how important and sacred plants are with a likeminded young stranger.

He finally says, "Flowers are a soft landing after a long battle."

I choke out some kind of agreement so I don't accidentally cry. I wish him some kind of luck and awkwardly crabwalk away. I'm not really the king of social interaction even when its not emotionally loaded.

I bought my cards and books on vegetables and looked at the lone few on flowers he had been perusing. I'm in my twenties and don't plan on dying anytime soon, but how much time do I spend being as fast, efficient, and artless as possible in order to "survive" when that survival is never even in question. I have anxiety, I have ptsd, I'm an activist. All necessary and inescapable works of life. But this man had a season to live, death certain, and wanted to spend it growing flowers.

I went back to the register with a small book on flowers. When I'm hunting a forest to learn the native vegetables, I no longer ignore the blooms. If the battle is long, I want to grow flowers too.

#i think abt that man all the time 😭🥺#personal

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wooahaes · 8 months

Text

dream a little dream with me

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 9/13

word count: 4.7k~

warnings: skinship. food mentions. some slight angst.

daisy’s notes: oh to have a soulmate i meet with in my dreams...

summary: Jeonghan knows you. He might not know your face, but you’re the person in his dreams every night. And frankly… he’s pretty sure he’s already falling for you. He just has to figure out how to find you when the world won’t let him trade names or locations or anything he can actually use. At least he knows your favorite things…

"Hello...?"

Jeonghan was maybe thirteen when he finally met you for the first time, and you'd already proven him wrong with your existence alone. When he had turned ten, he expected to feel... something. To lose all the colors within his vision, or maybe he would feel your pain or something physical. A name, your first thoughts, your first words... Except he felt nothing. It'd upset him, sure--most people were upset by that kind of thing just on the account of being considered an outsider to their peers. Yet now he'd found himself in a museum filled with paintings he couldn't fully make out, and surrounded by people with blurry faces... Except for you.

He'd blinked. "Hello?"

And you lit up, making your way over to him. "You're...?"

Jeonghan had furrowed his brow, watching you carefully. Why could he see you...? "I'm Jeonghan," he had said, thinking that was what you meant.

You'd given him your given name, too--last name melting into white noise for a second. For a moment, you stood there, brimming with excitement. "We're--We're soulmates."

Immediately, he'd felt lighter at the revelation. "Oh!" Then he paused, brows drawing together once more as a follow-up thought pushed into his head immediately. "Why haven't we met before?"

He'd seen the way you grew more upset, gaze no longer meet his own. "I'm... It's complicated." You wrapped your arms around yourself. "I think... Our sleep schedules don't overlap?" You looked up. "I laid down to take a nap for a bit because I was feeling sick, so..."

So you weren't near him. He felt a sting of rejection, even though you hadn't said anything of the sort.. Emotions were weird at thirteen, after all, and something like his soulmate not being near him. Obviously, it wasn't your fault: you didn't pick where you lived. He looked around, and felt... awkward. It was different than meeting someone for the first time in reality. At least other people were around. Now, it just you and him in this dream together.

"Do you wanna talk?" He said after a moment. "Since... I don't know if I'll get to see you again."

"You aren't mad?"

He shook his head. "I just wish you were closer," he crossed his arms. "This isn't fair."

You frowned. "It's not... So let's talk."

The two of you strolled on your own, getting to know one another. He learned the country you were from, even though he wouldn't know what city or town you were in. He learned about this doughnut place in your hometown, though, that you loved to visit when you could. He told you school stories and about his own friends, about the pranks he'd pulled on his little sister... Little things to learn about one another. He learned your favorite color, you learned the foods he disliked...

And then all too soon, you had disappeared within seconds. He had called for you, only to realize that you must have woken up--or been woken up, since it was so sudden. When he woke up the next morning for school, he told his parents that he'd met his soulmate in his dreams (even though he couldn't fully remember your face once he was awake).

Thus began the cycle. He probably needed the naps he would start taking in an attempt to meet you again, but he'd grown used to pushing through his fatigue to work on schoolwork or to spend time with friends. Yet his parents always knew where he'd be when they came home from work, finding him asleep on his bed as he hoped to meet you again.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes he could sit with you for a little while, long enough to see you off before you woke up for your own schooling. Other times, he'd get home far too late to see you. But every time the two of you met over the rest of your teenage years, you made it work. The two of you would talk more about yourselves, getting to know each other better. He learned how to tell when you were upset, and would let you vent if you needed to. You'd given him a space to talk freely about his own feelings, too: the things that made him happy, or the things that were worrying him in real life...

Most people didn't know about his 'other' life in his dreams. The one where the two of you would go on walks in a city, sometimes holding hands. He'd slowly begun to fall for you over time, realizing that the care you showed him was sweet. The two of you had been strangers years ago, and now he understood maybe that was why the two of you were soulmates.

When he tried to kiss you around eighteen, you stopped him.

"I wanna kiss you for real," you said to him, holding his hands. "I know it's unfair to ask you to wait for me, but--"

"I will." He hadn't hesitated. Although he had kissed a girl once before (he was fifteen, and he realized after he did it that he'd much rather be kissing the person in his dreams) and told you so, he'd held off on dating. He wanted to experience things with you.

You'd squeezed his hands. "You don't have to."

Were you rejecting him...? What if he started dating someone and he loved them more than he already loved you? Part of him felt like he knew he would leave that person if he met you face-to-face, and yet... That meant he would hurt someone else. He'd heard stories about soulmates who left partners to be with one another, and while they were happy, the people left behind grew to resent them. Could he really do that to another person?

"You don't want me to?" He'd pulled his hands from yours, feeling the tiny sting in his chest.

You shook your head. "No, I--I just don't want you to wait around for me forever. What if we never meet?"

But what if we do? Jeonghan felt his heart sink in his chest. "We will," he said. Jeonghan never considered himself a hopeless romantic, but he had the naivete of a eighteen-year-old on his side. "I'll find you. I promise."

Before you could say something, you had begun to fade again. You were waking up. "Jeonghan--"

And then you were gone.

The first person Jeonghan had told about you was one of his college roommates, Joshua. He'd been listening to the way he'd been venting about how he felt he was annoying his soulmate whenever he sang, and waited until Seungcheol left for class to finally admit it out loud. He'd tell Seungcheol, too, soon: he just... needed to do it at his own pace. Both of his roommates seemed like good people who wouldn't judge him, but he'd already decided. Joshua first, and then Seungcheol. Deciding on that had made it easier, especially since Seungcheol was the busier of the two.

"My soulmate and I share dreams," he had said, pushing around the noodles in his ramyeon cup.

Joshua looked up. "Oh. Really?"

He nodded. "We talk whenever we can. It's hard. They're not from here. Depending on when I take a nap, I can either talk to them for a while or just ten minutes..."

"It sounds hard," Joshua nodded along. He'd sat backwards in his chair, leaning against the back of it with his chest, arms folded over the top. "So what are you doing to find them?"

Jeonghan said nothing.

"... Aren't you going to look for them?"

Jeonghan's gaze flickered up from his food. "I don't know. I don't know if they actually want to be found."

"That's--"

"We talked about it last time we met, a little over a year ago." He pushed around noodles more, never actually eating. "I'm in love with them. I don't know how they feel, although they said they'd rather kiss me for real when we meet. Then they said not to wait for them."

"It sounds like they're in love with you, too," he said.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. "Then why tell me not to wait?"

"Well... They're not from here." Joshua rested his chin on his arms. "Maybe they don't want you to feel like you can't date or anything."

"Don't you think I've tried it before?" Jeonghan looked up. "After they said that, I tried to move on, and I spent the entire time comparing her to my soulmate. She's not them."

Joshua frowned. "Dude... If you spend the entire time comparing, them, you're not going to be happy--"

"I know that." Jeonghan let out a sigh. "I just... I tried being with other people. She wasn't the only girl I tried to date--or see at all." They're just my soulmate, and I realized how much I love them every time I try to be with someone else. But would Joshua understand that...? Or would he just sound over-dramatic for someone he'd never met in person?

"I... see." Joshua looked off. "I guess it's different when you know your soulmate."

Jeonghan softened a little when he saw the guilt on Joshua's face. "It's fine," he said. "I just... I wish I could go to them. I don't know where they are, exactly, and it's not like I can go find them."

Can't you? He pushed away the thought. The world was big. .He couldn't just go out and find you--at least, not without looking like a creep. As much as he wished he could just let go of that desire deep within him to be with you, even temporarily, he just couldn't. Not when he'd gotten to know you so deeply. He felt as though a part of him would always be with you now, and that he carried you with him wherever he went.

Joshua understood, though. He listened, and he gave Jeonghan his thoughts whenever he asked for him. Seungcheol would eventually do the same, once Jeonghan told him about his soulmate. Seungcheol hadn't shown any offense to not being told (it was Jeonghan's business, after all). And in the moments in-between, Jeonghan was with you in some way--either thoughts preoccupied with you or in the fleeting moments of sharing a dream space.

"I kissed someone," you confessed at one point. Jeonghan had been sitting underneath a tree with you, fashioning a flower crown out of the little yellow blossoms that littered the ground around him. You craned your neck to look at him, "Are you mad...?"

He shook his head. "Do you like this?"

At first, you didn't move, and he felt his heart falter. "I dunno," you confessed a moment later. "I feel like... Every person I meet, I keep comparing them to you. Like... Hannie would laugh at this joke. Or Hannie would think this. It's like... I can't get you out of my head."

His heart skipped a beat this time as he stared at you, his face growing redder by the second. "... Really?"

"I... I dunno. It's just--I don't want you to think I'm some sort of loser when we meet."

When. Not if. "So you want to find me?"

He saw the way you grew more flustered, eyes landing anywhere but him as you pushed yourself up so that you were sitting. "Yes. Are you mad?" You finally met his gaze. "I mean... I think I hurt you before. When I told you not to wait for me? And we never talked about it, so..."

Jeonghan set the flower crown into his lap, reaching out to cup your cheek. "I'm not mad," he said softly. "Not anymore."

"So you were mad."

He nodded a little after a moment. "At first..." He drew his hand back, shifting over so that he could sit closer to you. "At first I was hurt," he said, "because I thought you didn't want to find me. And... And I really wanted to kiss you, so I thought you were rejecting me, and.. I talked to my friends about it and they told me that it was alright to feel hurt, but that I was making assumptions about how you felt. So..." He dropped his hand down, pressing his palms into the grass. "How do you feel?"

"I've always wanted to meet you," you said outright. "But... I was talking to a few friends, and they kept asking questions about where you lived, and whether we'd get the chance to meet. It felt kinda mean," you moved closer, pressing your back against the tree, so that you could sit next to Jeonghan. "Like... They don't get a guarantee that they'll meet their soulmates. What makes us different?"

"Well, we know each other," he said, hand slipping into your own. "It's easier to accept things if you don't know your soulmate."

"I guess," you nodded along. "But... I dunno, it just made me anxious that we'd never be able to find each other."

"We will," Jeonghan said softly. "We'll make it work. I want to try."

Your hand curled around his, squeezing it tighter. "I want to try, too," you said, firm in what you were committing to. "Hannie?" You paused for a moment, "Jeonghan...? I want to be with you. I know we've never met in person, but can we...?"

He nodded. "Yes," he breathed out, reaching his other hand up to turn your face toward him. "May I...?"

You closed the distance between the two of you. It left him wondering if your lips would be this soft in reality. The last thing he heard was the sound of you saying his name, about to say something else when he found himself back in his couch, heart racing in his chest. He had jolted forward, fully awake out of nowhere, enough that it alerted Joshua and Seungcheol. The two were sitting at their little dinner table when they turned to see Jeonghan.

"... Bad dream?" Joshua called out.

Jeonghan just bolted to his bedroom, shutting himself in as he processed what all just happened. You kissed him. You wanted to be more. You wanted to find him.

And, fuck, he was going to do anything to find you now.

Most people gave Jeonghan weird looks when he explained his relationship to them. Yes, he hadn't met you in real life yet. No, it didn't really do anything to the relationship--it limited your dates, sure, but you had fun manipulating the dreamscape together to go wherever you wanted to go. Amusement parks with no waits for the rides, or this little cafe in your hometown, or a lovely park at night that Jeonghan walked through alone and wished you were there with him in reality. There were plenty of downsides, sure--neither of you could taste the food that you were eating, or feel the wind on your face--but you made it work and resolved to live these out once you found your way to each other. Sometimes people tried to challenge him: how could he have a relationship entirely with someone in his dreams? Didn't he miss the physical contact?

Which... The answer was a resounded 'yes,' but also it was none of their business. The two of you made it work, end of story. He'd eventually had a friend circle that accepted his relationship with his soulmate, although he'd become insistent that (when Seungkwan met his soulmate) his experience didn't count. That the two of you had agreed that your 'day one' of your relationship would be the day that you met face to face, just to make it easier to pin down a date. Everyone else had a date they could use as an anniversary, and you... Well, you and Jeonghan were different.

Although things had changed years later. All he knew at first was that he went to sleep one night, and you were there.

"... Jeonghan?"

And he'd stared at you, your name slipping from his mouth as he rushed over to you. "Are you sick again?" He frowned. "Honey, I wish I could be there to--"

"No, I... I moved. Remember?"

Right. You... You told him that you were moving for a job opportunity. It'd saddened him a little in the moment because both of you knew it'd make meeting harder, and yet all of that seemed to fade away in an instant.

"So you're...?" He didn't want to speak it aloud. What if it weren't true? What if...?

You nodded slowly. "I think... I'm closer," you said. "I'm in--"

The next few words seemed to dissolve into nothing, like his brain refused to register them. Jeonghan took your face into his hands, tears wetting his cheeks as he shook his head. Why can't it just work? Why can't their connection just let them have this now? You were closer to him. That should mean that the two of you can freely talk, and yet all he could hear was muffled words that he couldn't make out at all.

"We can't," he said, "we'll just... We'll have to find a way without saying names."

It broke his heart every time he saw you cry, and this time was worse. You nodded, though, hands coming up to hold his. "We'll find a way," you said. "Saturdays. I'll... I'll wait for you somewhere." Another name became muffled when you spoke it aloud, and you loudly swore as you broke away from him. "Coffee," you said, turning to him. "I'll... I'll always go to the same place near--" Again, your voice cut out. "Fuck--Just start looking, and--and we'll figure it out if it doesn't work."

"You'll stay there?" He watched you carefully. "All day?"

An eager nod, motivated by how close the two of you were now. "All day. Every Saturday until I find you."

And so it began.

Jeonghan... truly underestimated how many coffee places existed in this fucking city. But he went out every Saturday morning and spent hours upon hours searching for you. For months, that search came up empty. Joshua had offered to help, but Jeonghan turned both he and Seungcheol (and everyone, for that matter) down. He needed to find you himself. Maybe it was hubris, or maybe it was because he wanted to be the first one to meet you... He wasn't exactly sure anymore. A mix of both, perhaps. You could meet his friends in time, but Jeonghan didn't want anyone else to see you in person before he did. He'd known you this long. He'd been with you this long. He needed to be the first one to see you.

Three months ago, Chan met his soulmate. How much longer would it take for Jeonghan to find you? He approached the last place on his list for today, night having already fallen upon him. Maybe he'd change places with you, and have you running around looking for him. He'd try to pick somewhere more niche, though, just to make it easier on you. Jeonghan tucked his hands into his jacket pocket, staring down at his phone as he followed the directions to this place. It was a little out of the way, but maybe if he made it in time, he'd be able to swing by the bigger place not far from there. It closed earlier, sure, but it usually had way more foot traffic from what he could tell.

The thought that had been haunting him hit him again: would you even like him when you saw him in person? It'd been something stupid that popped into his head one Saturday a month ago, but it still shook him a little more than he expected. He'd seen you in so, so many dreams; he'd been with you, dating you, and yet it felt like there was a degree of separation. Those were his dreams with you, this was the real world where other people would get in the way. Where he couldn't just go to that cafe in your hometown with you, giggling about a silly joke one of you cracked, without having to travel to get there. He'd confessed his fears to Joshua once day, and Joshua had just stared at him.

"But you're in love with them."

"I know, but what if they don't love me once they see me?" Jeonghan had been curled up on Joshua's couch that night, a blanket draped around him. He toyed with the edge of it, fingers curling around the plush material. "It's different, I think."

Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god. You're so stupid."

"Hey--"

"Jeonghan." Joshua turned, entirely serious as he leaned in, "They love you, dumbass. I know your dreams are magical or whatever, but they still like being with you. You told me they trust you enough to cry on you and tell you about how bad work was, or about friend troubles, or enough to just say they need to cry because of stress. If things change when they see you, they weren't really in love with you. Dreams are whatever--you're still you."

Jeonghan had said nothing at first, letting the words sink in. Then when he looked up, he saw Joshua looking off into the distance, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "They're singing, aren't they?"

Joshua cracked a smile. Jeonghan knew him well enough. "It's quiet," he said, "but... Yeah. They are."

Jeonghan knew that while Joshua was the one who sang more often in his relationship, he truly loved whenever his soulmate would sing. He knew that Joshua had told them that, and they chose to indulge him in it a little more often. Jeonghan should take a video or a picture of this and send it to them: you broke your soulmate, btw, come get him. Then again... Joshua definitely had ammunition of his own. Videos of times where Jeonghan had woken up in a pleasant mood because he'd gone on a date with you yet again, always ending with Joshua telling the camera that he was ready for the two of you to meet already.

At the end of the street on the left. Jeonghan had begun to hurry at this point, already feeling his heart sinking in his chest. No. No, no, no, fuck--The lights were out, and no one was inside despite the website saying that this place stayed open for another two hours. There had been a piece of paper taped up on a window that said something about one of the coffee machines breaking down and causing a big enough mess that they'd have to close for the night. Shit. What if this had been the one? What if you were inside when the coffee machine broke, spraying hot coffee everywhere? What if you had been burned? Jeonghan wanted to kick himself for not getting here sooner, but he looked at the other shop that closed in less than ten minutes. Fuck. Next Saturday for sure. Maybe that would be the one.

He did what he always did. He called Joshua, and told him that, yet again, he had failed to find you.

"Aw. I'm sorry, dude," Joshua had said. "Are you sure you don't want us to help out?"

Before Jeonghan could respond, Seungcheol had spoken up, "We will! Just tell us where to go, and we'll find them. There's too many places for you to do it on your own. Stop being stubborn about this."

Jeonghan chuckled softly, glad that he had friends who cared so deeply about him. "No, it's fine. We'll find each other soon. I can feel it. We'll talk about it tonight and see if they can give me any details."

Of course, you hadn't before. Whatever was keeping the two of you from finding each other made sure of that. But they didn't need to know how many failed attempts Jeonghan had made at this point.

"Are you sure?" Seungcheol sighed. "I just don't want you to feel like you need to do this alone. We're all here for you. If you say the word to Seungkwan--"

Another warm chuckle. "He'll storm every shop himself," Jeonghan said. "That's why I haven't told anyone else yet. You know Mingyu would go out searching without telling any of us."

"You sound exhausted," Joshua spoke up after a moment. "Want one of us to pick you up?"

"I'll just take the bus. I think I'll plan my next move during the ride." Jeonghan tucked his other hand back into his pocket. He needed the time to lick his wounds and pick himself back up, too. "Maybe... I'll figure out a new plan."

"Just call me if you change your mind," Seungcheol said. "Get home safely."

"I will," Jeonghan said, and ended the call. He shoved his phone into his pocket, and let out a sigh.

Okay. Another failed Saturday. Jeonghan wouldn't lose hope, though: he'd find you soon enough. It wouldn't be as soon as he planned, but he would find you, and he would kiss you, and he'd never let anything tear the two of you apart like this ever again. Even with work trips and vacations and whatnot, Jeonghan would be happy to see your face again outside of his dreams.

The bus had slowed to a stop, and Jeonghan climbed on before taking a seat near the back. He leaned against the window, watching the city crawl by once the bus had lurched forward again. If the two of you could pick something less common, maybe you'd find one another sooner. He leaned against the window, watching the city crawl by as his eyelids began to droop. Next Saturday. He hugged himself tighter. Next Saturday would be the day. He had to find you then. Or maybe it was time to let his friends help him find you. What was the point of being stubborn about it all when he was taking away days he could be falling in love with you all over again?

"Hello...?"

He must have dozed off on the bus again, the sound of your voice making him open his eyes.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but when's your stop?"

You must have been teasing him again. "Wherever you want it to be," he said, the words rolling off his tongue as easily as they always do. It was always easy to say such things to you. He looked up, and pauses, mind fuzzy for a moment. "Sorry, I thought you were my..."

And then it's clear. There you stood in front of him, one hand gripping the seat next to him and the other on the one in front of it. Your eyes widened as realization hit you, and Jeonghan was already rising out of his seat. The bus driver yelled something back at the two of you, but Jeonghan wasn't listening. And it seemed like you weren't, either.

"Good morning, Hannie," you teased lightly, already smiling at him.

Jeonghan only leaned in, thrilled that you closed the distance between the two of you. He cupped your face in his hands, nose brushing against yours as he tasted something sweet on your lips. Tea, he thought, or maybe some sort of dessert involving matcha or something. Your body was warm underneath his touch and so much more real than he'd ever dreamed of. But what about you? Did he live up to your dreams?

"I love you," he said softly when he drew back. Emotions surged in his chest: relief, joy, love. The freedom of no longer having to search for you crashed over him in waves, and he felt himself tear up. He roughly wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffling as he tried to hold back now. This wasn't how he wanted either of you to remember your first meeting, with him about to sob.

Yet all it took was seeing you cry for him to break, pulling you into his arms as he held you tight. The bus driver yelled back again, and he just reached back frantically, pressing the button to signal for the two of you to get off as soon as you could. And he left with you, hand in hand, as the two of you stepped out underneath the stars, already falling in love with one another all over again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x y/n #yoon jeonghan fluff

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reallyromealone · 9 months

Text

Lost and found 2

Angst omegaverse male reader

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

"Sanzu" (name) said disinterested as Mikey, Sanzu and Ran stood outside of the apartment "(name)" he said back as Ran smiled "hello~" he greeted as they were best friends forever "you two can wait outside, I don't want you traumatizing my daughter" (name) said blankly and Sanzu glared but Mikey raised a hand to halt him and the pink haired man glared but complied.

"Take your shoes off" (name) said to him as they closed the door "let me get her, I don't want her surprised or anything" (name) grunted, Mikey watching the Omega walk to the livingroom and quietly talk to the toddler, her little voice mumbling back as it was early in the day, she just finished breakfast after all.

"Ok come" (name) said poking his head around the corner and Mikey tentatively stepped forward, heart racing and feet felt numb as (name) spoke so lovingly to their daughter "sweety, this is Manjiro.. he's your dad" the six year old looked confused as she tilted her head, obsidian eyes looked back at one another "hi..." Mikey said crouching before the little pup who looked at him shyly "hello..." She said back and Mikey felt his heart clench at how precious she was "I brought you something" Mikey said softly, a gift approved by (name) of course.

(Daughters name) looked curious at the gift, the little girl had been really getting into a kids show lately, a power rangers- like show.

She looked starry eyed and (name) cleared his throat and the girl looked at Mikey in realization "thank you!" She gave a little bow and accepted the toy "wanna see my others?" She asked taking his fingers in her tiny hand and Mikey smiled "sure" and let the pup lead him to her toys.

(Name) watched with a heavy heart as the two interacted, the pup shy but still played with her dad none the less.

'hes here for her, not for me' (name) reminded himself when the two locked eyes, this is all for (daughters name) and (name) would make sure she was cared for.

"Roaaar!" She squealed as she played dinosaurs with her dad, the blond smiling softly at how sweet she was "daddy! Look at my Dino!" (Name) smiled at his kid "very cool! What dini is it!"

"T-Rex!"

"Atta girl"

(Name) made sandwiches for the two of them, shaped like dinosaurs of course as that was (daughter name)s current fixation "thank you daddy" she ate her sandwich happily and Mikey noticed (name) hadn't eaten anything "aren't you gonna eat?" Mikey looked over his-- (name) worried and the other looked cold "I'm fine" voice clipped and icy, thankfully Mikey took the hint to drop it.

It was domestic, mikey and (daughters name)...

"So whaddya do?" (Daughters name) asked softly "daddy said you worked veeeeery far away" she looked so precious as she asked, Innocence radiating off if her as Mikey felt his heart break "I work in trade, I had to go for a long time"

(Name) went to the restroom at this time while Mikey continued "I'm sorry I had to be away but I'm here forever"

"Are you gonna be with daddy?"

"I'm working on that" Mikey loved his kid so much, the second he laid eyes on her he knew he would love her forever, his love for the two overflowing.

He didn't miss the hurt look on (name)s face, like he was holding back tears when he believed Mikey and (daughters name) weren't looking, the pain on his face all day.

"This was nice..." Mikey said softly and (name) looked cold at him as their pup had her nap "I want to see her again".

"Then we set ground rules"

"She doesn't go with you alone"

"She eats what I approve and she doesn't miss school unless it's *dire* and even then she is only picked up by me"

"And finally... She is never to be in your business, know about it or even catch a glimpse of it" (name) was dead serious as he stared at Mikey "we play by my rules, I'm not tolerating none of you're shit Sano"

(Name) was the only and will be the only person to get away with talking to him, the Omega finally letting Sanzu and Ran inside now that the pup was sound asleep "long time no see~" ran said merrily and (name) just looked uninterested in him "if you guys plan to follow him, there's rules"

(Name) explained the rules once more, ran pouting and Sanzu looked livid but didn't argue "and for the love of god, no drugs. Ever."

"If any of you pull her into your shit, there's no place on earth that will keep you safe from me" (name) didn't value his life the way he valued his daughters, no matter what she was first on his priority list and he made that clear with everyone.

"She has a schedule, on Saturdays she sleeps over at drakens, they work on bikes together and she's happy, we work around the set schedule" (name) looked done but didn't stop explaining his kids life and plans.

And Mikey listened to every word, taking it in.

The two made plans for the next meeting, until (name) deemed it ok, it would stay at (name)s house.

(Name) just hoped to fucking god that that asshole wouldn't bring his work to (name)s home.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #male reader #bonten x reader #omegaverse #omega male reader #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x male reader

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 4 months

Note

umm how dark are u willing to go? I'm thinking abt turning to a life of prostitution and the ghoul being your first ever client and he's not very gentle about it, (plus you're scared bc he's a ghoul ffs) in fact he's very smug bc he's the first client, probably buys you for the night :) mwah xoxo

Working Girl

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Sex Worker Female Reader

Word Count: 5,411

Warnings: smut (18+), sex for pay, rough sex, knife play, cannibalistic threats (he's joking...kinda), spitting, hair pulling, humiliation, rope play, dacryphilia, face and throat fucking, cum facial, some dubcon elements, soft-ish ending (I cannot help myself).

Notes: My answer to that question is "darker than this", anon. I suppose I should probably put together some sort of "wills-and-wonts" pinned post, though, honestly, there aren't many of the latter. With smut and romance content, I think it's important to keep an open mind and broaden your horizons. We are cool with sex work and sex workers in this house, by the way.

I had to let this one stew a bit to decide what direction I wanted to go with it. I'm obsessed with the idea of Cooper menacing around in New Vegas, so I hope you're alright with that. I am also obsessed with the outfits the sex workers outside the casinos wear. I went a little crazy with the length on this one, but I'm super happy with how it turned out. Hope you like it! XOXO

The uniform you'd been given for your new job was absolutely humiliating.

Sure, you looked...nice. They'd fed you, for once you'd had plenty of water, got the first chance to bathe that you'd had in weeks, maybe months. You'd even been able to wash your hair, a rare, rare thing that still had you trying to smell the silky strands as they blew by your face. Initially, you'd felt quite confident, actually; the cropped top even had sleeves, the tight black skirt and heels making your legs look quite nice, even if they were uncomfortable to walk and stand in.

However, your confidence had diminished a bit when they'd given you the black leather collar to wear around your neck, reducing to basically zero when you actually stepped outside to begin your work.

Okay, you had technically done this before, traded sex for medicine or repair work or a place to stay. Honestly, at this point, you thought you'd had more sex for trade than sex for pleasure, the latter hard to come by for someone as picky about actual dating as you. But it felt like one thing to have someone offer it in the moment, when you were truly desperate and a spur-of-the-moment decision was distastefully easy to make. This, standing along the New Vegas Strip and advertising yourself for it, felt like another. A late evening breeze blew across the road, stirring up some dust and making you shiver.

If you were honest with yourself, you got off easy. You weren't sure what the guys and girls with the chains around their bodies and their nipples exposed had done, right or wrong, to earn that uniform, but you weren't eager to find out.

There was a man across the way, leaning against the wall in the shadows outside the tram station, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his hand. You couldn't see his face, obscured by a dingy, wide-brimmed cowboy hat, his figure hidden as well by a long, dark duster that was incredibly ratty at the ends. He'd been there a while; you weren't sure how long, but you were fairly certain he'd been checking you out. His smokes were lasting an awfully long time.

You'd been told that oftentimes johns were too nervous to initiate the transaction themselves, that you needed to be fun and flirty and try to hook them in yourself if you wanted any business. It didn't help that you, too, were nervous to initiate, but you wanted this to work out, at least for now, and no one else had been interested so far.

"Hey there, handsome. Are you looking to party?" you called out to him, waving as playfully as possible.

That got him, the burning red cherry at the end of his smoke glowing brightly for a few seconds before he tossed it to the ground, exhaling a big cloud of smoke as he stubbed it out with the toe of his boot.

"Handsome, huh? It's been a hot, hot minute since anyone called me that, darlin'." he drawled, his voice actually quite nice. His footsteps gave off a funny little jingle you couldn't place, and you calmly took him in as he approached. But then he came close enough that you could see his face, see the pits and the sunken eye sockets and the gaping hole in the middle of his face where a nose was supposed to be.

A ghoul. Holy shit, he was a ghoul.

Now, you didn't have anything against ghouls, per se, not like some people certainly seemed to. You didn't like the idea of anyone being barred from towns and outposts or harassed just because of what they were, to no fault of their own. You still gave pause at the idea of sleeping with one. Couldn't it make you sick? Didn't some ghouls eat people? Or was that just the feral ones? No, that was stupid. There were people who ate people in this world. Of course a ghoul could possibly eat you.

"Busy the rest of the night?" he asked as if it were automatically the response he'd receive.

You tried your best to giggle playfully, desperate to no longer have to stand outside and solicit for a while, even if it meant your first trick was a doozy.

"Not if you've got the caps." you replied, clenching your shaking hands behind your back.

"Oh, I've got 'em, sweetheart. So." he asked, looking you blatantly up and down. "Are we gonna party or what?"

The two of you made your way into the casino, the bright lights throwing intriguing shadows across your new friend's gaunt face. You left him at the front desk and told him where could meet you after he relinquished all of his weapons, including the big gun strapped to his back. You'd be happy to see that go.

After you left him, you went to the back to check in and described the john you were going back with. When you said he was a ghoul, you expected some sort of reaction or concern, but all the older woman behind the counter did was produce a Rad-X from a half-empty bottle and push it across the counter at you along with a room key.

"Room three. He paid for the night." she said flatly, barely looking your way. "You're gonna wanna take that now, not later."

You picked it up and turned to walk towards the back rooms where the dates happened. You were a little floored he'd paid for that much time; you'd been anticipating an hour, maybe two. But all night? Did turning into a ghoul give you some sort of super stamina? Or did he have other plans for you?

As you passed by the doorway to the gambling floor, you could see him still standing at the counter emptying his pockets.

Just how many weapons did one person need?

Hesitating a moment, you waited to catch his eye, holding up your hand and flashing him three fingers. He gave you a slight nod, and you continued on, unlocking the third door down the adjacent, isolated hall. The rooms weren't much but the basics; a dingy but functional bed, a chair and side table with a jug of water and a few glasses in the corner. A lamp with a stained shade. A clock to keep track of the time. That was about it. You poured yourself a small glass of water from the jug and swallowed the Rad-X down, a bitter taste coating the inside of your mouth. Pulling a face, you took a fidgety seat at the foot of the bed to wait for your companion for the night to arrive, leaving your uncomfortable heels on.

Don't take off the shoes before the john gets in there, you'd been told. Some guys like to take everything off themselves.

You were pulled from your ruminations by the sound of the door creaking open, making you startle ever-so-slightly as he entered.

The people at the front desk had almost certainly offered to take his hat and coat, but it seemed he had declined. Maybe he had some particular personal attachment to them, you thought as he shucked the dirty duster, hanging it by the door. The hat remained on as he turned and appraised you, sitting straight on the bed, your hands daintily in your lap. He still wore a few layers, but you took comfort in knowing that he'd had his pockets emptied. They'd let him keep the lasso he'd been wearing, though, and you eyed it cautiously as it hung from his hip.

The ghoul didn't say anything to you as he crossed the room, pouring himself a tall glass of water and sitting in the chair, drinking it down as he stared at you. That sent you squirming ever so slightly, uncertain of how you were supposed to react.

"So, how long have you been in town?" you asked, eager to fill the silence. He didn't answer for an unsettlingly long time, finishing the first glass of water and pouring another.

"Long enough. Just blowing through." he replied, brim over his eyes and glass over his mouth.

"Ah." you responded, unsure what else to say to that. Things were quiet again for a long time, several minutes passing as you watched him dig an inhaler out of his pocket and take a long drag. You weren't sure what it was; you'd recognize a Jet container. Lots of people used it.

"I was surprised you wanted me for the whole night." you confessed.

"That right?" he responded. "Not in this line of work long, eh?"

"Oh. Uh, I guess." you replied, taken aback by that. "It's just that all night's a long time."

You were trying to make your voice as sweet and seductive as possible, despite the tingle of worry creeping up your spine.

"It sure is." he replied, a glint in his eye that you couldn't read. It frightened you a little, but you told yourself you were overreacting. Another few minutes passed by, another puff of the inhaler, before he raised his hand, still wearing those thick gloves, and beckoned you over. You stood, somewhat shakily walked over to stand in front of him as he sat reclined in the chair, and waited for him to direct you.

"Alright," he said, voice calm as ever as he suddenly produced a long, slender blade from...somewhere. "let's get that outfit off."

This, of course, sent you screaming, turning quickly to flee towards the door. However, he quickly appeared behind you, a hand moving to cover your mouth with one of those filthy gloves as he yanked you back into his chest, making you stumble in those awful shoes. The smell of leather and gunpowder washed over you.

"Jesus Christ." he said, mild annoyance in his tone as he held you almost effortlessly with the one arm. "If you're already screamin' like this when we ain't even had any fun, maybe you ain't cut out for this, baby doll. Never seen a knife before?"

Your hollering choked down into a little cry as the strange-smelling glove muffled you, as you took in what he said. You desperately didn't want to fuck up this job on your literal first night, didn't want to lose a chance to have some stability, a roof over your head. But you couldn't stop the way your brain screamed at you to run. He brought the blade back up to your eye level, turning it to and fro, as if to show it off to you, the small silver blade glinting dangerously in the lamplight.

"You aren't supposed to have that." you whimpered between his fingers, trembling.

"Lotsa people do things they aren't supposed to in this world." was his reply as he slid the blade directly between your breasts, slicing through the crop top from hem to collar. You swore you felt the blade swipe your skin, and it made you gasp in fear, but when you looked, the skin was untouched.

His hands made quick work of the button and zipper of your skirt, dropping it around you feet and leaving you standing before him in nothing but your underwear and your uncomfortable shoes, your heart clamoring in your rib cage.

Looking you up and down once more, he stepped back and took in the whole scene before slinking back down into the chair in the corner, his hands moving down to undo his own belt and fly. He paused, however, to invite you forward again, urging you to close the few foot distance between you. You moved as instructed, still shaken as you stood a foot or so in front of him.

"Kneel."

Carefully, you lowered yourself down onto the scuffed old floor, cool against your bare knees as you looked up at him.

From this angle, it was much easier to see his whole face, including his eyes, and they were gorgeous. You hadn't noticed before, between the nerves and the hat, that they were like pools of dark honey. They distracted you so much that you missed him actually tugging his cock free. When you looked down at it, you were pleasantly surprised at how normal it looked, save for the radiation-roughened texture of the skin. Save for that, all the normal parts were there in normal quantities. You let out a very soft sigh of relief.

"Well, go on." he said, brandishing the thing at you like a weapon. "If you're gonna be a whore, you gotta act like one."

You could feel yourself pouting at his statement, and you hated it, hated the way his words rang through your brain, but you felt some ease at finally getting into something you had experience with, at least. Promptly crawling forward the last foot or so, you let yourself sit a tad more comfortably, leaning forward and reaching out to wrap your fingers around him.

"Uh-uh." he corrected, stopping you in your tracks. "If you're any good at it, you shouldn't need your hands."

This gave you some pause, scanning him over as your palms came to rest on the bit of exposed chair between his legs. Slowly, you leaned forward and dragged your tongue along the underside of his erection, sending it twitching at the contact. The man sitting before you hummed in approval, fully reclining against the back of the chair to watch you closely as you cocked your head somewhat awkwardly to allow your lips to wrap around the tip. He tasted differently than you were accustomed to, you thought as you began to let your head bob up and down on the first few inches of him, your tongue running along the leaking slit; there was an almost metallic aftertaste to him, like licking a cap.

"There you go." he praised lowly as you slid down to take as much of him as you comfortably could, his right hand coming to softly fist in your hair. The movement made you vaguely suspicious, and rightly so, as a few moments later, his other hand joined the first, and together they held your head in place, his hips pistoning up to fuck your face. You tolerated it well, only gagging at the last few thrusts when it seemed he was trying to push deeper and deeper. When you did, the sensation made him pull your head back, his saliva-coated cock laying against his leather-clad stomach as he appraised you, his eyes largely obscured again, drool all over your lips and chin.

"Let's move over to the bed, shall we?" he said, already standing by the time he finished.

Awkwardly, you attempted to right yourself out of your kneeling posture, but before you could even try, he stooped and grabbed you around the waist, tossing you over his shoulder like you weighed absolutely nothing. He was so strong and it made you blush as an indignant sound left you.

"Hey!" you let out before you could stop yourself. You weren't supposed to complain, but it felt like he was almost antagonizing you.

"Allow me." he replied, shooting you a look over his shoulder.

He dropped you down back onto the foot of the bed rather unceremoniously, your hair falling in your face and eyes; when you moved it away again, the switchblade was back in his hand, and you screamed again, unable to stop yourself.

"Keep it comin', sweetheart. I doubt anyone's rushing in here to help you. Honestly, I think they'd respond quicker if you quit screamin' for too long." he said, mocking.

"Quit scaring me and I'll quit screaming!" you shot back, righting yourself so that you were at least properly sitting upright.

"Boy, you sure do love to run that filthy little cocksucking mouth of yours, don'tcha?" he sneered, grabbing your hair again and yanking you close. "Pretty sure I'm payin' you to put out, not to bitch."

The blade traced back down your cleavage to dig into the waistband of your black bra, quickly slicing through it as well and sending your breasts popping out, the now damaged garment hanging uselessly from your arms. The ghoul insistently urged you down onto your back by your hair, and you followed, your legs dangling over the foot of the bed past your knee. For a moment, he simply looked at you.

"Open your mouth." he demanded, leaning over you.

You did as you were told, the command not unusual, but then he puckered his lips and let a rather large gob of spit fall onto your tongue, sending you gagging and scrambling to sit up.

"Nope. Swallow it." he said, maintaining that painful grip against your scalp, keeping you on your back. "You need to remember where your place is right about now, girlie."

Incensed, you hesitated a moment before forcing yourself to do as he told you. Your face was burning bright red with humiliation. He was still leaning over you, bringing the sharp edge close to your skin again. You steeled yourself, calling his bluff despite how dangerous that felt, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, challenging him as he traced the point across your flesh.

"Such pretty, smooth skin." he muttered, watching your reaction closely. "Looks good enough to slice a piece off and eat..."

As he spoke, he let the sharpened edge dig fully into the side of your breast, and you let out a whimper, your stomach rolling at the feeling, at his words. You were certain he was about to really hurt you.

However, he stopped after a moment, pulling the thing away to reveal nothing more than a thin red dash the length of the blade. A kitten scratch. A joke. You looked to him rather incredulously, and he rolled his eyes, folding the edge back into its handle, showing you that it was fully closed before tossing it across the room, landing with a thud in the chair.

"Since you're so afraid of it." he taunted, putting his hands on your hips to flip you onto your stomach. "Hands and knees. Face down."

A frustrated huff escaped you at this newest little jape as you pulled yourself up into the proper position, watching him out of the corner of your eye, your face buried in the musty mattress. It was hard to focus your vision like this, but you watched him move up towards the head of the bed until you couldn't see him anymore. There was a sound you couldn't put your finger on, quick and quiet, but by the time you could even hazard a guess at what it was, he'd seized your right arm by the wrist and was wrapping the rope he'd been carrying around it, finishing it off with a knot. This was enough for you to risk a quick glimpse in his direction, only to see that he'd used the lasso to tie your arm to the head of the bed. Your heart raced as he gave the knot at the headboard a yank before disappearing behind you, tugging your collar loose and dropping it on the floor.

He left the heels on.

"It's funny that these fancy casinos think all these dirtbags and desert rats'll come in here and just give up every weapon they have willingly. That's not how things work out there, and it's still not how they work in here, no matter how much they pretend it is." he mused, his voice making it seem almost as if he were talking to himself and not you. His still-gloved hand petted at the round globe of your ass.

Now you were annoyed. Why was he fucking with you like this?

"Are you a dirtbag or a desert rat?" you muttered into the sheets, jumping when he suddenly grabbed you by your hair again in response, holding you tight in his grip as he forced you to look at him.

"I'm the first thing, darlin'. It'll be good for you to learn the difference." he said, actually smirking at you, at the pained look on your face as the feeling once more burned in your scalp, one of his hands slowly moving up the back of your thigh to stroke your mound over your underwear. Quickly, he pushed them aside, his longest finger tracing up and down your embarrassingly wet slit, and you bit your lips hard to muffle the moan you wanted to let out.

Soon, he was working that finger inside you, then another, and another, all in quick succession; this wasn't about making you feel good, it was about making sure you could take him properly. You could feel the head of his cock nudging against your bare ass cheek, leaking and throbbing. He was eager, no matter how cool and calm he seemed to be.

"Spread your legs more." he mumbled, knee pushing at your right leg to "help" you open yourself wider for him. You did as much as possible, feeling like you could fall at any moment. However, you tensed again when you felt the tip of him slip through your folds, collecting some of the wetness there before sliding down to press at your entrance. You held your breath.

It burned when he pushed inside, though whether that was because of the rough texture of his skin or because you weren't completely prepared, you didn't know. He didn't give you much time to adjust to his size, simply bracing one knee against the mattress as he began to fuck you. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room, his blunt cock head slamming painfully against your cervix.

At one point, he shifted himself higher over you, seeking a way to be deeper inside. The change in angle caused the slick head of his cock to slip out of you for a moment, pressing against your taut asshole for just a split second, but it was enough to make you panic, squirming wildly beneath him. Pure fear shot up your spine. He only laughed sardonically, tugging your hair to make you look over your shoulder at him.

"You're lucky I ain't real mean, sweetheart." he murmured, slamming his cock back into your leaking, sore cunt. The way it hit hard against your already tender cervix made you whimper, but you were glad he didn't do what you'd thought he was gonna do. It was upsetting you that you weren't more upset, frankly. The whole thing made you wanna be sick, especially the part where you were insanely close to orgasm suddenly.

"The funniest part of all this is that you're still gettin' off on it." he called you out as if he could read your mind.

You desperately shook your head, silent tears beginning to run down your cheeks and tickle onto your chin. You weren't enjoying this, weren't enjoying the rough way he was using you. You certainly weren't enjoying those strangely captivating eyes pinning you as he held you down.

"Please." he scolded. "It's one thing to be a whore. It's another thing to be a liar."

That actually managed to draw an embarrassing little sniffle from you; not his taunts, but the fact that you were fluttering so enthusiastically around him at his words. The man on top of you tilted his head again at this, watching you teeter on the edge of something terribly amazing.

"Poor pretty thing." he cooed with fake sympathy, rubbing away an errant tear with his thumb. Your neck ached at the angle he was holding it at. "Open."

You obeyed, and he spat in your mouth again. It actually didn't have much taste, and you swallowed with no complaint, your brain foggy from the rough way he was fucking you. The feeling of humiliation was still there, creeping hot up your back, but it also made you clench hard around him.

"Fuck." he snarled, suddenly pulling back from you, standing beside the bed again, one hand jerking himself as he grabbed you up onto your knees once more, his fist in your hair as he rubbed and slapped his throbbing cock against your face.

"Open your fuckin' mouth." he growled, pushing himself as far back down your throat as he could go as soon as you did, both hands cupping the back of your head as he skull-fucked you with wild abandon. Your hands braced on his hips, your efforts to blunt his thrusts futile. You gagged and choked and drooled as he used your throat; embarrassingly, one of your hands appeared on your swollen, aching clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he began to throb.

"Shit, girlie, you're gonna make me cum." he panted, pulling himself back from you, leaving you sputtering for air as he resumed rubbing his cockhead on your lips and cheeks. His eyes were burning into yours. "Better keep your mouth closed."

You clenched your lips between your teeth just as the first jet of his release hit your cheek, much thicker and hotter than you'd anticipated, another and then another, seemingly an endless amount covering your entire lower face, dribbling from your lips and chin as he groaned and growled his way through it. Your hand was still rubbing furiously between your legs, and he must've noticed, slipping his fingers down in place of yours and rubbing those same circles, his rough touch just what you needed to fall over the edge as well, moaning loudly as your whole body seized.

Everything was eerily quiet and calm as you both let your breathing settle, one hand supporting his weight against the wall by the head of the bed for a moment, his eyes hidden by the hat once more. Surprisingly, he undid the knot at the headboard, then the one around your wrist, tossing the rope down onto the floor next to the bed as he went rummaging around in his pockets. You noticed that he was tucked back away into his pants. Suddenly, a dingy handkerchief was pressed into your palm; it took you a moment to realize that he intended for you to clean the mess from your face with it.

You set to it, the incredibly thick, almost gelatinous substance difficult to wipe away with the thin square of cloth, but you managed to make it happen. Mostly. As you tidied yourself, he pulled the inhaler from one pocket and a rumpled pack of cigarettes from another, taking a puff and jamming a cig between his thin, cracked lips. He paused to hold the pack out to you, and you shook your head.

"You can take a break, kid. We've got all night." he said, lighting the smoke and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

You supposed he was right; you were absolutely exhausted physically after that whole ordeal, and it was his time. If he was alright with you resting some, you'd rest some. Carefully, you crawled up and laid your head on one of the pillows, your side against his back as he sat there, smoking and righting his clothes. In the back of your head, a little bug nagged at you.

"How did you know?" you asked, voice almost timid.

"Hmm?" he replied, his focus seemingly on re-winding the lasso.

"How did you know that, uh, tonight's my first night on the job?"

This got him to turn to you, a mischievous, but not unkind gleam in his gaze.

"I watched you for a while. Just got off the tram when you came outside, wanted a smoke. Noticed you. Couldn't not notice you. You looked like a nervous little bunny out there, just waitin' for a hawk to come and snatch you up."

"So you decided to be the hawk?"

"Yep."

You were both quiet again at this, the perfectly coiled rope now sitting near your feet. Outside, you could hear the clinking of glasses, the drunken laughter of gamblers and bar patrons. Your eyelids were so heavy.

You'd sort of assumed that you would want to cry yourself to sleep after what you'd been through, between the roller coaster of emotions and the general humiliation of it all; oddly enough, you didn't. Instead, you drifted off into a brief, fitful rest, dreaming of disgusting leather gloves and radiation-pillaged skin.

The Strip at twilight was quite the sight, the neon and bright colors washed mute by the early morning hues. It would be nice to stop and admire if you weren't so desperate to get out of town.

As much as you were loathe to admit it, the ghoul you'd been with the night before was right; you absolutely weren't cut out for this. You'd hated every single second of trying to entice people to pay you for sex, the way people had looked and leered at you as they'd gone by. Besides, your employers gave you the impression that they didn't have your best interest at heart. They also gave you the creeps.

And if anyone in the future wanted to go further than he had, you now knew you wouldn't be able to handle it. Though, you'd be lying if you said that you hadn't learned some things about yourself.

An unidentifiable feeling passed over you as you thought of him.

You'd awoken, shocked you'd managed to sleep at all, with quite the start, eyes frantically jumping to the clock to find that only about half an hour had passed. To your genuine surprise, the ghoul was gone, several hours still left in the time he'd paid for. The jug of water on the table was empty. You'd waited dutifully, naked on the bed, for the remainder of his time slot. You'd even kept the heels on. At first, you'd wondered if he'd maybe gone to the bar for a drink. But after another hour passed, you were fairly certain he wasn't coming back. Despite yourself, you were strangely disappointed.

At the end of his paid time, the end of your shift, you checked back in at the desk, collected your pay, and immediately went upstairs to collect your things.

Your meager possessions were few enough to fit into a little drawstring; you'd cast a quick glimpse at the destroyed shirt the man had cut off of you, crumpled on the floor with the rest of your uniform after you'd changed back into your dingy street clothes, before tucking it away into the bag. You weren't sure why. After that, you'd tucked the bag up inside your jacket, calmly walked outside for a "smoke", and kept walking until you made it outside the walls of Freeside, feeling like there were eyes on you the whole way. It was only once you were past the border of the junk fences that you allowed yourself to pause and take a shaky breath.

"You made the right choice." came a familiar drawl from behind you.

The voice startled you, already on edge as you worried about being followed from the casino, sending you freezing in the middle of the decaying road. Through the dusty haze, you could make out his hat and coat, emerging from behind a barricade of concrete, smoke in hand. The big gun was back in its place, slung loosely across his broad shoulders.

"You scared me." you hissed, your hand resting on your flying heart.

He tilted his head at you, those hauntingly beautiful eyes scanning you. He gave a shrug, which was very apparently not an apology.

"Where you headed?" he asked.

"I dunno." you confessed flatly, trying your best to not fidget in place. "Not here."

He took a long, long drag off of his smoke before dropping it into the dirt, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot before looking up at you underneath the brim of that accursed hat. Everything felt very familiar, all of the sudden. Another transaction waiting to happen.

"Quite the coincidence. I'm also headed 'not here'." he replied, quietly assessing you as he leaned against the barricade, lighting another cig.

You hesitated for a moment before responding, considering some things. But eventually, you replied, tone teasing:

"Looking for some company, are you?"

He smirked at you, smoldering cigarette hanging loosely between those vicious teeth.

"Sure am. Interested?"

You crossed the rest of the way over to him, standing close. The smell of leather and gunpowder washed over you once more.

"If you've got the caps, handsome."

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

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itadorey · 1 year

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[6:58 pm]

pairing: al-haitham x gn!reader

the first thing al-haitham hears when he walks into his apartment is a crash followed by an annoyed "ow!".

he sighs deeply before trudging into the living room, being met with the sight of you and kaveh sprawled out on the ground, limbs entangled as kaveh tries to push you off of him.

"what exactly is happening here?"

the sound of al-haitham's stern voice makes the two of you freeze, and you slowly turn your head to send the dendro user a soft smile. he can't help but smile back in return.

"a little help, please?" kaveh asks, ignoring al-haitham's question and reaching a hand out for him to take. his smile falls as he ignores kaveh's hand, reaching down to instead grab your hand and pull you off the floor. you stumble a bit as you regain your footing, hand coming up to rest against al-haitham's chest in an attempt to steady yourself.

you feel his hands go to your waist, holding you gingerly as he ducks down to meet your eyes. "are you okay?"

"y-yeah," you reply breathlessly, clearing your throat before finally meeting his eyes. your breath gets caught in your throat when you realize how close he is, and you silently admit to yourself that you are not immune to his charm, whether he's aware that he has it or not. a quiet gasp escapes your lips as you take a step back, pain shooting up your ankle as you put your weight on it. al-haitham wastes no time in pulling you closer, keeping you from tumbling down onto kaveh once again.

"are you sure you're okay?' he asks again, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to come up with an explanation on his own. "what happened?"

"we were being stupid!" kaveh cries out, dramatically throwing his arm across his eyes. "we thought we could hang those stupid picture frames up on our own but we were quickly proven wrong."

you giggle at kaveh's response, your laughter turning into a yelp when al-haitham picks you up and begins to walk further into the apartment.

"what are you doing?" you ask, grabbing onto al-haitham's shoulders. "put me down! i'm perfectly capable of walking on my own."

"quit complaining and let me take care of you," al-haitham mutters, shaking his head as you keep protesting.

"no! it's fine! i don't want to be a bother."

"then make it up to me," he interrupts, keeping his eyes forwards as he adjusts his hold on you. "i take care of you, and you join me for dinner afterwards. that sound like a fair trade?"

your mouth falls open at his words, and you sputter for a moment as you try to figure out what to say. the smile pulling at al-haitham's lips only helps in making you feel more flustered. "o-okay. yeah, that sounds good."

"great," al-haitham replies, humming in approval before walking into the bathroom and closing the door. he sits you down before kneeling in front of you, catching your gaze before reaching down to gently poke your ankle.

"is this okay?" he asks, eyes softening when you nod. he straightens up, hands on either side of you as he leans in slowly. "what about this?"

you nod again, exhaling shakily as you lean forward to meet him halfway. his eyes flutter shut and your hands come up to cup his face when the moment is suddenly ruined, kaveh's voice clearly audible even through the closed door.

"hey! what about me? aren't you going to help me up?"

wc: 589 reblogs are appreciated <3

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #al-haitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #alhaitham x you #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact #alhaitham #al haitham

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placeholder-mcd · 16 days

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(Obligatory "I sound like I'm speaking objectively from authority but this is just my opinion and it's okay for you to like media I dislike for whatever reasons you may have")

Okay so like. while "the minecraft move trailer is so bad that it makes minecraft story mode look good in comparison" is both true and funny, can we please not start pretending that story mode is a well-crafted piece of media. as someone who has played through it multiple times (first when it originally came out and I was 12 and thought it was awesome, then later as an interactive Netflix experience with friends for so-bad-it's-good reasons) I feel pretty qualified to say it blows

Like, yes. There are so many things that MCSM got right that the movie apparently got wrong. But, like, they're all extremely common-sense things to get right -- like having the whole thing be animated, and maintaining a visual style that feels consistent with minecraft, and spending time with individual aspects of the minecraft experience that have their own communities (like redstone contraptions). that sense seems a little less common now that the movie trailer exists, but still, these are all bare minimum expectations of a piece of narrative-driven media set in Minecraft.

MCSM still completely fails, however, to have any compelling characters (RIP Reuben you were just as annoying as everyone else) or non-grating dialogue. The universe they depict isn't even well thought out! Like, okay, example:

Right off the bat, they make a big decision about how they're going to handle MCSM: they are not telling a story about people playing Minecraft the video game, but are instead depicting a universe where Minecraft is inhabited by a civilization of NPCs that have identical abilities to a player (aside from like, pausing the game or changing settings or what have you). This, in itself, is not a bad decision, but it puts the writers in a position where they need to conceptualize what is effectively a Minecraft AU. You're not playing survival mode or creative mode, you're playing Story mode. In this AU, humans exist in the minecraft world and have for a long time (centuries, at least?), they've built cities, they have language, etc. Imagine you're Jesse. Imagine you've grown up inside of Minecraft. Everyone is playing on hardcore, there is no respawning, and you live in a world filled with strange and dangerous creatures that seem hell-bent on killing you. Why the Fuck does anyone go out at night. Why isn't literally everyone combat-trained. Why is Jesse acting like he's never seen a Creeper before. Why is Petra the only member of the main party who knows how to craft a pickaxe.

At the build competition, the party is surprised that the reigning building team has a beacon. But nobody takes a second to actually investigate what that means. Did their team intentionally spawn and defeat a Wither? Doesn't that make them more badass and legendary than the order of the stone? Is there a black market for nether stars? (I think Petra is probably the one who gave them the beacon since she also trades Ivan a Wither skull. But like. Why isn't literally anyone else just going and doing what Petra does. Why aren't they impressed)

Ivan having access to a Command Block is also insane. Like, it has potential to be an extremely cool choice -- did Ivan find a way to break the fourth wall? Did he find an exploit in Minecrafts code that allowed him to obtain this? The command block has the power to just generate resources out of thin air. Ivan could actually use it to become a god and give himself creative mode. But okay, we can assume that the command block is just... Different, in the AU. Fine. It's a computing center / power core for the Wither Storm. Sure

But, like. I, even as an 11 year old, knew everything there was to know about minecraft when I played story mode (and, unlike the Movie, MCSM was actually attempting to appeal to the existing fanbase), so watching these characters who have lived for DECADES within the Minecraft universe just. Be helpless and completely clueless as to how the universe works? It makes me hate like all of them. I don't care about Jesse or Gabriel and if I actually had the freedom to perform the basic actions I could perform in Minecraft -- mining, building, and crafting -- I could use my game knowledge to pretty swiftly end the entire conflict at like any point in the story. And I'm not very good at video games. But I would expect a character who's been LIVING IN THE MINECRAFT WORLD TO BE ABLE TO DO THAT. BECAUSE THEY'D BE BETTER AT MINECRAFT THAN ANY OF US.

The whole thing is a contrived and buggy mess that feels like it was written by a Hollywood CEO who watched someone play the game for 30 minutes, looked up some basic information like how to beat the game and whether there's any in-game lore, and then riffed on that until a script outline was finished. The programmers, visual artists, and composers clearly did a ton of work to make MCSM feel like minecraft. And they did a good job -- clearly, a much better job than the Movie is going to do. But that doesn't change the fact that the Story -- the focal element advertised in the title -- completely misses the fucking mark and centers around a group of characters who are largely incompetent and stupid in an unfunny and uninteresting way. MCSM was a shitty cashgrab by telltale games and I am not apologizing to it.

#I know very little about the fanmade remake that's in production #But I am open to the idea of it being good #I hope they change the story to an appropriate extent so it's actually bearable #But even if it's just an audiovisual remaster with the same shit plot and dialogue I will still watch and support the project #Because it seems like such a labor of love and because I'm interested in how different it will be #minecraft #minecraft movie #minecraft story mode #rant post #media critique

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songbirdseung · 8 months

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ALBUMS AND PHOTOCARDS / EN-

synopsis: your boyfriend gets upset that you don't pull his photocard from their recent comeback's album.

HEESEUNG 이희승 ~

might print out his picture and slap it on the other member's pc

silly little baby

"what do you mean you wanted jake's pc?"

You enter your shared apartment, excitedly clutching the latest album from your boyfriend group. Heeseung watches you with keen interest, his eyes shining with excitement as he imagines the possibility of you pulling his photocard. You carefully open the album, and as you flip through the pages, you notice Heeseung's expression growing increasingly hopeful.

You pull out the first card and, to Heeseung's dismay, it's not him. His face falls, and he looks at you with a mix of disappointment and disbelief.

"What do you mean you wanted Jake's PC?" Heeseung ask, genuinely confused. Heeseung pouts, crossing his arms like a sulking child. You can't help but chuckle at his adorable sulking. "Come on, baby, it's just luck. Let's check the other cards."

As you continue pulling out the photocards, Heeseung's hope slowly fades with each passing moment. Finally, you reach the last card, and it's still not him. Heeseung lets out a dramatic sigh, throwing himself back on the couch. "Maybe I should just print out my picture and slap it on the other member's PC," he says, half-jokingly.

You burst into laughter at his playful threat. "You wouldn't do that, would you?" Heeseung grins mischievously.

You roll your eyes playfully, realizing that his disappointment is all in good fun. "Okay, okay, I'll make it up to you. How about we take a cute selfie together and print it out to put in the album?" Heeseung's eyes light up at the suggestion, and he quickly grabs his phone.

JAY 박종성 ~

doesn't really mind

if it is Jungwon, he might even take it from you

"i'll just get you mine tomorrow at work"

He's sprawled out on the couch, engrossed in his phone, but he looks up with a bright smile as you approach. Excitedly, you sit down next to him and begin opening the album. Jay watches with interest but doesn't seem too invested in the outcome. As you pull out the first card, and it's not Jay.

He glances at it briefly before turning back to his phone, seemingly unfazed. "Oh, nice. Sunghoon's card. That's cool." You look at him in surprise. "Aren't you disappointed it's not yours?"

Jay chuckles, shaking his head. "Nah, I don't really mind. It's all random luck anyway." You continue pulling out the remaining photocards, and Jay remains nonchalant, showing no signs of disappointment. As you finish, you look at him curiously. "You're really okay with this? I thought you'd want me to have your own PC."

He smirks playfully. "If it was Jungwon, he might've snatched it from you, but I'm cool. Besides, I'll just get you mine tomorrow at work."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, really? You have a plan, huh?" Jay nods, grinning. "Absolutely. I'll trade with someone or sneak into the storage room. No worries; I got this." You happily oblige, snapping a cute picture with Jay, grateful for his carefree approach to the whole situation.

JAKE 심재윤 ~

petty

will go to the company and switch it for his photocard

"Jay's overrated anyway, here's mine"

You burst into the room, Jake looks up from his game console, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he grins at you. "Hey there, ready for the moment of truth?" you tease, holding up the album.

Jake smirks, leaning back on the couch. "Oh, I've been waiting for this. Make sure you get my PC, okay?" You roll your eyes playfully and begin unboxing the album. You pull out the first card, and it's not Jake. He raises an eyebrow, looking at you with mock disappointment. Jay's overrated anyway," he declares, crossing his arms. "Here's mine."

Before you can react, he reaches into his bag and dramatically gives you his own photocard, as if he had planned this all along. You stare at him in disbelief. "Wait, did you seriously bring your own photocard just in case I didn't pull yours?" you ask, incredulous.

Jake grins, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "You never know with these things. Gotta be prepared, right?" You can't help but laugh at his level of pettiness. "Okay, Mr. Sim. I'll remember that for next time."

But Jake isn't done. He smirks even wider. "You know what? I think I'll go to the company tomorrow and switch Jay's PC for mine."

You burst into laughter, finding his over-the-top response hilarious. "Jake, seriously? You're going to go all the way to the company just for that?" He nods, completely serious. "Absolutely. It's a matter of principle."

SUNGHOON 박성훈 ~

pretends to not care

but deep inside he's a little cranky'

"it's whatever, just a piece of paper"

"Alright, let's see if I got your photocard," you say, flipping through the pages. Sunghoon glances at you briefly, a faint smile playing on his lips. As you reveal the first photocard, it's not Sunghoon's. You show it to him, expecting a reaction, but he simply shrugs, maintaining his facade of indifference.

"It's whatever, just a piece of paper," he says coolly, avoiding eye contact. You give him a skeptical look. "Come on, don't tell me you don't care at all. It's your own photocard!"

Sunghoon remains composed, feigning disinterest. "I mean, it's nice to have, but it's not a big deal. Just a picture, right?" You continue pulling out the remaining photocards, and each time, Sunghoon's poker face remains intact. However, deep down, you can sense a slight crankiness building up.

"Seriously, Hoon, I thought you'd be more excited," you comment, teasingly poking his side. He smirks, finally breaking character. "Okay, fine, maybe I wanted my girlfriend to have my own photocard. Just a little."

You chuckle at his admission. "I knew it" Sunghoon grins, rubbing the back of his neck. "But hey, let's take a selfie together. That way, I'll have a better picture than any photocard." As you capture a picture with Sunghoon, you can't help but appreciate his attempt at nonchalance, even though the tiny bit of crankiness underneath only makes him more endearing.

SUNOO 김선우 ~

packed your album himself

so he doesnt have to worry about it

"i didnt want you carrying another man's photo around"

"Guess what I did?" he says, holding up the album in his hands. You raise an eyebrow, curious. "What did you do, Sunoo?"

He beams proudly. "I packed your album for you. No need for you to worry about pulling another man's photo." You chuckle at his playfulness. "Oh, really? And how did you manage that?"

Sunoo stands up, presenting the neatly packed album to you. "I made sure your hand went straight to my photocard. No room for mistakes!" You burst into laughter. "You're quite the strategist, aren't you?"

He nods, looking pleased with himself. "Of course! I didn't want you carrying another man's photo around. It's all about loyalty." As you both sit down to unbox the album, Sunoo watches with anticipation. Sure enough, as you reach the photocard, there it is – Sunoo's smiling face. "See? I told you I got this!" he exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

JUNGWON 양정원 ~

pouty wonie

but if your happy with your pull, he'll accept it

"you like it right, okay, im happy then."

There's a hopeful glimmer in his eyes as he watches you approach. You sit down beside him and begin to open the album, but as you see the card, you notice a pout forming on Jungwon's lips. It's clear he's hoping for a specific result. As you pull out the first photocard, Jungwon's eyes fixate on it. His disappointment is palpable, but he quickly tries to hide it behind a forced smile.

"Oh, Ni-Ki's photocard. That's cool," he says, attempting to sound casual. You can't help but sense his slight disappointment. "Are you sure you're okay with it, Wonie? I can always try to trade it for yours."

Jungwon's pout deepens, but he shakes his head, trying to be supportive. "No, no, it's fine. If you like it, then it's all good." You decide to tease him a bit. "Are you sure? You seem a bit pouty."

He lets out a dramatic sigh. "Okay, maybe I was hoping for my own photocard. Just a little." You chuckle at his honesty. "Well, I guess I'll have to pull yours next time. You can't have it every comeback, right?"

Jungwon nods, his pout softening into a small smile. "True. As long as you're happy with your pull, I'm happy too." You show him the rest of the photocards, and he manages to stay enthusiastic, even if a bit pouty. When you finish, he looks at you earnestly.

"You like it, right? Okay, I'm happy then," he says, and this time, his smile is genuine. You give him a grateful smile in return. "Of course, Wonie. Your photocard is always my favorite." Jungwon's pout disappears, replaced by a contented expression. Even if he didn't get his own photocard this time, your happiness is what matters most to him.

NI-KI 西村力 ~

it's either he rolls his eyes in disappointment or he doesn't care

might just send you 100 selfies instead

"i'm just that rare to get"

His reaction is swift – either he rolls his eyes in disappointment or he simply looks at you, unfazed. If he rolls his eyes, he quips, "Seriously? Again?" in a playful yet slightly disappointed tone.

You try to soothe his disappointment, saying, "Hey, it's just luck. I'll get yours next time, I promise." Ni-ki might continue rolling his eyes, but there's a small smirk on his face, implying he's not too bothered.

If he doesn't care, he simply shrugs and says, "Eh, it's whatever. Not a big deal." You look at him, surprised. "Really? You're not disappointed?" Ni-ki smirks, reaching for his phone. "Nah, I'll just send you a hundred selfies to make up for it."

You laugh at his carefree attitude. "A hundred selfies? Isn't that a bit excessive?" He grins, holding up his phone. "I'm just that rare to get. Gotta make the most of it."

You shake your head, amused by his playful response. "Alright, Ni-ki, I'll gladly take those selfies. But next time, I'll make sure to pull your photocard." He chuckles, giving you a playful nudge. "Good luck. I'm counting on you."

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #engene #enha #enhypen x reader #heeseung #jay #jongseong #jake jaeyun #sunghoon #sunoo #jake #jungwon #ni-ki #nishimura riki

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in1-nutshell · 8 months

Note

Hello again! I hope you don't mind, I want to try G1 request, please. Megatron have a child that is quiet, fair, gentle, respectful, and wise heir. In battle, the Decepticon Heir will get very serious and stern in battle and will lead the Decepticons into battle when Megatron is not available and make sure not one of them doesn't get killed in their watch. One of Soundwaves cassettes - Rumble, is in dangerous condition, one of the Autobots nearly finished him off before The Heir fiercely protected Rumble and carried him to the medics, which saved his life. The Decepticon Heir is sick of losses of their people - Decepticons, Neutrals, even Autobots altogether. A few days later, Decepticon Heir and Optimus somehow got separated from others in the battle while they fight each other alone. At a stroke of luck, the Heir managed knocked Optimus down. The Heir is about to kill Optimus, but changed their mind. The Heir said, "I'm sick of this war. Someday, I hope we won't have to be enemies in the future. Farewell, Prime." And then walked away. Megatron, Soundwave, and Optimus Prime. Please and thank you.

YES! We are on a roll with Megs having a child aren't we? Though G1 Megatron does have a different relationship with this Buddy (as well as his little sparkling is BIGGER than him). I sneaked in some extra things in there.

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron with a kid who spared their enemy in battle with Optimus Prime, Megatron, and Soundwave

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Romantic, Angst, Hurt and Comfort, mention of injuries but nothing too graphic, Cybertronain reader

Being Megatron’s child wasn’t the best thing in the world, but they wouldn’t trade it either.

Buddy made themselves quite tight knitted with their fellow Decepticons.

Yes, even Starscream was a part of the family.

They saw that together they would be able to make a difference.

Sure, some of their family’s ways were a bit dysfunctional, but Buddy still loved them.

Soundwave walking down the corridor while looking over some datapads.

Buddy carrying Frenzy, Rumble and Skywarp sprinting past him.

“RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!”--Frenzy

“CAN’T YOU GO ANY FASTER?!”--Skywarp

“I WOULD BUT I HAVE THE THREE OF YOU ON ME!”--Buddy

Starscream shrieking in the background.

“BUDDY!”--Rumble

“Skywarp why don’t you warp us outta here?!”--Frenzy

“Well—”--Skywarp

“Absolutely not! I’d rather run all around the Nemesis with you three digging into my spinal struts than get stuck in a wall again!”--Buddy

Buddy was closer to Soundwave and his cassettes.

Being one of the only other Decepticons making sure things were running smoothly, Buddy found themselves working with him more than Megatron himself.

Sure, Buddy and Megatron did have their little bonding moments, but lately it had seemed as if Megatron was more concerned with Prime than with them.

“Behold my master plan!”--Megatron

A copy clone of Optimus Prime coming out of the supply closet.

“…Megatron what is that?”--Buddy

“It is a copy of the original Optimus Prime. This will sure—”--Megatron

“Hold on. So, you just so happen to have this copy with you… in the closet…”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Megatron

“… Why?”--Buddy

“Because… because… that’s not important right now.”--Megtraon

“I feel like it should be.”--Buddy

“Shh! Now, we have a chance to defeat the—”--Megatron

Buddy and Soundwave having a telepathic conversation about getting rid of the copy as soon as the plan goes south.

They found some solace with Soundwave and the cassettes.

Buddy especially became acquainted with Rumble.

If Buddy was hanging out with one of the cassettes, they were most likely near or with Rumble.

There had been a lot of teasing within the ranks about the two, but nothing serious.

Buddy nor Rumble really minded that much. If fact they sometimes decided to use that teasing to their advantage or entertainment.

Buddy walking down the hall with Rumble sitting on their shoulders.

“Look who it is, the two love birds. What lovey dovey plans do you have today?”--Skywarp

“Can it Skywarp!”--Rumble

“Make me pipsqueak!”--Skywarp

Rumble was about to make a move when Buddy caught his pede, without looking from their data pad in their servo.

“Rumble I swear, if you go after Skywarp now when I’m just about to finish this report I will nail you into the wall with one servo.”--Buddy

“Woah! Buddy--”--Skywarp

“Yeah right! Not before I’d nail YOU to the wall so hard that you’d need the entire med crew to help you get back on your pedes!”--Rumble

“Wait what.”--Skywarp

“Bold of you to assume you could even do that Rumble, especially with your height.”--Buddy

“You guys can’t be— this is a joke right?”--Skywarp

“You think heights gonna stop me. I will climb you like those squirrels climb trees! Then we’ll see who’s laughing!”--Rumble

“You know what I’m just going to—”--Skywarp

“Skywarp who do you think is going to nail the other the hardest?”--Rumble

“…”--Skywarp

Skywarp warps away to purge his audials with bleach.

Buddy and Rumble laughing as soon as he warps away.

“It’s fun messing with them like this.”--Rumble

“Agreed. But seriously stop twitching I’m almost done.”--Buddy

“Make—”—Rumble

Buddy grabbing Rumble with one servo pushing him up against the wall while they finish reading their data pad.

“You want to finish that sentence?”--Buddy

Thundercracker turning the corner, sees this, then turns back.

“It is too early for this…”--Thundercracker

Frenzy once gave Buddy a type of shovel talk while the other cassettes in the background watching the show go down.

Soundwave dying a little bit inside with Rumble.

Frenzy standing on top of a bookshelf to gain some height on Buddy.

“—and if you even think about breaking his spark. We will find you and make you look like you went through a trash compactor!”--Frenzy

“Understood Frenzy.”--Buddy

“Don’t do that polite stuff! I mean it!”--Frenzy

“… You know that hurting him is the last thing I would ever want to do, right? I mean I’d never want to hurt Rumble and all but everyone gets hurt one way or another.”--Buddy

“Hmm!”--Frenzy

Ravage and Lazerbeak watching from the berth all of this go down.

“I guess you have my permission to make Rumble’s life the equivalent to a living mine field or whatever.”--Frenzy

“Oh, I’d be honored then.”--Buddy

“And there you go again with the whole ‘honor bound’ and ‘leader’ thing. Drop the act Buddy.”--Frenzy

“It’s called being polite Frenzy. You should try it sometime.”--Buddy

“Aha! There’s the Buddy I’ve been looking for—Oh Primus…”--Frenzy

“What?”--Buddy

Buddy turns around to see Soundwave and Rumble at the door.

“…”—Everyone in the room

“How much did you two heard?”—Buddy

“Information: Starscream now owes Soundwave 20 shanix. Buddy: permission to court Rumble.”--Soundwave

“Soundwave!”—Rumble and Buddy

“Frenzy…”--Buddy

“I swear I didn’t know they were coming back so early!”--Frenzy

“You have 10 nanoseconds of a head start before I catch up.”--Buddy

Megatron didn’t think too much of this when he heard about it, he thought it was a prank.

… After that day Buddy was seen more with Rumble than before.

Megatron is starting to think that maybe that wasn’t a prank… but it could still be a long prank.

A really long prank…

Buddy never lost their cool in the heat of battle.

Both sides knew this. It was something they could all agree on.

Buddy always had a failsafe in case the plans didn’t work out, especially whenever Megatron was not able to lead. The Autobots knew that it was important to keep their guard up during those times.

Today’s battle didn’t seem so different from the regular scrimmages they had in the past, it was almost a game at this point.

Buddy was fighting with against some of the Lambo twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, when they heard their name being called out.

They turned around and they finally got the human saying of ‘everything going in slow motion’.

All they could see was a familiar blast coming straight towards their chassis. They wouldn’t be able to move out of the way if they could. It was going to hit them straight on.

Then Rumble jumped in the way, taking the shot, and fell a few feet from Buddy.

Buddy just stopped and stared at his limp body in horror as well as the Lambo twins and Soundwave. None of them could believe what had just happened.

The twins moved aside when they saw Buddy slowly moving towards him.

Buddy looking at Rumble’s unmoving frame.

“Rumble?”--Buddy

“…”--Rumble

Buddy walking up the body falling to their knees.

“Rumble? Rumble this isn’t funny! Wake up! Please, wake up!”--Buddy

“…”--Rumble

“Rumble? Rumble! RUMBLE?!”--Buddy

“…”--Rumble

The battlefield went still at the sound of an unfamiliar anguished scream.

Buddy was on their knee next to Rumble, servos trembling trying to remember the medical advice Hook had given them not too long ago.

At some point Soundwave came over, but Buddy was focusing on stopping the bleeding with coolant dripping down their faceplate.

Soon the medics arrived. They tried to take Rumble from their servos, Buddy didn’t let go. They opted to instead transport Buddy with Rumble.

Buddy carefully carried Rumble into Astrotrain with Hook.

Everyone else would fly back on their own.

Hook wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he felt sorry for Buddy and let them be by Rumble the entire time grasping his little servo.

“…You know you bought him some time.”--Hook

“What?”--Buddy

“If you hadn’t tried stopping the bleeding, he probably would have been dead 5 minutes ago.”--Hook

“…”--Buddy

“…You did good kid.”--Hook

“… will he—”--Buddy

“I don’t know. It will have to depend on what happens when we get back to base.”--Hook

“…okay…”--Buddy

Soon they all came to the base, Hook needed Buddy to let go, for Rumble’s sake.

Buddy nodded silently and took a seat outside the med bay doors.

As soon as they hit the seat, Buddy let out some stifled sobs and let the coolant run down their faceplate.

Giving a silent prayer to Primus to spare him as their vision blurred once again with all the coolant coming out of their optics.

Buddy staring at their servos, stained with some of Rumble’s energon mixing with their coolant.

“Buddy!”--Frenzy

Buddy turning to see Soundwave and the cassettes coming their way.

“Buddy: Status on Rumble.”--Soundwave

“He… He’s in the med bay now. It looks bad… I’m so sorry.”--Buddy

“Come again?”--Frenzy

“I didn’t protect him. If I’d move faster—”--Buddy

Soundwave grabbing Buddy’s servos gently.

“Rumble status: Not Buddy’s fault.”--Soundwave

“But—”--Buddy

“Not Buddy fault.”--Soundwave

“If—”--Buddy

“Quit it with the ‘if’s’ and ‘buts’! You are singly one of the best Decepticons we’ve had in forever! But that doesn’t mean your invincible! I know that. Soundwave knows that. Megatron knows that! Rumble knows that and… and that’s why he took that shot. Now do you think my brother would like it if he found out you were out here on your own thinking this was all your fault! No! He’d have my helm if he found that out!”--Frenzy

“Frenzy…”--Buddy

“Frenzy: Correct, minus extra language.”--Soundwave

“Hey!”--Frenzy

“Buddy had not helped Rumble in those moments… He would not have made it back to the base.”--Soundwave

“…”--Buddy

“Buddy saved Rumble like Rumble saved Buddy.”--Soundwave

Buddy nodding slowly.

“Now that we got that through your thick helm, Megatron wants to see you.”--Frenzy

“What?”--Megatron

“Soundwave will notify Buddy of Rumble’s status. Go.”--Soundwave

“…Thank you, all of you…”--Buddy

Buddy came around the corner to find Megatron. He motioned Buddy to come to his habsuite.

They sat on the edge of the berth, Megatron sat next to them.

Buddy half expected a lecture from him about being so reckless today, but to their surprise he placed a servo on Buddy’s shoulder.

“I thought I lost you today.”--Megatron

“Come again?”--Buddy

“I had tackled Prime down, he was about to start blasting when I redirected his blaster… if he hadn’t yelled for your name, I wouldn’t have known that the blast was coming to you.”--Megatron

“What…”--Buddy

“I thought… I thought I had killed my sparkling.”--Megatron

“But now Rumble—”--Buddy

“He will get better. If you’d have taken that blow…”--Megatron

“…”--Buddy

“He was… not the mech I’d think have you wrapped around your digit.”--Megatron

“Megatron—”--Buddy

“Definitely not who I expected to be your future Conjux—”--Megatron

“Megatron!”--Buddy

“The point is I am glad you are still here with me, little one.”--Megatron

“… I’m taller than you…”--Buddy

“Yes, yes you are.”--Megatron

Buddy slipped their helm into their father’s neck cables trying hard not to cry, but he made it harder for them when he started rubbing circles in the back.

Once Rumble was stable, Buddy, Soundwave, and the cassettes ran in to see him.

Buddy let the family have a moment with Rumble first.

“Great to see your up, knuckle head!”--Frenzy

“Quiet down a bit Frenzy, I gotta killer helmache.”--Rumble

“Rumble: Need medics?”--Soundwave

“Nah, I’m fine—What where’s Buddy?”--Rumble

“What?”--Frenzy

“Buddy! Are they okay? The last thing I remembered was—”--Rumble

“Right here.”--Buddy

Rumble looking at Buddy leaning on the doorframe.

Both visibly relaxing.

Buddy moves towards Rumble’s side and slowly grabs his servo.

“You okay?”--Rumble

“Am I, okay? You’re the one who got shot!”--Buddy

“Yeah, not the best. 0 out of 10 stars, do not recommend it.”--Rumble

Buddy laughing wobbly, their hold slightly shaking.

Rumble firmly holds onto Buddy’s servo.

“I thought… I thought—”--Buddy

“Well for the first time in a long time, your wrong. Seriously I after all this time, I’d thought you’d have more faith in me.”--Rumble

“Yeah… never underestimate a minicon, huh?”--Buddy

“Never.”--Rumble

Click!

“Soundwave!”—Buddy and Rumble

“Photos for sparklings.”--Soundwave

“Sparklings?!”--Rumble

Buddy faints on to the floor.

“Buddy!”--Rumble

“Well… on the bright side you have a roommate now.”--Frenzy

“I swear if I wasn’t on this berth, I’d knock out that stinkin’ grin off of your faceplate.”--Rumble

Buddy, once they recovered quickly from the fainting spell, used all their free time to visit Rumble in the med bay telling him stories and the latest gossip. He would need a little more care before he would be allowed out in the field, Buddy was prepared to help him with every step.

A few days later another scrimmage held near the same place as the last time.

Except this time Buddy had somehow managed to get in front of Prime.

Buddy didn’t know what possessed them, but they felt so much anger at that moment.

It was his blaster.

It was his fault.

Optimus’s fault for Rumble getting hurt.

For so many of their family members getting hurt.

It.

Was.

His.

Fault.

Buddy lunged at the Prime with what they would describe as something of raw rage, throwing them both off the cliff they were on.

Buddy remembered hearing so much screaming as they both tumbling down the uneven pathway hitting several trees and rocks denting their armor.

When Buddy stopped rolling, they immediately went to see Prime shaking off the fall. He was still disoriented, now was their chance.

Buddy wasted no time clobbering him, leaving no chance to get up or recuperate.

Buddy now partially sitting on Prime’s chassis grabbed a rock in their servo with full intent of smashing it and their servo into his helm.

It would finally be the end.

But they stopped.

What good would this do?

The bots and cons were going to continue to kill each other for revenge until there was one bot left standing.

But… if peace was made…

No more energon spilled.

No more praying to Primus that they would make it to see the sunrise the next day.

A chance live with loved ones by your side no matter what fraction you came from.

Autobot, Decepticon, Neutrals, everyone would be safe.

Buddy shakingly let go of the rock and got off the Prime’s chassis.

Optimus had looked into Buddy’s optics and sensed the sudden change.

When they had that rock in their servo, they held nothing but an angry fire.

But then the fire slowly started dying down until it was smolders of the once raging inferno.

The pair just sat in silence for a minute.

Buddy was the first to stand up and offered the Prime their servo.

He grabbed it as Buddy helped him up and turned to walk away.

“I’m sick of this war. Someday, I hope we won’t have to be enemies in the future.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Optimus

“Yes?”--Buddy

“… If you ever wish to join the Autobots, I would welcome you with open arms.”--Optimus

“I’m sorry, what?”--Buddy

“The choice is yours to make. Just know that I too am sick of this war. Sick of the fighting…”--Optimus

“Sick of losing bots we love?”--Buddy

“Yes… but if we unite together, I believe we have a chance, a fighting chance for peace.”--Optimus

“I…I’ll consider it Prime. Farewell, Prime.”--Buddy

“As to you Buddy.”--Optimus

Optimus made one last look and started walking back to base as well.

Buddy continued to walk/limp back when they saw something fly overhead.

It was Lazerbeak.

The minicon flew straight down and landed on their shoulder looking concern at Buddy.

No doubt the minicon had alerted the others where they were.

Lazerbeak also gave Buddy a couple of pecks to the helm, Buddy guessed this was part of their punishment for pulling a stunt like that.

Buddy took this time to sit down on a nearby boulder for a bit. Falling down a cliff at full speed could do something like that to a bot.

Megatron was the first one to arrive to see Buddy leaning on the boulder with Lazerbeak on their shoulder.

He came faster than the others and hugged Buddy like it was their last day on earth.

“What in the name of Cybertron were you thinking?! Jumping off the cliff with Prime like that!”--Megatron

“Kind of wasn’t…”--Buddy

“I can believe that! How could you��”--Megatron

“As much as I love hearing your lecturing, I have a split helmache and my frame feels like its on more hug away from falling apart.”--Buddy

“Hmmm… it seems that the fall was enough punishment.”--Megatron

“Yeah…”--Buddy

“After all you have something much worse to face.”--Megatron

“Wait what?”--Buddy

“Buddy!”--Frenzy

“Oh boy…”--Buddy

Soundwave and the other cassettes followed suite with a small search party.

The cassettes let out a small string of empty threats. They were just glad Buddy wasn’t hurt too badly.

Soundwave helped Megatron get Buddy up on their pedes and flew them back to base.

“Well, I think I went through that punishment faster than I thought.”--Buddy

“That wasn’t your punishment.”--Megatron

“What?”--Buddy

“Buddy punishment: Telling Rumble what happened.”--Soundwave

“WHAT!”--Buddy

“Yeah, you’re on your own there.”--Frenzy

“Nope, no, no, no—”--Buddy

“You don’t have a choice.”--Megatron

“Nice knowing ya Buddy. House arrest is imminent.”--Frenzy

“…Primus help me…”--Buddy

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #transformers g1 #g1 megatron #g1 optimus prime #g1 soundwave #g1 x platonic reader #g1 rumble #tf rumble #g1 transformers #tf rumble x reader

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theminecraftbee · 1 year

Text

There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:

He is dreaming.

It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.

He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.

He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.

We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.

We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.

"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.

"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"

"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."

"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.

Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."

"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"

Are you ready to play?

Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."

The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."

(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)

The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.

"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.

Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.

"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.

When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.

Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--

I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.

Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.

Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?

Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.

Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."

"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.

"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.

"What?" Martyn says.

We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?

"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.

Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.

Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.

"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."

"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"

It's your bet.

"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"

You're no fun.

Is that what you really want?

"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."

"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"

"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."

The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.

Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--

"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.

"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."

"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.

"Please," Grian says.

The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.

Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.

He stares at the numbers.

Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."

The dealer nods.

"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.

If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.

Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"

"Why?" Martyn says again.

Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.

"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"

Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.

The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.

The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.

The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.

"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"

"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."

Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.

"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."

Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.

Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.

"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."

Two of spades.

He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.

"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.

The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--

The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.

Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.

Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.

The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--

"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"

THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.

(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)

YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.

There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.

AND THAT IS ME.

Martyn stares Death in the eyes.

Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.

He does not sleep again for a long time.

#trafficblr #martyn inthelittlewood #grian #the watchers #the listeners #a bee fic #this is me getting ALL OF MY MOST PRETENTIOUS URGES OUT before i go write more giftfic #literally all my most favoritest pretentious tropes. death personified. weird audience/writer avatar watchers and listeners. cards.#the series abstracted as a stage show. martyn being tired and confused.#really really ominous portents of the next game that hasn't actually happened yet #this is what self-indulgence looks like. if you're me.#there could not be. a more me fic.#anyway. ANYWAY. martyn doesn't understand why he's here. but why WOULDN'T he be here?#out of everyone in the series he's one of the ones who shapes the narrative the most after all

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