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spearsillustration · 21 days ago

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°[Making Time For The Small Things]°

- Primis Crew With An Artist/painter Reader -

Note: This is just a cute Idea I've had for a few days. I've currently started painting again after a while. I've had trouble making the time to sit down and finish a piece. And while I was working I came up with a cute idea with the Primis crew. (oh, and I'm using a painting I recently finished as a reference for this story.)

Word count: 4,302

Page number: 12.5

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After an exhausting and grueling day, filled with the relentless chaos of fighting and killing, we finally managed to carve out a small pocket of time to rest and breathe. The air still felt thick with tension, and the adrenaline had yet to fully leave our bodies. Every muscle screamed for release, but the surroundings were so eerily quiet that it felt almost impossible to relax. The remnants of the battle lingered in our minds, haunting our every thought. It was almost too uncomfortable, too unnatural, to unwind in such an atmosphere. Despite the desperate need for rest, the weight of everything we'd just been through made it feel like we were too on edge to truly settle into peace.

I fidgeted with the zipper of my jacket, the fabric cool under my fingers, as we settled down by the fire. The warmth of the flames flickered in front of us, but the stillness in the air made it hard to fully relax. As I absentmindedly adjusted my jacket, my hand brushed against something in my pocket that I hadn't noticed before. I pulled it out, my fingers brushing over the five small tubes of paint, their lids glinting in the firelight. For a moment, I was confused, but then it hit me — I remembered exactly where I had found them.

They were tucked away in the corner of an old, abandoned house we’d passed through earlier. The place had been decaying, with dust thick in the air and the creaking of old wood beneath my feet. But amidst the forgotten rubble, I’d spotted the paint tubes, left behind by someone who’d clearly once had a passion for color. I had even managed to find a paintbrush, its bristles were a little frayed but still functional. The thought of it made me smile to myself.

A wave of excitement surged through me as I realized what this meant. I hadn’t expected to come across something like this, and the possibility of putting my hands to use creatively, even for just a little while, filled me with an unexpected sense of purpose. I eagerly reached into my bag, pulling out my journal. It was a little worn from travel, its pages well-used, but it still held the stories and moments I’d captured in sketches and notes. Flipping through the pages, I found a few incomplete drawings, half-finished thoughts from times when I’d managed to steal a quiet moment.

With a grin, I opened to a blank page and set the journal in my lap, ready to lose myself in this rare moment of creativity, even in the midst of all the chaos. The fire crackled beside me, and the world outside faded into the background.

I started with something simple, a few flowers. Just basic shapes with soft, curved petals. It was easy, almost instinctive, and it felt comforting to let my hand move freely across the page. The smooth strokes of the pencil came naturally, each line flowing with little effort. I hadn’t even thought about adding color yet; the sketch itself was enough for the moment. But even as I focused on the drawing, something in the air kept pulling my attention. There was this nagging feeling, a subtle weight in the back of my mind as if someone was watching me.

I glanced up briefly, trying to gauge the room, but no one seemed to be paying attention to me. Edward was deep in conversation with Nikolai, his voice low and serious, though I couldn’t make out their words over the crackling fire. Their exchange seemed intense as if they were discussing something important, but it didn’t distract me long. Dempsey, as usual, was doing his own thing, sitting with his back against a large rock, methodically taking apart his gun and cleaning it piece by piece. The rhythmic sound of the metal parts clicking together was oddly soothing, almost like a steady pulse in the background.

And then there was Takeo, sitting a little farther away from the group, his gaze distant and unfocused. His posture was stiff like he was lost in his thoughts, as if his mind had wandered far away from the warmth of the fire. His usual calm was there, but there was something deeper in his expression, something I couldn’t quite place. His silence was heavy, though he rarely spoke much to begin with.

Despite all this, the feeling that I was being watched lingered, tugging at my focus. It was strange, almost unsettling. I didn’t want to look up again and risk making it obvious that I noticed, so I kept my eyes down on the paper. Still, my mind kept drifting. I tried to shake off the feeling, focusing on the softness of the pencil in my hand, the way it moved across the page, but the suspicion didn’t quite fade. Maybe it was just the way the shadows from the fire flickered across the faces of my companions, or the quiet stillness of the night around us. But something told me I wasn’t alone in my thoughts, even if no one spoke a word.

When I was finally satisfied with the sketch, I paused for a moment to take it all in. My eyes scanned the lines of the flowers, the delicate curves of the petals, making sure everything was as I envisioned it. There was something deeply satisfying about the way the sketch had turned out, even if it was simple. I wasn’t trying to make anything too intricate; I just wanted to capture a small, quiet moment of beauty. I made a few final adjustments, a soft curve here, a sharper angle there, then looked at it once more, letting a small smile tug at the corners of my lips. It was, in its own way, perfect.

With a deep breath, I reached into my pocket again, pulling out the small tubes of paint. I didn’t have much to work with—only five colors. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough for what I had in mind. I set them down carefully on the ground beside me, looking at the colors in the soft glow of the firelight: white, maroon, dark green, yellow, and navy blue. It wasn’t a wide palette, but there was still plenty of potential here. I could work with this.

I picked up the maroon first, squeezing a small amount of it onto the makeshift palette I had set up, carefully using the edge of a broken stick as a mixing surface. I thought about how I would use the maroon and white together to create a gentle gradient, blending them to shade the flowers, turning them into a soft pink color. I imagined it—how they’d pop against the dark blue background, the petals delicate and inviting, with just the right amount of depth.

The green and yellow were next. I figured the green would work for the stems and leaves, a subtle contrast to the vibrant blooms I was planning. The yellow would add a hint of brightness, maybe for the centers of the flowers, a little burst of warmth.

Then there was the navy blue. That would be for the background—rich and deep, the perfect backdrop to make the flowers stand out, almost like they were glowing in the dim light. I could already picture how it would all come together in my mind, a beautiful, simple piece of art that felt like a moment of peace I could carry with me.

But as I prepared to dip the brush into the maroon, the thought crossed my mind: What if I didn’t get to finish it? It was a fleeting thought, but the reality of our situation was always present. Who knew how much time I’d have before we had to pack up and move again, or worse when we’d have to fight our way out of another situation? The chaos of our world was always lurking just around the corner, ready to disrupt anything that felt even remotely normal.

Still, I didn’t let that stop me. I took the brush in hand, dipped it carefully into the maroon, and began to paint the first flower, one slow stroke at a time. If I didn’t get to finish it, at least I would have this—this small, fleeting piece of beauty—captured in the moment. And for now, that was enough.

My attention was entirely on the small canvas in front of me—the way the maroon paint swirled into the soft pink of the petals, the quiet rhythm of the brush against the paper. The crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of the others didn’t break my concentration. I had created this little world of color and shape, one that felt far removed from the tension and chaos of everything else.

It wasn’t until I felt the weight of someone’s gaze that I realized something had shifted. A soft presence beside me. Before I could even turn to see who it was, I jumped slightly in surprise.

There, standing next to me, was Takeo. I hadn’t heard him approach. He was so quiet, as usual, that his movement seemed almost imperceptible. But there he was, right next to me, his gaze fixed intently on the flowers I was painting. His eyes traced every stroke, every detail as if studying the way the colors blended together. His usual stoic expression was softened just enough for me to catch a glimpse of quiet curiosity.

I felt a slight flush creep up my neck, an unfamiliar sense of being watched in a way that felt different from before. Takeo had always been a man of few words, but his presence was always felt, whether he spoke or not. Now, with him standing just over my shoulder, the silence between us seemed even heavier.

For a moment, I froze, unsure of what to do. I didn’t mind him looking—though I wasn’t exactly used to it—but there was something about how still and unspoken he was that made me feel self-conscious.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some composure, but my hand remained steady, even if my mind was suddenly a little scattered. "You like it?" I asked, glancing up at him as I dabbed more paint onto the page.

He didn’t immediately respond, his eyes were still focused on the flowers, studying them with a quiet intensity. I could see the faintest hint of approval in the way his eyes softened, though he didn’t say a word. Takeo was never one to offer praise or even much of an opinion. His silence was often his way of communicating more than words could express.

Still, the fact that he had come so close to observing my work felt like a compliment in its own way. I wasn’t sure if he fully understood the significance of the act—painting, for me, was a rare escape, a brief respite from the constant noise of everything around us. But maybe, just maybe, in that moment, he saw that too.

I continued to paint, but the presence of him beside me made everything feel a little different, a little more significant. I wasn’t alone in this small moment of peace anymore. It wasn’t much, but for a brief instant, it felt like something shared.

Takeo didn’t say a word. He simply sat down beside me, settling into the dirt with a quiet ease that made his presence all the more noticeable. He leaned slightly forward, his attention entirely on my work, and there was something almost serene about the way he watched. It was as if he wasn’t just observing the act of painting, but something deeper—something that I wasn’t sure I fully understood. But there was no pressure, no expectation. He was content, and that quiet companionship was enough.

I thought about it for a moment—how rare it was for someone to just sit with you without saying anything, without the need to fill the silence with words. I’d become so accustomed to the noise and chaos that I had forgotten how peaceful such quiet moments could be. He wasn’t in a rush to talk, to move, to break the stillness. He just… sat there. Watching. And who was I to take that away from him? In a way, it felt like an unspoken bond between us, a shared moment of calm in the midst of everything else. So, I did nothing to disturb it.

I dipped my brush back into the paint, carefully blending the shades, lost in the process. Every so often, I would clean the brush off on my pants. My hands and thigh of my pants were stained with the pigment, but it didn’t matter. I was focused on the small, steady rhythm of my work. The fire flickered beside us, its warmth creeping into the air around us, but the world felt far away.

Time seemed to pass differently when I wasn’t thinking about it when you're absorbed in something as simple as painting. Though not long after, I felt a shift in the air—the unmistakable sound of someone shifting position, stretching, and standing up. I glanced to my left and saw Dempsey, finishing whatever he had been doing with his gun. He wiped his hands on his pants before stretching his arms over his head, letting out a low grunt. His eyes found Takeo, and a knowing smile crept across his face.

It didn’t take long for Dempsey to notice that Takeo, who normally kept to himself, had moved over to sit next to me. The curiosity was evident in his eyes, and he stood up with a stretch, walking over to where we were sitting. He didn’t say anything immediately, just stood there for a moment, looking down at the journal I had opened in my lap. His eyes flicked over the sketch and the small paint strokes, and for a moment, I felt like I was being scrutinized.

Dempsey wasn’t the type to keep quiet for long, and I half expected him to make a sarcastic comment or crack a joke, but he surprised me. His voice was casual, but there was an unmistakable interest in it. “Looks good,” he said, peering down at the flowers, then glancing at Takeo, who remained silent. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

I nodded, a little smile playing at the corner of my lips. “Thanks,” I muttered, my voice soft, not wanting to break the fragile peace that had settled around us.

After a while of pacing back and forth, Dempsey finally seemed to tire of the restless movement and plopped down beside me on my other side. Now, I found myself with not one, but two people watching me closely. The weight of their gazes from both sides was a little unnerving, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the work I had been so focused on was somehow suddenly inadequate. I glanced down at the flowers I had painted so far, and, of course, they looked just fine. But with Dempsey’s broad shoulders to my right and Takeo’s quiet presence to my left, I felt a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

It was strange. When I was by myself, painting felt like an escape, a way to express myself without the pressure of anyone else’s judgment. But now, with them both observing, even if they didn’t say a word, my confidence faltered. I always felt like my art didn’t look as good when I was being watched. Every brushstroke seemed less certain, every line less sure, and I had the urge to erase everything and start again—though I knew that wouldn’t really fix anything.

The fire crackled beside us, but its warmth didn’t seem to ease the tension in my shoulders. I dipped my brush into the navy blue, trying to focus on the background. Just concentrate, I told myself. Ignore them. Keep painting. But every time I lifted my hand to apply the next stroke, I could feel their eyes on me, making me second-guess every decision.

It wasn’t long before the other two—Edward and Nikolai—noticed the small gathering we had formed. I could see them from the corner of my eye, standing together by the fire, talking in low voices. They paused, exchanging a glance, then walked over in our direction. Their footsteps were soft on the ground, the crunch of dirt and gravel barely audible over the fire’s crackling.

Edward was the first to break the silence, his tone light and teasing. “What’s this? A little art club forming over here?” he asked with a small chuckle, his gaze shifting between the three of us. There was a playful curiosity in his voice, but it was clear that he wasn’t expecting to see such a peaceful gathering in the middle of everything else. Nikolai stood beside him, leaning against a rock, his arms crossed, an amused smirk on his face.

I didn’t say anything at first. I was still too focused on trying to ignore the tension that had crept into my chest. But I couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious now, with them both standing there, observing us. “Just… painting,” I murmured, my voice quieter than usual, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the anxiety or just the weight of the moment.

Dempsey nudged me with his elbow, his tone still casual. “Not bad, huh?” He grinned, obviously not bothered by the extra eyes on the work, while Takeo remained silent, still lost in his own thoughts, but his eyes never strayed far from the painting.

I felt a slight heat rise to my cheeks. “It’s nothing special,” I said quickly, trying to brush off the attention. But as I glanced at the work again, I realized it had come together better than I had anticipated. The flowers, though simple, had a certain warmth to them, and the background of the deep navy was starting to make the colors pop in a way that made it feel more alive. Still, with all four of them gathered around me now, I couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability, of being exposed.

Nikolai raised an eyebrow, a smirk still playing on his lips. “It looks like more than ‘nothing special’ to me,” he remarked, looking down at the page with genuine interest. “You sure you didn’t take some extra time while we weren’t looking?” His tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of approval there, and it made me feel a little better.

Edward, who had been watching me with his usual amused expression, took a step closer. “You’ve got some talent,” he said, his voice sincere despite the playful edge. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s just a hobby,” I muttered, though I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to downplay it. Maybe I just didn’t want anyone to make a bigger deal out of it than it was.

The moment was oddly still, the fire crackling softly in the background, the weight of the night settling around us. Even with them all standing there, watching me, something about the simple act of painting still gave me a sense of peace, a small respite from the madness of everything else. I could feel the tension easing off my shoulders just a little bit, despite the nagging anxiety that tried to cling to the edges of my mind.

"Thanks, guys," I said with a soft, easing breath, feeling the tension in my chest start to loosen as I looked up at them. "I didn’t think you all would be so interested. Well, maybe not most of you," I added with a light chuckle. "I’ve seen Richtofen sketch from time to time."

The words felt a little awkward coming out, but they were true. I hadn’t expected any of them to pay much attention to what I was doing, especially with everything else going on. We were constantly moving, constantly preparing for the next fight, the next threat. The idea of sitting down and quietly working on something like this in the middle of all that had felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford. Yet here they were, gathered around me, watching in silence, or in Dempsey’s case, offering casual comments. It was a strange feeling, having their attention focused on something so personal, something I rarely shared.

I glanced over at Dempsey, who had leaned back against a rock, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the moment in his own way. His usual gruff demeanor seemed softened like he was taking in the rarity of it all. Takeo, sat quietly at my side, still absorbed in the painting, his posture steady and calm. Even Nikolai, who was usually quick to crack jokes or make sarcastic comments, was silently watching with something like quiet approval in his eyes.

And then there was Richtofen. He had always been the odd one out in our group when it came to such things. The eccentric scientist seemed to have a constant need to document everything around him, often sketching or writing down observations, whether it was related to the madness we were stuck in or something far more abstract. I had caught glimpses of his journals from time to time—notes scribbled in his unique handwriting, odd diagrams, and sketches that only made sense to him. He was always observing, always looking for patterns or hidden meanings in the chaos.

For a moment, the group fell into a quiet rhythm, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I turned my attention back to the painting, the brush in my hand steady as I added a few final touches to the flowers. The conversation around me faded into the background, the light chatter and quiet murmurs creating a strangely comforting atmosphere. It was a fleeting moment of calm in the midst of everything that had been happening.

After a while, I finally managed to finish the last few strokes, each one feeling more deliberate than the last. I set the brush down, letting out a small sigh of relief as I pulled my hand back from the journal. My eyes took in the picture before me, and I allowed myself a moment to just observe it in its entirety. The flowers, their maroon and white petals blending seamlessly into each other, the deep green stems curving delicately beneath the soft yellow accents, and the navy blue background that brought everything together in a way I hadn’t expected. It was simple, but there was something about it that felt complete, something that resonated deeply within me.

I leaned back slightly, taking a few steps away to get a better look at it, giving my mind time to adjust to the image I’d created. I couldn’t help but notice how the colors had come together in a way that made it seem almost… alive like the flowers were blooming right before my eyes. Each petal held its own character, every stroke of paint carrying a little piece of me, a little piece of the moment.

A smile slowly spread across my face as I stood there, allowing myself to feel proud of what I had just done. It wasn’t anything extraordinary in the grand scheme of things, but to me, it felt like an achievement. A tiny, fleeting moment of beauty in the middle of a world that had so often been defined by violence, survival, and endless chaos.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had taken time to do something like this—just sit. I could breathe, like I wasn’t just a soldier, a survivor, or part of a group trying to fight their way through the madness. I was simply me, and this painting was a piece of that person.

I glanced over at my companions, who had quietly observed my work throughout the process. They were still in their places—Dempsey leaning back against a boulder, Nikolai standing nearby with his arms crossed, Richtofen sitting with me, and Takeo, who had remained silent throughout, now looking at the painting with quiet intensity.

They hadn’t said much as I painted, but I could feel their presence, their attention, in a way that made the moment feel even more significant. It wasn’t just that I had created something—I had shared it with them. I didn’t know what they thought of it exactly, but I could tell they appreciated the fact that I had taken the time to do something that wasn’t just about survival. It was about creating, about living in a moment of peace, however fleeting it might be.

I glanced down at the picture again, taking in its full glory. The simple flowers now felt like a quiet triumph, a testament to the fact that, even in this world, moments of beauty could still exist. A warm smile tugged at my lips, and for a second, I almost forgot about everything else.

As I stood there, taking it all in, I felt a deep sense of contentment settle over me. Maybe it was silly, maybe it was small, but it was a moment of peace in a world that rarely offered any. And for now, that was enough.

#cod #cod zombies #edward richtofen #tank dempsey #primis crew #primis nikolai #nikolai cod #takeo cod #artist reader #x reader #primis crew x reader #primis takeo

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widowswineapologist · 1 year ago

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a/n: random assortment of hcs for the primis boys! slightly suggestive at times so proceed with caution. i left it kind of ambiguous as to whether this was canon au or modern au so have fun imagining whatever :33

primis richtofen:

♡ - he's the type to spend hours initially researching a very vague question he has and then it spirals into him researching something completely unrelated to said question. don't ask him how he got from reading about greek mythology to how bed bugs mate, he doesn't know.

♡ - (also don't ask him how bed bugs mate.)

♡ - for some strange reason, for as long as he could remember, he just gets the most random and inconvenient of nosebleeds. it has happened so often that he's grown to just be mildly annoyed by it at best and he usually has tissues on hand just in case. for him, this is entirely normal, but one time he got a nosebleed while he was talking to you and you freaked out and he had to reassure you he wasn't dying.

♡ - richtofen always wants to be the smartest guy in the room, but he kind of goes feral whenever you correct him. intelligence is already an extremely attractive trait to him, and passion compliments it greatly. the slight humiliation he feels for being wrong is quickly forgotten when he sees that fire in your eyes as you lecture him.

♡ - if you're not able to read or speak german, he is... not exactly going to teach you. what he is going to do, however, is randomly hand you a slip of paper with what seems to be utter gibberish scribbled on it, and he'll simply ask you to say the word with a completely serious expression. and then he is going to cackle like a witch when you say it wrong. he enjoys the little things.

primis dempsey:

♡ - he's really bothered by how much he can't remember about himself, so as a substitute, he tries to remember everything he can about you. it's incredibly sweet and thoughtful sometimes, but occasionally it creeps you out that he can recall some extremely niche and easily forgettable detail you revealed about yourself in passing several months ago.

♡ - throughout his life, he's had a habit of just... randomly falling off his bed in the middle of the night. he has no idea why it happens, he's just grown accustomed to waking up on the floor with his blankets trying their best to keep him tethered to the mattress. it truly is a sight to behold.

♡ - what dempsey lacks in book smarts, he makes up for in street smarts. he knows a bunch of strange life hacks, random bits of information about generally niche topics, weird remedies for certain illnesses, the works. (if any of you have seen breaking bad, he's kinda got jesse vibes in that regard LMAO)

♡ - he doesn't do it anymore, but during the earlier stages of your relationship, he really liked pushing your buttons. once, in the midst of an argument, you slapped him, and after the initial shock wore off, you frantically tried to apologize, only to be met with the marine giving you a lazy smirk. he wore the red handprint on his face like a badge of honor.

♡ - (you've asked him multiple times if he's a masochist or something and he never gives you a straight answer.)

primis nikolai:

♡ - that one guy that just always has random resources on him for virtually no discernable reason. you need batteries? he's already reaching into his pockets. you need a toothpick? it's your lucky day, he's got a pack of them right here. hell, you need matches? he's fishing an entire box out of his bag.

♡ - nikolai has a strange habit of taking in stray animals. he literally can't help it, he sees a cute, fuzzy little creature in need and he's dropping everything to assist the little guy. it's a little sweet watching him take care of animals like puppies or kittens, but he brought home a bear cub once and that's when it became a problem. you do kind of miss mishka though.

♡ - his upper body strength is INSANE. it's not news to anyone, not even you, but it was a little shocking when nikolai asked you to sit on his back while he was doing push-ups. and he did a good amount of them!! if he noticed your shocked expression when he was done, he didn't mention it, but he does subtly flex in front of you every once in a while. what? he's just proud of his physique.

♡ - it might just be because of where he grew up, but he's always checking if you're cold or not, especially during the night. the second you say yes, he's dropping everything to find you a better coat, or blanket, or he even gives you his gloves. he doesn't want you to be cold :( you're always welcome to leech off his body heat too.

primis takeo:

♡ - the proud owner of a very impressive and vast collection of bladed weapons. he prefers swords by a long shot, but even he can't turn away from a well-forged knife. it would probably be concerning if it was literally anyone else, but it's takeo so it's cool.

♡ - a relationship with takeo is an extremely slow burn, but once you've finally crossed that threshold, takeo is in it for life. he takes the term "ride or die" very seriously, and he's willing to do nearly anything for you. takeo would even kill for you if asked. anything to make you happy. anything to keep blood off your hands.

♡ - takeo is very graceful and collected in all aspects of life, except for the first few minutes after he wakes up. his brain tends to lag behind during those moments and sleep still has a tight hold on him, so it results in him looking completely and utterly bewildered as he takes in his surroundings. sometimes he mutters incomprehensible things in japanese during this, and it's hard to keep yourself from laughing. he's kind of embarrassed by it once he fully wakes up.

♡ - he will NEVER admit it, but he has entertained the thought of being a house husband before. what he found even more embarrassing, however, was that he realized he would be very good at it. he's a good cook, he's a god at keeping things neat and tidy, and he would enjoy having time to himself for a while. takeo will never bring this up, but if you do, he's down for it.

#had this in my drafts for a while bc i got so anxious abt posting it?????#nd i decided i needed to stop being a wimp nd just post it so here u all go i hope u like it ^^#cod zombies #cod zombies x reader #tank dempsey #edward richtofen #nikolai belinski #takeo masaki #tank dempsey x reader #edward richtofen x reader #nikolai belinski x reader #takeo masaki x reader

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eloisyw8 · 2 years ago

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Boop!

Inspired by

#call of duty #call of duty zombies #cod zombies #takeo masaki #tank dempsey #ultimis dempsey #ultimis takeo #ultimis crew #call of duty black ops #cod x reader #codz #primis crew #primis takeo #primis dempsey #codz x reader #my art

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amonisweird · 4 months ago

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I couldn’t stop thinking about the Dempsey x Takeo edit that I’ve been wanting to do so I looked up some ship edit audios and this was the only one that I liked😭 this doesn’t look that good but I tried🤷‍♀️

#foryou #cod zombies #call of duty zombies #tank dempsey #takeo masaki #tankeo #Dempsey x takeo #cod zombies edit #call of duty zombies edit #tank dempsey edit #takeo masaki edit #tankeo edit

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1andxrea1tge1bisexual1here1 · 3 months ago

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Yk what fuck you

*gives you apex legends x cods zombies headcanons*

Dempsey lost his arm from alters portal

Takeos half dead

Some of the energy from the eather Is in the primis crews body (now have hetrocrima (2 eye colors (takeo and Dempsey) and all that stuff)

Ultimis crew is dead

Richtofen has a scar from the aether

Nikolai suffers from ptsd

ULTIMIS NIKOLAI GETS THE CURLY TREATMENT

That's all

#takeo masaki #call of duty zombies #edward richtofen #cod zombies #tank dempsey #nikolai belinski #primis takeo #primis richtofen #apex legends #cod zombies x apex legends #mouthwashing reference #>:3

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nolongerdrowning · 6 months ago

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Me and a friend have been thinking about a f1 × codz au,,, Just hear me out.

Out favourite four would be in Red bull. Because it matches them. Anyway, Richtofen would be the new director (for like, a maximum of five years at the moment of the story), who is pretty much your combination of extremely genius but also extremely crazy. He has good strategies - at least good enough to have Takeo the Max Verstappen of this dimension - but also has rather... toxic tendencies, like his back and forth with Dempsey.

Poor Dempsey just got into Toro Rosso (at that time named like this, anyway) (some context for those who don't know: a team dependent on Red bull that drivers go at before entering Red bull itself) from Haas (that isn't exactly as good as Red Bull to put it lightly,,,), and, after finally getting out Toro Rosso and getting into the real deal - Red Bull - he's really hopeful about his career. Problem? Him and Richtofen got together. But he can't figure out how he went from second driver on Red bull back to Toro Rosso. Why his boyfriend would sent him back to "training" after the real deal. He doesn't have a clue what in Richtofen's twisted mind concluded his boyfriend would like such a downgrade. But he has to shut up and suck it up as Richtofen promises him it's a temporary thing, that he'll be back in no time and not to worry.

Takeo doesn't have nearly half the problems with Richtofen, as he comes with really good results all the time. He's the golden child of Redbull, loved and taken care of by Richtofen. Meanwhile, Nikolai, despite having a great downfall after a certain... accident, is still held by Richtofen, whether it be second driver or reserve driver.

There's far more to this au, but I'll explain their dynamics in a seperate post. Thanks for reading!!

#cod black ops #cod zombies #edward richtofen #nikolai belinski #takeo masaki #tank dempsey #richtofen x dempsey #f1 au #f1!codz #formula 1 #really weird enviroment #poor Dempsey #red bull racing #red bull formula 1

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edweenie · 6 months ago

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RiDe dump for both the Ult and Prim enjoyer

#edward richtofen #tank dempsey #takeo masaki #nikolai belinski #call of duty #cod zombies #call of duty zombies #cod #my art #codz #richtofen x dempsey #this quote is canon

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angelwheat · 2 months ago

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Primis, "Tank" Dempsey X Reader

Summary: Tank Dempsey. A man of action. A true embodiment of the term “Shoot first, ask questions later”. Rarely a man of depth, until new feelings arise amidst the chaotic life he lives.

Topics: Fluff, Pining

Words: 4792 | Pronouns: She/Her (no use of Y/n)

Location: Zetsubou No Shima

Long ago, the blazing sun that scorched the island had set below the horizon. Where the sky was naked of gracing clouds during the day, had been veiled in a soft mist, exposing the freckles that were the stars brightening the night sky.

A fire burned brightly before their small, circled group, casting a warm amber hue on the silhouettes touched by its glow. The flickering flames consumed the wood, reducing it to ashes. The life and soul within the logs and twigs are now transformed and released into a dancing flame.

Five friends gathered around the campfire. While initially perceived as mere acquaintances forming a temporary crew, they had developed a close-knit group to fight the apocalypse together. With their differences no longer isolating them, sitting around the fire was a rare yet contempt occasion.

Sharing stories of home, gentle laughter, and light-hearted jokes filled the evening with warmth and smiles. It felt like a truly unique and precious experience during such challenging times, something to be treasured.

Overcome by exhaustion, the men gradually succumbed to fatigue, their slumped shoulders a testament to their weariness. Nikolai was the first to yield to his tiredness, followed shortly by Takeo. Together, they slowly withdrew, their steps heavy as they disappeared from view, making their way to the temporary refuge of the island bunker.

Richtofen remained for a short time, sitting quietly alone on a log near the dying embers. He appeared detached from reality, gazing passively into the fire with heavy eyes, his mind preoccupied. He slumped slightly and sighed, accepting his defeat as he struggled to stay awake.

Rising from his seat where he had been all evening, Richtofen grumbled in the way he excused himself and followed the other two men on the same route to the bunker.

Sitting on a neighbouring log was the only man still able to keep himself awake.

That man was Dempsey.

He gently stirred the fire with a long stick throughout the evening, rearranging the wood to maintain the flames. Perhaps using this as a way to stay awake.

Dempsey sat quietly, his posture hunched, his arms propping himself up on his knees, peacefully observing his surroundings and occasionally looking up at the stars, noticing their changing positions as the night progressed.

Throughout the night, the American appeared to be quite vigilant, almost as if consumed by anxiety, constantly anticipating a potential surprise attack. His fidgeting-constantly shifting his weight, fiddling with his hands, and even picking at the dead bark of the log he sat upon-revealed his stress.

The girl felt that a peaceful and quiet evening might be too good to be true, a sense of pity pervading her as she subtly glanced at the American throughout the night.

Dempsey was momentarily distracted by a crack in the firewood, noticing that the embers had fallen and scattered ashes askew. He sighed, nearly falling forward as fatigue weighed heavily upon his shoulders.

He straightened himself, feeling his back could use a good stretch, and a look of satisfaction appeared on his face as he rolled his shoulder back.

Glancing briefly at the girl seated nearby on a log, Dempsey quietly began removing his gloves.

“Not tired?” His faint question slipped into the air.

She straightened her posture, imitating the American, and sighed heavily, shaking her head.

“You sure look it.” He said pitifully as he shoved his gloves into the pockets of his jacket.

“Speak for yourself.” She feigned a half-smile.

They both appeared equally tired, with their eyes supported by dark rings, downcast and bloodshot. Their brows furrowed, drooped even, like an anchor weighing their expression in a deep frown.

The girl yawned and rubbed her eyes, feeling as though the soot from the fire had lightly settled on her eyelashes, making them feel heavy and irritating her already watery eyes, which only added to her fatigue. Her hands lightly slapped her knees when she put her hands down.

Dempsey had been quietly observing her the entire time and felt a similar sense of compassion for her as she felt for him. He gently bounced his leg and clasped his hands, subtly making a worried expression as he chewed his cheek. It was a habit the girl had observed before; he would sometimes do it when he was deep in thought or perhaps feeling anxious.

“Unsettling, isn’t it?” She spoke up.

The American’s eyebrows rose slightly, at the sound of her voice, and he looked at her.

“The silence...” The girl couldn’t help the way she wearily glanced over her shoulder.

Only the rustling of the ghostly breeze in the trees could be heard, a sound that became jarring after growing accustomed to the regular noise of gunfire, screams, and gurgles of the undead.

“You’re telling me.” Dempsey responded, his eyes scanning the darkness.

A disturbing though unexpectedly entered her mind. The image of a zombie hand emerging from the shadows and grasping her shoulder startled and frightened her, causing her to gasp and widen her eyes. She visibly tensed, her shoulder rising, and she froze for a moment.

Dempsey’s attention was immediately drawn to her catching her breath.

“You okay?” He asked worriedly, eyeing her intently.

With a deep sigh, she relaxed slightly. The girl nodded, briefly closing her eyes.

“I’m fine. Just a stupid thought that came to mind.” She tried to dismiss it, hoping to put herself at ease.

Turning his attention back to the fire, Dempsey noticed the flames were beginning to die down. He tried rearranging the wood, though it seemed more out of habit than hope, in a final attempt to keep the fire burning. However, it appeared the fire was destined to extinguish soon. The comforting warmth was fading, leaving them vulnerable to the cool night air.

“This fire ain’t gonna be burning much longer.” Dempsey stated frankly, his tone weary. “Besides you need to get some rest.”

She plucked a small twig from beside her feet to fiddle with, answering him monotonously. “I doubt I’ll sleep anyway.”

Dempsey felt no need to justify her decision to stay awake, despite his apparent concern for her well-being.

“I can’t seem to relax.” She told bluntly, bowing her head.

With the final embers fading, the girl hugged herself, feeling a slight chill in the soft breeze. She hadn’t expected to feel cold on the island, given the intense heat upon their arrival.

Instead of lingering over various thoughts, an idea promptly occurred to her. She gently pats her knees, glancing at Dempsey before rising slowly.

“I’m gonna take a walk. “ She said, flicking hair from her face. “No use in sitting around all night.”

Dempsey sat quietly, gazing up at her with rounded eyes, his expression otherwise neutral. He appeared to be studying her for a moment while she was admiring the stars.

“You wanna join me?” She politely offered, looking back at him.

Dempsey sighed and replied, “Sure. Why not?”

Upon rising, the American let out a soft grunt as he stretched, his muscles protesting the prolonged sitting. The tension painfully reminded him of his strenuous life over the past week.

Having arranged the rocks to contain the fire in the centre, Dempsey used his foot to extinguish the remaining embers, kicking dirt and ash over the blackened logs, leaving on the pale moonlight to illuminate them; a stark contrast to the orange glow they had enjoyed a short time before.

The girl carefully stepped over the logs, glancing back at the American, and patiently waited for him to make sure the fire was completely out.

After ensuring the fire was adequately snuffed, he instinctively touched his holster to confirm his pistol was in place. Dempsey checked his surroundings for anything he might have overlooked before their eyes met, and she offered him a tired smile.

As she began to walk slowly, Dempsey followed a few paces behind, his hand instinctively moving toward the small of her back, but he quickly withdrew just as he caught up to her.

Observing the pair strolling together, one might infer a deeper connection than mere acquaintance. Their conversation grew to become free flowing, punctuated by easy laughter, within only a few encounters. At times when Dempsey displayed his usual charm and flirtatiousness, he was met with a manner of the same, initially surprising him but ultimately drawing him closer.

Their close bond was evident. They often fought side-by-side, and instinctively sought each other out when injured, preferring each other’s aid to that of the team’s doctor.

Perhaps now was another opportunity to grow closer.

However, the girl found it improbable that she would encounter Cupid during the apocalypse and be granted the gift of love; such a gift would need to come from a higher power to be believable.

As they walked together, a towering stone sculpture came into view. It appeared to be a ritual monument, with four tall pillars guarding a central stone piece, an altar of some sort, housing four skulls carved with symbols. To their left, though partially blocked by rubble, was what seemed to be an entrance to a crypt.

Together, they walked towards the structure, their steps slightly uneven due to fatigue. They silently observed the grounds as they slowly continued onwards.

Tank ambled along, keeping his hands in his jacket pockets. He frequently glanced to his side, noticing her curious observation of her surroundings.

The island was a verdant paradise. Trees, plants, and climbing vines adorned the buildings, while vibrantly coloured flowers were artfully arranged between. A captivating feature was the seemingly luminous nature of the flora. Flower petals flowed like soft nightlights as dusk settled, emitting a gentle mist. Leaves, too, emanated glowing particles, creating an enchanting, magical atmosphere.

Richtofen had suggested that extended exposure to element 115 could potentially influence both human life and the natural world.

Dempsey’s train of though was interrupted when he noticed the girl was no longer in his peripheral vision. He paused, observing her as she stopped to admire a brightly coloured magenta flower.

She carefully leaned in closer to examine the plant, which stood slightly above the soil. She noted details such as its thorns, which were noticeably longer and sharper than those of a typical plant. However, the flower itself resembled a wild rose, possessing more petals than usual within its small bud. Its captivating beauty tempted her to reach out and pick it.

Unbeknownst to the girl, the Marine quietly stood behind her, admiring her more than the flower that captivated her, enchanted by the way the magenta hue cast a magical glow on her features.

Tank would never admit to being a hopeless romantic, particularly amidst the current global turmoil; it seemed frivolous. However, moments like these tugged at his heartstrings, revealing his true feelings for someone he must only address as his teammate in public. He wished he could be that flower, basking in the beauty of her gaze. Unbeknownst to him, he had missed the many times she had looked at him with admiration.

At that moment, he saw her as not just a friend, but as something more, perhaps even a celestial being, as the soft pink light illuminated her so gracefully.

“You okay there, Dempsey?” She inquired, tilting her head and pulling herself upright to look at him. “Did you hear what I said?”

The American appeared to regain his composure as she spoke, his eyes widening slightly her adjusted his posture and smoothed his hair sheepishly.

Dempsey chuckled awkwardly as he apologised, briefly looking away.

She gently turned her head to look at the flower once more, observing its graceful movement in the breeze, the soil serving as it eternal stage.

“I said it’s strange how they glow, isn’t it?” She repeated.

It was only then that Dempsey truly noticed the flower that caught her eye, if only for a moment.

“I guess…” He replied, somewhat awkwardly.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Dempsey?” She asked, her eyes slightly narrowed as she regarded him. “You seem a bit spaced out.”

Subconsciously shifting his hands into his pockets, the Marine shrugged nonchalantly, his unzipped jacket shifting slightly to expose his grey shirt underneath.

“I’m good.” He assured simply. “Just tired.”

While Dempsey’s statement held some truth, he could only hope she wouldn’t notice the way he swallowed nervously.

The stars shone softly through the branches off the tall trees, like countless tiny, watchful eyes, as the moonlight illuminated the leaves with streaks of silver.

Each of them knew to seize the opportunity to calm their anxious minds; the paranoia about immediate threats had thankfully subsided for the night, after they had become accustomed to it.

As the girl gazed at the sky, captivated by the numerous twinkling lights, Dempsey found himself admiring her, believing he could see the stars mirrored in her eyes. The wisps emitting from the nature floating around her like fireflies.

Dempsey’s eyes followed her as she walked to the stone steps leading up to the platform, where she sat gracefully on a higher step, making eye contact with him. For a moment, as if frozen, Tank felt himself suddenly being drawn to her, captivated by the flutter of her eyes.

The girl’s previous tiredness had completely disappeared after leaving the campfire. However, Dempsey’s continued sighing and face-wiping clearly indicated his exhaustion, or so he believed.

Instead, it seemed his emotions were overwhelming him, like a fever of raw emotion.

Dempsey gently lowered himself beside her, maintaining a mutual distance. He then leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, his shoulders rising and falling as he composed himself, gazing quietly at the ground.

The American was unaware of the intense, concerned gaze directed towards him. The girl gently moved closer, softly tapping his thigh to get his attention.

Anticipating the question, Dempsey promptly responded.

“I’m okay.” He took a breath, gently patting her hand to assure her.

“I know.” She spoke in a gentle tone. “But you just look so exhausted.”

Silence surrounded them.

While Dempsey sat beside her, he hoped the sound of his rapidly beating heart wouldn’t be heard. He felt his palms sweating and he wiped his hands on his pants. He started bouncing his leg subconsciously, a habit the girl had noticed earlier while they sat by the fire.

Noticing his sudden fidgeting, the girl sighed softly.

“You know, Dempsey,” She began directing herself towards him. “I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s on your mind.”

The American audibly huffed.

“I’m not used to all this sitting around.” Dempsey somewhat lied.

Although rest was unfamiliar to them, and survival mode was their usual state, it was clear that Dempsey was struggling to know how to spend his time without being preoccupied in his thoughts.

Nodding softly, she then spoke again, “I understand. But what is it, really?”

Dempsey avoided her gaze, swallowing thickly. He nervously drummed his hands on his knees, briefly looking ahead as if summoning the courage to speak.

Nearby, the girl waited patiently, playing with some leaves she found.

“Richtofen talks a lot about how destiny and the fate of the world is written in that book.” He started bluntly.

He paused, squinting as he subtly pinched his finger while he thought.

“What’s it called?” He asked genuinely.

The girl was briefly reminded of how prolonged exposure to element 115 had affected his memory, causing him to forget even minor details.

“The Kronorium?” She replied.

Tank nodded. “That’s it.”

She was briefly puzzled, apprehensively asking, “What about it?”

Dempsey slumped forward slightly. “I don’t know… I guess I’ve just been thinking…”

A watchful gaze followed his every movement, noting his restless demeanour.

The American apprehensively looked in her general direction, not at her eyes, as he asked, “Do you think moments like this are written in there too?”

His sudden question caused her to tilt her head slightly and furrow her brows in a pure look of confusion.

“Moments like this?” She asked curiously.

The glanced at her quickly with slightly widened eyes as he realised the context of his words were misunderstood.

“I mean the times outside of killing zombies.” He explained, chuckling softly.

Having understood his meaning, the girl nodded and hummed in acknowledgment, then fell silent.

She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, deeply considering his question and the uncertainty it implied. Questions of her own arose, accompanied by a sense of doubt, as she wondered if Richtofen has been entirely truthful about their journey and what the future might hold.

Feeling the silence was uncomfortable, Dempsey quickly spoke. “It’s a stupid question…”

“No, it isn’t actually.” She shook her head, sighing softly. “You’ve just opened my eyes to that thought.”

The American turned to her, his expression appearing almost surprised as he looked at her. She returned his gaze, her eyes slightly narrowed, her neutral expression subtly conveying to Dempsey her sincerity.

He adjusted his position, looking down as he sighed. “I can’t help but think about it.”

Tank appeared to be exhibiting his usual anxious behaviour once more. He put his hands in his pockets, his feet began to tap gently, and his shoulders rose slightly as he inhaled a breath, tensing up, becoming frustrated with himself.

“So, you think the Kronorium could be some sort of script?” She asked, utterly curious.

Dempsey responded lazily. “I guess you could say that.”

She thought aloud. “Sounds plausible actually.”

The American never spoke a word, ruminating on his own thoughts.

“That’s why you’ve been so antsy all night?” She asked genuinely. “I noticed around the fire earlier.”

In response, Dempsey merely shrugged, unwilling to admit his own thoughts had kept him restless all night.

The girl perceived his vulnerability becoming apparent. It was unusual for Dempsey to be quiet and fidgety, much less express his concerns. He wouldn’t even confide in his teammates, even though they might be the only ones to understand. She surmised very quickly when they met that Dempsey strongly disliked displaying any sense of vulnerability. After all, his ego likely overshadowed any consideration of such emotional exposure.

Given his exhaustion, she sensed that his willingness to express his deepest thoughts stemmed from a lack of energy to maintain his guard.

However, Dempsey hoped that in that moment the ominous glowing of the nature wasn’t casting enough light on him to reveal the raw emotion practically dripping from him.

“Call me crazy but-” Dempsey gave a nod to his surroundings as he contemplated. “Do you think all of this seems a bit…”

“Farfetched?” She guessed. “Like it doesn’t seem like coincidence?”

The American nodded in agreement, his brows raised when he looked at her.

A relieved sigh escaped her lips, as a lingering thought was finally voiced. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s thought that.”

Dempsey heard the way she giggled softly before her voice was heard again.

“I mean, you can’t tell me the zombies just wanted a night off.”

The girl didn’t anticipate hearing Tank’s faint chuckling, making her heart skip a beat.

Dempsey absently ran a hand through his hair. “Exactly.”

A small smile was sent his way before a quick question occurred to her.

“Wait, you think I would’ve called you crazy?” She laughed softly, a little incredulously.

The girl was relieved that Tank found the simple question amusing, evident by the gentle smile forming on his face.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I’d never.” She told surely, gently patting his shoulder. “Your thought is pretty justified in this crazy world.”

They each looked around; night still blanketed the land. Neither of them knew the time, perhaps wondering if time even existed after their journey through fragmented realities. However, the sun was certainly not scheduled to rise anytime soon. It was still far too deep into the night.

The girl gently shifted her position, crossing her leg over the other, moving slightly closer to the man next to her.

“That sort of question really baffles me.” She told simply. “More so because it comes from you.”

Upon meeting her gaze, Dempsey’s expression mirrored his confusion regarding her sudden statement.

With a nervous smile, she looked down at the floor. “I figured since the day we met you don’t seem like someone that talks about their feelings very often.”

Tank appeared the gaze at her with a vacant expression, seemingly surprised by her statement or perhaps marvelling at her insightful observation; he was genuinely unsure of his own feelings in that moment.

He chuckled softly, gesturing towards her with a languid movement as he casually leaned in slightly to reply. “Well, I guess your right about that.”

Her eyebrow arched slightly, her gaze softening, a detail Tank noticed, causing his heart to flutter.

“But you’re talking about things now.” She pointed out, her gentle tone making it sound almost like a question.

Dempsey’s gaze fell to the space between then, captivated by her words. He felt a sudden urge to confess his deepest feelings without reservation, the words welling up but held back only by his lips.

“I know.” His voice was low.

Tank turned away, choosing to face forward instead of directly facing her, slightly worried that his mixed expression might betray his feelings.

A gentle breeze blew by, and the girl felt herself drifting closer to him, as if guided by the wind. The American surely noticed the decreasing distance between them, his posture appearing slightly more rigid as they drew near.

“So,” She began, “If you think there’s things written between the lines…”

She gently placed her arm under his. Dempsey remained still. He observed as her hand delicately moved toward his. He naturally turned his hand, offering his palm for her own. Her fingertips lightly touched his calloused hands, intertwining her fingers with his, joining them together as if they were perfectly fitting pieces.

“Moments like this…” She almost whispered. “You think they’re meant to happen?”

Dempsey felt his heart pounding and his mind going blank as he focused intently on their hands. The comforting touch of her thumb on the back of his hand soothed him, dispelling any negative thoughts he’d had that evening.

The space between them had disappeared, something Dempsey had longer for all night. The girl nestled comfortably against him. She gently touched his arm, noticing Dempsey visibly relax under her touch. Her eyes fluttered closed as she smiled, feeling completely content.

“I think we’ve written this ourselves if you ask me.” She expressed sincerely, stroking his arm. “And I honestly think we deserve it after all the shit we’ve been through together.”

Together.

The word resonated in his mind for a minute. Dempsey remembered every moment spent alongside her, or fighting side-by-side against overwhelming odds. During difficult times, when her emotions became too much to bear, Tank listened intently so she could alleviate her stress. Conversely, when he found himself injured after selflessly protecting his teammates, she offered comfort and care.

Dempsey’s unspoken emotions were impossible to decipher. The girl, understanding his desperate need for comfort, allowed him to simply rest in her care throughout the night.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?” Dempsey spoke lowly, his tone graced with faint disbelief, yet utterly sincere.

She breathed a light laugh. “I don’t.”

Even she was unsure why she had been virtually appointed as the team’s mediator. Perhaps it was due to her frequent pursuit of reason.

However, the light pressure Tank felt on his shoulder vanished as she sat up and faced him, her eyes sparkling as they met his. For the first time that night, Dempsey fully focused his attention on her, turning to properly observe her, remaining close.

“But you tell me, Mr. ‘Man of Action’…” She giggled at herself as she let both her hands hold his. “What’s the right thing to do?”

Tank observed her mannerisms, noticing the emphasis in her words as her gaze drifted to his lips. Her eyes fluttered when she met his again, her eyebrows subtly rising.

Her hands gently caressed his. However, Tank remained captivated by her eyes, fearing he might miss the sparkle he saw shimmering in the ambient light.

At that moment, the girl before him seemed to embody the magical rose that had captivated her earlier. Dempsey, at the time, couldn’t understand the fascination with something viewed from afar, something that couldn’t be touched or admired closely, and especially something that couldn’t be plucked for oneself.

Dempsey realised he had been expressing his admiration through longing glances and subtle gestures, when he wished to convey his heartfelt affection.

Tank was speechless at that moment. His hands slipped from her grasp, one arm softly encircling her waist like ivy clinging to a building: a tender embrace. With the other, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and then gingerly cupped her face.

Drawn by instinct, the girl gently leaned in, her hands coming to rest on his chest, feeling the relaxed rhythm of his heartbeat. The fleeting sensation of their lips brushing lightly together before a soft, tender kiss.

That gentle feeling was quite unusual; each of them couldn’t help but savour it.

However, the girl was the first to gently withdraw, noticing how Dempsey appeared to linger for a second. Affectionately, she kissed his nose.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Dempsey confessed.

Her arms gently rested on his shoulders, as his hands found a comfortable place on her waist. The girl observed his bashful gaze, yet a sincere smile warmed his face.

She had long known of the American’s affection for her. His admiring gazes and gestures were certainly not missed. She always seemed to be his top priority, and he consistently sought her company during any free time. Even when he feigned annoyance with Richtofen as an excuse to be near her, she recognised the longing in his eyes.

“Dempsey,” She began, giggling softly. “I don’t think subtly is your strong suit.”

Gently, she reached out to smooth his hair, carefully tucking stray strands from his forehead.

“But frankly, that’s what I like about you.” She told, smiling bashfully. “Your will to show more than tell…”

His charismatic charm suddenly shone through as he smirked, causing the girl to visibly brighten and feel her heart flutter; the man, who had seemed lost all evening, suddenly seemed alive again.

“Well in that case…” Dempsey’s smirk turned to a grin for a second.

Surprised, the girl gasped as she was unexpectedly embraced in another kiss, instinctively holding onto him, only managing a brief return of the kiss before he slowly withdrew.

She felt a blush of embarrassment and spoke breathlessly. “You’re lucky I took a liking to you from the get-go.”

Dempsey playfully rolled his eyes. However, he was suddenly struck by how fortunate he was in that moment. To be blessed with something positive in his life- he never thought he would see such a day since the outbreak. He felt as though the burden of relying solely on his survival instincts had been lifted, even if only for tonight. He was certainly going to cherish it.

In that moment, time and space might have ceased to exist, unnoticed by the pair, who were completely focused on each other. Their surroundings faded from view, and the gentle breeze felt like a comforting presence. However, despite their tender gaze and embrace, the girl sensed the way Dempsey was deep in thought by observing his somewhat dazed expression.

A faint line appeared between her brows as she thoughtfully furrowed them.

“What’s on your mind now?” She asked, her hand reaching to caress his cheekbone with her thumb.

“Nothin’.” He answered, glancing down. “But I guess I’m just wondering what this means now.”

The girl understood his meaning when his arms already around her waist, shifted slightly and tightened their embrace, and she hummed thoughtfully.

Then, after a short time, she gave him a knowing look.

“Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to write between the lines.” She told, her hands fiddling with the collar of his jacket.

Dempsey noticed her wink and immediately grasped her meaning.

They both were certain that the Kronorium had enough space between its chapters to discreetly house something of their own. Also rightfully feeling that they deserved a treat during a state of persistent upheaval.

She drew herself close to him, kissing his cheek softly.

“Let’s just keep this between us for now.” She said sincerely.

Tank spoke lowly. “Sure.”

They kissed. Again… And again…

Dawn was still sometime away, so they remained together, finding comfort in each other’s company. For the first time in weeks, they felt a profound sense of serenity, a feeling quite unfamiliar and utterly new, yet entirely welcomed and cherished.

#tank dempsey #tank dempsey x reader #cod zombies #codz #call of duty zombies #edward richtofen #nikolai belinski #takeo masaki #call of duty #codz x reader

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