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aethelwyneleigh27 · 7 months

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Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part three)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves (+ some headcanons including the Shadows), Makarov

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

A/n: I tried so hard to get this one out in time with the other but my other wips are getting to me 😭. I posted twice today just to feed y'all ahaha.

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

König

ꕥ (PLEASE DON'T COME AFTER ME, I DON'T KNOW ANY GERMAN AND I'M USING GOOGLE TRANSLATE)

ꕥ Speaking of König, I don't think this man is the shy boy that some people is making him out to be (not that he doesn't have that side at all, I just feel like they make it his whole personality). Based on voice lines alone this man is cocky asf.

ꕥ There's a reason for his mask, yes he was bullied as a child because of his looks and that's one of the causes to his social anxiety but that doesn't mean this mf is shy. He just like to avoid people and social interactions yk. (Y'all have no idea how much I can relate to this)

ꕥ Has and will continue to use his height to his advantage, someone bothering you while you're both sat having a wonderful time together? This mf stands the fuck up, shoulders back, chest out and everything. Looming over that person while glaring down, arms crossed while they're engulfed by the shadow of this 6'10 behemoth of a man.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader? He'll throw you over his shoulders, only using one arm below your ass while he carries you off. Seriously it is no problem to this man, he'd beg you to sit on his face and suffocate him. If anything I'd say he has a preference for it yk, very soft and plush reader for real.

ꕥ Our DIY king here wearing a shirt for a hood, his hair sticking out of the hole for the head whenever he's dressing casual. Play with his hair like right now, you'll make him melt right then and there.

ꕥ Enjoys cuddling, hasn't had many partners and by that I mean kinda none. Nobody was insane enough to approach him till you came around so he's very touch starved. He didn't even know he enjoyed touching that much till he was able to feel the amount of warmth your body gives him. He'd swear on his life that he was intoxicated in that moment.

ꕥ Whenever you sit or straddle on his lap, he's still so fucking tall. I swear you will gain neck pains if you wanna keep eye contact while talking to him. (I understand the struggle, I am a 5'1 girly. Every character I know within the CoD universe is taller than me 😭)

ꕥ Doesn't actually wear his mask around you, he's comfortable and trust you enough to know you wouldn't go around telling everyone what he looks like.

ꕥ Nicknames he'd call you in German are Mein Schatz, Fräulein, Liebling, Engel and Kleine Maus

ꕥ He's still definitely bitter about not being a sniper. (AHAHAHA)

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin

ꕥ (IF I'M BEING HONEST, I DID NOT EXPECT HIS VOICE TO BE THAT DEEP. ALSO HIS VOICE LINES IN KOREAN/HANGUL (IDK WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT)

ꕥ He has doodles on his tactical gear that he did himself (there are also one that are a tribute to squid game because man's had a gambling addiction), has asked you to draw on it too and he proudly wears it when on duty. Will feel stupid while unconsciously smiling if you draw a heart.

ꕥ Writing something down on his vest from your own mother tongue and he's asking the meaning, if it's genuinely something good like a compliment or something like "I love you" then you will catch this man with a shit eating grin.

ꕥ He used to be a gambler before entering the military and it eventually got him to stop, though he still has a thing for risk, he got himself a more deadlier alternative.

ꕥ Expect surprise back hugs, this man isn't called Horangi for nothing. He's stealthy, I like to think that whatever he says to you is well thought out as well. Man knows how to think before he speaks.

ꕥ Horangi likes to pounce on things, just for the fun of it. It leads him to tackle you on your shared bed a lot, lots of play fighting too.

ꕥ HAS THE PRETTIEST EYES EVER. Like seriously, the only people who knows what he looks like is you and König. Had gentle eyes, you know that quote "His eyes softened", yeah that's the definition of his eyes.

ꕥ Loves it when you trace the veins on his arms with your finger nails, will just straight up offer his arm to you.

Keegan P. Russ

ꕥ This man and his panty dropping voice like holy hell I have never heard a voice as deep as his without a vocal fry (from those try hard guys on TikTok who try to hard thinking their thirst traps are good).

ꕥ Calls you "kid" in an affectionate way? It's honestly just what he calls anyone younger than him, you're shorter? He'll emphasize on that shit. Elaborating on the nickname I said earlier, he uses it less when y'all are dating but still does on some occasions.

ꕥ Would say the most dirty and uncalled for things, whispering it in your ears. He's and asshole in the best way possible, loves it when you gasp and playfully slap his chest.

ꕥ He's sweet though, would see you as his wife even if you're not married. You're his now, the moment you entered his life, he basically had a death grip on you.

ꕥ Something tells me that he likes talking about you or to you through radios yk. His voice sounding even deeper through the device, calling you doll even though he's supposed to refer to you with your call sign.

ꕥ Praise kink? I mean you've more likely heard his voice lines, is the type of man to praise you and ruffle your hair, either that or he'll kiss you depending on what stage of your relationship you are both in.

ꕥ Constantly thinks his eyes are weird even though they aren't, he just has sleepy eyes. Speaking of sleeping, I feel like he has such a fucked up sleeping schedule and is used to pulling all nighters more than the normal person.

ꕥ Will drag you in bed though and lay his whole weight on top of you because you ain't going nowhere, you are staying there with him and only him.

Philip Graves

ꕥ (If it isn't "Fix It Felix", please tell me I'm not the only one who sees it AHAHAHA)

ꕥ Philip is touchy, somebody for the love of everything that is holy cuddle this man please. He is just screaming at any type of physical contact at this point. (My sources? Right fucking here)

ꕥ Is the type of boyfriend to come home to you and just hug you, y'all would be there for a solid 10 minutes before he lets you go. Burying his head into your neck and just inhaling your scent while having his arms wrapped tightly around you.

ꕥ His Shadows? More like his fucking children, again going back to the TikTok. He knows how to get their attention, the little pats on the shoulder and small praises are his way of saying they did a good job and they're eating it up.

ꕥ That being said, you are either gonna be their mother figure or someone they enjoy protecting because their dad is so fond of you. Why not be both right?

ꕥ You cannot tell me this man won't be next to the grill, spatula, tongs or whatever kitchen utensil in one hand and a cold bottle of beer in the other.

ꕥ Spends his weekends with you on his lap while he watches football in your guys' couch, you're definitely scrolling on your phone during this.

ꕥ You cannot tell me this man doesn't wear cowboy hats and boots because he certainly does, is it a turn on or a turn off? I genuinely do not know..

ꕥ Is fruity on some aspects but would never fucking admit it..

Makarov

ꕥ Y'ALL ACTUALLY THOUGHT I'D WRITE FOR THIS MAN? NAH THIS ACC IS WHOLESOME (OR ANGSTY) AND ION THINK THIS MAN IS SALVAGEABLE. (This came from a girl who once was obsessed with Tom Riddle for years when she was 13, I recovered from it dw)

ꕥ This man would literally use anyone and anything as leverage for whatever he wants to achieve. (Yes I am one of those "I can fix him" people but damn idk if this man is fixable)

ꕥ Please don't tell me you actually genuinely think this man would be good to you.. I knew what I was writing was unrealistic but damn y'all are delulu on another level (so am I, stay delulu). Jokes aside I love y'all and he's one of the few I won't write for. (AHEM Severus Snape (that greasy mop haired mf)

ꕥ And yes I understand most of my shit are kind of OOC but damn if I wrote him, it would be extremely fucking far from canon and I don't like romanticizing toxic relationships (if I ever do write it, it will be angst and I can't ever promise a happy ending).

ꕥ Happy April fool's! (I know I'm posting this end of September (it's actually October now 😭)

#cod headcanons #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #philip graves x reader #konig x reader #horangi x reader #keegan russ x reader #cod x female reader #cod x gn!reader #cod modern warfare #cod mwf2 #call of duty mw2 #mw2 #makarov x reader #satire #Aethelwyne Lia writes

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deci-doodles · 1 month

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So uh. More parents when they were younger, yay (Tartaglia edition this time)

Mother’s Oksana (did this one recently, she’s supposed to have a crown braid) and the dad’s Serhii (doodle from December oof)

Rambles under the cut as per usual

Aight SO:

Oksana Fedorivna Neschadymenko (Оксана Федорівна Нещадименко, née Kalashnyk/Калашник)

- actually p shy and introverted, can be p sensitive and sentimental at times too

- lived in Morepesok her whole life, her family settled there some time ago during its heyday

- she’s the middle child and has two brothers (an older one name Myroslav who’s moved to the city and has three daughters, and a younger one named Anatoliy who stayed and has five kids), her younger brother and her parents don’t live too far away from her and Serhii’s home

- nowadays she just wishes her kids would all come home more often since she worries about them so much and wants to make sure they’re ok

- she’s always been more on the stereotypically feminine side (being quite capable at the loom, embroidery, cooking, etc, I mean hell, she handmade nearly all the kids’ clothes before they started earning their own incomes*, probs still does even with Ajax’s harbinger money), when Kirena was young she probably tried to encourage her to play with dolls more often than playing in trees, but that didn’t work and she was too soft when it heavily upset Kirena so she didn’t push it further

*keep in mind this would’ve been the necessity for a lot of peasants especially but idk how similar Snezhnaya is gonna be in terms of wealth disparity and stuff. Traditional dowries also consisted of rushnyky and embroidered shirts to show one’s prowess but regardless, Oksana enjoys spending her time at the loom and with her thread and needle

Serhii Mykhailovych Neschadymenko (Сергій Михайлович Нещадименко):

- is actually the extroverted one lmao

- was abandoned as a baby and raised in a Cossack monastery, but ultimately became an adventurer to find somewhere he felt he belonged. As a result he was extremely pious, but over the years has become more and more disillusioned with the Tsaritsa following the Ajax shenanigans

- came across Morepesok by accident, ended up courting Oksana and settling down there permanently

- Jack of all trades since he picked up various skills on his travels (he can fight with his twin shashka, sing, dance, play bandura, etc), but nowadays he’s mainly tending to his own garden and does beekeeping since his health isn’t as great as it used to be

- his basic view regarding his kids is that they’re free to choose their own paths and do as they please so he’s probably the more laidback parent in comparison, but he wants them to at least look out for one another

- his biggest regret is sending Ajax to the Fatui

I think both of them have accepted that they can’t change what happened but there’s still a lot of regrets over how they handled everything with Ajax (I won’t go into full details of that yet since uh, currently working on a fic ehe), that and there really isn’t much they can do now. Also like, I need to emphasise that they’re country folk from a small village in a fantasy world, there is a lot they probably wouldn’t understand compared to what we would know now lmao

But before all of that they’re basically that one couple who seemed to have a romance that came straight out of a fairytale and doted on their children. They could’ve continued what was basically a cottagecore dream too if Ajax didn’t end up wandering off

#deci doodles #genshin impact #genshin oc #genshin ocs #serhii neschadymenko #oksana neschadymenko #childe tartaglia ajax #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia

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existential-angstt · 1 year

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Pay Attention Please (P. 2) // (professor) Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Reader

part twooooo

it gets a little spicer in this chapter folksssssss

warnings: spicy talk, degradation, slight bondage, denial (at its most basic level, just teasing foreplay), light light choking (not much is gonna happen in this chapter but this is every possible warning i can give)

You could openly admit sitting through the same lesson twice was absolutely mundane. But, on the plus side, you didn’t have to pay attention to this one. You did catch Professor Morrissey’s eye here or there– he was watching you, especially when he thought you weren’t looking– but mostly you doodled or distracted yourself through it and eventually it was over. You watched the class pick up their things and leave with a mix of relief and anticipation churning in your gut. Your professor tucked away his things neatly and collected them, picking up his empty coffee cup and looking at you silently in question. You scrambled up from your seat, a little sore from two hours in that dreadful little desk chair, and scurried after him as you both slipped out of the room.

You followed him with absolutely no plan but he seemed to know where he was going so you let him lead the way. You walked with him in silence, feeling almost like you were in detention or something, down the stairs, out of the building, and over to the bus stop where you hopped a ride downtown. You found a corner seat and he stood just in front of you, holding onto one of the handles and looming over you six inches away. Once or twice he swayed into you with the movement of the bus, his knees hitting yours (more like his calves, fucker was unreasonably tall) and you couldn’t make yourself look up at him when that happened.

Eventually, at one of the stops, he nudged your leg with a foot which made you jump a little and look up at him but he only said, “Let’s go,” and nodded at the bus doors. You hopped up and skipped after him, careful not to lose him. You almost wanted to grab one of his hands so you didn’t get separated but you were still way too anxious to try that right now. The two of you wove down a city street for a block, rounded a corner, went down an alley, and came out at a little cafe. It was about 4 by now, so it was very slow with only a few patrons and the sleepy restful air of late afternoon.

Professor Morrissey grabbed the door for you and you slipped inside with a murmured “thanks”. The two of you ordered coffee and found a table in the big window at the front and finally, after his first sip of coffee, he looked up at you expectantly. You blushed a little– the two of you had gone on this big adventure and you weren’t sure where to go from here. After a minute or two of thoughtful silence, he said, “Well, I know you didn’t ask me here for Latin tutoring.”

You laughed a little, some of your nervousness betrayed in the sound. “Not exactly,” you replied, and then after a moment, “Why’d you say yes?”

He laughed a little into his cup– it was dark. If he’d added any sweeteners (which you hadn’t seen him do) it hadn’t been much. “You made it a little hard to refuse. I gave you my excuse, I had to teach a class. You said you’d wait. I had no reason to say no.”

You were risking a lot by mentioning it but if it had been a big deal he wouldn’t have come. “Well I thought… professors weren’t really supposed to… hang out with students,” you took a sip of your drink and enjoyed the warmth of it on your tongue. He gave a half-shrug with one of his shoulders and a half-cocked grin. Lowly, he said, “You’ve read about my deep dark past. You know by now I do what I want,” he took a sip of his coffee, eyes on you, giving you that knowing look again and making you drop your gaze Was that a test? He chuckled into his coffee. He had you and he knew it. “You seem nervous, are you all right?” Your eyes flashed back up to him, slightly wider. Now he was teasing. “I’m- I’m fine,” you managed, sipping your drink to give you an out for saying anything more.

“You have more questions though… don’t you?”

You nodded in admittance. “Well? Go ‘head,” he said. But your mouth stayed shut– because all of the obvious ones were out of the way, you weren’t sure what to ask next. When he sensed your hesitation, he said, “All right, how about I ask one.”

You nodded, eager for another moment to think. “How’d you find that article?” You swallowed a little, a little smile tugging at your face. “Somebody sent it to me,” you replied. It was your turn to be a little smug. “Who?” he said. You shook your head, saying, “Not telling.”

He wrinkled his nose slightly for a moment, but gave up his pursuit.

“Did he live?”

He looked up again, seemingly surprised by the question.

After a moment: “Yes, he lived.”

You two spent about an hour and a half in the coffee shop before it was mutually agreed (less so on your part, mostly because you were starting to get hungry and you had lots of homework to get done) that it was time to part. He was heading in a different direction than you were, so he hopped on a bus with a short, almost fond (you were convincing yourself it was) goodbye while you started walking towards the bus hub to catch the one you needed for your apartment.

Many hours later, that night, while you were busy whittling away at an English essay about literature during the American Revolution, your phone pinged. You picked it up expecting it to be Becca or your mother or something. But it was an unknown number…. And a picture. You frowned, opening it and praying to everything that it wasn’t a dick pic– but you were very pleasantly surprised.

It was a picture of a photograph– from an album. It had been carefully placed on the page and you could see the edge of the photo housed below it– but you were too busy focusing on the details of this one. It was kind of a dark photo, and there were three or four people in it and the details were slightly blurred from motion. One of them was immediately recognizable as Professor Morrissey, his head thrown back, his mouth hung open in a wide silent laugh, trapped in time. You’d– just barely mentioned that you liked getting to see the old pictures of him because you couldn’t picture him as this big scary thug the media painted him as.

Here, he just looked like a boy. A boy you definitely would’ve fallen for the way you feared you were starting to fall now. He cares what you think of him. You swallowed the thought, pushing it away a little because it was too self-serving for your taste, and texted back.

“See, that’s better. That looks more like you.”

“How’d you get my number?”

“The syllabus page you signed, with your contact information on it :)”

You snorted quietly to yourself and stared at the photo a moment longer. He looked so carefree there. Innocent almost.

Another two weeks went by, and another coffee shop excursion post-class. That one was less about the past and more about getting to know each other. Things you liked, things that were important to you. Professor Morrissey talked about reading a lot, and said he did some poetry (“Not like my younger years, that stuff was burned long long ago”). You both liked horror movies as well as impossibly gut-wrenching stuff. You left that day with a book recommendation for “the saddest thing you’ll ever read” and somehow you knew you’d love it.

The third week after that first coffee date, you found yourself heading across campus during your free period to his office hours. Office hours were pretty open-ended– you could go for specific questions or problems or anything you needed to speak to the professor about. You were trying to swallow the lump in your throat but this was something you really wanted– needed– to do.

You took your time once you got on the hall of offices where his resided. You slowly crept down the hall until you were just outside his door, where you could hear chattering inside. A student– not one you recognized– was asking a question. You leaned back against the doorframe of an office on the opposite side, listening. You already knew the answer to the kid’s question– but then, there was the professor’s voice, warm and comforting. You listened to it closely– the way he spoke to him, explaining. It may have been your imagination but it was nothing like the way he spoke to you. There was something… different about the way he spoke to you. Something richer… lower… sweeter, like bittersweet dark chocolate. You frowned a little, wondering if you were over-exaggerating in your head because him speaking to you usually came with his eye contact which was distracting enough on its own.

You waited anxiously for fifteen minutes, other professors and students passing you in the hall, listening to your classmate ask question after question. At some point, you just rolled your eyes a little bit. How hard could it be? Finally, after what felt like forever, you heard the student gathering his things and a moment later, after a brief thanks to Professor Morrissey, he came out of the office, startling a little at the sight of you but then continuing on his way.

You padded over to the open door, the light from the window behind his desk washing over you. You saw his head jerk up and felt his eyes on you but you couldn’t see him with all the light in your eyes. Stepping into the office and out of reach of the sunshine granted you the view of Professor Morrissey, leaning over his desk, filling out paperwork. The office was stiflingly hot and the top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, lending you a peek at the top of his chest, where you could just barely make out more ink lines from a tattoo over his heart.

Your eyes were locked on it for a long moment and he didn’t say anything, just waited, so it was a moment before you broke out of your reverie. You opened your mouth and then closed it, and then opened it again. Finally, you managed, “Is that a tattoo?” Professor Morrissey blinked up at you, slightly dumbfounded, and then looked down at himself, finally noticing the lines that were showing around the edges of his shirt. “Yes-” he said, obviously still confused. Inhaling a little, you leaned forward and very gently tugged at the edge of the shirt, exposing more of his chest. Softly, “A bird?” In the same soft tone, he replied, “A dove.” Its wings were outstretched in flight right over his heart, just black lines.

“I like it,” you said softly, still holding his shirt open. You looked up into his eyes– your faces were inches apart from how you’d leaned in, and you could smell his breath– minty, like gum. You stayed there, just looking at him, utterly entranced by how close you were. His gaze slid down to your lips, eyeing those for a minute, his lips parting slightly, subconsciously, before his eyes moved back up to yours.

You pulled back, letting go of his shirt, and noted in a very pleased way the way you heard him exhale– deeply and quickly, as though he’d been holding his breath. You stepped back just enough to shut the door to his office, and as you were turning back, you were saying, “I came here because I needed to tell you-”

Your voice cut off as you finished turning around– mostly in shock because when you turned back to him you found him standing, towering over you, his shirt still sort of parted in a certain way because of the way you’d pulled it back. You looked up at him with soft startled eyes, whatever you were going to say was lost, and before you could try to find it, he was kissing you.

You melted into the kiss, reaching up to rest your hands on his shoulders while you felt his drop to your waist, your kiss slow and intentional. You kissed a few times, your lips brushing over each other, coming back for more over and over until you were both out of breath, chests heaving slightly against each other as you finally broke apart to breathe again. The two of you stayed close, him holding you by the waist and your hands resting on his shoulders (his… tall, very broad… shoulders-).

After a moment- “What- what did you- come here to tell me?” You stood back up on tippy toes and kissed him deeply, bringing your hands up to plunge into his raven hair. God, it felt just as soft as you hoped it would, as you fantasized it would. Testingly, you balled your fist in it and gave it a tug. He made a rather pleasing noise and his hips bumped into yours, the hands on your waist giving it a squeeze.

He pushed you back a little and turned you a half turn so your back bumped into the wall and he could pull back to look at you, his hips boxing you in. You looked at him with wide eyes, your cheeks tingling with blush. He hissed lowly, “What was your plan, hmm? Come to my office and– and seduce me into taking you right here, right now?” he gently pried your hands off of his shoulders and pushed them up above you into the wall. Your breathing hitched and your chin tilted up, watching him with wide eyes. You were unable to even say anything, the fresh tone of his voice and the look on his face were both frightening and intoxicating.

If you thought his eyes were dark before, they were black now. The roved up and down the shape of your body, trapped between him and the wall, his hips pressed into yours to hold you in place. You pushed forward a little to try to kiss him again but he tutted. “No, no, no, you get what I give you,” his voice dropped to a low hiss, “and you’re not going to be a greedy whore and demand more.” You gaped up at him, panting softly, totally unable to move, eyes jumping between his slightly parted lips and his dark dangerous eyes.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and you almost couldn’t catch your breath but you wanted more, you just wanted him right now. He pressed closer to you, almost teasing you with how close his mouth was to yours without touching it. “Say ‘yes, sir’,” he said in that low satiny tone. Your mouth started moving but all you could get out were incoherent sounds. He squeezed your wrists, nails digging in. “Say it.”

“Yes- yes, yes, sir- yes- sir,” you stammered out. He let out a low purr, mumbled, “Good girl,” and leaned in to kiss you deeply again, his whole body pressing yours into the wall, your hands still trapped above your head. You kissed him desperately while he still moved so achingly slow, catching your bottom lip in between his teeth and nipping it. You made a little noise, inwardly cringing at how loud it sounded in the small office. He pulled back just an inch or two, resting his forehead against yours. He tucked both of your wrists under one of his large hands and brought the other down to grip very lightly at your throat, just resting there.

“What are you after, huh? What do you want from me?” he said lowly, tongue darting out to swipe at your lip. You realized as he did that that your lip was bleeding; you saw the flash of red on his soft pink tongue. You couldn’t hold back a soft shudder when you saw, your own tongue flicking out to taste the coppery sweet blood on your lip.

He squeezed at your throat lightly, testing, the way you had when you tugged his hair, and you let out a low soft moan in response. He cursed beneath his breath, squeezing a little harder, and you squeezed your eyes shut so he wouldn’t see them roll back a little. “Do you know what you do to me?” he hissed at you, pushing his hips back into yours. You bucked your hips back and could feel his hard cock pressing back against you.

He was still hissing words in your ear and you were forcing yourself to try to comprehend them instead of just giving over to everything your body wanted. “Why were you asking all those questions, y/n? Why did you want to know all that stuff? Did it turn you on? Knowing I’ve done stuff like that?” he squeezed at your throat again and you let out a mewl, nodding desperately.

He leaned in closer, his hot breath hitting your neck in short bursts, and lowly, dangerously, “The reason I stabbed that asshole is he had his hands on my girl. Nobody gets to touch my girl but me.” You gave a little gasp and shifted your hips against him, pushing towards him for any extra contact you could get. “Look at you,” he used the hand around your throat to tip your face towards his, holding it there. “Does that turn you on?”

You nodded and the hand at your throat tightened. “Yes-” you gasped out, “yes sir- yes sir.” He chuckled darkly and dipped his head down to kiss at your neck, little fleeting kisses that left your throat burning where his lips had touched it. You bucked your hips against his again, looking for friction and he hissed and pulled back, keeping your wrists pinned. “What did we say,” he growled softly, “about being greedy?” You panted softly, gazing up at him through hooded eyes, unable to speak.

He gazed down at you a long moment and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. All of a sudden he was pulling away, letting go of your throat your hands, standing nearly across the small office, chest still heaving a little. “Get out,” he said quietly. You looked up at him with wide eyes, not understanding. What did I do wrong, what-

“Go,” he said, turning away from you and stepping back behind his desk, where he started shoving his things into his bag. He was moving quickly, just shoving loose papers into it without any care, completely uncharacteristic of him. “I said get out,” he said a little more bitingly and you finally found yourself able to obey, scrambling out of the office, down the hall, down the stairs, and out the door. You didn’t stop hurrying until you stepped foot into your apartment and only then did you stop to think about what had just happened. You backed up against your front door once you were safely inside and slid down to the floor, throwing your stuff off to the side.

What… was that

This fic is also on AO3 if you want to stay updated :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46251523/chapters/116444272

#NYPD Blue #pedro pascal #shane dio morrissey #shane dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey #dio x reader #dio x you

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nogoodthing-official · 6 months

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No Good Thing: Shorts

S-1: A New Beginning

Synopsis:

This is the canon story of how Brock and Maxim first meet. Since it’s not going to be gone over in the main story, I decided to make it its own short story (“short” is used very lightly here). This was incredibly self-indulgent and the writing is a little… cringy weird since I tried to make the conversations flow naturally in this, and the descriptions are a bit clunky, but I hope you’ll enjoy it regardless! If there’s anything I need to fix with my writing, don’t hesitate to let me know. And this is actually the first time I’ve done cover art for this!

This will be set in the past, so Brock is 19 and Maxim is 21 in this short.

(This is your daily reminder that they do not live on Earth)

Read:

10 years ago, Brock was a very different person. He doesn’t like to talk about his younger years, but out of everything that’s happened when he was a teenager, there was one part of it that he remembers and cherishes deeply.

When Brock was 19, he was very aloof and antisocial. Rarely looked up from the ground, rarely made eye contact, rarely laughed, rarely smiled. You could argue that he doesn’t smile much now, but you just don’t know how bad it got at one point. His eyes had dark rings under them from a lack of sleep and an overall poor sense of taking care of himself. Most of his wardrobe was bought for the sole purpose of blending in, since he hated attracting attention to himself. The entire whirlwind of stuff he had to deal with in his teenage years made his mental health worse. He didn't like talking to other people, so he didn't have any friends, aside from his previous teachers, but he felt that it was their job to like him. He was seeing a therapist, but he didn't feel like he was getting better. If anything it was calling more attention to the fact that he was not mentally stable. Not normal. His social skills were taking a toll from all of the combined mental issues, which only made his chance at making friends more and more difficult.

One day, he was sitting at the park, as per his mother urging him to take more time to be outside. He didn’t really have any plans for anything to do once he got there, so he brought his sketchbook and just spent a majority of his time drawing in the park. It was virtually the same thing that he was doing while inside, but at least it was outside this time, so it was better for him. While sitting on a picnic bench, minding his own business, drawing or doodling anything that came to his mind, he saw a shadow loom from over the right side of the table, until it fell onto his sketchbook. He didn’t acknowledge it at first, until the shadow spoke.

“Hello!”

Brock jumped a little too hard at the sudden voice. It was louder than the ambient sounds of the park. The person’s voice was very baritone, so baritone that he thought it was one of the few adults that he knew. But when he looked up at who greeted him, he had full sight of the person’s appearance, one that he could only describe as antithetical to his voice. He had a light blue sweater with denim jeans, and the shirt appeared to have colorful stickers on it, but upon closer examination were actually ironed-on patches. On his left arm, he had so many beaded bracelets of different colors and sizes that it was hard to believe that they weren’t weighing his arm down. The most eye-catching thing, however, was the hat that he was wearing. It was neon green and had long mittens that went down the side of his head, each mitten having a paw print on the palm and felt claws at the end. The top of the hat had a cat face with a pink Mohawk along with cat ears. The hat actually looked familiar. He remembered seeing it in a store, but only vaguely. Under the hat was a messy head of fluffy, dusty brown hair, complimenting his fair skin tone. The person himself was a few inches taller than Brock, but he had a much bigger frame. He was far more muscular than Brock was, but still slightly less muscular than most people he had seen before. His round, blue eyes were staring at him, waiting for a response. Brock was still taking in his overwhelming appearance. The person suddenly looked apologetically at him, after noticing how long he was silently staring at him.

“Oh, sorry, did I startle you? I forget how loud I am at times.”

Brock glanced at his sketchbook, still staring at the person.

“I just came over to see what you were doing. Uh, which, now that i’m closer, looks like drawing. Can I see?”

Brock considered his options carefully. On one hand, he had no idea who this person was or why he was talking to him, let alone why he would care about something he was doing. He might not have the best intentions. On the other hand, he willingly came up to him to talk. Out of everyone else in the park. Who knows when that would happen again?

“…sure.”

The person smiled before walking to the other side of him, sitting beside him before scooting a bit away, to give him some space. The person looked over each finished piece, as well as the occasional idle doodle or unfinished sketches in awe.

“Woww, these are really good! What did you use for these?”

Brock, not used to the praise, found it difficult to find a response. “Oh u-uh… just colored pencil, fine-tipped pen, marker, it’s not really that great, it's just what I do when i’m bored…”

“Well, it’s better than what I could do, that's for sure.”

The person looked over the sketches again and again, clearly not getting enough of it. “Man, I wish I had the patience to make something with this much detail,” he handed the sketchbook back to Brock. “The best I could do was make all of these Kandi bracelets.”

“Kandi” bracelets? So that’s what they were called… “You… made all of those?”

“Yeah!” The person beamed with pride. “I make them as a hobby. Some of my friends think it’s kinda childish, but I enjoy making them.”

Brock looked over the bracelets more carefully this time. Some bracelets had beads with letters, some had intricate patterns, some even had charms with the same character he was wearing on his hat. They personally weren’t his style, and he admittedly had to agree with his aforementioned friends, but he also had to admit, by looking at them he could tell that he obviously had lots of experience. They look like he put a lot of effort into it. It was obviously a source of pride for him. Brock decided to take that into account. “I think they look nice.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, those look like they took a long time to make. I’m glad that you can channel your creativity into a medium that you can enjoy.” Brock internally chastised himself the projection on that compliment.

“Aww gee, that's really nice of you to say. Yeah, they do take a while, and I’ve actually made a lot more than these.” He lifts and studies over his bedazzled arm with a look you’d expect from an archaeologist looking over a newly discovered fossil. “I’d have to say that these are four out of… 50 bracelets I’ve made? It’s been a while since I’ve done an actual count, but-”

“50?”

“Hahah, yeah! I actually have a few pictures of the ones I made! I started making them 3 years ago…”

Brock and the stranger talked for about 15 minutes about their art, their stories from school, their families. It was starting to get dark and the stranger had to go. As the stranger started to make his way out of the park, Brock suddenly started feeling… something. He started feeling sick. He started feeling lonelier with each step he was taking away from him. No. He didn't want to feel like this now. He was desperate for interaction, any interaction at this point. He didn’t care that he was a complete stranger. He actually engaged with him, was actually interested in what he was talking about, he treated him like a person. He wasn’t just a random stranger, he was a stranger who made him feel like what he said actually mattered to people, something he hasn’t felt in years, and now he was walking away. Who knows if he might see him again. Who knows if anyone else will even talk with him again. He was mentally screaming at himself to break out of his stupor and do something. He’s almost at the gate. Do something. NOW.

“WAIT!” Brock practically shouts at the stranger, causing him to whirl his head around towards his direction, stopping only a few feet away from the park’s exit. Brock rushed over to him from the other side of the park where he was sitting, stopping before him and doubling over to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his ears so hard that he almost couldn’t hear anything else. After a few seconds of heavy panting, his heartbeat slowing, and Maxim politely waiting, he asks him, “W-what’s your name?”

The person looked like he forgot something important. “Oh! My apologies, I guess I never really told you, huh? My name is Maxim.”

Brock took a few more seconds to catch his breath. “Maxim. Okay. My name is… Brock.”

“Nice to meet you, Brock!”

Brock nods in response, finally getting ahold of his breathing. He pored over how to ask this question without sounding desperate. “Do you… want to meet up here again? Maybe tomorrow? I mean, if you are busy or aren't feeling up for-”

Maxim chimes in immediately, obviously having the same thought. “That sounds like a great idea! It was pretty fun talking with you.” His face then brightens up with and idea in mind. “…Actually, I have another great idea!” He immediately takes out his phone and unlocks it, excitedly swiping to somewhere only he knows. “Oh wait, uh, can I borrow your phone, if you have one?” Brock takes out his phone and hands it to him. Maxim takes it and fiddles with it for a few seconds, occasionally glancing at his own phone, before handing it back to Brock. “There. Now we won’t have to come out here every time we want to talk to each other! Plus it’s just easier.” He puts away his phone and opens up the gate before starting on his way back home, pausing to say goodbye to Brock through the chain-link fence. “Hopefully we can pick our conversation up where we left off tomorrow!”

Brock just nodded in response. Maxim smiled sweetly at him before saying goodbye and making his way back home. He looks at his phone to see what he could've possibly done with it, and saw that it was opened up to his phone app…

…with Maxim’s phone number. And upon further examination, he made a contact in his text messages. He had to test this. He typed in a simple “hello” and sent it to the contact. Seconds later, he saw a response.

“;P”

It was Maxim. Holy shit.

He had a friend.

———————————————————————————————————————

It had been a few months since Brock befriended Maxim. To be honest, he didn't even know what happened to that even attract that guy to himself. He seemed like the exact opposite in personality and appearance, even in interests. But he had to admit, it was nice. He learned more about him over the rest of the year, like his other hobbies, other than bracelet making. He learned that his full name is Maxim Torres. He learned that Maxim also apparently collects these small stuffed animals, even ones that have been discontinued, and enjoys studying about scout badges. Brock has a few stuffed animals of his own, as well as ones from when he was still a baby, so as soon as he heard the phrase “stuffed animal”, he was instantly hooked. Aside from the park, they also regularly went to places that they both had interest in, like the library or the mall, and other times just played around in the more wooded areas of their neighborhood. Brock also started to notice himself acting less guarded around him, too. He would be more relaxed and act less emotionally distant than if he wasn’t around him. He felt more motivated to take care of himself and looked forward to going outside. He even started to smile more, too. He really started to look up to him and aspire to be more like him. More easygoing.

But recently, Brock also noticed weird happenings with himself. He started to find his that body acts weird when he was around him. It would get harder to find words or enunciate his thoughts around him, and would start being more quiet. Whenever he accidentally brushed against his arm or hand, his hand would react by shaking violently. Hugs usually had the same effect, but then he would just start melting into him, and almost become drowsy. There have been times where he almost dozed off when Maxim hugged him. Whenever Maxim would compliment his art or, let’s be honest, make eye contact or smile at him, his heart would start racing, usually attempting to return the smile with very little success, and hearing his voice would make the room feel hotter than it actually was. Not only that, he kept finding something that he didn’t notice about his eyes before every time he looked at them. Something that made them… nice to look at. Something that makes him feel calm when he sees them. He even started having… “dreams.” What was happening? Brock wasn't sure why this was happening to him, at first he started to think that he was starting to relapse in his behavior. But after a few days of questioning and a few weekly therapy sessions, he finally got an answer. He liked Maxim. In fact, he loved Maxim. Romantically.

He hid his feelings for a while. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Maxim in the very likely event that he didn't like him romantically. He started to distance himself from Maxim, seeing any interaction with him as a way to deepen his affection for him and make things worse, and therefore harder to ignore. He wouldn’t talk to him unless he urged him to, avoided any physical contact, and just spent the day stewing in his own feelings and thoughts. One day, while in his bed, after a long night of staring at his ceiling, he hears the chime on his phone go off, snapping him away from his trance. He checks to see who it is and tries to ignore the sickening butterflies in his stomach as he read who texted him.

Maxim.

He read the text. “Hey dude, are you okay?” Over time, he noticed that Maxim texted closer to correct grammar when he was worried about something. Brock mulled over what he should do. He started typing.

“yes”

A reply came in a few seconds later. “Meet me at the park, I wanna tell you something”

Ignoring how it was currently the middle of the night, he took a few minutes to wake up, stepped out his window, and made his way to the park. When he got there, he saw Maxim waiting at the picnic table.

“Hey, you made it! Hopefully I didn't disturb your sleep.”

Not like he could sleep. Brock found sleeping difficult after his recent discovery, so he was actually thankful for that text. He couldn't tell him every detail though. “No, you didn't.”

“I wanted to tell you about this idea that I got! I really think you'll like it!”

Brock had nothing better to do. “What?”

“A New Year's Eve party!”

Brock took a moment for his ears to catch up with his words. “…a what?”

“A New Year's Eve party!” He begins rattling off his research. “I’ve read about it online and apparently, on Earth, the year ends after it makes a full revolution around their sun, so their year is 365 days long. And as it turns out, their planet will finish its revolution tomorrow! So, how about we try and have a celebration as well, just for fun?”

Brock considered the honestly weird offer. He wasn’t interested in social events, and he hated asking if anyone else would be there, as if it would convey that whether he was interested or not based on the answer. But he had to know. “…Is anyone else going to be there?”

“No, it’ll just be a you-and-me thing. I noticed that you were kinda down lately, and I thought that this would help with that. It’ll be in my ~crafting room~,” he said the words “crafting room” with a flourish, like he always did. Brock stifled a chuckle. “And my parents will be very busy, so it’ll just be us! I know how you aren't that into crowds.”

God, he was so sweet. Brock tried to calm down his beating heart while he considered an answer. Hmm, well… if no one else will be there and the house will be empty… but… hm. You know what, why not. He never really considered how he was making him feel by distancing himself away from him, and it was the least he could do. Wasn’t that a thing normal people do? Consider how others feel? And if he was really doing all this to make him feel better… he would hate to turn him down. He focused on Maxim again and his heart almost broke. He looks like a kicked puppy. No, he couldn’t say no to this, especially with how much he spent planning it.

“…Brock?”

“…Alright, I’ll do it. What time do you want me to be there?”

Maxim visibly perked up. “11:00 P.M.!”

Brock made sure to set an alarm when he got home.

———————————————————————————————————————

At the “party”, more like a private get-together for two, it was pretty calm. It was located in the aforementioned crafting room, which looked more like a repurposed basement, but even for a basement it was pretty large. There was an old TV on a stand in front of a couch that looked older than the TV. There was a table with a lamp in the corner, as well as multiple clear containers of bracelets and beads. The floor had carpet, but the walls were pretty much uncovered. Overall, the atmosphere was surprisingly homey. Most of the time remaining was spent watching whatever was on the TV before turning it to the Earth Broadcast Channel that he had on his old TV. Maxim spent a few more minutes making more Kandi bracelets while Brock watched. It was mesmerizing to see how he made them. Overall, the entire thing was uneventful. Brock couldn't have asked for anything more.

A few minutes before the end of the year (at least on Earth), they both turned their attention back to the EBC, seeing the camera broadcasting the large crowds of people cheering, gathered in a city that, honestly, they didn't know the name of. Confetti littered the streets and there was a large structure that looked like a gigantic disco ball on top of a tall structure.

“Wow, they really take this “end of the year” thing seriously, huh?” Maxim asked.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, they really do.” Brock tried to look like he was interested in the TV, but internally he was boiling in his feelings. He didn't have butterflies anymore, he had an entire solarium. He looked over at Maxim to see if he could notice. His eyes were glued to the TV, mesmerized by a celebration that he had never seen recorded before. In that moment, Brock got an idea. Not voluntarily. This idea kept growing and growing in the back of his mind over time and got stronger every day. No matter how much he tried to push it back down to its original size, it just made it stronger. God, he hated this idea, but it was going to get out of him one way or another. After mustering as much confidence as he could with his current mindset, he turned to Maxim. “Hey, Max?”

Maxim snapped out of staring at the TV. “Yeah?”

“Ummm… I uhhhmmm…… okay, can you do something for me?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I, uhh, need you to psych me up. As hard as you can. And don’t stop doing it until I get enough courage to… do it.”

“Do what?”

“Um… you’ll know.”

Maxim happily obliged and started to speak words of affirmation to Brock. “C’mon Brock! You can do it, not exactly sure what, but i’m sure you'll be able to do it anyway!”

Brock started taking deep breaths, readying himself and praying that he can gain the courage to not choke on his own words.

“Come on!! You can do it!! Just keep breathing, you'll get there!!” Maxim was practically shouting words of encouragement by now. “Come on!! Do it, do it, DO IT!!!”

Let’s hope this works.

“DO IT! DO IT! DO I-”

“I like you!”

Maxim looked surprised for a moment, before asking him to repeat himself. “What?”

“I… like you,” Brock repeats, taking deep breaths like it took all his energy to say that. “I don’t know when these feelings started, or if they’ll ever end. I just… like being around you. You always seem to be like this, optimistic person, and I strived to be like that. I started looking up to you because of that, but I guess while I did, I also found… other reasons to like you, too. Romantically, I mean. So… I like you. And I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same way, and I didn’t want to misread the situation and… accidentally jeopardize our friendship. I’ve never had a friendship, a real one, in so long, and I just… didn’t want to ruin it so soon. So I just… kept quiet. For a while. Until now. By some random boost of confidence, I decided that I wanted to tell you how I feel about you. And regardless of if you feel the same way or not,” Brock stares at the floor. “I wanted to get this off my chest before… I wouldn't be able to.”

Brock was silent for a while, dreading the lack of words coming from Maxim’s side of the room. The silence was deafening. He could feel his ears starting to ring. He could feel the blood rush to his face as he felt like he was either going to cry or pass out. He felt sick. He didn’t want to lose Max. He didn't like losing anyone. He hated losing people. He finally started the first friendship he had since a year after he moved here, the first real friendship in years… and it was going end because he had too much reassurance in how he felt. His mind spiraled further and further into the pit of alternate choices he could've made that would’ve helped him avoid this. He could feel his heart sinking into his stomach, but before it could reach the bottom, Maxim spoke after what felt like hours.

“No way, I like you too!”

His honesty hit him like a truck and brought him back to reality. “… Really??”

“Yeah! Honestly, I feel like it was a slow progression of more and more positive feelings that I got only when I was around you. I started feeling more like hanging out with you whenever I felt sad or upset, and I would feel better as soon as I saw you. You also have this… emotional maturity that I wish I had, seeing you offer these well-put and well-thought out solutions to any problems me or my siblings or my friends have makes me wish I could have what you have that makes it look so easy. And…” Maxim starts to blush as he looks away, embarrassed. “I love making you happy… because whenever you're happy… you have this… adorable smile. Your eyes light up in a way that makes me feel… dizzy, almost. And your laughter? Oh my gosh, I feel like I could listen to it all day. It just makes me feel happier seeing you smile, but I was afraid that you weren’t romantically interested in someone like me… someone immature...”

“I was scared you just hung out with me out of pity or something!”

Maxim paused. “…Why?”

“I—” Brock thought for a moment. In his shock, he forgot about how he even came to that conclusion in the first place. “I… don’t know.”

Maxim scoots closer to Brock and reassuringly puts his hand on his. “Well, it’s okay. Looks like we were both scared of nothing, huh?”

Be still his beating heart. “Heh, yeah…” Brock stared at his feet, as a familiar uncertainty started to creep into his thoughts. Even though he pretty much outright told him, he still needed to make sure. “… do you really mean that? You actually… like-like me?”

“Yeah dude! I like-like you. I guess… I love you.”

Brock's heart was beating a mile a minute at how fast he admitted it. His blush was covering his whole face at this point. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard and it felt like the room was 100 degrees hotter. Was this real??? He suddenly focused on Maxim. His face was so close. He couldn't stop staring at his eyes. …His eyes. Those wonderfully blue eyes. Those beautifully ethereal colors. They seemed to look even more beautiful than they were before. The soothing effects of his eyes still remained, as Brock’s heartbeat finally started to slow down. It felt like the world was still, like a huge weight was off his shoulders, like he could finally breathe now, but at the same time it felt like a whole new weight was settling directly on top of his lungs that was making it hard to breathe again. His gaze slowly shifted to his lips, and he tried multiple times to keep eye contact, but his eyes felt like betraying him today. Of all days. Maxim looked confused for a moment before following where his eyes were staring at. He picked up pretty quickly on what he was thinking, blush starting to fade into his skin.

“…H-hey Max?”

Maxim clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“C-can… I, uh… uhm…,” Brock knew it was too early, he knew this was his first kiss, but he didn't care. All he wanted right now was to feel this from the only person who felt the same way. Love. But he didn't even know if Maxim even wanted to kiss eithe-

Maxim caresses Brock’s hand. “Hey, we can take this slow if you want. You look like you're about to pass out. If you're not ready yet, we don't have to kiss right now if you don't want to-”

“NO!” Brock felt embarrassed at how he practically screamed the answer. He lowered his voice. “No… I want to kiss too… but I just… feel nervous…” Brock looked at his shaking hands as Maxim gently held and squeezed them reassuringly, Brock’s heart fluttering at the simple gesture, but this time he had no reason to ignore it. His gaze traveled from his arms to his face, and he felt calm again as he saw those eyes staring back at him.

“Don’t be.”

They both slowly inch their faces closer, closing their eyes as they closed the space between them, their lips connecting into a soft kiss, as the timer on the TV reached zero. Maxim leaned closer to him to deepened the kiss slightly. Brock, obviously new to this, didn't know how to handle this but tried to mirror his movements. After a few seconds of silence were caused by the buffering broadcast, then it was broken again by the applause coming back from the televised crowd. They both pulled away from each other to catch their breath, Brock breathing harder than Maxim. His face was red from the extremely unfamiliar moment shared between the two of them. Maxim notices how much Brock was breathing, and motions for him to rest on his shoulder, and after a few more seconds of gaining his composure, he accepts the offer. He awkwardly shifts over and leans against Maxim's shoulder, his body relaxing after Maxim’s arm is draped around him.

After a few seconds of watching the live TV footage of the cheering crowds, Maxim decides to break the silence.

“So,” Maxim finally said. “How does this feel?”

Brock is silent as he takes time to consider the question. After a few seconds, he says his answer in a hushed whisper, smiling as he rests his head deeper into Maxim’s shoulder. “…perfect…”

—————————————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed this! I’ll be posting the lone cover art tomorrow morning! 🥦❤️❄️

#no good thing #shorts #original story #brock l. floret #maxim torres #writeblr #ngt shorts

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risustravelogue · 1 year

Text

Something I wrote and doodled to finish my storyline in @zhongrin's EBG afterparty.

Enjoy~ 💚

cw: blood, creature death

“Albedo.”

The blond alchemist solemnly looks up from his sketchbook to the source of the thundering voice: a brown-haired tall man in white-gold attire floating in the air, his presence alone causing the earth to quake.

Albedo’s lips curve into a smile. “So you’ve come at last.”

Zhongli chuckles. “So I have. You should’ve known better than to run into my territory.” Black-gold polearms manifest from thin air. “Now, are there any… friends you wish to send to their deaths?”

“You mean sending you to your death, ex-archon?” taunts the voice behind him. He turns around and sees a dragon—if it can be called a dragon, considering its mangled shape—with someone who looks exactly like Albedo riding on top of it.

Zhongli’s lips form a calm smile. “Oh, are you the Dorian people have been talking about? My, my. You’re so… rash. Reminds me of my younger days.”

The polearms flit through the air toward the creature as Zhongli’s form shifts into one of a brown-gold dragon. “Now let me show you the power of the Prime of Adepti.”

Dorian scoffs. “Good decision, ex-archon. You’re no match for our chimera otherwise.”

The two dragons exchange blows in the air, their focus locked onto each other. Albedo chuckles and walks to the hut where his “beloved” is sleeping. Suddenly, a lone arrow pierces through the ground in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. A looming figure approaches him from behind.

“Not so fast, alchemist,” Alhaitham says, sword pointed toward Albedo’s back.

The blond scoffs and turns. “I suppose this stick is a gift from your wife. So much for ‘we intend you no harm,’ scribe.”

Alhaitham lowers his sword. “We haven’t actually harmed you, though.”

“True.”

“And you have been so engrossed in preparing for the confrontation with Zhongli, you didn’t realize that a certain moth had taken Rin’s Vision off your personage.”

“Wha—”

A loud boom echoes across the air, interrupting their conversation. The chimera lays still under Zhongli’s talons, its black blood gushing out of its fatal neck wound. Dorian lies unconscious beneath the larger body, having been knocked out by the sheer force of the larger dragon’s blow.

“Now stay,” he growls.

“Zhongli!”

He huffs and turns to the source of the voice.

“Alhaitham.”

“Kurisu has Rin.” The scribe gestures to the alchemist. “What do you want to do with him?”

The dragon shakes his head. “He can’t win against me, and he knows that. We don’t need to do anything anymore.”

He raises one of his talons and wipes the black blood off his face.

“As a show of mercy, I’ll let you say your goodbyes.”

Albedo picks up his abandoned sketchbook from the ground and begins imprinting the magnificent sight of the Geo Archon’s dragon form onto the paper. Even if I’ve lost, I can still gain something from this, he thinks.

The frantic scratching of pencil on paper stops when two women come out of the run-down hut, the sound of their feet shuffling through the yellow-green grass breaking the sounds of nature. The short-haired woman nods and lets the long-haired woman move forward on her own. Albedo catches a familiar glint of a Vision from behind her shawl and the glitter of the silvery dust on her fingers.

Ah. I’ve been thoroughly defeated.

But he’s nothing if not resilient, so—

One last smile. One last time—

He waves his hand at her, forcing a small smile on his lips. She smiles and waves back at him. Then as her vision clears, her gaze grows sad, with tears now threatening to spill from the corner of her eyes.

“You’re not… him.”

“No, I am not.”

“Where is he?”

Albedo gestures to the archon, who’s now back in his human form.

“Mei.”

“Li! You’re here!”

With a nod from the scribe, Albedo carefully slips away as Zhongli and Meirin run into each other’s embrace. He pulls Dorian from beneath the dead chimera and treks back toward Dragonspine. His steps come to a halt as he looks back at the four’s reunion before disappearing back into the snowstorm, a fond smile growing on his lips.

It was good while it lasted.

#that wraps it up!#that was a fun week that held my burnt-out ass together haha #i mean puzzles and coded messages??? *eats them like snack*#hope you like this :3 #kurisu writes: archived #kurisu doodles

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safyresky · 9 months

Note

Fic writer asks 4, 11, 18, and 19? :D

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! What a fun distraction for the looming desk shift! 🥳🥳

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Literally anywhere. My brain is just constantly churning out scenarios and making little stories as I go about my day. It can be anything from a typo, like FROG warning instead of FOG warning, to seeing a trope or idea someone talked/posted about and going hmm. I wonder how this would work with THESE blorbos...

And also in nature! Like, if I'm on a drive and stop by a waterfall or trail or garden or anything like that, ideas aren't too hard to come by! they just kind of SPAWN. Beaches are NOTORIOUS for this (when I'm not sleeping on them lol).

11. Link your three favourite fics right now

So I am admittedly much less of a fic reader these days 😳😳😳 so I don't really have THREE fave fics rn, but a handful of goodies I recently read, as well as mother fucking MILLER'S LAW!

Miller's Law by @kscribbs has been on LOOP in my BRAIN since it went up in March and I am OBSESSED. I can't stop thinking about it. It CONSUMES ME. I want to do art about it. That's how bad I have it! K is HUGELY talented and I have such a strong urge to know EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING going on in ML 😍

I've been enjoying Chance and Choice by @lmelodie! The way they have magic working in the fic is like. I am ENTHRALLED with it. I am so afraid for Lucy and what's gonna happen next, it's DELIGHTFUL. The OCs are all so FUN! Half of them live rent free in my brain. It's GREAT.

I'm slowly making my way through a Good Omens fic called Reviews of AZ Fell and Co Antiquarian and Unusual Books and by making my way, I mean reading very, very slowly. It's a two parter (I think) and I'm STILL on part one. But it's delightful!

OH and I read a really enthralling Critical Role fic the other day for campaign 3, it was a long oneshot and I was HOOKED. It's called Capable, Exalted: A Primary Source History of the Ruidian Solstice and my GOD was I HOOKED. It had me by the THROAT! THE THROAT! PLUS THE DOODLES????? IT WAS AMAZING. New fear unlocked: Imogen doing some uh. self sacrificing BS whenever they get back to the Malleus Key 😵😵😵

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Usually during the writing! I'll put in a placeholder until the title hits me, and generally that tends to happen about halfway through writing. I come up with titles by vibes?? Like, I'll write a chapter and usually base the chapter title on an event that is happening in it, OR the most mundane thing mentioned in the chapter (see: Jacqueline's Cat and Fae Brand versus Second Chances or Whiteout!)

SOMETIMES the title hits me right away. Like with Fog Warning. That one was like. BOOM. RIGHT THERE. Same with Frostmas, that one was ALSO like. Right there the MOMENT I started writing it! And when it's a good title, my GOD does it HIT

19. What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Definitely OCs lmao. That and redemption arcs!

#dani answers #sapphireswimming #THANK YOU for sending this in! as well as the other two lmao #i wish you coulda heard the happy cackle i did when i saw all three in a ROW ahgchdhvberb #I'll probably send more your way! probably >:)#ask box shenanigans #about me

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dzmoot · 23 days

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Well, March was certainly an interesting month but it's time to get back to the tales of the Tuuns. I have many stories in the pipeline, but for now, I have a special treat. While cleaning my basement the other day, I came across several pictures I have done in the past. Severally water damaged and faded to high heaven, I fixed them up and decided to showcase them here today. Some you'll recognize, others you've never gazed at and some might very well be the first drawings I've ever done of that specific character. Either way, I think you'll enjoy them.

MOON OF TOONS DOODLES, CONCEPTS AND NONSENSE 2

Wonder Warriors

Reggie Fastshell, the Snail Speedster. He originally dripped mucus from his arms and mouth and sported a cape.

The first drawing I did of POW! Panda. As you can see, his ears were much bigger but he still retains his trademark jetpack and blasters.

Amphibislash took on a more Ninja Turtle like appearance even though he was a bullfrog with Wolverine claws. Probably one of the few times you'll see him sporting a smile given his cantankerous personality.

Now this character was originally meant to be a villain to POW! Panda called Koalabog (or Koalaborg). However, being a lifelong Koala lover, I couldn't bring myself to antagonize a gentle creature. I think this guy eventually evolved into the sun surfing koala, Kool Walla!

The first drawing of Teddyclops (originally a Halloween die-cut I designed around 2016). Not much has changed with this guy.

Alien Inhabitants

I like to think these are some of the creatures we'd see looming about the evil Lord Bliss Torbelly's castle.

Probably seen this guy in the past. This is one of the crew members of the starship Hovering Horse named Scratchitanius. It's obvious who the sci-fi character was who inspired him. Live long and pros-purrr!

Same with these two. You have the worrywart humanoid robot and the stubborn trashcan robot, only this guy has a tiny alien inside of him with a bulging eye. He keeps his eye on things for sure.

This guy, Sank Survivikus is a vampire ninja and could very well be the sensei of Samur-Eye! Alien vampires hail from the planet Stokeron with no sun in sight and everyday is evening.

Esmeralda is a bounty hunter from Boolikonk and wears a glass helmet over her head. She can breathe fine in space without it, she just wears it so she doesn't mess up her erect Marge Simpson hairdo!

Zoob Noopincher is a mysterious alien who I can very well picture roaming around the Blue Sand Planet, scavenging for trinkets and slaying giant worms with his trident. His species, the Nuix need a high protein diet to survive after all!

RAZLAOBO DWELLERS

A sketch from 2018 depicting Grinkin and Nogg's arrival towards Razlaobo. I liked to depict the stars flashing by in great yellow squiggles of light as the balloon races towards the planet at breakneck speed. The balloon, which is actually called the Spacefloaty can actually change it's face patterns depending on the speed it's going at.

Good old Frigglesnaff was the one who helped the Socktompets escape the Machete Ridge bar. He had pink fur around his feet originally but remained mostly the same. Kinda like the body of Fozzie Bear with the head of the alien from the movie Can of Worms!

When the Socktompets and Frigglesnaff returned to Razlaobo following their adventure on Kowratha's ship, they all returned to their normal appearances and didn't have to worry about the vile hellions tormenting them ever again since the Mitziwonker's influence over the planet dissipated, restoring the planet back to it's peaceful glory.

Hallow End Inhabitants

This guy, officially known as Stormskull is very mysterious. It's not known if he's a zombie or a mutant with an exposed skull but he doesn't make a sound, not even a grunt or growl or snarl like others of the zombie mutant variety. He was a good friend of Baxter Bladely at Goreycrest Academy and got good marks despite being illiterate.

Hallow End has it's own superheroes. In this universe, the horrible killers of slasher movies are in fact the crime fighters, sporting colorful costumes and apparel to boot. Now it's unknown for the time being whether Spider-Man, Batman, Captain America and the like are serial killers in this universe but it's a very enticing thought. There's Mighty Mike, Slashman and the gallant leader Captain Jace!

Of course, we can't forget about the Great Gourdo Head!

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beautifulxdamned · 8 months

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Wait is that (NEVEAH QUINN) that I see off in the distance? You know they have quite the reputation of being the (SPITFIRE) around the island, but to me they seem like any other (LOCAL). I hear you can often find the (24) year old hanging around (DRIFTWOOD SANDS) or catch them when they aren’t busy working as a/an (BARISTA AT COSTAL COFFEE COMPANY, BARTENDER AT WHITE ROCK BREWPUB, SALES ASSOCIATE AT NOMADS SURF SHOP ). They may seem (THRIFTY & PENSIVE) but I hear that they can also be (GULLIBLE & EVASIVE). There may be a lot of faces here in the bay, but you’ll know who you’re dealing with if they remind you of (WORN OUT CONVERSE, SPIRITED DEBATES, FLIPPING OFF THE CAMERA & POST IT NOTES COVERED IN DOODLES OR REMINDERS) [Brittany O'grady, Cisfemale, She/Her]

QUICK STATS

Full Name: Neveah Adelle Quinn Nickname(s): Eve & Nevvy DOB / Zodiac: January 10th 1999 / Capricorn Orientation: Pansexual Hometown: Celestial Bay, North Carolina Positive Traits: Thrifty, Pensive & Intelligent Negative Traits: Gullible, Evasive & Intrusive Languages: English

BACKGROUND

tw: pregnancy, abortion, drugs, alcohol, depression, neglect

Neveah was an unplanned pregnancy. Conceived by her mother, a fourth generation Celestial Bay townie and her father, a vacationer who had decided to take an impromptu summer trip to the beautiful coast. The two had hit it off instantly and within a month he had convinced the women who had never seen anything other than the Bay that he was going to whisk her away, take her to the big city with him when he returned home... only that never happened.

Three weeks after his departure she had found out that she was pregnant with Neveah. She opted into keeping the baby and although she swears that Neveah's father was aware of her existence the girl had always had a suspicion, perhaps a glimmer of hope, that he was unaware. If he was unaware of her birth than he hadn't made an active decision to abandon her and that made the idea easier to handle in her mind.

Her mother gave Neveah her fathers last name, despite the man being a virtual stranger to the child. She claimed that it would provide her with more opportunities in life... Neveah believed that it was a last ditch effort to grab the mans attention, with hopes of the man whisking her and her daughter away to greener pastures.

However that never happened and the women made do with what she had to provide a decent life for her child. It was a happy childhood from what little Neveah could remember, however the year of her thirteenth birthday things took a devastating turn.

Her mother fell into a dark depression, perhaps it had always been looming on the edge. The women turned to prescription pills and alcohol as a coping mechanism. She lost her job and and rarely came out of her room unless it was to retrieve another bottle of something or another, leaving her thirteen year old to not only raise herself but to also support her mother.

She started to work multiple jobs. Neighbors who felt bad for the girl giving her odd things to do here and there to keep a roof above their heads and food in their stomachs. By the age of seventeen she was spreading herself to thin. While her friends were attending parties and enjoying their last years of high school, planning for their future she was struggling working for jobs, fighting with bill collectors and still attempting to excel at school, after all a scholarship was her only hope of escaping this place.

Finally in her Senior year, despite being incredibly intelligent she found herself dropping out of high school, she simply couldn't juggle it all anymore and with the state her mother had fallen into over the years the option to leave even if she had secured a scholarship was void.

She threw herself into work and taking care of her mother. Distancing herself from her friends, not like they had much in common anymore anyways, and fell into a lonely routine.

Perhaps that was the reason it was so easy for the vacationer to woo her at the age of twenty-two. Sending her into the same foggy haze her mother had endured all those years ago. Although Neveah was smitten with the man she never once believed that they would wind up together. He was a fun fling, something to take the edge off for the summer.

A rule of thumb in Neveah's life though was if something could go wrong than it was bound to and oh boy did it. In her careless moment of living her own life she had gotten knocked up. She had struggled with what to do. Did she tell the father? Would it even make a difference? He was set to leave the island in two weeks, more than likely never to be seen again. She decided to tell him, quickly following the confession with her plan to get an abortion. It wasn't necessarily a decision that she was happy about but she knew that her plate was already full and she wasn't about to have her own child suffer the same fate she had. The father agreed with her and as she had expected he left in two weeks time, never to be heard from again. She scheduled the abortion shortly after his departure.

She threw herself back into her work, determined never to speak of her stupidity again. However she did allow herself to have a little fun between the mountains of work that she was doing, if only to prevent such a thing from happening again.

EXTRAS

Neveah is extremally intelligent. She enjoys literature and strategy based games along with debating people even if they don't want to be in a debate.

She also extremally artistic. She enjoys listening to and analyzing music. She's taught herself both guitar and piano simply from listening to music notes. She also enjoys drawing and painting. People say that she has the potential to thrive if only her wings hadn't been clipped at such a young age.

She knows how to have a good time but she's definitely the mom friend. Perhaps it's due to the fact she's been caring for others since she was still a child herself.

She holds a sense of entitlement about herself. She often finds herself crossing lines that perhaps other locals wouldn't. Inviting herself to Vacationer exclusive events because deep down she feels like it's her rightful place, one she was robbed of... her father was one of them after all.

Connections ○ Pinterest ○ Playlist ○ Musings ○ Threads

#(It's Time To Split The Things I Do From What I Used To Do |○| Neveah Quinn Past Reflection)#tw.pregnancy #tw.abortion #tw.drugs #tw.alcohol #tw.neglect #tw.depression

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 3 years

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Kissing / Making Out HC’s

Pairing: Kaminari x reader

Warnings: Just a ton of kissing, making out, and mentions of groping (I talk about boobs, uh oh). Still gender/sex neutral

Author’s Note:

Almost didn't have anything ready for this week, but this one only took me a few hours to write up, so here you go! This may end up being my Valentines Day fic. Idk, we’ll see. I haven’t been feeling well lately :/

Enjoy

-Sugar

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● I think this goes without saying, but

● Denki is an absolute s u c k e r for kisses

● As soon as you get together, he wants them constantly

● And who are you to deny him?

● He really doesn't mind PDA (he kinda likes it, actually, getting to show off that he has an s/o)

● So, unless you're uncomfortable with it, he'll kiss you no matter where you are or who you're with (especially around his friends)

● But as I said, if you're not interested, he'll respect that

● It just means he gets to love on you more when you're finally alone together!

● Kaminari loves your lips. Big or small, soft or dry, he's staring at them from across the room, just thinking about when he can kiss them again

● Boy is devoted to you, you don't leave his mind

● After he started dating you, Denki applies lip balm religiously

● He usually goes with vanilla flavors, but he also likes fruity ones

● And he makes special note of what you like. If he knows you'll be kissing soon, he'll pull out your favorite chapstick of his just to make sure he's extra tasty for you

● His 👏 lips 👏 are 👏 so 👏 soft 👏

● Every now and then they'll get a little chapped, but he's pretty good about exfoliating them when they do

● He wants to make sure you have the best kissing experience with him at all times, so he stays on top of things

● Not only does Denki like receiving kisses, he likes giving them as well

● Cheek kisses are his go-to. If you were to keep track, I'd say he'd give you a cheek kiss at least fifteen times a day, if he's around you that much

● Morning kisses, hello kisses, goodbye kisses—a lot of them end up on your cheeks

● But he also loves kissing your nose! He sees those as more intimate kisses, so usually he saves them for when you're cuddling together

● He just loves the way your face scrunches up in a grin when he does it >w<

● He loves to smother your face with little pecks, and he especially likes to tease you by kissing anywhere but your mouth until you get frustrated

● But he doesn't have that much self-control, so he may just kiss your lips soon enough anyway, if you're patient

● You can expect him to prelude a ton of kisses with either a joke or a pick up line. He thinks he’s being smooth (he’s really not), but he loves seeing you happy and giggling

● He also likes to zap you jus a teeny bit here and there. Never enough to hurt (he'd cry if he ever hurt you), but just enough to surprise you

● Sometimes he accidentally static-shocks you when you kiss, especially right after he used his quirk, so that can sting a bit. He always apologizes when it happens and offers you more kisses

● He likes sweet kisses, especially the ones during or right after dates, where he just gets to close his eyes and let the world fall away into nothing but your warm lips. He likes wrapping his hands around your waist to pull you close, and tilt your chin so he can get the perfect angle on your mouth

● Sometimes he smiles and giggles while you're kissing, and that can make it a little difficult to stay on his lips. But it's so darn cute, you have no intentions of ever telling him to stop

● He loves making out with you. So much

● He likes to “set the scene” if he has time, but it’s usually just dimming the lights a little (he's not above making out to music tho, so if you're interested, he'll be happy to deliver)

● But just having you in your or his room with him, on the bed with you on his lap, kissing you slow for all you're worth—

● Fantastic, easily one of his favorite parts of the relationship

● And he likes the hungry kisses too, where he pins you to the mattress (or you pin him; he's into both 👀) and it's all just sloppy tongue and teeth

● 😞👌

● If you allow it, his hands will be all over your body

● If you possess boobs (no matter the size), he's touching them

● With permission ofc

● I headcanon him to be a boob/chest guy (I mean, he loves all of you, but come on. Boobs. Need I say more?)

● Buuuut, he's also touching your butt. Homeboy's a groper

● He likes to grab handfuls of you wherever they may wander, squeezing your warm flesh around his fingers

● You may have to tell him at first not to do it so hard

● He's a hornee boi, so he likes to make out with you a few times a week. If you have to miss a couple of sessions, he'll get grumpy and you'll have to make it up to him (with extra kissies, ofc)

● If you were to pin him to the wall and passionately kiss him, he'd probably die from how hot he found it. Or he’d just short-circuit

● Any time you kiss him, he'll melt

● He loves kissing you, but there's something a little extra special about when it’s you initiating

● It makes him feel so loved, even if you just walk up to him and peck his forehead

● It's important to him not only that he loves you, but that you love him back just as much. That's what makes him go 🥺🥺

● He simps for one person and one person only now, and it's you

● Extra: He draws fanart of you and him kissing in his free time 👀 just little doodles in the margins of his notebooks. Aizawa always makes a face whenever Denki accidentally leaves one on his homework but otherwise doesn’t say anything

The overhead light is turned off, a screensaver on his monitor providing a soft glow to the bed opposite in the room. You're seated comfortably on his lap, his hands lightly resting on your ass.

He starts with simple pecks on your lips, each one lingering longer against your skin, heavier in pressure. He's soft but moist, warm underneath where his saliva had cooled in the temperature of the room. An electricity seems to dance between you, and you're not sure if it's just your imagination or if he really is using his quirk.

Finally his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and you grant him access. Your fingers lace through his hair, displacing the black lightning bolt that had been shaped so perfectly among the golden-blond strands. His tongue comes into contact with yours, touching and licking before securing itself behind your teeth. You're drawn even closer to him, locked in a wet embrace as his hands squeeze.

He could never get enough of you, enough of this feeling. He was obsessed with the way his heart still pounded in his chest, obsessed with the way fireworks went off in his stomach no matter how many times he'd done this before. All it took was a touch, a kiss, a squeeze, and he was gone. In moments like these, you were the only thing that mattered. Not his failures, not his inadequacies, not the stress of school. Just you, and only you.

One of his hands moved to cup your cheek, keeping you close while the other slid down your thigh. He released your lips, only to come back for more more more, desperate to show you how much he loved you, how badly he needed you. A whimper escaped him, swallowed by the kiss but present nonetheless. You answered in your own pretty little moan, fingers alighting on the base of his skull to pull him ever forward into you.

He could stay here forever, drowning in your taste, your touch, your scent. What harm would it be?

Kaminari picked you up, turning you over and laying you down softly onto his bed. He quickly loomed over you, supported by an arm on either side of your head as he dove in for another kiss.

Forever was a long time, so maybe he'd start with tonight.

His thumb traced along your cheekbone, lips still pushing and pulling against yours. He loved the way you caged his hips in with your thighs, keeping him in place. Loved how your hands softly rested by your head on his pillow.

He paused, suddenly realizing just how lightheaded he was. Reluctantly, he pulled back for air, chest expanding and contracting with each soft breath.

You were under him. He was so thankful it was you. He'd never witnessed a person so beautiful—never experienced lips so addictive, so kissable. You were intoxicating, the way your shining eyes locked with his as your own hand came up to trace his face.

Even in the low light, he could make out every feature he loved—from your nose to your cheeks to your chin, nothing escaped his gaze.

"I love you," you whispered to him, and just like every other time you said it, he knew it was true.

"I love you too," he whispered back, because that was also true. How couldn't it be?

He kissed you once more before shifting to his side, pulling you into his arms where he knew you'd be safe and warm.

'I love you' hummed through his every nerve as he showered your skin with his love—your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. All of it perfection in his eyes, and he wished nothing would change.

You nestled into his neck, your hot skin brushing over his own.

"Sleepy?" he asked, rubbing your back.

He felt you nod, and he couldn't help but smile. Burying his nose in your hair, he inhaled your scent. It was nights like these when he truly knew what the word 'comfort' meant, since he felt it to the very marrow of his bones.

Absolutely nothing could compare to the way it felt to have you fall asleep in his arms. Your breaths began to even out as his hands continued to wander, intent on caressing you and worshiping every inch of skin he was able to touch.

Even before he pulled the blanket over your shoulders, you were warm. Drifting off to sleep in his arms, his lips still lazily pressing kisses to your hair, you felt content.

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Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicaegyo @hyunmin-1404 @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @sxngwoos-ash-box @xoxopam4

#denki kaminari #kaminari denki #kaminari headcanons #denki headcanons #kaminari imagine #denki imagine #denki kaminari imagine #denki x reader #kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #request fulfilled!#sugar fics #sugar hcs

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thelittlequeerpumpkinwitch · 3 years

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Title: Six Wordless Ways To Say I Love You

Ships: Moceit, Moxiety, Loceit, Logince, Royality, Dukexiety.

Summary: Snippets of soft moments between randomized pairings, featuring random prompts from this list. Mostly could be platonic or romantic, whatever floats your personal boat. aka I’m gradually training myself to write again.

Note To Self: Greatly expand on how Janus is so pretty that a single sleepy smile turns Logan into a melted puddle of a man. @treeni

26. Doing a chore for them that you know they aren't fond of.

Janus pauses halfway down the stairs as the rumble of the vacuum stops suddenly, and is followed by the softest murmur of pain. Patton rubs his wrists and wiggles his fingers, a faint grimace on his face. Janus waits for Patton to start wheeling the vacuum away before he continues down the stairs. Next Thursday, Patton walks into the living room to find Janus already vacuuming. His protests are easily brushed off; Janus insists that he’s more than capable of handling a few chores. They’re all supposed to be working and living together now, are they not? He rather enjoys vacuuming, anyway, and he simply won’t be persuaded from it. He finds it horrible tedious, actually, but the warmth and appreciate in Patton’s smile make it more than worth the trouble.

17. Folding their clean laundry and putting it away.

Virgil tries his best to keep his room put together. He doesn’t like leaving it messy or cluttered; he worries about tripping, worries about losing something important, worries about what the others will think. But some days he just can’t. He tells himself for every day for nearly a week that he’s going to fold that pile of clothes on his chair, but each night he sleeps a little less, his anxiety spikes a bit more, and the task seems more and more daunting. The inevitable crash hits; he sleeps well into the afternoon, and when he finally hauled himself upright, he found the looming pile of clothing mysteriously missing, and his room smelling strongly of fresh baked cookies. He finds the plate of sweets and a sticky note on his nightstand. Hey there, kiddo! You seemed kinda down lately so I made you Patton’s Patented Pick Me Up Cookies! I also folded your laundry for you, I hope that’s okay! I just thought you could use a break from chores. He even signed it with a doodle of his logo. Virgil smiles as he reaches for his cookie, the weight on his shoulders suddenly feeling a bit lighter.

18. Sharing a soft smile across the room.

Logan stands in the kitchen, looking out on the aftermath of movie night. Popcorn still litters the couch from a jump scare that shook Patton particularly hard. The coffee table is pushed against the far wall, to make space for the honestly absurd amount of mismatched blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals that the rest of the sides are sprawled across - a tangled mess of limbs that Logan had so carefully extracted himself from only minutes before. His chest almost ached with fondness, but it was tinged, as it often was, with regret. They had wasted so many years fighting and hiding from each other. Could it have always been like this, if they’d done things just a little differently ... ? Janus stirs, awakening with a wide yawn. His eyes drift lazily across the room, until they land on Logan, and Janus gifts him with a rare soft, unguarded smile. His train of thought is chased away by the sudden drumming of his heart, and his regrets are forgotten. What they have now is perfect, and he wouldn’t risk changing it for the world. Logan smiles back.

28. Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.

Roman sits cross legged in his chair, swaying from side to side. He frequently glanced up at Logan, checking for signs of frustration, and occasionally he remembered to take a sip from the caramel latte in his hand. He very much didn’t want to annoy Logan, but he also very much didn’t feel like being alone right now, and he was already using all of his willpower to keep from humming or drumming his fingers on anything. Logan barely seemed to know he was there, for the most part, aside from the rare glance. It was quiet, but not in the stifling the way Roman often found silence to be. It was ... companionable. Nice. Logan reaches for his coffee cup, only to frown when he realizes it’s empty. Without really thinking about it, Roman holds out his latte. Equally without thought, Logan leans over and takes a sip, offering a quiet “thank you” as he returns to his work. Roman resumes his fidgeting with a smile.

45. Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb.

Patton is trying. He knows that he’s only doing harm by keeping his emotions wound so tightly in his chest, and he know it will only get better if he shares them. But thirty years of repression is a hard habit to break, and sometimes it takes him a few days of building up to it before he can admit out loud that he’s sad or angry or hurt. Roman picks up on the signs of distress quickly now that he knows to look for them. When Patton startles a little at his entrance, gives him a smile that’s just a little too wide, and his cheerful tone comes out sharp-edged, Roman sits next to him and takes his hand in his. The tension gradually leaves Patton’s shoulders as Roman rubs calming circles on the back of his hand. He doesn’t ask yet, because he knows Patton still needs a little more time. They’ll talk when he’s ready; Roman doesn’t mind waiting it out with him.

Virgil’s never really understood Remus’ fascination with Rube Goldberg machines. Like yeah, sure, they’re kind of cool to look at, and they are really impressive feats of engineering. It’s not like he doesn’t appreciate Remus’ ingenuity, because he does. He’s an unsung genius, even if Virgil would never say so to his face, because Remus hates “mushy stuff.” What Virgil doesn’t get is how making them is any kind of fun. It’s so much hard work for such little payoff, and they make him so anxious, because what if he does something just slightly wrong and ruins the whole damn thing? Again? None of that stops from agreeing any time Remus asks him to help build one, though, because he isn’t really there for the machine. Virgil’s there for the way Remus’ eyes light up when he says yes, for the passion in his voice as he rambles about what each makeshift mechanism will do, and for the way he laughs with delight whenever something either works perfectly or fails spectacularly. For the way he winks when he catches Virgil watching him with open awe. Maybe Remus knows he doesn’t really care all that much about building machines, but Virgil knows he doesn’t actually need help building them at all.

9. Participating in their hobby even if it doesn't personally interest you.

#destinee's writing #sanders sides #ts fanfiction #moceit #moxiety #loceit #logince #royality #dukexiety #fic #janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #its 2am and i refuse to try and force myself into edit mode #so pardon any mistakes

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that-gt-and-vore-stuffs · 3 years

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Desires and Daydreams

Me: oh yeah I’ll have this edited and out by tomorrow morning! Also Me: Ha! Sike! Time fo post at night again :)

All in all I’m so sorry this took so long for me to get out. A busy week with ball fucked me over time and energy wise. However, I now have a full 7k word fic for y’all so that’s good! I quite literally just finished editing this so I hope it’s as good as my mind told me it was about two minutes ago. Especially considering it’s a little gift of sorts for the amazing @doodlevore (AKA I saw this gem of a drawing, flipped out for a hot minute, and then decided it was writing time) Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy and I hope I did your artwork justice Doodle :)

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Aw c’mon Doc!” the man halfheartedly whined as he attempted again to grab the small ‘medic’. Once more 2b had ducked under his hand, glaring up at him through his goggles. The taller of the two just laughed at the sight, near daggers of teeth glimmering through his toothy grin. No way in hell could he take that glare seriously like this. “You act like I was planning to hurt you. You really think I’m gonna hurt ya?”

“No,” 2b started, halting his words momentarily to dodge another attempted swipe at him. Getting caught by the man wouldn’t be the worst thing, sure - hell, he could name several things automatically worse than being grabbed by him in this hellscape of Nevada - however that did not mean that he wanted to be scooped up like some doll and put through whatever his teammate had in mind for him and the other two who were both currently busy dodging the taller’s other hand. Again his glare settled on the younger hacker. “But that does not mean I’m going to keel over and let you do whatever, Deimos. Now would you stop trying to grab us for five minutes!”

“But what’s the fun in that?” Deimos protested, swiping at Hank only for the shrunken mercenary to vault themself over his hand. Go figure, he was still going to be difficult. Hell, they all were. When he was the smallest of the group he was at their mercy and even went with it half the time, but the moment he got to have some fun they all decided to be as difficult as possible. In all honesty it wasn’t as bad as he was making it seem. Watching them run around like little mice was pretty entertaining. That didn’t mean he didn’t have plans he wanted to follow through with though! Whatever, he’d play their games for now. He’d get them eventually, and when he did he’d have his fun. “I’d stop if you all would just stand still for five seconds, but no. You all clearly wanna play so I’m gonna keep up the cat and mouse game we’ve got going.”

“But that- Deimos, you aren’t getting my point here at all!” 2b yelled up at the man, ducking under yet another swipe at him made by the youngest of their little crew. He was fairly certain it was impossible to miss what he was saying so either Deimos was less intelligent then he had grown to suspect over the years or he was flat out ignoring the man’s request to quit trying to grab them. A brief comparison of the two had crossed out the former option rather quickly. That cocky, smoking son of a gun. “Sanford! A little help?”

“Why me?” The Chad of a man yelled back as he scrambled to his feet after having to get down to avoid being grabbed. In the back of his mind he already had a sneaking suspicion as to why he was asked. He wasn’t stupid after all.

“He usually listens to you better than me!” The older hacker shot back, nearly running into Hank as he prepared himself for the next ‘attack’.

“So we’re playing that card now. Good to know.” Sanford grumbled softly, no real venom in his tone. 2b was right, at least in most contexts. He probably was the closest to Deimos out of them all and the other two’s usual intimidating approach to get Deimos to listen really wouldn’t work with them the size of the man’s hand. A sigh tugged itself from his throat as he directed his words up at the seemingly giant hacker. “Dei, c’mon now. Can’t you quit with the whole trying to grab us thing? It’s- AH!- not all that fun!”

“Damnit.” Deimos cursed under his breath, having missed Sanford yet again. Who knew trying to just grab his teammates would be so difficult. It was definitely fun, this little game of cat and mouse like in those old cartoons he’d managed to pirate, but it was still harder than he expected to actually grab them. Guess not everything gets to come easy. Or maybe he was going too easy… “Maybe not for you. Just stand still and make it easier on yourself if you’re having such a bad time.”

“That’s- Dei, you chucklehead, quit the games already and stop trying to grab us like rodents!”

Deimos just shook his head, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. His grin still stood proud on his face in all its sharp toothed glory. This was too much fun to give up so easily. Really, they expected him to quit the moment he started having fun? Please. He’d gone through too much to waste his opportunity. Getting his hands on shrinking tech had to be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, despite the difficulties and hurdles he had to jump to do such a thing. What had been a normal, boring day with no missions had turned into him watching his three shrunken teammates dash across the worn table while dodging his attempts to grab them. He was going to enjoy this, whether they liked it or not. Call this revenge for all the times he was teased for being the smallest out of all of them, or call it him being an ass. He didn’t care. For once the younger hacker wasn’t the small one in the group and boy did he have plans for it. Oh he had plans…

“Mmm…how ‘bout no.” Deimos hummed, slamming a hand down on the table next to 2b. Just as he’d hoped the man tensed, trying to keep himself steady on the shaking table. His eyes locked onto the temporarily paralyzed unofficial medic like a hawk’s to its prey, smirk morphing into a full on grin. Without hesitation he grabbed the man in a firm fist. There was one of the three. “Ha! Gotcha Doc~!”

“Mmgh- I can see that, Deimos. Now put me down!” 2BDamned didn’t shout at his teammates often. There were a few times he did, yes. Prime examples of such times included (but weren’t limited to) tracking blood all over the base, doing something absolutely reckless and facing the consequences, not following the plans they had for missions, etc. Not once had he expected to ever be yelling at one of them, specifically the smallest of their team, to put him down. Hank? Maybe. Sanford? Long shot but not impossible. Deimos? No. And yet here he was, trapped within the grasp of the younger hacker with seemingly no way to escape. It’s not like the little wiggling that his loose enough to be breathable yet tight confines could do was helping much.

“But what if I don’t wanna, Doc?” Deimos hummed, resting his other hand on the table for the first time in the past twenty-five minutes that he’d been trying to grab the others. “What if I wanna keep you trapped in my fist for the rest of the day huh? Maybe longer. It’s not like you can exactly free yourself, now can you? Huh? You gonna wiggle yourself out of my hand, 2b? Claw your way out like some baby kitten?”

“I swear to Jebus, once we’re back to normal I am going to kill you myself.” The dissenter growled, trying again to free himself from his confines. He could only imagine how utterly idiotic he looked, wiggling around like some fish out of water in Deimos’s hand. Talk about humiliating.

“Sure you will. Sure.” Deimos rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he thought through his next moves. He could just grab the other two and get on with his plans but…oh that ruined the fun of the chase! His plans and stomach could wait, he wanted to enjoy this just a little longer. Now what could he do to achieve such a thing? “And besides, that’s an ‘if’ to you, Doc. If you get back to normal. Can’t do that without my help after all, so maybe you should let me have my fun~”

“I will. Don’t think I- wait. What?” Well now that wasn’t something anyone stuck at four inches tall wanted to hear. Yes, he could probably figure out how the hell Deimos shrunk him (assuming that the hacker had gotten the information and technology from the AAHW) however Deimos had at least a bit of a point. Things would be so much easier, faster, and less dangerous if he just reversed whatever the hell he did. He….he fucking planned this. He- oh the younger hacker was in some deep shit once they were back and he was the smallest again.

“Mmm you heard me, 2b. Getting you three back requires the help of me, unless you’d rather be crushed under the boot of some agent trying to get back to normal yourselves.” Deimos hummed, his words practically swimming in cockiness. “And I don’t think any of us want that. So either you let me have my fun, or you three get to stay pocket sized until you do.”

“Deimos, don’t you even think about it.” Hank growled, eyes narrowing behind his goggles as he stepped closer to the hacker. Being this small was bad enough. It wasn’t like a MAG agent where they weren’t completely dwarfed in size. No. He was stuck the size of a fucking mouse being toyed with by their basically gigantic teammate. And to top it all off the threat of being stuck at this size now loomed over the mercenary’s head. Just fucking wonderful.

“Aw but what if I did, Hank?” The hacker asked with a raise of his eyebrow, turning his attention from the medic in his fist to the shrunken killing machine that was now glaring at him over his arm. It really was something else to see them so tiny when they usually towered over everyone. How the tables turn. “I would think this is a nice situation for you. So long as you’re hidden it’s not like the Agency could find you now. No ones gonna look for a four inch tall Hank, now are they- Hey! Sanford!”

The mentioned man’s head lifted from where he had landed on the table, 2b now laying next to him after a less than graceful ‘rescue’ from the younger hacker’s hand. His feet scrambled against the old table, attempting to gain enough traction to allow for him to stand. For a moment he looked as if he were trying to stand on ice, feet slipping out from beneath him. The doctor beside him wasn’t doing much better in the department of getting to his feet. Judging by the disappointed stare he felt burning two holes into his chest once he finally got to his feet, Hank wasn’t all that impressed with their sudden lack of coordination either. Wait, no. Hank could come later. Right now he had to deal with the giant Deimos that was currently pouting at him.

“Sorry Dei, but I’m siding with Doc here. Just put us back to normal before Hank decides to find a way to kill you at this size.” As Sanford spoke a tone far less confident then he had hoped for laced his words. Something that probably doomed him to not be listened to. Judging by the new level of cocky smeared across the hacker’s face? He was right too. Well shit. That didn’t help anything.

“Hmm…maybe but, and hear me out, I’ve got a better idea.” No one had to ask exactly what Deimos’ ‘better idea’ was. He was all too happy to demonstrate it, Hank quickly finding himself laying flat against the table with the hacker’s hand pinning him in place. The small shocked grunt from the mercenary didn’t go unnoticed by the other two, their eyes darting to their now trapped teammate. Both failed to notice the brief warning look in Hank’s eyes behind his goggles until it was too late, a warm calloused hand pinning them to the rough grain of the wood. Well, there went the idea of escape.

A sharp laugh chased away the silence that had previously filled the air. Beneath the rim of his visor two eyes simply watched as the three small forms writhed beneath his hands. Proof of the point he had been trying to prove. The point that his three shrunken teammates had wanted to be false. No way to escape now. Not unless he allowed for it, that is. A small lightbulb lit up in his head at the thought. The idea was tempting, were he to be completely honest with himself. Give his friends hope only to crush it like a spent cig under his boot once more by trapping them in a new way. Oh but then there was the option of dangling freedom just in front of them. That was an idea…and there were so many more possibilities too. In the back of his head a small voice attempted to grab Deimos’ attention. Yelling at him in every way it could think of that even thinking about doing that to his friends was wrong, even if it was playful at its roots. He shouldn’t do such a thing to them! Though, thinking logically, there was no way they wouldn’t do the same or something similar were their positions switched. Deimos knew that much, being the shortest of their gang. A soft scoff sounded from his throat, mind made up on the matter. Unfortunately for the three pinned to the table, in the end the voice of reason was all too easily ignored by the younger hacker as he adjusted to lean forward in his chair. The smell of cigarette smoke grew in strength with each hum that passed the man’s lips, the three pinned beneath his hands only able to watch as things seemed to get worse for them.

“Heh. Much better.” Deimos said with a smile, gladly ignoring the glares he was now getting from his little friends. “Now what shall I do with you-“

Ggnnnrrrr……

“-three….”

Anyone with half a mind would think that after being interrupted by your stomach you would be embarrassed and most likely apologize. The three shrunken men on the table thought that after being interrupted by his stomach Deimos would be embarrassed and probably laugh it off. Maybe even give them a chance to run without thinking. What they didn’t expect was for him to start laughing. A deep chuckle from the back of his throat too, not just an embarrassed little giggle. It was a genuine fucking laugh. First off, why the hell was he laughing? Second, what the hell did that mean for them? After a moment of thought one thing became clear. As much as they didn’t want to admit it, the three knew what the answer to the second question was long before it was even asked. Nothing good. That’s what it meant. Especially not with that dumb grin still sitting on his face. 2b, eyes locked on Deimos’ expression, had opened his mouth to attempt prying an answer out of the younger. Before a single word could leave his lips, however, his world was flipped on its head.

Literally.

For a brief second everything stopped. The warmth and pressure from the hand holding him to the table disappeared, cold washing over him and sending a shiver down his spine. That’s when a new type of pressure appeared. It was still rough and warm, the grip of a calloused hand for sure, but it was much more concentrated than just smashing him to the table. Specifically around his right ankle. His eyes couldn’t go ‘dinner plate wide’ any faster than they did the moment he felt said pressure appear. The less-than-manly scream he had heard beside him roughly half a second earlier started to make a lot more sense by the millisecond. Especially once he was dragged backwards and up, a very similar noise escaping himself. For a brief moment everything spun before his sight leveled out. What he didn’t want to see was Deimos grinning at him. Upside down.

“Annnd there we go. Sanford, Hank, I hope you guys still have a good grip at this size~.” The hacker jabbed, grinning at the little chain his friends had formed once he started picking them up. Pinched between his thumb, pointer, and middle finger was Hank’s torso. They were currently holding onto Sanford’s ankle, looking less than pleased with the situation they were in. Sanford was gripping onto the ankle of 2BDamned as he dangled, worry painting over his features. Then there was 2b, dangling at the end of the chain upside down with a look quite similar to Hank’s plastered on his face. All in all, quite the interesting little chain they made up as he leaned back in the chair.

“Damn straight. You two drop me and you’re dead.” The ‘medic’ grumbled, all too willing to make his displeasure known.

“Aw, don’t you worry, Doc. If they drop you I’ll make sure you have a nice, soft, warm landing~”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want to be dropped on my hea- Deimos, what the genuine fuck does that mean?” He shouldn’t have asked. The moment after the words left his mouth 2b knew he never should have asked what the younger hacker had meant with his words. Dangling over the man’s lap having to stare him in the face while upside down wasn’t ideal. Absolutely not. However, he found much preferred it to dangling inches above Deimos’ open jaws, the smell of cigarette smoke laced breath hitting him almost as hard as the realization of just how sharp the man’s teeth were. He supposed he never noticed with Dei a. rarely ever purposely showing them off, and b. him being smaller than the older hacker. That didn’t stop him from mentally smacking himself upside the head for not taking more notes of it sooner though. Especially when he was getting so…up close and personal with them now. Fuck he was close to those daggers.

“Dei- Dei, think about this!” Sanford shouted as he stared down at the sight of the man’s open mouth, praying that his friend would listen to at least some reason. Sure, they gave him shit for being the smallest of the group often. He especially did. Not once though had he, or the other two as far as he knew, expected that said teasing would lead to them possibly having to spend the day trapped in said hacker’s gut though. If they had, they would have backed off a little. But now the threat was more present than ever. And knowing Deimos? It might be longer than a day too. He wouldn’t put it past the man at all. Jebus Christ….

“Oh I have San. We’re past that point now.” Deimos hummed, his tongue lazily snaking itself over his lips as he glanced over the string of teammates that dangled from his hand. Slowly his stare became distant, his mind beginning to wander. Just how would each of them taste exactly? Would they all taste the same? But what if they each tasted different? Now wouldn’t that be something. Perhaps he wasn’t too far off picturing Sanford as a juicy sausage in his little moments to himself. Oh that would be perfect. The warm feeling of drool trailed itself lazily down his chin, each thought regarding the possible tastes of his friends encouraging an empty rumble from his midsection. He just had to find out now.

“Deimos, lower me any further and I’ll make sure you choke to death.” The man only laughed, eyes fluttering shut as he opened his mouth once more.

“Sorry Doc. ‘S too late to stop now.” Any screams of protest from his teammates fell on deaf ears as Deimos lowered the end of the little chain into his mouth. Immediately he was hit with the taste of black coffee, hints of iron, and oddly enough what tasted like whisky poking through and tickling his tongue. The soft, pleased hum escaped him long before he could even think to stop it, his mind far more focused on getting that flavor to coat his tastebuds than his actions or the saliva steadily dripping down his chin.

2BDamned had a different opinion on the matter. Specifically about the claim that it was ‘too late.’ It was not too fucking late. In fact, it was anything but. Deimos’s mouth, which absolutely reeked of cigarettes might he add, was still wide open. He wasn’t slipping down the tight tube he could see in front of him yet. He was being rolled around and licked over like some sort of candy, something which he apparently had to remind Deimos he wasn’t with a smack to the tongue. Sharp teeth surrounded the unofficial doctor on both sides, Sanford’s grip on his ankle still like iron despite the saliva now thoroughly coating his body. Try as he might to push himself out with his hands they only slipped and slid across the wet surface of Deimos’s tongue. Far too similar to how he was steadily slipping backwards.

“Dei…Dei, you can pull us out now…” Sanford yelled up to the man, ducking his head between his arms to avoid the feeling of daggers dragging down his head and neck. Jebus, his teeth really were sharper up close. The white knuckled grip he held on 2b’s ankle refused to budge as he slipped further in, eyes locked into the sight before him. Not once did he ever expect to watch the older hacker slowly disappear down his best friend’s throat with nothing he could do but hold on and pray. Yet here he was. Fuck. “Dei-!!”

“Sanford, don’t even bother at this point.” 2b groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask. Deimos wasn’t going to listen to shit. That much was clear now if it wasn’t an hour and a half ago when they’d woken up in his hands. He didn’t want to admit it, not by a long shot, however as he slid further back there wasn’t any way the dissenter could convince himself otherwise. He, and the other two, were doomed. “He’s not going to-“

Ulp~

“…..listen. God damnit.” What else was he to even expect at this point?

Try as hard as he might, Sanford found he couldn’t grip the unofficial doctor’s ankle any tighter. Not without the possibility of breaking something, considering that he most likely had already passed the ‘try not to bruise the man’ stage. No doubt the clearly handprint shaped black and blue bruise would be there in a day tops. A scolding was nearly cemented in his future now, however Sanford couldn’t find it in himself to complain about it. Compared to the hole Deimos was digging himself, with a smile on his face no less, he’d gladly take the talking to. Speaking of the hacker, either he was genuinely out of it for some reason or he was just trying to be a grade A dick.

“Deimos!! Cut it out, man!” He yelled, trying his hardest to squirm away from the licks and shifting of the man’s tongue. Unfortunately for him, nothing seemed to work. It started at his hands but all too quickly the sensation of a wet tongue dragging itself up, over, and around the pyromaniac’s arms and to his torso. The dark lenses of his signature glasses fogged over with each warm breath that washed over his body. Goosebumps dotted all exposed skin, any fabric quickly becoming drenched with saliva. The sensations slowly crawled their way down Sanford’s body, more of him no longer dangling and instead slipping across the hacker’s tongue by the moment. He watched his hands, and by extension Doc’s feet, slowly slip beyond his vision into the void-like entrance of Deimos’ throat. His arms followed not long after, the darkness enveloping more of his vision by the second. Talk about a way to spend your day.

Glk~

A soft groan rumbled around the shrunken men, the sound’s maker all too lost in his thoughts. Tastes of warm sausage, coffee, and the lingering hints of whisky and iron danced across his tongue. Each lick up the parts of Sanford’s body which remained momentarily in his mouth brought a shiver up through his spine. With each second the small body inched further back, pulling his hand toward his mouth. His fingers and the body pinned between them slipped past the hacker’s lips with ease. Layers of cloth, along with the occasional sensation of scarred skin, pressed against his tongue. The taste of a rare steak and a much stronger metallic hint, again not unlike that of blood but somehow much more pleasant, seemed all too eager to attack his taste buds. His spine seemed to reduce itself to jello in a matter of seconds, relying on the backrest of his chair for support. The smoker pulled his fingers from his mouth with a small pop, jaws shutting around his final shrunken teammate and leaving his mind to ponder over the tastes and sensation attacking his mouth and mind alike.

The word ‘still’ had been completely wiped from Deimos’s dictionary, if it had even been there to begin with. At least that’s what Hank would have told anyone who asked. His eyes had narrowed behind his red tinted goggles and now they seemed to grow thinner with each movement from the muscle beneath him. As if the heat and lingering cigarette smell from the hacker’s breath weren’t enough, the wet feeling of saliva continued to sneak itself into every fiber of his being. First his skin, then lighter clothing items like his bandana and mask, and finally seeping through his coat and multiple other layers of clothing. And just what was a better cherry on top then being rolled around near constantly. Every moment they seemed to find themself in a new position within the confines of the young hacker’s mouth. While their grip remained on Sanford’s ankles, the same could in no way be said for his patience with the man who had caused this hell by shrinking them. He swore, Deimos better enjoy his time being able to hold them like dolls because the moment they were back to normal the man would be getting a firm taste of his own medicine. Whether it be by him serving as lunch or by another form of revenge was yet to be decided. Hank could only plot so much, though. Despite how much more bearable he found thinking about a way to ‘return the favor’ to Deimos to be, he needed to at least show a little of his own irritation to the man. After all, he wasn’t just some snack. They were still Hank J. Wimbledon god damn it, and they’d prove it if they had to. How he would do that remained a mystery for what felt like hours of constant licking and flipping…until said proof came. It came in the form of a kick to the inside of Deimos’ teeth. A kick which sent him sliding backwards-

Ulk-

Glp~

And the oddly shaped lump in Deimos’ throat disappearing behind his collarbone.

Deimos’ eyes had widened in shock, a hand quickly pressing itself to his throat as it happened. In his opinion, it happened too quickly. All too fast the warm weight disappeared from his mouth, pushing itself backwards with force into his throat. Far too soon did he lose the previously vivid taste of barely cooked meat and metal, leaving him with only the memory and lingering fragments of it like the other two tastes. Too quickly had the lump in his throat been pushed down by two final swallows, disappearing down behind his collarbone. For a moment he sat there in silence, the room lacking sound except for his heavy breathing. With each rise and fall of his chest he waited. Waited for the one thing that couldn’t seem to come fast enough. Moments passed with nothing before the feeling he’d been waiting for rushed his senses. A filling warmth pooled itself in his stomach, moving around against the walls of the organ and pulling a warm chuckle from the man. His hand trailed to rest over his stomach, feeling the small bodies shift and fight beneath layers of clothing, muscle, and skin. Fangs glimmering in a grin once again as he poked at the squirming fullness in his gut.

“Well look at that.” He laughed to himself, relaxing back into his chair. His stomach gurgled under his hand, what he guessed to be a thank you of sorts now that he had what he wanted within it. Though something told him the others wouldn’t be thanking him all that much. “How are you three holding up in there?”

“Deimos, do not laugh at us or so help me Jebus- Hank, get your arm out of my face!” The words were quickly followed by what Deimos could assume was 2b pushing Hank off him and into his stomach wall from what he could feel. Those three couldn’t seem to stay still. Well, he couldn’t truly blame them if he wanted to. It had to be slippery, trapped in a wet, moving organ like his stomach and all. The mental image of his three teammates slipping around in his stomach, trying their hardest to gain footing or at least a comfortable position, drew another laugh from him. This was great.

“Dei, c’mon.” Sanford added, giving his own kick to the wall in case he had failed to grab the hacker’s attention before. Try as he might to stay out of 2BDamned and Hank’s little squabble fate seemed to have other plans as he was shoved back into them every time he got away. Or maybe that was just Deimos being Deimos. “You’ve had your fun, now spit us out you chucklehead.”

“Mmm yeah no.” Deimos hummed, drumming his fingers mindlessly on his belly as he took in the little shocks that each harsh kick or punch sent through his body to his brain. Each movement registered in his brain as a pleasurable little shock, but the harsher they were the more enjoyment they seemed to cause him. Not that he was complaining. Last he checked his teammates could tire themselves out with squirming all they wanted to if it felt this nice. “See, that’s not really the plan here. Not for a few hours at least.”

“What now?” Sanford’s voice had dropped its hopeful tone, now more monotonous and serious. Beside him he heard a growl, one he assumed to be from Hank. Was the smoker trying to get them killed? Again he punched the wall. “Dei, quit joking.”

“I ain’t joking, ‘Ford.” The young hacker replied bluntly, his shit eating grin more than audible in his words. A long, over dramatic sigh made its way from his mouth with ease as he adjusted his position to one more comfortable. Or at least as comfortable as one could get in an old chair. Smiling to himself he gave his stomach a little shove, feeling the three bodies inside shift and move under the pressure. “I just wanna sit and enjoy this for a while. It feels too nice to just give up.”

Silence fell upon the three currently held within the confines of the man’s stomach, each sitting there taking in Deimos’ words until the pressure from outside had lifted. Once it did, they all reacted their own way. Hank, for example, sat still for about ten seconds tops before a punch was thrown at the wall. Sanford, on the other hand, debated whether Hank’s approach or his attempts at reasoning with their ‘captor’ would be more effective at getting Deimos to spit them up. Then there was 2BDamned, who sat in what would’ve been an unnerving silence had they not known him. Knowing him, though, changed the meaning of the silence from ‘is this man insane to be so calm?’ to ‘Deimos just dug himself a grave’ in a split second.

“Deimos,” The unofficial medic started, “you have ten seconds to at least start spitting us up or I will force myself back up your throat simply to beat your ass.” Despite the warmth of their current confines, a chill shot up Sanford’s back. As far as he knew, the last thing you wanted to be was at the end of Doc’s threats. The man often had little to no issue going through with them, and Deimos wasn’t some special case. The laughter they heard (and felt shaking their ‘cell’ for that matter) was all it took to solidify that Deimos didn’t take them seriously at this size. Guess said threats don’t work when you’re four inches tall at best and your ‘captor’ is a smug ass bastard.

“Ha! I’d like to see you try, Doc.” Deimos chuckled, giving his stomach a firm pat which only seemed to serve to jostle around its captives more. “I might not be able to handle spice like San’ but I do know my way around feisty snacks~.”

“We aren’t food, Deimos.” Hank growled, kicking the floor beneath him. The flesh sunk under his boot, a sickening squishing sound heard as a result. A small shiver trembled up the walls, one which failed to register with the black-clad mercenary as in pain. Oh just wonderful. The sharp toothed asshole was enjoying this.

“Mmm you sure, big guy? Cause you seem like food to me right now.” Within only a few seconds of the words leaving his lips the hacker found himself met with a pleasant shockwave up the spine. Clearly a certain black-clad mercenary didn't like being called food, if the fighting he felt wash over him like a tsunami of warm, fuzzy electricity meant anything. A soft groan crawled out of his lips, his hand lazily tracing circles over his stomach. ”mm oh c-calm down in there. I didn’t mean it. I will let you out, Jeez.”

“Deimos, this isn’t funny. Spit us out.” 2b snapped, kicking the floor.

“Mmm sorry, Doc. Can't hear you heheh…” the hacker spoke, words blurring softly as he melted back into the chair.

“I’m serious!” The words fell on deaf ears.

“Dei, c’mon…” Sanford this time. His eyes drifted softly shut.

“Dei…” His grin turned into a simple smirk.

“Dei…” Didn't he get he wasn’t spitting them out yet?

“Deimos…” Oh full names now. How fancy.

“Deimos..?” Wait…that didn’t sound right.

“Deimos.” Was he losing it?

…

“DEIMOS!”

The hacker jumped, blinking rapidly as his eyes darted around. What was going on? Where were they? Who did he need to kill? Where were the others? Thoughts rushed through his head as wide eyes darted around everything in sight, looking for something they recognized. Anything to show him where he was or what was going on. Relief came to him in the form of Sanford standing in front of him, a hand on his shoulder as if he was trying to get his attention. Most importantly though they were in their base. Safe. No one was here. They weren’t under attack. He was just daydreaming. Sanford and the others were here and he was just…daydreaming- oh damn it. Go figure it was too good to be true. A groan, this time annoyed, rang from Deimos’ throat.

“Jebus- Dude, are you alright?” Sanford asked, eyebrows knit with worry and…an emotion Deimos found himself unable to name. Like he’d seen something. Something…weird. Almost like concern but not at the same time. For a brief moment an idea reared its head, only to be smashed down like a weird game of whack-a-mole within the hacker’s mind. There wasn’t any need for such an absurd idea. It’s not like Sanford could have seen his little daydream. Nope, that was safe in his head. The smoker shook his head to clear it, quickly flashing Sanford a sharp toothed grin.

“Yeah man. Just zonin’ out and daydreaming a little ‘s all. Nothing to worry about here heheh,” he laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder playfully. His eyes scanned the man’s face again, trying to see if his statement had done its job. Although the worry had dropped from Sanford’s face, the other emotion remained. Now what on earth was that for?

“Daydreamin’ huh? ‘Bout what?” The pyromaniac asked, raising an eyebrow. His eyes flicked from Deimos’ eyes to his mouth, then back again as he spoke. He didn’t seem to not believe Deimos when he said he was daydreaming, so what on earth was that look for? And why was he looking at his mouth so much? Giving into the call of curiosity the sharp-toothed hacker brought a hand up to his mouth, eyes widening mouth momentarily when his fingers found a trail of saliva dripping from his lips to his chin. He’d been drooling. Whoops.

“Eh. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Deimos lied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand which he then wiped on his pant leg. So that’s what Sanford had been looking at. Oh he must’ve looked downright stupid too. Well now wasn’t that just great? He just had to hope the Chad hadn’t decided to take a photo.

“Honestly I don’t even remember what it was about.” Liar, he remembered all of it. The vivid tastes, the squirmy fullness, the thrill-

Grrrnnnggg…

Ah shit. Busted by his own stomach. For a second the hacker sat there stunned, blinking dumbly as his cheeks heated up with a pink tint. Ok just play it cool Deimos. “….though if I had to make a guess? Food heh.”

“Yeah, that would make sense heh.” Sanford laughed softly, playfully jabbing the smaller man in the stomach. He seemed to buy Deimos’s story, bringing a sense of relief to the hacker. At least he wasn’t going to press on it. “Your stomach was anything but quiet, you know.”

“Go figure. And when I can’t say anything about it too.” Quickly laughter had found itself spilling from Deimos’ mouth, his mind having calmed down when he had heard the sound from the other man. He seemed less concerned, or whatever that emotion he couldn’t name right now was. As another grumble shook through his middle the hacker lowered a hand to rest over his stomach. He got it already. He was upset the daydream of his wasn’t real after all too. Not much more he could do besides try and find something to eat now though. “Say, I’m gonna go try and snag something to shut my gut up. Wanna come?”

“Nah, I’ll pass this time.” Sanford spoke with a small shake of the head and a smile. Try as he might to play it off as friendly, it seemed that odd emotion that Deimos couldn’t name was just bound to show itself in his words. “You just go shut that thing up before the Agency uses it to track us.”

“Oh ha ha. I’m going.” Deimos laughed, giving Sanford one last playful punch to the shoulder before running off. He had food to track down somewhere in this hellscape of Nevada, unless he wanted a beating from Doc that was. He just needed something small or, hell, even temporary if he happened to come across a shrunken grunt or agent. They would work out just fine so long as he didn’t let the others find out what he’d used to shut his stomach up. Couldn’t give away anything that could relate to his little hidden desires. The emptiness in his gut wasn’t something he’d wanted back, but alas, a daydream is only a daydream and he wasn’t getting any fuller just walking around. Now where would his best chance to snag someon- something be…

…

Sanford watched as his friend ran off, smile slowly fading as Dei disappeared from his line of sight. That look of caution slipped back onto his face as he slowly turned his back to head to his room. He needed a moment to think about what he’d just seen. Try as he might, he couldn’t just forget what was now burned into his mind. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the younger hacker had been daydreaming about if you had seen him while he was in the zoned out trance of his. Mouth wide open and drooling with a hand pretending to dangle something above it, an active stomach topping it all off like some sorta weird cherry on the sundae of his best friend’s little fantasy. Oh no, he knew what that meant. And hearing him mumble the names of their other teammates, along with his own, at least once through it all? It spelled out the man’s daydream in big neon lights. The very thought sent a shiver down his spine, despite how he tried his best to shake it off.

He wanted to believe it when he tried to tell himself that Deimos wouldn’t ever shrink them, much less try to eat them. He really did. All that he’d seen along with logic itself, however, pointed him at it with the firm proof that his words were lies. The man would no doubt take advantage of it, if he ever found a way to shrink them, even if he were to keep them as safe as possible. Just as he had with any unfortunate shrunken agents or grunts he happened upon when he was alone (or at least when he thought he was) Safe or not safe, the fact of the matter still stood. Sanford did not want to spend however long within the confines of his friend’s gut, especially if he wasn’t alone. Being in there had to be bad enough. Him not being able to do anything about it either only made the situation worse. Reasoning with the hacker was most likely hopeless and he wasn’t about to beg. What was left? Pray? God, if Deimos ever managed to get his hands on the Agency’s shrinking technology then one thing was downright certain. Boy were he, Hank, and 2b doomed…

#soft vore #mawedness combat #it took me long enough #but it’s finally done #i have so many ideas for fics based on drawings by a handful of artists #this one though…this one made me go for it and write it #congrats doodle #you and your art shot me with my own inspiration Gun #and I’ve just gotta say amazing work again #you were one of the main three/four who inspired me to write M4dc0m #anyway #I hope you enjoy the fic you caused :)

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chxrrysangel · 3 years

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Stark Tea Time

Summary || Morgan Stark drags Bucky to one of her legendary tea parties, Sam leaving him to drown in pink fluff and glitter.

Warnings || Bucky actually smiles

You do not have permission to post my work anywhere else

“Lay up Cyborg, live a little. It’s not like I’m gonna di—”

“Look! Sam, I drew something for you!”

The two men’s attention is diverted from their conversation as little Morgan Stark comes barreling down the hallway, paper flapping in one hand and an assortment of crayons in the other. Her hair is covered in little butterfly clips, strands adorned with a wide array of colors from the chalk dye strewn across her cherry wood floors. She’s wearing a massive tutu, dressing to the 9s in a blue ballerina costume.

Sam smiles at the little girl, always excited to see what she has to offer. Ever since Tony passed, all of the Avengers men have taken on a father-like role towards the child, always making sure she feels loved and cared for. It’s the least they can do.

He bends down to her eye level, giving her his full attention. The smile on Sam’s face is in complete contrast to the grimace adorning Bucky’s features.

“What’s up sweetheart? Whatcha got?”

The little Stark giggles in excitement, overjoyed to see her two favorite Avengers come to see her again. They’re always quite busy, saving the world and everything. So each visit is quite meaningful to her. They’ll never replace Tony, but they ensure that his memory and love for Morgan is something she’ll never lack. They’d all die before that happens, and she knows that.

She takes the drawing from behind her back and lays it out for both of them to see. It resembles some sort of bird-like figure, Sam thinks to himself. Next to it is a robot-type figure, not failing to notice the frown etched into his features with a Crayola marker. Shaking with excitement, the little Stark looks at the two men expectantly.

“What is it?”

Morgan sighs loudly, annoyed by their stupidity and lack of “artistic vision”. The two men have yet to figure out where she learned such a concept.

“It’s you guys! Duh!” Their mouthes form into an ‘o’ shape in understanding.

“Well it’s stunning. It’s absolutely beautiful Morg. You know, I might have frame this one actually. When you become a famous painter, this is gonna be worth so much money!” Morgan squeals, jumping around excitedly as Sam praises her.

“I think it’s kind of ugl—” Sam cuts him off by sending a small electrical current to Bucky’s arm, causing him to hunch over in pain as he’s being electrocuted.

“What he was trying to say is that it’s very avant-garde, meaning unique in the art world. Don’t worry little Stark, it’s a good thing.” Sam smiles at her encouragingly, hoping Terminator’s harsh words back there wash over her. She nods in understanding, James’s words already long forgotten.

The two men attempt to continue their conversation from before, discussing details about their next mission. There’s a hostage situation in the Palace of Westminster, the perpetrators threatening to blow the whole thing up with everyone in it. But before they can really strategize how to scope out the place, Sam feels a tap on his leg.

“Yes princess?”

“Can you guys come to my tea party?”

“Actually Morgan, we have to go so—” Bucky starts to say before being rudely cut off my bird-man to his left. Sam shoot daggers in his partner’s direction and the words die in his throat.

“Actually, I have to go take care of something really quickly. But Bucky can join you.” At those words, Bucky’s head jolts in his direction, giving Sam one of the meanest looks he’s probably ever seen. But the big man is all bark and no bite, so Sam just laughs in his face. Bucky’s fists tighten at his sides, thinking of all the ways he plans to torture and murder Sam when they leave the Stark house.

Morgan, on the other hand, is practically bursting at the seams. Bucky doesn’t know this, but he’s her favorite of all the Avengers, especially because his titanium arm reminds her of her dad’s suit. She feels closer to him when she’s with Bucky. Plus, they’re both kinda stoic, but it’s only an act in her eyes. She knows that deep down, he has a heart of gold.

Morgan takes Bucky by the hand, dragging him down the hallway back to her room. Meanwhile, Bucky looks back at Sam, pleading for some kind of mercy or aid. Sam, of course, provides no such thing and only cackles at his best friend’s misfortune. He says goodbye to Pepper, promising to be back once he finishes talking to Torres.

Meanwhile in a certain Stark’s bedroom…

Morgan bounced from corner to corner of her large bedroom, capturing all of the items she needs for this special occasion. It’s not often she has a guest for her weekly tea parties, let along James Buchanan Barnes of all people. She has to make a good impression if he’s ever going to come back.

Standing like a dark looming giant,surrounded by tiny chairs and more pink and purple than he’s ever seen, Bucky is clearly out of his element. At 6’0 tall, he stands taller than anything in this room, standing neck and neck with the canopy bed in the middle. Morgan doesn’t take notice of his discomfort however, she’s just happy to have him. She whips around him, gathering her stuffed animals at the table and setting up the placemats for each guest.

Almost as if having an epiphany, the mini Stark girl gasps and runs out the bedroom, yelling that she’ll be right back. Bucky wanders around the room, taking notice of all the little trinkets and toys that he, along with the rest of the team, gifted to her over time. His lips contort into a ghost of a smile, reminiscing all the times Morgan screamed for joy every time they came bearing gifts. The gifts didn’t really matter to her, though. It was just their presence that set her heart into cardiac arrest and her cheeks aflame. They were her family.

Not soon after, Morgan returns dragging a more normal sized chair into her room. Bucky is surprised at this action, as the small girl is barely breaking a sweat. That is, until he noticed the two small gadgets attached the back of the chair, marked with Tony’s insignia. So little Stark is smart, just like her dad.

Morgan sets the chair down next to her own pink, fluffy and bedazzled throne at the head of the table. She sits down, motioning Bucky to take a seat and calls the tea party into session. Bucky’s eyes wander over the pristinely white tabletop, taking in the wide assortment of snacks. From shortbread, frosted oatmeal cookies, to cheeseburgers and mini sandwiches, you name it and she’s got it. The baked goods are Pepper’s doing of course, courtesy of her daily afternoon attempts to become the next Martha Stewart. Morgan doesn’t mind at all, eager to indulge in a daily sugar high as the designated guinea pig.

“Tea?,” the child offers, “it’s raspberry, your favorite.” James can’t help but blush as her consideration of his tastes. For a kid, she’s a pretty decent host. He quickly covers up his blush by coughing and nods firmly.

After filling up the China tea cups lined up around the table, Morgan moves towards introductions. “Bucky, these are my friends. There’s Mr.Whiskers, Genevieve, Fae, Natasha, Tony, and James. They’re very happy to have you here with us. They think you look quite nice today.”

James? As in… Bucky can’t help but blush again, honored that Morgan named one of her beloved stuffed animals after him. He smiles shyly, staring at the lavender Elephant across the table. The girl doesn’t fail to notice his smile, happy that he’s happy.

“So James, how do you feel about glitter?”

~~~

The doorbell rings sometime around 7:00, just after sunset. Pepper opens the door to a smiling Sam, carrying a mysterious box by his side. He just left Torres house, the two men agreeing to scope out the place just before dawn when everyone is still sleeping. That way, they can get a good picture of what it looks like on the inside without having to use night vision technology.

“What’s in the box?”

“Lemon Merengue. For Morgan.” Lemon Merengue is Morgan’s favorite dessert. So by bringing her some, Sam hopes that she’ll forgive him for taking a rain check on one of her illustrious tea parties.

“They’re still down the hall.” Pepper points in the direction of mini Stark’s room, before returning to her baking. Tonight, she’s trying devil’s food cake.

Even from down the hall, Sam can hear the chatting of two distinct voices, a deep scratchy one and a much higher, daintier tone. He shakes his head at Morgan’s complete lack of an inside voice when she’s excited. They must be having a blast in there.

To Sam’s surprise, Bucky actually seems to be enjoying himself. He stands in the doorframe, watching the two chat back and forth while a Disney movie soundtrack plays in the background. From the distinct piano, Sam recognizes Beauty & the Beast (also one of Morgan’s favorites).

Sitting down obediently, Bucky gives Morgan his full attention as she places puffy stickers on his titanium arm and adds little doodles to his real one. He smiles as he watches her drawing a picture of the two of them with princess tiaras and feather boas, just like they are now. She babbles away, telling him the details of the movie she wants them to watch together. It’s called Tangled, he learns.

Sam decides to leave the two alone, going back to help Pepper bake in the kitchen. Although, not before snapping a picture of the two together, reminding himself to print it and put it on the fridge. He knows that Pepper isn’t exactly the kindest person to be in the kitchen with, as she is very bossy and demanding. But he’d take that over ruining this special moment in the princess-themed room down the hall.

He can still hear the faint giggles and screams of Morgan, this time begging Bucky to stop tickling her. She pleads for mercy but he refuses to budge, only making her laugh harder and her giggles to bounce off the walls like they’re in an echo chamber. And to think, he was gonna say no earlier.

#sambucky #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #morgan stark #marvel #the avengers #winter solider fanfiction #tony stark #bucky fluff #pepper potts

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

Text

Unprofessional [pt. 1] /// Yandere Tendou x f!Reader

Summary: The new hire you’re supposed to be training at your office job is a little too attached for his own good…or yours. [Part 2]

A/N: Someone requested yandere Tendou and I was like !!! However when I wrote it, it turned out kinda long so I split it into 2 parts; I’ll answer the req when I post part 2. Anyway I’m obsessed with the concept of salaryman Tendou, please enjoy!

Tags/warnings: yandere, timeskip (Tendou is 22-23 in this), workplace/office setting, liberal use of “senpai”, alcohol, Tendou’s crackhead energy is toned down a little bit because of the setting [In part 2: smut, 18+]

You don’t really like Tendou when you first meet him.

Your first impression when your boss introduces the new employee is that he’s all talk and no substance. He’s been hired fresh out of university, and he’s got the stink of a former frat boy all over him—that baseless enthusiasm, chaotic goodwill and arrogance mixed together. That might have been your type when you were still sucking down cheap keg beer from red solo cups, but you’re two years into your career as a real grown-up adult now, and the cockiness that radiates off Tendou in waves is just…annoying.

Unfortunately, when your boss tells you to take the newbie under your wing, train him, and be his mentor, it’s not a request. It’s a demand. So you decide to suck it up. If you’re going to have to spend every second at the office with Tendou trailing after you like a baby duck, you may as well get used to him.

After a few weeks, you have to admit he’s not that bad. Sure, he’s not the best at respecting personal space, but how can you blame him? When he looms over you to reach for a file above your head for the nth time and traps you between his body and the cabinet, you finally lose your patience and snap at him to give you some space, but he looks so surprised and apologizes so sincerely that you can’t help forgiving him. You feel a little bad, even, when he explains that he’s never worked in an office before so he’s not used to all the rules that he’s expected to follow in a professional environment.

You can’t really fault him for that, especially when you’re the one who’s supposed to be teaching him these things. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean anything,” you tell him, and he perks up so quickly that you feel even worse for chewing him out in the first place.

The thing is, Tendou doesn’t really stop getting close to you once you chastise him. It just bothers you less. The dozenth time his hand lingers over yours while you’re passing him a document or he picks an invisible thread off your blouse or sits a little too close when you’re riding in the back of a taxi to a client meeting, you start convincing yourself that you’re overreacting. He’s probably not being that much more pushy than your other coworkers—you’re just more aware of him because you don’t know him as well.

And it doesn’t help that he’s tall, towering over you and pretty much everyone else in the office. The cheap suits he cycles through can’t quite conceal the hard lines of muscle underneath—oh, whoops. Now you’re the one crossing boundaries. Tendou is so big that you’re just…more conscious of his presence, right?

This is drilled into you one night after a marathon overtime session when you’re carrying a tall stack of boxes back to the archives. Maybe it’s because you’ve been at work for 11 hours, but the files feel like they’re filled with rocks, not paper. Your muscles are this close to giving out when Tendou appears out of nowhere to pluck the files out of your arms. “Here. Gimme, gimme, I’ll take ‘em.”

The way he carries the heavy boxes so effortlessly makes you kind of embarrassed at how much you’d struggled with them. “You’re pretty strong, hm,” you say absently. Oops, was that inappropriate? You don’t want him thinking you’re hitting on him or something.

“Oh—yeah I guess?” Tendou’s laugh (the one that used to grate on your nerves) sounds like he’s pleased with himself. “I go to the gym a lot.”

“Wish I could find the time. Or the discipline,” you reply as he replaces the file box in the archive room.

“Wow, senpai is calling me disciplined. My heart is pounding.”

His tone is sarcastic enough that you don’t think twice about the second part of his statement. “Don’t get too full of yourself. If you have the energy to go to the gym, you should spend that time double checking your expense reports before you submit them.”

“Ouch.” Tendou holds his hand over his heart in mock betrayal. “Targeting my weak points, how ruthless. But seriously, working out is second nature to me. Been doin it since I was a kid so it doesn’t take any kinda discipline.”

“Oh? Did you play sports or something?”

“Yeah…” Tendou’s voice trails off and when you pause from your task of organizing the files to look up at him, he’s staring directly at you. “…Used to play volleyball. Grade school through college.”

The way he’s looking at you, searching your face for something you can’t identify, makes you think this is more important than it seems. You tip your head to the side, waiting for him to continue.

“Our team in high school was pretty good,” he says slowly.

“That’s cool,” you say, turning back to the paperwork. “Did you ever play Shiratorizawa? They’re my old high school—I think their volleyball team went to nationals back in the day. I was never into sports though.”

A moment passes, and you frown. Did you say something wrong? But just before you’re about to change the subject, Tendou starts laughing. “Shiratorizawa? No, I don’t think I ever played them.”

Your laugh joins his a second late, although you don’t know why he thinks it’s funny in the first place. In the echo of your voices, you can hear how quiet it is in the archives. There’s something here you’re missing, but you’re not sure what.

Luckily enough, the somewhat awkward atmosphere doesn’t carry over to the next day. When you get into the office, Tendou is his usual clingy self, distracting you from your own work to ask you to teach him something and pulling you away when you’re talking to your coworkers so you can double check his emails before he sends them. If anything, he’s more attached than usual—when you go to a contract renewal negotiation with a client he insists on tagging along, so you let him after making him promise not to get in the way.

Of course he doesn’t keep his promise, but you end up appreciating his intrusion more than you could have predicted. The client is stubborn and rude until Tendou chimes in (much to your dismay, at first) with an offer to add on some oddly specific perks to the contract. You’re already practicing your apology speech to the boss in anticipation of losing the client, but to your amazement he agrees to Tendou’s terms and the deal is sealed, along with a healthy bonus for you.

You’re on cloud nine, practically skipping out of the building with Tendou at your side as you fantasize about what you’re going to do with the bonus after you split it with him. A weekend vacation out of the city? An online shopping spree? Some fancy dinners at five-star restaurants? Knowing you, the money will end up going straight to your savings, but you still can’t contain your giddiness. “How did you know he wanted that add-on? Seriously, I had no idea!”

“A guess! I’m good at reading people.” Tendou’s just as elated as you, pumping his fist and whooping like a kid as soon as you’re away from the client’s earshot. “Woohoo! Yay! Our first sale together!”

“A guess? You risked that huge contract on a guess?” You roll your eyes but you’re too excited to be mad at him. “Anyway, you don’t have to say ‘our’ first sale, I know it was all you. I’ll tell the boss you’re doing a good job.”

“No way, it’s ours! Both of us. Me and senpai.” Tendou’s hand reaches down and his fingers lace with yours, squeezing so tight his knuckles go pale.

The thrill of your success flickers as nervousness sets in. Is he holding your hand? “Tendou—“

“Senpaiiiii~” he says in sing-song, swinging your hand as you walk to meet the taxi and ignoring your meek attempts to pull away. “Didn’t I do a good job?”

“Y-Yeah. Good job, Tendou.”

Work friends. The two of you are work friends. Your boss passes all comments to Tendou through you (mostly things about how he’s good with clients and charismatic but needs to stop making minor errors on paperwork). When one of you is sick, your coworkers ask the other to pass on their good wishes. Tendou fits into his role at the office seamlessly, and you can’t say you don’t appreciate the fact that all of his good work is reflecting well on you.

So when his birthday rolls around two months after he’s hired, it’s up to you to plan the office drinking party (only after he complains to you about how he doesn’t have any friends since moving to Tokyo). You have the date you got from Facebook—May 20th—circled in red pen on your private calendar along with a little doodle of a birthday cake.

“What’s that?” asks one of your coworkers, pointing to the circle, as you flip through your agenda a week before the event.

“Tendou’s turning 23,” you tell him. “It’s a Friday, so some of us are going to go to a restaurant and drink a little. You’re coming, right?”

“Oh…yeah.” Your coworker scratches his head and clears his throat. “You guys are pretty close, huh. Um, I actually wanted to ask—you’re not together, are you?”

A chill runs up your spine. “Together? Who said that?” If this rumor gets around to your boss it’ll kill your career. These things always look worse for the woman than for the man. God, it was probably something Tendou said without thinking, he’s always talking about you and someone could easily misinterpret all that praise…

“Well, if you’re dating—“

“We’re not dating,” you say quickly. “We do a lot of work together because I’m training him, but it’s not like that.”

“Really?” Your coworker straightens and smiles. “Cause I was actually thinking of asking if you wanted to go out this weekend—“

“Senpai? Can you help me with this draft?”

Damnit, it’s Tendou getting in the way at the absolute worst time—especially considering he just had to come up behind you and put his hand on your shoulder. Seriously, how many times do you have to tell him to stop doing that when you’re talking to someone else? You’re not sure whether to be irritated at him for cutting your coworker off, concerned that the other man won’t believe what you said about you and Tendou having a strictly professional relationship, or relieved that you don’t have to give an answer to what sounds like an offer for a date.

You cast an apologetic glance at your coworker and make your way over to Tendou’s desk, hoping against hope that the interruption doesn’t look too suspicious. You’d die if word got around to your boss that you were dating your mentee.

///

You’ve got this office drinking party thing down to an art. Step one is to load up on greasy appetizers that’ll increase your alcohol tolerance, step two is to drink plenty of water, and step three is to pour yourself a single drink early and take small sips.

There’s a step four, too: make sure no one else’s glass get’s below the 1/4 mark. Your boss and coworkers are a lot less receptive to how little you’re drinking when they’re all nice and tipsy. It’s a system you’ve perfected over the years, one that allows you to have fun with people from the office without risking making an ass out of yourself or getting a hangover (which, at 25, is a lot more unpleasant than it used to be).

You can’t count the number of times you’ve witnessed the awkward drunken escapades of your fellows, which range from the endearing (your boss crying over how much he loves his wife) to the awkward (coworker makeout sessions) to the potentially criminal (bar fights. So many bar fights). You’re happy to remain a neutral observer, and tonight is no exception.

The only problem is that Tendou hasn’t yet mastered the art of drinking lightly when you’re around people you work with, so now, at the end of his party, he’s (for lack of a better word) trashed. His cheek is mashed flat to the restaurant table like it’s glued there and his head is surrounded by progressive rings of bottles and cans. It’s some kind of miracle that he hasn’t yet gone to the bathroom to get sick.

“Sorry Tendou,” you sigh. “I should have been keeping a better eye on you.” You had no idea he’d get so drunk so quickly. Aren’t tall guys supposed to have high tolerance or something?

“Sssshenpaii,” Tendou slurs, hoisting his head off the table with that looks like Herculean effort. “I liiiike when…when ya look at me…”

“Ha, ha,” you say sarcastically.

Tendou’s head whips around. “Where’d everyone go?”

“They all left—now it’s time for us to go home too. Come on, I’ll help you get to the taxi.” You pay the bill (oof, there goes your petty cash for the week) and pull on Tendou’s shirt sleeve to get him to stand up. Luckily he’s just sober enough to realize what you want him to do and he follows you out to the street with an arm draped over your shoulders to steady his meandering footsteps.

The real trouble comes when the two of you are seated comfortably in the cab and the driver asks for Tendou’s address, which, apparently, he can’t remember. You do the sensible thing and look through his phone, but his own contact card provides no hint to where he lives in Tokyo, only a phone number, email, and address in Sendai which has to be his parents’ house—

Wait.

Tendou’s from Sendai?

You’re from Sendai. You didn’t know he was too. What a coincidence that both of you moved to Tokyo from Sendai. You’ve mentioned your hometown to him a couple times—how come he never told you he’s from the same place? You’re only two years older than him; maybe you’ve run across him in Sendai before the two of you started working together.

Now that you think about it, his face has always been kind of familiar…you thought it was just ‘one of those faces’, but…?

This isn’t the time to wonder, though. You poke Tendou gently in the side, careful not to jar him enough to risk any stomach upset. “Tendou? Do you remember what street you live on?”

After a long pause Tendou names a street, but it’s your company’s address which isn’t located anywhere near a residential district. When you tell him to think harder, he grimaces, lips pulling back to bare his teeth. “Don’ wanna go home…lemme sleep over at senpai’s house.”

“What? You can’t stay at my place.”

“Why noooot? ‘m tired,” he drawls, eyes closing as his head droops onto your shoulder in the back of the cab.

“It’s—it’s inappropriate—wait, no-no-no-no don’t fall asleep,” you tell him desperately but it’s already too late. A light snore filters out of him and you curse. “Tendou—“

“Address?” the cab driver barks insistently, giving you the stink eye in the rearview mirror.

Shit. Well, it is his birthday, you have a pull-out couch, and it’s not like anyone from the office is around to see you going home together. Tomorrow morning you’ll just have to give him a lecture about professional boundaries and make him promise not to breathe a word of this to your boss.

You give your own address to the cab driver. Tendou sleeps peacefully on your shoulder throughout the entire drive, rousing only when you whisper his name in his ear outside your building (which is a miracle, because you know without a doubt that you’re not capable of carrying him). When you get up to your apartment, you deposit him on the sofa bed and tell him not to look through your stuff while you brush your teeth.

Obviously, he doesn’t listen to you. When you emerge from the bathroom, Tendou is standing in the middle of your living room and turning the pages of an old photo album of yours.

“Hey, give me that.” You try to pull it away from him, but he doesn’t let go and his grip is stronger than yours, so the album remains firmly in his hands. “If you’re sober enough to mess with my things, you should go home.”

“This is senpai, right?” Tendou says, pointing to one of the photos.

Despite your exasperation, you lean in to take a look. It’s a picture from high school with you and some friends, all of you wearing your Shiratorizawa uniforms and grinning cheekily at whoever took the picture. Your fingers are cocked up in a peace sign. “Yeah? That’s me.”

“So cute…senpai is really cute…” Tendou’s long finger trails over the edge of your face though the filmy plastic covering the photo.

“Um…you need to get to sleep,” you say nervously, pulling a little harder on the album.

He doesn’t budge, instead just flipping back in the album to older pictures from when you were little until he stops at a photo of you and your younger brother in grade school. Against your better judgement, you frown and look closer to try and pick up whatever caught his interest in this particular image.

“How old…?” he asks.

“I don’t know, 10 or 11 maybe?”

Tendou nods. “When I met senpai…you were this old, yeah.”

“Jeez, you’re really drunk. We met two months ago, remember? I was on the interview board.”

“Yeah.” Tendou’s gaze is glued to the photo. “I was so sad, ‘cause senpai doesn’t remember me. But also really happy to see you after such a long time…I thought it was a dream…”

“Hm? I don’t get it.”

Tendou finally looks up from the picture and meets your wary gaze with those wide red eyes. God, you used to think his face was so creepy—lately you find his zealousness endearing, almost childlike, but right now? It’s making your feet itch how much you want to step away from him. “I was really hoping you would remember on your own, but I guess I’ll have to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“How me an’ senpai met…”

Are you imagining it, or does his voice sound a lot less slurred than it did just 20 minutes ago? “You’re not making any sense.”

“Shh, just listen…your little brother played volleyball when you were kids, didn’t he?”

How did he know that? You nod hesitantly.

“Yeah…he was in my grade. He was a bad kid, y’know that? Always saying mean things to me.”

It’s true. Your brother’s always had a mean streak in him.

“He used to call me a monster. ‘Cause, y’know—“ Tendou taps a finger against his face. “Guess I look weird. And my name, too. So he said he didn’t wanna play with me. Demons can’t play on human teams. Every day, saying cruel things. I really hated him.”

Monster. Volleyball. Your little brother. Tendou Satori like the mind-reading spirits from folklore. Something’s coming to mind, a memory you haven’t thought about in years—no, decades.

Your little brother making fun of another kid. A tall kid with red hair in a bowl cut.

“I-I remember,” you stammer. “I came to his practice one time and you were there, right? That bowl cut kid was you. I got mad at him for calling you names and I yelled at him. That’s when we met?”

“Correct!” Tendou’s beaming like you just told him he won the lottery instead of recalling a random fifteen-year-old memory. “You made him let me play! I got to get on the court, and block him, and see his beaten face looking up at me. All because of senpai.”

You can play this off, you think to yourself. Tell him you’re sorry for how your brother treated him. Ask him why he never told you that the two of you have met before. Say something. Anything. But your mouth is too dry to let you speak.

“And, you know…” Tendou’s voice softens and a light blush dusts his cheeks. “I thought you were so cool. I couldn’t believe you were related to that jerk. Can I…tell you a secret?”

No. Deep down you know what he’s going to say, and you don’t want to hear it.

Tendou’s hand comes up to comb through your hair, gently pulling through the delicate strands next to your face and tucking them back so he can lean in and whisper into your ear (even though there’s no one else around). “I like you, senpai.”

Stop it. Stop it. Your blood feels cold in your veins.

“I’ve liked you ever since then. I used to wish we were in the same grade so I could be your friend and talk to you every day. Whenever we were in different schools I missed seeing you in the halls and hearing your voice when you spoke to other people.”

“Stop...stop talking,” you whisper, but Tendou continues like he didn’t hear you.

“Why’d you have to go all the way to Tokyo for college? In my third year at Shiratorizawa I studied for your school’s entrance exam forever, but I didn’t get in. Was too busy with volleyball, I guess.” He pauses. “Oh, by the way, I went to Shiratorizawa. I lied about that, sorry. But—seriously, d’you have any idea how hard it was for me when you were away at university? Not seeing the person I love for six years?”

Love, he said. You feel nauseous. “Tendou, you don’t—“

“Let me finish, okay senpai? You don’t know how much I’ve been through. Always having to respect your ‘personal space’—“ he frames the phrase in mocking air quotes— “when I need to touch you so bad I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

And then he’s hugging you into his chest, crushing your torso into his. You struggle and try to get him to let you go, but Tendou is so much stronger than you.

“You’re not that different from your brother after all, are you?” he hums into your hair. “You’ve been torturing me. You know how you lean over my desk when you show me something on my computer? I can…see down your shirt when you do that. And I smell your perfume. I spent two hours at the mall trying all the different perfumes so I could find the right one…thought my nose was gonna stop working! But don’t laugh—“

You’re not laughing.

“—the salesgirl looked at me funny but I got it eventually. Chance Eau Fraiche, right? I can’t believe how expensive that stuff is, what is it made of gold? It was worth it though! I saw this news article about how smelling things in your sleep can trigger memories, so I tried spraying your perfume on my pillow before I go to bed and now I get to see you at work and when I’m dreaming—”

“STOP IT!” Your slap echoes across the room with a resounding crack. You’ve never hit anyone before in your life, but your aim is good enough to leave Tendou staring with a shocked expression off to the side and a bright red mark on his face. His arms fall down from you and you back away from him, clutching your hand to your chest. “You need to get out. You’re drunk and you’re not thinking clearly. We...we can talk about this tomorrow, but right now you have to go.”

Your heart is beating like hummingbird wings, sending a flush up to your face that you know is visible. Tendou ghosts his hand over his cheek and is quiet for a long moment. “I wanted to do this the right way,” he says finally.

“What?”

“I tried. But you’re so obsessed with professionalism. You refused to see me like that,” he sighs. “You’re too responsible. Although it’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Please listen to me...” The psychological anxiety of this revelation is stirring up a primal fight or flight instinct, and you start backing up.

“I really wanted to treat you gently. You deserve to be treated well…”

“Tendou, wait.” How far are you from your bedroom? You don’t want to resort to hiding from him, but you’d feel a lot better with a locked door between you and him.

“…but senpai, I’ve waited so long. And it’s my birthday.”

Your hands scrabble for the doorknob, only—oh. He’s not just stronger than you, he’s faster too.

➠ [Part 2]

#Tendou Satori x reader #Tendou Satori #Tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #Tendo Satori x reader #Tendo Satori #Tendo x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere Tendou Satori x reader #yandere Tendou Satori #yandere Tendo Satori x reader #yandere Tendo Satori

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mothersfrogs · 3 years

Note

You are a life saver btw, may I request the slender brothers with an artist s/o? Doing traditional and digital art?

AAAA WHY AM I SO SLOW

Slender

So pleased he has someone he can draw with

Traditional or digital, the two of you will have 2 hour long drawing sessions together

Slender has been drawing for a very, very long time, so if you need help drawing anything he’ll be right there

He has a few tricks up his sleeves

But if it’s digital art, he cannot for the life of him learn how to do it

And not because he’s incapable, he affects any kind of technology and makes stuff like phones and tablets glitch out

He’s learned how to control it over the years, but it’s still pretty bad

So try to stick to pencil and pen while he’s around

And if you want to, print out any digital art and show it to him, he’ll love it

Offender

Offender admires your artwork, he thinks it looks amazing

Though he can’t draw himself, he really likes to paint, especially with paint by numbers

They’re so captivating!! And reaaally time consuming

But it’s much more enjoyable when you’re doing it with him

And if painting isn’t your strongest suite, it will be soon!

But really, it’s great bonding time, and I cannot describe how much Offender loves spending every moment he has with you

You matter a lot to him

Your art does too, he finds it beautiful how you just draw with ease sometimes ((don’t tell him about art block))

It’s truly a talent to have

Splendor

Oh. my. God.

Another reason to love you!!

Your artistic abilities are like magic, he’s jealous

Nothing inspires Splendor more than creating art, and now he has an S/O who wields the magic graphite wand too?

yIPEE!!!

You’re truly a gift from the heavens, nothing makes this man happier than when he finds you making art that took as long as five hours, and is a highly detailed portrait, or a five minute doodle of a dog wielding a giant stick

You make Splendor so happy, he could just scream!

You’re so freaking talented at it makes him so proud

He’ll hang any art you give him on the wall in golden framing, where any and all guests can see as you hide your face in embarrassment because Splendor won’t stop rambling on about you

Trender

What a lovely couple you both are!

Trender excels in digital design, he’s been practicing since you could draw on a computer

He really enjoys it too, it’s a great outlet for stress and relaxation

Not to mention he designs a lot of clothing AND puts everything together

You will be required to draw him a little outfit he can put to together for you to model in

Honestly you’ll be helping him design a shit ton of clothing

And don’t think he won’t be paying you, he absolutely will

AND he’ll spoil you with brand new paints and fancy sketchbooks

Trender could sit and watch you draw for hours, it’s very fascinating to him how differently you sketch things out than he does

The whole process just mesmerizes him, your art style so unique, and sometimes you catch him looming over your shoulder while you create an art piece

It’s kinda funny, but there’s moments where you’re intensely focused in what you’re doing and then you turn around and jump like a rabbit

Just remember in those moments when you’re shooing your boyfriend out of the room that he loves you and your art very much

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcannons #slender brother #slender brother headcannons #slender #offender #trender #splendor #hoo boy sorry this took way too long #It didn't even take that long to write it too #stupid adhd brain #ask

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kingreywrites · 3 years

Text

Our Paint Chips Away

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2865

New Dream Appreciation Week Day Seven: Memories

Summary: In the aftermath of Pascal running away from home, Eugene can't sleep. He keeps thinking about seeing the tower again, for the first time since... since it all went down. He also keeps thinking about the way Rapunzel went inside alone, and how he hadn't been sure he could have followed her in if she asked.

Note: this story is a coda to Pascal’s story!! not sure it fits the prompt but when am i ever afgsgdh it’s very late because inspiration struck me uh... very late too, but i hope you’ll still enjoy it!! this week was amazing, thanks to @gleamful-lanterns and @autumn-ravenclaw for organising it!! <3

Read on ao3

The day Pascal ran away, Eugene saw the tower again for the first time in more than half a year. Rapunzel did, too. It was way more difficult for her than it could ever be for him, because the tower had been her home and her prison for eighteen long years, and he knew it, he knew that she needed all the support he could give. His heart broke when she stumbled back, her voice trembling, but she had always been brave, and she raised herself up again, ready to confront her worst nightmare. She needed to go up there alone, and he was worried, of course he was, but he also felt incredibly proud, because she was the most courageous person he knew, and he admired her more than anyone.

More than himself, for sure.

Because the thing was, he shouldn't be scared. Or a little maybe, but certainly not more than her. After all, he hadn't even spent the equivalent of a whole day in this tower and like, the whole death thing had lasted for what, thirty minutes tops? If Rapunzel could find the courage in herself to brave the tower, he should too.

But he couldn't. His stomach was twisting on itself as he held Rapunzel close to him, and his hands were trembling, and his throat was so dry he worried the girls could hear it as he tried weakly to make light of the situation. He didn't want to be here. And when Rapunzel said she was going in alone, the relief in his heart might as well have been poison for how sick it made him feel. He should... He should have tried to help her, but he couldn't.

If she had asked him to come with her inside, would he have been able to?

The question started to haunt him as soon as he sat on Maximus to wait, hoping the horse couldn't feel how jittery he was. It haunted him for the entire time she was inside, and he couldn't see what was happening to her, couldn't know if everything was okay. It haunted him as he tried his hardest not to look to the spot where he knew Gothel fell, where he remembered digging a shallow grave with Rapunzel to bury what was left of the woman she thought to be her mother for most of her life. (It was nothing more than folded clothes, and some ashes, but they had tried their best.)

It kept haunting him even when she came back down, with Pascal in her hands, looking emotional but happy and safe. He held her tightly on the ride back, hoping to bring her comfort just as much as he was trying to ignore the dread still sitting heavy on his chest.

This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Because even when Rapunzel went to sleep, still giving all her attention to Pascal because the little guy deserved it, Eugene couldn’t shake his own uneasiness. His mind kept going back to the tower, and to that door he hadn’t been able to cross, despite wanting to. If Rapunzel had needed help, would he have been able to go up there? Was he really so much of a coward that some bad memories were enough to stop him from supporting the love of his life when she most needed it?

Eugene couldn't sleep. He… He wanted to think that he could have overcome his fears if the situation called for it, but the fact was - he didn't.

Before he could think better of it, Eugene pushed his cover off abruptly, and got up. He put on his clothes quickly, and laced his shoes with trembling hands. He- he needed to prove to himself that he could do it. It was even better that way, he rationalised; he could come to terms with whatever was troubling him without bothering anyone, especially not Rapunzel. He'd go in the tower, see that it was no big deal, and come back to the castle before the sun was up.

Flawless plan, no doubt.

It wasn't too hard finding a horse that was neither Max nor Fidella, and the path to the tower was burnt into his mind. He hadn't expected to go there earlier, and the surprise had made him fumble with his words as his heart sank, but he was ready now. He was ready, and so it made no sense for his pulse to get faster, or for his hands to clench tighter around the reins. He was…

He was fine. He repeated that to himself, as he dismounted the horse, and came face to face with the tower again, heart in his throat. Vaguely, he noticed that he had never seen the tower at night - he had truly not been here long enough for that to happen. That was all the more reason to not be scared, he told himself, trying to ignore how menacing it seemed, looming over him with the moonlight shining down on it.

He could do this. He should do this, just to show he could, and that was it. Just in and out, no one would have to know, and he could sleep in peace that night.

So why was he stuck in front of the door? His right hand laid flat on the cold stones of the tower, and he felt frozen in place, heartbeat echoing loudly in his head. He had gone down this way once, after he- after Rapunzel brought him back. He had been on those stairs, and he hadn’t cared, because he was too worried about Rapunzel's state of mind to be scared of a tower… So why was he now?

The chilly air of the night made him shudder. He clenched his jaw tightly.

"Okay," he muttered, "in and out, I'm just going in and out."

Eugene took a step. Then another. The stairs were dark, the walls covered in moss, and it all smelled of dust. This was an abandoned tower, which couldn't hurt him, and he just had to get over it.

Rapunzel hadn't put back the panel blocking the entry. Eugene climbed up easily, and there he was.

In the tower. For the first time since-

Shaking his head, Eugene started to dust off his clothes, before surveilling the room around him. He hadn't spent a lot of time within these walls, and yet they were sickeningly familiar, even in the darkness.

Around him, still on the floor, was Rapunzel's hair. The one he had-

Before he could try to stop himself, his eyes traveled to the window, and to the staircase where the- the chains that had held him were lying broken, just like they had left them. They hadn't known what to do with them back then. He had still been dizzy, though it was more from fear than blood loss, and Rapunzel had been scared and lost and… They had just left, without looking back.

He took a trembling step towards it. He was alive, he repeated to himself. He was alive, Rapunzel had saved him, and this was simply a place, nothing more. He had no reason to be scared, because he was alive and-

He still remembered how cold he had been, barely able to hold himself up as his own blood coated his side.

Eugene felt himself pale at the memory, and he stumbled back ungracefully, wavering in place as he tried to stay on his feet. He was- he was stupid, this was just a tower, and he- Rapunzel had surmounted it, and he needed to- to-

He had backed himself to the other side of the room. The side right across from the window, the… The side where Rapunzel had been held in chains, fighting to get free as her screams for him were muffled by-

This time, when Eugene tried to get away unsteadily, he tripped on his own feet and fell down heavily. His breathing was loud, and he knew he was well and truly pathetic. This was Rapunzel's tower. The place where she had suffered for eighteen years, trapped with the woman who called herself her mother. And despite the pain and the fear she undoubtedly faced, Rapunzel went up here, and she was fine. Definitely shaken up, but fine.

So why couldn't he be?

He knew she was stronger than he had ever been. She showed it everyday, when she overcame challenges after challenges, while staying optimistic even through the bad times. Eugene simply… He simply wanted to know that she could count on him, even in the hardest moments. He wanted to be able to stay at her side if she asked, no matter the place. But here he was, sitting defeated on the ground, because a few memories made him so tense he trembled.

Eugene closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. He just- he was… He needed to get a hold of himself. He needed to move on from this, because everyone thought he did already, and he- he- well, Rapunzel knew he still struggled sometimes, with the nightmares and the memories, but he needed to be fine, he…

He was scared.

His nails were biting into his palms. He opened his eyes slowly, looking down at the wall to avoid looking at anything that might make him panic again, when he saw it.

The small, uncertain lines of a drawing obviously made by a kid. The scribble was messy, but it was easy to recognise who it was supposed to be - a girl with long blond hair and a smile too big for her face.

Rapunzel.

Slowly, he moved closer, his hand brushing the wood faintly. She had to have been… so young, when she did this. Nowhere near the artist she was now, but with as much joy and imagination, trying to create something to express it. There was a little sun next to the drawing, its rays uneven. It was so easy, to imagine a small, maybe five or six years old Rapunzel, doodling away with a smile on her face.

Eugene let his eyes wander softly on these walls. He got up again, still feeling numb, his gaze going up to more refined drawings, with different styles and quality as Rapunzel experimented. No matter what, though, they were always bright and sunny. There were plants, and birds, and so many Rapunzels smiling and laughing, their hair flowing with an invisible wind.

Each painting, each stroke, hid a part of Rapunzel within it. It was her, so young still, scribbling a sun with too many branches, remembering without knowing the kingdom that was missing her dearly. It was her, growing up, painting flowers upon flowers even though she could barely see some of them through her window, imagining a world she wasn't allowed to live in. It was her, charting the stars on her wall, a painting he could only slightly see in the darkness, but knew was here because she had told him of much time and patience she had needed for that.

He couldn't even see half of it from where he was, but already, he had gotten a glimpse into the world that was hers not too long ago. And… And he was still scared. He still couldn't look at the exact spot where he died, not when there was nothing here to do but think about it.

But, as he was gently tracing the contours of a little Rapunzel, looking longingly at a bird flying next to her, Eugene felt a small smile forming on his lips. This tower was full of memories. Some were painful. Some were not. It was the place that Rapunzel turned into her world, while she waited to be allowed into the real one. It was the place where she grew up, braver and kinder than anyone could have been in her situation. It was also the place where he met her, completely thrown by this determined girl with a lot of hair and a frying pan she wasn't afraid to use. It was a place full of memories, yes, but these memories were hers - these memories were theirs, and there was nothing about Rapunzel that Eugene could hate.

This tower hadn't been their ending. It had been their beginning. Rapunzel's beginning. And Eugene was still eager to leave, hoping to never come back again, but he had his answer now.

For her, he would brave anything.

------

There was a soft knock at her door. Rapunzel nearly didn't hear it - she had been asleep, after all, and had a pretty long and tiring day before that, so she could have missed it really easily… but she didn't. Opening her heavy eyes slowly, she sat up, careful to not wake up Pascal at her side. It was still night, but the sky was getting clearer, so the sun had to be coming up soon.

"Yes?" she whispered, unsure that the person behind her door would hear it.

The door opened to a crack, and Eugene poked his head through.

"Eugene?"

"Hi, uh…" he trailed off, looking embarrassed. She waved him closer, faintly concerned because Eugene never seeked her during the night. He shuffled forward, and she noticed he wasn't wearing his night outfit - had he even slept yet?

"What's wrong?" she asked softly, glancing down to make sure Pascal was still sleeping as she straightened up. "Are you- Did you have a nightmare?"

Usually, she was the one knocking at his door because of them. She knew he had some too, but he always tried to keep them to himself, so the fact that he was here, avoiding her gaze, immediately made her more alert.

"Something like that, I guess... I- I needed you," he admitted in a breath, something indescriptible in his eyes as he finally met hers. "Sorry, I-"

"Come here," she said, patting the empty space to her right. He didn't even protest, instead coming to sit next to her, throwing a glance at Pascal too to make sure the little guy wasn't bothered. Eugene was more thoughtful that he admitted, and she loved him for it - though right now, she was more worried about what was bothering him.

He looked at her, his eyes soft, and full of an emotion she couldn't name. Before she could ask him again if something was wrong, he gently brought her into a hug, and she held him back tightly against her.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, "please don't worry, I just…"

"Needed to see me?" she finished softly. He nodded. "Okay," she whispered, before adding: "You can sleep here if you want."

He hesitated a little, and nodded again. It was a little awkward, but they both shuffled under the covers, one of her hands in his and the other resting on his chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe not right now," he murmured after a while, gaze wandering to her walls. "Did I ever tell you I loved the mural you painted?"

"Yes," she smiled, her eyes still on him. "You always compliment my paintings." She didn't say that she was still surprised, sometimes, that he did. Gothel had nothing against her paintings as long as it didn't inconvenience her, but she also never encouraged it, or even told Rapunzel she was good at it. Having someone in her life genuinely appreciate her creations always made her heart flutter.

"Do you plan to do more? Like…" His free hand vaguely gestured at her still blank ceiling. "That part?"

"I… Yes, I think so. I simply… I want it to mean something," she whispered. "In the tower, I painted every little things that came to mind. Birds, flowers, pretty dresses… Painting helped me feel better when I was lonely, or scared." He was looking at her again, now. His eyes were shining in the darkness. "But now, painting isn't my only source of freedom," she grinned, squeezing his hand tighter, "and I want… I want my room to be full of meaningful memories for me. Things that I can look up to and be proud to have lived through, if that makes sense."

"It does," he breathed, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I still haven't figured out what it'll be," she admitted, caressing the side of his jaw, "but I know already that you will be there for all these new memories."

His eyes widened, before he softened again, looking way more comfortable and sleepy than when he first came in. "I can't wait," he whispered, voice full of emotions.

"I can't either," she whispered back, slowly brushing his hair away as he relaxed.

It had been a difficult day for both of them, she knew. Eugene joked a lot when he was scared, and she… She was glad he came to her, in the end. She was glad he was there with her when she needed him, and she could do the same thing when he needed her. Looking up at the blank space she still needed to fill, she knew that, no matter what, she would treasure all the new memories she made with him.

She really couldn't wait.

#tangled #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel #tangled the series #New Dream Appreciation Week

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