#same goes for the fingerless gloves

[motherhenna]

Even though my gaming laptop is dead and I can't replay Oblivion rn, I've decided to design a new Hero of Kvatch anyway that fits into the same universe as my other heroes. And since my Nerevarine and Dragonborn are both women, I figured I should buck the pattern and throw a guy in there lol. His whole vibe was equally inspired by both ancient greek / roman busts and Moses from Dreamwork's Prince of Egypt.

I've always liked the trope of blind characters with the ability of precognition, which is what I decided to explore with Aurelius--likely the result of an ill-advised bargain with Clavicus Vile on his father's part. The man wanted himself and members of his family to be "noticed and recognized by those in power", though failed to foresee that this would apply to more than just kings and nobles. In fact, turns out that drawing the curious eyes of several Daedric princes isn't ideal for the wellbeing of your unborn child, and Azura's boon of prophecy doesn't exactly play nice with bouts of madness and delusion...party favors from Sheogorath and Vaermina.

Haven't fleshed him or the story out much, yet, but y'all know how I am: always happy to add another softboy to my roster lmao I promise I know how to draw / write men who aren't in some way soft but can't say I'm interested in doing that

[ceilidho]

prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

-

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.  

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision. 

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask. 

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work. 

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes. 

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days. 

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate. 

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window. 

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak. 

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him. 

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change. 

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side. 

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye. 

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt. 

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply. 

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up. 

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist. 

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it. 

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger. 

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath. 

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing. 

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way. 

You, however, press yourself back into him. 

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust. 

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do. 

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound. 

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. 

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up. 

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears. 

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment. 

“No—no one else—” 

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.” 

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. 

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus. 

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist. 

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—” 

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone. 

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

[ovaryacted]

me and a friend were talking about Leon during classes today and I couldn’t get dad bod Leon out of my mind😪 I need it bad

I just imagined him coming home tired after a long day of work and needing and relief and just letting reader suck him off or bending us in half, being all soft and warm and I had to stop thinking about it because I was getting distracted😭

-🐏

MDNI/18+. NSFW. | Vendetta! Dad Bod! Leon x fem! reader CW: blowjobs, fingering | WC: 1.1k

I've been meaning to answer this message for a while but haven't had the energy to properly decipher my thoughts. But yeah ram anon, listen I've been in a serious dad bod Leon phase which is all @larvamars fault with their recent drawings. I have moments where I'm at work and my brain just goes "mmm, Vendetta! Dad Bod! Leon" and I lose focus so I get it. It's just something comforting about him having a stomach and thickness that you can grab on to. I need it bad.

Stepping through the front door, the agent walked over the threshold of the entryway and closed the door behind him. Lowering the zipper of his leather jacket, he tossed it over the back of the couch and trudged towards it, plopping himself down with a heavy grunt. Leon placed his head against the edge of the couch and inhaled before exhaling out of his mouth, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose as his eyes fluttered closed.

Today was a pain in the ass, the cycle of continuous bio-weapon debriefs and missions gave him a run for his money and an unwanted migraine. All he had been thinking about was coming home and cuddling with you, rotting away in bed together until the next morning. He missed you, he always did, and lately, you have been the only source of release from his pent-up stress.

"Leon? Is that you?" He heard your voice filter through his thoughts, lifting his head slightly from where he rested to skim your silhouette.

"Yeah baby, it's me. Come here," opening his arms out for you, you didn't need to be told twice to move, gravitating towards him and situating yourself over his denim-clad lap.

"Rough day?" You asked him, thick arms wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to his warm chest. He breathed in and breathed out, your scent filling his senses and easing his ticked nerves.

"Something like that," he groaned when you rubbed at the base of his neck, lightly massaging his nape. He gripped your thighs and caressed you, the rough material of his fingerless leather gloves contradicting his needy touch.

"I missed you today," he confessed in a tired whisper, kissing softly along the side of your neck, his affectionate side coming through.

"You did?"

"Of course I did. Needed to come home so you can take care of me." He squeezed your body a bit harder, the tension he felt building up and flowing to another region down south.

You hummed in contentment, hands running down from his neck to the softness of his chest and towards his lower stomach. He knew he didn't have the same physique from a few years ago when he was younger, the extra weight counted on with time and his figure began to expand. It initially bothered him and it took him a long while to fully look in the mirror again. But to you? It just gave you more to grab, more to hold, more to love.

"Yeah? Need me to make you feel better baby?" You leaned forward the slightest bit, giving him a sweet peck and his hips a teasing grind. The corner of his lips curved in a smile, his dimple shy of making itself known along with the growing bulge hidden underneath his jeans.

"Mhm. You're the only one that knows what I need," he gripped onto your hips, meshing his lips with your own and urging your mouth open to make room for his tongue. You could taste the faint traces of whiskey left behind from when he snuck a sip from his flask earlier, not that you minded.

He was always touch-deprived, always greedy for more but you never complained. You were more than inclined to please him the best way you knew how.

Propped on your knees in front of the couch, you bobbed your head over Leon's cock, a daily occurrence it seemed, and one of your favorite things to do. The fingers of one hand grasped at the thickness of his thighs, a soft layer of fat over the muscle he sported so frequently. The other was busy rubbing at your clit beneath your cotton shorts in tight circles, moaning with every pass of your tongue over his length.

"Feels so good sweetheart," Leon said above you, his neck strained with the way his head was thrown back, clasping your jaw to guide your movements over him.

“Open wider for me baby, want to be deep in there,” he commanded, instinctively relaxing your jaw until he hit the back of your throat with ease, gagging before repeating the act over and over again.

“Fuuuck, that’s it,” he hissed, shifting his attention downwards to watch you suck him off. 

You held his gaze then, following up his happy trail and his lower tummy, admiring the way it folded and creased from the way he slouched. You focused on the stretch marks that made a tantalizing path around his hips and his biceps, lines you wanted to trace with an imprint of kisses. Whimpering at the thought, you drooled around his length, his pelvis becoming a mess of spit from the amount that dribbled out of you. You moaned loudly when you slipped two fingers into your pussy, wishing you had something more to fill the empty ache between your legs.

Leon grinned at the sight of you craving his touch so badly, paying attention to the telltale signs of you reaching the edge with the way your hand pumped in and out of you.

“So desperate for me, poor thing hates being empty,” he patronized you, the pleasant hum you gave him sending his hips jerking into your face. It was only a matter of time before he spilled down your throat and made a mess of you—just the way you wanted.

“Don’t worry. I’ll feed ya, honey. Just a little bit more and you got me,” Leon grumbled, fucking up into your mouth with an audible plap plap plap. Your throat constricted around him, his balls hitting your chin with every thrust he gave you. Eyes rolling into the back, you focused on regulating your breathing when he slammed your head down to press your nose into his pubic hair as he came.

“Take it, fucking take it.” He practically roared from his release, pudgy stomach and dense legs flexing from your touch, your nails digging into him and leaving crescent marks. You choked as your walls clenched around your digits, in tune with his climax and your own hitting you with a dull cry.

As gently as he could, he drew you away from his softening cock, letting you catch your breath with a light cough. Your lips felt numb and your eyes were bloodshot with tears, but you’ve never been more satisfied, a dopey smile evident on your features.

“How about I return the favor now? Gotta clean up the mess my girl made.” He proposed with a smirk, affectionately wiping away the spit that stained your cheeks along with the tears that left their streaks.

This was why Leon liked coming home to you. You’ll always be there with open arms, an open mouth, and open legs.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[denim-devil]

Bad To The Bone - Week 1 | Mirror Fucking/Hair pulling

Summary - When hearts collide, Billy chooses to chase after the longing thoughts that have only you in the midsts of them all, the biggest halloween party ever hosted in the small town of Hawkins was his best bet to finally entice those very thoughts…

Pairings - Bully!Billy Hargrove x M!Reader

The cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he stalked the crowded room, his eyes lingering on the current sight before him. Steve’s hands were far to close for his liking, lightly grabbing at your swaying hips.

What had felt like an eternity, Billy slowly crept toward the two of you, anger and malice ran through his veins like the blood circulating his body had done, bubbling up, growing closer to a boiling point.

Steve’s lips felt warm against the crook of your neck, his teeth nibbling gently against the dampness. Although under the influence, you had no desire to stop him, not after the end of your mid-night rendezvous with the current king and bully of Hawkins High.

A slight shove had forced the ridiculed Steve into the wall beside the two of you, a harsh bang sounding out into the room, even with the noisy crowd of teenage students and the humming beats of madonna…it was loud.

“Watch it asshole-“

Steve ushered out with a hiss. As if time itself was a concept, you stood, frozen. Billy stood with a proud smirk, his black, slightly damp leather jacket was hung open, showcasing the toned physique you were once frequented with.

“Watch what? I didn’t do anything”

Billy tuts, his eyes flicking over to you, looking you up and down like he would his next meal, like a dangerous predator to it’s prey. A certain ache began to pool between your legs, what were once pale, your cheeks were now a deep shade of crimson, taking note of Billy’s looming figure.

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet?”

Taking a puff of his cigarette, it goes back to laying loose between a shit-eaten grin, his tongue flicking over the orange tip. Billy had no time for games, nor Steve’s bullshit, instead he opted for the obvious choice, charging toward you with his fingerless leather gloves which eagerly wrapped around your bicep, yanking you toward the stairs.

“Oh your in so much shit sweetheart”

He half growled, half whispered, even with the music blaring and the crowd going back to dancing and chatting, Billy took himself seriously, only wanting you to know what was to follow as you stumbled up behind him, leaving a confused Steve, stammering around in the very same corner.

He hadn’t bothered to look back, feeling how limp your wrist was within his grip had told him everything he needed to know, you had no fight to win, Billy had already won, more so with the dingy bathroom door flying open with a tug and a kick.

Thump, thump, thump. It rang through your ears like an alarm, heartbeat pacing like a jockey and it’s horse during a race, running quicker once the door slammed shut and the click of the lock latching away both your confidence and the thoughts of an impending escape.

He stood, flicking the cigarette bud onto the floor before raising one of his heavy boots, stomping the crisp leftovers into dust.

You watched the older male proceed to shake of his jacket, leaving him in just the denim jeans he was naturally acquainted with.

“You better think twice before ever letting Harrington touch you like that again-“

Nodding was the only beneficial answer, earning a daring smirk from the manic jock before you. His golden locks were matted yet matched the darkness now claiming the once ocean blue eyes he usually sported, his hair resting against the sweaty tan skin that covered his innards.

His steps grew closer with each thump correlating with your heartbeat, black boots treading against the tiled floor toward you until his warm breath fanned lightly across your pink-dusted cheeks.

“Billy- please, it was nothing, j-just needed something”

He tutted before pressing his body against you, pushing you further into the floral wallpapered brick behind, instantly making you feel small and defenceless.

“Save it- you need to learn a thing or two…”

Billy doesn’t think twice, he normally doesn’t before acting on said thoughts, twisting your body, roughly laying you stomach first against the counter top that faced the elongated mirror before you.

His body, warm and delectable now rolled into your arched form from behind, pushing most of his growing erection against you, forcing you to feel your own impending doom.

“You should be thanking me sweetheart, you got this cock all to yourself and you were ready to throw it away like dog shit- fuck”

You incoherently mumble a short “no” before pushing back momentarily, testing the waters. Luck had happened to be in your favour, a starving Billy, craving nothing but to ravish you groaned before pulling back.

It was easier to see this way, watching eager finger tips make quick work of his leather belt and crotch zipper, both thumbs hooking into the burgundy band of his boxers, wiggling them down slowly, past the light trimming of blonde pubes surrounding his veiny, thick base.

“Can’t stop thinking about how easily you take this dick”

Your tongue trails over your dry lips, watching as the band smoothly runs further down, catching on the moist tip before being completely removed, his cock bounces, loudly slapping into his toned abdomen, the head angry with urgency, a deep crimson in colour, he was thick from base to tip, a singular girthy vein running on the underside, splitting off just underneath the curve of his tip.

He chuckled at the reaction, watching as the same lips he used to get himself once in the janitor closet after gym class hung agape, eyes wide with earnest and adoration.

“Don’cha think Harrington would give it in so easy? Look at you, all dolled up for the wrong guy-“

You groan into the warm air of the now secluded space, the bathroom, although big felt small with the presence of Billy watching over you, his shadow looming in every corner from the dim strip light placed just above the mirror, forwarding his domineering ways.

“Billy- I got dolled up for you…”

As if words were a dagger, sharp and pointy, cutting into his skin, seeping deeper and changing his whole point of view. It was clear now, from the tight, revealing light wash jeans that hugged every spot he had both discovered and devoured more then once to the dainty leather jacket that had you looking smaller then usual, swallowing you up.

“Oh really? Fuck princess, you really know how to rile up a guy”

His fingers tips scrambled from your inner thighs upward, towards the belt loops and eventually to the knot holding you together.

Billy had made quick work with your belt and jeans, unclasping the metal before roughly pulling down the tight denim that hugged you perfectly, followed by the white briefs unveiling the very source of his affliction and desire.

His cock, thick and heavy, laid perfectly between your crack, pulsing at the very thought of being inside once again, after weeks of having blue balls, it was his forbidden truth to feel you all over again, like the first.

“Harrington could never- you really think he could fuck you the way I do? Make you feel things…”

Reaching down, a warm hand cups the base of your dick before slightly tugging, the leather cold against the warmth he was supplying. The moans that had forced themselves from deep within bubbled up into a whimper once surpassing your open lips.

His free hand managed to sneakily wrap itself within your hair, tugging harshly, you were not getting out of this, even if you had the choice.

“I won’t ask you again doll-“

You mumble a sharp, squeaky “no” once the angry tip rests softly against the puckered skin surrounding your entrance and Billy’s gateway into bliss. A few more tugs was all he offered up before removing his hand from your dribbling member, slightly patting at the pert globes you arched into him.

He chuckled cockily, his beer-soaked chest resting against your clothed back before looking up into the glass mirror. It was almost invigorating to see himself like this, to watch you wriggle with anticipation, giving in so easily, allowing Billy himself to guide you through his ecstasy, it was even better, a strangers bathroom had never brought him so much glory.

“Atta boy, come on, won’t you relax for me, let me in sweetheart…”

He slips in with ease, creating a stretch that burned like the sun, growing with each passing inch, watching as his tongue danced against your neck, how your features twisted with pain…then pleasure.

“Look at yourself-“

He settles against you before pressing his hips flush against your own, filling you up, warm and thick in your gut. Tear-stained eyes flick up to settle on his baby blues that twitched with lust, his smirk big and proud, almost intimidating.

“That’s it- that’s my pretty boy, such a sweet thing for me, all for me”

He panted before pulling completely back with an audible pop, watching his cock bob, he ushered himself back in to the hilt with a loud slap, this was something Billy would never forget, clearly.

“Keep your eyes on me princess-“

You did, watching him roll his hips, feeling each inch slip and slide against your velvet walls, his tip edging it’s way back and forth, watching your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Bill- Billy, please-“

You gasp before he presses fully forward, pushing against your pleasure spot and watching you gasp, tongue licking at dry lips. Once again you find his eyes, blushing at the wet laps he gives your neck.

“You’ll think twice next time hmm?”…

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove

Leon Kennedy x fem reader Thinking of making this a little series, will be a fluff, bit of a slow burn, bodyguard trope?

You aren’t sure how you’d got through the last few hours.  Everything’s a blur as you try to think back of the horror that had occurred, now you’re now sat in an unfamiliar chair in an unfamiliar office. Your right arm is in a sling, shoulder throbbing somewhat from a reset dislocation, broken fingers splintered together on the same arm, medical tape holding a wound closed on your temple, disinfectant swiped across the numerous scrapes, your body aching with developing bruises on your legs, poking out from under your dress, from the fall down the stairs – the fall that apparently ended up saving your life from the unearthly creature that had rampaged through your workplace and tore your co-workers apart.

After being treated by a DSO medic, you’d been escorted by a tall, armed to the gills, annoyingly silent man. He’d confiscated your phone, despite the fact the screen was smashed and wouldn’t turn on, and taken you across the city to the main HQ, ushered up a side entrance into the room you now sat, told you to wait, and left you alone for what felt like hours.

The door eventually opens and a smartly dressed, pretty woman, hair pinned up in a bun and wearing glasses enters, immediately heading to the other side of the desk and taking what you assumed was her seat. A handsome man accompanied her, shaggy brown hair, dressed in cargo pants, fingerless gloves, knife strapped to his thigh, finished off with a leather jacket, a holster poking out from underneath. He gives you a sympathetic once over as he sits down besides you, careful not to brush your knee with his own as he does. Considerate.

“Were you given adequate pain medication?” The lady asks abruptly, beginning to type on her keyboard.

You stare at her a moment – she’s all business. “Er… Yeah. Thanks.” Though you’re sure the two of them have noticed the wince as you shuffled in your seat. The medic had offered you stronger stuff but you’d declined, wanting to keep your wits about you. “Sorry, what’s happening now?”

“I’m Ingrid Hunnigan, this is Agent Kennedy.” She nods to the man opposite her.

“Name’s Leon.” The man besides you offers his hand and you notice he’s adapted for your incapacitated arm, in what will surely result in a very awkward handshake but the gesture is nice. You take it, hoping the tremor in your grip isn’t so painfully obvious. “Hi. Erm, I’m-”

“Dove.” Hunnigan cuts you off. “I am aware of your identity, but we will be referring to you as Dove.”

“It’s a codename.” Leon explains, a little less business. “For your safety.”

Hunnigan pauses in her typing, hitting backspace slowly as she replies. “Agent Kennedy will be your protection detail until we get this mess squared up.”

Your breath catches in your throat at her choice of word, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach. “Mess? It was a massacre in there-”

“I know. We know.” The agent besides you stresses. “I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

“Am I the only one who…?” You don’t know why you ask.

“I’m afraid so.” Hunnigan replies, a little softer in tone. “We’re going to send you to a safe house. Agent Kennedy will stay with you.”

“O-okay.” You nod, not taking it all in. “You… You think they’d send whatever that thing was after me?”

“That’s what we need time to establish.” Hunnigan replies. “From the CCTV, after the attack, there was a breach on the database. We need to establish how much data they managed to extract, if any. Agent Kennedy will keep you updated as much as he can when he receives any intel.” She turns more to him then, cutting you out of the conversation. “I’ll send the co-ordinates of the safe house when you’re out of the city. They’re loading up an SUV with supplies for at least a week. If it goes on longer, we’ll arrange a supply drop via another location.”

“That long?” You feel like you’re interrupting.

“Worse case scenario, Dove.” Leon offers you a smile. “I’m sure we’ll have you back home in no time. Did they send you away with any meds?”

“The medic sent in a report – with a treatment plan. It’s in the information pack, prescribed medicine is in with the supplies. Again, enough for a week.” Hunnigan replies. “I’ve arranged clothes too – medic guessed your size for me. We’ll be keeping your phone for now.”

“Why?”

“We can’t allow you to contact anyone – for your safety and theirs.”

Your heart skips a beat at that comment. “Wait… You think I might be behind this, don’t you?”

Hunnigan purses her lips. “It is an avenue we need to explore. There are questions as to why you alone survived. We will be dispatching a team to your residence once the two of you are out of the city to help in our investigation.”

“Again, that’s just protocol.” Leon tries to reassure, but your mind is whirling. “No-one is accusing you of anything, Dove.”

“I… I’ve worked here for years, I passed all the clearance checks. I wouldn’t, I didn’t…”

“As Agent Kennedy said, it’s just protocol. If you have nothing to hide, there is nothing to fear.” Hunnigan resumes tapping away at the keyboard as she talks, pausing as the computer emits a ping. “SUV’s ready. I suggest you two go.”

Leon gets to his feet, once more offering his hand to help you to yours. He smiles, sympathetically, as he takes in your appearance – your face has lost what little colour it had.

“Time to go, Dove. It’ll be all right.”

You want to say no, you feel like you need to stay to plead your innocence, but you catch sight of the gun holstered by his side and the flame of defiance is extinguished. You take his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He places his hand on the small of your back to guide you back through the door and you can’t work out if it should feel like comfort or a threat.

--

You felt numb as Leon had escorted you to a large SUV with blacked out windows in an empty carpark. He’d opened the door for you, helped you climb in before hesitating.

“Need a hand with your seatbelt?”

You stare at him for a moment too long.

“Because of your arm, I mean.”

“Oh. Please.”

He leans over you, grabbing the seatbelt and clicking it into place.

“Right. Comfy?”

“Yeah.” You swallow. “Thanks.”

He nods, closes the door behind him – softly, you note, rather than a slam and it’s then you realise that you also can’t see out the windows. He hops up into the front, buckles his own seatbelt and starts the engine, swinging the SUV out of the parking space with ease. You can’t really see anything from where you’re sat, bar the back of his head and it must be deliberate.

“Hopefully it’s not too long of a drive.” He comments. “Had one that was a twelve hours’ away once and we are not allowed to stop for bathroom breaks.”

“Are you allowed to tell me how far away it is when you know?”

“Don’t see why not. Hunnigan will ping it through once we’re clear enough.”

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed when, eventually, the promised ping echoes around the car. You can hear him tap his fingers against something and he hums to himself.

“We’re in luck – about two hours away, Dove. Want some music on? Don’t have any CDs but got the radio.”

Maybe the music will help drown out how loud your heart is thudding in your ears. ”Yeah, sure.”

He fiddles with the dial – sound crackling around the car before it settles on some acoustic tune you don’t recognize. Must be some easy listening station.

“You can nap, if you like.”

“Maybe.” Though you’re not sure how you’ll ever sleep again after today.

The rest of the drive passes in silence, apart from the sound of the radio. You close your eyes a few times, leaning your head back against the seat but the creature seems burned into your retinas, haunting your vision.

“This is us.” Leon breaks the silence as you feel the car turn and he reduces the speed. He switches off the car and unclicks his seatbelt, turning back to face you. “Wait there just a moment, okay?”

“Yeah.”

 He smiles, opens his door and hops out, again closing the door softly behind him. What must be a few minutes later, your door opens and he once again offers his hand.

“Ready?

You unclip your seatbelt with your good hand before accepting his outstretched one, helping you step down from the SUV. You’re in a garage now of some sort – spacious enough to fit the car and what looks to be a chest freezer, washer and tumble dryer - the whole room illuminated by an orange bulb.

“So, we said safe house – seems more like a safe bungalow to me. I’ll give you the tour.” He gestures forward towards an open door and you walk forward, once again his hand falling to the small of your back. It leads through to a modest sized kitchen – usual white appliances and opens out into a living room with two couches, a coffee table and an entertainment unit with a television. There are two more doors along the wall, but what really strikes you is how small the windows all are, covered in thick panes of glass.

Bulletproof, you wonder.

“Bathroom’s this one,” he opens the door in demonstration, revealing a typical bathroom, before moving along. “And the bedroom.” It has a double bed, white linen sheets, a wardrobe and dresser. “Your bedroom,” he corrects. “I’ll be on the couch.”

“Oh. Is that comfortable?”

He smiles at your concern. “I’m pretty good at sleeping anywhere, but it looks comfortable enough. Speaking of, it’s pretty late so I think we should call it a night.” He ducks into the bathroom, pulling out a washbag from under the sink and empties the contents on the counter. “Standard toiletries kit to start us off. I’m gonna start bringing in the supplies. Sound good?”

You nod and he heads back towards the garage. You kick off your shoes before you step into the bathroom and close the door, twisting the lock closed. You use the facilities with some difficulty, your first visit since being an arm down, though thankful to be in a dress so as not to battle with trousers. After what some might call a best attempt of washing your hand, you pick up the toothbrush and immediately put it back down in annoyance as you realise you’ll need to deal with the toothpaste first. Thankful for the flip cap, the tube slips from your grip as you squeeze, shooting across the counter and knocking a glass off the counter, sending it smashing to the floor.

“Fu-” The word doesn’t even make it out of your mouth when the door is broken open, slammed against the wall and Leon is stood there, gun raised as you scream.

He scans the room with his eyes, concedes it’s clear and lowers his gun. “What happened? You okay?”

“I… I d-dropped the t-t-toothpaste and smashed the g-glass and…” Your breath catches in your throat again, tears burning in your eyes.

“Hey,” he holsters the gun on his thigh. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay. Sorry for scaring you. I thought there was a window in here.”

He looks down at the broken glass that’s exploded over the floor and your sock-clad feet. “Sit down, all right? I’ll clear this up.”

“No, I s-should-”

“I can do it. Just sit, please. I’ll go grab a dustpan – they have one. Not my first safe house.” He soothes, heading off into the kitchen cupboards in search of it.

You sit down on the closed toilet seat lid and wonder bitterly if he’s at more safe houses than his own home. You take the moment to try and settle your breathing, your heart still pounding.

Leon appears at the door once more, grinning as he holds the dustpan and brush aloft in triumph. “Found it.” He crouches down, beginning to sweep up the glass. You watch in silence as he tackles the floor methodically, making sure to brush along each square of bathroom tile until he seems satisfied with his work.

“There. All done.” He places it to the side and grabs the troublesome toothpaste tube, before standing up to his full height. “So, this was the culprit, huh?”

You nod. “I don’t know what happened - the only difference was the toothbrush being on the counter, so I should be able to do it, just-”

He picks up the toothbrush and squeezes a blob of toothpaste on it. “On the house.” Leon jokes, offering it back to you. You stand up and accept it, hesitantly.

“I kinda feel pathetic.” You admit.

“Dove…” You’re getting a little used to the name now. It sounds nice off his tongue – soft and sweet. “You’ve had a shitty day, give yourself a break.”

“No, I mean, it just feels like you’re my servant or something – sweeping up, squeezing out my toothpaste...”

“To protect and serve’s the motto.” He smiles at your confused look. “I was a cop before I was an agent.”

“And this is the stuff you did as a cop?”

“Yes, alongside the helping old ladies with their groceries, helping ducks cross the street…” He teases, before nodding at the toothbrush in your hand. “I’ll leave you to it.”

After brushing your teeth without further incident and taking a few more moments to compose yourself, you exit the bathroom. Leon’s stood at the kitchen counter, paper bag in hand, looking at pill packets. There’s a couple of duffel bags near the garage door, one unzipped.

“Medical notes say it’s painkiller time, I’m afraid.” He grabs a glass from the cupboard, fills it up with water from the tap and places it down besides two white pills. “They’ve given you some sleeping tablets as well, but that’s up to you.”

“Do they stop you dreaming?”

Leon grimaces at your question. “From personal experience, yeah. No dreams.”

You hold out your hand. “Then I’ll take them.”

He nods, shaking another two pills out of a bottle and into his hand, picking up the other two and drops them in your hand. You open your mouth and throw them in, before accepting the glass of water, swallowing it all down.

“So, er, this is gonna be a little bit awkward, but I don’t know what you prefer to sleep in, obviously, but I’m assuming not that.”

“Oh. Yeah, no.”

“So, I pulled out a couple of things.” He nods towards the bedroom, where you can see some items of clothing laying out on the bed. He’s turned the bedside lamp on, the room softly illuminated in a white glow.

“You really are a safe house pro.”

“Ha, yeah.” He grins, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess my question is, do you need a hand with changing? 100% respectful offer, obviously.”

You nod. “Please.”

“Okay. After you.”

You walk into the bedroom, Leon keeping his distance this time. There’s an oversized t-shirt in the pile, looks like it will reach your knees. You pick it up with your good hand, clutching it close to your chest and turn to face him.

“Can you help with the sling?”

“Yep.” He nods – professional, unstrapping it with ease and removing it gently. “Afraid medic says you need to sleep with the sling for a week.”

“Mm.” You nod, hanging your arm down loose before turning around. “I guess if you could unzip and I’ll…”

“Got it.” He tugs down the zipper of your dress slowly – if it was some other encounter you’d say he was being a tease. He stops as he reaches the small of your back, just above your underwear. “What can I do now?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, but there’s no getting around it now. “Any good at undoing a bra? Professionally.”

“Professionally, yep.” You feel gentle fingers deftly unclasp it with ease.

“I think I’ve got it from now until the sling needs back on, so-”

“Say no more. Just call when you’re ready.”

The door closes behind you and you exhale, trying to compose yourself. It’s more months since a man had helped you out of a dress and this, after everything today and the situation you’re in, unsure if he sees you as victim or villain, shouldn’t be making you feel flustered.

Gingerly, you slip one arm out of the dress, followed by the other, wincing as you do so and allowing it to pool down at your feet. Next comes your bra, and then you gently pull the t-shirt over your head, again flinching as your shoulder smarts.

Decent, or decent enough, you call out. “Leon? I’m ready.”

“Coming in.” He announces, pausing a moment before opening the door and immediately moves to pick up the sling from where he placed it on the bed. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

With practiced hands, he positions your arm into the sling, adjusting it carefully and fastening it in place once more. “There. Feel okay?”

“Yeah.” You look him in the eyes then – beautiful, blue eyes, before fighting back a yawn. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “That will be the sleeping pills kicking in. I forgot to mention they’re real heavy duty.”

“Mm.” You sit down on the bed then, a little too heavily, before picking up your discarded dress on the floor. “Could you bin this?”

“Of course.” He takes it from you, no question. “Anything else I can do?”

“No. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me, Dove. It’s all right – I told you, part of the job.”

“Still, thank you.” You mumble, head feeling heavy.

“Here,” he pulls back the covers as you scooch yourself back and lean your head back on the pillow, tucking the duvet in over you. “Arm still okay?”

You nod, looking up at him with bleary eyes.

“I swear what happened wasn’t anything to do with me. I swear.”

“Shh,” Leon hushes. “I know.” He feels it in his gut, felt it since the moment he lay eyes on you in Hunnigan’s office. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll hear some updates. But, for now, just sleep. Okay, Dove?”

“Sleep, okay…” You mumble, closing your eyes.

Leon hovers a moment, noting the change in your breathing as the sleeping pills pull you under. He turns off the bedside lamp and leaves the bedroom, quietly, your dress clutched in his hand. He places it in the kitchen bin – there’s an incinerator round the back to erase all trace of their visit, but he’ll do that in the morning.

He makes his way over to the sofa and lies down, not even bothering to remove his boots.

He won’t be sleeping tonight.

-- Do let me know if you'd be interested in a part two! x EDIT: Part two!

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Blow Your Top Off

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: angst, being picked on and teased, blowing up and saying something hurtful

Summary: By day, you're a badass Avenger with fire powers. By night, you're a chemistry student just looking to get a degree. Things would go so much smoother if Loki wasn't there to bother you every single time.

Squares Filled: free space (2021) for @lokibingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Another successful mission down and your day isn’t even halfway over yet. Off goes your Avengers clothes and on goes your casual clothes. Your Avengers outfit consists of stretchy spandex, leather knee-high boots, knife holsters, a fire-resistant jacket and fingerless gloves, and cute cat earrings to top it off. Your public attire consists of leggings, boots that scrunch at your ankles, an oversized sweater, and a cute headband with little ducks on them. 

No one would be able to tell that the badass Avenger is now a snuggly college-going woman. You grab the things you need for all of your classes and cram them into what feels like the smallest backpack ever. You grab your laptop bag and head out of your bedroom to join the others in the main room.

Only a few more semesters of this. You can do this.

“I’ll be back at two in the morning. Don’t wait up for me.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Natasha says. “To work physically then mentally sounds exhausting.”

“It’s not easy but if I want my biochemistry degree, I have to.”

Your love for science and chemistry is almost as big as your love for being an Avenger and helping people.

“Hey,” Bruce says and comes out of his lab, “when you get back, I’ll have the lab unlocked for you.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you guys later.”

A lot of the time, you, Bruce, and Tony would spend time together in the labs to create different chemicals and hone your skills as a scientist. They do their best to push you to the limit which you’re thankful for. There are things you won’t learn in college that Tony and Bruce can teach you. You leave the tower and walk down the street to the nearest subway. You don’t have a car but you like taking public transportation. It helps you calm your mind before a stressful day in school or at work. You don’t have to worry about driving laws or other people because you can sit back and focus on other things.

People pass by you without a second glance because they don’t recognize you without your Avenger gear on. You’re kind of glad that you’re not seen as a celebrity like Tony. You like separating your personal life and work life. You’re not paying much attention to those around you but you do notice when you see familiar black shoes in your vision.

Loki saw you leave the tower and decided to join you on your walk to school. Out of all the Avengers you deal with, Loki has to be the worst one. It started off as a dislike but it’s creeping into annoyance and hatred territory. All he does is play pranks on you, always trying to one-up you on missions, annoys the shit out of you, and generally isn’t a good person when it comes to you. To others, he’s quiet and minds his own business so you don’t know why you’re the outlier.

“Leave me alone, Loki,” you sigh and continue to walk.

“What? It’s good to have a buddy in the city. You never know when someone will come up to you and grab you.”

“If they try that, I’ll burn them,” you smile sarcastically. Not only are you a badass Avenger, but you also have fire powers you know how to use well. You look at Loki with fire in your eyes. “Do you want a demonstration?”

Loki chuckles, completely unaffected by your threat.

“Darling, I’d ice you out before you even got the chance.”

“Don’t call me that,” you glare and walk faster to get away from him.

“Whatever you say, love.”

You two get to the subway and walk onto the same subway car. The bastard even sits next to you even though there are other empty seats around. Since it’s past eight at night on a weekday, the subways have been cleared of everyone bustling to and from their jobs. You put in your headphones to block out Loki’s chatter even though he continues to talk.

You’re not sure why he’s going to the same college as you, or why he’s even going to college in the first place. He claims he wants to try more human things like college but you don’t believe him. He got himself enrolled in the same classes as you as if he’s actually interested in chemistry. You’re here to work hard to further your career while he’s here to mock you. 

He uses magic to cheat for the right answers, which is another reason why you hate him. He can do things effortlessly and nothing bad ever happens to him. The subway ride only takes twenty minutes but being with Loki makes it feel like it’s for longer. 

For the first class you two have, Loki tries to disrupt your train of thought or messes up your notes so you have to start all over. He continues this behavior for your next two classes so much that you’re about ready to burn this entire building down with him inside of it. He’s picking something off your sweater and is talking about something he noticed about the previous Avengers mission and it’s starting to get to you.

You grip the sides of your desk and allow your fire powers to flare angrily. Your powers even burn the edges of the desk to a dark char.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I will blow your fucking head off,” you hiss at him.

By the last class, you’re just trying not to cry. Loki is really pressing your buttons and you’re trying to be nice and civil about it. If he continues then he’s not going to like what comes out of you. For someone with fire powers, you’re usually very tame. However, when you get pissed, everyone better stays out of your way because you can be very harsh.

“I’m warning you right now, stop,” you whisper to him.

Loki pokes your side once and that’s enough to make you blow up. You stand up so angrily that you kick your chair back several feet behind you.

“Shut the fuck up!! God, you’re an annoying little prick!” you scream at him. Everyone, including the teacher, stops what they’re doing to look at you. “No one at the tower wants you there, you’re always butting into everyone’s business like it’s yours, and I’m shocked you were ever loved in the first place! Odin should have left you on Jotunheim! No wonder people like Thor better!”

Loki stares at you with his mouth open and hurt written across his features. Yes, he knew this was coming. He knew if he continued to bug you, this would come out and bite him in the ass. He just never knew how much it’ll hurt.

“Y/N! Loki! Please exit my class,” the professor scowls. “Make your way to the Dean’s office.”

You huff in anger and gather your things while Loki sits there dumbfounded. He brought this on himself but he can’t help but feel hurt at your words. You’re the first one out of the classroom with Loki trailing behind you slowly. The Dean didn’t have anything helpful to add since she told you to go talk to the counselor who might help with your anger issues.

You’re not sure why this is necessary but you don’t want to get expelled from this school. You’ve worked too hard to let Loki ruin it all for you, so you go to her office without question. You and Loki have been sitting in her office for the past thirty minutes without saying a word to each other.

“Do you have anything to say to each other?”

You turn away from Loki without looking at him, proving to him that you really don’t want to look at him. It took everything in you not to use your powers on him.

“Okay, we’re going to try something.” She reaches into her desk and produces two pens and two pieces of paper that she passes to you two. “You’re going to write something you like about the other. Just one thing. Can you do that or should I get the Dean in here?”

The fear of getting expelled is enough for you to comply with her silly request. You cross your legs and use your thigh as a base so you can write on the paper. Loki sees you doing this so he decides to do this, too. You peek over at Loki to see something shining on his wrist. He always has the best things to wear since he brings them from Asgard. On his wrist is a shiny gold bracelet that has the stars woven into the sides of it.

It’s pretty, you guess. You can’t think of anything else since you’re still pissed at him so you write that you love his bracelet. Once you’re done, you fold the paper and hand it over to Loki. He’s finished writing and folded his own but only takes yours instead of exchanging it. He opens it, reads it, folds it back up, and pockets it.

“What about my note?”

“I couldn’t think of anything.”

He grabs his bag and leaves the office before you can say anything to him. The counselor sighs and writes something down on her pad.

“Listen, I’ve seen your record. This is your first offense. I only wanted to keep the peace here. Don’t do it again.”

You grab your bag with a huff and leave her office without another word. Prick, you think to yourself. Loki isn’t there when you ride the train back to the Tower. You’re so exhausted that you’re not even going to go into the lab to do some extra work. Your mind is too preoccupied with Loki to care about anything else. What you said was mean and you shouldn’t have said it, but he makes you so fucking pissed.

You walk into your room and dump your bookbag onto your bed so you can put everything away. You get to the last few items when you see a plastic baggie at the bottom of your bag. It wasn’t there when you left the Tower earlier. Inside the baggie is Loki’s bracelet and a note. You open the note and read Loki’s delicate handwriting.

I couldn’t think of just one thing. Everything about you is amazing. I am sorry for bothering you.

If you felt bad before, you feel guilty now. Loki has had a thing for you ever since he came to the tower, but he doesn't know how to deal with these new emotions. Everyone always chose Thor instead of him. He never ended up with the girl so he never got the feeling of liking someone. He messes with you because at least your attention is on him, but he never knew just how bad he was affecting you.

What the hell are you going to do now?

x

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[aeliem]

@zucchiyeni's dtiys

design credits: dust by @safwunsies nightmare by @justanidiotartist horror by @westaysilly killer by @zucchiyeni

timelapse & ramblings under the cut

i tried to put this in the tags but it was way too long so here are my.... ramblings? design notes? process? watever it is it's here now

killer is the one i changed the least, even the pose is pretty much the same i kept the asymetrical design from the dtiys (w/ one sleeve rolled up & only one shoulder w/ spikes) for the shoes i kinda went watever & put the spikes in the middle (i bet you it caused some of the holes in his jeans) i like to think he chose blue soles bc he did a collab w/ nightmare so that he's not the only one w/ cool colors his main color is still red, but i made the leather, t-shirt, metal & jeans blue-ish as a complementary color

for nightmare, i don't even know if his design is canon, but when i saw that the murder time trio did collabs w/ him i knew i had to draw it i didn't touch the base design itself but i switched the colors around a lot bc i really didn't know how to make it work w/ the rest of the characters i kept the base palette (blue/cyan, purple & pink) but had purple as a main & cyan as an accent color (pink itself is only there in the glitter) also yeah i put the glitter on his coat instead of his tentacles cuz i wanted to show his bones & tentacles are made/covered in the same goopy stuff, and the glitter kinda went in the way of that i like that his colors are really different from the other & you can tell he goes solo while they're in a band, but i think it's not too distracting

horror is my favorite, like he's just enjoying himself in the back its kinda sad i had to hide him behing both his drums & killer, i might post a version w/out it to show it off the drums were a pain in the ass ngl, i've never played them so i had to look at a lot of references in the end i just drew a basic drum set w/ the colors on the ref (red & gold), i added silver for the metal bits bc it's everywhere in the other's designs his design itself is unchanged, i just thought having him in red only felt boring so i added orange to his fur & shirt

i realized too late i couldn't show dust's head w/ the pose i drew T-T also drew his entire outfit then had to hide half of it because of his guitare this is why planning is important people his guitare rocks tho (pun intended) i tried to make him red & purple to match his eyes, but currently it's more of an orange salmon color w/ a dark grey pink eeeh the intent is there i guess i made his gloves fingerless cuz you can't tell me this dude plays guitare w/ full on gloves like i know they're skeletons but that's physically impossible i also added a strap to his guitare cuz unless he's using blue magic, he probably can't keep it up w/ only his right hand

[hijinxinprogress]

Cissie’s always on the news but it’s never coverage about her performance during or after an Olympic competition, it’s always about what she’s been doing that the JL sends their protégés to interrogate her so often

So Cissie’s like in the Olympics right?? She most likely has a bunch of fans and paparazzi following her like there’s probably so many videos of Cissie just being grabbed in public by YJ

There’s a video of every time Bart has just scooped Cissie up and dipped spliced together 😭 like she’ll be in the middle of a sentence whether it’s to friends or on a live interview then you blink and she’s fucking gone “Bart istg!! I warned you the next time you messed up my hair…” “Will you still be mad at me if we stop by that restaurant you like in Thailand?” “…You’re so lucky rn”

Kon dropping down from the sky and winking at every camera as he picks Cissie up before flying away. It starts a rumor that they’re dating and Cissie just starts roasting him every time she gets asked about Superboy in an interview “that guy?? He’s still pining over his ex” “He’s cute ig but his cologne ruins it, it’s so terrible” “I can’t deal with the abandonment issues, talk about clingy…” and now there’s a bunch of people that think they’re bitter exes failing to rekindle their relationship esp bc Kon does the same thing when he’s asked about his relationship with the gold medalist Olympic archer Cissie King Jones “She’s always training so she never had time for me” “God, the temper on that one? I feared for my life when we lived together” “she’s so picky, oh my god” “she’s like incapable of being open with her emotions”

Cassie turns it into a game they either try to sneak up on Cissie while people are watching and “discretely” filming as Cassie jokingly shushes someone that’s trying to warn Cissie or does the “guess who it is” thing but they just pick Cissie up and fucking fly away while Cissie’s halfway through a sentence (Cassie thinks it’s hilarious and Cissie is not having it bc “I’ve watched you pick up sidewalks with your bare hands…get your hands off my face rn” “I wear gloves???” “Yeah and they’re fingerless you moron!”)

Tim does an elaborate disguise (he pretended to be a reporter at least twenty-seven times and Cissie hates it bc she still gets shit for accidentally maiming an actual reporter bc Tim would tranquillize her while disguised as a reporter and then grapple away) but now he just grabs her grapples away bc he tranquilized her for movie night once and she tried to murder him but sometimes they reenact dramatic scenes from whatever show/movie or anime they watched last while the rest of yj laughs

Anita just mind controls security and pretends to kidnap her or opens a portal under Cissie that drops her from like a foot in the air “Wanna see a magic trick?” “Get the hell away from me Anita” Cissie will complain every time she sees Anita bc she keeps purposely dropping her “why am I the ONLY person who fell and you portaled the entire team” “Idk maybe you just suck??” Anita has made Cissie do the robot during a live interview and it went viral also bc they’re nerds they reenact anime fights all the time. And somehow despite Anita being the fastest if Anita gets Cissie, they’re usually late bc they stop somewhere in the Caribbean to sit down in a restaurant and get food “You’re literally magic how tf are you late…?” “We definitely didn’t stop to get food” “There’s food HERE! It’s was your idEA!!”

Greta just makes Cissie look like she’s flying mid conversation (there’s a disembodied voice going on about how happy they are that Cissie wants to spend time with them in between laughter) and doesn’t show herself until they’re halfway to wherever their taking her “Cissie, you’re a meta??!” “No, it’s Secret” “ohhh, you want me to this keep a secret? Got it!” “Wait no, I’m not a-!” And Greta’s giggling the entire time but suddenly goes quiet when Cissie tries to get her to say hi and prove that Cissie’s not a meta

But Cissie’s civilian friends are so concerned bc they know her and what nefarious intentions do these costumed menaces have?? What are they going to do to Cissie?? So they start recording Cissie getting ‘kidnapped’ and end up catching the shit Cissie and YJ say to each other out of context:

“Ooh, that’s aioli! It is, I promise! It’ll come out with a little detergent istg” 

“I haven’t seen you in foreverrrrr” “I literally saw you last week” “that’s soo longggggg”

“We’re gonna have a long talk about your eating habits…!” “Yeah, okay, mom…Why don’t we have a long talk about your cologne? How do you have enhanced senses and still make awful olfactory choices…?”

“I’m gonna vomit…what the hell are you wearing?? Axe??” “Don’t even! you know damn well-”

“Don’t pretend you can flirt, you’ve been single since birth” “you’re a very angry person and you should see someone about that”

“Cissie babe, guess whooooo~?” “Get your hands off my fucking-!”

“If you stop screaming, I’ll buy you a milkshake!” “STOP KIDNAPPING ME IN THE MIDDLE OF INTERVIEWS!”

“Wdym?? I know it’s you I smell that nasty ass concoction…If you don’t take off that stupid ass disguise, you fuCKING-!!”

“If you tranq me one more fucking time, Robin, you’re getting an arrow in the ass!” “Is that really how you should talk to someone who’s saved your ass so many times?”

“Constantine, get better at fucking aiming!” “…Constantine?! I should drop you in a fucking volcano!”

“Oops…” “mf 😑 you did that shit on purpose” “What are you a lawyer?? Fucking prove it”

[Usually there’s an exasperated green lantern trying to do damage control and failing to chastise YJ “Nononono! Put the civilian down we talked about this! You need proof and evidence, this is an abduction!” “They know each other istg Ms. King Jones is fine, she’s perfectly safe” as the cameraman slowly turns the camera to Cissie free falling from 90ft in the air and screaming]

[silent-raven13]

When Hobie gets drunk

The Spider Band decided to go to one of Hobie's kickback parties. Well, it's one of his bandmate's kick back party, there's alcohol, weed, and other crazy stuff for the teenagers to have a good time. For once, the Spider Band had their day off taking the opportunity to be teenagers. The group put on their best punk outfit to fit into Hobie's world, just so they avoid looks.

Gwen grins widely having to wear plaided cargo pants with many zippers, an oversize shirt with a vest, and thick combat boots: Man, this is gonna be fucking exciting! -she shakes Pav with excitement. Finally, she gets to enjoy partying with her friends after weeks of being Spider-heroes-

Pav being dizzy from Gwen shaking him: Ahahaha, ye-yeah! I really want to do fun beer games! -He wore a much simpler outfit; a black tank top with ripped slashes around and skinny blue jeans with chains. The outfit works with rock boots.-

Margo smirks at Gwen: Hahaha, you're excited to get shitfaced, huh? -wearing a more Androgynous outfit; a long half skirt that is over black buckles black skinny ripped jeans, her tube top with fishnets and a thick belt slanted to the side of her wide hips. Her hair in thick locs with neon colors to stay true to her Spider Byte colors.-

Gwen blushes at Margo's smirk: Huh, ye-yeah! Come on, we finally got to enjoy ourselves. -the two noticed short knotted locs with red dye under their noses-

Spider Zeros: Yo! -she holds her Spiderling as she wore more a Gothic Punk style; a huge over size t-shirt with rip hems and certain parts with an asymmetrical collar stitched fish necks, one long fishnet glove from her arm to her hands, and a black fingerless glove on the other. She had thick big black buckled platform boots, with uneven stockings of black and red. Her makeup dark and dramatic with purple lipstick- What's good!

Pav: I keep forgetting how short you are!

Spider Zero: Excuse you! I am older than all of ya! -she huffs- Anyway, i heard there's free alcohol and join in! Where's Peni?

Gwen sighs: She's busy.

Spider Zero arched her eyebrows: Wow, so boring.

Margo: Hey, she's always working on her machines.

Miles spotted them: Hey guys! -Everyone stares at his outfit being surprised. Miles blushed being shy, his arm rub his other arm- Is is too much?

They squealed: Your so cute, Miles!

Gwen: OMG are you wearing a skirt!

Pav: Look at the lipstick!

Margo: Damn, Miles! I didn't know you like to dress up like that! -she giggles-

Spider Zero awed: Awe, you got to show off your tattoo!

Miles' cheeks felt super warm: Really? Thanks! I wanted to impress Hobie, since he's hardcore and... I'm just simple! -He went all out on his outfit: a red plaided half skirt with a cut to show the black one pants/short and tartan around his reavealing left thigh. His right leg being covered by the ripped one pant. He had on a shredded Hobie's band crop top and underneath the top is one layer of fishnets covering his his right arm to his tummy. The left arm with ripped up plaided sleeve purpose to cover only the forearm and hand. His revealing stomach had a heart shape buckle belt with studs and chains as decor. Then he had a black leather jacket from Hobie with patches and paint on it with words and slang around it. The same goes with his messily painted sunflowers on the sides on his Devil Games Mismatched combat boots. His face being covered with black lipsticks, and smokey red and black eyeshadow with white wing eyeliner. Put on a fake lip piercing, but had his earrings on.-

Gwen: Trust me, Hobie is gonna be so happy!

Hobie: OI! OI! Peter Pan! -the group heard their friend calling out for him. They turned their head toward the voice is coming from through the thick crowd of the underground warehouse party. They saw him walking so sloppy, so drunk!-

Miles gasps with a cute pout: Hobie, you got drunk before we got here!

Hobie finally noticed his boyfriend as he got closer. His vision was blurry as he pushed people out of his way, until his vision came clear when he saw his beaming Angel, his Sunflower: Miles? -he kinda slur his words-

Spider Zeros: A DOY! No shit Sherlock! -she rolled her eyes-

Hobie scowls: Eh, are you being a Xenophobic -his eyes at Zero-

Zero: No, it's an expression for no shit! -she grins- Anyway, I wanna get shitfaced! Right, Spiderling! -her spider happily nodded- Come on, let's drink!

Hobie look at his friends: Ya'll look freaking amazing -he turns to Miles- You look amazing, luv! -he holds his partner's cheek having to stare deep into his eyes like he was the only man in the party-

Miles smiles shyly feeling his cheeks warm again: Heh, thanks, bae.

Pav: Yeah, we should start partying! I finally got the chance to get wasted!

Hobie drunkily slouch on his Miles: The alcohol is that way -he use his thumb to point the area where all the alcohol is at- Come!

It wasn't long till the party went hard! Gwen challenging Hobie into shots. Margo cheering on Gwen while Pav cheer for Hobie. Zero drinks her beer watching with Miles. The young man had a red cup filled with alcohol, he took small sip. If he's honest, he hates alcohol. The taste is too bitter to him, he hates beer the most: Luv! Luv! Were you watching? -Hobie called for him-

Miles laughs: I am, bae! Wow, ten shots! That's crazy.

Hobie grins widely until Pav shouted: Holy Shit, Gwen! -She chugged a bottle of Vodka-

Margo cheers: Hahaha, I never knew you can hold your liquor, Gwen!

Gwen grins wildly being sluggish and slur her words: Ye-yeahh, I ams am'zing...

Miles laughs: Shit, she's gonna feel that in the morning.

Zero: Nah, she got white girl wasted, she can handle it!

Pav giggles having to get another round of shots ready: Miles! Come, join us!

Miles: Ohh, I dunno... I'm not that good with liquor!

Zero: Come on, man. Let's take a shot! -she nudges as her Spiderling slurps her cup with a straw as he rest on her shoulder-

Miles: Is he allowed to drink that?

Zero: Yeah, stop changing the subject.

Miles gave in: Alright. Hobie wanna take a hot with me.

Hobie already too drunk: YEAH! -being much hyper, more louder than his cool self- Let's do this! -The group got their shots to cheer and drink. Miles shudders at the vodka burning down his throat-

Miles: Ugh!

Hobie kisses his forehead being more clingy: It's alright, Brooklyn! You were great.

Gwen drunkly said: Ugh, ya two are always so lovey lovey! Makes me upset I got no one! -she slouches on Margo-

Margo: Whoa easy. Maybe you should take a little break.

Gwen pouts: Nuuhhh!

Margo: Yeeesss

Zero snorted: Oh brother...

Pav: Hehehe, will Ghostbyte happen?

Zero: A what?

Pav: Gwen is Ghost-spider and Margo is Spiderbyte. Ghostbyte.

Hobie chuckles still being drunk with his words: Wat's he talking' bout, darling? -he sat with Miles having his arms around his lover's shoulder-

Miles: Ship names! Pav, I let you watch one anime and now you're shipping everyone, man! -he chuckles-

Pav: Oh pfft, your just mad because I got to name Miguel and Peter, Spiderdads!

Zero: I like SpiderDaddies more.

Gwen hugs Margo being clingy: Ghostbyte!!! -Margo just laughs as she held Gwen to help her not fall-

Miles: And you couldn't find a name for you?

Pav snorted: Pfft me and Gayatri is easy! Pavitri! See! -he looks at Hobie and Miles- Hmm, I'll come up one for you two. It's hard since you got no specific Spiderman name.

Miles gasp: What? I have cool powers!

Zero: Hobie is easy. He's Punk Spiderman.

Hobie grunts: I don't call myself a punk, that's labeling me a-

Zero cut him off: Yeah, we get it. It's just that's how it is.

Pav: Hmmm, Hobie calls Miles, Sunflower- OH! PUNKFLOWER!

Margo listens: That's cute.

Zero nodded: Or Flowerpunk!

Gwen: I like -she burps as talks- that one! -still slouching on Margo-

Miles laughs: Okay, it's cute. Not gonna lie.

Hobie grunts: Who cares about labels, luv? It's not really us! You're my Sunflower! -he snuggle his partner- why should we care what others think of us?

Miles: I like it. -he chuckles- We got our secret ship names, bae.

Zero: Unless you're in Earth 1218, they already know your ships.

Pav: Oh, isn't that world where reality is soo real! Like their laws of nature is so powerful that their super-heroes don't exist- only through imagination! -He gasps with awe look on his face, and hands on his head-

Zero: Yeah! How did you know?

Hobie: This guy knows everything! He's always hearing the latest gossip at HQ!

Margo: And you can't tell him NOTHING! He's the first one to spread it!

Pav fake gasp: ME? How dare you!

Margo: It's true. You always instigating and being the first one to spread the word. Last time, I mention about Ben being in the pain in the ass and he quickly told everyone. Like, bro! -she laughs at Pam's expression-

Pav: To be fair, you also said to other Spiderpeople! -He laughs- Not my fault, Miguel got involved!

Zero: Man, that man is always up in everyone asses tho! He one time got mad because I didn't signed in or out.

Margo: But you go through multiverses?

Zero: I know!

Hobie: He's a control arse!

Gwen: Yeah, fuck Miguel! -being too drunk to care what she said-

Margo: Opp! I wouldn't say that.

Miles: Yeah, he's not all bad. He's like an old building that needs a clean up!

Pav: I see, FlowerFang happening! -Getting a dark glare from Hobie. Huh oh, jealous Hobie is back-

Zero: Ohhh, nice one!

Miles pouts: Nah, Pav. Now, you're being an instigator! I just think Miguel got some rough patches.

Margo: Before we continue this convo! Miles, I'm curious -she and Gwen sat down on chairs behind them. Gwen still cuddling against Margo- Like no offense, but- but would you?

Miles: Huh?

Pav laughs: And I'm the instigator, huh?

Margo: Oh hush!

Zero laughs: Now, we're getting to the juicy detail!

Hobie glares at them: Aye, are ya gonna disrespect me like this? In front of my face!

Margo hold her hands in defense: I'm just saying. Okay, let me be more honest. Would ya'll tap Miguel?

Everyone went silent except for Hobie with a scowl: No.

Margo grins: Why?

Hobie: Because he's a bloody bloke! A fucking pig within this whole society controlling all of us! What do you mean? Would you all do him! -his eyes widen in shock-

Zero: No! I'm Asexual and- that man got issues.

Margo: Paving is thinking pretty hard there, huh? Hey, you okay, bud?

Pav: What da fuck? I can't even think without you calling me out! -Zero laughs out loud-

Margo: It's like you're really thinking about it. Look, I'ma be honest. Miguel is a fine man... -she explains- We are not gonna sit here and lie about that, and he got some sweet cake. I mean, have you look at that man? -The group except for Hobie nodded with agreement. Hobie looks at Miles' who gave a slight nod-

Hobie: LUV!

Miles: What? I'm just agreeing that Miguel is handsome!

Pav: Look, I think I would if I wasn't in a serious relationship! -he spotted Zero about to say something to him- Considering- Considering we are all adults, so it should be fine! -he sips his drink-

Zero: So you would since your 18, now.

Pav: Ya! I mean, why not?

Margo: Lowkey, same. High key, only for a night stand, like have you seen that man's ass. Lord!

Zero: It's like two bouncing balls!

Pav: Gwen is all knocked out.

Gwen snoring in Margo's shoulders: Let her sleep. Anyway, Miles? Your opinion.

Miles: I'm in a relationship! I can't say that.

Hobie smirks: Yeah, he shouldn't think about it. -he slouch on his boyfriend-

Margo: Hypothetically speaking-

Hobie getting jealous: nah, fuck your hypo!

Zero and Pav laughs: He's mad mad, now!

Miles: Me and Hobie are in a great relationship! Why would I wanna think about another man?

Zero: Sheesh, loyal man.

Margo: But like imagine tho.

Hobie: Margo, your being a Pav!

Pav: Me! No, what da hell did I do?

Margo laughs: Relax, Hobs!

Hobie scowls having to go to his Miles: You know, I love you, right!

Miles blink surprised: Huh? Hobie, where-

Hobie got in front of his partner with his hands cupping his lover: I told you before I love you! I love you, mate! -his drunk self getting emotional-

Miles: I love you, too-

Zero: Wow, and three years strong!

Hobie being clingy to Miles: I love you, Sunflower! You know, that! I would fucking become a villain if you leave me or if anything happen to you! I'll fucking kill anyone who hurts you! I would be nothing without you, Miles! -kissing him on the lips and cheek-

Miles: Hobie, Hobie! Baby, you're drunk. Calm down!

Hobie: I love you, you're my baby! -he holds Miles in his arms- This is man is mine!

Miles never knew how clingy his boyfriend could get, even how easily tick off: Baby, I love you, too! -he hugs him back-

Hobie: I love you, MILES! You're my SUNFLOWER! -His arms wrapped around his Miles as they cuddle on the couch. Everyone laughs while Miles tries to calm his boyfriend down-

[embarrassinglastwords]

i write fanfic every now and then but it’s always 1 ch and in universe BUT i was watching tv and this couple made me think…

WEDDING/PARTY PLANNER ATSUSHI AND PIANIST AKUTAGAWA

like i don’t have anything fully formed to write so i’m gonna ramble here-

akutagawa’s vampire-y look while he sits and plays elegant music that’s hauntingly beautiful. playing cause it’s his passion and becoming popular in the wedding world as well just some formal parties.

one wedding he gets hired for he’s setting up to play for the reception cause the couple had a specific song they wanted for the isle walk and notices a man with white hair, bangs that rival his own, standing to the side checking around the room with a clip board in hand. he’s dressed in a nice suit with fingerless gloves on and a normal tie compared to the room of bow ties. he doesn’t look like someone who’d give orders or be bossy like a wedding planner would have to be but to be fair most people are taken aback when he says he plays piano.

he finds this man so attractive and keeps glancing over at him which is just great because at some point they make eye contact and the white haired man begins to walk over to him. they talk about akutagawa’s cue to start playing, how long he should play, what specifically he’s gonna play etc etc. akutagawa was wrong he’s definitely in charge. he likes that but he pushes that thought down

during the wedding atsushi finds himself enthralled by the pianist. he looks so majestic and so perfect. like he was made to play piano. he thinks about how the man in an older styled suit at such a nice piano looks plucked right out of an old painting. he thinks to himself the man must be good with his hands but let’s not dwell on that rn he is at work

eventually there’s a moment for a break due to this being the time of night for loud music and dancing. they accidentally bump into each other and begin talking. they find out a good deal about each other in this time. akutagawa has a sister who’s also into music but she’s a guitarist for her band, atsushi has a little sister that he takes care of, they’re both young in their mid 20s but worked their ways up in their fields. both make a decent amount doing what they do.

they exchange numbers at the end of the night. i’m imaging like the couple has left, atsushi is making sure caterers are paid and rented items are set to go back where they’re from etc. akutagawa is collecting his sheet music and is just really taking his time with it because he has nothing but paper to take home but he needs an excuse to talk to the cute wedding planner again.

yadda yadda they keep recommending each other to people. everytime atsushi gets hired he immediately goes “i know a great pianist if you’re interested!” they work a few more weddings/gatherings together and get closer.

of course i’d want them to eventually work the same formal gathering so they could see each other dressed nicely and that’s the night where the first kiss. they go home to their friends (haven’t decided who yet) and they’re literally that “let’s fucking goooo / okay so you just kissed…” meme

WOW THIS IS SO MUCH LONGER THAN I INTENDED😭 i will probably never write this cause as stated before i only ever write like short one chapter things so enjoy this

[lenreli]

Day 12 - Model AU [Human AU]

[AO3] Continuation of Pine, aka model Hob!

-

“You’re not like the other models I work on,” Dream says, lips loose from the few shots he’s had, and Hob, in normal clothes ― only a shirt and jeans, not in the ‘fancy menswear’ that Dream had looked up, and furtively jerked off too at seeing Hob so cleaned up, in fitted suits and rakish smirks. And not the recent one today, which had Hob in more biker than punk, many silver ear cuffs and fingerless leather gloves which Dream did not pointedly think about as he puts on only a minimal amount of makeup, Hob’s stare intense ― 

Hob laughs, pulling him out of his thoughts, still looking devastating, “too nice?” Hob asks, grinning brightly, “I can be a bastard, just not to those working,” Hob knocks his shoulder.

“I find that hard to believe,” Dream mutters, fingers fidgeting as Hob chuckles again, leaning against him, a warm length along his side.

“Do you want to find out?” Hob asks, eyebrows rising with a teasing look ― and surely the implication isn’t there, but he finds it hard to refute when Hob grabs his wrist, a finger pressing into his jumping pulse. Hob’s brows rise even more, and Dream nods as he’s pulled along until they end up in a relatively dark spot of the club, and Dream touches Hob’s beard as he’s pushed gently to the wall.

“Well?” He says, breathless as Hob’s gaze flicks over him, the hunger almost tangible. Hob’s mouth, his breath is near his, and they share a tiny kiss ― then a longer one, and Dream moans as he puts his hands into Hob’s hair, soft to the touch.

Hob’s body against his is searing, and Dream whines as the kiss deepens, getting dirtier and messier as one of Hob’s hands goes up his chest, the other gripping his neck. The kiss ends with a gasp, and sound rushes back to Dream’s ears as Hob nibbles at his jaw, going up to the shell of his ear, and Dream can only whine at the hot breath. “At work today, with you putting all that on me,” Hob says, voice low and deep as the hand on his chest goes lower.

Dream shudders, closing his eyes as he grips onto Hob’s shoulders.

“Could only think about how pretty you are, with all your pretty eyeliner and those lips,” Hob hums, a calloused hand reaching into Dream’s jeans, and Dream arches into it blindly, “kept thinking about fucking you over that counter, destroying all that expensive makeup as you beg for it.” 

Gasping, Dream pants, hiding his burning face in Hob’s hair, the images Hob eliciting making his cock ache, not helped by Hob’s hand, slow and sure and steady― 

“And everyone else could only listen, since I am the model, probably jealous that I’m fucking you instead of them, as I try to my best to make that eyeliner run, hand in your hair to force to look at yourself in that mirror,” Hob says, and Dream ― shudders, cock twitching desperately in Hob’s hand. 

“Hob,” he cries out, friction and pleasure constant, so constant that it’s maddening, never reaching the peak. 

“Make you a mess, blubbering and needy, probably shaking after I’m done with you, but still having to fix up my makeup after so I can get back to work,” Hob muses, hand on Dream’s cock still ― the same ― and then Hob’s hand, his body is gone, and Dream shivers at the lack of warmth, leaning against the wall heavily as he gasps for breath. “I’ll see you later, Dream,” Hob says with a wink, leaning in to peck his lips, and Dream reaches for him with no luck. “Big day at work tomorrow,” Hob says, smiling at him as he leaves. 

Dream slides down the wall, dick aching as he touches his lips.

[bloopblopbeepbop]

Ima say my head canons for the Vat7k people. Why because I want to.

The first person Hugo.

Goes by- Hugo

Full original name- Helenor Hugo Rottewage

Full new name- Hugo Helenor Rottewage

Age- 19

Pronouns- Trans - f to m, then gender fluid(she, he, they)

Sexuality- pansexual

Family- Donella-mom, Cyrus- uncle, Stalyan/Caine- older sisters, Kira/Catilana- younger sisters, Nuru- self proclaimed sister, Yong- son, Varian- best friend to boyfriend, Rapunzel- later claimed Hugo as her sibling, Olivia- partner in crime and pet.

Bit of background- was in a orphanage with Lance and Eugene and they were a group then did crime together then things happened( piano incident ), later met the snuggling duckling crew and then had to leave, kira and catilana found them wounded then helped then hugo taught them crime, worked with Stalyan and Caine doing hiest. Met many others like Andrew, who tried to kill him at one point.

Head canons

• has the most trauma

• Only one with a middle name.

• Can't swim ( has almost drowned many many times ( Don had tried so hard to teach her ( failed miserably after they almost drowned)))

• masked emotions

• Ruddiger one time put truth serum and personality switch position into her drink once.

• Made Olivia at the age of 10

• Has almost died more times than he has been alive, she brushes it off like nothing.

• Favorite color is green

• almost lost his arm during the trials, only after did she lose her arm the same way they almost lost it to. Falling off a cliff then catching themselves on a branch with there right arm.

• Head librarian and second head Royal Engineer

• got top surgery at the age of 13 because Don said it would be better to wait till their older to do it.

• Has more scars the Eugene and Lance combined( so a lot). To hide scars they wear long sleeves, pants, and fingerless gloves.

• his Goggles are prescription so she doesn't need to wear goggles over their glasses

• Made Eugene read the Flynn Rider book to him very often.

• Always wanted to go by Hugo instead of Helenor. Told this to Eugene and Lance once and they started calling him Hugo.

• birthday curse started at the age of 5 ended at the age of 20 ( the group made it to the eternal library and everything went down(betrayal/possession))

• Hugo and Eugene only didn't get along at first because of the past. Forced to talk it out. (Worked)

• Got the nickname thing from Eugene

• during the trials they were the only person who knew how to do, style, and cut hair. ( he did so many haircuts for them.)

• made robots like Olivia for Kira, Catilana, and Yong ( she made there favorite animal)(also they were Christmas gifts)

• Tied with Nuru for best fashion knowledge.

• Wanted in all 7 kingdom but all 7 wanted posters are different. All have a different name. ( 1. Hugo the human 2. The Emerald theif 3. Duke of theives 4. Betrayer of theives 5. The shadow bandit 6. Rottewage 7. The hooded theif)

• During the trials he was the best for medical.

Welp thats how I head canon Hugo. (1/7)

[zhongrin]

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ꜱʜᴇᴇᴛ: ᴏᴄ

꧁𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨

ʙᴀꜱᴇ ᴘʀᴏꜰɪʟᴇ ⟡ ɪɴ-ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ① ⟡ ɪɴ-ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ②

Alias: Jackie / Cov

Pronouns: They / them

Birthday: 30th January

Age & Nationality: 2█, Snezhnayan

Affiliation: Fatui / operative under 11th Harbinger ("Tartaglia")

Vision: Cryo (Snezhnayan casing)

Delusion: Pyro

Constellation: Glacies Ardeat

Weapon: Sword (proficient) / Dagger (proficient) / Pistol (learning) / Polearm (learning)

Associated color(s): Blue

Family (biological): Mother (deceased), Twin younger brother (deceased)

Family (informally adopted): Meirin, Zhongli

Appearance (Key Points):

Short, wavy dark brown hair. Long bangs covering left eye. Longer side strands on the right side.

Slanted, dark blue eyes.

Freckles under their eyes & across their cheeks. Sometimes covered by makeup.

Earring on left ear, choker, and bird-like mask on the left side of their head.

Wears fingerless gloves.

Black coat and green sweater (usually not worn unless the weather is particularly cold, or if it's a formal occasion), high neck and sleeveless dark grey bodysuit. Dark grey pants.

Personality & temperaments:

Usually very polite and stoic to strangers; comes off as cold and detached on the surface.

Once you get to know them more or push them enough, you'll realize that they could be quite snarky or blunt.

It takes a long time for them to trust someone due to their past.

Likes animals, but is able to separate between appreciating them as a companion and prioritizing them as necessity (i.e. have killed and will kill them for survival if necessary). The same goes for human beings.

Once they decide on doing something, they're the type who commits to it wholeheartedly. Anything is a means to an end.

Has a formal way of speaking and writing. Uses proper punctuations. Doesn't shorten words or use emojis.

Can't rizz to save their life. Could be dense. Not good with romance. But occasionally might do things that make your heart skip a beat without realizing.

Story Quests:

Act I: Trickery of Light and Shadows

Act II: Candour of Light and Shadows

Tags: #rin's adopted children: coviello, #coviello answers

Character reference sheet: Proper reference sheet WIP

Gallery:

Creator notes:

I don't mind if you ship them with yourself or your OC(s) in any kind of setting (platonic, familial, romantic ー within ethical boundaries, ofc). Please be respectful of other people who does the same! I will not tolerate gatekeeping or stealing.

Fanarts / Fanfics / Fancreations are allowed, but not for commercial purposes.

They're always available to talk to! If they're not in the teahouse, your messages will be sent as a letter, so don't hesitate to drop by!

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Thinking about nearly completely feral, Nomad Steve Rogers and soft, Wankandan Bucky Barnes sleeping next to each other.

Although, this time I'm thinking about Steve coming home to Bucky; home is Bucky and right now Bucky is in Wakanda. So that is where he goes.

Steve comes home to a hut that he can slip into soundlessly--carefully pushing aside the cloth Bucky has hanging in the entry way as a soft, easy barrier. Here--surrounded by native flora and fauna as well as other goatherders and their flocks--it's safe enough that he doesn't need a door, let alone a lock.

At first, without a greeting and without being able to spot Bucky out and about feeding, milking, or sweet talking his goats, entertaining the nearby kids, or even chopping or gathering firewood, Steve figures Bucky must be in the city. Maybe visiting Shuri and the King. Maybe enjoying local sights. However, upon entering Bucky's small, cozy hut, Steve picks up that that is not the case. Bucky isn't gone. Not at all. He's here. Sleeping softly. His face and body untense, spending some time in a light, airy unconscious space of mind.

As silently as possible, Steve sheds his torn, ripped, and his dirty shirt. He already removed his weathered jacket on the quinjet, the heat and humidity turning up when they were still two hours out from Wakanda. However, at the same time he gets out of his shirt, Steve thinks what the hell, my pants are stained too with mud crusted into them, so he might as well take them off too.

He sheds them all.

He sheds his shield too, it's not the one he broke fighting Thanos, taking the power of the snap with everyone's hands helping, one hand on his shoulder, a hand on that persons shoulder and so on: a chain of defense. But its also not the shield Sam has. Sam's is circular and classic, he is captain america now after all. Steve is just... avenging? He smirks to himself, taking in his ruined civilian clothes clashing with his shield. He doesn't wear a uniform these days. His shield, unlike Sam's, is more like the one Peggy shot at a lifetime ago. Sliver. Plain. This one is not new. It is riddled with scratches and dings and dents--well used and a little aged... just like Steve feels. Though, Steve still shudders with an icicle of fear tracing down his bare spine. He will always remember the heart-racing fear of being shot without knowing what he really was capable of- capable of surviving.

Steve shakes his head. He sighs. Quietly. He still is doing everything he can to not wake Bucky.

Bucky continues to lay peacefully in his nest of blankets and pillows, huddled in the corner of the hut. Sleeping. His chest rises and falls. Evenly. His arm is wrapped around his own waist, hugging himself as he rests.

Steve could use some rest too. His back and legs are sore from riding his motorcycle before he hopped onto the quinjet--the bike was built with his own hands from the ground up; satisfying when he did it orginally but now inarguably ancient and uncomfortable with all the vintage, mish-mashed parts he's used for it. Not that he change it if he could though, it's got history, so much that Steve can feel it in his palms, through his roughened, fingerless gloves as he rides, purring between his legs...

Off his bike, off the roaring jet, standing in silence, Steve's ears ring. It'll go down soon enough, once his healing factor kicks in. Just like soon enough his shot voice won't rasp and won't be useless at talking or even whispering. He's spent too long bouncing only between being by himself, not needing to speak, and yelling while fighting the good fight--tearing into people who deserve it. He can't be thinking about those people though. No. Not here in this cozy space with the smells of spices and wood smoke from home-cooking melding together in a strangely nostalgic way even though it's not a smell from Steve's past.

Here and now, safe and sound, Steve can recognize how much he smells-

He smells like he hasn't bathed (he hasn't, there had been no opportunities recently) but also like gasoline and wind. It's the scent of tearing through cities, mountains, and coastal highways, on the prowl, alone with his thoughts and his single minded mission...

He is not alone.

Bucky yawns, huge and endearing. Steve's hearing picks up the sound of his jaw cracking as he wakes. Bucky sits up slowly, drowsily.

There are no words are exchanged between them. They don't need them.

They haven't seen each other for long enough that Bucky probably should have a reaction to all of Steve's bare skin--an unconcious siren call of want. But, Bucky isn't drawn into it's melody this evening. He can read the exhaustion tugging at his bones. It calls to him more than his lust as he stirs, hearing Steve shuffle about. Sensing him as if they're bonded. Ha.

Still, there are no words are exchanged between them. They still don't need them. And yet, Steve's head ends up in Bucky's lap like they planned it. His too long, blonde hair falling over his face. His unthrimmed beard scratchy against Bucky's thigh where the fabric of his tunic has ridden up in his sleep.

Studying him, looking down, Bucky finds a linear scab--a healing scratch through his eyebrow and one over the bridge of his handsome nose. The gash is already healing. There is no reason to fret. There is nothing to do but wait. Yellow, brown, and purplish hues hide just under Steve's skin in the pattern unfolding petals.

Bruises.

Bucky traces them with all of the gentleness he possesses and some he doesn't. Watching his lover with patient, knowing eyes, Bucky finds himself wishing he had two hands once again just so he could touch more of the other man a once. Feel more of him. Know he's alive and safe.

In the silent but communicative air, Steve catches Bucky's hand with his own. Hair shadows his forearm and the back of his hand now that he's not maintaining that pristine image. Steve, himself and nothing more, tugs Bucky's hand to his lips.

He kisses his palm just as his lashes flutter closed. Sleep calling to him. He knows Bucky will be there when he wakes up.

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

my horrible horrible Batman/bruce Wayne headcannons

He’s half Sicilian and half Jewish. I will take this to my actual grave/srs

the real reason he can walk away and fight people with broken bones and while bleeding out is because he has an undiagnosed pain disorder. Like the one where you can’t feel pain at all. And has never realized it ever, and the batfam are completely oblivious too. Thomas Wayne (his dad) had it and never noticed either.

he sings songs to his kids, but really really bad covers. On purpose. He also has a secret YouTube music channel called “bats in the belfry” where he uploads his good guitar/vocal covers. He accidentally goes viral, and juggles a triple life as a semi-famous songwriter and singer. No one knows it’s him though, not even the league.

Thomas gave bruce all his old medical texts, and used to teach him first aid when he was little. little bruce loved it so much.

bruce actually has his doctorate in chemistry, engineering, medicine, biology, botany, and he took some random courses about the bats of Gotham and then studied veterinary medicine.

he proudly displays his many doctorates he earned in the same 3 years, in the library where no one see them.

his best friend forever is Harvey dent, even though Harvey and Harv are twoface. he does not care and randomly rocks up to his house with some good brandy, and invites them to his house always and forever.

bruce is actually a good dad, he's just also oblivious and accidentally hurts his kids feelings.

he actually hates being called bruce, and considers it his deadname. he actually one time when he was poisoned got out the name change forms filled them out with the name Bat Bruce Wayne and got his name changed and then he started feeling better after being poisoned he realised that he changed his legal name to Bat Wayne and he could not change it back. he tries to lie about it but he still has to sign forms with his legal name, no one has figured it out yet. everyone just assumes Bat Wayne is like his 9th kid or something.

bruce despite being rich as balls actually hates being rich with a passion, and literally throws his money at anything he can. when he was younger he tried desperately to get rid of all his money via charities, investing in local Gotham shops and chains, and literally paying for any health or medical care thing he could. sadly that only made the entire city of Gotham love him, and sadly he just got 30x the money he put in. and he still doesn't know how. it basically turned into a one upping where bruce tried everything he could to get rid of his money but all that happened was people started to love and adore Wayne tech and Wayne industries, and bruce Wayne's constant stream of donations to literally every single charity he could shove money in their hands. it backfired horribly and now he has a LEGION of international Bruce Wayne fans who literally give him money. he hates every single moment.

he has a weird thing going on with joker, they made out a couple times and they both refuse to ever bring it up. (bruce would have killed him if he didn't kinda have the hots for him and thought he couldn't be redeemed.)

he singlehandedly is keeping all of Gothams diverse bat species alive and well, he also has like 1,000s of pet bats in the batcave.

his favourite colour is actually yellow, but he just likes that black is stealthy.

he actually has tons and tons of scars, and no one really knows because bruce always wears fingerless gloves and long sleeves. they just think it's a fashion statement, bruce just likes covering up his scars.

he started a conspiracy that batman was actually not real and just a cryptid, he leans even more into it as Bruce Wayne.

he picks up all his kids and spins them around at random, because he loves keeping them on their feet.

he's low-key on and off dating both Catwoman and Harvey, while having work husband Clark Kent be his teammate.

the media completely forgets bruce literally has multiple doctorates some times. and when he publishes any work he does everyone is like "oh look it's Bruce Wayne, not THE Bruce Wayne of Wayne tech. science Bruce Wayne of the same name. because the playboy billionaire doesn't publish in scientific journals" and then one time he was invited to give a lecture on poison ivy's plants and the critically endangered Gotham wild rose of which there is only one left and of which he is currently keeping safe in his plant house. anyway everyone was fucking shocked and bruce put on his serious scholarly tone and started talking. while in a yellow Gotham U jumper with coffee stains on it while looking like he was in a car crashes aftermath only moments earlier. (he just forgot to set his bones again.)

bruce has autism and OCD. his special interest is gray ghost, and he fucking hates bright lights. (sun glasses indoors kinda guy)

bruce keeps like 50 photos of his kids in his wallet, 1: because it's funny 2: because he does not bring a phone with him anywhere.

and lastly, when he was doing his tour around the world to learn all types of fighting and escapism. he also learned he was horrible at cooking, just downright destructive.

[sparrowsortadrawzzz]

my take on Reverse!Omens :D

okay so before i share anything, I'd just like to say that it was my friend @leoontheair's idea to make the entire universe swapped instead of just the two! so thank you for working on this with me and letting me bounce ideas off of ya! ^^

so in the beginning, everything is the same, uNTIL the rebellion part- so in this universe, Lucifer actually won, so God is just kinda in Hell seething- so all the angels kicked God and Her supporters out. Aziraphale was a moth angel who attempted to defend God, anddd..yeah, he fell, taking the name Azarien. but, he still has a lilll bit of angel in him (cuz he just like. rejects the fact he's a demon shgjdj i mean whatever works-!) A: his eyes never change, so he made them look that way around demons, but eventually just started wraring contacts when they were invented, and B: whenever he gets stressed tF OUT, he tends to chew on the knuckles of his fingerless gloves, and two lil strands of his hair stick up like moth antenna! :D he also has shiny blue/black eyes, oooh, aaah ✨️

he wears paisley ("Paisley is stylish >:(") and thinks he looks quite dapper in his little moth bowtie! he also owns a crystal shop, with crystals in the front and forbidden tomes and cursed artifacts in the back (including all the same forbidden bibles from the original book/show, just...rewritten-), much like a cursed/haunted museum. (calls Barry "Bare" and "Deary")

I LOVE HIM DEARLY. PROTECT.

now, Crowley on the other hand, is the archangel Baraqiel, Archangel of lightning and iii think stars? I'll look that up again* I just can't remember rn ajghshg anygays, he goes by Barry A. ("it's just an A, really" but..it isn't- it actually stands for Asterope, which is greek for "starry-faced" and "lightning") Raquel! they're an axolotl angel, and the actual fins appear in his hair when he is stressed as well. his eyes shine a burst of gold weaved through brown irises, and black scelera, so he wears orange-brown tinted glasses. they're still our stimmy adhd-filled star boy(gn), just tired from everyone's bullshit...and bro would absolutely say "bUt i DoN't wAnNaaAa-!" if one more nerve is plucked-

he wears a crystal tree of life necklace that Azarien gifted him, and wears a bit of a refined grunge, neutral-toned indie style. I have yet to draw out an outfit that I love on them, but until then here's the sketches he has so far!

he drives a yellow original Volkswagen Beetle with black trim that turns everything into ABBA (it still has the James Bond window transfers)

(they call Azarian Zari, fiend[former], my friend[former], and darling ajfhd) and let's just say finding out Azarien's eyes were normal crystal clear blue-into-green was...a bit of a conversation-

more to come!!