#them: DOC ROCKS ARE FALLING

[docholligay]

BISCUIT BASIN IN YELLOWSTONE JUST EXPLODED I'M SO MAD I WAS NOT THERE.

[revelboo]

Could I suggest a synth!energon Ratchet? 👉👈

Oh, he’d be worse than Megs on his space crack and you’ve definitely got to keep him busy so he doesn’t try to pick a fight with Megs.

18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Synth!energon Ratchet Scenario

TFP Ratchet x Reader

• “I’ll rip his spark out with my bare servos.” Oh, absolutely not. Did he seriously just infuse himself with the last batch of synthetic energon he was testing? “Do what Optimus is too soft to do,” he adds and he seems to have forgotten all about you as he drops the infuser to shatter far below and starts toward the door to the lab. Is he high? Because Megatron is going to stomp him flat. Running along the catwalk, his optics flick to you and that green glow is as unsettling as his slow grin when he stops. “Well, hello.”

• Momentarily distracted by the sight of you, he grabs onto the railing for the catwalk, engine revving as you rake a hand through your hair. “How about you come lay down with me?” You ask, offering him a smile. And there’s a thought. The catwalk screams and bends as he hauls himself up, mass shifting and stalking after you as you stumble and back away. “You know, sleep it off?” Sleep? He’s not interested in recharging. Catching you by a wrist and tugging you into him, his mouth crashes down on yours.

• Well, you’d succeeded in distracting him from his suicide mission to confront Megatron. Glossa stealing inside your mouth as his free hand finds your butt and squeezes. And he’s growling as he rocks his hips against you, mouth stroking over yours. Your annoyance with him shifting to heat at the familiar feel of his body against yours. “Primus, I need you,” he growls against the corner of your mouth and you hear your shirt tear in his servos. Know you need to try and get him to his habsuite, his lab, anywhere but the common area catwalk, but as he goes to his knees and drags you down with him, that’s not happening.

• “Ratchet! Not here!” All those layers separating him from what he needs and he’s struggling to unwrap you despite your efforts to stop him, his spike aching where it’s trapped behind his plating, pulsing and hard. Finally gets you stripped, lays you down and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. “Doc, don’t you dare!” Laughing as his head ducks, his mouth slides against you to make you arch. No longer trying squirm away as you moan.

• Torn between the urge to smack some sense into him and to just enjoy the feel of his mouth on you, your head falls back and you cover your own mouth with a hand as his glossa slides against you and then tunnels inside you. Hearing him growling against you when you squirm and those green optics flick up and narrow. And he presses a stinging bite against the inside of your thigh. “Don’t stop, please.” Hands on his helm to urge him back to you because you’re so close.

• “Let them hear you, sweetspark,” he growls, shifting over you. Wants you to be loud. Wake up everyone else. Freeing his spike, he flips you onto your belly and hooks an arm under you to get your hips up. And he feels almost frantic, spark thrumming and vorns younger as he lines up his spike and sinks into you. “Let them all know.” That you’re his. Hips snapping against you, his servos grip you to yank you back to meet his urgent thrusts. Sliding a hand up your spine to push your shoulders down and there it is. That angle that feels so good whenever he moves inside you. And you’re still trying to muffle your sounds, but you’re not succeeding anymore. Feeling you grip his spike as he pounds into you, the wet sound of you taking him stringing him tight. Then you’re crying out his name, milking his spike as he manages a handful more urgent thrusts and buries himself deep to release. And he wants more, groaning against your shoulder as he curls himself over you, hips rocking. Can do this all night.

[kxsagi]

𝟎𝟑. 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨’ 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞

[twitch: chokiigan – 90.2k viewers] 

🎮 live now: “saint ego fumbled the bag (but maybe not?)” 

the stream opens to low-fi synth and the fuzzy outline of nagi, slouched in his gamer chair with half-lidded eyes and a pink strawberry milk box in hand. his mic’s a little too good, every sip sounds like a war crime. after a long, meditative pause, he sighs. 

"yeah, so... saint ego just did a full 360 nosedive straight into the dirt. absolute crashout. capital C. it’s like if radiohead and WWE had a baby and then left it unsupervised in a glass shop." 

he scratches his head, leans closer to the mic. 

“for those of you somehow still under a rock... their drummer livestreamed the lead singer and guitarist beefing like it was wrestlemania 2005. the internet exploded. their fans started choosing sides like it’s the hunger games. team isagi. team kaiser. meanwhile, shidou’s just tweeting thirst traps with saxophones like nothing happened. peak chaos. ten out of ten." 

the chat is already going feral. 

@egomaniac420: team kaiser 4l 🔥 

@isagibabe: isagi was right but also kaiser was hotter 

@shidouszn: nah shidou won by not even showing up lmaooo 

@broke4bachira: ngl this drama gave me life 

@yawnking69: justice 4 rin the bassist 😔 

nagi smirks. 

“but then... plot twist. they pulled a wild card. this just dropped on saint ego’s account earlier this morning when i was still sleeping." 

he pulls up the tweet on screen, enlarging it. 

"okay, hold on. that’s actually clean. like… suspiciously clean. this isn’t damage control. this is chess." 

he leans back dramatically. 

"this tweet has ‘PR intern who’s too hot for this job and too good at it' energy. like… this ain’t from the band. this is from someone with a spreadsheet, a crisis strategy, and serotonin levels i can only dream of." 

@k4iserkissedme: not the intern slaying 

@nagiinurheart: pr intern is the main character now idc 

@egogate_2025: y’all i heard they hired a marketing girl 👀 

@kaiserwifeyy: leak the doc i need drama in 4k 

@ego_goblin: she’s controlling the narrative and my heart tbh 

nagi pauses. finishes the last sip of his drink like it’s a toast. 

"so yeah. from 'crashout' to calculated comeback. if this doc hits the way i think it will, we might be watching the messiest band of 2025 rebrand themselves into legends. or at least into a netflix mini-series. either way, i’m watching." 

he shrugs. 

"back to minecraft. i’m emotionally invested, but i still have zombies to slay." 

the main studio room is becoming comfortable, the smell of faintly old vinyl and burnt dust from an overworked amp growing familiar. it’s not glamorous at the moment – a few burnt out studio spotlight lamps that need to be replaced, wires snaking across the floor like tripping hazards, and someone’s half-eaten convenience store onigiri is still sitting on top of a speaker. it’s the kind of space where people either make something honest or fall apart trying. 

karasu straddles a chair backwards, arms hanging loose over the backrest like he’s hosting an interrogation he doesn’t really want to be at. hiori stands a few feet away, fiddling with an old camcorder he found in some storage closet. his fingers move carefully, methodically, as if the act of setting things up is sacred. 

“you sure you wanna start it like this?” karasu asks, eyeing you from under his lashes. “no glam. no intro. just raw footage and a band that got publicly bodied by a livestream?” 

you shrug. you’re sitting on the floor, back to the wall, phone face-down beside you. nagi’s stream is still trending, clips already circulating. you're trying not to look at them. 

“if it feels too clean, it won’t land,” you say. “i want people to believe it before they judge it.” 

karasu hums, low and skeptical. “messy sells.” 

“i’m not trying to sell anything,” you say. “just... show them the whole story. let them decide.” 

the camcorder beeps softly. hiori shifts behind it, and the small red light clicks on – recording. he doesn’t announce it. he just lets the tape run. 

karasu raises an eyebrow and grins. “alright then. day one. operation: fix the band that broke itself.” 

“not fix,” you say, brushing hair out of your face. “just explain. or... try to.” 

karasu leans forward, elbows on the backrest. “you’re more optimistic than i thought. should’ve gone into politics.” 

“god, no.” 

that gets a quiet snort out of hiori. he stays behind the lens, zooming in slightly, catching the way your mouth curves, not quite a smile. you didn’t plan to be on camera, but here it is: the grainy warmth of tape rolling, the echo of your voice bouncing off cheap drywall. 

hiori murmurs, mostly to himself, “it already feels like a funeral tape.” 

karasu glances sideways at him, then back at you. “nah. more like the before part of a comeback montage.” 

the three of you sit in the quiet that follows. it’s not heavy. just full of things unsaid, of things waiting to be said. you glance at the lens. 

“you can cut this part out, right?” 

hiori doesn’t answer right away. then: “sure.” 

but he doesn’t stop recording. 

two days later, you’re shoulder to shoulder with hiori in the same room, a blanket thrown over both your laps like a shield against the outside world. the space is cluttered – empty cans on the windowsill, scribbled notes taped to the walls, the faint hum of the AC vent in the ceiling corner. hiori hits play, and the first episode starts rolling without fanfare, just a flicker of digital static and the soft hiss of camcorder audio. 

the opening shot is a mess of tangled black cables on the floor, half-buried under dust and forgotten picks. the camera lingers a second longer than expected, like it’s trying to find meaning in the chaos. then it cuts to a half-empty water bottle lying on its side, light refracting through the plastic and painting warped shapes on the concrete. a page of lyrics appears next – creased, smudged, and torn down the middle, taped back together with whatever someone had on hand. none of it is staged. none of it is beautiful. but it feels honest. 

you shift in your seat as the screen transitions to a wide shot of a beaten-up guitar case slouched against a wall, stickers peeling off like old skin. the name saint ego is barely visible, almost ashamed to still be clinging on. everything looks slightly too warm, the colors bleeding at the edges from the camera filter of the old camcorder. hiori had told you earlier he wanted it to feel like a found memory, like something pulled from the bottom of a drawer, warped by time and carelessness. 

the film grain is subtle but deliberate. little dust motes, faint hairline scratches, moments of flickering light that dance across the footage like ghosts. hiori watches all of it in silence, his face unreadable, hands hovering over the keyboard, but not touching anything. you can feel how much of himself he’s poured into it. not just editing. curating. shaping. breathing life into the fragments of a band most people think already flatlined. 

there’s no music yet. just ambient room tone – a distant cough, the buzz of an amp left on, the soft creak of someone shifting out of frame. it’s not dramatic. it’s not trying to be. it just is. 

he pauses on a frame without warning – a close-up of someone’s hand adjusting a mic stand, fingers wrapped in silver rings. the moment feels like a secret. a heartbeat caught in high definition. hiori glances at you, eyes dark behind his glasses. 

“too slow?” he asks quietly. 

you shake your head. “no. it’s perfect.” 

he nods, barely. then he presses play again. 

more footage filters in, stitched between the quiet static of the intro like memories caught by accident. the next clip finds isagi in the far corner of the studio, curled in on himself like he’s trying to disappear into the floor. his hood’s up as usual, shadows cloaking half his face, and earpods plugged in tight. the camera zooms slowly, carefully, like it doesn’t want to break whatever spell he’s under. 

his hand moves across a notebook in quick bursts, sharp and jagged, like the lyrics are coming faster than he can catch them. he doesn’t look up. doesn’t even blink. under the ambient hum, you can barely make out a voice, his voice, mumbling a melody under his breath so raw that it’s almost ghostly: i got goosebumps all over me… when you’re around… it’s hard for me to breathe. 

then it cuts to karasu hunched over his laptop, headphones crooked on one ear, eyes focused and sharp. he’s layering beats with that obsessive rhythm only he understands, muttering under his breath like the sounds might escape if he doesn’t trap them fast enough. the camera doesn’t get too close (probably out of fear), but it catches the way his fingers twitch when he’s deep in it, like he’s playing the drums and keyboard at once. the peace doesn’t last. 

off-screen, kaiser suddenly appears and tries to hijack the laptop mid-loop. karasu doesn’t even flinch. he just grabs the nearest broom and starts swinging like he’s defending sacred ground as an asiam mom. kaiser yells something unintelligible and sprints out of frame, cackling, the broom narrowly missing his head. the camera shakes with laughter. 

the next shot is bachira, sweaty and euphoric behind his drum kit, sticks twirling between his fingers like extensions of his hands. he’s mid-recording, lost in it, hair stuck to his forehead, mouth open in something between a grin and a snarl. the snare cracks like thunder, and just before the take ends, he flips both sticks, catches one, and chucks the other directly at the camera. it clatters off the lens. you hear a muffled gasp, then hiori screaming “bachira–!” before the audio cuts. 

shidou’s section is chaos wrapped in silk. he’s surrounded by glowing synths and tangled wires, body bouncing in time with a loop that sounds like a video game dying in slow motion. his eyes are too bright. his grin is too wide. he leans into the mic and says, “what if i added saxophone… for drama.” no one answers. no one stops him. the footage cuts just as he slams a key and a sax note shrieks into the mix like a demon being exorcised. 

then there’s rin. his shot is brief, but sharp, like a breath of cold air in the middle of a storm. he’s posted up against a wall near the studio entrance, sipping from a canned monster, watching the rest of the chaos through heavy-lidded eyes. airpods in, hoodie unzipped, the camera barely catches him mouthing along to something he’s listening to. he notices the camera eventually. doesn’t smile. just flips it off with two fingers, totally deadpan, then goes right back to playing on his bass. it’s so fast you’d miss it if you blinked. 

and finally, sae. he’s sitting at the edge of the madness with a fresh americano in hand, legs spread, watching everything unfold like it’s a soap opera and he’s been held hostage by choice. his sunglasses are still on, despite being indoors. someone behind the camera asks him something, probably about scheduling or sponsorships or whether the band has legally declared war on itself. sae takes a slow sip, deadpan, then mutters, “if one more of them calls me ‘dad,’ i’m quitting.” the clip ends there. perfectly timed. painfully relatable. 

the footage shifts – new lighting, golden and loose, like the camera’s exhaling. it’s their day off. no mics. no deadlines. just slow time in the mansion that barely contains them. 

in the kitchen, bachira flips pancakes while humming off-key and dancing in mismatched socks. “this batch is soul food,” he declares, “because i made it with my whole chest.” 

kaiser leans over the counter, sneaking chocolate chips from the bowl. “your chest tastes like baking soda,” he mutters. bachira throws a pancake at him. 

meanwhile, isagi’s dragging the giant beanbag into the middle of the living room like it’s a mission. “this is now the snack pit,” he announces, dumping chips and a two-liter soda in the center like tribute. “entry fee is a fun fact about yourself.” he climbs in with a dramatic flop and opens a bag of gummies with his teeth. 

shidou immediately dives in beside him. “i once ate raw squid on a dare and liked it,” he offers. 

isagi holds up a gummy like a mic. “weird, but valid.” 

outside, karasu lounges in a cutoff tank by the pool with his laptop, pretending he’s not mixing. 

“you’re literally muttering to yourself and dragging loops, bro,” you call from inside. “you’re not slick.” 

karasu doesn’t even look up. “this is my relaxation face,” he says flatly. 

sae sits under the umbrella with an americano and a crossword, peacefully tuned out until shidou cannonballs into the deep end, splashing half the patio. “you are so lucky this isn’t hot coffee,” sae says without moving, but he’s caught glancing down at his flip flops as if the idea of using them as discipline on a 22-year-old was tempting. 

rin’s here too, tragically. the camera finds him on the second-floor landing, crouched behind the railing with a book and a box of seaweed snacks like some kind of feral neighborhood cryptid. he’s wearing his noise-canceling airpods again, a shirt that says “no talk, only peace,” and glaring down at the chaos below like he’s the upstairs landlord. someone off-screen yells, “rin, come vibe!” rin shouts back: “i’d rather eat shit!” 

later, they’re crowded around the dining table playing a board game none of them fully understands. 

“bachira, i swear to the heavens, if you add another fake card to your hand…” karasu threatens, hand hovering near the edge of the table. 

“i’m not cheating!” bachira laughs. “i’m creatively strategizing.” 

isagi’s crying from laughter, face red, trying to read the rulebook aloud, but tripping over the text. “you literally have five ‘get out of jail free’ cards,” he wheezes. “it’s monopoly, not god mode.” 

sae sighs. “juvenile energy,” he says, but this time there’s a faint smile. 

you’re caught in frame from the hallway, holding a mug and shaking your head as you watch them spiral. hiori zooms in just enough to catch your grin and to hold on to the moment. 

the whole sequence breathes. it’s messy. it’s loud. it’s warm. the kind of footage that feels like home, like friendship that’s survived too many late-night arguments and still circles back to board games and beanbags and pancakes on off-days. the band isn’t saint ego here, they’re just the boys. 

but then a fight starts over something stupid. it always does. 

someone left the studio fridge open again. kaiser’s protein shake leaked everywhere. isagi’s the first person he sees when he walks in, towel slung around his neck, earpods in, humming the same hook he’s been looping all week. kaiser’s jaw clenches. 

“you seriously can’t close a fridge?” 

isagi pulls one earbud out. “you think i touched your weird milk sludge?” 

“it’s called a shake. you’d know if you actually worked out instead of pacing around like a starving poet.” 

isagi stands. “you wanna talk about working out? your ego lifts more than you do.” 

the air shifts. rin, lying on the floor with a guitar in his lap, doesn’t even blink. he just exhales through his nose and flips a page in his notebook. 

kaiser steps closer. “say that again.” 

“what, ‘ego’? or ‘starving poet’? maybe ‘deadweight in eyeliner’?” isagi says, mocking now, but the hurt’s under his tone. 

kaiser’s smirk disappears. “you’re still pissed about the livestream? seriously? grow up. people saw the truth. not my fault you cracked.” 

“you threw me under the bus in front of the entire fandom,” isagi says, voice low now. “and then acted like it was my mess to fix.” 

you walk in mid-sentence, sensing the tension like static in the air. kaiser’s jaw is tight, isagi’s fists are clenched, and the air is seconds from breaking. 

“hey,” you say firmly, stepping between them, one hand out. “whatever this is? it’s not worth it. not here.” 

kaiser backs off first, scoffing, turning his shoulder. “whatever.” 

isagi lingers for half a second longer before dragging in a breath and walking out of the room. 

later, the camcorder catches kaiser in the upstairs bathroom, door cracked just slightly. he’s pacing, wired from the argument. he looks in the mirror like he’s trying to see something different in his own reflection. fingers run through his hair, then tug. 

then the punch lands – loud, fast, sharp. the marble sink rattles. 

“he always acts like he’s better than me…” he mutters, voice cracking more than he means it to. he doesn’t know hiori’s still rolling behind the camcorder, tucked out of view in the hallway. 

across the house, isagi slams his bedroom door. the camera cuts to him seated at the mic, trying to record vocal takes. again. again. and again. his voice is strained now, not raw in a good way, but like he’s using the hook to scream something he can’t say. 

he stops mid-chorus. throws the headphones across the room. they bounce off the wall. his footsteps are heavy as he storms out. you find him outside, under the deck light, hands on his hips like he’s trying to hold himself together. 

“i shouldn’t have to apologize to him,” he says before you even speak. 

“maybe,” you say gently, “but you always try to control everything. maybe kaiser’s not the only one with an ego problem.” 

he huffs a bitter laugh, looking off toward the trees. 

“this isn’t about blame,” you add, softer now. “this is about the fact that this band doesn’t work without both of you. and if you let your pride get in the way, if you keep picking at each other like this, you’re gonna destroy something that actually matters.” 

isagi doesn’t answer right away. the wind moves through the branches above you, rustling just enough to fill the silence. 

“i just… i don’t know how to not fight with him,” he admits finally, voice quieter now. “we’re wired like this.” 

“then rewire it,” you say. “before there’s nothing left to fix.” 

he nods once, jaw tight, and you can tell he’s turning it over in his head. maybe not ready to act on it yet. but listening. 

the camera lingers on him, half-lit by the porch light. not angry anymore. just tired. 

and under all that, still trying. 

the studio lights are dimmed to a warm hush, just the glow of the laptop screen casting soft shadows across your face as you finish previewing the first episode. your finger hovers above the “publish” button like it might bite. hiori’s next to you, slouched in the rolling chair, silently peeling the label off his water bottle. 

“you okay?” he asks, barely above a whisper. 

you nod, but it’s the kind of nod that feels more like bracing for impact. your stomach’s doing that thing again, tight and traitorous. 

“it’s raw,” you murmur. “too raw, maybe.” 

“that’s why it’s good,” hiori says, eyes still on the screen. “you made something real.” 

you inhale, hold it, exhale. then you click publish. 

it’s out. episode one is live. no turning back. 

hiori leans back in his chair and grins, slow and sleepy. “guess we’re public now.” 

the hallway’s quiet later that night, everyone tucked into corners of the studio or passed out for the night. you find kaiser on the rooftop, arms draped over the railing, cigarette burning down slow between two fingers. he doesn’t look back when you step out, but you know he hears you. 

“you know those’ll kill you,” you say gently. 

“yeah,” he mutters. “i’m not an addict, but add it to the list.” 

the air is cooler out here, the kind that wraps around your skin and makes silence feel deeper. you lean next to him, not too close. not yet. 

“the episode’s out,” you say after a beat. 

he flicks ash into the night. “i saw.” 

“... you okay?” 

he gives you a crooked smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “define 'okay.'” 

you don’t push. instead, you just let it hang there, between you and the dark. after a while, he speaks again. softer this time. 

“i hate that he gets to me,” he admits. “isagi. he… digs under my skin and lives there.” 

“because you care what he thinks,” you say, watching him. “and that scares you.” 

kaiser turns to you at that. not defensive. not angry. just looking. really looking. 

“you always do that,” he says. “show up when i don’t ask.” 

you raise a brow. “i can stop.” 

“no,” he says, too fast. then quieter, “don’t.” 

there’s a beat of silence, stretched thin. he watches you, eyes sharper now, like he’s working something out in his head. then he pushes off the railing and circles slowly to your side, not close enough to touch, but closer than before. 

“you know,” he says, voice low, “you have this habit of showing up exactly when i’m about to spiral. like clockwork.” 

you give a small smile. “maybe you’re just predictable.” 

he huffs a laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. his gaze drops to your mouth for half a second too long. his jaw tenses. 

“if i did something reckless right now,” he murmurs, “would you stop me?” 

your lips part, but before you can speak, the rooftop door creaks open behind you. someone else steps out. 

kaiser’s jaw tightens. his eyes flick over your shoulder. 

“of course,” he mutters. “perfect timing.” 

masterlist | ch. 02 | ch. 04

taglist (closed): @nensi @ro4love @avaxoxo13 @levisgoonerr @jnkosstuff @simpingmyassoff @sunsettsguitar @trinkets-of-time @cinneorolls @silverwings920 @mymeloreo @satorella @gkattdoesstuff @lovingmayday @pixelpancakes @vverie @nicfics @nevvynev @astro-3000 @mihyas-dieehefrau @i-eve-i @ohagiyoo @aadahyax @yumerinns @rie-cecooker @neeeooon @laylaandsstuff @irethepotato @byzantiumhollow @luvsymai @blu3-l0v3r @kiritokunuwu @anaxugoras @yxnnu @academiq @jaeyuuns @x3nafix @sukunaspillow @sasukevrz @anyaslittlepeanut @yunsspace @gurehai @chiieni @6riix @miiyabi @2ukika @ventivente @heartsforfeitan @kai-wavesii-blog @iqxatlantic

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[acotarxreader]

Other Worlds

Azriel x reader

Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.

Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of cuts from a fall, my silly wordplay

A/N: I loved writing this, it really had me in my silly sense of humor (at one point Azriel is jealous because he thinks Xanax is a person) and just like also so happy to have written my first request! I hope you like it Anon and tolerate my silliness.

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

“Do you think she’s dead?”

“Hard to say, you fall that height and would expect it” Nesta gently rocked the body back and forth with the sole of her shoe and you groaned.

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t practice without Amren Nesta” Feyre bit out.

“And how was I supposed to know that a human would fall out of the sky? And besides, I did catch her before she hit the ground” Feyre gave a huff to her sister’s bored tone. 

“But not before all the trees Nesta”

“Details, details”

“Rhys is gonna kill you, we have to move her before he finds out” Feyre got level with your marbling body, sticks and leaves sticking out of your hair from your fall through the canopy above. Nesta folded her arms across her chest in protest as Feyre rolled you onto your back, a deep whimper escaping your throat.

“Well she’s not dead”

“For now” Nesta raised an amused eyebrow before rolling her eyes and squatting to lift your feet as Feyre caught your shoulders with her own disapproving look. 

“Her clothes are so odd, is it continent fashion?”

“Hard to say, the material on her legs is so…dense?” Nesta replied, a thumb rolling over the cuff of your jeans, your Doc Marten burying into her sternum.

The two sisters carried your weak body through the hillside towards the cabin they had retreated to for a break from the Illyrians. They reached the humble home after a small uphill climb in the Winter air and gently placed you down on the couch again. The two stood then at the foot of the couch, unsure of what to do next with their new house guest, a thud from outside followed by a swear interrupting their thoughts. 

“Shit it's Azriel with the food supplies you forgot”

“You forgot” Feyre returned

“Whatever, here help me cover her” The two sisters sheathed you in a thick woollen blanket as Azriel pushed through the door causing the females to shoot straight up, standing shoulder to shoulder to try to hide you behind them. 

“Hey, I dropped a bottle of liquor on the path sor- what are you two doing?” he looked suspiciously at the two, plopping the crate of food down by the mouth of the door. 

“Nothing!” their heads snapped to one another at the same time, cursing their simultaneous reply. 

“You two have the same look on your face that Cassian had when he was trying to hide the blood ruby he got from Summer Court after his experiment with arson” he gave a laugh that turned nervous when the females didn’t do the same, another almost panicked glance shared between them. 

“Well if that’s all Az, thanks for coming” Feyre made a quick movement to Azriel, catching his shoulders and turning him back towards the door, Nesta taking a wide stance to try to obscure more of you. 

“Fucking hell” your voice rattled out in pain as you pushed to sit up, the wool sinking down to your lap as your heavy hand found your bleeding head. Azriel’s eyes grew to nearly the width of his skull as he looked frantically between Nesta and Feyre. 

“She did it!” they said in unison again, pointing to one another. 

“Oh Rhys is going to kill you” he whispered angrily, moving to the couch as Nesta sidestepped, throwing an anxious look at Feyre.

“Whe-re the fuck a-m I? What happ-ened?” your hand traced through your thick hair, branches catching in the locks. You squeezed your eyes together tightly, trying to bring the cozy cabin into focus before swinging your legs to the ground and supporting your weight with one arm. Your movement went entirely still as you looked up to find the three members of the Night Court staring at you with matching bewilderment. 

“Am-am I dead?” Your stare landed on Azriel’s wings, conclusions forming quickly.

“No unfortunately not” Feyre elbowed Nesta into the ribs as Azriel analysed your whole figure with his hazel eyes, his shadows swirled around his feet until they wrapped around yours. Your shriek of pure terror caused them to dash back to their master. 

“You're okay!” Azriel tried but it was too late, you were in full panic mode, your system shutting down in utter distress until you felt your blood pressure hit the soles of your feet after hitting the ceiling, sending you into a loss of consciousness. 

“Nice going you big bat, you killed her” Azriel gave a dirty look towards Nesta, her eyes rolling for the thousandth time that day. 

“Send for Madja-”

“-Rhys will kill Nesta for this”

“Well I think her little magic trick will die without her” Feyre folded her arms into her chest, weighing up the options. 

“We could give her the tonic that's here, let her heal without everyone gawking at her at home. I’ll go back with Nesta and explain, by the time we’re here again perhaps she’ll be healed and Amren will be home from her travels and can send her back” 

“And am I supposed to play healer Feyre?”

“Well you have more experience with healing because of the battlefield than us and besides, Nesta isn’t known for her bedside manner” Azriel sighed before rubbing a hand across his face at Feyre’s logic, she showed him how you got here in his head to help her point.

“Okay fine, go but if she dies, I’m not to blame” They nodded in agreement, taking another look at your floppy body before heading for the door with their things, kicking the box of supplies out of the way. 

Azriel lifted your legs slowly back onto the couch before fetching a dish full of mountain water and healing tonic. He hovered the cloth over one of your large gashes that had cut straight through your straight-leg jeans. He looked over your body, unable to hide his curiosity towards the university logo decorating your sweatshirt, the deep purple colouring at the very ends of your hair as well as the multiple pieces of metal piercing through your ear's cartilage. Despite the series of cuts and bruises generously coating you, Azriel believed you might be the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and you were entirely out for the count. 

He sighed, dropping the cloth back into the dish and going to make tea with another healing concoction. He rolled his shoulders back and tucked his wings in as tight as possible to minimise their appearance before gently tapping your shoulder to bring you around. When that didn’t work, he fetched one of Cassian’s training boots and ran it beneath your nose, you stirred immediately. You went to shoot up in shock, his strong steady hand, gently pressing you back down. 

“You’re okay, you…you just fell but you’re okay.” he said as softly as possible, the ease of his voice unable to settle the rising worry across your face. 

“I-I fell?” he gave you a small nod, not entirely a lie he thought to himself. 

“Fucking hell my head-” you once again ran your hands down your face, the dry blood slightly flaking in the movement “-do you have any paracetamol or something?”

“Para-what-almol?” Azriel’s eyebrow raised in question before he reached for the tea he made for you from the small table behind him. You removed your hands from your face and looked towards the squatting Illyrian, taking in the beautiful male in front of you, pain being replaced by embarrassment. You pushed up despite his disapproval look, returning to the same position you were in before you fainted.

“Sorry, I should-I should go? Emm…where are we?” 

“This is Velaris”

“Velentia?! How did I get here?!” You shot to your feet in surprise, the blood rushing and sending you shakenly back to the soft fabric almost as quickly. 

“No, I’m not sure where that is but you’re not there, here take this” he passed the cup with a half laugh and you looked down unconvinced. 

“No thanks man, not here to be poisoned” Azriel scoffed in slight offense as he watched you wince to put it back on the small table. You look down at your freshly ripped jeans, your fingers tracing the fresh wounds. 

“I’m Azriel” His voice brought your eyes back to him as he passed you the soaked cloth, allowing you to run it over the gashes. 

“YN” You gave a small smile back, fighting the singe of the elixir. 

“YN? That’s an odd name”

“You say that as if there’s an Azriel at every petrol station in town” You half laugh, more questions entering Azriel’s head than answers. Azriel rose to his feet and headed into the kitchen with the abandoned groceries as you finished with your leg, starting on your forehead. 

“No paper here or something?” Azriel looked towards you as you took the cabin in in all its glory, Feyre’s artwork the object of your marvelling. 

“They’re Feyre’s, she was here earlier. She went a bit mad up here when she found out Rhysand was her mate”

“Mate? Oh she’s like Australian?”

“What? You speak in riddles” he laughed, joining your side on the couch with his own cup of tea. You looked at it with an air of hunger, not unnoticed by the Spymaster, he looked from the cup to your face. 

“You can drink it YN, it’s not poisoned, here look I’ll take a sip” You watched him take a taste before offering it back to you where you took it from him, its fresh floral taste having an almost reviving effect, you drank it almost one gulp. 

“Now, I’m afraid you can’t go home just y-”

“Fuck I knew it! What’s in this tea?! I’m being kidnapped!” You shot towards the door, almost knocking the dish of water all over the floor, sending Azriel swearing. You reached your exit and with a wave of his hand, Azriel locked it from the inside.

“YN, no one is going to hurt you, you just, this is going to be hard to explain, one of my…friends brought you here by accident” You still tried to pull on the knob of the door, glancing from it to Azriel as he stood to close the distance.

“Stay back! I know self-defence!” Azriel couldn’t hold his laugh at the small human girl before him threateningly looking at him. He went to catch your arm softly, only for you to send your heavy-booted Doc straight into his instep, followed by the base of your palm up and into his nose, the shock of your sudden movement catching him off guard. He groaned slightly reaching for his nose as it bled, missing your hand reaching for the keys in your pocket and the mace on the keychain. Azriel roared at the feeling of the spray of chemicals burning into his eyes, sending him onto the floor writhing in pain.

“Fuck! Fine! Die in the snow!” He shouted out, waving his hand and releasing the door. You hardly heard him, whipping the door back as the now night air lashed in near-freezing gails of icy snow. You fought the tornado of air as you put the oak door between you and it, sliding down the wood to the ground, your body screaming in pain still from the fall. Azriel sat up, still blinking hard to clear the burning liquid. 

“And you thought I’d be the one to use poison” A breathy laugh left him as his red eyes watered and you found yourself matching his smile.

“I promise I won’t kill you, if you don’t kill me” he gave you a genuine look and for some reason you felt such a wave of trust hit you. You agreed, too tired to run from him or face the snow and you rolled your head along the door before looking back at the Illyrian, tracing your eyes along his linen shirt and leather pants

“Are you in a motorbike gang or something?”

“Gods I hope you start making sense soon” he pushed up from the ground, doing his best to not untuck his wings for balance. You looked up at him and reluctantly took the hand he offered, noting the deep scaring covering them like burls on a tree. He followed your eyes to his hands before he gingerly took them back to replace them across his still-stinging eyes. Azriel threw himself back down on the couch and you followed suit.

“I’m sorry about the-” you gestured to your own eyes and he gave a small laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m impressed a human would have such speed, to be honest”

“Human? And what are you a fish?” 

“No” he didn’t return your laughing tone, only reaching for your disregarded cloth and placing it over his eyes. Your hand ran down the side of your jeans until you retrieved your phone, the screen fully destroyed from your dance with the trees. 

“Great” you sighed, throwing it down on the table, Azriel watching the action. 

“Nesta couldn’t save your mirror from the fall?”

“Nesta? Rhysand? Azriel? No one called like Dave around here?” 

“Not really the fashion in Prythian” he smiled.

“Prythian? Like from the children's stories?” you chuckled at him.

“No, Prythian like the realm” he tossed the cloth back into the dish, the red in his eyes subsiding. 

“My mom used to tell me stories about Prythian and these like great bat boy warriors with these really big-big-win…” you trailed off as you looked to see the shape of Azriel’s wings over his shoulder. 

“Really big? Well, thanks for the flattery” He laughed aloud as your face greyed. 

“Fuck, it’s happened, studying for my physics final has finally driven me insane, this is all in my head, a stress-induced dream” Azriel reached to your thigh and gave you a gentle pinch following your matter-of-fact speech, causing you to flinch a little.

“Okay so not a dream…”

“Not a dream, my brother’s lovely ma-wife’s sister, pulled you through a sort of rip in the realm and landed you here…not very carefully might I add” He said softly so as to not have you black out again, you nodded very very slowly to his words. You faced away from him, fixing your stare on the smashed phone, you thought of your physics lectures. The theories of tears in the fabric of time being possible, the possibility of alternative realities, the possibility of unexplored realms before settling finally that this wasn’t a possibility, this was a reality. 

“So, okay, right-” you bit your lip, working through the thought, Azriel trying to push the shiver down his spine away at that action “-okay cool, right, so I’m gonna need like an excuse note or something for the exam and then, right, cool, Xanax maybe”

“Is Xanax a friend of yours who can help?” Your head shot towards Azriel at his genuine question and you let a roar of laughter leave you. 

“Definitely although I don’t think they’re here somehow” you offered with a smirk, Azriel feeling a weird sense of jealousy at not being the object of this smile. 

“Well, we’ll make do and try to get you home” You nodded sheepishly to him.

“Do you not want to go home YN? You seemed pretty eager when you tried to break my nose earlier” he smiled and you gently knocked into his shoulder playfully. 

“I mean…I’m not in a rush to get back to the test” 

“Okay well, it will be a day or two before my friends are back and Rhys has calmed down over Nesta bringing you to greet us so you’ll have time. As for now, care to have something to eat? You can help me make it so we both know neither is trying to poison the other” he gave a light laugh while standing again, and you followed him along to the kitchen. 

For the rest of the night, the both of you spent your time cooking, laughing and teaching one another about your worlds. Azriel explained the Courts, his role and his family’s as well as giving a shortened version of their relationships with one another. In return, you told him about your studies, what Instagram was and how democracy works. Azriel wasn’t sure he’d ever felt such strong feelings towards someone he’d just met before and it confused him almost as much as what microwaves were. 

“Here you go, a glass of our best liquor, you deserve it” Azriel passed you the tumbler as you sat cross-legged on the couch beneath the woollen blanket you were previously hidden under.

“Oh slay”

“No, I didn’t kill anything to get this for you” You almost choked on the drink with the laugh that left you at his confused words. 

“No Azriel it’s like-actually maybe I’ll explain drag culture to you another day” He nodded eagerly at the prospect of learning more, sinking into the couch alongside you with his own drink. 

“So have you girlf-mate type person like Feyre and Rhys?”

“No, no girlf-mate type person-” he teased back and you sighed, clipping him with the pillow from under your elbow “-do you?”

“Nope, to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be missed from home, I lost my parents young and never really found my flock at college either” you shrugged. 

“How could anyone not miss you YN?”

“You have to say that, you’re my captor”

“Actually Nesta captured you, I’m just minding you-” You returned his smirk “-speaking of which, time for sleep, tomorrow they should be back to figuring getting you home for your exam” you whined like a misbehaving child but you’d been fighting off sleep since dinner so agreed with him.

He lead you to his room in the cabin before offering you one of his clean linen shirts and leaving you to sleep. You practically swam in the fabric, with no wings or Illyrian muscles to fill it out, feeling the same way about the colossal bed that you slipped into. You looked up at the ceiling where Feyre had painted delicate little consolations, the day washing over you, had all your prayers finally been answered? You smiled as you gave into the sleep that hunted you all day.

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

“We are sending her back!”

“Amren can’t guarantee she’ll end up in her realm, she’s not going anywhere!” You wiped the sleep from your eyes, Azriel's blunt tone waking you from the best sleep of your life.

“She can’t stay here Az!”

“And what if she ends up somewhere a lot worse, she coul-oh YN you’re awake” You looked from the doorway between the two gorgeous Illyrians. 

“This is Rhysand”

“Oh, your majesty I suppose” you did a half bow after stepping closer to the males, a small laugh leaving Rhysand at the action. 

“Don’t flatter him YN”

“YN, flatter me if that would make you happy” he grinned, Azriel rolling his eyes. 

“You’re exactly as described” You shrugged at him, settling down on the couch between where the lllyrians stood

“I would like to apologies for Nesta’s…interuption to your day to day life and more so for…probably being all Nesta when you woke up” Rhysand offered, Azriel folding his arms tightly across his chest as he inspected you closely, you in his shirt may now be his favourite sight. Rhysand watched the slight change in his brothers demanour at your presence, this increasing his worry. 

“Now YN, it’s time we get you back to-”

“-I heard you guys say you can’t say for certain I’ll get home” you cut across Rhysand, his eyes darting back to you, Azriel trying to bury his smirk.

“I’m confident we know how to get you there”

“Okay cool, so Feyre will accompany me” 

“What?” Rhysand bit out.

“Well its just if you’re so sure you’ll get me in the right spot, surely you’ll have no issue allowing Feyre to accompany me yanno, since you’re confident” Azriel lost his battle in holding in his smirk. 

“She’s got you there Rhys, if one of us wouldn’t do it, why should she?”

“Because she doesn’t belong here” Rhysand chewed out, locking eyes with his brother.

“She is sitting right here and she isn’t going near any wormhole or whatever if you’re not sure I’d get there safe” You forced his attention back to your with your sharp words.

“Who said anything about worms?”

“YN has a habit of speaking in riddles” Azriel sat alongside you, giving you a somewhat proud smile, his arm instinctively resting on the back of the couch behind you. 

“YN, I’m sure you’re great but I can almost guarantee that our world is vastly different to yours, it’s a lot to take on for your mortal mind, perhaps we could arrange a home for you in the mortal realm?” you tilted your head side to side weighing up his offer before Azriel replied for you.

“I can teach her our ways, I can school her like you did Feyre” Rhysand sighed out but couldn’t deny the way Azriel looked at you and you at him was deeply familiar to him. 

“Fine, a week, you may stay a week and if it doesn’t work out then the mortal realm it is, we’ll set you up with a nice manor and you’ll live very comfortably”

“Like Downton Abbey?” you teased despite your audience.

“I’m not familiar with that region”

“Is that where the drag culture is?”

“Of sorts” you laughed at Azriel and his quizzical words, his hazel eyes so enamoured by the sight, further cementing Rhysand’s suspicions. Rhysand sighed deeply ensuring you agreed to the terms and to be taught by Azriel before he left to continue to reprimand Nesta. 

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

Over the next week it became abundantly clear that despite being from two different realms, you and Azriel were made for one another. You both had the same humor and intelligence as well as thirst for knowledge. You continued to teach him about your home and he taught you about the new world around you and the more you learned the less you wanted to leave. On your first day in Velaris, you thought your heart may burst with the growing love for the place and even more so for your guide. 

“And then Cass completely blew the building up, I thought the vein was going to burst in Rhysand’s head” Azriel tilted his head back and laughed loudly while you both crossed the bridge of the Sidra, your last official day in the Night Court before you had to decide. Somewhere along the way, Azriel and your hands became interlocked and forgot to separate.

“You live such insane lives here”

“And you could too” he stopped you in your tracks, his eyes warming over your body as he looked down on you, the sinking sun reflecting off of the snow. 

“Maybe with less arson though” he added with a grin you loved so much. 

“Az, I’d love to stay but-”

“-No, just say ‘Az I’d love to stay’ and leave it there” he fought his faltering smile as you looked down at his shoes, both hands held in his now. 

“But Az-” you couldn’t find the end of the sentence, the words lost on Azriel’s lips as they met yours with such searing passion. His mouth slotted over yours with such a perfect fit it was like they were always meant to be there. You stood further on your toes to deepen the kiss as his hands traced around the nape of your neck and yours landed around his torse. You separated when the need for air almost matched the need to never let go. 

“I-I can’t remember the end of my last thought” you laughed lightly and he grinned. “So you’ll stay?”

“I don’t think I was ever going to be able to walk away from you…well not without mace anyways” you smiled back into another kiss, the second of many many more.

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

Let Me Know What You Think Friend!?

Part Two

[vcmpbyt]

† FEEDING. REMMICK.FEM!READER

⊹ A/N; a little thumb sucking cause LCL rewired my brain jack o'connell the man you are.. not proofread at all and im currently vampcock-drunk on a tuesday night (been for the past weeks actually who am i kidding) and the google docs light is slowly chipping away at my soul...... i can feel my time is coming

⊹ WARNINGS; porn no plot. oral(f!recieving). subby-ish remmick? no specific descriptions of reader.

⊹ MASTERLIST

=͟͟͞͞ ✧

“fuck, lemme taste it, sugar- jus’ once, please- “ remmick’s mouth was already wrapped around your fingers before the words finished falling, suckling hard like a dying man trying to swallow sin. there was blood on your hand. not yours, just some poor bastard who didn’t know better. you watched his tongue curl, pathetic and desperate, tracing the ridges of your knuckles as he moaned- a filthy little whimper that made your thighs twitch, made your cunt throb in sympathy.

“don’t like it,” he muttered thickly, drool stringing from his lips as he kissed the pad of your thumb. “ain’t his i want, darlin’. hate what it shows me… shit’s rotten. wish it were yours instead- “ you shoved your thumb into his mouth and he whined. “ain’t that a damn shame,” you whispered. remmick groaned like it hurt, but it didn’t, quite the opposite actually. his lips sealed tight around your thumb, cheeks hollowing, his brow twitching as he worked your digit, spit pooling at the corners of his mouth. you pull him down by the collar, and he goes- eager, like a dog starved. your thighs caged his head before he could argue. the weight of your cunt on his face made him tremble. you’d barely settled on his mouth when he moaned loud, like he’d been starving for it, bucking his hips into the nothing beneath him. his nose buries in your heat, and he inhales you like he means to remember this in his bones. his tongue- wet and pathetic, fluttered useless for half a second- then found your clit like it knew the way home. licking through your folds, dragging flat and slow before flicking sharp and quick, then that whiny little suck as his lips latched and stayed. you rocked down hard, grinding yourself across the slick curve of his jaw, his stubble catching on your folds like grit. “f-fuck me, that’s it-“ you muttered, half lost in the sound of his spit mixing with your slick. he mouths at your clit like he’s trying to brand it, then sucks- hard, deep pull that has your eyes rolling back, legs trembling. he was drooling down his chin now, whimpering into your pussy with every flick of his tongue. you could feel him shaking, his hands weren’t even touching you- laid out beside him like he’d forgotten how to move, just let you use his face however you wanted. he finally put his hand to good, sliding his fingers inside- two of them, curling deep with a lewd squelch. he was fingering you deep, dragging slick from the inside, fucking it back in with every thrust. his spit mixed with your slick at this point, sticky strings of it dribbling down to his wrist, pooling at the base of your ass. slap slap slap- his palm smacking your cunt with every push, fingers curling up against your front wall like he was trying to pluck something loose. you grabbed his hair and tugged- he only responded with a high pitched whine.

he doesn’t stop. not even when you’re writhing, not even when your thighs shake around his head and you’re sobbing into your hand. hips stuttering as you rutted your release right against his swollen lips and sticky fingers. he licked through it, slurped every drop, tongue fluttering even as your cunt twitched- moaning like he was the one coming. 

[sai-int]

loser Simon this, loser Simon that... what about loser reader?

-🦈 (you know who)

LMFAO I LOVE THIS

loser reader is showing up late to every briefing with a piece of toast in their mouth.

loser reader is getting lost on base even though they’ve been stationed there for months.

loser reader is trying to sound cool over comms but forgets to turn their mic on.

loser reader is just about to get a kill on their first op with the 141 and then immediately trips over a rock.

loser reader is complaining about rations while still stuffing their face.

loser reader is talking all that shit, saying they could totally take ghost in a spar, then immediately getting folded like a lawn chair.

loser reader is getting patched up by doc again because they ran their mouth at the wrong guy.

loser reader is making so much noise on a stealth op that ghost has to physically drag them into cover, clamping a gloved hand over their mouth while they mumble a muffled, “my bad.”

loser reader is talking about how emotionally unavailable men are a red flag but then immediately turning around and falling for ghost, like an absolute clown.

[crushmeeren]

Bakugou / Fem Reader ☠

☠ Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+.

Warnings; making out, pussy eating, hickies, choking, bit of dirty talk/praise, not so vanilla vaginal sex/anal sex, aftercare.

☠ Master List Link

Katsuki who constantly paints his nails midnight black. Who has piercings adorning his lobes all the way up to the cartilage on both ears. Who decided to add a tragus on the left and a daith on the right because why the fuck not. Who gets an eyebrow piercing. Who exclusively wears black or silver jewelry.

Katsuki who is littered with tattoos. They span across both his arms, his chest, and a few on his legs. Who looks drool worthy with the black and gray ink coloring his skin.

Katsuki who is left handed and takes pride in the fact. Who consistently will rest his calloused right hand on the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh whenever he’s driving. Who squeezes too hard when someone cuts him off, the road rage is real with Katsuki.

Katsuki who chooses to specifically listen to Japanese rock and heavy metal at full volume. Who enjoys the breeze during summertime and rolls the windows down in the car anytime he can. Who blasts the music when he drives, if only to force others to “listen to decent fucking music.”

Katsuki who religiously wears all black. Who loves Doc Martens so much you tell him he should marry them. Who wears Vans and Converse, and who has an unbearable amount of SiM band T-shirts. Whenever you steal them he only protests half heartedly.

Katsuki who plays the drums like a prodigy. Who learns your favorite rock songs just so he can play them for you. Who melts your heart with the sweet gesture, plus you think it’s the coolest fucking thing ever to watch him play.

Katsuki who legitimately curses like a sailor. Who seems he says fuck every other word.

Katsuki who introduces you to Eijirou and Denki. The two easily become some of your closest friends, much to Katsuki’s disdain. They’re always at your house and you can’t complain.

Kastuki who flushes the sweetest peachy color all the way to the tips of his ears when you call him Katsuki for the first time.

Katsuki who bakes you any desert you could ever wish for. Who cooks dinner for you just about every night, and packs lunches for you with fruit cut into cute little shapes.

Katsuki who encouraged you to get into fitness in the first place. Who’s been your rock every step of the way. Who loves you no matter what you look like, but wanted to share his passion of working out with you. Who often invites his red headed best friend to tag along.

Katsuki who helped you learn how to love yourself. Who has always been your weight lifting/running buddy, even if you complain about cardio more often than not. Besides, seeing Katsuki in his gym attire, sweating so hard it drips down his jaw, is more than enough of a motivator to work harder.

Katsuki who pushes you outside your comfort zone. Who is stern, but never mean when he’s encouraging you.

Katsuki who’s terrifyingly observant and intuitively knows when you’re getting overstimulated at the grocery store. Who makes haste, leveling anyone in the way the bitchiest look he’s capable of. Who holds your hand and whispers comforting words to help settle your nerves.

Katsuki who falls harder in love with you each day. Who you trust with your life. Who is your best fucking friend, who you say yes to when he proposes. Who is the best dad to the kids you inevitably have. Who is your one and only.

Katsuki who you drive insane when you make out. Who shivers, hard cock pushing into your thigh when you suck on his tongue. Who actually whimpers when you frame his face with your hands, tilting his head slightly to get a better angle when your tongue glides over his.

Katsuki who loves pulling your soft nipples into his mouth one at a time, flicking and tugging gently with his teeth until your nails threaten to scratch his scalp open. Who makes sure you can see his warm tongue swirling, plush lips mouthing until you’re pushing at his forehead.

Katsuki who bites hickies into the underside of your tits. Whose teeth make your skin ache, a dull throb making itself known. Who doesn’t stop there, marking you any place he wants to.

Katsuki whose voice is gravelly, husky when he whispers to you that you’re his needy little bitch. Who assures you you’re his sweet princess in the next moment. Who gives you whiplash from the mixture of praise and degradation, but who knows it pushes you over the edge.

Katsuki who eats your pussy until you see stars. Who eases two fingers inside you, tapping them over your g-spot and licking your clit steadily until your thighs tremble.

Katsuki who gets your pussy drooling so eagerly that his cock meets no resistance pushing in. Who shifts his weight, the curly blonde hair at the base of his shaft brushing up over your clit. Who sends a blistering pleasure to your toes with each glide of his cock.

Katsuki who hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. Who digs his teeth into your calf until there’s an oval of imprints in your skin. Who bends until he can brace his hands by your shoulders, snapping his hips forward with sharp thrusts.

Katsuki who gets so sweaty during sex it trails down his jaw, down his neck and pools lewdly at his collarbones. Who laughs when you can’t resist the urge to lean up and taste him.

Katsuki who loves anal. Who’s feral about how tight your ass is, about the obscene way your rim stretches for his cock. Who will fuck you from behind while he opens you up with his fingers.

Katsuki who allows you to set the pace. Who lets you guide his cock gradually past your rim. Who pants excessively, voice hoarse as he complains about how hard it is not to flex and split you in half.

Katsuki who has a lilting moan wrenched from his throat when he starts to move. Who pushes down on your upper back, throwing his weight into each thrust.

Katsuki who fucks you so overwhelmingly your nails almost shred the sheets. Who has you screeching Katsuki! so deafeningly you shove your face into the sheets to muffle the noise. Whose hips bounce off your ass so roughly it turns your skin red.

Katsuki who nails your g-spot this way. Who forces you to cum so harshly you get chills. Who has you screaming out that you can’t take it, but who doesn’t slow his pace because he knows you’d say the safe word if you meant it.

Katsuki who is so mean. Who grips your hips rigidly, yanking you back to meet his thrusts. Who speaks condescendingly when he demands to know where the fuck you think you’re going, because “I know your slutty little ass can take my cock.”

Katsuki who rips an orgasm out of you, halfway to snarling when you squirt all over the sheets below. Who falls over the edge shortly after, bending over your back with a throaty moan and filling you with his release.

Katsuki who cleans you with a warm wash cloth afterwards. Who aids you in getting dressed in one of his oversized shirts. Who trades sweet kisses with you in the dark, snuggling you into his chest until you fall asleep. Who shrouds you with the feeling of safety and security while you dream of bright explosions.

[huellitaa]

pretty girl winter 🧁❄️🎀

ok so winter is my FAVOURITE season ever!! i am THE christmas girl of all time and i wna make this the most beautiful pink christmas ever! and i am so excited to spend it with my favourite people ever (my tumblr girls) ❄️🩷

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ winter music ♡

sweet dreams, tomorrow x together

last christmas, ariana grande

sleigh ride, the ronettes

merry & happy, twice

beautiful christmas, red velvet / aespa

santa tell me, ariana grande

doughnut, twice

winter wonderland, beabadoobee

jingle bell rock, bobby helms / aespa

rocking around the christmas tree, brenda lee

let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!, dean martin

have yourself a merry little christmas, judy garland

christmas dreaming, laufey

one more sleep, leona lewis

cindy lou who, sabrina carpenter

(🎀🗒 note: i also have a playlist filled with lots of these songs and music here! ♡)

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ winter beauty ♡

moisturiser moisturiser moisturiser. hand cream is also a must so they dont get cracked and dry, especially in the winter! ❄️🫶🏻🩷

i dont take cold showers in the winter bcuz i get ill easily , so i always take warm showers w 30 seconds of cold at the end 💭🎀💗

vanilla, cinnamon, musk, chocolate, pomegranate, cherry, pudding and sweet, rich scents 💭🐧🫶🏻

makeup in pale pink, white, soft gold, silver, lots of sparkles, dewy and light

red lip gloss / stick is an essential! 💭🎀

🎄𓂃 ࣪˖ winter fashion ♡

fluffy coats!!!!! i personally love my massive black trenchcoat its v cute

scarves, hats, gloves, etc ♡ 🎀🧸

leggings, tights, long socks, leg warmers, etc. (i esp love sheer tights!)💭

anything faux-fur lined

pink, silver, gold, and white ♡

boots, uggs, doc martens, clunky shoes!

🎀💭❄️ simple formula to a cute winter fit:

skirt -> tights -> long sleeves -> coat -> shoes

(long sleeves can be anything from turtleneck to jumper, tights can be leggings / long socks or whatever you like, and the same goes for shoes! this is an easily versatile idea, not one size fits all 🫶🏻)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ winter movies ♡

muppet christmas carol!!!!!♡ my fav ever

the nightmare before christmas

beauty and the beast: the enchanted christmas

the miracle on 34th street

the grinch (live and animated)

jingle all the way

the polar express

home alone

mean girls (not a christmas film, but the jingle bell rock scene is iconic)

(🎀🗒 note: one thing i like to do is compile a list of all ur favourite shows and their christmas / winter episodes and just binge watch all of them!! 🩷🫶🏻🎄🧸)

🌨𓂃 ࣪˖ winter activities ♡

i love journalling and scrapbooking at any time of year, but i feel like it's always extra cosy in winter! playing some christmas music, cuddling up in pink pyjamas and journalling 🫶🏻🎀🩷

anything to do with baking and hot food is so cosy; gingerbread houses and hot chocolate, christmas cupcakes !! 🎄🫶🏻

i dont really know what category this falls into, but around christmas time i always love to make things about my family and friends; painting, decorating photos and hanging them up, journalling about them, and so on ! 💭💝❄️

make a list of all the people you're getting christmas presents for this year and compile a little bundle of things for them! 💗💭

learn about old winter tales and folklore, fron your culture or from others 🌨🎀

take up sewing, knitting, crocheting, etc. even if you've never done it before 🩷🧸

christmas market hopping!!!!!! one of my favourite things to do in winter is go out with my friends, go shopping and just browse the stalls bcuz theyre always so cute and cosy 🧁🐧💗

writing & making christmas cards ❄️🎀

unnecessary acts of kindness! this should go without saying for majority of the time, but i always love to go the extra mile during christmas to keep with the spirit and everything 🫶🏻🧸🎄

ice skating. obviously. i wanna go w my friends this year !!! 🎀⛸️🧁☃️

all my love, and happy december! 🎄🎀🫶🏻💗

[unlawfulgames]

SOOTY BEARDS IS OUT! Come get your dwarves and your beard oil! Help us slow fund a physical release! https://plusoneexp.com/pages/sooty-beards

What is Sooty Beards?

A setting zine about a fantasy dwarf-hold crossed with a decaying American coal town. People are leaving and things are falling apart. If something doesn’t change–if things can’t change–it’ll become a ghost town soon.

Sooty Beards Features:

8 Run-down urban and wilderness areas complete with “What Used To Be Here?” And “What’s Here Now?” tables to bring out the weight of ages.

8 Strange, Dual-Statted Creatures to populate your dying coal town with, whether your game uses d6 or d20.

Dozens of quirky, narrative items to discover, from screaming lanterns to steampowered ballistic sportballs.

A “Why Did You Even Come Here?” table to give your characters quick, easy, and miserable motivations for visiting the crumbling city of Vesallberg.

More than 20 evocative pieces of art and a beautiful map of Vesallberg by Charles Ferguson-Avery.

CREEPING DEPRESSION

Instant talking canaries! Just add booze!

A glossary of useful terms to get you speaking like a native ‘Berger in no time.

A supplemental bonus book with d66 backgrounds for Vesallberg locals, compatible with TROIKA!

What People Are Saying

“An evocative portrait of community decay in the form of a TTRPG setting -- the troubles of these dwarves in their failing mine resonate strongly with the concerns of the modern day. Bleak in the best way. One gets the sense that this text is just the tip of the Vesallberg, as it were; hints lurk throughout that there is much more going on beneath the surface. (What is up with those *cats*?)”

- Dr. Mac Boyle of The Maniculum Podcast and Marginal Worlds TTRPG

The Creators of Bridgetown have done it again. They’re created a grim, nay whimsical–nay grimsical – setting that makes me wish I could grow a beard.

– Asa Donald of Backwards Tabletop

Ah, Vesallberg, miserable rock, “titanic triumph and miscreation”, a dying city stripped of resources, but full of beards (and the ecosystems within them). A wonderfully horrid place to visit, from the Slag Hills to the Deep Delvings. Come for strange misadventures among the Koljar Dwarves, Big Folk, and Scrawny folk. Stay for the deep, dark, hilarious writing; the whip-smart Politics(™); and the amazing illustration. Once you arrive you may never be able want to leave.

—Adam STATION, An Infinity of Ships, Make 100 Bastards

"How do you communicate background and lore in an RPG without it becoming a slog through a textbook? Quotes, cool tables, beautiful maps, and evocative art. This book makes it easy to picture the dwarf-hold of Vesallberg!”

-Joshua McCrowell of His Majesty The Worm

“This is like Veins of the Earth but with more life and less crunch. I really dig it!”

-David Schiduan of Technical Grimoire

“Welcome to Vesallberg, the Phoenix of the Wetlands™! … How’d that sound? Too corny? It’s too corny, isn’t it. Oh, that’ll send ‘em running away even faster. Stupid, stupid…!”

-Dent Pigiron, Newest Head of the Visitor Center

From the Team

From Furtive Goblin

Like most of my projects, what would eventually become Sooty Beards started as a half-joking mashup of X and Y shared with my friend John. In this case the “X” and “Y” were “Khazad-dûm” and “a dying coal town”, which turned out to be the magic words. For the next year he and I threw ideas back and forth and built the doc up, but soon I found myself in my first ever leading role with final say on what our team did. A fun idea became my first test as a game designer. And if you find yourself interested in picking up a copy of your own then hey, thanks for helping me pass.

From John Gregory

Just like Bridgetown, Furtive Goblin came up to me and said “Hey, I’ve got an idea!” And I responded, “I shall assemble The Team.” And, well, once again some of the Very Vilest Viziers have come together to give you something weird and bleak, a mix of dark humor, social commentary and dwarves being dwarves. Pulling from somewhere between my Appalachian coal-town ancestors and Furtive’s literal experience living under a rock, I’d like to think we’ve made something that will speak to that yet burning coal in your soul.

From Tony

I had 2 people message me asking if I could help Furtive get a zine published. I was already interested and then… they mentioned beards. At one point they tried to give me a “developer credit” but really Furt, John & Charlie did all the work and it’s beautiful, grimm & whimsical all at the same time. Each level of design layering on the next, to create something more than the individual parts. At the end of the day, unlike Vesallberg, I think people will flock to this project because of the earnest love that the creators have for what they have made, and each other. It’s great to be the 1st fan of a project, but it’s just as good to be the 3rd fan.

Follow Up

If you have additional questions, would like to schedule an interview, set up a time to play with us, or have any other questions please feel free to reach out via email to Tony@PlusOneExp.com

[watcheraurora]

An Experiment

Welp. This is certainly a rabbit hole I didn't expect to fall down... huh. I don't know where this came from and I've never written this ship before nor did I ever expect to. If this is your thing, uh, enjoy, I guess? 4.2k words

—

Grian's first thought upon waking up crashing into the river was that falling asleep flying was a bad idea. He hadn't exactly meant to do that. But he couldn't remember the last time he slept.

His wings weren't preened either. No preening oil? No waterproofing. No waterproofing? Waterlogged feathers. Waterlogged feathers?

He couldn't swim. His wings were heavy and weighed down, dragging through the river. Too soaked to even try to furl against his back. Let alone flap.

He flailed, trying to swim toward shore. But the weight of his wings was making any sort of progress negligible as he fought the current and the rapids. He was probably swallowing water. He was definitely going to be sick later. His shoes being soggy didn't help him fly either.

Welp. This is less than ideal, he thought as a rapid bowled him over and dunked his head underwater. He fought back to the surface.

He gulped lungfuls of air when his head broke the surface.

He wasn't making much progress to go sideways, his wings' drag making everything difficult.

Then he saw someone.

Someone familiar.

But he hesitated.

He and Doc had a tempestuous relationship at the best of times. Grian wasn't sure, if he called for help, whether Doc would even respond.

But Doc wasn't that callous...

Right?

"D... DOC!" Grian shouted. Or tried to. His voice was breathy and he was so cold from the water that he couldn't reach his full volume. "Doc! Help! Please!"

Doc's horns flashed off the sunlight as he whirled where he was walking along the riverbank to see Grian in the water, fighting to get to shore.

Without hesitation, Doc pulled a fishing rod out of his inventory and cast the line. The hook caught in Grian's jumper and undershirt with expert precision. Doc wound the reel and pulled Grian against the water and toward the bank.

Grian hauled himself out of silt and rock and water once he was shallow enough to get his feet under him. He made it to the dry land beyond the bank and just collapsed on his front, wings still dragging behind him, their tips still in the water. He shivered and shook, soaked through to the bone and still clothed. Freezing as the breeze brushed over him.

Doc crouched and unhooked the hook of his fishing rod from Grian's clothing. "Sorry," he said. "I can't swim without preparation. My arm and eye weren't in swim mode. I couldn't just jump in to save you—my cybernetics would short out and then we'd both be stuck."

Grian waved a weak, shaky hand. "... 's fine," he gasped out. "Jus'... jus' grateful... I'm out."

Doc inspected him. "How'd you end up in the water?"

"F... fell."

"Out of the sky?"

Grian's face would be burning up in embarrassment if his blood wasn't fighting to keep his core warm. "Fell asleep flying," he admitted. "I... I've been awake... for a while."

Doc's head cocked to one side. "How long is a while?"

Grian tried to shrug, but his wings were too soaked to follow the movement. The most he got was a twitch. "Few days."

Doc heaved a sigh. "Pesky bird. Can't even take care of yourself," he chided. But there was no real bite to his tone. Unlike usual. "Is that why your wings are tattered? When did you last preen?"

"C... couple days."

"No wonder they were making you sink."

Grian's shivering hadn't stopped. His teeth chattered. "Y... yeah."

Doc made a face. "Come on, little bird," he said. "Let's get you dried and warmed up."

Not waiting for an invitation, Doc stowed the fishing rod and scooped Grian off the ground into a careful bundle against his chest. He was careful to not let the plating of his cybernetic arm pinch any of Grian's skin or feathers as he folded Grian's wings to his back and held them too so they wouldn't hang limply in the air and drag them both down.

His butterfly wings opened and fluttered to stretch out before they beat the air hard and lifted them both into the sky.

The speed of Doc's flight made the wind even colder and Grian shook even harder. Curling as close to Doc as he could get in order to try and absorb some of Doc's body heat.

Thankfully, Doc took Grian back to Grian's own base. Much closer to the shopping district than Doc's.

He touched down on the porch of the cyan cliff house and carefully carried Grian inside. "Where is all your stuff?" he asked.

"S-s-s-s-storage hut. Down below," Grian said through chattering teeth.

Doc sighed. "Your lips are turning blue," he observed. "Can I get your wet clothes off? Or do you want me to leave?"

Grian tried pulling up the hem of his own jumper. But his hands were shaking too hard to cooperate. "Y-y-y-you c-can he-elp."

Doc set Grian down on a windowsill in the sun, rather than the bed, and carefully unbuttoned the jumper and undershirt's openings for his wings. Once those were undone, he pulled the jumper over Grian's head. It landed with a rather wet plop on the floor. The undershirt quickly followed.

"Can I take off your shoes and trousers?"

Grian nodded.

The shoes came off easily enough, but Doc was extra gentle and mindful of Grian's trousers. They ended up in the pile on the floor too.

Doc went over to a chest along one wall. Grian's clothing. He pulled out some new underwear. "Put these on. I'll turn my back." He handed them over and waited. After a few moments, Grian tapped him on the arm and he turned to see Grian had changed.

Doc nodded and yanked the blankets off the bed. He wrapped them around Grian's torso under his arms, leaving his shoulders, arms, and head exposed. But also his wings. Which were still sopping, along with his messy light brown curls.

Doc found some towels and began to carefully dry off Grian's wings, prioritizing them as they were the largest thing still wet and would be worse than his head at losing body heat for the moment. He was careful not to bend or break any of the feathers as he sponged the wings dry as best he could. "Y... you've done this before," Grian said. Not a question. He could feel the experience in Doc's fingers. Doc’s movements were too practiced for a non-Avian without feathers.

Doc shrugged. “Once or twice.” That’s a lie and they both know it. He’s clearly had plenty of times drying wings. Grian wondered whose for a brief moment. But he didn’t press Doc any further. For once. Just grateful to have the help.

“I, er… I’ll be honest. I wasn’t sure you’d help me,” Grian admitted.

A towel fell over his head, casting him into darkness. Making him sleepy. Stupid bird genes. Doc rubbed at his hair rougher than he had his wings to dry it off. “That’s fair, actually,” he said. “We do not always treat each other kindly. You pesky bird.”

Grian smiled. Weak and watery while he shivered. “Yeah. But thank you.”

Doc shrugged.

Grian’s wings were dry enough. Doc repositioned the blankets to be fully draped over and around Grian, including his wings. He helped Grian onto the bed to be more comfortable. Then took Grian’s wet clothes and shoes outside to lie on the porch in the sun and dry off.

When he came back inside, Grian was still shivering. Had been the whole time. Doc settled his hands on his hips. “You’re still cold. Your lips are still blue.”

Grian didn’t respond to that. Just kept shaking.

Doc made a face. He took a deep breath. “You’d warm up better if you had someone else’s body heat to share. Your body isn’t producing enough on its own.”

“O-o-okay?”

Doc’s jaw tightened. “Would you be okay if I warmed you up?”

Grian blinked. Several times. “Wh… what?” In truth, the moment Doc said that, Grian had thought about shouting for Scar to come over. Scar was a living furnace in his own right most of the time. But… come to think of it, Scar was down for the count. His health hadn’t been good recently.

“Look. You can call someone else, but—”

“No!” Grian protested. Too quickly. What was up with him today? “No. I-it’s okay if you do.”

Doc unbuttoned his lab coat. “Okay. Open the blankets.” He shed the coat and settled onto the bed beside Grian. Who dutifully opened the blankets. Doc wrapped them around both of them and drew Grian against his chest. He didn’t wear a shirt under his lab coat often. Today was one of those days where his torso was bare. Grian’s cold skin against his made him hiss, but he didn’t push him away. Just drew the blankets to cover as much as he could. Which. Considering Doc’s height and Grian’s wings, really wasn’t all that much. Just barely enough to hold some heat in.

Grian snuggled right up against Doc and closed his eyes. His trembling wasn’t as bad as it had been.

“Th… thank you,” Grian said again. Quietly.

Doc hummed. A low rumble in his chest. “You’re welcome.”

Grian couldn’t help it. Doc was so warm and he was so tired from fighting the river. He felt his eyes slipping shut.

Doc loosed a long, slow breath, fluttering some dry flyaway hairs on the top of Grian’s head. “Come closer, little bird,” he said softly, hooking one hand around Grian’s leg and picking him up to set him in his lap. Grian burrowed even closer from there. Shaking quieting some.

“Doc?”

“Mm?”

“You’re kinder than I give you credit for.”

“Mm.”

Grian dropped off to sleep.

—

When he woke, it was dark out.

The memories crashed back all at once. His body was sore from the swim. His neck was cricked. He was—

Wait.

Why was he sitting up?

Slowly, his eyes blinked open, sticky from sleep.

Doc was lounged back on Grian’s bed, still holding him close. Still warm. His head was back on the custom headboard Scar had carved and he was dozing himself.

Doc stayed?

Grian would have expected to wake up alone. Bundled up. No longer at risk for hypothermia.

But Doc was still here. On his bed with him. Holding him even as he slept.

Grian… didn’t know how to handle that.

He didn’t know what to do. Get up and leave? Wake Doc? Find some way to hold this over Doc’s head for the rest of time?

Stay right where he was?

Ohhh—that was by far the most appealing option. Just linger right where he was. Absorbing Doc’s heat. Hearing that strong, steady heartbeat under his ear. Feeling the rhythm of Doc’s breathing gently shift him. Doc was firmly muscled but not uncomfortably so. Using his shoulder as a pillow was the reason for the crick in Grian's neck, but he didn't want to move.

Weird.

Grian was well aware that Doc was still out for revenge regarding Grian and some of the other Hermits covering the Perimeter—with the primary target of that revenge being Grian himself. He should not want to be right here in Doc's arms.

But he did.

Something about him waking seemed to rouse Doc, who took a deep breath. Grian hastily snapped his eyes shut and tried to look like he was still asleep. Just to see what Doc would do.

Probably unceremoniously dump Grian off his lap and directly onto the floor with a shout of protest.

Grian tried not to tense up at the thought of that, bracing for impact before it even started.

But he felt...

Doc's hand in his hair?

The organic hand. Gently twirling one of Grian's loose curls around his fingers.

"I know you're awake, pesky bird," Doc said quietly. Almost singsong. Almost threatening.

Grian didn't respond, still trying to pretend to be asleep.

Doc hummed in thought. His rumbling chuckle was quiet.

He scooped Grian up as he stood from the bed before setting Grian on the mattress on his side, readjusting the blankets to cover him instead of being wrapped around them both.

"You're a menace. But... you're no longer in danger of freezing to death," he murmured as he tucked the blankets under Grian's chin and headed toward the door. The rustling of his crisp lab coat being picked up and put back on was audible.

His footsteps got farther away.

Grian should let it happen.

He should let Doc leave.

He should—

"Wait! Doc, wait!"

He sat bolt upright in bed, his feathers puffing up. His eyes were wide.

Doc paused a step away from reaching the doorway, prosthetic on the doorframe. He turned. "Hm?"

Grian threw off the covers and bounded out of bed. He felt uncomfortably exposed, being in front of Doc in just his underwear. His wings folded around himself a bit to keep himself a bit more modest. Grian wasn't Scar—he'd never really been much one for showing skin.

He put himself between Doc and the door. He never got over how tall Doc was. It almost wasn't fair. Doc and Mumbo were around the same height but Doc was so much more imposing.

Grian's puffed up wings filled most of the space of the door frame, even draped around him as they were.

But now that he was here, he had no idea what to say. What to do. Why he didn't want... whatever this was... to end.

Doc's butterfly wings opened and closed before folding back down against his spine. He was giving Grian an expectant look. Waiting for whatever Grian was going to say.

Grian inhaled sharply. "Look," he began, brain working fast but still so, so groggy from being sleepy. "I know you and I have a bad track record of letting bygones be bygones with one another. I... I admit I probably deserve it. We always want to escalate. Get back at one another. Break even if we can't get one over on the other." He worried his lower lip between his teeth for a second. "I just... after this... er... whatever tally sheet you're keeping score with... add... seven. To whatever you're beating me by. Add seven more."

Doc's cybernetic eye whirred softly as the lens adjusted and refocused. "Seven?"

Grian blinked a few times. "Er... admittedly I was just pulling out a random number." He began to count on his fingers. "Pulling me out of the river. Flying me home. Getting me out of my wet clothes. Getting me something dry to change into and my blankets. Drying my wings and hair. Sharing your body heat with me well into the night until I wasn't at risk of hypothermia anymore." Grian scrunched his eyebrows.

"That's six," Doc pointed out.

Grian looked up from his fingers to meet Doc's gaze. "Help me preen my wings? Make it seven? I can't... I struggle to reach the feathers closest to my spine even with my brush. And you obviously know how to handle Avian wings." He cleared his throat. "Please."

Doc regarded him thoughtfully. For a long time.

Some tension eased out of his shoulders. "Very well," he said. "But first, you're going to get in the shower. You smell like river water."

Grian sniffed his feathers—and wrinkled his nose. Doc was right. Yuck.

He bounced on the balls of his feet for a second. "Don't go anywhere," he said.

Doc hummed in acknowledgment as Grian rushed to his bathroom.

He took a warm shower and scrubbed river water from his skin, hair, and feathers until he stopped smelling it. His wings got waterlogged again, but this time it wasn't so bad.

Bird wings weren't typically supposed to be cleaned with soap unless they were properly mucky. Usually a rinse with water and some preening oil was all they needed. But Grian broke out his wing shampoo to get out the gunk of river water.

Once he was fully clean, he got out of the shower and hastily dried his skin and hair, pulling on a thin dressing gown.

He grabbed his preening brush and extra vial of oil (in case the amount from his glands wasn't enough) and went out into the main room.

Doc had stayed. Grian had kept his shower as short as possible in case Doc's patience had run out. But Doc was still there. Looking out a window. "Impressive wheat field," he said. "I can't imagine the bread is a good food source for you."

Grian snorted. "It's just there for aesthetic, really," he said. "Which doesn't stop Mumbo or Scar from stealing some of it to make packed mud. But it's meant to be there for visual appeal. Not for bread."

Doc eyed him over one shoulder and bounced his eyebrows.

Grian flapped a little excess water from his wings and began to preen them with the brush. He had a lot of practice, preening his wings. He could preen the feathers close to his spine. It was just difficult and uncomfortable. Always easier when someone else did it. Even if that someone was a friend who was also a... rival.

"Rival" sounded nicer than "enemy" and Grian and Doc never truly hated each other.

Doc's eyes tracked the movements of Grian's preening brush, singularly focused on it. Grian fought down a blush at being so closely observed.

When he reached the parts he struggled with most, he held the brush out for Doc. "Please?" he asked.

"Turn. Give me your back."

Grian nodded. Doc took the brush and Grian turned around.

He couldn't help the shudder that cascaded down his spine that always came with someone else preening his wings. Not quite a tickle, but an involuntary response to vulnerability. Avians were well-known for being flighty—pun not intended, but also kind of intended—and trusting someone with their wings was often pretty difficult, no matter how well they knew the other person.

But Doc managed to spread the preening oil over Grian's wings with only the brush. Never once touching the feathers with either organic or cybernetic hand.

Which...

Come to think of it...

He'd never touched Grian's wings with his bare hands when he'd been toweling them dry either.

The only time he had touched Grian's wings with his bare hands was when he'd been folding them up against Grian's back to be able to fly them back to Grian's base without the wings dragging. Something that could be considered more of an urgent situation.

"Who taught you Avian customs?" Grian asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"You're not touching my wings with your hands. Who taught you about that?"

"No one. But I know wings are sensitive. No matter whether they're Avian, angel, demon, dragon... or insect." His butterfly wings fluttered a bit and folded back. "A sensitive subject, rather. And it's rude to touch them without permission."

Grian suppressed a shudder but still peeked over his shoulder. "It's a little more than rude for Avians," he said softly. Doc hummed in acknowledgment—and maybe a bit of curiosity. "It's intimate."

Doc's movements slowed and became even more deliberate. Careful not to touch the feathers. Grian's shoulders slouched just a bit, causing his wings to lower. What was that sensation in his chest? A strange sort of... tightness. Grian had never been the best at understanding what emotions he was feeling—or, at least, putting labels on them.

Disappointment?

Wh... why? Why would he be disappointed that Doc was being careful not to touch his wings? If anything, he should be grateful. Considering their tempestuous relationship, Grian should be expecting Doc to grab a handful of feathers and tear them out. Even if he knew Doc really wasn't that callous or cruel.

"You can, you know," Grian said, the words falling out of his mouth before he thought them through.

"What?" Doc asked.

"Touch them." His brain finally caught up and he scrambled to amend, "I mean. You're helping me out. If your fingers accidentally brush up against a feather from a wonky brush angle, I'm not gonna assume you're coming onto me or something."

Doc grunted acknowledgment. "Okay," he said.

Grian reached back where he felt one of his feathers was loose and plucked it out with a little hiss of irritation. Plucking feathers hurt a little worse than plucking hairs when they were loose.

The feather was bedraggled and almost broken. Grian made a face and tossed it to the floor so he could throw it in the bin later.

Doc's brush strokes stopped. "There you go. I think I got all of it."

"Thank you. I really appreciate the hand." He turned around to take the brush from Doc—

Only to realize how close Doc was standing to him. His heart rate began to thud in his chest. Doc's cybernetic eye's lens adjusted to focus on Grian's face.

Grian knew he should take a step back. He should reach out for the brush and let Doc get back to whatever grind he'd been taking a brief break from when he'd been strolling the shopping district's river bank. He should ignore the way his own breathing was coming in shallower. The urge he was fighting to look down at Doc's mouth. The urge to step up onto something taller to close the distance between their heads. He shouldn't even think about leaning closer...

But Doc also wasn't stepping back either. Just staring down at Grian with his organic pupil dilated from the darkness.

The darkness. Right. That was why. That was the only reason.

Grian couldn't help it—his wings shivered.

He cleared his throat a little. "Thank you for staying," he said quietly. "I owe you... seven."

The corner of Doc's mouth quirked, but didn't become a full smile. "Many more than that, pesky bird," he replied.

"Seven more," Grian corrected. "More than what I already owed you."

Doc hummed with another almost-smile. "I'll add them to the list." His horns were gleaming in the light from the torches that lit Grian's cliffside house. Pristinely polished, as always.

Not that Grian was noticing.

Doc definitely wasn't noticing the shiny luster of Grian's freshly-preened feathers either. Not at all.

They just stared at each other for a few charged seconds. Sharing space. Sharing heat. Grian still mostly undressed but not really noticing or caring.

He swallowed lightly.

"I... might have a way for you to settle one of those," Doc said quietly.

"Oh?"

"Mmhmm."

"What did you have in mind?" Grian asked.

Doc contemplated him for a moment, head tilting just slightly to one side. "An experiment," he said.

"What... what sort of experiment?"

Doc reached up with his organic hand, his forefinger curled a little farther forward than the rest of his fingers and his thumb raised a bit, hovering under Grian's chin but not yet touching.

Grian's heart was pounding so hard he could feel it trying to escape his ribcage.

"May I... kiss you?" Doc's voice was low and soft. Difficult to hear over the roaring of Grian's blood in his ears.

His breathing sped up just a bit. Making his response breathless and quiet. "Please."

Doc gently pinched his chin. His fingernail was long enough to brush the line where his lower lip met the rest of his skin. Doc bent down as Grian's head automatically tilted opposite Doc's for the best angle.

He couldn't help the way his pinions flapped—almost in excitement—when their lips met.

Doc's were warm and ever-so-slightly chapped.

Grian felt like electricity was zinging through his blood. His heart was pounding even harder and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He released a sigh of contentment out his nose and leaned.

He reached up and wrapped his arms around Doc's neck to bring himself just that little bit closer.

Doc's chuckle rumbled in his chest and out his nose. "Pesky little bird is greedy, hmm?" he asked quietly against Grian's lips. His hands—big, strong, warm—both moved to cup Grian's hips.

Grian rolled his body to be closer. "Always. Thought you'd've figured that out by now," he replied just as quietly. Which earned him another chuckle.

Doc put a little pressure on Grian until he was forced to take a step back, his legs brushing his bed. "Want me to give you more?"

Grian snickered. "I'll just steal it if I do," he whispered mischievously.

Doc huffed in irritation and used his grip on Grian's hips to nudge him backward. He flopped, somewhat gracelessly, onto the bed. Breaking his grip around Doc's neck. "Pesky bird," Doc accused. But he was smiling. A hungry, sultry smile that made Grian's heart hammer.

Grian couldn't help but smirk. "Grumpy goat," he retorted.

Doc bent forward and planted one hand on Grian's chest, pushing him to lie down on the bed. "Ohhh... we're definitely settling something tonight," he said. His tone would have been threatening if it wasn't so full of desire.

"I dare you," Grian said.

Doc climbed onto the bed properly. He loomed over Grian as he kissed him again. His voice low against Grian's lips as he said, "Hold on tight, pesky bird. This experiment isn't over."

[a-coffee-addict-613]

Cold hands - Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader, a short fic

Summary : reader's hands are cold and Ghost is tired of hearing her complain about it, so he offers to warm them up for her so she will shut up; except he gets more than he expected...

CW: smut, that's it; oh and bad language

"It's cold as hell," she whispered into the night. Ghost stood beside her; they were both keeping watch while the others slept in their tents a bit farther behind them.

"Freaking hell, my hands are like ice blocks, I'm freezing," she said shortly after her last comment. This had been going on for a while; she had been constantly complaining about being cold, or at least that was how Ghost was experiencing it.

"Stop complaining," he said, short and cold, almost like an order, cutting through the air.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not trained for this stuff like you guys, so I have the right to complain," she huffed, trying to bury her nose underneath her scarf.

"That's not how it works," he replied with a sigh.

After that, she did not say anything more, but she was still getting on Ghost's nerves because she couldn't keep still, rocking up and down on her heels, pacing around, and constantly blowing on her hands to try to warm them up.

Ghost let out an inaudible groan and begrudgingly said, "If I find a way to warm you up a bit, will you shut up and stop moving?" He didn't even deign himself to look at her.

"Dude, if you do that, I think I'd marry you," she laughed, blowing on her hands for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Just stop," he said, and with that, he grabbed one of her wrists and guided it to his abdomen where he had lifted up his shirt. After all, body heat is the most efficient way to warm up.

She hesitated, even if she was yearning to put her hands on Ghost's perfect abs. "Are you sure...?" she mumbled, looking up at Ghost. They were so close now; she had never stood so close to Ghost in a non-combat way.

He did not answer, only hummed and tugged on her wrist again, still in his grasp, to bring it even closer to his bare skin. She did not hesitate this time; she splayed both hands on his hot skin, and she could not contain herself; his warmth thawed out her fingers almost instantly, and a small sigh of relief escaped her mouth.

He couldn't help but smile at the way she sighed when his warmth reached her hands, despite the shiver that coursed through his body. He was glad the mask hid his smile; he couldn't afford a distraction like her, even if she *was* a pretty distraction.

"Hurry," he huffed out instead, the sooner she was done, the sooner he would be rid of her hold on him, one he couldn't seem to shake off.

"Fine, fine," she all but brushed him off. She moved her hands further up, grazing his ribs, searching for warmer skin. This time, she felt the chill that crossed his skin. Little did she know that it was not the cold that made him shiver.

"Careful," his voice cut through the air; it had a dangerous undertone that made her look up and look into his eyes for the first time since they started this whole thing.

This time, it was she who did not answer; she simply decided to head in the opposite direction. And so, ever so slowly, she slid her hand back down to their starting place, but she did not stop there; she continued further down, over his V. She did all this while maintaining eye contact with Ghost, a bold move because, honestly, he could be quite intimidating.

She kept going, allowing her hand to fall to his belt. After two beats of hesitation and due to the fact that Ghost remained unmoving, she unbuckled his belt, popped open his pants, and slithered her hands inside. Inside his boxers, not his pants.

Upon her still freezing hands making contact with his soft cock and balls, which she cupped with both hands, it broke Ghost's stone-cold demeanor. He hissed loudly and let out, "That's freezing, Doc," his British accent thicker than usual.

"I'm just following your orders, Lieutenant," she answered cheekily, her eyes holding a mischievous smile. She used one of her now warm hands to cup his balls while the other traveled to wrap around his cock, which was now not so soft. She began stroking it leisurely, slowly making it harder by the second, her hand squeezing his head each time her fist traveled up, her thumb stroking it every time.

"You are playing a dangerous game," Ghost whispered, but despite his words, he brought both hands up to rest on her hips.

"My hands are warm now, but.... I think that my lips are cold; maybe you could help me with that too..." she murmured, a small smile on her face, as if she wasn't asking permission to do such an obscene thing.

There was a small silence, one where Ghost was having an inner struggle, but eventually his non-logical brain won, and with a groan, he said, "Be quick about it."

She did not need him to say it twice; she dropped to her knees, no longer caring about the cold ground hitting her knees. All she cared about was finally doing something that she had fantasized about for so long.

A/N : part 2 is posted !

[starlight-incarnate]

House of Feänor as Aesthetics:

Fëanor  —  loud voice, commanding presence, analytical, natural leader, piercing eyes, foggy hillsides, black boots, tipping their head back to breathe the air, mirrored lakes and everything below the surface, tearing leaves from trees, blunt sarcasm, long dark hair, deep sleeper, rotting tree stumps, black leather jacket, songs that makes you want to create a storm, rebellious, ambition, unstoppable passion, fast trains, polaroids, empty castles.

Maedhros — walking silently, stronger due to all the stuff meant to kill them, ignoring their mental health issues, fiery red hair, crumbling marble, oversized hoodies, raw voice, lingering touches, faint music in the distance, calming down from a panic attack, long heavy cloaks, cold hands, disillusioned with the world, insomnia, unhealthy habits, sighs made visible by cold night air, strong hugs, never sleeps, loud music, freckles, dark under-eyes.

Maglor — hypnotising smiles, a broken mind, melancholy, driving through mountains and the woods, iced coffee, the faint feeling of raindrops on your cheeks, ripped jeans, tight hugs, whispered compliments, deep conversations, late night texts, nimble hands, thin blades, white lilies, vertigo, unkept journals, lightning and thunder, rhythms so raw the heartbreak is showing, shattered glass, walking alone on a cold night, silver necklaces, regret.

Celegorm — bright eyes, climbing rock formations, cold-hearted, hard breathing after running, wood cabins, gladiator arenas, wicked smiles, twisted branches, wild hair, growing more and more dangerous, night drives, adrenaline rushes, bruises, bloody cloaks, running from society, breathless laughing, that animalistic unpredictability, silver and leather bracelets, strong coffee after a sleepless night, city lights from a high rise, addiction, barking dogs, hurricanes.

Caranthir — ironic smirks, bitten nails painted black, lightning in summer, empty threats, sunglasses hiding dead eyes, thick chain jewellery, temperamental, goes to car races just to watch the crashes, deep glares, tongue/lip piercings, midnight walks, lightbulbs burning out, diamonds, crushed ice, a glint of cat eyes in the dark, gold coins in storm drains, cold hands, storm clouds rolling in, theatres, suppressed emotions, wrought iron gates, motorcycles. 

Curufin — cherries and Diet Coke, white marble, a studio apartment on the 67th floor, tattoos, neon lights, sweetened coffee, smudged makeup, too-loud music, cursive notes written in red ink, veiny forearms, sharp canines, fresh snowfall, high rise buildings, white light, sheer robes with nothing underneath, fog, stained glass windows, colourful hair, slow heartbeats, long-forgotten love, cold mountaintops, eternal silence.

Amrod — burnished copper, feverish eyes, hues of orange and gold, stars and spades, brewing tea, freckles, hardwood floors, poisonous flowers, listens to Hozier, messy hair, fake circle glasses, bullet point notes on a restaurant napkin, comfortable silence, broken wings on insects, old hungers, the whispering of trees, kicking stones on deserted paths, forgotten places, origami stars, old overgrown stone castles, morning mist, horse riding.

Amras  —  misplaced keys, wandering aimlessly, selectively mute, deep lakes hiding secrets, pine trees, restless nights, misunderstood, reliving the same day over and over again, graphic tees, dead moths, visual mind, muffled screams into a pillow, listens to asmr, doc martens, profanity, burned cigarettes, zoning out often, heart fluttering nervously, confusing satellites for stars, comic filled bookshelves, radios, old jeeps, glowing keyboards.

Celebrimbor — ravens, white-hot metal, the darkest shade of black, glittering skin, low waist pants, stars & shiny things, petals falling off dead flowers, trusting the wrong people, blue veins, cobblestone paths, linoleum tiles, bruises/scars easily, the heat lingering in the evening, cities awake late, card games, overanalysing everything, shiny fabrics, the slamming of a shot glass, the sting of betrayal.

[presidentofthelipglossclub]

GUESS WHO'S BIRTHDAY IT IS!!

in honor of my birthday here are some more rescue bots headcanons!!

they (as in constructed rescue bots) have extra color receptors which allows them to see more types of light than other bots, as well as advanced hearing (they’re also the only bots with noses so they have an extra sense)

all of them have outliers (its a requirement to be a rescue bot)

blurr changed his paint job (post s4, before he showed up in rid15) because heatwave and blades basically bullied him into it

the academy where they studied was on a moon of cybertron’s, and they actually spent very little time on cybertron itself. it was sorta like a field trip spot, and they went very infrequently

quickshadow was the academy's champion shot, and she won a bunch of competitions

the rescue bots all had specialties outside of what they actually did (heatwave was a history nerd, boulder studied xenobiology, blades took journalism, chase did psychology, quickshadow was a data analyst, hightide took astronomy)

hightide was actually friends with both orion pax and megatronus separately before they realized they all knew each other

in that same vein, servo and lazerbeak were longtime friends because they grew up together

optimus is so ridiculously tolerant towards whatever the rescue bots do that they actually have a running bet on how much they can get away with before optimus gets angry (he never once has)

blurr's reputation as most annoying bot ever has been intact since way before the war when he was a racer

blades got his name through an awkward mishap at an armory that heatwave never let him live down

related to that, all the rescue bots' "names" are really more of nicknames. their names are listed on documents but their primary identification is through serial numbers because they're cold constructs

boulder had a practically bullet proof reputation at the academy as the perfect student so whenever the others wanted to get away with something they always involved him

when salvage heard about DIY's he got super into them and started making tons of pointless stuff. he never even followed the good channels, only stuff like troom troom

chase succumbs to peer pressure ridiculously easy

heatwave gives really good advice but only on accident

quickshadow and hightide like to hang out and trash talk optimus whenever he does something they don't like

blades only has field medicine training, he's not cleared for any actual treatment outside of an emergency (he can do first aid and EMT stuff but can't, like, prescribe things or do surgery). this has not stopped him from trying things though.

salvage is actually from one of cybertron's colony worlds, but he grew up on cybertron

ok here's a fun little surprise in honor of my birthday: the humans are also included in headcanons!!

kade was actually very good at gymnastics, he just got bored of it

chief burns needs glasses but he prefers to wear contacts

dani had a very extreme scene core phase, and her hairstyle is a remnant of that

frankie has super high government security clearance as a super genius and daughter of one of the world's best scientists, so she knows all kinds of military secrets

doc greene and chief burns met in childhood, doc's family moved away, and then when he got older he moved back to griffin rock and reunited with the chief

graham is the biggest night owl because of college. sometimes, when he has trouble falling asleep, the bots invite him to movie night and they all watch reruns of old movies or shows

building off that, there are two kinds of movie night: the first is with the whole burns family, rescue team, and sometimes others such as optimus or the greenes. the second is less of a movie night and more of a "we need something to do while the humans are sleeping, let's watch trashy tv all night." this kind of movie night is really just the bots (minus whoever has night shift)

professor baranova actually used to be pretty upbeat, although she was a bit misunderstood because she's neurodivergent (i also headcanon that after the whole living underwater for 28 years thing she developed DID and multiple alters to cope with the loneliness, so she's now a system)

woodrow and optimus are in a qpr. optimus refers to him as his amica, and also privately thinks of him as his human partner

doc greene at some point developed a working synthetic energon formula completely independently. when ratchet first met him (post war, probably right before he was hired to work at the rescue academy) and learned about this he lost his shit

bumblebee and dani race together all the time when he visits

this is where i'm gonna stop this post, because it's pretty late for me lol. it was my birthday today, so happy birthday to me!!

also y'all PLEASE talk to me abt any of these headcanons i will be thrilled to elaborate!

[alexa-yukiyu]

Hey, hey you know about the work of yours nezuko!reader x Ace x whiteboard. Where nezuko was Ace sister.

How about how Ace actually met nezuko!reader?

Like when Ace was a child, did he meet her when it was snowing? Or were they already siblings, and she just became a demon? Your choice really, I just need more child!Ace withchild!reader

Demonic Origins (Spade pirates x nezuko!reader)

Part 1, part 2, you are reading the prequel

A/N ayoooo we are eating this nezuko!reader one’s! Just like all the other nezuko one’s I had fun with this one, im not sure if it’s as good as the other one’s though so I will leave it up to you to decide

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for Reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc characters readers!

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

“Alright, we can stop here for the night,” Ace called as they made their way into the grand cave the group stumbled upon

Because of Ace’s Devil fruit’s abilities, he couldn’t count on his own body to measure the cold, which would be fine were he traveling alone, but as a Captain, he had to look out for his crew, which led him to develop a keen eye for when his crew were in need of a break and shelter from the harsh weather. Something that he could see from the way they started to lag behind, their legs struggling to move forward across the snow, and their faces unable to focus on the path as they attempted to protect it from any possible frostbite. Seeing this, Ace was quick to call a rest stop lest he lost them to the blizzard.

“Blimey!” Banshee huffed out

“Waz beginnin to think mai legs were missin'! Can’t ivin feel em anymore, im knackered!” she whined, letting a frown as she saw the judging look the lynx sent her way.

“Doun’t look at me like that, Kotetsu you lil' nutter! Easy for you to judge; you were next to e heater the hole way,” she called, gesturing to the feline’s close proximity to the Captain.

“Here, Boss,” Saber called as he finished placing a small pile of dry wood in the middle of the cave, with the crew circling it in anticipation.

“Ah, Thank you, Saber!” he laughed, kneeling next to the stack, and snapped his fingers, watching as the small spark that left his fingers quickly ignited the campfire. Standing up, he heard the satisfied sounds the crew let out as the warmth of the fire slowly spread through the cave.

“I’m Sorry, guys. I didn’t notice it was that cold,” he apologized sheepishly, scratching his neck nervously.

“Don’t worry, Boss, it’s hard to get cold when you’re made of fire, isn’t it?” Ganryu cackled, gaining a few chuckles and similar teases from the rest of the crew

“Hahaha! I’ve never felt cold since I ate it!” he stated proudly.

“Still, this blizzard is quite strong,” Skull piped in, looking towards the cave entrance. A white screen greeted him, as strong winds crashed against the bamboo, littering the entrance, with various pieces caving in and snapping under the pressure.

“Yeah…the snow has already buried everything. I’m glad I managed to get some samples of the flora before the blizzard blew it away; I saw some flowers that might have potential in medicine.”

“You gouing to add it to that rubbish story of yours, Dak?!” Banshee cut in with a loud laugh

“Ha! No way Doc! You could call it the magical blue flower, the flower that saved the Spade pirates,” Finamore mocked, joining in on the fun at the expense of the masked man.

“…”

“That’s enough; leave him be,” Mihar scolded, sending a disappointed look to the two.

“Sorry! Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” Finamore snickered, sounding very far from apologetic about his actions.

Ace frowned, noticing the doctor’s growing frustration and embarrassment at the taunts, but before he could scold his subordinates, his head snapped to the side at the sound of rocks sliding down, small pebbles falling onto the floor close to them, his head quickly shooting towards the lynx next to him as he began yowling and hissing in the direction of the disturbance.

“Kotetsu?”

“It’s probably an animal boss, but regardless, be careful; animals become much more dangerous when they are cornered,” Skull called back to the Captain from his spot at the campfire, knowing the man was more than capable of taking care of the animal.

“Well, looks like the cave came with Dinner included!” Ace grinned, approaching the source of the sound

“Boss, look out!”

Ace’s eyes widened as the animal launched itself towards him, causing them both to crash on the ground, rolling around as each tried to overpower the other until they eventually came to an impasse with the other person on top of Ace as they both attempted to push the other off.

Ace took this moment to take the person in; it was, in fact, a person, but Ace doubted her to be human if the snake-like eyes and horns were anything to go by. It wasn’t this that threw Ace off; it wasn’t her veins that pulsated in anger or the sharp fangs that threatened to sink into his skin, nor was it the sharp claws that he was currently trying to push away that threw him off; it was the fact that it was a girl, human or not, what had attacked them was a child.

“Tch,” he growled, managing to overpower her and push her off, watching as she skidded away using her hands to maintain her balance, growling at him on all fours as she pushed herself forward and jumped towards him once again, this time with one of her legs raised high. Ace had barely enough time to parry the hit, raising his arms in an L shape next to his head with one of his hands raised to protect his face as the other one rose to grab the kick that she sent down, groaning at the force of the hit but managing to keep himself upright as the force pushed him back.

“What are you?” he huffed out as she wasted no time to go in for another hit, her fist aiming for his face as he ducked to the side.

“I’m sorry about this!” He called as he ran to her,crouching as she attempted to take the opportunity to attack again. He positioned himself behind her, extending his arm out and bringing it down on her neck, causing her to slump down; catching her before her body crashed on the ground, he let out a sigh.

“What the hell just happened?” he questioned, looking up at the crew’s shocked stares, the campfire, and its long-forgotten warmth as they tried to take in what had just occurred.

“Thats…. That a demon,” Skull muttered, approaching his Captain, the girl resting against him

“I heard about this race on one of the travel logs I read a while ago, a race that had been nearly wiped out by a sudden inflection that caused the person to become…demonic.”

“I think I've heard about that too. The infliction suddenly spread among them, and the marine wiped them out, saying that they were beyond help.”

“So what you’re saying is that all that happened just happened because of a sickness?” he gaped out, looking at his officers as they slowly nodded their heads.

“What are you going to do?” Mihar questioned looking up at Ace

“We’re not going to kill her, are we? She’s just a kid…”

Ace shook his head at this as if even having the thought repulsed him.

“We’re going to help her.”

“So, how did we end up like this again?” Ace cried as he avoided another hit the now-awoken girl had thrown his way. Ace barreled towards her, taking hold of her arms, and pushed her to the ground; holding her as she tried to break free.

“Hey!” He called, scowling as she showed no hints of having heard him.

“Hey!” He yelled

“You’re in there, aren’t you?! So, snap out of it! You must be scared, right?

If what Deu said is right, you lost your family; I’m sorry. I can’t do anything to get them back for you, but I want to help you, so you need to calm down!” He boomed, pausing as he noticed her struggles had changed, rather than the sudden jerks and bucks from before, there was just trembling. Looking down at her, he slowly let go of her as he noticed the slight dampness on the ground, accompanied by cries that echoed around the cave.

He backed away from her, opting to sit on the ground beside her as she slowly rose, tight fists trying to wipe down the cascade of tears that now filled her eyes as loud wails and hiccups escaped her.

“Hey…” he frowned as she continued sobbing. Her howling reminded him of his own brother when they were smaller, back when the youngest would cry at the slightest sight of danger. With this memory in mind, he crawled toward the girl and pulled her towards him, enveloping her in a tight hug as he began cradling her.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay. I swear on my honor that I will find a cure for you,” he vowed, placing his head on top of hers and rubbing her back. His eyes snapped towards Mihar as the man approached him, smiling at him and, sitting next to him and, joined in the efforts to soothe the girl. Seeing this, Skull and Deuce shared a glance before they joined the wailing girl until, eventually, slowly, all of the crew followed suit, forming a circle around her and their Captain.

“Trés bien! What do you zhink Dokucha?” Cornelia gushed, looking at the young girl and examining her outfit happily.

“Din’t know you were good with the needle,” Ace gaped, watching as the girl ran in circles around the deck, her hands falling behind as she did

“Hmhp, you barbarians simply do not appreciate a good outfit if it hits you in ze face,” he scoffed, straightening his coat as he spoke.

Dokucha grinned, the action slightly hidden behind the bamboo that she now held between her teeth as she further analyzed her new clothes. Once satisfied, she ran towards the man, wrapping her hands around his legs.

“Are you trying to say zanks?” He questioned as he crouched down to her high, grinning when she nodded

“It was nothing! Mon Cherri!” He beamed, hugging the girl close, watching as she made her way towards his Captain. She jumped into Ace’s lap, scrambling to straighten herself.

“She sure is lively,” Mihar smiled, watching as she began drumming her hands on Ace’s thigh in a nonsensical pattern. Her eyes closed, and her mouth quirked up in what he could only guess would be a grin.

“She is! It reminds me of my kid brother! All around the place!" he grinned watching as she made her way off his lap and onto the next form of entertainment, this time on Kotatsu as the small feline took a hold of her scrub and launched her in the air, only for her to land on his back as he began walking her around the deck, muffled giggles and purrs escaping the pair.

“Looks like you have your first student, too, Mihar!” Ace grinned, standing up and patting his shoulder as they watched her raise her arms, he feeling the wind passing her as Kotetsu began running.

“I think things are about to get much better from here!” He called as he ran after Kotetsu, letting out a cackle as the feline sprinted away from him with Dokucha holding on tightly to the lynx’s scruff

Also guys im nervous what happens when I start work or get busy, will I get writers block again? Will I have to go to weekly updates 😫 I don wanna!

[gold-dustwomxn]

mystified

part 2

summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

each chapter will have their own warnings please read them! eventual smut

cw: mentions of child abuse and implication of attempted sexual assault (does not go into detail for either), panic attack

fluff and angst

light rocking against your shoulder and a distant call of your name pulls you from your deep slumber making you groan, not conscious enough to take in where you are. “hey sleepyhead, wake up.” ellie’s raspy whisper has you cracking one eye open. you’re too tired to even speak or think coherently, making you hum in question.

ellie chuckles and looks at you for a moment before speaking. “sorry to wake you up so early.. I gotta be at the construction site in an hour.” you blink away your remnants of sleep and realize ellie has damp hair, is fully dressed for the day and the sun isn’t even up yet. “it’s okay. sorry I fell asleep here I didn’t even realize.” she smiles softly, “no worries, I don’t mind. you looked pretty comfy..I can drive you home on my way to work.”

the short drive to your house shares a peaceful, comfortable silence between you and ellie. the sky painting a breathtaking winter sunrise of pinks and purple. ellie pulls up to your house way too quickly for your liking, the small disappointment of having to part ways felt in your chest.

“thanks for the ride and letting me crash at your place.. I had fun last night.”

“me too,” she smiles and you feel that warmth settle deep in your stomach again. it’s a rarity to see her full smile “it’s no problem, really.. are you busy tonight?”

“no, I don’t think I have anything going on.” you know you don’t actually have anything going on. you bite the inside of your cheek to try to suppress a smile, but ellie looks between your eyes and down at your mouth and smirks at you. caught.

“well, if you’re not busy later you wanna hang out? I get off at 3, we can go to a cafe or something.” she clears her throat and you can see how physically painful this is for her. she forces herself to keep eye contact though.

you giggle and she narrows her eyes at you playfully, unspoken words and body language received between the both of you. “yeah, I’m down. just text me when you get off.”

“alright cool I can pick you up. see you later, ___.”

me: DINA wake the fuck up!!!!!

dina🤍: bitch its literally 7am why tf are u disturbing me

me: wow. anyway! last night I was walking to ur house and some creepy dude pulls up next to me asking me for directions and shit acting super sketchy. ellie pulls up out of nowhere and goes all psycho ellie mode and pulls out a fucking switchblade. I was like 😦 but it was also so hot. he skids off and she gets pics of his plates and we go back to her place for joel to deal with it. he thinks the cops can keep an eye out for that car and see if that guy has anything to do with the assaults happening. it was lowkey really scary but I’m okay. we ended up smoking and talking for hours and it was literally perfect and then we ended up falling asleep and I woke up in the middle of the night laying ON HER CHEST with her arm around me. we’re hanging out again tonight

dina🤍: wtf that’s so fucking scary! im glad ur okay:( but ommg im so excited for u angel. its ab damn time some moves are made and we can go on double dates tg hehe

me: ok let’s not get ahead of ourselves here we’ll see what happens. that’s all I wanted to tell u. ur allowed to go back to sleep now:)

dina🤍: wow how gracious of u. lmk how everything goes though <33

clothes are strewn all over your bed and floor, while you frantically try to find a cute outfit to wear. it’s fine, it’s just ellie. she’s seen you a million times since you were both 14. you finally settle on a pair of jeans and a black sweater, with your chelsea doc martens. good enough.

ellie🌿🗡️: Hey, I’m outside whenever you’re ready.

me: be right there!

okay, just breathe. everything’s fine!

as you hop into the passenger seat, ellie looks you up and down. “you look good.” you give her a shy smile and observe her; hair tied half up, in a dark green flannel with an oversized black denim jacket, black jeans with her usual pair of converse, multiple rings on her long fingers, and the scent of her woodsy cologne. “thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” she smiles and shakes her head, pulling out of your driveway.

“yeah, he almost dropped a whole fucking plank of wood on my head today!”

you start laughing, walking out of the coffee shop together. “maybe the hit would’ve done you good, ellie. you are very hard headed.” ellie’s jaw drops “wow, someone’s feisty today, huh?” you smile and roll your eyes, going to shove her and she catches your wrist, pulling you close to her. your breath hitches and you look down at her lips. something behind you catches ellie’s attention, her smile dropping instantly and face turning ghostly pale.

“ellie? what’s wrong?” she grabs your hand and walks you quickly to the car, opening your door to make sure you get in first before frantically hopping into her seat and speeding out of the parking lot.

“hey, what’s going on?” she shakes her head and doesn’t respond, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, eyebrows scrunched together.

the speed of her driving and her concerning behavior is stressing you the fuck out. she pulls up to her house and lets you both in before she runs up the stairs to the bathroom, whipping the door shut with a loud slam.

you slowly walk up the stairs, not knowing whether or not to give her privacy. you suddenly hear her crying and hyperventilating. “ellie, I’m coming in.”

ellie is seated on the floor next to the tub with her head between her legs, forearms laid on her knees. “hey, hey I’m here. can I touch you?” she nods and you gently take her hand, softly rubbing the back of her palm while you place her other hand against your chest. “try to follow my breathing, okay?” you take slow, deep breaths for her to follow until she calms down.

“I’m sorry.” she avoids looking at you. “no, I’m here for you, okay? you don’t have to hide from me.” she wipes the rest of her tears from her eyes and nods. you move to sit next to her and gently rub her back, still holding her hand.

“do you wanna talk about it?” she clears her throat and looks straight ahead. “I uh… saw one of my old foster parents. he was pretty fucked up,” she lets out a dry laugh. “thought I was over it but I didn’t expect to see him.”

“what did he do?” she looks at you in contemplation before looking away with a cold, steely gaze. she sniffs and nods, “he… used to beat the shit out of me all the time for no reason.” she looks down at her scarred tattoo and rubs the skin. “this burn… he tried to-“ she clenches her jaw and shakes her head. “anyway, I managed to get away before he did anything, but I ended up burning my arm on the stove in the midst of it all. tried to press charges but that didn’t work, big shocker,” she scoffs. “I ran away and refused to go back so they placed me with joel and he eventually adopted me.”

she looks back up at you, trying to gauge what you’re thinking. you don’t realize you’re crying until she wipes away a tear from your cheek. “hey, don’t cry it was a long time ago I was just… not prepared for all of that.”

“sorry, I just hate that you had to go through all of that, especially at such a young age.” she lets out a deep breath and nods. “sorry our date got ruined” she gives you a sad smile.

“it wasn’t,” you squeeze her hand “I had a good time and I’m just glad I was able to be here with you.” you look up in thought, “do you have brownie mix?” she looks at you in confusion and lets out a small laugh “uh, I dunno, why?” “whenever I’m sad or going through something, I like to bake because it gives me something to do to take my mind off of everything and brownies are fucking good.” you nod with conviction. ellie laughs, “you are so fucking cute. c’mon let’s go see if I have some brownie mix.”

as you mix the chocolatey batter, and hum to the song playing on the speaker, ellie leans against the counter and watches you. she loves the domesticity and warmth you surround her with, and you were right, doing all of this is making her feel better.

“are you just gonna stand there and stare at me or are you gonna help?” “nah I think I’m good right here” she smirks at you. you nod slowly and look at her with mischief, holding up the spoon. her eyes widen and she points her finger at you, “don’t you fucking dare.”

you chase ellie around the kitchen island, out of breath from laughing and she ends up slipping on her sock, grabbing onto the counter for balance. as you run up to her and try to smear the batter on her face, she grabs your arm. you struggle against her, making you trip over her leg and she catches you, wrapping her arms around your waist. both of your laughters fade into small smiles as both of your eyes trails to each other’s lips. ellie’s face becomes serious as she leans in, lips ghosting yours. the sound of the front door opening has you both abruptly backing away from each other. fucking joel.

“hey kiddo, what are y’all up to?” ellie’s face is beet red and she clears her throat, “just making some brownies. why are you home?” ellie’s voice holds a bit of an edge to it.

“well, damn, I’ll get outta your hair in a minute, just stoppin’ by, forgot to pack my dinner.” she hums in annoyance. your eyes widen at the tension ellie is radiating.

“joel! my parents wanted me to give this to you as a thanks for the free self defense lesson, and for helping me out yesterday.” you open up your bag and take out a bottle of whiskey. ellie’s brows furrow, oops you forgot to tell her.

joel holds the bottle at a downward angle “would’ya look at that.. I’ll be sure to send my thanks to them.” he walks to the fridge and grabs out a container. “alright I’m headin’ out,” he looks at ellie “do me a favor, don’t burn the house down.” she groans and rolls her eyes.

“mm, these brownies are fucking good. you were right after all.” you scoff and smack her arm, “of course I was right. don’t ever doubt me again.” ellie rolls her eyes, “yes ma’am,” she quips sarcastically. “now, pay attention, this is my favorite part of the movie,” you say with feigned sternness. she smiles and nods, finishing off her brownie and leans back into her pillows.

you rest your head on her shoulder and place your hand on her stomach, tracing small patterns. you look up at her and whisper, “ellie?”

“hm?”

“do you really feel okay now?”

she turns her head to the side to look at you, face only inches away, and nods slowly. you feel her breath ghosting your lips and your heart starts racing, chest rising up and down quickly. ellie parts her mouth and licks her lips, leaning in, kissing you softly. she pulls away to look at you, before sitting up and grabbing your face, deepening the kiss.

HA sorry to edge u all. things are gonna get spicy as fuck in the next chapter. interactions are much appreciated 💗

taglist: @me-and-your-husband @fireflyels

[a-regular-amount-of-spiders]

dick grayson x reader w blood (like kissing his split lip after a fight, u get it)

Oooooo I do get it :3

They/them afab reader babes

This got like, weirdly poetic? I'm not really sure what happened, but this is more esoteric than my usual brand. Hope yo uenjoy all the same!

18+ for smut my loves

Dick spilled through the curtains covering your balcony window with a crash and a bitten off groan. You rush into your living room to see your almost partner splayed on your floor, blood sinking into your carpet. 

  “Fucking Christ!” You yelp, rushing over to his side, hovering nervously over his prone form. 

“Hey, I’m okay” He muttered from your floor.

“Yeah, sure, you going to say something believable this time?” You snap, more out of distress than anger, before taking a deep breath. You can handle this, you know what you’re doing. Probably. You assess his injuries, ignoring whatever dumb shit he has to say to justify the state of him in favor of getting all the wonderful tools afforded to a poor as hell medical student working part time as an EMT.

You work your magic, absently quipping a few jokes here and there as you assess the damage. It’s not as serious as it looks, thankfully. You zone back into reality as you finish cleaning his more severe injuries. He’s giving you a dopey smile that you can’t help but to return, he’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s got a lot of superficial cuts, so he looks a bloody mess despite barely losing any blood.

“Am I gonna live doc?” He gives you that lopsided smile that makes you want to kiss him, so you do.

“Idiot” you respond fondly. The coppery taste of blood on his split lip dances across your tongue. A sharp metallic twang that intertwines with a flavor that is uniquely him. You nip his bottom lip, just to hear him groan and just to feel his fingers tighten around your plush hips. He leans in, positioning himself in your lap. Hard, muscle-corded thighs splaying wide over your thick ones.

“You’re so soft.” He whispers in your ear, nipping it almost meanly, smearing blood down your neck as he places little kisses and sucks bruises on your skin, hand threading into your hair. You press your fingers into a wound on the inside of his arm, just to watch him tense. You still gasp when he pulls your hair back, when he digs his teeth into your neck and rocks his hip forward. You love when he gets like this, when the endorphins and relief of making it through a night almost gone horribly wrong go straight to his head and his cock. “And you’re so needy.” You take his hands in your own, placing them on your hips, just beneath your night shirt. He squeezes them, kneads his fingers into you, always fixated on how your body differs so much from his own. Dick leans in to kiss you again, this one slower, more considerate as he rolls his hips into yours, hands drifting up to trace the scars from top surgery,  then over your sensitive nipples, pinching and twist with a smug and bloodied grin that has you grabbing his arousal with a firm grip that makes him whimper, and makes the smug grin melt into those pretty watery blue eyes getting wide and pleasing. His long agile fingers drift lower, across your stomach and slipping beneath your waist band to stroke your clit and get his fingers slick enough to press into you at a pace just shy of desperate. He’d figured out all your sweet spots a long time ago, so even with the haze of endorphins and lust cast over his mind, he finds them easily. He presses into your hand eagerly, seemingly unable to help himself as you lick up the blood beading lazily on his open wounds. You’ll have to clean him after, when he’s plaint and clingy, but it won’t be hard. This is one of the few circumstances where he allows you to take care of him easily. You lean into whisper praise in his ear, you tell him how good he is, how he’s being so sweet for you, how he’s so lovely like this, and he starts to fall apart. Neither of you last long like this, a little slice of time where there;s no ego or competition. Where neither of you is scared of your wants, or worried about driving each other away. You fall apart in each other’s hands, clothes still on, because like this there’s no pretense. You’re just glad he’s here. Your love allowing him to covet tenderness. His vulnerability allowing you to covet the feeling of being needed. Of being irreplaceable. Your orgasm washes over you like honey sluggishly warming your veins. You lean against each other for awhile. The floor is cold and uncomfortable beneath your knees which are pressed in an uncomfortable fold. You hold each other despite the blood and sweat soaking your clothes, stick and gross, because in the face of the simple euphoria of loving human contact none of that matters. When reality creeps in, city breathing with cars and lights just outside of your window, you both drag yourself to the bathroom. You wash his hair of the dirt and grime, of thee smokey, ripe city air. He washes his blood off your hands, He cleans your body and you clean his soul. You collapse into your bed together, wrapped tight in each others arms- neither willing to go in between dreams, nightmares, and the waking.