#he was terrified of the color blue for some reason

[evilrat-sabre]

Lets do a Game

I call it “What is VintageBeef Lifting?”

Me first!

A fucking Agroon

This night I had a dream that Beef just casualy lifted a Agroon to save the hermits from the falling moon, so I had to draw it

Now I have this art of Beef lifting air

So if you want to make beef lift a weird thing feel free.

[dcxdpdabbles]

hello hello! After a few posts of this premise I just had to say something and because you just make them come to life I just had to ask :) anyway, Danny let’s say in seriously injured by the giw or even his parents but he is reverting to his core and he goes to Clockwork to help since he’s the one he’s the most closest ghost to and kinda his guardian ghost, Clockwork sees that he himself will not be able to help forever and finds a different solution. He takes Danny’s core and makes a magic safe guard and puts his core inside in the guise of a doll like this one:

But with Danny’s coloration! He sends Danny to Gotham and ends up being picked up by Robin!Jason who thinks he’s cute and gets attached, Danny is weak but trying to gather ectoplasm but sends a sense of gratefulness to Jason who feels it but is a bit confused but happy he saved a doll. He brings it with him everywhere and takes it with him everywhere but when Jason dies and buried Danny is sat at his grave and he wakes up a little earlier with Danny and brings with him. He gets a strange attachment and feeling of safety with the doll and then is able to talk to it and Danny and him become closer and when he eventually reunites with everyone and things smooth over he feels it’s fine to bring Danny the doll to the mansion and the others realize that Jason has a haunted fucking doll and with the already thin trust they can’t do hair when Danny messes with them with moving their stuff, appearing out of nowhere, and being all around creepy but he helps Alfred so Jason has no issues and finds it funny. There are probably times where they try to dispose of it anyways but comes back completely fine and they become even warier but Danny is just having the time of his life while eating his ectoplasm while helping them with cases and finding things and such and Alfred even defends him when they try to talk Jason around about the creepy doll and is like “Did you stay at my grave 24/7 in all weather? That’s what I thought.” When Tim tries to get evidence he takes a picture of the doll all he sees is a boy around the age Jason died with pale soft blue eyes staring back with a soft smile that even if it wasn’t really creepy he still felt a chill down his spine

First of all, the photo almost gave me a heart attack. Haunted dolls terrify me (ironically, I fear ghosts.) But honestly, I love the prompt, so here you go!

Jason moves back into the manor- sort of. He's still in the middle of his hostile takeover of Crime Alley, but things are a little less stressful between the family. Maybe it was because Jason's Pit Madness was slowly disappearing, thanks to his friend Danny.

Danny was a great listener and always willing to help Jason sort through his feelings and thoughts. He was the reason that Jason chose to try to talk things out with Bruce before going through his insane idea of attacking Tim at the Titian Tower.

Which, you know, Tim was grateful he didn't actually go through with it after finding the plans in some of Jason's stuff while helping him move. The fact he wanted to wear his old Robin outfit- which would not fit on his body now- would have been beyond traumatizing enough, thank you very much.

"I know." Jason laughed as the rest of the family crowded around the plans. Even Damian seemed a bit disturbed by what was written. "Danny made me realize I didn't have the skinny legs to pull off the outfit."

Tim has never met Danny, but he has heard about him. Jason spoke about him when he followed Bruce and Jason around with his camera, which was enough for him to know Danny was likely a childhood friend.

Of course, Danny went by the code "Doll" in those days. Personally, Tim had always assumed that Jason and Danny shared a relationship that went beyond friends.

It had been another reason that Jason was his favorite Robin. If Robin could like boys, then Tim could too, and the knowledge that one of his literal heroes was like him helped Tim accept himself faster.

He never brought it up, even as Jason slowly gained control over Crime Alley as a Crime Lord- one that didn't kill because it would make Danny sad, which was another point in his secret boyfriend checkbox list.

Everything was fine- until Bruce found out about Danny.

"Jason, I thought you outgrew Danny," Bruce uttered hesitantly as Jason explained how Danny had fallen over himself when describing his Titain Tower plan.

Jason's eyes flashed green at once, and everyone in the cave grew tense.

"I will never outgrow Danny!" The second oldest barked, his neck muscles straining.

Now Tim knew that Danny was a secret, so he never brought him up despite the burning need to ask every question under the sun about him. Jason wasn't out to the rest of the family- detectives or not- that was up to Jason to decide when they would know.

He just always assumed Bruce knew since, you know, his son called his best friend Doll back when he was fourteen and running around in green spandex.

How could he not know? Did he want Jason to change his cape out for a rainbow and sing musicals at the top of his lungs on Wayne Tower?

Actually.....Jason did sing in musicals at his drama club. Honestly, Bruce was in denial.

Jason may not be out, but Tim wouldn't let Bruce bully him about his lover!

"Jason can have whatever friends he wants! And feel whatever he feels about them!" Tim snares, and that causes Dick, Damian, and Steph to bristle. They stand beside a huffing Jason, slowly coming down from his rage at the sight of support.

Cass and Alfred watch from the Batcomputer, a tension around their eyes the only sign that they, too. Bruce intelligently raises his hands in a placating manner.

"I did not mean anything wrong by that, Jason. I'm just surprised Danny still has such a strong hold on you." Bruce starts, his eyes never leaving his boy's face, even with all his other children flocking around him. "I thought Danny was lost when you died."

There is a long pause where Tim considers the words. It's a fair assumption. After all, Danny thought Jason had died and been buried. Why would he wait around after that?

Even the Bats still didn't know what caused Jason to come back. How would a civilian possibly begin to consider his boyfriend returning from the grave- or Tim assumes to be a civilian since Danny had never joined them on the field? He had to be in the know for Jason to tell him the plans comfortably.

"He waited every day, twenty-four seven at my grave," Jason tells Bruce, puffing up his chest. "He was with me when I was in a coma and when I was practically brain-dead on the streets. Hell, he was even there when the League of Assiasns brainwashed me!"

Damian jerks in surprise. He always gets taken aback by how casually Jason admits being part of the organization of his upbringing, no matter how briefly. Not even Bruce does that. "I....was unaware Daniel had been with you. I never saw him."

"Talia allowed me to have him with me just as long as I kept him tied up in my closet so he wouldn't be spotted."

Everyone but Alfred and Bruce step back, staring in horror at Jason. Tim can figure out by their reactions alone that everyone in the Bats had come to the same conclusion as he did about Danny being Jason's lover then.

After all, it's hard to hide that kind of thing from the family of detectives.

How could I have missed this? Tim thinks in dismay. Quickly, his brain runs through every time Jason has so much as hinted at Danny, trying to spot the signs that apparently his brother was abusive and honestly psychotic towards his boyfriend.

"Jason," Dick began in the same casual tone he usually used on hostile witnesses. "Where is Danny now?"

" Upstairs in my closet. He kept trying to escape, so I had to switch to chains." The responses are as easy as they are casual. Tim's stomach drops.

Quickly, he makes eye contact with Steph, who very quickly lowers her chin at him, and then his eyes flicker to the others. Damian's hands have curled, while Dick moves casually to stand behind Jason, which will make it easier to restrain him.

How long had Danny been up there? How many days and nights did he spend held against his will in the one place that should have been the safest of Gotham?

They all tense their muscles, ready to strike-

"Danny is a doll," Bruce suddenly speaks up, his eyes flickering to all of the gathered children with a wild, alarmed look. Ah, he caught on to the fact they were about to take Jason down. "A doll that Jason found in Crime Alley. Made of porcelain and fabric. Not a person."

The Bats are still eyeing their father with sharp, trained eyes, but Alfred's agreeing nod has them relaxing. Oh, thank the gods!

"Of course, Danny isn't a person," Jason replies mystified. He is unaware of how close he came to being jumped. As it were, the Bats stepped away from him as he looked around, confused. "Why would I have a person chained up in my closet?"

Bruce gets a strange, sad smile on his face. "Yes, Chum, why would you."

Tim isn't following. "If Danny is a toy-"

"A doll." Jason cuts in with a hard edge to his voice.

"Right, sorry, if Danny is a doll, why must you chain him up?"

Jason smiles. "Cause Danny runs the first chance he gets."

What?

"Danny is a haunted doll," Bruce starts, only to have Jason huff.

"No, he isn't! Danny is not haunted; he's just curious." Jason rolls his eyes. "Yeah, he never stays still, and okay, sometimes things disappear around the house, but that doesn't necessarily mean a haunting!"

"Master Jason, might I remind you that while you and Mister Danny were first living here, I caught the vacuum moving by itself?" Alfred calls. "I also remember that Mister Danny's head turned to me and followed my movement as I dusted."

"He just wanted to help you clean," Jason defends in a rather childish manner that Tim never thought he would see from someone his age. Maybe that's why Bruce was worried Danny was still around. "He's not a ghost."

"Chum, I hear laughter from your room even when you are not home." Bruce starts. "The laughing started the day you brought Danny home."

"He can tell great jokes!"

"Wait, tells jokes? Jason, does Danny talk to you? " Steph questioned, looking a tiny bit spooked. Oh yeah, she hates ghosts. Tim forgot her fear of them after living so close to the Gotham cemetery and all the nasty ghost stories surrounding it.

Jason blinks down at her, likely forgetting they were present, before considering the question. He moves his hand in a so-and-son motion. "He tries, but it sounds like fast past whispers. I have to strain to hear him."

"Jason," Dick says with an easy-going smile that belies the worry in his eyes. "That's haunting one-oh-one. You're haunted."

"No, a haunting implies that Danny is dead, which he is not. Danny is just resting until his body can reform. I think he's an alien." Jason taps his chin. "He told me before that his species are the conscious manifestation of ectoplasm but that their souls are within a small core, they can retreat to when badly injured. Danny was really hurt, so he's taking a while to reform."

Bruce's strained smile becomes tighter. "We can have Zatanna or Consitine take a look at him. They might-"

"I'll blow your fucking head off if you try it, old man" Jason's eyes were a bright green, an animistic sneer at his lips, and bloodlust was thick in the air. The abrupt change makes Tim wonder if he has passed out and missed the trigger.

Bruce sighs. "Of course, Jason. Why don't you show everyone, Danny? I think it's time they meet him."

Jason beams, shooting up the stairs to go get his doll. Everyone watches him go, and until they are sure he can not hear them, they burst into conversation.

"Jason is definitely haunted!" Dick despairs, throwing himself dramatically on a nearby chair. "We need to do something! Get it away from him."

"We will do no such thing," Alfred huffs. "Mister Danny is a fine young ghost who helps Master Jason. It would be unwise to separate them."

"As much as I hate to admit it, even Dinah claims that the two are good for each other." Bruce says, likely unhappy that Black Canary used her therapy license against him, "Apparently, Danny is Jason's support doll."

Before anyone can say anything else, Jason races down the stairs with a broad smile. In his hands is a beautiful porcelain doll with black fabric hair, a fine little king suit made from expensive material, and a pretty painted face.

Its green glass eyes- colored to seem almost watery- seemed to stare into everyone's soul as Jason held him up for the room to see. Danny had no facial expression- not even a smile, just a soft, relaxed neural set of features that were popular in the era he was likely made in, but the eyes held emotions.

There was definitely something intelligent and aware in them.

Tim shuddered.

"Oh, Tim, can you take our picture? It's Danny's first time in the cave, and I want to commemorate the date!" Jason suddenly asks, rocking on his heels like he used to do as Robin. Tim wonders if Danny was doing that to him- reverting him to a child-like mind.

If so, was that a good thing? Should he let it keep happening?

"Sure, Jason," He says, instead picking up his camera that he had taken on patrol. He aims his lends, trying to find the perfect lighting as his older brother quickly holds the doll up in his arms, allowing it' head to be at the same level as his face.

Tim snaps the picture, but when he looks at the screen, a shiver runs down his spine, and it takes all his training not to scream.

Jason's smirk is not out of place for his hulky form. He takes up most of the frame, but where Danny the doll is, there is a faint outline of another person. A teenager, maybe a year younger than Jason, with pretty features, a copy of the beauty in Jason's arms, but much more human, yet not human, is smiling at the camera.

He's about a head shorter than Jason, but even with the softness of his smile, Tim has never been more creeped out in his life.

Jason is definitely haunted.

"How did it come out?" Jason asks as Danny's doll head turns to look at Damian. The younger boy imminently moved back, hiding behind Bruce. The doll's eyes followed him, almost amused by the boy's actions.

"G-good." Tim stammers. Steph is already racing for the safety of Bruce's cape, joining Damian. "Danny is beautiful."

Jason pauses, tilting his head as if hearing something, eyes flickering down to his right where the teenager ghost stood for the picture, and then grins.

"Of course he means it." Jason's ears turn pink as he admits, "I also think you're the most gorgeous person I've ever met."

Okay, Jason is definitely being haunted by someone he might have a crush on. That's....something Bruce has to deal with because Tim is the younger brother, not the dad, and thank god for that.

He might be wrong, but he gets the sense that the doll is blushing even though nothing changes.

It's not my circus and will never be my monkies. Tim thinks racing to Bruce's cape is a good idea as well. He is scared to be out here in the open like Dick and Cass.

Those two might be okay with being haunted, but Tim isn't. Just in case, he'll have to steer clear of the manor for a few days.

[meiliarotten]

Lingerie Headcanons (All Mercs!)

🔞Minors DNI🔞

The Masterlist

👟 Scout 👟

Honestly I see scout as the kind of guy that gets worked up if you just happen to wear a bra and panties that match.

He just likes the idea that you put thought into what you were gonna wear for him

If you really wanna play to a fantasy though…

Playboy Bunny suits

It’s stereotypical, but people find those outfits sexy for a reason, so can you really blame him?

Favorite colors- he would claim to like the typical red and black, but I honestly think he has a soft spot for pink.

And he definitely doesn’t know shit about lingerie styles (tbh, neither do I. I’m looking at charts and cosmopolitan articles as I write this) so a simple bra and panty set suits him just fine

🦅 Soldier 🦅

Just dress up as the Statue of Liberty, he’ll be all over you

Ok, I’m kidding. Kinda. On to the serious stuff.

I think less is more with Soldier. I’m thinking vintage pinup aesthetic really gets him going

I know it’s not technically lingerie, but hear me out

Wear a dress or top that shows off your chest or “accidentally” drop something only to bend over in a skirt that’s conveniently just a bit too short

Bonus points if your wearing some actual lingerie beneath that skirt, flashing a bit of lace

Tease him, see if you can crack that strict drill sergeant demeanor her tries so hard to maintain

Once you're in private just know he’s not going to hold back on you.

favorite colors are red white and blue. No, I will not be backing down on this.

🔥 Pyro 🔥

the more colorful, the better with this one!

That goes double for frills.

Honestly the two of you could probably make a whole day out of you trying on different outfits and strutting around like a runway model, much to their delight

Pyro is like your own personal cheerleader

May also enjoy sexy costumes (nurses, French maids, etc), but I don’t see them as being much into roleplay, so those are probably more for fun

The fashion show usually ends when an outfit is just too hot for them to resist 😏

Because Pyro fucks and I will die on that hill

Their favorite colors for lingerie would be shades ranging from fire red to pastel pink

Favorite style is either babydolls or rompers. They just think you look so cute in them!

💥 Demoman 💥

He probably has the most ‘traditional’ lingerie tastes of everyone

Nothing too fancy, just a silk chemise or a pair of lacy black panties will do just fine

He definitely loves being surprised with it now and then. Undressing you to find that you’re wearing something special is always a turn on

Sometimes he’ll even save up to buy you a pair for special occasions like anniversaries.

He always gets super flustered when giving it to you, though. It’s really freaking cute

That said, if you really want to get him going, wear a pair of his boxers

You know those guys who think it’s hot as fuck when their partners wear their boxers or briefs?

Yeah, Demo’s one of those guys, 100%

Plus, you get to wear comfy, loose underwear. It’s a win-win!

🥊 Heavy 🥊

Heavy doesn’t have any need for fancy lingerie

Honestly he’s kinda terrified of tearing it. That stuff is expensive!

That said, he does enjoy the way you look in a teddy.

When he learns the name of the garment he’ll call you his “little bear.” It quickly becomes his favorite pet name for you

Favorite colors- doesn’t really have any. He thinks you look pretty in any hue.

That said, one thing that gets him even more worked up than lingerie?

Is when you wear one of his shirts- obviously way to big for you, fitting you like a nightgown- and nothing else.

🔧 Engineer 🔧

this is gonna be stereotypical as hell

And honestly he’s very aware of how stereotypical it is and he’s a little ashamed of it

But if you wore a sexy cowgirl costume he would be on you in a nanosecond

But let’s run with that- I think Engie likes costumes

This man has a secret knack for roleplay, I’m telling you

Naughty nurses, feathery show girls, a college student with a low cut blouse who would do anything for a passing grade

He does have some more vanilla tastes as well though. For example I think he loves the simplicity of a camisole or nightgown

Favorite colors would include white and baby blue

🏥 Medic 🏥

I will PERISH on this hill- Medic is a thigh man.

He LOVES the way stockings hug your legs. (In fact I’ve written a fic about this exact scenario)

He would also go feral over a sexy nurse outfit. Is it stereotypical? Yes. But it is also very hot. (I have also written a fic about this)

He’s definitely bold enough to just outright ask you to wear something for him, perhaps a blood red bustier and some matching garters (to play into that thigh kink I mentioned)

However he leaves it up to you when you will be wearing said thing, maintaining some element of surprise.

Once he actually sees you in it, perhaps waiting for him in his private quarters after a long day of work, he will take his time to admire you, making you do a little spin for him

He’ll definitely tease you and refuse to undress you until you're begging for his touch on your bare skin.

🦘 Sniper 🦘

Sniper is not a picky man when it comes to sex

That said, lingerie is always a welcome surprise

His only preference comes down to the style of the lingerie- he prefers crotchless designs.

He doesn’t see the point of wearing something sexy if he has to take it off to fuck you

Styles where the bottom of the panties can be easily pulled to the side also work for this

I think he also enjoys silkier textures.

He’ll run his hands over the fabric both during and after sex, almost as a way to soothe himself and come down from the high

Neither of you really know why this calms him down so much

🌹 Spy 🌹

Spy has sugar daddy energy and will probably buy lingerie for you

Expect the fanciest, silkiest garments that money can buy.

Chemise, robes, and negligee (which is basically the “wealthy widow whose husband died under mysterious circumstances” robe, according to the internet)

Most often they would be in traditional black, but I feel like a deep violet or midnight blue could also be appealing to him.

Oh and get ready to be teased to hell and back.

Spy likes to take his time, especially when you’re wearing something nice for him. After all, what’s the point if he just strips it off of you immediately? (plus this stuff is expensive so he’s gotta get his money’s worth out of this.)

He loves teasing you

[zirobitches]

One Piece Domestic Fluff

I'll crawl home to her - Sir Crocodile x GN!Reader

Note: Not related to soulmate AU i just love croc

Summary: Devil fruit users are weakened by seawater, and I'm convinced some of them really hate all water as a result. Anyways reader comes back from a trip to find their partner Croc greasy af.

Tags: domestic fluff, takes place during cross guild era, slight angst? just taking care of ur mans, just domestic things. also implied/mentioned nudity bc yall take a bath together, also Buggy mention (i kind of insult him but i swear i love him i just dont find clowns hot)

Words: 3100+

AN: I'm usually an angst/slow-burn writer but I needed some fluff. this has not been beta-ed and i'm posting as soon as i get done writing. it is currently 2am. lmk if there's big errors. thanks ily bye

There was a knock at your cabin door.

“Come in,” you call across the room. The door swings open and one of the crew of your ship peeks his head in.

“The island is finally in sight, we should be arriving by 5.” He reports.

“Thank you, go ahead and make sure the rest of the crew makes preparations.” He nods in reply and the door shuts behind him. You sigh, and lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling.

It had been almost three months since you had last seen Crocodile. You two have had longer separations, courtesy of Strawhat and the Marines, but that did not make it easier. You weren’t supposed to go this long originally, but certain encounters with some old Whitebeard crew on your end had incurred some delays. That was then followed by the official disbandment of the Seven Warlords, and Crocodile had to extend your reunion date to take advantage of the situation.

Now that the Cross Guild has been established, and no one was chasing you or Crocodile, you could finally find each other again.

Stepping onto land had never felt so good. Everyone that you passed or tried to speak to you was blurred due to your tunnel vision. You scanned the small crowd that had come to the dock to greet you, looking for the familiar tall figure.

Instead, you are stopped by a clown.

“Y/N, right?” You froze at the brightly colored monstrosity in front of you. He seemed familiar for some reason.

“Sir Croc sent me to get you, he and Mihawk had some business to wrap up before you arrived.” The clown continued to talk to you, but you were distracted by his large red nose. You recognized him from the posters - he was Buggy the Clown, the pirate who originally began Buggy’s Delivery Service, now known as Cross Guild. But you were just wondering why the red nose looked so realistic. Surely it’s not real?

“Y/N? I’ll show you to his room, it’s where he told me to bring you.” The nose was real, but you now had more important things to think about.

“His room should be fine, thank you.” You finally replied, making eye contact. Just to be met with freaky pale blue eyes. This man did not win the genetics lottery.

Buggy continued to ramble as he showed you around. Your mind however was not retaining any of it. After three months of not seeing Crocodile, the person you held most dear in the world, you were itching to see him again, and being closer to your goal did not put you at ease. Instead, you were even more anxious. Even this slight delay due to Mihawk had you peeved.

Finally, you arrived at a large gilded door. It was very Crocodile - a  golden gilded frame for a large black door, granted all doors had to be large to allow someone like Croc through. You reached for the matching golden handle on the door and walked into his - no, your room.

Buggy wished you well and ran off before you could say goodbye. You didn’t listen to him much, but it was easy to tell that he was terrified of Crocodile.

You chuckled and closed the door behind you. A quick sweep of the room told you you had beaten Crocodile to the room. You sighed and tossed a backpack you had brought on a nearby couch.

The room was massive - it was easily the size of a small apartment. The first half of the room was a lounge; a large fireplace to your right with the couch and coffee table in front of it, and a Crocodile-sized armchair in the corner. To your left was a desk, already drowned in papers - why being a pirate created so much paperwork, you would never know. The second half was the bedroom. At the center of the back wall was a massive 4 post-bed - absurdly large, even for Crocodile. Both of you could lay in bed at the same time and never accidentally touch. But the fancy, if not gaudy decor that covered the entire room was not surprising to you.

Sir Crocodile had always been partial to the baroque style.

You made your way to the bed and climbed onto it. You may have to ask for some steps to be installed if you are supposed to sleep here every night. You sunk into the bed and let out a long sigh. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be much longer till he arrived.

Then, as if summoned by your thoughts, the door opened again and Crocodile stepped in. You immediately sat up on the bed and looked at him.

The purple vest wasn’t your favorite look on Crocodile, but right now just having him in sight brought a grin to your face.

As soon as he saw you he vanished into sand and then reappeared on the bed in front of you. You inadvertently sucked in a breath - you were used to seeing him use his devil fruit powers, but having him so near - his face now less than a foot away from yours - well, you weren’t prepared for it.

“Hello my love,” Croc’s voice swept over you, the deep rasp of it driving straight into your chest.

Before you could get a reply out he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. You melted into him, all the tension of your separation vanishing with his presence. He was kneeling in front of you on the bed, and his hand came up to the back of your head to gently press you against his lips, his weight now resting on his hook to your right.

You pressed forward, your hands finding support on his chest - warm and solid, he was finally there with you - and hand one traveled up to cup his face. He hummed against you, then finally pulled back. The kiss could not have been that long but you were still at a loss for breath, but smiled at him.

A soft smile appeared across his face as well, his massive hands still cupping your face.

“Gods I missed you,” You finally responded and he chuckled. As you two just looked at each other you noticed a strand of hair fall in front of his face, his normally slicked-back style beginning to fall apart.

You moved your hand from his jaw and began to sweep the hair back into place, but then paused your hand atop his head. Your fingers briefly carded through his hair, and then you grabbed a portion between your fingers.

“Croc, darling, when was the last time you washed your hair?” Now that you looked at him, Crocodile did not look. Well. His deep-set eyes now seemed darker due to the bags underneath, his face paler than you were familiar with, and his hair….

At first glance, you thought it was a healthy shine that covered it, but now realize it was oil. His hair had clearly not been washed in days, maybe even weeks from the look of it, and stayed slicked back on his head from the build-up. The last time you had seen him in a similar state was shortly after he escaped from Impel Down.

Crocodile heaved a sigh, his eyes closing and shoulders slumped. He mumbled something towards the bed, but with his deep voice and his face not facing yours, you didn’t quite catch it.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” You tried to use a gentle tone with him - you were now concerned for him, confused as to how he got in this state.

“I haven’t been comfortable enough to bathe, not since the Warlords were dissolved,” Crocodile spoke up, but still not making eye contact.

You felt yourself slightly lean back in surprise. It made sense you suppose - not only were devil fruit users slightly weakened by any body of water, sea water or not, but Crocodile’s powers were rendered completely useless when he got wet. If he had been chased by Marines for the past few weeks and then untrusting of his new business partners, he was going to avoid putting himself at risk of being vulnerable.

You briefly considered having Daz acting as guard at the door when Croc was bathing, but not only would that indicate he was at his weakest, but it was sure to somehow make him embarrassed. For a man with such a large ego, he really could not handle any bruises to his pride.

Instead of prying into his discomfort, you brought your hand under his chin and lifted his face to look at him.

“I need to bathe as well after all the bullshit that’s happened. Would you care to accompany me?” Your offer of an act of intimacy like this was sure to distract from whatever negative feelings he may have.

Sure enough, a smirk spread across his face, his eyes already seeming to undress you before you two had even made a move towards the bathroom.

You move your hand from his chin to his face, covering his eyes. “Cut that out, I’m too tired for anything like that.” It was true; whatever adrenaline had kept you going during your time apart was now gone, swept away and replaced by exhaustion. You wanted nothing more than to get clean and crawl into bed with this man and sleep for the next 16 hours.

Crocodile merely laughed at your indignation and brought his arms underneath your hips. He easily lifted you into his grasp and carried you off the bed and into the bathroom.

You had noticed the door to the left when you walked in but hadn’t made it that far. While it may have been fair to assume it was large, you were still taken aback by the size.

It was practically a small spa. The shower could easily have both of you in there and even more, people if the occasion required it. But what stole the show was the bath.

It was less like a bath and more like a large hot tub. Or a private hot spring. It was already filled with water and steam rolled off the top.

“I had someone prepare the bath for us.” You looked up at Crocodile, finally dragging your eyes away from the bathroom. “I figured you wouldn’t be pleased by the state I was in and I thought you would enjoy relaxing in a bath.” He was looking down at you, his signature shit-eating smirk sitting on his face.

You just sighed in response and leaned into his embrace, resting your head below his chin.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You closed your eyes as you felt him press a soft kiss on your head.

He eventually let you go and you both undressed, piling all your clothes together. You stepped into the water first, standing on a wide step as you looked at Croc. Several steps went down into the bath, which was really just a small hot pool you decided. It allowed you and Crocodile to be submerged at your preferred depth in the water, a convenience you were grateful for.

Crocodile was a vision. Still as well built as the first time you meant, now slightly softened by age and covered with more scars. You tried your best to keep your eyesight above the waist but couldn’t help some appreciative glances at what was below.

Crocodile also stared back at you, his eyes devouring the sight of you naked in the bath before him. Any apprehension he may have had vanished when you reached out to him, beckoning him to the water. He walked down the steps and went past you, deeper into the water, till he was only a foot taller than you rather than his usual height difference.

You now felt too drained for words, the warm water relaxing you into a state of drowsiness. You gestured towards Crocodile to sit down on one of the higher steps. He gave you a questioning look but listened to your commands. He was used to the occasions you decided to go nonverbal.

After he sat down in the water you noticed it - there was a detachable shower head that was attached to the edge so you could wash your hair in the pool. That would make this process much easier.

Grabbing the shower head you found the knob at the base and turned on the water. The sound of running water made Crocodile turn his head and look at what you were up to. You just smiled back at him and gestured for him to lean his head back so you could rinse. He dutifully closed his eyes and leaned back as you rinsed the water through his hair.

After you had prepared his head you then went back to the edge of the pool and looked at some soaps that had been provided. They were thankfully labeled in little dishes - a bar of shampoo, a bar of conditioner, and body wash. You grabbed the bar of shampoo and thoroughly lathered it in your hands.

You then walked back to the large man who sat there and began to work the shampoo into his hair. As your nails gently dragged against his scalp, Crocodile leaned back towards your touch, a deep sigh escaping him as he fully relaxed into you.

Your heart ached at his softness. When was the last time he let himself relax? The last time you were together? If so, you couldn’t imagine how amazing it may feel for him to finally be at ease after months of staying on guard.

Before you let yourself get emotional by this, you focus back on the task at hand. You were now determined to get this man as relaxed as possible. You had loved Crocodile for a long time and took pleasure in doing mundane daily things such as this with him. The fact that he seemed to not only enjoy it but often only did these mundane tasks with you, made them into something special.

Lather, rinse. Lather, rinse. Condition and while you let it sit in his hair you began to wash your own.

Eventually, you both emerged from the now almost cool pool, completely clean and perfectly exhausted.

Robes had been prepared along with everything else, and after you dried off you slipped yours on. It was normal person-sized, definitely not something you could mistake for Croc’s robe that was so long it would have engulfed you.

Before you could begin to walk, Crocodile leaned down and picked you up again in a bridal carry.

You made a small noise in surprise but then leaned into his chest, the robe soft and warm against your cheek.

Crocodile carried you back into the bedroom and carefully placed you into the bed. You pulled back the blankets and arranged the pillows as your partner went around and sat on the edge of the bed and lit his final cigar of the day. As he puffed the cigar he went about dismantling his hook.

Crocodile was quite adept with his chosen prosthetic, you never feared he would accidentally hurt you with it, but at night was a different story. It had taken a while to convince him you would both be better off if he didn’t wear it at night and he had relented. Now it was a nightly ritual for him to take it off before going to sleep.

You leaned back into the bed and turned to face Crocodile. Your partner was occupied reading some documents he must have grabbed from his desk at some point - being able to turn into sand had its perks - but turned to meet your gaze.

The cigar was quickly put out and discarded to the nightstand on his side of the bed. He then leaned and turned off the last lamp and the entire room went dark. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the moonlight coming from the windows of the room and you could just barely make out Crocodile.

He finally leaned back into the bed and then you felt more than saw as he reached out and pulled you to him, the large bed not large enough to keep you away from your love.

Crocodile was always so warm. For someone with his namesake, you had assumed that he would be cold-blooded, but for you, he burned. His hand, wide and warm and no longer covered in rings, made its way to your face.

Leaning across the pillows, Crocodile kissed you again. Your hands reached out to pull him closer, and soon both of you had your arms and legs wrapped tight around each other. Part of you wished neither of you would ever have to let go, that maybe you could just drown in him, be buried alive in the sand and smoke.

You separated the kiss to breathe again and tucked your head into the curve of his neck.

“I can’t do that again. Being away from you for so long was horrible.” You finally spoke up, your voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

Crocodile’s grip around you only tightened, his face leaning down to bury it in your hair. He took a deep breath and exhaled before responding.

“I have forgotten what it was like to live before knowing you.” His voice shook through you, the vibrations of it coming from his chest. “I’ve found out I am no longer capable of finding joy without you.”

You felt like you might cry - from happiness or sadness, you were unsure. Instead, you blinked back the tears and backed from his chest to look at him again.

Crocodile had never looked so tired before. He looked at you with such longing, maybe even grief in his gaze, that you knew without a doubt that he spoke the truth. He didn’t look like he would cry, and you have never seen him shed a single tear. But this was probably the closest you have gotten to him doing so.

“So I guess we'll just have to stay together from now on, hm?” You murmured to him, your hands coming up to brush some stray hairs from his face.

Crocodile just smiled at you and agreed. “I do hope you realize I wouldn’t let you leave me even if you wanted to.” He spoke so softly that it sounded sweet rather than obsessive. But you were so obsessed with him in return you didn’t even care.

“Sounds perfect to me.” You whispered as you leaned in to kiss him again.

Eventually, the two of you began to drift off, finally safe and sound in each other. As you fell asleep that night, surrounded by Crocodile’s warm embrace, you had never felt so loved.

[count-alucard-tepes]

What sexy things do the OP Hotties do that turn you on? 👀

Haha I normally wouldn’t do slightly spicy asks but I’ll respond to this one because I can’t resist😆😍

Kizaru ✨: he such a tease, you know he’s so smooth with the ladies and he dresses really well too. A well put together man is always desirable.

Akainu🌋: he’s stoic and cold and I’m a brat 😂 I feel like that would be the perfect match for someone like him. Also he has tattoos and he seems like he would protect me with his life and that’s so sexy.

Ryokugyu 🌱: he’s a bad boy and everyone loves a bad boy. And when ever I get mad at him he would just turn into a tree with my favorite flowers…a girl is sold.

Fujitora 🐅: he’s such a sweetheart, you know he would be the best husband ever.

Sir Crocodile 🐊: it’s his style, he just oozes sexiness in everything he does and says. He knows he can have anyone and that confidence is really sexy.

Doflamingo Donquixote 🦩: the ultimate bad boy who would have you wrapped around his finger literally and figuratively. It’s the sexy body, the laugh, the style! Not to mention, he’s someone you don’t want to cross the line with him. He’s the guy your parents say stay away from with good reason but you still want a taste.

Benn Beckman 🔫: he’s so mysterious and you know he’ll charm your pants off in 30 seconds. He’s also strong and smart…it’s a win-win situation!

Katakuri Charlotte 🍡: Oda thought everyone was gonna be terrified of this hottie! But no, this mochi baby daddy is the perfect example of don’t judge a book by its cover! He’s a family guy who listens to his mom and cares for his younger siblings! And not to mention he’s got a sexy body and can tell why you’re angry before you stomp around ! And he loves donuts so I never have to diet again! I AM SOLD!

Killer🔪: alright post time skip Killer is hot and all but pre time skip Killer had me on my knees! He’s is so cute and mysterious but also super intelligent and fine af! Blonde hair and blue eyes…that’s my punk rock Barbie right there!

Kaido🐉: he’s emotional af when he’s drunk and just loves the hell out of his kid and those around him that are loyal to him! To be Yamato’s mom and smash Kaido at him prime! Omg I’d cling to ankles, y’all !

King 👑 : he’s the hot character of color who is the epitome of tall, dark and sexy! He has the white hair! He’s that bitch! He’s got wings and legs for days! The fucking face tattoo!!! I would cling onto his knees (since that’s probably the highest point where I’d be able reach him) and die for this baby daddy!

Queen👑: oh man, Queen is so fucking cool! I just wanna party with him until I can’t walk anymore! You know he puts the party God to shame! Karaoke night at Onigashima would be everything!

Izou🔫🔫: he’s so beautiful…I would be so shy around him because he’s so freaken pretty and would always look hotter than me! It’s always nice to have someone else do your hair and make up and Izou is my main man to be my wifey!

Dragon D Monkey 🐉🐒: the face tattoo! You know he’s a badass when he got a face tattoo and his best friend is an Okama! I’m ready to see Dragon naked, y’all! I’m about to be Luffy’s stepmom! Croc is about to gut me😂😂😂

Oven Charlotte 🍞: feeling sad…he bakes some cake…feeling happy…let’s have croissants! He’s just gonna fatten me up and I’ll never have to diet again because I’ll always be smaller than him! These Charlotte men are just the best! He’s also got main character energy 😂

Buggy🤡: he has hair goals I want to achieve but will never reach even if I tried! He’s charismatic and funny af! Buggy-sama is everything!😍

Marco the Phoenix 🦅: he’s a doctor! Score! My parents would never be prouder since I’m not…next best thing is my hubby being a doctor! He’s also such a cutie who seems to always be smiling!

Eustass Kidd🤘🎸: our favorite angry firecracker! He’s a cutie who wears make up and looks like he should be a drummer in a rock band! He’s got beautiful red hair and he’s intelligent! He also can fix your appliances! That’s a wifey right there!

Rosinantè Donquixote aka Cora-San💕: he’s gentle and emotionally available! Not to mention he’s a natural dad! He’s funny and clumsy af but a total badass! Let’s not forget he’s the handsome sibling lol

Who’s Who ❤️‍🔥👹: omg he’s tall, has pink hair, has tattoos and has a sexy smirk! Not to forget he turns into a cute kitty man! I’m ready to have his kittens!

Gecko Moria🦇: now prime Gecko Moria was every fucking thing! I mean who challenges Kaido and doesn’t actually lose…kinda! He was really hot too!

Iceburg💜: he’s so cute and funny, I can’t with him! He’s also so intelligent and can build stuff, love it!

Gild Tesoro⚜️🏅: first of all, he’s rich and he’s hot! A girl is sold! He sings and dances…even better!

Rob Lucci🐆: he’s so cute! I can’t deal especially in his kitty form, he’s also mysterious. From hot to cold in a mere couple of seconds! I love it! His hair is so beautiful too! I can’t deal!

[itjazzbicch]

What Friends Are For

Pairing:  Johnny Cage x Reader x Kenshi Takashi

Summary: After saving their best friends' lives in Outworld, the reader, Johnny, and Kenshi, continue with their lives, but Johnny and Kenshi don't forget how the reader saved them and decide to repay them and help them with an important goal in their life...

Quick Note: This was a request from my Wattpad! Johnny is the color yellow in dialogue, and Kenshi is blue!

Warnings:  Flashback (it is italicized), The Reader is mentioned to come from a family of warriors, spoilers for Kenshi's MK1 Tower Ending.

Word Count: .8k 

"So, you guys finally going to tell me what the big deal is?"

Johnny, Kenshi, and I became great friends after being chosen as Lord Lui Kang's champions. Although our tasks as champions were no longer our top priority, we were still friends and helped each other in life.

Kenshi went on to work for the new international agency, the OIA. Johnny was doing great things in Hollywood, but I still had a goal to fulfill.

"We have a surprise for you," Kenshi hinted, able to hear the excitement in his voice as they led me into his office. Johnny added as he flashed a smile:

"And you will love it!"

"Just tell me already!" I groaned, pouting at them, "I'm too impatient for surprises."

"Well, let's just say-" Kenshi began, Johnny ending for him:

"We're finally repaying you for saving our lives."

----------------

"Y/N, just run-"

Kenshi got his eyes gouged out, Johnny was wounded, and we were trapped in Shang Tsung's repulsive laboratory, terrifying tarkatan clones trying to attack us.

"We'll just drag you down," Kenshi pleaded in defeat, "Save yourself."

"Not a chance in hell!" Smashing down those clones with my magic, I finally got all of them, needing all my strength to keep Kenshi around me, Johnny in my free arm as he couldn't walk, determination beaming from my heaves, "There's no way I'm leaving you, guys! We'll make it out of this, I swear! Just hang on for me."

It was hard to escape as they needed my strength and guidance, but I was bound to prevail. Enemies kept coming for us, and my determination only grew stronger, facing not only Quan Chi in the living forest soon after but his abomination in Ermac, keeping my promise to Kenshi and Johnny as I stood firm and tall before them, squaring off with Ermac:

"You'll have to kill me if you think you'll lay so much as a finger on my friends!"

Ermac was strong and he was able to knock me down a couple times, but I kept getting right back up.

“Y/N, please, save yourself!”

I was struggling to get up, half my face in the dirt but seeing that monster going after Kenshi and Johnny, he must’ve thought he finished me off.

Something completely took over my body. I couldn’t feel a thing, my vision like pictures, seeing my fist charged with magic, punching Ermac into the ground with it crumbling beneath him, roaring:

“I TOLD YOU! YOU WON’T LAY A FINGER ON THEM!”

--------------

"Guys-" I sighed, shaking my head at them, "You don't need to repay me for that. You're my best friends, and that's what friends do. So-"

"Ah, ah! Zip it!" Johnny shushed me, placing a finger over my lips; Kenshi was joking but serious as he shut the door:

"Too bad. We're repaying you."

"With that?" I wondered, knowing they wouldn't give this up, swatting Johnny's hand away and observing as he went over to a safe with Kenshi.

I tried to peak over them to see but didn't have a single clue as to what they were planning to surprise me with. Clueless, my eyes fixed on Johnny's hands, something hidden in his palms.

"You were right about friends helping each other," Johnny began to smile at me. This must have been something important, but nothing was popping into my mind for some reason.

"Instead of us 'repaying you,' consider this to be us helping you out," Kenshi smiled, looking as Johnny opened his hands, and what I saw nearly made me faint.

My ancestors were warriors, and for centuries, there was a stone they passed down from generation to generation. It held imaginable power, and with that power came wick beings who wanted it for their evil ambitions.

I searched far and wide for it and failed to find it. It wasn't its power that I wanted, but to bring it home where it belonged, with me and my people.

"W-Where-" I swallowed, shaking from the shock, hesitant to touch it, "Where did you find this?"

"Shang Tsung came after me because of Sento," Kenshi explained, "We're dealing with him, but during an ambush, I found that in one of his secret laboratories."

"We know how much this means to you, so," Johnny held it out with a smile, urging me to take it, "It's all yours now."

"This can't be real," I whispered, pupils expanding as I took it delicately. It was beautiful, sparkling colors of the rainbow as it shone in the light, this weird feeling soaking and washing over me. My life felt complete with this stone in my hands, happiness overtaking me so strongly that I began to cry, repeating, "This can't be real."

"It's real," Kenshi patted my back softly, relating to me, "I know how it feels. When I finally got my hands on Sento, the feeling was indescribable."

"You're welcome," Johnny mumbled jokingly, making me giggle and smile more at the stone, clenching it tightly in my fist as I jumped to pull them both into a tight hug, crying happily:

"Thank you so much. You two are the best, I swear."

"It's what friends do, remember?" Kenshi reminded me, hugging me back, as did Johnny, who squeezed me:

"You saved our lives; it's the least we can do."

I couldn't ask for greater friends; they changed my life for the better and continue to do so; my heart was overwhelmed with joy, needing them to know that I meant wholeheartedly, "You guys are the best thing that's ever happened to me." 

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: swearing, brief mentions of terror, domestic!Simon, intimacy in the shower, hand job, vaginal fingering, brief oral sex (female receiving), non-penetrative sex, the mask comes off

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Part Fourteen of Ink & Needle

Simon doesn't see you again for two weeks. Amelia intervenes. Simon removes his mask in front of you.

Chapter Thirteen // Chapter Fifteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Repetition.

Fingers counting bottles. Counting colors. Counting labels.

White paper. Blank spaces. Pencil. Graphite tip.

Breaking. Breaking. Over. Over. Over, again.

Blue ink. Red ink. Black.

Simon counts the little rows, falling deeper into distraction. It’s a way to quiet his mind, to turn off the fucking noise that’s buzzing there in the back like an annoyingly curious bee. But all this inventory counting isn’t working. Nothing is keeping his thoughts at bay.

A week has passed. An entire fucking week and your absence is a festering wound. Simon isn’t taking it personally. Really. He isn’t. But fuck he misses you. Part of him blames himself, insisting that your distance has to do with something he did. It’s not entirely far from the truth. While Simon hasn’t exactly lied to you, he has omitted crucial information.

British Intelligence may very well be coming to call, but Simon doesn’t know that information explicitly. The situation is precarious. Delicate. The information Simon shifted through with Price, Kyle, and Johnny unnerved him.

Kit Walsh is not your local nationalist prick who spouts shit off in chatrooms or on social media for influencers to stitch. Kit Walsh moved beyond that. Beyond walking in to corner stores or a school or a church for innocent people to understand his lead-drenched wrath. Beyond a week or two of media frenzy. Beyond mugshots and a jury sentence.

This man moves between. One minute he’s supplying arms to opposing sides in another country to destabilize a region, and then turns around to whisper in some politician’s ear to convince them to “intercede” on the behalf of “global peace.”

He pushes weapons, pushes people, pushes drugs.

But he’s not a businessman. That’s just a front for his true intentions. Kit Walsh thinks on global levels and how he intends to make the world into his image. He takes his time. He observes and then moves.

It makes the man more dangerous because he also understands that acts at the local level are just as or even more powerful than the global ones. Nothing is more terrifying than when your own neighbor turns their words of hate into hateful actions.

Kit Walsh knows this.

Which is why Simon didn’t give a fuck when he received all those injuries. He thought he took the fucker out for good. That Walsh was a burnt-up corpse. Simon rarely considers any of his scars to be marks of pride. Yet the ones he received when he shoved his knife into Walsh’s chest were ones he didn’t mind having.

But none of that matters now.

Walsh is alive. And he might have fucking blown the back of Lord Archibald Williams’ head off. For what? Simon doesn’t fucking know. Price didn’t know either which means that British Intelligence likely doesn’t.

And you don’t need to know any of that. Why burden you? Why put any of these worries and issues on your plate when they might not land there at all? Why exhaust you further?

When you brought up Archie, Simon panicked, knowing you were already tired—already stressed. It’s not right that this happened to your friend, but Simon truly believes there isn’t anything to particularly worry about at the moment. That is reason enough not to dump this on you.

Simon’s fingers hover above the lid of an ink bottle. He pauses there, thinking, forgetting the number he just uttered.

Lost count. Starts over.

Blue ink. Red ink. Black.

“Fuck!” shouts Simon, his tatted knuckles turning white as the pencil clenched in his fist snaps in half.

Simon stares at the broken pencil. At the fractured graphite.

Sighing heavily, Simon drops the clipboard and steps away from the storage cabinets. He’s fucking distracted, and it’s not only because of the shit he read in Price’s file. Simon hasn’t seen you—hasn’t touched you in almost a week. Somehow, the separation is difficult, more frustrating than Simon previously thought.

He went three years without knowing your touch. But a week is now too much?

Simon clenches his fists. Releases them. Inhales deeply through his nostrils and exhales slowly through his mouth. He repeats until there isn’t any tension in his limbs and his mind quiets. Using the silence, Simon takes notes of the aches and pains. The leg that always gives him trouble isn’t hurting much today, but that might be a different story tomorrow. Everything else is dull and fine, better than it has been.

Checking his scheduling book, Simon pulls up the name of the next client, retrieving the sketches and preparing the stencil. This is work he knows. This is work that’s natural to him. Safe and secure. When the client arrives, Simon shifts into work mode, slipping into his professional mask, dipping into his creativity.

For these few hours, Simon doesn’t think about you at all and he certainly doesn’t think about Walsh. He’s only thinking about the tattoo and the client and the goddamn inventory sheet that looks ready to slip right off the desk.

But when Simon’s client leaves, and he is left in an empty shop with a snoozing Bravo, thoughts of you come roaring back to the forefront of his mind. There really is no reason to worry. It’s not like Simon is only receiving radio silence from you. You just haven’t been with him. That’s all.

The two of you have talked. Well—not extensively. It’s only been flashes of conversation, brief texts and even shorter phone calls. It is the tiredness and exhaustion that Simon hears in your voice every time he speaks with you that worries him. He knows why you’re staying away, and it’s not because of him. At least, that is what you tell him.

Yet Simon cannot help but linger in those spaces, questioning whether or not he somehow messed up. That he didn’t do enough. Worse, it’s not fair to you to think this way. You have been clear about why you’re not around, but it still chews at him. Simon stills wants to see you, to hold you close even if it’s for a fleeting moment.

He knows there is a baby. He knows you have responsibilities to your friend. He knows and yet Simon is fucking selfish because he wants—no. Needs to breathe you in even if it is just the sweet scent of your skin.

But evening comes as Simon closes up shop for the night, and there is not a text or call from you.

There are none the next day or the day after that.

By Sunday morning, Simon is boiling from the inside out, gripping his phone like a goddamn lunatic.

He hasn’t heard from you, and the few calls and texts he’s sent have gone unanswered. If he were his old self, he’d have already gone to your place demanding to see you. But things have changed for him in some respects. Simon is trying hard not to fall into old habits and behaviors when it comes to you.

Simon has failed on several occasions, but he’s trying to be better. He’s trying to be better for you.

The decision he makes is like pulled teeth. Necessary sometimes but fucking painful without the proper numbing. Simon does not go to your place. Every step he takes in the opposite direction of Amelia’s home are dull razors against the skin. He forces himself to leash Bravo, to go to Dancing Faun, to sit down on his usual fucking stool and pretend that everything is fine.

Routine is good. Routine is comfortable.

Simon is going to leave it—leave you—and give you some needed space. There is a newborn in Amelia’s house, and the last thing Simon needs to do is to barge in and step all over that dynamic just because he hasn’t seen you in a few days.

“Look who it is,” chuckles Ben, the owner of Dancing Faun. He sets down a newly polished pint glass. “Thought you forgot about me.”

Simon grins behind the balaclava, the familiar face a much-needed welcome. “You’re forgettable. But your wife?” Simon whistles and settles on his usual stool.

Ben guffaws and wags a finger in Simon’s direction. “Don’t let her hear you say that. She’d leave me in an instant if you asked.”

“Better ask her then,” replies Simon, pretending to get up.

“Oi. Sit down,” mumbles Ben, shaking his polishing rag in Simon’s direction. “Cheeky bastard.”

Ben leaves and returns with Simon’s usual full English and tea. The two of them chat, Ben forgetting not to talk politics on Sunday while Simon listens and shakes his head, knowing the big guy does it on purpose to mess with him. After breakfast, Simon starts with a pint of dark amber ale, moving on to a second as the first customers begin to trickle in.

For a few hours, Simon forgets about the outside world. He watches a rugby match. Drinks a third beer. Considers whether he should switch over to whiskey. It’s just like all his other Sundays since retirement.

Routine is good. Routine is comfortable.

Simon lifts the pint glass to his mouth, downing the last of his third drink. He sets it down on the bar top, unsuspecting of the coming intrusion.

Reality is such a fickle thing. Sometimes it is a clawing, creeping blob that lurks in the corner of a dark room. Sometimes, it is an abrupt shaking, as if hands are on you, imploring you to look.

“Amelia!”

Simon’s stomach flips at the sound of Ben’s voice calling out to the older woman. Glancing away from the television, Simon turns, seeking you. Hope expands in his chest like an inflating balloon. Sparks pop off in his head with the belief that you will enter in behind Amelia. That you will walk through the door and Simon can finally see you again.

But you’re not here.

You’re not with her.

It’s just Amelia.

Her cheeks are rosy from the November cold, and her coat swallows her up.

“I have photos of the grandbaby,” she says, voice cheery as she removes her leather gloves and stuffs them in her coat pockets.

Ben’s smile widens. “Congratulations.”

Several patrons around the pub hold up their drinks in salute, echoing Ben’s initial statement. Without taking off her coat, Amelia travels from person to person, her wire rimmed glasses hanging on the tip of her nose as she scrolls through photos on her phone. She lingers with each person, telling the same story, showing the same pictures.

Simon patiently waits because that’s all he can do. Inside, he’s boiling in an agonizing twisting of alertness that pulls every muscle in his body taut with tension.

Is she doing this on purpose to mess with him? Did he really fuck up and this is her version of punishment?

When Amelia finally approaches Simon, some of that tension evaporates. Her smile is genuine. Soothing. She’s not upset with him. If anything, Amelia is relieved to see him.

“Morning, Simon,” she sighs, her shoulders sagging slightly.

“Morning,” he replies, not recognizing the gruffness in his voice. Simon swallows, tapping the side of his empty glass with a single finger.

Amelia holds up her phone. “Interested in seeing pictures of my grandbaby?”

Fucking hell, he can’t say no to her.

Simon only nods because he cannot trust his voice. Is he fracturing? What the bloody hell is wrong with him? Is it this distance? Does Simon truly miss you so much that it’s causing him to slip?

Amelia settles herself on the stool next to Simon. Bravo’s head doesn’t even lift in greeting. The German Shepard is out, completely relaxed and dozing on the floor. With phone clutched in one hand, Amelia begins to scroll through multiple pictures. Most of them are just of the baby asleep or cradled in someone’s arms.

“Her name is Lillian,” says Amelia, smiling fondly. “Named after Archie’s younger sister. Poor thing didn’t even get to see the age of three.”

The mention of Archie’s name twists Simon’s stomach. The file, its contents, and the conversation he had with Price, Johnny, and Kyle comes creeping back, wanting to sink its claws in.

“This,” and Amelia brings her phone a bit closer. “Is the day we brought her back.” Amelia hums softly. “So rosy cheeked.”

Simon grunts in agreement. It’s not the kindest response but it’s not because he doesn’t agree. Lillian is cute. She is rosy cheeked. Simon is good with kids and he likes them. But he just wants to know what is happening with you.

Amelia slides her finger across the phone’s screen only to reveal a glimpse of a possible answer to all of his questions.

This picture is one of you. In your arms, you are holding Lillian. This wasn’t taken at the hospital. This is at Amelia’s home on the sofa. Simon recognizes the fucking fabric. You’re smiling down at the girl as if she’s the most perfect thing you’ve ever seen.

At first, Simon’s mind is steady. Resolute.

But then, it drifts. Keeps floating. Floating further away until Simon is imagining that you are not holding Amelia’s grandchild at all. You are holding your child. The one you might have with him.

The thought—this image of you—is sudden and fierce. Simon cannot shake it. His mind fixates on this future as if it’s a completely plausible thing. It sticks to him like honey. Like tar. No fingers can dig in and scrape it away. No cleaning solution could scrub it off. There is no box or hole or wasteland that Simon can hurdle this idea into in the hope that he might forget it.

It has bloomed. Flowered. Roots sinking between the soft folds of his brain.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“She needs a break,” says Amelia, her tone drifting to a far-off place, pulling Simon from his wayward dreaming.

She is looking down at her phone. She is looking at the photo of you. Amelia glances up at Simon, her features softening into gentle sadness. “That’s really why I came. Hoped you’d be here.” She shrugs.

“Here I am,” replies Simon.

Amelia nods. “Here you are,” she echoes.

Locking her phone, Amelia exchanges it for the gloves in her pockets. Simon glances over at Ben and lightly moves his empty glass in the man’s direction. He comes over and retrieves the glass.

“She’s working herself to the bone. Doing everything for Evie and I when it’s not necessary.” Amelia taps her gloves against her open palm. “And she’s too stubborn to hand the reigns over to me. The woman needs a break. Away from all of us.”

Simon understands. You’re too selfless to step aside. You need to be forced or prompted. Amelia knows this too which is why she came searching for him. Hearing that you’re overworking yourself displeases him, but he’s also bloody fucking happy that he can have you to himself for a bit.

“For how long?” asks Simon, smothering the hopefulness that wants to burst forth.

Amelia frowns in thought. “A few days. Maybe a week. If she accepts that.”

Oh, you’ll accept. Simon will see to it.

“Another drink?” Ben meanders over from the other side of the bar.

Simon shakes his head. “Paying out, Ben.”

Amelia smirks and slips on her gloves as Simon hands off what’s owed. The tension and confusion from earlier are now raw energy, pumping through his loins like electricity. The entire walk to Amelia’s is easy, all the aches and pains in his body suddenly silent as if they too are excited to see you.

When Simon enters Amelia’s home, he finds you sitting on the floor in the living room. You’re surrounded by piles of laundry. Closest to Simon are small stacks of papers. They’re scattered off to the side in some sort of organized chaos that he can’t figure out. Your laptop is open in front of you resting on an ottoman. You’re reading emails while folding laundry.

Bravo stands to the right of Simon but doesn’t move in. He’s waiting for Simon’s command but even he can feel the dog’s excitement to greet you.

You haven’t noticed Simon yet but he certainly notices you. While he’d love to stop and just bask in your beauty, there are so many other things catching his attention that give life to what Amelia was telling him.

Tiredness covers you like a weighted blanket. You’re slouched forward, each movement accompanied by a sigh and a delay that Simon doesn’t like. His gaze focuses and it is then that he sees the slight tremble in your hands as you smooth the top of a folded towel.

Behind Simon, Amelia shuts the front door. The sound of it closing jostles you. Your head snaps in his direction.

“Simon.”

It is a relief. A surprise.

The exhaustion in your voice is cold and palpable like butter right out of the fridge. You’re ready to fall over. Simon doesn’t need to guess because when you attempt to stand, you wobble a bit, reaching out to steady yourself on the sofa.

Amelia is right. You are overworking yourself.

It takes Simon three strides to get to you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, he lightly presses, indicating that you should sit back down. Without protest, you follow his silent command, and Simon sinks to your level.

“What is all this?” he asks, keeping his tone calm.

Beneath the mask, Simon is furious. Not with you but with himself. He should have listened to his instinct. He should have given in to those old impulses. If he had, he could be helping you right now and perhaps you wouldn’t be so goddamn tired.

The sigh you release if heavy like a boulder. It presses on Simon’s chest. His hand on your shoulder shifts, cradling the side of your throat, his thumb brushing against your jawline. You don’t say anything. You’re too defeated—too exhausted.

Bravo cannot reach you with Simon in the way. The German Shepard opts for the ottoman, resting his head on it, ears drooping slightly.

“Simon is going to take you for a bit.” Amelia’s voice drifts over Simon’s shoulder and your eyes widen as you glance at the woman.

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” snaps Amelia. “You’re doing far too much. Let us help.”

That’s a fucking understatement.

Simon presents his other hand and you take it. His hand on your neck slips away to reach behind you to help you guide you to your feet.

 “Go pack a bag,” murmurs Simon, his palm splaying wide across your lower back. “You’re staying with me.”

Your lips part as if to form a protest but Simon isn’t having that. He arches a single eyebrow, daring you to question what he’s told you to do.

Your mouth snaps shut.

Simon leans in. “Good girl,” he whispers.

This time when your lips part, it is with surprise. You blink, a bit stunned, and then a flood of warmth rushes up your neck and cheeks, your gaze dropping to the floor, face turning away in embarrassment.

Your reaction is something. It is something other than tiredness. Other than exhaustion and weakness. This is a piece of you he’s seen before and wants to see again. You shouldn’t be shoving it away to take care of others.

Against his chest is your flattened palm. Your fingers curl inward as your embarrassed demeanor turns into observance. You’re staring at the laundry, upper body twisting back and forth as you look for something.

“What is it?” prompts Simon, following your movements as if he can read your mind and know what it is you’re searching for.

Reaching down, you toss a few unfolded pieces of laundry aside to reveal your phone. Retrieving it, you glance down at the screen.

“Shit,” you mutter. It doesn’t light up. Your phone is dead. No wonder you haven’t been answering him.

“We’ll worry about that later.” Simon nods toward the stairs. “Go.”

Back at his flat, Simon takes your packed bag and drops it off in the bedroom. You stand in the space between the living room and kitchen, lingering with your hands clasped in front of you.

“Sit. I’ll make us something.” Simon gestures toward the couch and you slowly unfurl, nearly falling into the sofa once you get there.

Simon rummages around in his pantry and fridge, knowing that it’s best to find a snack for you to munch on while he cooks dinner. When is the last time you ate a real meal or fucking slept? Would you even admit the truth to him?

He eventually brings you tea and a variety of crisps. Your “thank you” is slightly slurred like you’re close to falling into the lands of Morpheus. Bravo curls up next to you, one paw touching your thigh while the rest of his body reclines away.

Simon stays in the kitchen. When he emerges to bring you food, he finds you asleep, grasping one of the bags of crisps against your chest. The opened end is facing Bravo and the poor dog is having an existential crisis on whether or not he should stick his face in or leave the bag be.

He should let you sleep, but Simon also knows you need to fucking eat something.

Gently, Simon places your plates on the coffee table. He removes the bag of crisps from your arms before rousing you. The meal is devoured. Tea is had. Simon throws on a movie, and you snuggle up to him, sinking into his warmth.

 This is how it should be. With you in his arms.

Twenty minutes in and you’re asleep again. Simon doesn’t care at all. You are here. You are close. You are safe. Like this, Simon can protect you. He can take care of you. Simon finishes the movie by himself, deciding that only after he’ll carry you to bed.

As he shifts to lift you, you awaken slightly, arms sliding around his neck to snuggle closer. Simon turns his face into you, breathes you in, allowing your scent to fill his lungs. You’re drifting off again as he adjusts his grip and stands. His bad leg wants to give out but Simon bites back the quick flare of pain.

Fuck that. Simon is stronger than that.

In the bedroom, Simon bends at the knees, thighs straining as he tosses back the covers on one side of the bed. Sliding you underneath, he tucks you in. You turn over to face the opposite direction, arms curling around his pillow like it’s him. He watches as you bring it closer, nostrils flaring as if you’re inhaling him too.

Simon changes into more comfortable clothing before sliding in next to you.

For him, his sleep is absent of dreams.

There are no shadows or fire. No memory. Just blankness. Nothing.

He wakes early, well before the time he actually needs to open up the shop for customers. Simon doesn’t want to. He’d like to stay in bed all day with you, but he also knows that trying to rearrange today’s schedule just for a bit of personal gratification is a fucking rude thing to do.

Simon stretches, all the joints in his body popping as Bravo’s head appears above the end of the bed. The dog tilts his head and Simon gestures toward the door. Bravo takes off, heading outside to go guard the place from squirrels.

Shifting to the edge of the bed, Simon rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck. More popping but the stiffness quickly recedes.  Glancing behind him, Simon finds you still asleep. Things have changed though. The bedding is twisted around your body and you’ve removed some clothes in the night.

He cannot help himself. Simon’s gaze glides over all the exposed skin. The itch to reach out and run just his fingertips across the curve of your hip is unbearable. Simon has to clench his hands into fists just to stop himself from touching you.

Pushing off from the bed, Simon enters the bathroom, seeking a hot shower. All his clothes including his mask go on the floor. He is aching between his legs, all the blood in his body rushing happily to his quickly swelling cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters, stepping under the water.

Wrapping his hand around the base, Simon begins to stroke. The small bit of underwear he kept as a token is still tucked away in his dresser, but he doesn’t need it. Not anymore. He now has the memory of you, and the fact that you are currently in his bed. It’s enough to drive that pulsing desire higher.

Simon rests his forearm against the shower wall. He leans forward, his forehead coming into contact with that arm. He’s so fucking busy stroking his cock, that he doesn’t hear the opening of the bathroom door.

He doesn’t hear it close.

Nor does he hear the shower door.

It isn’t until your hand slides over his that Simon realizes what’s happening.

Your other hand rests against his back, splaying wide, moving up and down in gentle passes.

“Let me,” you murmur and Simon releases himself, only for you take his place, stroking him perfectly in utter pleasure.

A shiver rattles up his spine. You’re not looking at his face. You stand off to his right, face lightly pressed against the right side of his upper back near his shoulder. Lips move against skin, leaving kisses behind. You give Simon these small gifts with each stroke of your hand along his shaft.

Do you know that your mouth and hand on his back are caressing his scars? Do you know? Because Simon does, and it make him feel unworthy. Those are no longer earned marks but ones of failure.

But it’s not like you know that.

Over the scars is ink. Black ink. Perhaps you feel their lines and ridges under the tattoos. Perhaps you don’t. Yet Simon knows, and he doesn’t hate the touch. Other people he’s fucked have touched them, commented on them, tried to even sexualize them.

You’re not touching the scars. You are but you aren’t. You’re touching him. Touching Simon.

With a gentle twist of your wrist, you glide down his cock and circle the head with your thumb. Simon groans, leaning into your hold. He imagines you sinking to your knees and taking him into your mouth. He imagines you spreading your legs wide in open invitation. Of him sliding into you, watching himself disappear into your welcoming body.

Your pace increases slightly, just enough to drag Simon toward his end.

He bursts, his release marking the wall, but Simon is already grabbing your wrist, twisting around to face you.

You’re fast. Already, you have one hand thrown over your eyes, a playful smile plastered on your face.

Simon doesn’t care. Not really. The mask is just habit.

Gently, Simon guides your hand away from your face and yet you still keep your eyes closed.

“Don’t want to look at me?” he asks teasingly.

You giggle. “Feels a bit wrong.”

Simon smirks and then grabs your shoulders, turning you around to face the shower wall. He leans down, pressing his lips to your ear. “Your turn.”

Your hands go out to steady yourself as Simon slides his hand between your legs. He moans softly at the contact. You’re already wet for him, and it’s not because of the water. You’re fucking aroused. Needy. All Simon can think about is fucking you with his fingers before he fucks you with his tongue.

Simon wants to give you more but that has to wait. When he takes you like that, he needs to have all of you. Without interruptions. Without distractions. That’s how he wanted it to be three years ago at Riot Room. He wanted to take you home and fuck you on and over every surface in his flat. He wanted to make you scream his name until your voice went hoarse.

He circles your clit with his thumb a few times before testing with a finger. It slides right in and Simon feels the gentle flutter of your pussy adjusting to him. With his other hand, Simon slides it up your body to grab the front of your throat, holding you still. He presses his lips to the top of your head, not caring that the water is close to running into his eyes.

Simon begins to thrust and swirl, inserting a second finger quickly, wanting to feel how you’ll stretch for him. You whimper when his thumb makes another pass over your clit. It is sweet and Simon grins against your scalp, drinking in your little sounds.

But you are also reaching for him, left hand dropping from the wall to move behind you, palming his cock back to hardness even as Simon’s fingers fuck your pussy. You rock back, indicating what you want.

Simon nearly loses it right then.

He nearly snaps.

All he has to do is arch your hips a bit, maybe bend slightly at the knee. He’d fucking slide right in. He could fuck you right here against the shower wall, watch you whimper and beg, pinned between two hard surfaces.

You arch your back. Rub against him. His cock slides against the spot where your cunt and his fingers meet.

A vision of you clawing at the shower wall as he fucks you senseless clouds his mind. It infiltrates. Digs its feet in.

Simon nearly gives in right then as you orgasm, squeezing around his fingers. He nearly breaks the promise to himself.

But he somehow controls himself. Instead of giving in, Simon removes his hand from between your legs and twists his fingers in your hair, tugging to arch your back and bend you enough so he can reach that gorgeous fucking mouth.

His lips come down on yours and you moan against him. Simon’s hand at your throat eases, slips away, trailing over breast and waist and hip before stabilizing on your lower stomach. With this support, Simon slides his cock between your legs.

He does not penetrate, just rocks back and forth. With your thighs pressed together, and the slickness of your orgasm freshly coating your sex, he can pretend he’s inside you. Simon knows it isn’t enough but it’ll have to do for now.

The hand on your stomach sinks lower, shifting to your pelvis. His fingers find your clit. You’re already so sensitive from the previous orgasm that the second takes moments to come to life. Simon savors it, allows it to feed his own movements until he cannot contain his own. Pressing on your pelvis, Simon keeps you in place as finishes, his cock soaking in your juices.

The water is growing cold and Simon is fucking smug.

Slowly, he eases his cock from between your thighs, perfectly content with what just transpired. But his cum is fucking everywhere. It’s literally dripping from your sex.

“Fuck,” murmurs Simon, gently wiping some of that away with water.

That’s something the two of you need to fucking discuss. The first time the two of you had sex, there was a condom. This time, Simon doesn’t want there to be any barriers, but that cannot fucking happen without birth control. You might not be on it, and if that’s the case, the two of you will have to figure something else out.

You press into him. “Simon,” you groan, lips parting in wanton need.

A growl leaves his throat as he gives you what he wants. He nips and sucks on your bottom lip before drawing away, leaving you to face the shower wall. Simon shuts off the water and lightly tugs on your hand.

“Come on.”

He tugs on your hand again but you don’t move. Frowning, Simon grabs your shoulders and forces you to turn.

He blinks and then bursts out laughing. “What are you doing?” Your eyes are closed and your mouth is a thin line. “You can look at me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Simon chuckles, releasing your shoulders. He places one hand flat against the shower wall. Leaning in, Simon drops his voice to low purr. “Think I’m monstrous?”

With his words come the pebbling of your skin. He watches in real time as it fans out across your body. He grins in triumph.

“The very worst,” you reply softly.

Pushing off from the wall, Simon stands tall, shoulders squared, chest forward. “Look at me,” he says, and this time it’s a command.

You suck in a breath before one eye opens. It’s more of a squint but then you open the other, blinking a few times.

For some stupid fucking reason, Simon is a bit nervous. He’s never been nervous like this. Not when it comes to his face.

At first, your eyes widen, and Simon’s chest clenches tight as if a ribbon is twisted around his ribcage. Then, your brow softens, and your mouth forms the most gorgeous smile he’s ever seen. Your hands instantly reach toward his face in eagerness only to pause just before making contact.

The retreat is shallow. You’re asking permission.

“It’s okay,” murmurs Simon, because it is.

You close this distance and Simon turns his face into your soft hands. Your thumbs stroke over his cheeks. Your fingers trace his brow and nose. Every touch is exploratory and gentle, but fucking bliss.

“Hiding all this from me?” you tease. “You’ve been holding out on me, Simon.”

He chuckles, happiness vibrating in his chest. Clasping your hands with his own, Simon brings them down to his chest. In one motion, the two of you are coming together, lips meeting. This is all softness. All tenderness.

Simon draws back, licks his lips. “Will you go away with me?”

“On a trip?”

He nods, stealing one more kiss before continuing. “Next weekend? I can move a few things around.”

“I’m not sure,” you say slowly.

“If you say no I’m telling Amelia.”

You laugh, almost snort, and shake your head. “Fine. Where to?”

“It’s a surprise,” whispers Simon.

You pull back slightly, an amused expression on your face. Simon grins and steps out of the shower, bringing you with him. With towel in hand, Simon soaks up the droplets on his skin. He never takes his eyes off you as you dry yourself. The moment you’re done, Simon snags the towel from you and tosses it to the side.

“Come here,” he growls, needing you all over again.

You playfully bat at his hands but it’s all for show. You easily give in to him, allowing Simon to drag you onto the bed. He sighs as he pushes your legs wide, settling between them to drape one over each of his shoulders.

Dragging you to his mouth, Simon forgoes all teasing and closes the distance. Your back arches off the bed, hands flying to his head as his tongue penetrates your pussy.

It is morning.

He’s simply enjoying his breakfast.

And Simon won’t leave the table until he’s finished his meal.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @lialacleaf @theshrikeandcanary @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @kayden666 @36namey @creamwhxre @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @rogerrhqpsody @c0pernicus @josephquinnschesthair @corvusmorte @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @knight4xmas @jupiternighties @darling006 @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @carma-fanficaddict @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @mudisgranapat @heeheehoohoohahahihi @miaraei @contractedcriteria

[toastedjeans]

Siren Tower Maurice, Doise and Peddito!

The main cast is over here!

I just realized Doise's gloves should be more white but I'm too lazy to change that, just imagine they're white okay?

Some info about them down here

Maurice

Peppino's older brother and a piece of shit, who constantly belittles him and calls him a disappointment. His apartment has water damage or something similar, or maybe it got destroyed, so now he temporarily lives with Peppino until his flat is repaired. (Alternative: he didn't pay rent and got kicked out, continues not to pay rent to Peppino because "we're family, you can't charge your own brother.") He's either divorced or his girlfriend left him, is only allowed to see his son once a month. It's probably for the better.

Peppino is incredibly fed up with him but he tries to endure it, until he one day snaps and probably slaps him, they end up both kicking the shit out of each other (but Peppino is stronger because i said so).

Maurice invites himself to poker night and other activities Pep and the others do after work times, then complains that he's bored or something (M: "This sucks, why did you invite me?" P: "I didn't??"). He gets along a little with Mr. Stick, but only because they're both gamblers, he's somehow even more unlucky than Stick and keeps losing almost all his money. Doesn't get along with Hazel cause he doesn't take her seriously, thinks she's childish and stupid.

Doise

Goblin shark. He's basically Noise but blue. Noise hates him because he thinks Doise is imitating him, but they're just the same species of siren. He's a little more mellow and doesn't go feral as much or as easily as Noise. He throws rocks cause he doesn't know he's immune to sea urchin and puffer fish poison / venom. He can also go on land but needs water nearby.

He has heterochromia (one eye is blue, the other is purple-ish brown), and has the same "whiskers" as Noise, just turned down.

Absolutely terrified of Peddito, as he seems to always want to kill him, and has tried doing so a few times. Sometimes plays dead hoping that Peddito leaves him alone, it doesn't really work though.

Peddito

A failed clone of Peppino, made before Fakey. Pizzahead didn't like him as much because he didn't get the eyes right so he threw him out (basically the Other Eye problem, but he ended up leaving his eye sockets empty out of frustration). He can't see because of this, but he can still navigate through the water effortlessly. There's way less sea creature DNA in him, so he looks almost completely human just with a fin on his back and webbed hands. It's unclear where his vibrant coloring comes from.

He's strangely obsessed with Doise for some reason and doesn't interact with anyone cause he's just not interested in anyone else. He actually wants to be friends with Doise, but since Pizzahead designed him to be a killing machine, he doesn't know his own strength and ends up almost killing Doise several times. His "killer side" comes out every time he's near Doise, and he can sense his presence because of this.

When not near Doise, Peddito seems almost dead, he moves very little, and is unresponsive. He can't talk, neither human nor siren language, but he understands both. He doesn't swim, just floats through the water like a dead fish, despite this he's incredibly agile and fast. Would follow Doise on land, and could survive with pretty much no problems. He just slides across the floor when on land, as if he was on rails. The bottoms of his feet are always slippy, making it easier for him to move. Might leave a trail wherever he goes.

And here's your reward for reading, some doodles of various age and messiness

Also some shippy stuff hehe

[ramp-it-up]

Bucky Barnes and the Summer Soldier- One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Bucky has been looking for you for a while. Is he going to destroy you before you complete your mission?

Word Count 2.2K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S MUT! Read at your own risk. Curate your own experience. Reader is confined in a mental health faculty, suppressed memories, Pursuit, implied former combat, kidnapping, coercion, mind control, dub con. Raw s ex, hair pulling, rough s ex, cream pie, c um play/oral (m receiving), a ssault. Google translate Hausa and Russian. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is a result of this ask from @flordeamatista. I have taken great liberties with the MCU cannon and timeline. This is fiction! As always, reblog if you like it!

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You ran for your life, lungs burning, feet flying.

You looked behind you to see that the one pursuing you was not far off. You ducked down a hallway and into an open door. 

Your chest heaved as you leaned against the wall and looked around for a hiding space.

Fragmented memories were coming back to you during this pursuit, and at this moment, the sense of running barefoot through tall reeds on the banks of a river overwhelmed you. 

You shook it off, although you couldn’t help yourself from looking to the air for your favorite brightly colored water fowl. Your heart dropped when you looked around to register an empty room with a solitary gurney. The fact that you were trapped in a mental hospital and not outside it sucked the air out of you. 

And then you heard his footsteps.

Bucky slowed his pace as his ears perked up, and he opened the same door you did moments before. He’d come for you an hour ago and you’d managed to evade him ever since. Typical for one who’d taken the serum. You were a hard target to acquire, but he was determined.

He scanned the empty room, checking for trap doors or hidden panels. He walked over to the windows, which were sealed shut. He looked down on the courtyard that patients weren’t allowed to use and shook his head, then, he made his way out of the door again.

You waited three minutes after you heard his footsteps retreating before you moved the ceiling tile and dropped down from where you’d been hiding.

For some reason, the man you were hiding from you terrified you. Ever since you saw his face weeks ago when you fought him on a mission, you’d been plagued with strange memories. Which made your Master have to reset you again and again. You resented that. 

Despite the fact that you felt impelled destroy him, you did not want to face the dark-haired man in black with the piercing blue eyes again. You may not know your own name, but you knew that man had some mysterious power over you. Even more so than the Power Broker.

Just as you reached for the doorknob, the door jerked open, the man in black returning your stare with a rueful grin. You’d been too lost in your own thoughts to be fully aware of his presence.

“Daga karshe na sameki masoyiyata.”

Your ears perked up at the language that the man spoke. You understood it, although you’d spoken French for as long as you could remember, which wasn’t long. Maybe this horrible institution wasn’t your home.

“Why did you call me that?”

Your eyes widened when English came out of your mouth. It seemed a natural response to this man. You were very confused, more than you normally were, which was always.

The man was inching closer to you now.

“Because that is who you are, Soyayya ta.”

“No! That’s not true!”

You hurled yourself at the man, climbing up his body and winding up with your legs around his neck. You squeezed,  hoping to choke him out while he grinned up at you.

“Yes it is.” 

His voice was weak, as if he was gasping for breath. For an unknown reason, you let up on his windpipe.

Suddenly, you were sat on the gurney, your right leg in his left hand. You could not get out of his grip and you two stared at each while he held your legs apart. When he licked his lips was when you kicked him in the sternum. Clearly, he was surprised at the force, which caused him to double over, but he quickly recovered and caught you before you moved two feet, grabbing your bicep and bringing your arm behind your back, placing you none too gently against the wall.

You grunted as you felt all of him, including his manhood, pressed hard and insistent upon your back. 

Was he going to violate you? 

Did you want him to?

Yet another language flowed out of his mouth, which was close to the shell of your ear. You suppressed a shiver as you heard his velvet voice. 

“Sygrayem v nashu malen'kuyu igru, kukolka?”

He snaked his left arm around your neck and pressed you back further into him as his gloved hand turned your face to his. He leaned around, as if he was going to kiss you, and opened his mouth. His breath fanned your face as he bared his teeth and bit the pointer finger of the black leather glove he was wearing. He used his mouth to tear the glove off to reveal a black and golden hand. You were mesmerized by it until it was quickly clamped over your mouth.

The sensation was familiar and when you tasted the metal; it was nearly orgasmic. Your eyes rolled baack into your head and you  all but ignored the man’s other hand roaming your body.

“I’m just checking you to see if you’re okay, Doll.”

The hand tasted like home, like warm air and smells of your favorite foods. It tasted like beautiful people and excellence and safety and…Wakanda. Your eyes flew open when you realized.

Vibranium. 

You sobbed as memories came flooding to your mind. The pathetic sounds were muffled by the vibranium hand.

Your mother. Your father. The river that was your home. Your weapons. Your money. The vow you took when you became a Dora Milaje and Shuri’s personal guard. The same vow that you broke when you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier…

“Farar kerkecina.…James…”

“Shhhh Doll. I’m here now.” 

Bucky pulled you into his arms from behind, and you held on to the limbs that were wrapped around you as you cried, one human and one created by the Princess, Shuri.

Finally, you turned around and looked up at the love of your life. He peered back at you, eyes full of concern, but also a mixture of relief, love, and yes, need.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer him, instead, you asked your own question.

“How long, James? How long have we been apart?”

Bucky brought his hand up to your face, thumb tracing your chin and fingers in your dense curls.

“A little over two years.”

You gasped and tears fell again fresh and new. 

“I searched for you every day. I promise, Doll. And you’ve been right under my nose…”

Your heart melted.

“I know you did. The Power Broker is devious. She did horrible things. Made me do…”

And then he kissed you. His lips were the softest and strongest you’d ever tasted. You licked into his mouth and fisted his t shirt between you. 

“You don’t have to tell me. I know. And I’m going to find her and bring her to justice.” 

Bucky was panting as your hand strayed to touch the bare skin and the metal under his shirt. He smirked when you pinched his nipple.

“She is mine to destroy.”

Bucky’s smirk turned into a full fledged grin when you glared up at him and opened his pants. He shivered when you fisted him.

“There’s my girl.”

You separated from him as you pulled your shirt over your head. Next went your pants and underwear as Bucky’s eyes roamed your body. He licked his chops, just as the White Wolf would.

“You sure you don’t wanna leave, Doll? Need to check you out. Need to get you an examination… get you safe…”

You backed away from him toward the gurney.

“I need to have you James. Please. I remember. It’s been so long. I need some control back. Please.”

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from moving toward your upturned ass as you bent over the gurney and looked over your shoulder at him.

“You told me the serum heightened everything. But I didn’t understand before. I need you now, James.”

Bucky was drawn to you as if on a string.

“I get it, Doll. Everything is so much. You sure you alright, Doll?”

You hadn’t said that you were before, but you avoided the topic again.

“See for yourself, farar kerkecina.”

Bucky rubbed your ass, eyes glazed over, lust flowing through his veins. It had been a long 26 months and visions of you clouded not only his dreams, but every spare waking moment. He couldn’t help it.

His metal hand quickly undid his belt and pants while his right, his flesh, dipped into you, feeling the wetness between your legs. You reached back to the arm that shined, incrementally trying to bring him into you. He held you off, but he did slowly start to swipe his cockhead through your neglected folds.

“Oh…”

Bucky watched and drooled as he took in the vision of your mouth and that wide open, perfect O of those perfect lips.

“So gorgeous… Soyayya ta..”

He slowly breached your tight hole, and your mouth widened impossibly even more as the stretch almost took you out. It hurt, but it hurt so good, the only positive sensation you’d had in over two years. 

This time, Bucky let you reach back to grasp the base of him, slowing down as he saw the difficulty with which you were having taking him. You adjusted his aim, and he paused, hand on your hip as you spread your cheeks so that he could get inside you. Your eyes met in surprised sensation as he was finally able to slide all the way home. 

“Feel so damn good, White Wolf!”

You started moving faster on his cock as his hands slid up your wiast to your tits, squeezing, groping, making up for lost time.

He was stroking a slow, steady, deep pace, as his metal fingers made their way into your open mouth, pressing down your throat as your tongue swirled around your native metal. 

“So goood….”

You were gagging around his fingers, partly because of his actions, and partly because he felt so good inside you. You reached back and grabbed his shirt, pulling on it as you took his thick cock inside you, looking back at him stretching your tiny hole with awe. You looked into each other’s eyes as you felt him swelling impossibly.

“Love your bald head, but I like this hair, Doll. I can do this…”

And Bucky grabbed your curls, pulling on your roots deliciously and stretching your neck so that he could engage you in a filthy kiss while he drove into you. You separated, gasping for breath.

“Bast! James, is your cock made of vibranium too?”

He laughed at the old joke, which made the rounds of the Dora until you found out the truth.

“You make me feel like it is, soyayya ta.”

Bucky let you go so that you could hold on to the gurney and fuck yourself on his cock.

He grabbed your breasts again and the look of surprised lust came was mirrored on both of your faces as you felt yourself squeezing him with your impending orgasm.

“C’mon, Soyayya ta. Give it to me.”

“James, oh James. Oh….!”

“Good god!”

You bent fully over the gurney when you came, and Bucky had a clear view of your beautiful cream on his cock. That’s when he started pounding you out properly, using you to reach his end. Your senses were so alive that you felt each stream and splash of his cum inside you, and it caused your sensitive cunt to shudder. You lay there under him as he collapsed on top of you, relishing the feel of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Bucky kissed your shoulder and down your back as he looked around for something to clean up with. You looked back at him, and stood up, Bucky’s spend leaking down your legs.

“Let me.”

You gave him that look as you bent over, taking his still semi-hard cock in your hand. You stared at him straight on as you took him in your mouth and cleaned him off.

“That mouth, those eyes… you’re killing me here…”

You smiled around his girth and then opened your mouth to let him see the effects of your handiwork.

 “On my life, Doll. I will never get enough of you.”

He pulled you up to standing and leaned down to give you a filthy kiss.

“So glad to have you back in my arms.”

Bucky turned around and leaned on the gurney as he held you. You leaned into him, tears pricking your eyes as you felt the same emotions, but knowing what you had to do. 

“I love you, farar kerkecina…”

You gave him a tender kiss on the lips before you delivered a blow to his vagus nerve. Bucky went out immediately, and you gently laid him on the gurney before you got dressed again.

“I have to finish this with the Power Broker, and I know you will try to stop me.”

You tucked the underwear that you’d cleaned up with into his jeans pocket, trading them for the keys to this asylum.

“We will be together soon, my love.”

You gave him a kiss on his perfect lips before you quickly made your out of the hospital, on your way to kill Sharon Carter for making you the Summer Soldier and taking the child from your belly.

Daga karshe na sameki masoyiyata (Hausa)– "I finally found you my love"

Soyayya ta (Hausa)— My Love

Sygrayem v nashu malen'kuyu igru, kukolka? (Russian)-- "Shall we play our little game, Doll?"

Farar kerkecina (Hausa).… "My white wolf"

[fluloa]

my headcanons for the sully family

JAKE:

- has an apron that says ‘kiss the chef’

- has thought about getting an ear piercing and would like to

- always itchy, like will be constantly scratching at a random part of his body during a casual conversation

- had a loner phase when he was in middle school

- doesn’t like fuzzy things, he hates the texture and the way it feels on his skin, gives him a bad type of goosebumps

- adhd. said what i said

- flexes his big dad muscles every chance he can get (good for him tbh)

- finds it so relaxing when neytiri plays with his hair

- is a big purrer, to the point where it’s embarassing and he HATES it but he can’t help it

- cries every single time he watches the start of finding nemo

- hates watching reality tv

NEYTIRI:

- loves watching reality tv

- bites off her toenails (sorry not sorry)

- really likes apple juice

- loves the song cover me in sunshine by pink, every time she plays it, lo’ak screams out in agony

- a sad beige baby mom

- makes weird faces when feeding babies and does the sound ‘nom nom nom’

- loves cats. jake got one for her for her birthday and he doesn’t think she’s ever seen her happier

- wine lover and proud (especially with these little shit of a kids)

- has a collection of perfumes and jewellery that she only touched like once or twice. poor girl just forgets about them bc of all the stress she’s holdin

- the type of mom to demand every kid’s room is clean when somebody is going to be over. lo’ak is always the one to say “they won’t even be coming into our room!”

- lo’ak gets a whooping for that

NETEYAM:

- asks jake for his old band t-shirts

- loves water parks and will say weeee when going down the slides

- lets tuk put makeup on his face. but that stopped after she used some cheap shop makeup on him and he got an allergic reaction from it

- sometimes he wears belt with his jeans and it is funny

- always forgets to knock before opening doors. once caught jake butt naked and has never been the same again

- his favourite color is purple but he says it’s blue so that people don’t make fun of him

- loves playing laser tag even though he sucks ass at it

- he’s a fan of marvel and he’s always first at the cinemas when a movie comes out

- likes to skateboard. surprisingly very good at it since he’s only used it like ten times since he got it for 12th birthday

- for some odd reason, he really likes helping neytiri out with grocery shopping? also a guilty pleasure to pick out some of his favorite snacks and being the perfect little son that he is, neytiri always says yes

- brushes his teeth DAY AND NIGHT without a skip

KIRI:

- definitely plays my singing monsters

- had a monster can collection phase (will not admit to it although)

- that being said, had an ‘indie kid’ phase and begged norm for a couple of unused cds so she could paint them

- listens to mitski and lana del ray and flexes it to people and attacks them if they say they don’t know who they are or they don’t like their music

- wants her septum pierced but by neytiri’s words, “i’d rather die.”

- does her own hair, hence why it’s so messily beautiful

- neytiri cuts her hair though, as much as she doesn’t like to admit it

- would really like a tattoo, but neytiri has said no obviously

- tried asking jake for the tattoo, but jake was terrified of neytiri’s expression so he said no

- then tried to do a stick and poke and it failed miserably (rejected from her skin a week later)

- weirdly insecure of her nose, sometimes she likes it, sometimes she doesn’t

- jumps on the trampoline with tuk until she’s passed out from exhaustion

- plant lover. like seriously has a dozen in her room and will panic if she hasn’t gotten the time to water them for a day

LO’AK:

- plays mortal kombat and has an addiction to it. will yell out fatality when putting neteyam in a headlock

- begs neytiri for waves (she always says no, thank god)

- has got led lights in his room that are stuck to the wall with shitty sticky tape. you can easily see it, too

- always facetiming tsiyera but half of the time she doesn’t answer

- the type to lick chip dust off of his fingers until the last speck is demolished

- SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE BOYS

- has a pet fish and secretly adores her, her name’s shelly and will go into deep detail if you ask about her

- favorite food is doritos and takis

- was a ‘all girls are the same’ type before he met tsiyera

- wears his worn ass jordans religiously

TUK:

- has a pink ipad

- makes her own fake youtube tutorials on said ipad. kiri sneakily watches them when she’s sleeping

- can do an impressive amount of tricks on the trampoline and each time she learns a new one she yells out, “DAD!!! DAD, DAD, DAD, COME WATCH THIS!!!! DAD!! DAD!! DAD!!!!”

- her heart broke when jake with a few drinks in his system decided to jump on the trampoline on a party night and ended up tearing a massive hole in the middle of it

- has a CRIPPLING obsession with slime and neytiri absolutely hates it. always searching up ‘how to make slime no borax no glue’ and always makes a mess of wherever she makes it

- SHE LOVES DISNEY and her favorite princess is moana

- begged neytiri to let her dye the ends of her hair purple. neytiri used one of those ten washes dyes in a box and didn’t bleach her hair before because “no way am i putting bleach in my daughter’s hair” when it didn’t work because tuk’s hair is literally pitch black, she cried

- she literally loves the low space buns hairstyle and will forever ask neytiri to do it for her. but will end up crying because of how hard neytiri pulls her hair (it’s not even that hard)

- has a huge collection of squishmallows (jake got her them all)

- doesn’t actually like chocolate but loves candy

- the type to bounce on neytiri and jake’s bed to wake them up

[factual-fantasy]

25 ASKS! THANK YOU!! :DD 🚲

Thank you! And welcome back!! :DD Though what a poor time to come back around to the dumpster fire that is Tumblr--

If you haven't heard the news, we got a bunch of A.I. crap goin on. You'd best go into all your blogs settings individually to "opt out of 3rd party something something". Gotta protect your artwork and reblogs from being A.I. data scraped!

@fnaf-smilingcritters0

Thank you!! :DD

That, and also I think they would get more brittle as they age.. :(

Oh yeah for sure! :D Though Seafoam's beard/hair is made of actual seafoam. So its not that tasty- <XDD

That sounds deliciously dangerous! XDD 😋

I do know that Jam is their blood at least! :0 ..at least I think so-

@tallchest13-blog

XDD I give you an E for effort!

@astaherussy (Referencing this post)

XDD I can almost see him doing that as a social experiment of sorts. Just to see that everyone else would say.

Its all fun and games until everyone starts responding with "Oh absolutely" "Everyday matey.." "Oh yeah, all the time!" Peso would be shocked- XDD

He does not handle the separation well <XD

Well "ship" usually refers to head-cannoning/wanting two characters to be romantically involved. Even if they are not in canon. Blue and Seafoam aren't a ship, they just are.. well, together. Its written into the canon that they are together. So its not a ship and its feels a lot different than a ship would..

As for Peach and Mario, a quick google search says they are canonically mutually romantically interested in each other. Same with Luigi and Daisy. I only tagged my posts as "Mario x Peach" and "Luigi x Daisy".. because that's what people search for when they wanted to see romantic content of those characters-

And even if google straight up lied/is wrong and it turns out not to be confirmed? Those two pairings are so strongly suggested/implied in canon, that I don't get any of negative feelings I associate with ships.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I just don't like ships. It really isn't my thing for a lot of reasons. There's a loooot of not great feelings associated with them. None of my own characters make me feel that way becuase I created them. And their relationships are written into the story..

And the Mario pairings are canon. Or at the very least, they are soooo strongly implied, that I don't get any of the negative feelings associate with ships even if they weren't canonically a thing.. I hope that made sense..?

@citrusfruitman

DUDE THAT SOUNDS LIKE A NIGHTMARE- IM TERRIFIED OF SPIDERS-- <XDD

Huh, the more you know! :0

(Link in question)

XDD Oh yeah absolutely

She will flatten that cake in under 5 minutes. And suffer absolutely no consequences what so ever. Lucky gal <XD

THESE ARE ALL SO GOOD! :DD Rainbow cobbler sounds like it would fit the best considering the ships colors.. But I want the name to relate to coral in some way.. hmm..

@blackcatzcandraw

Uhg.. yeah, I'm aware.. its a good thing I don't plan to post Octonauts content much anymore-

I don't like to think of my OCs as drinkers.. but if anyone did drink, it would be Louis. He's a jolly character that just likes to have a good time with his crew. :)

I do intend for them to raid other ships. :0 But they usually go for ships that can defend themselves to some extent and have loot. You're not gonna see them raid a ship full of orphans and steal their biscuits and pennies-

@yourstrulylightstar283

Sorry, I don't take requests!.. Also considering how tough my DK is, and the fact that he's the alpha- I don't think he would ever get bloody and bruised-

If I remember correctly, the cookie run version of cake creatures are dogs..?

XDD wait doesn't mild dissolve cookies though?-

Hmm.. I'm not sure. I know that there are other cookies in the game that work with metal and stuff. So an electronic toy wouldn't be impossible. If it was small they'd probably assume it was a toy. If it was huge..? Mayyybe they'd think its some kind of malicious machine..? <:0

ALWKNS XDD OH YEAH!

I think Spidercrab is the smart cookie and Louis is the tough cookie XDD

@beryl-shade

Going off of the games.. I thiiiink an "oven" would be like a birthplace..?

[yaut-jaknowit]

Probably lane, but the origin story of Uihoys blue feather? Uihoy boring Vic’tao with stories meant to teach him a lesson about his temper and impatience. I wonder what Uihoy was like in his younger days!!

An Elder and His War Stories

Pairings: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x Vic'tao (Male Yautja)

Word Count: 1559

Summary: Uihoy recounts the time he acquired the blue feather he usual sports. This shows he's not always the confident, sure footed male he would like everyone to think he is.

Author Note: Definity not lame! I promise you. Question's like these make me think, force me to worldbuilding and I love it. I have an app called Campfire that helps me keep everything in line.

Masterlist

Ao3

Uihoy isn’t the mighty, always sure footed Yautja you all know about. The male has had his fair share of falls and accidents.

How else do you think he lost a finger and a half on his right hand? Not from a hunt. At least not in the way you are all thinking.

As his feather, that’s a fun story to dive into. It’s a recent feather he acquired too. On a solo hunt without either of his mates.

Perched in the high trees of Yautja Prime, Uihoy had returned to his home planet. It was a once in a blue moon situation for him to step upon these grounds again. Not like he left on bad terms. But, his home was with his mates. He held no emotional connection here anymore. Any of his brothers and sisters are spread among the planet and stars. None of them were close to each other. Nothing to kept him tethered here.

The reason the purple Yautja found himself here was for a hunt. Food was low in stock on the ship. For some reason, he was craving Boor that could only be found in three rivers close to his home village.

This leads him back to where he once grew up over seven hundred years ago. Usual for a Yautja to live to that age, even more so. Anything beyond a thousand is where things become unlikely. This is a species of hunters. Death is always high. Which, Uihoy shrugged about. Many of his siblings are gone, living with Cetanu in his hunting grounds. Even both of his parents are gone. Sire perishing to a hunt some hundred years ago. Dam losing her life to childbirth.

At this point, he had found himself perched high in the tallest tree in the area, enjoying the calm jungle. A biome designed, evolved not to let the weak survive.

His eyes fell close while he opened his other senses. The scent of everything that filled the area with life filled his lungs. Uihoy let his upper mandibles pull up, tongue flicking out between lethal teeth.

Nostalgia struck him in the gut.

All the memories of him learning how not to die first before learning the ways of a hunter. They flashed behind his closed eyelids, a reminder of his younger, dumb self. He’s had to master more than usual. It was something he was born filled with. Not like a few of siblings and those of the same year as him.

But in that tree, close to home, was an abode of something else.

A screeching cry jolted him from his thoughts. His eyes snapped open just in time to see a Iot-oci dive bombing him. The size of the bird was terrifying to say in the least. Being around seven and half feet tall himself, it was about little taller than his waist.

Before he knew it, his hand slipped from the slimmed trunk. Uihoy had no time to react. The Iot-oci was coming straight at him, bright colors and all. A male. It flared its wings right before it struck him with short talons to his chest.

Uihoy fell back with a yelp at the sudden shift of weight. His hands freely clawed through the air but found nothing to latch onto. The Iot-oci soared over him and took up into the sky. Probably to make the job was done.

Air rushed past him for a short moment until his back hit a thin branch. Said stick bent under his weight and didn’t catch him. Uihoy fell again. His body weight was shifted so he could twist around and face the incoming ground. One of his- “you fell?” Vic’tao rumbled, voice monotone. His exterior body language read as lax, unconcerned after hearing of his mate’s fall.

A deadpanned look fell over Uihoy’s features, directed at the yellow Yautja standing across the counter from him. “Yes, I fell. Damned thing came out of nowhere,” Uihoy argued for his pride.

Vic’tao chuffed a laugh and tried to stifle it with only working partially. “I’ve heard their wing beats are loud. How could you miss such a sound?” the younger male teased his older mate. Vic’tao has never stepped foot on Yautja Prime in all his years. He only knows of Iot-oci from pictures and videos.

The latter scoffed and pushed off of the counter he once leaned on. His arms were held out at his sides. “I was having a nostalgic moment!” Uihoy defended himself then rest his elbows back on the counter again. “Now, as I was saying-“

He reached out, flailing about for a branch to snatched. A few unlucky swipes later, Uihoy was able to dig his claws into a thick branch. The jolt of weight nearly pulled his arm out of its socket but he snarled and held on. Another screeching cry met his ears. Mighty curses fell from his jaw. Uihoy scrambled back onto the new perch and whipped his head up.

Through the suns piercing rays, Uihoy spotted the blue form of the Iot-oci diving for him once more. Once a few seconds to spare, he leaped to the side, a branch down.

Higher pitched calls scrambled his brain for a moment. He looked to his left only to be greeted with the sight of a large nest filled with five newly hatched Iot-oci. Paya, fuck him sideways! He couldn’t catch a break while back in his own nest grounds.

First thing that came to his mind was to desolate the place as quickly as possible. The Iot-oci will do its damned hardest to slaught Uihoy for being in the same tree as its offspring, let alone the same branch.

Claws tore at his back, knocking forward and back down to the ground. Uihoy cursed out as he slammed into a thicker branch towards the base of the tree. All of the air in his lungs was forcefully shoved, leaving him heaving for nitrogen. His nails dug into the bark two seconds too late. Once more, he fell his way back to the ground.

Face first, Uihoy slammed into the leaf covered jungle. A grunt surpassed his vocal cords. Desperately, he wanted nothing more than to lay there in defeat but the swooshing through the humid air prevented him the luxury. He rolled to the side and used the momentum to get to his feet and face the Iot-oci.

It had landed at the spot he once was and flared it large wings. Uihoy took a step back, it followed with two of its own to keep up. But he wasn’t going to kill it. It’s only protecting its nest from him. Not a worthy kill. It was against the honor code as well.

Carefully, he took mindful steps backwards until he felt a safe enough distance away from the tree. The Iot-oci followed him all the way but he read the way it grew weary of the gap spanning between it and its nest.

This was what Uihoy was wanting.

The Iot-oci will turn away to protect it nest. Males were smaller than females. They were the protector of the nest while the dam left to retrieve food and mark their territory. With the dam nowhere near, the male took back to the skies and head back to its nest. Uihoy breathed a sigh of relief and checked himself over for injuries.

Nothing was broken, bones at least. His skin had been sliced by the short but deadly claws of the Iot-oci. Small enough he could forget about.

As the purple male turned to leave, a flash of blue caught his attention. He gazed at the spot the Iot-oci once stood to find it left behind a feather. A short hum sounded from his vocal cords. Uihoy leaned over and claimed the feather as his now. He tucked it away in his belt for later and begun his trek further in towards one of the rivers for Boor.

“And that’s how I got my blue feather,” Uihoy finished and gave a minute bow to the male before him.

Vic’tao still looked bored then sat up in his high stool chair. His hands came together in a slow slap, mockingly congratulating Uihoy for his story. “Such a wonderful story, old man.”

“Oh, hush, young blood. You know nothing of the dangers. You’re mothership bred compared to a home world bred. You lived life with little danger.” The words sounded harsh, but it was just playful jester between the two of them.

“When the elder can’t even defend himself from a Iot-oci because he was ‘distracted’.” Vic’tao used his fingers to create quotation marks around the last word. One of his upper mandibles was lifted as he stared at his mate across him.

Uihoy groaned and leaned back. The counter used as an anchor point so he doesn’t fall back. “I told you it was nostalgic! I was reminiscing my time in my youth.” He reached across the counter to tap at Uihoy’s hand. “You should remember the time before your bones creak like mine.”

This got a huff from Vic’tao. Said male stood up and walked around the counter to stand next to his mate. As the taller of the two, he wrapped his arms around Uihoy’s torso. Vic’tao nuzzled his head into Uihoy’s cheek. “Mine already do.”

[an0nfr0mth3d3n]

QSMP Zombie AU: Indoor Recess

(For as much work as I put in to make dialogue sound accurate to streamers, it’s gonna be hard for me to do that for everyone, especially some of the eggs. Chayanne here is technically ooc because he wouldn’t be as scared but more protective, but for the sake of this AU I’m gonna make the kids act more like kids in a real zombie apocalypse. So my apologies if some of them seem a little less irony poisoned or brave. Later on I’ll try to make the personalities shine.)

Phil scrolled mindlessly down the page of his unread emails. Bratty parents, board meetings, apologies for burning dinner from his husband, the occasional spam, none of it motivated him enough to actually get any work done.

His eyes drifted lazily to the digital clock mounted on the wall. 3:35 PM. Around 25 minutes more and he could pack up early, maybe go home to some nice warm hard-to-mess-up dinner and some sweet family time. Thank fuck it was Friday, he wasn’t sure if he could stare at one more random complaint without going batshit crazy.

The pounding of running feet in the hallway broke through the silence of the room. Phil groaned and stood up from his chair, getting ready to berate some trouble making kid.

He never got the chance as his door crashed open wide, a breathless Chayanne on the other side.

“Dad. There’s. There’s someone.” Chayanne gasped out in between puffs for air.

Phil walked forward, squatting down to the boy’s height. “Easy mate, take some breaths for fucks sake, you’re gonna fuckin’ pass out in here if you don’t breathe!” Phil laughed at the situation, secretly relieved at the break from his monotonous work.

Chayanne didn’t seem to find it funny, and actually seemed to be…

…genuinely scared?

His laugh petered out as his expression grew more worried. “Chayanne. Is everything okay?”

“Dad there’s a sick man stuck on the playground on the climbing bars and he looks hurt but also really scary and dangerous and I don’t know what to do can you please help please there’s blood and and-“

Firm hands settled on Chayanne’s shoulders, and steely blue eyes filled with seriousness met the teary gaze of the terrified child.

“Show me.”

A shaking hand pointed out the window, and Philza followed it, grabbing the rod that controlled the blinds as well.

Phil scanned the playground, searching for the man that Chayanne had described. The colorful structures were completely absent of movement, and even the climbing bars that Chayanne had mentioned were completely vacant.

No, not completely.

A single, muddied shoe lay sideways on the ground. It was large, too large to have belonged to one of the students, and was covered in mud and….hopefully not blood.

His heart began to beat faster, and he could feel his pulse hammer in his ears. Looking closer at the climbing bars, it was clear that something had happened there. The woodchips were scattered around and upturned, even dirt was shown in some places where the scuff marks got too deep. That also could not have been one of the students, because it was a school rule that kids were not allowed to drag their feet through the woodchips for whatever reason.

Other than that however, the coast seemed to be rather clear-

A bloodied hand slapped against the window.

Phil reared back, clutching his mouth to silence the scream that threatened to tear through his chest. Chayanne wasn’t as cautious though, and a startled yelp came from the child.

The hand twisted around on the smooth glass, dirty fingernails scrabbling on the smooth surface, clambering for purchase on the glass, slowly the ready of the body raised up, the…man must have fallen near the window just out of sight.

Phil lunged for the window, snapping the plastic lock into place and twisting the blinds, immediately darkening the room. He could hear Chayanne whimpering from behind him as he stumbled back.

“Fuck. Shit. What the fuck. Okay. Chayanne run back to Fit and tell him to get you guys into the gymnasium right the fuck now. I’ll get the rest of the teachers here and call the police. It’s gonna be okay, it’s just some…drunk, okay? Okay go go go.”

Chayanne bolted out the door, and Phil reached for the intercom.

//ATTENTION EVERYONE IN THE BUILDING, PLEASE HEAD TO THE GYMNASIUM RIGHT NOW, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY. MR. HALO PLEASE COME TO MY OFFICE, AND BRING YOUR FIREARM, I KNOW YOU FUCKING HAVE ONE. THANK YOU.\\

The scrabbling at the window stopped.

Phil cursed under his breath, lifting the intercom one more time.

//MS. MOUSE AND MR. UNDERSCORE PLEASE LOCK UP THE BUILDING AS FAST AS YOU CAN AND PUT THE BOOTS IN.\\

Phil clicked off the intercom, and reached for the landline, eyes glued to the blinded window. There was a dark silhouette blocking out the little light from the cloud obscured sun, but it was moving away from the window, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

The landline rang in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. Four times. Five-

“Heyyy you’ve reached the Quesadilla Island Police Department, this is Sheriff Foolish speakin’, guess we’re busy so too bad for you I guess. Better luck next time bucko!”

Phil cursed again, running a hand through his hair, sweat starting to form under his striped hat. This didn’t leave them with much options but to wait it out and hope the man sobered up….if that was really all there was to it. He had no idea what drugs or substances that man was on, but it was best to be safe than sorry, and something…didn’t feel right here.

He could hear the heavy footsteps of Mr. Halo approaching as he snuck a look at the blinds again, the dim light now unmarred by any mysterious figure behind them.

Call it intuition, instinct, or just a hunch, but Philza Minecraft had a sneaking suspicion that this strange man wouldn’t be the end of his troubles today…

[will-pilled]

Montague

Possibly triggering stuff? Self harm, CA, SA.

Montague personality (summary, due to limited information):

Montague is controlling, as is evident. He comes off as very calm and collected, and seems like a rather calculating and "pulling the strings" sort of man. Can be very aggressive. Headcanons:

He/him cis man - Unlabled but prefers masculine leaning/androgynous individuals. (British cig) It's more aesthetics he's attracted to.

He is not a huge animal person, but Oscar was okay when he was around I guess..

Fashionista and artist, designs his outfits.

Fave colors are blue, white, black, blue-gray, and silver.

Knows a lot about rocks and crystals, keeps it to himself though because he doesn't want to look dorky.

He is very French, and swears in French often as well as muttering to himself and breaking into French speaking when flustered or overwhelmed.

Loves sweet and salty deserts as well as very savory food.

Really likes knives. They're neat.

He isn't a good man. He isn't even an anti hero. But he is very easy to feel bad for.

Not a fan of children, not at all.

Kind of a sarcastic ass hole. Not kind of, a huge one. Dry humor and sarcasm. *Blank stare* "Are you stupid?"

Skin care and hygiene freak, takes pride in how he looks.

The Society was the closest he had to friends, so when they all ditched each other he became bitter as FUCK.

He does want a romantic relationship BUT he also terrified of being close to someone. He doesn't want to risk someone being in control of him or being rejected or left. he has a VERY intense "leave people before they can leave me" mentality, but isn't really aware of it.

Borderline Personality Disorder - Is extremely convinced there is nothing wrong with him which leads him to be very "anti recovery," and makes him indulge a lot in unhealthy habits and actions. Has some narcissistic traits but not enough to have Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

He *appears* calm and collected, but the moment he is sure he is alone he may fall into a hole-in-wall-punching fit of rage. Him breaking things is not uncommon. He takes his anger out on objects the most. He wants to fill the hole in his heart with objects and power. He chases the temporary highs of stealing, the chase, being in control of someone, and even perhaps drugs if he is bored enough. He only smokes in front of others, as he avoids doing most others in front of people due to more noticeable effects. He feels rather empty.

Intense need for control over himself and others, and in turn hates losing his shit. He HATES when things don't go his way for this reason as well, and his stealing also goes into this as he wants to control items and where they are.

A bit of a stalker, but not too bad. Stalking socials is his biggest thing.

(Potentially triggering? Self harm.) He did the eye scar to himself. No cool backstory or funny accidents. He did it to himself to look the way HE wanted to look. To control how he looks and what happens to his body. He never talks about how he got it, but loves it. Likely has other scars as well in intricate patterns and pictures. Doesn't really do it anymore because he honestly got bored of it. Not because he got better in any sense of the phrase.

(!CA, SA!)

Montague grew up with a very emotionally abusive and controlling father (Montague is sadly repeating the cycle it seems). He wasn't hit much by his dad, but was often picked on by peers for his queerness and being "girly." which caused his aggressiveness, though since he can do "whatever he wants" he is more open about it now. Not really "price flags everywhere" kind of open (though ngl I could see Meowscles being like that fucking bi and transgender ass cat) but more of a "clear closet"/"Is he... Y'know?" kinda open. He doesn't care for either parent much, they were both distant and let money raise him so he doesn't have much of an attachment to either of them. He has no feelings for them and when he came to the island he felt little to no grief at losing his old life other than his money and power.

He was assaulted when he was a young adult for a period of time by an employer, who had a great deal of influence and control. This is also where Montague's "I want influence and power" mindset comes from as well, so he will NEVER be at someone else's mercy again. He feels anger over it. He is no "perfect victim."

[kadextra]

how do we think this arc of q!bad will develop? I have some thoughts

The Federation HAS to know by now that their worker was kidnapped. and if they don’t know it’s Bad’s fault already, they’ll probably figure it out very soon because they have eyes everywhere. harming a federation representative is one of the major rule violations, so. what are they gonna do as their response?

Will we get confirmation of the special guest theory if they literally don’t do anything against him again, just like his previous violations? simply let him do as he pleases? or they could surprise me and deal out some severe punishment, that would be fun. lock him up somewhere. though maybe they’ll actually encourage his destructive behavior instead, because they wanna see this guy go more insane for some reason

And what is q!Bad’s goal? obviously to get the kids back yeah. but he says it’s all going all according to plan, what exactly is the plan…? he’s torturing that worker for information but hasn’t gotten very solid leads yet- it honestly seems to me like he’s using it more as a twisted stress release based on what he said to q!Fit. Then he continues to put himself in the soul vulture cage over and over. Is he creating soulsteal potions? planning to go full war mode on the Federation with them? using them on the worker?

Every day, people are getting more and more concerned about him and recognize that he needs help, but he keeps deflecting them with the “oh, I’m just fine!” excuse. it’s going to get to the point where he can’t brush the attention off- because he can’t even see in color anymore, he doesn’t realize there’s blood on him and that it + his eye is turning terrifying soul blue like some sort of corruption. something is seriously wrong. what kind of consequences of his actions is this? what is happening to him???

I literally don’t know we’re fully in the dark and it makes me sooooo curious. there is many possibilities for this lore to be taken and all are incredibly interesting

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ignore this if you want but please write a ryan gosling!Ken x Shy!human!Reader? Like I can’t stop thinking about Ken being human and a dad of a infant son who’s a mommy boy and Ken brings them to Barbie land, just hardcore fluff? Like everyone is happy to see the reader again but also happy to see a baby. So cute shy reader brings her infant son to girls night. 💖💖💖💖💖💖

"You think they'll like him?"

"They'll love him, [y/n]. I'm sure of it." Ken popped his head out of the camper van's window, smiling as he saw you sitting outside on the lawn chair.

You weren't the only people making a trip back to Barbieland, however, as you were currently cradling your pride and joy:

It was your infant son, who had the same hair color as you, and the same bright blue eyes as his father.

Yes, the baby was also Ken's.

After he decided to become human with your help (and a whole lot of patience), he was finally at a place where he felt genuinely happy with his life and purpose:

He started working for Mattel to advocate for the Ken dolls and skyrocket their sales, got married to you--his owner who finalized his decision to leave all his dollness behind, and settled down in a house that you could both call your own.

Despite all of these great happenings, however, he did feel like something else was missing.

Something that he desperately wanted to experience as a man.

And no, it had nothing to do with horse or beach or patriarchy.

It was fatherhood.

During his second time in the Real World, he's seen families bonding with their kids in movies, books, and even just walking down the street.

He was a bit embarrassed about obsessing over horses and ignoring the beauty of humanity happening all around him back then.

But now? He got to truly appreciate it.

While Ken didn't explicitly tell you that he wanted to know what it's like to raise a family, you could just tell from his lingering stares and smiles that he would give anything to experience that.

So you had some conversations about it, and you were absolutely happy to have a kid with him.

Yet after coming home from the clinic with the confirmation that you were pregnant, he became utterly terrified, his mind cluttered with the "what-ifs"?

He knew that he messed up a lot as Barbie's handcrafted boyfriend, and even as a human...that guilt followed him back to the Real World. He may have left behind the pastels and plastics, but these overwhelming emotions stuck to him like super glue.

He's just so, so afraid of screwing up again. Or that his expectations of fatherhood will fall short and the kid will hate him if they knew what he-

But you reassured Ken he was going to be a great father; him worrying about raising them right before they're even born just shows it.

Those nerves finally went away the moment he got to hold his son in the delivery room, sobbing after he realized he helped create this beautiful life with you.

Something that he, a dumb blond plastic doll who only knew how to do beach, never thought he'd get to experience.

Like Barbie, he finally got to be the creator...rather than the created.

Now he couldn't wait to revisit Barbieland with you and introduce his child to everyone there.

You've taken a trip there a few times before, so you were well aware of the long rollerblade-snowmobile-camper van-tandem bike-rocketship-speedboat-convertible journey ahead.

This time however, you were reasonably nervous, given you now had one extra fragile passenger to take care of.

Luckily, it's been a rather smooth trip so far, and your son didn't make a single fuss.

Not in the freezing cold during your snowmobile ride...and not even when a mama bear was currently emerging from the surrounding woods, approaching you both. You still held him closely, staying calm and cool, knowing these animals wouldn't hurt you.

Ken, on the other hand, damn near jumped out the window to drive the scary beast away--his newly-acquired dad instincts kicking into maximum overdrive.

But you took notice and hushed him, before turning back to the bear who was now sniffing you and your son with curiosity. You got to pet her on the head, and eventually she huffed and left you two alone.

"See?" You glanced back at your husband, amused that his torso was now halfway out the window. "Seriously, Ken? There's a door y'know."

"W-Well...had to make sure my family is safe! But I see you got it under control...g-good job, sweetie!" He forced a smile, although he was clearly struggling.

"....are you stuck?"

"......maybe."

'Great...now I'm dealing with two children.' Shaking your head, you gently set your baby in the carrier, before going to help Ken.

Yeah, this trip was going to be longer than you thought.

And not because of the kid.

................

"Barbies! Kens! Allan! We're back!"

"Oh my god!"

"Everybody STOP what you're doing!! It's [y/n] and Ken!!"

"Hi [y/n]!!"

"Hi Ken!!"

"Welcome back guys!!"

"Ken, dude!!!"

"[Y/n]! How you've been-??!"

"Guys, guys..at least let us get out first." After stepping out of the car, you looked around at the dolls surrounding you and Ken, seeing that Barbieland had gone through some changes since the last time you've seen it.

Nevertheless, it still felt warm and welcoming. Like your second home at this point.

With a bashful smile, you cradled your son closely to your chest, sighing as you wondered how you'll break the news to them. You were never one to make huge announcements...especially as everydoll here now had their eyes on you.

Weird Barbie--now in a uniform fitting for the garbage workers here--was quick to notice the bundle of blue you were holding, tilting her head. "What's that you got there, hun? A gift for us?"

"O-Oh! This is...um-"

"Oh it's not just any gift you can buy, Weird Barbie," Ken interjected, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around you, smiling from ear-to-ear. "We have brought to you the gift...of life!!"

There was a silence so loud, you could almost hear crickets chirping from the other world.

"...he means we had a baby boy." You bluntly stated, uncovering some of the blanket so they could see your child.

At first there were gasps, before there were cheers and smiles all around as they came closer to congratulate you both.

The Barbies cooed at how adorable your son looked, while Midge asked you if he just "popped" out of your belly like her Real World counterpart (to which you said no, of course).

Meanwhile, Ken struck up a conversation with the other Kens, who had their own praise to give and told him about all the cool jobs and other opportunities they've gotten since he left.

Of course, though, he was the first among them to be a dad besides Sugar Daddy Ken.

"But enough about us, and more about your son..." Tourist Ken spoke up, leaning forward. "Tell me, is he shaping up to be a "beach boy" like his dad?"

"Nope. He's...definitely a momma's boy." With a warm smile, Ken looked to you, seeing how his son clung to you while looking mesmerized by all the colorful and sparkly things in the cul-de-sac. "But he has my eyes and...that's enough for me."

A small chorus of "awh's" were heard, but before all the guys could start spouting about the sports they wanted to teach your son, he noticed you approaching them.

He stood right up, his focus on you. "Yes, my love?"

"Oh! So..I was wondering..uh--girls, c'mon." You huffed to the giggling Barbies behind you, shooing them away. Then you turned back to your husband. "Anyways, they um...invited me to girls' night tonight. And they're hoping our little guy can come along, too!"

"........."

"It'll just be for a few hours, I-I promise." You nervously added, suddenly remembering how he felt about that event. "I won't be-"

"I don't mind if you two go."

You blinked. "...you don't?"

"Nah, the Kens said they're having their own boys' night on the beach...which so-happens to be tonight as well!" His grin returned. "You have fun with the ladies. You'll know where I'll be."

Those words brought a huge smile to your own face, and you stepped forward to peck him on the lips. "Thanks, sweetheart. You boys have fun.." Your gaze flickered to the male dolls. "Try not to "beach-off" my husband while I'm gone."

After that, you turned and walked back to the Barbies, while Ken stared at the other Kens, noticing their bewildered expressions.

"What?"

"Th-That was an actual kiss."

"I've never seen one like that before!"

"H-How did you do that???"

"...it took practice, and don't forget..I'm human now, too." He chuckled, feeling a bit smug. "Humans kiss very differently."