#usually guys that tall aren't put off by my height

[powerfultenderness]

🥺😭

From the bottom of my tall girl heart, thank you! 😍

I'm not even very tall. Just enough that when I wear heels, I'm as tall as the average man (ok I just googled. I hit 5'10" in heels, which is taller than the average (us) man 😓) and it has never been cute! 😭

But this is cute!

Hey mama😚 I saw that you’re taking requests and I came RUNNINGGGGG to ask you this, so!

How do we feel the 141 men would react to being with a taller, thicker girlie that often gets insecure bc of that? This idea has been brewin for a minutee so I had to get it outta my system😭 if you’re comfortable with it too could you involve konig in it? Don’t feel pressured to ofc 😚💕

Have a good rest of your day/afternoon/night!! Xoxo💋

Hi! I love this ask! I myself am not too tall, around 5'5 (5'4" 3/4 to be exact) and I have never been very skinny, but hopefully I can do this idea justice!

warnings: afab! fem reader, smut MDNI, body worship

Price is a thigh man and he will die on that hill. He just loves your legs. Since you are taller than most girls, that just means there's more of your legs. You were Price's dream come true because not only were you tall, your thighs were so perfectly plump from how thick you were too. When he first met you when Laswell introduced you two at her wedding anniversary party, you wore a skirt that ended mid thigh, leaving just enough to his imagination, and just enough for him to get a peek at your thighs. He noticed he didn't have to break his neck looking down at you, and immediately imagined how easy it would be to kiss you. He also noticed your damn heels he thought looked so fucking sexy on you, creating the illusion of elongating your legs even further and making you taller, which just brought you closer up to his lips.

That night ended with him taking your heels off for you and slowly dragging his hands and mouth up your long legs, making every sting from snide comments about your skirt or heels melt away.

Your body is so soft in his hands and he loves squeezing you. He'll kiss you and both of his hands are immediately on your ass squeezing, making you yelp.

"Mmm. Damn lovie. This fucking arse is delicious." He'll smirk down at you while you giggle at his choice of words and his hands move down to pinch your thighs.

"And these thighs. Just wanna bite 'em up."

You always know how this goes. Whenever his hands are on you and he's talking to you like this, it always ends up with his head between your thighs.

And "bite 'em up" he does. He sucks hickeys into your inner thighs and leaves little bite marks.

"Fuck sweetheart. Look at that. A little love bite right there so you don't forget who's face belongs between your thighs."

Bonus if you squeeze your thighs around his head. It would make him cum immediately.

Price would love thigh fucking. Arguably even more than vaginal sex. Something about the way your thighs squeeze him so nicely without even trying, your slick lubing your pussy and thighs perfectly and just enough for his thick cock to slide in and out between them.

"Fuck darlin' look at that. Don't even need to press your thighs together for me to fuck them. Squeezing me so well. You're so fucking soft."

Simon is so pleasantly surprised when he first meets you. You were tall and you weren't even wearing heels which made Simon silently groan behind his mask as he thought about your long thick legs locking around his waist as he pounded into you.

Your forehead would come up right to his lips, making it so easy to kiss it, which he always took advantage of.

I feel like Simon would also just pick you up randomly. Lifting you up easily when you complain about being too tall or heavy to show you that you are not.

Most times he'll throw you on the bed and show you why your height and thickness are perfect.

"See honey, if you were short, your legs wouldn't be able to lift yourself up and down my cock so easily would they?" He says in your ear, gripping your hips while you ride him.

Or when he's fucking you in doggy with a death grip on your waist when you're feeling insecure he'll say:

"Yeah bunny just like that. Look at that perfect fuckin' ass bouncing back on me. If you were smaller I wouldn't get to grip your cute little love handles like this now would I hm? They're called love handles for a reason now aren't they?" He says between pants.

Gaz is speechless the first time he sees you. You made him feel like a nerdy schoolboy passing by his popular crush in the hallway. You were taller and bigger than most girls he's seen but that just meant there was more of you for him to love.

He loves seeing you get all dressed up, and especially when you wear fitted dresses and outfits so he can see every shape and curve of your body. He loves how his clothes can fit you just right and thinks it's so cute that you two can share clothes.

You'll try his jeans on and the length will be good enough, but you cannot slide them over the tops of your thighs and ass, making him smirk, but you look in the mirror embarrassed that you are bigger than your boyfriend.

"What's that look for?" He asks, seeing you pout in the mirror and looking behind you at your ass that won't fit in his jeans and you continue to try and pull them up, making the waist band catch under your ass which makes it jiggle with each tug.

"Keep doin' that love. Don't think you know what that view looks like from back here." He says with a full on cheeky smile now.

"Stop it Gaz." You warn him with a glare, genuinely upset his jeans won't fit.

"Aww it's ok hun." He says walking up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning his head on your shoulder.

"I'd rather see you without pants on anyways." He says, and you look down and away from him. Even when you're upset, he still finds a way to make you blush.

Then he'd kiss all up and down your neck, then your arms, and all down your legs pulling the jeans off. He kisses his way back up your body up to your ears and whispers:

"On the bed honey. Need to feel you."

And before you know it, you're sitting on Gaz's face while he locks your thighs around his head with his arms and you can't remember what even got you here in the first place.

"Gaz. Baby can you breathe?" You ask worriedly.

He just grunts disapprovingly and locks his arms around you harder so you don't get the idea to scoot away and you moan, feeling his head nuzzle itself deeper between your thighs.

He doesn't care if he can't breathe. You're the only air he'll ever need.

Johnny is absolutely SMITTEN when he first sees you and he's the most obvious. Mouth agape and eyes wide when Price introduces you to the task force as his niece and Gaz smacks him over the head.

Since then he's been literally obsessed with you and since you started dating, he brags to everyone about how he has the most gorgeous woman in the world.

Johnny loves when you wear heels too. Not only because it makes you taller and accentuates your long legs, but because Johnny is the shortest of the Task Force men, and when you wear heels, his eyes are perfectly aligned with your tits.

Whenever you wear heels around him he is not looking at your eyes. It takes everything in him to not just lean forward and smush his face into your cleavage. For Johnny, a bigger girl also meant bigger boobs for him to play with. He'll also come behind you and just squeeze them, reveling in how much they fill his palms. He just loves your tits so much. You'll be laying down on the couch and he's jumping right on top of you burying his face in them with a content sigh, or he'll be begging you to let him fuck them. He'll slide his cock between your tits and he will absolutely lose his mind for sure, watching how they bounce with each thrust.

For Halloween you two would be Gomez and Morticia since you are literally them in real life anyways.

You definitely feed into his mommy kink. He loves how you hold his head against his chest when he needs a snuggle and how he doesn't feel the need to be so careful handling you, and that way you can treat him like the finest porcelain doll.

König would feel elated and strangely validated since he knows what it's like to be seen as "the tall one".

And with you, for the first time, he doesn't feel so estranged. He, of course was still taller than you, but he loved how you were tall too.

He thinks it's so hot seeing you with your friends and you're taller than them. It gives him a sense of pride knowing that the most noticeable and beautiful girl in the room is his.

I feel like König would absolutely love when you give him handjobs. He's so big that the other women he's been with couldn't exactly hold him correctly or jerk him off fast enough due to his size.

But you? Since you were a little closer to his size, you made it work, two hands, and if you really tried one hand, squeezing and jerking him the way no other woman has, making him shoot cum all over himself.

And he loves how your legs can reach up on his shoulders while he fucks you in a mating press. A shorter woman would have a harder time reaching their legs over him in that position, and finally being able to do it gave him this primal urge to fuck you like he would never fuck anyone else again, not like he ever would want to since he found you.

[starb3rrys]

Can you write a Nikolai x fem!reader nsfw where reader is a lot smaller than Nikolai (still of age ofc) but Nikolai has a size kink?

Hello!\(^ヮ^)/Size kink was definitely a subject I had to do some research on considering I don't usually find myself venturing on that territory. Nonetheless, I found it to be very interesting and had a blast writing this one-shot for you!~

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"My Pretty Little Thing"

Nikolai x F!Reader

Smut: Size Kink, Degradation/Praise, Heavy Dirty Talk

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It is no secret that Nikolai is a tall guy, measuring at 6'0 ft tall with no shoes on. It's a trait that he has grown to take pride in over the years...and that pride only surged when he met you. Sure, you weren't the shortest person in the world but you were short enough for Nikolai to loom over you. Aside from height, your body seemed petite and small when compared to Nikolais more muscular and toned body. He could pick you up with ease, throwing you over his shoulder any chance he got just to see that cute irritated face of yours. Comparing hand sizes only fueled his ego and ever growing pride as the noticeable difference was as clear as glass. Nikolai's teases about your height became a regular occurrence. He'd often say things like "You should appreciate me more, I get constant neck pains having to look down at you all the time you know", as he puts on a fake pout. You just want to smack that stupid smug look off his face, but how can you when your hands are pinned above your head as he rubs his cock against you wet folds.

A chuckle slipped past Nikolai's lips as he saw the way your body squirmed at the feeling of his cock teasing your entrance. "God baby, you seem to be squirming a lot. Do you like this? The feeling of my cock teasing your sweet little wet hole? I certainly do...", his voice dripped with lust. His right hand kept your wrists pinned above your head with strong force as his left hand trailed down and teased your hardened nipples. His fingers squeezed and softly twisted your buds, conjuring moans from you. Your hips instinctively moved, grinding against his already throbbing dick. Nikolai clenched his teeth as a groan slipped past his lips. "Needy aren't you? Oh don't worry baby...I'll make sure to fill you up", he grinned. His hands left your wrists as they slipped under your thighs. He pushed your legs back, using his hands to spread you open. The mere sight of your wet cunt was enough to make him leak pre-cum. He gripped your thighs firmly as he played with your entrance, the feeling of his tip brushing past your pussy sent shivers down your spine. He leaned close to your ear and whispered, "I am going to pump this soaking little hole of yours until it remembers the shape of my cock." His words were enough to make your head spin, you knew how rough he could get...and how merciless he was. Nikolais eyes darted down as your legs trembled slightly. "Aww, I haven't even put the tip in and you're already trembling? Are you trembling out of excitement? Are you that needy and desperate to have my big cock tear you apart?". Without giving you a chance to reply, he slammed himself right in. Your eyes shot open, a loud cry left your lips as your hands gripped onto his back for some sort of support.

Tears filled your eyes while Nikolai stared down at you, a sadistic grin plastered on his pale features. "Is it too much for you? Aw, is my thick cock too much for your small cunt to handle?", He gripped your thighs apart. "Too" thrust "fucking" thrust "bad" thrust "princess~". You groaned and whined as Nikolai practically used you like a flesh light, weakly scratching his back as he rammed himself into you. He grinned as he saw your eyes lose focus, he pressed his large body onto yours, positioning you in a mating press. Being able to fully trap your body under his turned him on even more. Your tits bounced as you take the full length of his cock which dissapeared deep inside you with every thrust, hitting your deepest pleasure points.

The bed creaked as his rough movements continued. Nikolai leaned down and attacked your neck with kisses and bites, claiming your sweet body as his. “Thats it baby, shh…you’re doing such a fine job taking my cock. Does it feel good? Do you like the fact I can just grab your body and fuck you into the mattress?”, he sung praises into your ear as he thrusted. His pace was quick as his balls slapped against your rear. “Do you like this pace?”, he slowed down, “or do you like deep slow fucking thrusts into your pussy?”. You squirmed at his movements…you couldn’t take it any longer, it all felt so overwhelming. He smirked and kissed your lips as muffled moans left you. “Oh god, princess…your cunt is perfect, so tight- it's like you never want me to pull out”, he growled and clenched his teeth. Your pussy was squeezing his cock immensely, making him twitch and throb inside you even more. He couldn’t get enough…he was completely addicted to you. Your mind was utterly screwed…Nikolai tapped your cheek to try to snap you back into the moment. “Come on darling…Take it-“ Nikolai grabbed your cheeks to make you meet his gaze. “Say you want me, say you love it when i use you like this, like the nasty little whore you are", he slapped your thigh. "Come on bitch, let the neighbors hear you, let them know who gets to fuck you every night.”

You couldn’t muster up any words, only incomprehensible slurs and cries left your mouth. “You look marvelous like this, completely submissive under me as you drench my cock with your juices…”, he laughed at your weak state. He leaned down and whispered into your neck, “This needy little pussy is mine, and this rock hard cock is yours…all yours, my pretty little thing…”

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This has been in my drafts for a while- I took a 2 month break off Tumblr and I am sincerely sorry for the delays and slow posting (work is truly beating my ass-). I was honestly baffled by the amount of comments, new followers and likes I received while I was away. It truly warms my heart to see so many people like my writings and stories. With that being said, I am indeed back now, ready and eager as ever to finish up my requests!! As always, I hope you all liked this sort of rushed one-shot request, I love you all so much and thank you!! <3

[littleplantfreak]

Down to my level

Headcanons Ft. Umemiya Hajime, and Togame Jo

These guys are 6'2 and I think 6'1 respectively so have some writing about being shorter than them cause I'm 5'7ish and wanna climb them like a tree literally. Some ended up not being about height because i got off track thinking about Ume's arms //shrugs

Umemiya Hajime

Loves ruffling hair and he thinks it's endearing when you try to do it yourself to him. Catch him while hes squatting in the garden for perfect ruffling opportunities. (maybe a smooch or two as well)

He will seat you on things when he's kissing you so he doesn't get a cramp in his neck, or better yet just wrap your legs around his waist and he'll hold you up. Give those big arms of his a workout, he'll be more than happy to hold you.

Can't help but grab things for you if they're too high. If you have a problem with that he makes sure to have a step stool. (Just stop putting things so high? Nah he thinks it's cute when you're on your tip toes)

King of carrying - once again he is a big guy so he can do princess carries, piggybacks, fireman's carry, you name it. He's even tried carrying you under his arm like a football though it's not the cutest carry to be in.

He's easy to pick out in a crowd even if he didn't have white hair so you don't really have to worry about losing him.

Blocks out the sun really well or if you're hiding from someone you can basically disappear behind him.

His height also helps in games of chicken fights when you're in the pool or at the beach. Sturdy af AND tall? Y'all are unstoppable no matter how short you are.

"How's the weather up there?"

"Oh! Wanna find out?" Before you can answer he's wiping his hands off and scooping you up effortlessly, arms looped around your waist. Hands resting on his shoulders, you're a few inches taller than him like this. "What do you think?"

"Crystal clear skies...approximately 76 degrees fahrenheit and," you lick the tip of your pointer finger, sticking it out, "wind is blowing from the west. Not to mention the scenery up here is so much prettier than down there." He puffs out a laugh when you gaze at him a little lovestruck as you say the last part.

"You think I'm pretty?" he whispers, looking up at you for once.

"Illegally so." Your answer is so serious it's got his heartbeat taking off and he couldn't fight the smile if he tried.

"Y'know my normal weather man told me the exact same thing this morning!"

"So he's my competition?" You huff and giving him a pat on the arm signalling for him to put you down. Instead, he lowers you just enough so you're eye level with him, noses brushing lightly. Being this close you can smell the dirt from his gardening and the lingering of his minty shampoo from earlier this morning.

"You win every time sweetheart."

Togame Jo

Uses his height for good - usually. Kisses the top of you're head when you aren't paying attention to him.

If you're a brat he'll hold something you want just high enough for you to start jumping for it (thats the evil). He's impossible to knock down or and weighing his arm down to grab it doesnt work either. If Choji's around you can enlist his help in getting it since his jumps are always impressive. He accepts payment in candy though.

Also a carrier. He likes piggybacking you places the best. Especially in the winter cause you're extra toasty.

He's good at typing hair up and can help whenever you have a bad hair day. He's got a full view so he'll fix it as soon as its messed up.

loves being dragged down by his shirt to be kissed. He wears that gi sometimes though I don't know if thats the correct name for what he wears. In jiu jitsu its really solid and tough near the neck areas so you can pull and maneuver you're partner around? In any case when I see him wearing it I just wanna cross collar grip it and drag him on the floor (lovingly I swear) (I think its a gi?? I know he wears monks clothes so they might just be really similar)

You are not in a good mood. Togame's holding the last strawberry ramune over your head with a small frown and refuses to give it back. If anything you should be the one frowning. Sure you snapped at him because you were a bit grumpy, and it wasn't even his fault but you're tired, it's raining, and thats the last strawberry ramune.

"All ya gotta say is 'sorry' doll. I'll even open it for you if you want." he drawls slow as ever.

"I can get it," the words are punctuated by small hops and desperate grabs at air. You're even more winded than before and Togame's just deciding whether he should give in when Choji rounds the corner. A small gasp as a light bulb goes off in your head seeing Shishitoren's leader. "Choji I CHOOSE YOU!" You yell, pointing straight at the drink being held hostage. He moves before any thought can cross his mind as he makes a high jump between the you and Togame, successfully grabbing your prize. As he's handing you the ramune, you root around your hoodie pocket for the last few candies and trade him.

"Nice doing business with you! That wasn't very nice though Kame-chan" Choji chirps and waves before being lured away by the sounds of the other members laughing and talking about going out for karaoke.

There's a moment of quiet before you peek to the side to stare at your boyfriend. You realize you haven't been nice either and bite the bullet. Roll the ramune over in your hands, you look down at your feet.

"I'm sorry I've been grumpy at you. Think I'm just tired. 's no excuse but-" The drink is gone, being popped open by deft hands before Togame gives it back with a silent nod.

"There's a couch in one of the rooms down the hall. Want me to carry you?"

"You gonna lay with me?"

"That's the plan, yeah." Whether it's from the weather or from fighting with you, you can tell he's tired too.

"Good. And yes please." Your voice is soft as you reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"There's my sweet girl," he grunts, hoisting you up in a princess carry and making his way to one of the back rooms further from the noise of the other boys in the theater.

[minoment]

I saw your Older! Reader and raise you this: Reader that is the youngest. Gen Z little shit who's everyone's little sibling.

(My explanation for how someone so young got on is just that they're a genius. Maybe a tech wiz or engineer or naturally talented sniper idk)

Absolutely oml-

FIRST OFF.. You and Gaz, instantly platonic soulmates..

You're like 18/19 and just enrolled, but because of your skill Price put you in 141.

You and Gaz are complete trouble-makers. Prank wars, running around, yelling at 3am, you name it. Neither of you can cook for shit either. Both of you make fun of Soap and Ghost. You guys both know the Gen-Z slang and constantly make 'your mom' jokes.

Speaking of which, you have NO FEAR. Like, none. You will outright mock Soap's accent and do that annoying little copying/echo thing until Soap has to walk away and take deep breaths. You've probably asked him to have a bath with you and then ask "why not, you're Soap aren't you?" when he refuses. It was the first time anyone had heard Ghost laugh.

You probably call Ghost 'babygirl' and make fun of him for being British (even if you are British yourself).

You make fun of Soap and Alejandro for not being 6'+ but then ask them to teach you curses and swear words in Spanish and Gaelic.

Laswell LOVES you. Like she automatically becomes your mom. You keep 141 on their toes and she loves that.

Price is like your uncle. You can straight up bully him and he will find it absolutely endearing. You make fun of his moustache a lot, I don't make the rules.

Rudy and Roach get very overwhelmed by you, but they love you to the ends of the earth like the perfect older brother figures they are. They probably are the ones who check in with you three times a day and check if you've eaten and drunk enough water.

Hahahaah.. König... he is terrified of you. You never call him by his name. It's always "tree", "beanpole", "massive bratwurst", or "heffalump" (from Winnie the Pooh). He doesn't know what a heffalump is but it scares him. You're also constantly asking him why he's so tall and asking if you can sit on his shoulders when you're practicing your sniper shots.

That conversation usually goes like this:

Y/N: "Oi heffalump.. sit for a minute while I get up.."

König: "E-eh?! What are you doing?"

Y/N: "I need some height to be able to see Soap's silly little mohawk across the training ground. SIT STILL!"

Soap: across the coms "MY MOHAWK IS BEAUTIFUL.."

Ghost: "Johnny shut the fuck up they can see you.."

Y/N: shoots airsoft bullet and hits Soaps target

Everyone: ...

Y/N: "YES! KISS MY ASS... Thanks bratwurst.." gets off of König's shoulders

Gaz and Price: on the floor, laughing

Ghost: pissed

Soap: insulted

König: absolutely baffled

Y/N after terrorizing the whole team ^

i wrote this on 2 hours of sleep, i apologize for the cringe and incoherency-

[ghostinthegallery]

I'm sorry, of course, you've probably been asked similar questions more than once, but... Could you tell the height (even approximate based on the facts) of many famous Necrons? Yes, I have already found a similar post, but with two specific ones, from you, but I'm afraid I won't be able to find it right away... I hope it won't bother you.. ;^;

Alright let's go! I have apparently become an expert on one thing and that is apparently the relative heights of fictional robots from space.

First, some notes on methodology. I am going mostly based off of models, which means I cannot give precise answers about characters who don't have updated models as the old resin ones aren't in the correct scale. Also some characters don't have models so...vibes I guess.

I have also included a Standard Reference Marine (SRM) for scale. Primaris marines are about 8 ft tall give or take (they can apparently get up to 10 ft but my guess is that's mostly named characters not my generic lil dude here).

A few rules of thumb

Necrons are taller than humans, including marines

Crypteks are taller than lords, although this is variable as crypteks are usually adept at manipulating living metal which lets them adjust their forms

Vibes reign supreme

So with all that in mind here is my line up

In order from shortest to tallest we have:

Standard Reference Marine

Overlord

Plasmancer

Chronomancer

Orikan

Imotekh

Szeras

Yes I beefed up Imotekh's base, but that puts him about on the same level as Orikan with his floating. It evens out.

A closer image of the SRM and the crypteks:

Look at this little guy.

SRM next to Imotekh:

And because I am devoted, here is the Silent King himself (not on a base sorry)

As you can see, Szarekh is taller than Imotekh, so put him between Imotekh and Szeras in the lineup.

Now with these references we can roughly estimate the heights of the named necrons if we assume that Trazyn, Anrakyr, Oltyx, and Zahndrekh are all around the height of an overlord (probably taller as they have Named Character Privilege). Yenekh is specifically described by Oltyx as Tall so he's probably taller. Same with Zultanekh. Obyron should be based on a lychguard but no he's a big lad because I say so, vibes reign supreme.

Drum roll please!!

Necron Character Height Master List

Zahndrekh- 9 ft (he's a short king to me)

Anrakyr and Oltyx- 10 ft

Trazyn and Yenekh- 10.5 ft (Trazyn gets an extra half foot for the hood)

Orikan and Obyron - 11 ft

Imotekh and Zultanekh- 11.5 ft

Szarekh- 12 ft. (13 with the crown)

Szeras- big. He's just big okay

There we go! Hope this helps ❤️

P.S. While we have clearly determined Szarekh is taller than Imotekh, I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that Imotekh has bigger tits. I checked. It wasn't close.

[whichcouldmeannothing]

'twas a night in eaden

hello! i am ur portal secret santa @actuallykiwi! im a massive chelley fan and also a girl with a poor immune system so this is coming to you a little later than it should, really sorry for that, but i hope u had a happy new year and you enjoy this little ficlet! merry holidays! (@portal-secret-santa)

The night before Christmas, all throughout the house, not a sound could be heard, not even from a mouse. Christmas was more of a gift-giving family thing in Eaden. Maybe when aliens invade the earth and live among us, it's difficult to get into organized religion.

But kids all throughout the town would be falling asleep in front of their couches, with plates of cookies for Santa and the headcrab bites for his Vortigaunt helpers. Stockings would be hung up on fireplaces, and trees would still be lit. And for Chell's case, her strong cactus with a ribbon tied around it would have a candle lit in front of it. Holidays, as good as they were for business, were never really Chell's thing. Her plan was to sleep off tonight, make something delicious tomorrow for them both and stay cozy inside.

And then something cursed in her front porch.

"Bloody- You don't have to lick me! I'm on your side!"

Chell bolts awake. She runs downstairs and checks the window.

Wheatley, bless his heart, has been trying his absolute best to assimilate now that he is just like everyone else. He's been off having mini-adventures with Garett for a month now and she had thought they were harmless. But it is harming her ability to sleep. Partly because he's shouting from the front porch, and also because she's gotten used to sleeping beside him, and it's harder to go back to sleep without him.

She looks out and there the tall man is. He's bundled in a big worn blue parka and he's talking to a man wearing a brown coat. The snow falls down softly on them, and the large red sack they seem to be lugging. She trusts Wheatley, life and soul, but. It's a really big bag.

She grabs her coat from the rack, a red number she thrifted and ties a ponytail. She breathes a little harder just to psych herself up. She creaks open the door and stiffens against the cold.

"I don't understand why you have to bring him, he's so big and loud, it isn't the most, what's the word, incognito, isn't he?" Wheatley says as the shaggy dog keeps rubbing its nose against his pant leg.

"I owe a favour, and Duke needs to walk." Garret's familiar voice stated. Chell always thought that despite Wheatley's height, Garret was always his older brother type.

"Yes, but." Duke started to circle a patch of snow. "What is he doing, is he contacting someone? Crop circles are real, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but maybe don't-"

"Something's coming out! What a-" The smell must hit him there because he has a full-body spasm trying to escape. "THAT IS HORRIBLE!"

"You are going to wake up the children!" Garret scolds, a plastic bag already covering his hand.

"This is a nightmare!" He drags the sack up her porch, walking backwards. His lean, beanpole figure cannot handle the heavy thing he seems to be carrying. She exits the door and puts her hands on his arms, helping him pull his bag.

"What the-" He turns around and his face breaks into a surprised smile. "You! You should be asleep, did I wake you? That is my fault, but it is also that dog's fault, more his honestly, but you know. Maybe we could share blame, a sixty forty.'

She places an ungloved hand on the sack and looks back at him.

"That was- you were supposed to be surprised! We had this idea, me and Garret, the one cleaning right now. He was telling me about this guy who used to give gifts to kids every Christmas, but he usually stops visiting when the kids get too old, which is a bummer, and he also uses aliens? Good man." Chell takes the sack, heavy thing it is, and Wheatley continues talking gesturing emphatically with his hand.

"So if he doesn't come by often, I decided to help the big man, and we've been making tiny little presents for the children! It's brilliant! It's a lot of work, and I think I've burnt myself making toys a lot but it's been pretty good and everything-"

"Wheatley!" Garret calls, poop cleaned and tied away in a bag.

"Right, one moment!" Wheatley looks adorable. The cold paints his cheeks a soft pink, and the fur from his collar tickles his cheek a little. His clothes, a sweater and basic pants were lightly covered with snow and dust in equal parts. His glasses were stationary on his face, while everything else seemed to be in constant motion. He smiled when he talked too, showing his enthusiasm in his teeth.

"I made something for you. Some cultures actually trade gifts on Christmas Eve, which is tonight, so let me just," he starts digging in the sack. "I thought you wouldn't want something festive and decorative, it had to be useful, but something you wouldn't already just buy, which makes you really tricky to buy things for but ah! I found it!" He pulls out two boxes, both horrendously wrapped.

"Haven't gotten the folding thing down just right, but open the big one and ta-da!" He shakes his hands in a facsimile of jazz hands.

They're cookie cutters for gingerbread. One could think they were bought, if it weren't for the wonkiness in the arms of the people, and how there was a dog cutter that looked just like the shaggy dog getting his butt wiped, or a satellite-looking cutter.

"This is lovely," she strokes his cheek. "Thank you, Wheatley."

"Wait! I have one more. It was my first try to do something with metal, so it's really simple, but you might like it and I want to give you something you might, I don't know, people said they give jewellery so I-"

She opened the second smaller box and pulled out a long gold chain, with a circle ring in the middle. It seemed to glint in the moon light,.

"He taught me how to make it gold with electricity! The human mind! It's-"

She pulls him in for a kiss. She can never get tired of kissing him. The second of surprise, and then enthusiastic reciprocation.

"Wonderful." He finishes when she pulls away.

"I have mistletoe at home," she says, and Wheatley's investigation into Christmas traditions seems to have informed him well because his ears turn pinker than they already are.

"Got to deliver those gifts tonight!" Garrett calls. Chell gives him one quick kiss on the cheek and helps him carry the gifts down.

"We can handle it from here. Happy Christmas, Chell!" Garret greets, as Duke starts pulling him away.

"And a good night!" Wheatley bids. Garret gave a whistle, and they walked away, ready to spread more holiday cheer.

[meatriarchived]

just as a small bit of heads up when it comes to interacting with both my killer / aggressive type muses and my survivor / victim type muses:

your muses can absolutely attempt to or successfully harm my muses. if they are in the middle of a struggle, they are being attacked or mine are grabbing at your muse? your muse can respond in turn how you see fit! i do not mind at all c:

----- luda mae isn't exactly physically strong anymore due to her age; however - she has blood on her hands as well, not nearly as much as charlie or thomas but she is not above using her age and perceived frailty because of it to her advantage. ----- birdie, wes, maria, my reagents, night hunter/don, vincent, and the legion, all of them your muse is fully okay to go after, grab, maim, throw shit at, lift off the ground, throw them, pull on their hair, you name it - if its something your muse realistically should do during struggles and fights and such, yours can harm my muses. ----- also, technically speaking? for my survivor / victim muses, in terms of one-shot interactions ( ie. responding to an inbox thing from me ) your killer muses are welcome to kill them for those brief interactions. if its easier to imagine: think of it in similar terms to the entity putting survivors through trials only for them to in essence "revive" and be completely fine for the next. c: i usually treat my inbox content as one-off pieces. they aren't necessarily meant to be a part of the muses' overall stories by default. so, if your killer muse wants to kill one of mine in an ask response? go for it! if my muse is being mouthy to your killer and they reasonably get ticked about it and wanna teach them a lesson? go. for. it. ----- otherwise, i dont plan on killing off any of my muses for realsies and anything other than one-shot inbox things? don't just outright kill my muses without warning or talk. :)

you can always shoot me any questions or concerns in regards to this :)

the ONLY muse i would say that high chances are, those things won't quite be as effective would literally be with thomas.

granted i'm not too sure exactly what height / weight that bubba stands at. while he is a pretty stocky guy, he also doesn't look nearly as beefy as thomas does. thomas is portrayed being as physically intimidating as possible. I write thomas as being 6 feet 9 inches tall. he's a bit of a heavy set guy. and he is built quite literally like a brick and cement building. he isn't just strong - he is CONSISTENT HARD LABOUR strong. his muscle tone is functional, not just for show so to speak. while for sure, stabbing at him, knocking things over in front of him to cut his path, etc. will slow him down / break his attention on who he's after? don't mistake his size for incapability to catch up real quick. hes like a rabid dog - poke at him long enough to agitate and he is a bullet train coming right at you. and just because hes often got his hands full by his chainsaw, doesn't mean he's useless without it. i'd wager that being literally pummeled to death by a man his size may be worse than a "quick" death by chainsaw blades to the face.

so what i mean is: your muse ABSOLUTELY CAN attempt to attack thomas as well! :) i would just say that it may not go nearly as well as hoped dsfjksa

( this is NOT to say however that i will disregard any discomfort when it comes to your muses being hurt / attacked btw. when i write any sort of altercation that may result in bodily harm, i auto-default to beginning an action and allowing the response to be either left open-ended for a brief interaction, or for you to decide your muses' next move / how they dodge it / etc. ya'll are always welcome to shoot me an im or make note of it in the tags or ask etc to ask about any of what i've spoken about here c: )

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS Fall - Chapter 12 - Part 1

BOOK TWO: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Noah Wright

I kissed below my boyfriend's ear then whispered 'more of a shout-whisper considering the chatter of the crowd and the bumping music' in Sam's ear...

"Don't you want everyone to know that you're mine?"

But, I never got his answer because Ciera came up to us.

"Oh, am I interrupting?"

I looked up from Sam to face Ciera, her costume was definitely fitting for her.

Tomb Raider, light grey crop top and very short, shorts.

Black straps around her thighs up with' I was pretty sure' a real knife strapped to it.

She wore black, leather, fingerless gloves and her black Doc Martins.

She had a BB gun strapped to her hip.

"You are interrupting," I confirmed dryly.

"Hmm, really? 'Cause it's seemed like you were harassing this grossly adorable Dalmatian."

She gave Sam a wink before looking back at me with her bored eyes.

Ciera checked out my outfit.

"Are you... Magic Mike?" she deadpanned.

Sam laughed.

"I like her."

I turned to him,

"Don't be fooled," then I glared at her harmlessly.

"She's evil."

"Ouch, Noah," she said but didn't seem the least offended.

"But we even shared a meal together."

"Ahahaha. Wait, what?" Sam questioned, uncomfortably.

I rolled my eyes at Ciera.

"What Ciera... this is Ciera, by the way..."

I forgot I hadn't introduced her yet.

"What she means by 'sharing a meal' is her taking a bite of my food without my permission," I explained and prayed to a God I didn't believe in, that Sam didn't freak out over what Ciera did.

But luckily, Sam only sighed in relief.

"Oh, okay."

"Don't worry, skyscrapers aren't my type," Ciera told Sam, mocking my height.

Then to both of us, she said...

"We're all smoking in the garage, come on," and she turned around, walking away from us.

"Can we just dance?" Sam asked me but his eyes were pleading for us to to stay put.

I grabbed his hand, lacing our fingers together.

"Don't you want to meet the people I hang out with and talk about?" I asked him, tugging him with me to follow Ciera.

"Yeah okay," Sam agreed and on our way to the supposed garage, Sam stepped away from me, into the kitchen to grab himself another cup of that strong punch.

"Pace yourself," I told him but I hoped he also heard my warning.

I didn't want to deal with his jealousy shit that night.

Or to get puked on, Sam was notorious for that.

Ciera guided us to a mud room then led to a grey door that I thought might've been a bright white at some point in a past time.

She opened the door and immediately an earthy and almost musky smell wafted into my nose.

I quite liked the smell of weed being I smoke it a lot.

Sam on the other hand, scrunched up his nose in distaste.

I gave his hand a short squeeze, hoping he knows how grateful I am that he was there with me.

The gang... Jude, Kyle, Alice and Dinah... were in the garage along with a guy I didn't recognize.

The garage was set up for the perfect hang out and they seemed to keep that space only for their inner circle.

A tall refrigerator stood against the back wall.

Off to the side was a long plastic table that seemed to be set up for beer pong.

There was numerous old rugs overlapping each other that took over most of the concrete floor but there was one big burgundy rug that laid in the middle with its bohemian style.

A beige couch sitting on top of that burgundy rug along with a futon couch next to it.

A large beanbag chair was also in the mix of seating arrangements the Kyle was plopped down on.

Ciera went over towards the fridge while speaking...

"Look who I found," to the group.

She pulled out a beer before closing the fridge.

They all gave their version of a greeting to Sam and myself.

One greeting louder than the others.

"Sam. Omg," Dinah exclaimed.

Her costume matched Jude's as she was an Angel, sort of.

She had a white, flowy lingerie on with a halo attached to a head band.

Her usual straight hair was curled with some tinsel streaming through.

"I'm so glad you're here, Noah said you might not come," she pulled Sam and I into a hug.

She reeked of marijuana and alcohol.

She pulled back from us.

"Wow, you guys look adorable. Fireman and his Dalmatian? That's clever," she complimented us with a wide grin.

Dinah looked like she was about to topple over, she was definitely drunk.

Sam shyly said...

"Thank you, it was my idea," as I pulled him with me and took a seat on the futon.

Jude to my left and my boyfriend on my right.

Jude was taking a long hit from a large, glass bong before he offered it to me, blowing out smoke.

Sam placed his hand on my arm when I grabbed the bong...

"Maybe you shouldn't get high, you're driving."

"Ah, the DD, that's right," Jude recalled then waved off Sam's concern.

"He'll be fine. If anything, I'm more focused when I'm driving high."

The group chuckled and most of them agreed, except for Alice who said...

"No way, I'm too paranoid about getting pulled over when I'm high."

Sam gave me his pleading, puppy eyes again.

"It'll be okay," I assured him in a low voice so that others didn't hear.

"We're gonna be here a few hours anyway, so I'll be sobered up by the time we leave."

Sam didn't comment, so I leaned forward to grab one of the multiple lighters off the wooden coffee table that stood in the middle of all the seats.

The faded circles from past cup placements had me thinking the table was older than I was.

There was also an ashtray with quite a bit of cigarette buds smooshed in there and I wondered who smoked cigarettes until I looked over and saw Ciera.

She was standing close to the garage door that was open a quarter of the way to let the October chilled air in.

She had a cigarette hanging from her lips.

Sam was already chatting it up with Alice who showed up as Bob Ross to the party, with a big fake, curly afro.

They seemed to be talking about something LGBTQ+ related and I heard her mention that she was pan sexual.

I was about to ask what the hell that was when someone caught my eye and I think also Sam's eye as he gave me a look and I shrugged.

What we saw was Dinah making out with that random guy I didn't recognize earlier.

I looked over at Jude who was talking to Kyle while Kyle rolled up a joint.

I nudged Jude with my elbow.

When he looked at me, I nodded towards Dinah in question.

He understood as he shrugged.

"She's a big girl, she can handle herself."

"Aren't you two dating?" I asked.

"We are but we both do our own thing, ya' know?"

No, I didn't know because I couldn't imagine being in an open relationship.

Not only would I get stupid jealous and angry at someone even flirting with Sam, there was also the risk of STDs. 

So all I responded with was,,,

"Hmm," and I took another hit from the bong as I watched Dinah grab the guy she was kissing and they both stumble back into the house.

"I'm gonna play foosball with Alice," Sam told me as he stood up.

He dropped his red solo cup on the table which caused it to tip over but no alcohol spilled out because it was empty.

Damn, he must've chugged that punch.

Jeez, did he know the definition of 'pace yourself'?

Before Sam went to the foosball table, which I had just then realized was in the back corner, he walked to the fridge and opened it.

Sam grabbed two Truly's then met Alice at the game table and handed her one.

She said something I couldn't hear and Sam laughed which made me smile.

I didn't care anymore if he drank, I just wanted him to have a good time.

"I'm gonna go find the bathroom," I said, suddenly having the urge to pee, as I stood up.

I glanced at Sam and thought about telling him but then I thought he'd probably want to stick by my side, so I decided not to mention it.

He'd be fine for a moment while I was gone, it wasn't going to take long.

[meatriarch]

just as a small bit of heads up when it comes to interacting:

your muses can absolutely attempt to or successfully harm my muses. if they are in the middle of a struggle, they are being attacked or mine are grabbing at your muse? your muse can respond in turn how you see fit! i do not mind at all c:

----- luda mae isn't exactly physically strong anymore due to her age; however - she has blood on her hands as well, not nearly as much as charlie or thomas but she is not above using her age and perceived frailty because of it to her advantage. ----- birdie, pepper, maria, ana, danny, nancy etc, all of them your muse is fully okay to go after, grab, maim, throw shit at, lift off the ground, throw them, pull on their hair, you name it - if its something your muse realistically should do during struggles and fights and such, yours can harm my muses. ----- also, technically speaking? for my survivor / victim muses, in terms of one-shot interactions ( ie. responding to an inbox thing from me ) your killer muses are welcome to kill them for those brief interactions. if its easier to imagine: think of it in similar terms to the entity putting survivors through trials only for them to in essence "revive" and be completely fine for the next. c: i usually treat my inbox content as one-off pieces. they aren't necessarily meant to be a part of the muses' overall stories by default. so, if your killer muse wants to kill one of mine in an ask response? go for it! if my muse is being mouthy to your killer and they reasonably get ticked about it and wanna teach them a lesson? go. for. it. ----- otherwise, i dont plan on killing off any of my muses for realsies and anything other than one-shot inbox things? don't just outright kill my muses without warning or talk. :)

you can always shoot me any questions or concerns in regards to this :)

the ONLY muse i would say that high chances are, those things won't quite be as effective would literally be with thomas.

granted i'm not too sure exactly what height / weight that bubba stands at. while he is a pretty stocky guy, he also doesn't look nearly as beefy as thomas does. thomas is portrayed being as physically intimidating as possible. I write thomas as being 6 feet 9 inches tall. he's a bit of a heavy set guy. and he is built quite literally like a brick and cement building. he isn't just strong - he is CONSISTENT HARD LABOUR strong. his muscle tone is functional, not just for show so to speak. while for sure, stabbing at him, knocking things over in front of him to cut his path, etc. will slow him down / break his attention on who he's after? don't mistake his size for incapability to catch up real quick. hes like a rabid dog - poke at him long enough to agitate and he is a bullet train coming right at you. and just because hes often got his hands full by his chainsaw, doesn't mean he's useless without it. i'd wager that being literally pummeled to death by a man his size may be worse than a "quick" death by chainsaw blades to the face.

so what i mean is: your muse ABSOLUTELY CAN attempt to attack thomas as well! :) i would just say that it may not go nearly as well as hoped dsfjksa

( this is NOT to say however that i will disregard any discomfort when it comes to your muses being hurt / attacked btw. when i write any sort of altercation that may result in bodily harm, i auto-default to beginning an action and allowing the response to be either left open-ended for a brief interaction, or for you to decide your muses' next move / how they dodge it / etc. ya'll are always welcome to shoot me an im or make note of it in the tags or ask etc to ask about any of what i've spoken about here c: )

[goblinselfshippr]

2/2 of me projecting onto a game and character that really isnt that deep (it is to ME) i think this is way longer than the first sorry. (Part 1 here)

PS- if it isn't clear at this point I'm saying that wizard training causes c-ptsd because that cannot be good for your health. So "Delusion" being a prerequisite to Conjuring (I have no idea if this is a "correct" term, I personally take no offense to it, but lmk if you do, I guess). Some evidence: you can summon minions to help fight with you if you choose- which was the main reason I kept Myth when I took the personality quiz instead of switching to Ice (previously my fave school). Now these minions are common enemies in the game like haunted dolls, trolls, and Cyclops (does that have a plural?? Idk) with one main difference: the ones you summon look different from the actual enemies. Most notable is that the minions aren't as big as the actual enemies. There are slight color differences too, but their height is way more noticeable. Cyclops are usually like 2 players tall, but Cyclops Minions are maybe 1.3 players tall.

And yeah yeah yeah its to differentiate between the spells. Shut up. We are choosing to ignore reality. ANYWAY.

Conjuration is described as "where shadowy forms of thought become real" and "when imagination becomes too fanciful and whimsical these dreams take on life and run loose." SO LIKE. All the Myth bosses and allies must've been somebody's imaginary friends at one time. It would explain why there are bosses or characters with familiar names but don't quite fit their tales- for example, Apollo is a rooster who fucks your shit UP.

Yes I swear we are coming back around to Cyrus, I can't control how my brain categorizes things. There's not a lot said about his family other than they aren't really there. He's left alone from presumably a young age because his father is some big name battlemage, there's zero mention of a mother figure, and his brother would rather play in a graveyard (also convinced Cyrus was afraid of his own shadow as a kid bc I wouldn't put it past Mal to actually summon a demon under his bed). He hides in his room and either paints his daydreams or reads fantasy novels.

Omg he just like me fr except instead of painting I write fanfic that no one ever reads. It’s for my eyes only

From my own experience, you get lonely and bored, and you want friends, but never learn. And his father doesn't sound like the most supportive guy in the world- he seems kind of salty that neither of his kids want to practice Pyromancy like him. So poor Cy was probably just dismissed and ignored and had to go back to his sanctuary.

Cyrus doesn't actually become interested in any sort of spell casting until he's like 18-19, and Mal gets his ass kicked by a Conjurer. Bro really said "damn I can make my daydreams fight for me?" And just did that for the rest of his life, LOL. Wish that were me.

Cyrus is (admittedly) not the best teacher. Like, yeah, he's a dick but most people can think of at least one teacher in their life that everyone called an asshole that they eventually grew to appreciate even if it wasn't personally true. Cyrus, on the other hand, straight up begs you to leave him alone (same). Like the only time he speaks to you is when you irritate him enough or he suddenly remembers you exist. And I'm pretty sure at one point he even tells you he forgot you were in his class. -1000/10 teacher. Problematic fave. I would either hate him or only like him because he leaves me the hell alone. So what is he doing if not dutifully teaching his students?

According to his about page, enjoying the quiet or researching. Doubt. But then, daydreaming until you summon something could likely count as research for Myth. So yeah I think the reason why he's a massive douchebag is because he found a way to profit off his maladaptive daydreaming, and the only downside is he has to tell a couple of kids to scram every now and then. I guess I could have just lead with that. Rip.

[hanazou]

𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖.

(while being shorter than him)

— a chaos of fun!

Word count : 1.5K

Shelf : Hardback

Genre : Romance and fluff, slight crack

Note : Sorry, anon! There was technical issue so I have to post this without your ask! I hope these are detailed enough to your expectations? I wrote more than I expected I would. Once again, thank you to the-foreigner for helping me figure out the tags!

Please enjoy!

 Where have you been all his life?

To say that Chuuya would simply be attracted to you because of your height sounds shallow, so let me phrase it this way; Chuuya is so used to having look up to people since many are taller than him all his life, both men and women, so it kind of does something different to his psyche when he sees you, being shorter than him.

Not to sound stereotypical but it's a given instinct that when you see someone shorter than you, you get the impression that they're cute and it triggers your protective instinct, right? This is what Chuuya feels about you. And since this sensation is new to him, he cherishes it.

Also, since Chuuya leans more towards masculinity, in your relationship with him, you're making him feel more manly. To speak a bit bluntly and in a nutshell, you boost his ego.

You make him feel even more confident and comfortable with himself. It's not that he wasn't confident before he dates you, you're just making him bolder with more sense of control and masculinity, making him feel validated. More dominant and more alpha.

But what does all of that mean, you ask? Here's the highlight of this post; Chuuya will pamper you as your prince charming while simultaneously being your playmate. Perfectly balanced.

Why? Because seeing you being petite, smaller than him, makes you appear as someone he should protect, but the romance doesn't replace the fun. When it comes to being Chuuya's darling, things never get overly cheesy. Yes he can be romantic (he is), but he's not the type to use sweet talks 24/7. He uses his "rough" ways to communicate his romanticism, one of them being your equal, hence the "playmate" dynamic.

Chuuya tells himself that you're his cute, little darling. He will say this to you straightforwardly except the "cute" part. If he casually and accidentally calls you cute from a slip of his tongue, you can definitely tease him back to get even.

He can be the big spoon and the "top" of your relationship, but he will be a switch if he's feeling sluggish. Being the "lead" sometimes makes him need a break, not from you, but from the energy it takes. Chuuya is an emotional guy and can be downright hysterical, and that takes energy, so he will turn to you for solace when he's worn out. To achieve that, Chuuya will utilize your height to bury his face into your neck or lean his forehead on your shoulder when work wears him down.

"Stay like this for a while," His voice blurs into mutters with his face on your shoulder. "Just three minutes."

Pat his head. Do it.

If you're the one feeling low, just put your head against his chest when you're both standing. Chuuya will be confused at first, but he'll silently ruffle your hair with your forehead still against his chest. It will be calming, I promise you.

Whether you're Port Mafia or a regular civilian (I find it easier for him to date someone from the PM though), you can count on Chuuya to be protective. He's already a protective guy by nature but when he sees you, his shorter darling, anywhere close to danger, that protective instinct doubles or even triples.

In fact, he wants you to rely on him. It's not that he wants you to be dependent—Chuuya just wants you to know that he always has your back. He's the combination of loyal and protective, so he wants to prove those qualities he takes pride in to you. Trust is a strong element for him, and by letting him know you count on him, you’re already securing his utmost loyalty and love.

One of the highlights of this post is his hat. You're shorter than him and it makes it easier for Chuuya to just plop his hat on your head on random occasions. No words, no thoughts, just putting his hat on you. It's the subconscious acts of love like this that makes him feel whole with you.

Kouyou will like you for colouring Chuuya's life. She'll make comments about how you both are fun to watch at, especially when you're both doing your silly dating antics, such as "My, my, energetic as always, aren't you both?"

Speaking of dating antics--Emotional maturity? We don't know her.

Doesn’t matter if you're only 2 cm or maybe 10 cm shorter than him. He will take any height advantage and have fun with it. A little too much, in fact.

Chuuya is not above using his ability to put objects in places he knows you can't reach but is close enough for you to struggle, just to watch you squirm. Confidence does things to this man, mischief being one of them. On the instances where you really can't reach up and it's not because of his tricks, something like this is bound to happen ;

"Huh, can't reach the top shelf, can ya? Don't worry, I've got you." He says, chest huffing with pride, before getting a ladder himself.

"...."

Mostly will lift you up to help since he wants to take the small chances to bond with you over simple moments. Short people solidarity. The height boost isn't much since short + short doesn't exactly equate to being tall, but hey, it's the thought and the comedic moments that count.

Speaking of comedic moments;

"Have you reached it yet?!" He asks loudly, craning his head from below you to see upwards. You're sitting on his shoulders and he's making sure he doesn't move around too much, or else you'll fall.

"Just a little bit more—!" You grunt, arm stretched. "Lift me up more, will you? Jump or something!"

"Do you want to fall? Forget it! Just reach higher!

"Maybe I can stand on your shoulders. Hold still--"

"Oi, this vest is 60,000 yen! And this is already the highest I'm lifting you! That's enough, I'll lower you down and just use my ability!"

"No! I'm already grazing it!"

And then you both will proceed to bicker in that weird, eye-catching position, for at least 2 more minutes. It will end if you either jump off him or he floats you down using his ability, and usually it's the latter.

[Sometimes the positions will switch (you lifting him up) but he's a solid 60 kg, it will be a challenge for your muscles and a good workout routine. Good luck getting him to agree to it though.]

[If that happens, chances are your legs will wobble just within seconds from lifting him. Good thing is it increases the humour and mischief in your relationship, downgrade is that it's too silly and stupid to look at to make it feel romantic]

Want to get back at his pranks? Here's a solution. Chuuya will vaporize if you use his clothes. He's taller than you, so let's say his shirt looks like a dress on you.

"W-What do you think you're wearing?!" Is what he shouts, but his flustered face says otherwise. [Bonus: for more critical hit, wear his choker(s). It does ‘things’ to him]

Yeah it's the little things like this that boost his confidence and optimism, and you don't mind him acting like the prince charming in an armour.

If anyone calls you (or even both of you) short, Chuuya will be pissed and defend you and himself since he assumes you also don't like being mocked for your height. He takes it upon himself to "fight" for you too. He has the "we're in this together" mentality.

And so do you. If any Port Mafia's enemies try to waver your confidence or Chuuya's by mocking your heights, it's going to be hell at that point.

If Dazai ever spots you and Chuuya together in public, he will say "Congratulations, Chuuya! You finally found someone shorter to date!" just when Chuuya mumbles "What's that shitty Dazai doing here?" under his breath.

Chuuya will try to kick his face while yelling "Huh?! What'd you just said about us!?"

Don't take what Dazai said personally, he did it to get on Chuuya's nerves, not yours. Instead, why don't you hold Chuuya back so he doesn't chase Dazai?

“Don’t you ever get bored arguing with him?!” You struggle to pull him back. You have to shout to outmatch his shouts.

Chuuya will be interested in height-related shenanigans with you, such as actually reading obviously fake advertisements that promises height growth and asking you if you're interested. He will only do this with you because he knows you won't make silly/berating comments about him. As I've said, trust is the secret ingredient in dating Chuuya.

"Hey, do you think this is real?" He shows you the poster he picked up. The dirt left by his sole on it is still there.

"Chuuya," You try really hard to stop sighing. "At this point, we have to stop lying to ourselves,"

But if the advertisement doesn't sound fake, let's say it utilises supposedly "effective acupuncture techniques", you will lessen the mature act and entertain him a bit.

In short, you and Chuuya will have an energetic and youthful relationship. It doesn't matter where you two are, be it in the cities or the ground zero of battle; if you two are there, people will see one hell of a lively, energetic, short duo.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

[cuppajj]

Uh - dunno if you are still doing the ask game, but I recently made a new OC for my Counterfeit Paradigm AU and was wondering how Drillburst would think of them!

Some information about my (sort of) therapy OC, Silverfall!

He is very, very small. He only goes up to Karma's mid-thigh when it comes to height, and he is a land vehicle of some sort. Very thick, stocky build as well. Lots of round shapes.

Silverfall is a very open individual: warm, and exceptionally patient. If nobody else seems to be listening to you- he probably is. Also, he smiles a lot. It's small and inviting, but suits his face well.

He's not exactly a therapist per-se, but he acts that way a lot around the people he talks to or meets. Maybe he ends up being one later on, I honestly haven't decided lol. He's a really understanding guy, so I could see it being a possibility.

Due to his size, he got ignored a lot when he was younger, which contributed to the listening skills that he has. He's alright with being alone, but he prefers one-on-one convos a lot more.

His size doesn't make him afraid of another bot who's larger than him. Considering that a lot of bots are larger than he is, he's just used to it being a part of his life. It doesn't get in the way of conversations as much anymore, though there are understandably still a few things that might restrict who he talks to. He's a small guy! What else can he say. Most people look right over him.

A few things that he likes are softer, warmer music, and he very much enjoys listening to people sing. Seeing people in their element is always a real treat for him. Oddly enough, he also really loves the smell of lavender and sweeter scents. Okay maybe that's not super odd lol

He doesn't particularly care for bars, but he will go there once and a blue moon with some buddies. Not to drink, just to watch them and be there for them if they need him. Some of the people there get on his nerves or just off-put him a little- mostly because they had so much Engex that they aren't even really conscious anymore.

Alright, to end it off, Silverfall likes places that are open with nice views and are overall a relaxing, serene environment. Think of earth waterfalls or other such areas and you'll get the idea of what he likes. He also likes forests- he thinks that they are really pretty.

ANYWAY sorry that was a lot- and if these aren't open then I'll just keep all this stuff on a google doc for later lol

Have a wonderful day/night!

Drillburst would think he’s pretty neat, once he realizes there’s a bot directly below him (I don’t know how tall Karma is for reference but I’m gonna assume Silver is ~knee height for Drillburst?). He’s always nice to bots that are nice to him, so if they met somewhere like a bar after one of his gigs, he’d be in a good mood and open to talk. Honestly, Silver’s patience would be a nice change of pace from the usual high-energy (and/or heavily intoxicated) bots he usually deals with this time of night, and it’s refreshing! Honestly something they could agree upon XD

the only problem I could see is that Drillburst has a feeling of hesitation/reluctance when it comes to therapy, because he believes he doesn’t need it when he has music as a coping mechanism for his trauma. So unless Silverfall is really, really stealthy about how he gives Drill his advice, any form of therapy-like exchange will make Drill just a little guarded (he doesn’t openly share his trauma either, and he can say something like ‘I don’t think you understand’ to whoever is helping him if they don’t know what happened to him). It’s not Silver’s fault, it’s just something Drill might not want to hear. He’ll still appreciate him comforting him on whatever it is that’s bothering him. It’s a minor caveat though, and I could see them getting along ^^

[boop-le-snoot]

SPELLBOUND I dr strange

Dr Stephen Strange x punk!f!reader

[no y/n, no "you", no name, no reader description - piercings & alternative style of clothing mentioned, race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

please let me know if you want to be added to my dr. strange taglist!

Joining the "meet-ugly" series, we've got Reader graffiti-ing (for a good cause!) the Sanctum on a cold, rainy night. Stephen is pissed but then sympathetic. Snark all around and then you get laid. That's it that's the story. Word count ~6.6k. Explicit smut, light magical bondage, dom!Strange. Fic soundtrack - Siouxie and the Banshees - Spellbound.

On a terrible, horrible, no-good, cold, rainy and windy November day, Sorcerer Supreme Stephen Strange was feeling - surprisingly well, considering... Considering his workload and the ragtag team of buffoons he was forced to cooperate with. Something something, damage minimisation and faster response time. It wasn't like Stephen actually listened to Rogers' monotonous monologues. Stephen only agreed to accompany the Avengers on missions because Wong had started ignoring his calls for back-up.

A relaxing evening with a book or two, topped off with a cup of the best Ceylon tea and a cozy atmosphere brightened up by happily dancing flames in the fireplace. The tension seemed to melt off the sorcerer like last springtime ice; his shoulders sagged and the persistent frown smoothed his usually disgruntled expression into something neutral, if not outright peaceful.

Wong had left the sorcerer to enjoy some alone time by himself, having had a strong feeling that very evening was bound to be one of the rare, calm ones, not an interdimensional threat in sight.

By the time midnight rolled in, sleep wasn't on Stephen's mind, the book he was reading had consumed his mind and pulled him inside of it. The exact moment the defense wards around the Sanctum had begun to signal distress to the Sorcerer Supreme escaped him; he attributed the sudden flux of anxiety for excitement from discovering the ins and outs of a new spell.

After some moments passed with Stephen still engrossed, the Sanctum itself had started bugging it's defender. With a shout of surprise, Strange jumped up in the air, book flying, landing on the couch as the man rubbed his arm where concentrated magic of the ancient house had stung him. Taking long, irritated strides, not bothering to put on any additional clothing layers, Strange stormed off towards the main entrance, muttering to himself, "One evening... Just one evening in peace..." Adding a few choice expletives as the door flung open on it's own.

Strange had cast a spell on his way outside, prepared to surprise the intruder but the magic flickered as he spotted a small figure, dressed in all black, holding something shiny to the outer wall of the building. The person appeared oblivious to his appearance, hood drawn over the face tightly. They were shivering every time the wind howled along the street but didn't relent in their mischief: the shiny object in their hand left a neon red trail, reflecting just enough to make out separate letters under the dim light of a nearby streetlight..

"What. Are. You. Doing?" Stephen knew his voice could be... Intimidating. He spoke louder than necessary for exactly that reason: he wasn't about to magically attack some kid, he'd much rather scare the little brat shitless.

To his surprise, the hooded head turned almost mockingly slow, revealing only what could be called as a bad case of racoon eyes on a feminine face. The bottom half of the face was partially hidden by a black-and-white checkered scarf but even with it, Stephen had no trouble seeing the various metallic piercings that decorated the woman's face. It was an adult woman, he was sure of that - the eyes staring fiercely back at him were too standoffish to belong to a punk kid. "Spray-painting your house, dumbass," The voice confirmed Stephen's theories: even carried away by the howling wind, it carried enough venom in it to kill a snake.

"No, you aren't," With the newfound revelation, Strange had no qualms quickly casting a spell to tie the little vandal's hands together with a rope of concentrated magic. "I'm calling the cops," He announced making a beeline for the phone he had left in the Sanctum's living room.

In his blind annoyance, the sorcerer had forgotten that the spell he had cast essentially forbade the victim from being further than ten feet away from the caster; loud cursing followed his footsteps as the vandal was forcibly dragged into the house behind the sorcerer, none too gently either, as Stephen's ruined mood made his strides that much longer and quicker.

Abruptly, the man stopped, turning around and suddenly recieving a chestful of petty criminal; a collective oof was overshadowed by the Sanctum's doors loudly banging shut as if the house itself didn't want to let outside any more warmth than strictly necessary. Two round, shining eyes stared upwards at the tall sorcerer, growing increasingly concerned.

He blinked a few times, arm still awkwardly outstretched to prevent the woman from toppling over both of them. She backed away slowly, eyeing him with wariness. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I thought this building was abandoned," She spoke slowly as if not to startle him. "And I know you're one of the good guys, I saw you on the news, but can I just go?"

One, her tone was growing increasingly panicked, raising in pitch, eyes darting across the room and to the magic binding her wrists. Two, Stephen felt his face heat up the second he realised the... Inconvenient situation. He had forcefully dragged a woman into his house with her wrists bound and slammed the door shut behind her.

"I'm... Sorry," He mumbled, feeling tongue-tied, all too aware of the sudden influx of blood rushing to his cheeks. "I didn't mean to... Frighten you," He spoke after clearing his throat and raising his hands in surrender. The binds around her wrists fell with the gesture and the woman immediately began rubbing her wrists with stiff fingers. "Do you, um, need help getting home?" Unused to finding himself in such an awkward situation, Stephen looked anywhere but the woman herself.

"No," She replied firmly, just as a particularly strong gust of wind rattled and banged the wooden blinds outside one of the windows. The woman jumped slightly, her breath loudly stuttering in the quiet hallway. "Man, how do you even live here? It's fucking creepy," She more muttered to herself rather than addressed him, but Stephen heard it nonetheless.

"It takes some getting used to," He replied honestly, eager to dissipate the alarmed awkwardness. His brain wasn't being helpful at all: the sorcerer was torn between offering the woman a place to warm up - she was shivering, dripping icy rainwater right on the hardwood floors - and simply conjuring a portal to transport her right into the closest subway station.

"I bet," She snorted almost mockingly. "I've been in a lot of old abandoned buildings and this is by far the weirdest one even if it's not really abandoned," The woman appeared to feel equally awkward now that they've had established Stephen wasn't a threat. She hid her shaking hands in the sleeves of her oversized bomber jacket, standing almost perfectly still, a chameleon to the twilight of the hallway in her dark clothes.

"This place is saturated with magic which could be unsettling to a person who hasn't been around it much," Stephen found himself explaining the phenomenon, much like his teachers in Kamar-Taj had told it to him. "Would you like to dry off at least?" He shot her a quick look; the woman certainly didn't look or feel like a magical threat.

She fiddled with the sleeves, looking torn between fear and curiosity; it was clear that the woman was intrigued by magic and her eyes, while partially hidden by make-up and the hood of her sweatshirt, were bright and clever. "Um, you're not gonna violently murder and eat me, right?" She asked timidly, but her mind was obviously already made up.

"I eat little girls for dinner," Stephen gave into the urge to roll his eyes, turning around and motioning her to follow him. The t-shirt he was wearing didn't do much for protecting him from the pouring rain and gushing wind outside and the five minutes he'd spent outside of the house made him crave the warmth of the fireplace.

"I'm bitter, you'll choke," She replied petulantly without missing a beat but obediently followed him into the room, leaving wet footprints on the floor.

The living room greeted them with a brightly crackling fire, a gust of warmth surrounding the couch and the immediate space around it. The woman didn't attempt touching the various magical knick-knacks placed haphazardly throughout the room, only stared at everything with eyes as wide as saucers. The childlike wonder was endearing to see, the sorcerer had to begrudgingly admit to himself.

"I suggest you place your shoes and jacket closer to the fire for them to dry faster," Stephen finally interrupted her mute staring contest with one of the magic objects hanging on the far wall. It was a battleaxe of Asgardian origin and Stephen felt slightly uncomfortable with the interested way the woman was eyeing the weapon.

"Interesting collection you have there, count Dracula," Round eyes met his own, the owner slowly unzipping and stripping off the outer layers of her clothing. Under the spacious jacket was a no less baggy hoodie and a pair of black, tight-fitting pants. The woman's neck was adorned by a variety of silver chains and a choker with spikes at least half an inch long; the tips of her shaky fingers were painted black.

The jacket was placed on a chair closest to the fireplace. Her shoes went next - massive, black platformed monstrosities - and she immediately became that much smaller, losing a good inch or two of height. Her hood fell, revealing a messy bed head and the black color smeared under her eyes, proving she'd spent a good few hours outside in the pouring rain.

"Aren't you a little too old for this?" Stephen retorted back, vaguely gesturing at the style of her clothing. He wasn't very happy about being snarked at in his own damn house.

The woman chuckled good-naturedly, guardedness paving way to genuine amusement. "I could say the same about you. Don't you all graduate Hogwarts at seventeen?"

Despite himself, the corners of Stephen's mouth lifted upwards. The tone of her voice was teasing, nothing like Stark's poisonous mockery of Stephen's skills. "I guess that makes us even," Strange invitingly gestured to the loveseat opposite his couch, picking up a fleece blanket to give to the shivering woman. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

A shy smile stretched her lips as she ducked her head in a nod, gratefully palming the blanket and immediately curling under it into a snug ball in a corner of the loveseat. The woman looked so cozy, Stephen's mood raised by a smidgen seeing the satisfied sigh that left her mouth as the temperature around her climbed. He might have changed careers but the doctor in him would always be satisfied with a content and healthy patient.

Returning with a steaming hot mug of herbal liquid, Strange found the woman poking away at her phone, concentrated and unaware of her surroundings. He cleared his throat and she lifted her eyes, skimming briefly over his shaking hands to settle on his face, the look not long enough to be considered rude but not brief for him to ignore it completely.

"Thank you," Her voice was quiet as she accepted the tea, gently blowing into the mug. He didn't think twice before promptly shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and that gave him away: the woman's voice had reacquired the teasing tones as she very obviously attempted to distract him: "I'm surprised that Muggle technology works here."

"We have wi-fi," He snorted, secretly grateful for the distraction. "I can't help but wonder what prompted you to pursue your... Artistic endeavours... On my house," Strange rumbled lowly, allowing himself the curiosity. In all his years of living there, not one single person attempted a petty crime on the property.

The woman's face darkened, eyes suddenly boring into the fire, rivaling it's intensity. "The building opposite you? There's a small newspaper, yellow press, gossip column type of shithole," The venom in her voice was sudden and surprising, startling Stephen into paying attention. "For the past few weeks they've been backing up a company that dumps toxic waste right into the North River. It's been making local strays sick," The more she spoke, the higher Stephen's eyebrows rose. "Now even reputable sources are citing that piece of journalistic toilet paper and mayor is now 'reconsidering'," The last word was enunciated particularly poisonously, "The investigation launched into the company. We've been handing out leaflets and my friend acquired information that there is going to be a live TV stream in front of the building. I was hoping the cameras would capture the message," She finished in one breath, a ball of shivering punk. It was unclear if the woman was still cold or the shivers came from the anger inside of her. It was obvious she was passionate about the subject.

The concern quickly grew into confusion, the sorcerer finally settling on fond amusement. "And how would graffiti help to convey your message?" He couldn't help but question the actions of the woman.

"It's punk, writing "you're killing innocents" in red paint. People notice loud statements like that," She replied confidently, a stubborn tilt to her chin. "Animals feel pain too." She added, seeing the sorcerer's sceptical face.

Well, he couldn't exactly disagree. In theory, she was right in both of her statements. Only people more often than not chose to turn a blind eye to things that didn't inconvenience them directly. There were more efficient ways to raise awareness than vandalizing property. He told her that much, expecting a scoff and an eyeroll in return.

"Yeah, and we've already sent out dozens of letters and petitions to the mayor," The eyeroll came, but not for the reason he thought it would. "This is literally, like, the last resort before I go down there and burn their fucking warehouse down. I know the people who are forced to put down the suffering animals, and honestly, I'm this much away from willing to become a felon if that means it stops all of that bullshit," She wildly gestured with her free hand, bracelets and chains rattling with the force of her movement. "Judging by your sunny attitude you're either a lawyer or a doctor, so you must know how it is to see misdeeds being done and feeling utterly helpless," The once-over she gave him - the sorcerer didn't miss it, surprised at the woman's perceptiveness.

"I see," He nodded, more to himself. "And yes, I used to be a doctor," The words, speaking in past tense, didn't come easy to him even after all this time. He mourned the loss of his motor skills, the loss of his career and a painless existence.

"So you must know how it is, to have to choose between your own comfort and the well-being of others," She remarked conversationally. "With that superhero side-gig you've got going on." Apparently, her perceptiveness was just that good. The woman didn't question the past tense of his career, didn't ask bothersome questions - obviously, she put two and two together. What kind of doctor had malfunctioning hands?

"Unfortunately, I do," Stephen nodded kindly, sipping his own cup of tepid tea. "I have to admit, I am surprised," The sorcerer was willing to throw a bone to the strange woman: she was nothing if not kind and polite even after thinking he was abducting her for illicit actions. "You are very perceptive."

The laugh that resonated in the wide room was melodic, playful. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Usually people can't see past my choice of clothing, thinking that I'm some stupid druggie or whatnot," With a wave of her hand, the woman expressed a great deal of irritation. "To be honest, the more people like me I meet, the more disappointed I am in what society considers normal. Every day I lean closer and closer to anarchy..." The last part of the sentence was said almost dreamily.

The sorcerer found himself smiling genuinely, not at all in disagreement with the woman's words. He'd himself once been a member of a social circle his newfound acquaintance would probably enjoy tarnishing; the subsequent accident and injury had shown him the less pleasant side of that part of humanity. As a disabled person, life wasn't even half as good - pity and mockery followed him for months on end, making recovery seem as unreachable as the horizon. Still, the opportunity to tease the little punk was not to be wasted: "You're going to argue ethics with an ageless sorcerer?" Technically, he didn't lie. If he wanted to, he could stop his aging process at any time, just like his old mentor had done.

Her eyebrows rose, eyes sliding over his reclined body with a comically slow speed. It was like her stare left a lingering sensation. "Looking not half bad for your age, mister magician," The little smirk looked positively mischievous on her face, making the woman appear akin to a pixie up to no good.

It wasn't as if Stephen didn't know he was considered attractive. After the accident, it was simply hard to see himself that way, shaking, clumsy hands and all. Yet the temptation was too strong; he gave into the harmless flirt with practiced ease. "Magic," He snorted, making little sparks burst from his hands in an array of colorful dots.

The woman's bottom lip disappeared behind a row of white teeth. "I have quite a lot of inappropriate comments and questions right now," The tone of her voice was once again back to it's default: teasing and defiant, like the energy that surrounded her. "How about you tell me about that mighty axe on your wall? Did you borrow it from Thor to frighten intruders?"

The confession raised a laugh from the sorcerer, the subsequent question throwing the man into a hearty full-belly cackle. The notion of borrowing a weapon from the hot-headed god was an absurd one on it's own; just as if not less likely was the idea of having magical artifacts scattered around the Sanctum for the sole purpose of spooking someone. He told the woman that much, explaining the importance of conservation of magical artifacts and unavailability of them to the general human populace.

Curious as a child, the woman prodded him for an interesting story; feeling jovial, Stephen obliged, finding himself surprisingly invested in the storytelling process as she looked up at his pacing form in utter captivation. If only all the apprentices he'd had to teach would have been half as open and interested in his teachings, he found himself thinking as he paused for the woman to gather her wits. There had been a time when he felt the same way, going first time into a new dimension, setting foot into a different plane of existence, but those feelings had dulled under the burden of protecting their current reality.

Hostile cross-dimensional entities weren't willing to give sorcerers weekends off. There wasn't any time to explore places that weren't necessary. He told the woman that much, finally settling down beside her, elbows on his knees and face warming up in the heat of the burning fireplace.

"Respectfully, that's bullshit," She huffed, untangling herself from the cocoon of blankets to place her empty mug on a nearby table. "If you had a doctor's license, you should know about professional burnout," The slightly whiny, chastising tone surprised Stephen. He didn't expect kindness from a stranger, and when he got it, he was clueless as how to act. "Even Iron Man and Captain America take vacations," She drove her point home, sitting down next to him. "I respect you and what you do for us simple folks but you gotta take care of yourself, too. An eternity living like that sounds awfully long."

"It is," He replied thoughtlessly, having came to the same conclusion ages ago. Having nothing more to add, nothing more to defend his lifestyle with, Strange and the woman settled into a thoughtful silence, each of them musing to themselves. The wind and rain outside howled, banging against the window with fury, little white droplets of hail banging against the glass. Getting the woman home in this weather, in the dead of the night wasn't an option anymore - they had spent a considerable amount of time talking and the darkness outside the window had only deepened. Stephen had lived in NYC long enough to know it wasn't safe even without magical threats. "I should prepare you a room. I cannot let you get home on your own in this time and weather," He looked to the side, finding the woman much closer to himself than expected. Under the smeared make-up and behind the baggy, unusual clothes, she was pleasant to the eye.

A friendly face, clever eyes, smile lines around her mouth. Hair that got into her face; she blew a strand away. "No offense, but I think your house is haunted. I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep."

"I thought you were a punk?" His lips involuntarily curved into a grin once again. Stephen was a smart-ass, he couldn't help it.

"Hey!" She exclaimed, offended, poking him in the bicep with a single finger. "Rude and mean wizard," She scoffed childishly, only succeeding in making Stephen laugh.

"I've been told so by multiple people," He replied without a hitch.

"How unfortunate," The woman levelled him with an unimpressed stare; her eyes, however, were smiling. The banter came to her as naturally as it did to him. "Then prepare to hear heavy metal because that's what I'm blasting to scare off the demons."

"Pfft," He scoffed, giving into the game. "I'll just turn off the heating in your room." Stephen retaliated against the woman.

It was her turn to roll her eyes. Something similar to a puppy's stare was directed at him after that - an absolutely unfair advantage, if someone would have asked him - not at all out of place on the woman's pixie-like features. "I'll find your room and stick my cold feet right under your blanket," She narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips and clenching her little fists.

Strange gasped, clutching his heart with a shaking hand. His whole body vibrated with barely contained laughter. "I'll portal-dump you in the Arctic if you do that," The dam broke: he started laughing at the woman who looked like a disgruntled, spooked bird, all ruffled, red-nosed and indignant.

"If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me," She mumbled in-between snorts of laughter. "That is the punk way."

Their joy bloomed in the shared space, amplified by the small distance between their bodies; knees almost touching and faces so close they could smell the other's perfume.

"By the punk way you mean doing stupid and reckless things?" The man asked her once their laughter died down; a single eyebrow raised, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and strands of silver at his temples glimmering in the warm firelight.

She couldn't tear her eyes away... And she didn't want to. "Yeah," She mumbled, acutely aware of the way she was ogling the man and having no power to stop it either. "That's the case..." Her eyes briefly skimmed down to his mouth, lingering for a second, causing her to wet her lips own in reflex.

"I must admit I've been accused of the same thing on several occasions," His gravely whisper settled somewhere deep in the woman's chest. "Does that make me one of your people?"

Words lost their meaning; useless, meaningless chatter, merely background noise for feelings running on borrowed time and secretive glances. Two people meeting in the least likely of circumstances, finding a common ground big enough to stand on their own two feet and light a fire.

Few years ago, Stephen Strange would have laughed at anybody who would have told him it was fate. These days, however, he knew, the universe worked in mysterious ways and he was smart enough to take the offering when it was brought to his doorstep on a silver platter.

Slowly and timidly, giving the woman a chance to withdraw, he brought his lips to her mouth, outstretching a gentle hand to place on the side of her face. The taste in his mouth was foreign, in the sense of a new discovery. She didn't resist his exploration, gently parting her lips and allowing his tongue to probe inside, meeting him in the same curious, unrushed way.

With stuttering breath, she grasped his bicep to steady herself in the wake of the tension that his kiss had brought between them. The sparks that started amid their chatter blossomed into embers; steady in their growing heat and hunger for more. The woman's hot mouth devoured Stephen, passion consuming them, awakening the primal territories of his brain he'd thought he'd forgotten existed.

One kiss was all it took for his trousers to feel uncomfortably tight; it felt like ages since he'd let desire consume him and steer his actions. His hand, shaky as it was, slid down her neck, memorising the gentle arch of it, to pull at the hem of her hoodie. Both of them gulped for breath in the seconds that the hoodie took to be flung over her head somewhere into the depths of the living room.

Two pairs of shining eyes met at the same moment, wordlessly begging for permission to continue. The cool air left a wake of gooseflesh in its wake, fine hairs standing up on the woman's arms, but her skin burned under Stephen's palms. Neither knew who ducked in for another kiss first; their lips met once again in a rush.

The woman's cool hands slid under his shirt shamelessly and the sorcerer shivered: not out of cold, he was hungry for the contact. He ached to feel the sweetness of a lover's touch. It had been too long. The woman matched his desire in that shameless, bold way by tugging on his clothes.

It was a question of time rather than effort for they seemed to be unable to break their kiss even for a second, getting tangled in the cotton of his shirt and the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The fumbling brought a smile to her lips, another mischievous teasing giggle dampened by the clothes going over his head. "The ghosts won't come to interrupt us, will they?" She asked breathily.

"No, but a... Colllegaue might," Stephen belatedly remembered of Wong's existence and his pesky habit of portaling right into the house. Throwing his own clothes somewhere in the vicinity of her hoodie, the sorcerer quickly conjured a portal to his bedroom, taking hold of the startled woman before she had the chance to utter a sound.

Being Sorcerer Supreme had its own privileges, including but not limited to a full master bedroom and a king size bed. Stephen's greater height certainly had made it useful; now, the man towered over the woman, pale chest on display and bright blue eyes sparkling in amusement as she attempted to gather her wits after the rapid relocation.

It proved to be harder that it seemed. Her eyes, curious and bright, traveled over his chest. Her hands trembled when she placed them over his pecs before gliding them down to his toned stomach, light and slow, like a feather. The woman was fascinated.

Stephen was torn between shyness and cockiness; the lack of recent experiences made his touch timid when he brushe stray hairs behind her ear. Watching the woman stand up on her tippy toes to kiss him was amusing. He allowed himself to lean into the kiss, adjusting a firmer grip on the sides of her face.

The bravery both of them seemed to need so desperately, they inhaled, the kiss once again growing in intensity. His arousal pressed insistently against her stomach, the feeling of hard flesh making her gasp. It twitched in response, Stephen's mind clouding with titillation and anticipation.

One hand wormed it's way into the man's hair, giving it a bossy tug, and he groaned lowly into the kiss. That made the woman smile, their teeth clashing briefly, before she pulled away. "You're too damn tall," She exclaimed and all Stephen could see were her red, kiss-flushed lips. "Have you considered donating a few inches to those in need? For example, me?" Her giggle was throaty.

One hand firmly planted on his chest, she used the other to promptly unbutton and unzip her belt and pants, various metals clanking as she did so. The noise pulled Stephen out of the lust-induced stupor. "I can spare more than a few inches," He cocked his eyebrow, snarking back almost reflexively. His arousal was obvious and not meager by any means.

"Dork," The woman replied, giving him an appreciative once-over.

The grin that spread on his face was somewhere between feral and teasing as he advanced onto her, bodily pushing her onto the spacious bed and draping himself over the woman's flushed body, nipping at her neck the moment a soft 'oof' escaped her at the sudden change of position. Not even minutes in and her face already adopted a blissed-out look, eyelashes fluttering and hips involuntarily looking for friction.

Stephen grazed the tender flesh of her collarbone with his teeth and she hissed, exhaled through her teeth with a barely audible moan. The sorcerer didn't bother hiding his grin. "Not so feisty now, are we?" He rumbled straight into her ear.

The shudder that went through her was more intense this time, chest pushing outward, desperate for more skin-on-skin contact. Stephen peeled the cup of her simple black bra with his teeth leaving a trail of pink-red marks in the wake, catching her nipple between his teeth and lavishing it with attention.

The harder he sucked the more she whined; one of his hands landed on her shoulder, pushing on it to hold the squirming woman steady. He was rewarded with a moan, pitched and long. The very same hand closed in around her throat, gently but firmly applying the exact amount of pressure needed to make her arch into his touch like an excited housecat.

"Be still, darling," Stephen's voice had dropped, low and raspy, bordering on a growl. The woman's own noises were delicious and he couldn't help but rut into her stomach, seeking friction, his own need beginning to burn impatiently.

"I literally can't, you're driving me fuckin' crazy," The woman stuttered out, fingers digging into his skin. She had no qualms about making him know exactly how much was she enjoying his ministrations and Stephen would be a rotten liar if he said it didn't give him a boost of confidence.

"I'll just have to restrain you, then," It was a joke more than anything but with the way she shivered, a full-bodied shake that had him involuntarily pressing his hips into her, there wasn't a chance he'd waste it.

Gathering his wits, Stephen's tongue peeked out in concentration as his hands produced a single, thick strand of magic. Glowing golden and orange, it bound the woman's wrists to the intricately carved headboard, loose enough for her to be able to bail those little hands into fists and move around a teensy bit.

Round and wide eyes stared upwards at Stephen, the woman's mouth hanging slightly open on a flushed face. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," The words were not audible; he made them out with his eyes as they were involuntarily drawn to her lips.

Stephen did not find it in himself to resist. "Not Jesus, just me," He smirked, claiming the woman in a bruising kiss, groaning when the woman bit into his bottom lip in retaliation against his smugness. He tugged off the remainder of her clothing, sitting back to observe the curves of her body, the way meager light of his bedroom played with the shadows in the arches of her limbs.

Following the smooth skin on her belly, Stephen's fingers dipped between her legs, stroking right into the dampness of where she was most sensitive. A choked up 'oh' was the only noise she produced, straining against his magic as she attempted to follow the movements of his hands with her hips. And she won the race fair and square - who was he to deny her such a simple pleasure?

Perhaps, he wasn't as precise or as skilled as he used to be before the accident, however the woman had no reservations, no complaints whatsoever, mewling each time his thumb brushed the sensitive bundle of flesh, fluttering her eyelashes so prettily. The hum Stephen made was contemplative: withdrawing his fingers produced a disappointed moan that quickly turned into a lewd noise when he popped his thumb into his mouth, tasting her arousal.

Delectable. "You're so sweet," He cooed, almost mockingly. She was getting desperate. "A little sharp but so fitting." With that, he used her lust-drunk state to rid himself of his clothes, leaning in to give a single broad lick to the length of her sex. She didn't disappoint, moaning loudly and wantonly, and he immediately withdrew, once again draping himself over her to share the taste of the woman with herself.

The intent wasn't to tease, not by any means. His erection glided easily between her lower lips thanks to the moisture, and he palmed it, putting pressure onto her clit with the head of his cock, brushing up and down with intent.

"Nghh, oh God," Was her eloquent response. The breathless, heated whisper went straight to his cock, making it twitch.

Stephen was getting impatient. The woman, too, was beginning to show signs of frustration. The veins on her arms stood out more than even when she fitfully strained against her restraints. The spell was a simple, even feeble thing, but with the force of his arousal feeding it with burning energy that was almost angry; it was as unlikely that she'd break it as it would be for the sorcerer himself to find the strength to stop himself from dipping the tip of his cock into the welcoming heat of her entrance.

"Take it," He ordered huskily , breathing heavily into her ear. The first few inches of Stephen's shaft were met with slight resistance but he took care to advance slowly, savouring the moment himself. She felt like Valhalla wrapped around him, all sweet, pulsating heat.

"Please," She whispered, ending the word with a broken noise, tilting her hips to speed up the process as more and more of his cock filled up the aching need. "Fuck, give me everything, give me all of it," One of her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him into her.

The moment he bottomed out, it felt like stars had detonated behind his eyelids. The smell of her, iron, fresh cotton and rainwater, filled out his senses; an array of gasps into the crook of his neck and blood rushing to his ears. It was a a beautiful cacophony of lust that culminated where their bodies were joined. Push and pull, he gave an attempt at making shallow thrusts with his hips, encouraged by the sudden arch of her body.

She was at the sorcerer's mercy. "Tell me," He demanded. "Tell me how it feels," Suddenly, he wanted to hear, he wanted to know.

"Fuck," She mumbled and he thrust harder, eager to hear and swallow more of those delicious sounds. "It feels... Fuck, it feels... So deep..." Coherence had left out the window as she struggled to describe the feeling of being stretched out and stuffed full. Long and thick, Stephen's cock was a blessing of it's own, with negative side effects being a temporary loss of speech and train of thought. "Please don't stop, Stephen, don't..."

He worked harder, leaning into it as sweet sweat dripped from his forehead. Bracing himself on his forearms, trapping the panting woman against himself, the room filled with the sound of heated flesh slapping against flesh, squelching noises adding into the discord. Like fuel to the fire, the growling that started somewhere in the back of his throat enticed more and more broken whimpers.

The woman began fluttering around him, telltale signs of her upcoming culmination. Stephen had to grit his teeth - his own abs instinctively tightened in response, body eagerly awaiting the grip of her walls to take the sensations around his cock to new heights. "Hold it," He ordered hoarsely, wanting to prolong the ecstasy of it all.

"I can't, please, I can't, I'm so close," She moaned, wrapping her lips around the skin of his neck in an attempt to distract herself. The added sensations only made Stephen growl again, patience snapping with the force of a live wire, hips picking up a rhythmic tempo.

The sorcerer's fingers harshly tore the ropes of magic, freeing the woman from her bonds in a single second, giving her a brief moment to stretch her arms before the man once again gathered her in his arms. Compliant and lax, the woman's chest was flush to Stephen's, nipples brushing against his defined chest with each consequential thrust.

He was everywhere. He was so much larger, taller and broader than her, muscle and feral growls, shaking her to the core with each motion of his hips. She all but disappeared under him, pinned by him, his arms having slid under her back to pull her onto his cock like a ragdoll. Even as her eyes slid shut, all the woman could see, hear and sense was Stephen's burning body atop her own.

The coil in her belly grew tighter with each second.

"Look at me," Stephen ordered loudly and harshly, feeling the scales of his pleasure tip dangerously into non-return territory. He wanted to see her as she lost herself in bliss.

Unseeing eyes flew open. Round and wet, she was looking at him like a deer in headlights, the plush of her mouth wet, beads of sweat dripping down her temple. "Fuck me, oh God, I need to come," Once more, Stephen saw the words rather than heard.

Her mouth, a little weak, was what did it for him; with a primal growl fresh in his mouth, he uttered a single, "Come. Now," Finding it impossible to resist claiming her mouth for the final time.

The woman's body tensed, heels digging painfully into the small of his back as he swallowed the scream that her orgasm tore out of her throat. The soft flesh of her thighs shook. Buried inside of her to the hilt, Stephen let loose his own self-control, cock throbbing, as he emptied every bit of his seed into the deepest parts of her snug cunt. His vision briefly turned white-hot, emptying his mind of anything but the immediate space and time, the bliss overtaking him like a tsunami.

It seemed to go on forever. It seemed to last only a second.

Their mouths moved weakly against each other. In some areas, skin was broken, and it smarted, weaving a trail of bittersweet aches in the wake of their passion. Stephen couldn't manufacture the place where he could simply Be but in the moment, nothing mattered at all, just the tide of her breathing growing steady after having reached the so-needed release.

The woman kept melting under him. Eventually he had to move, soft flesh slipping from within her, invoking a soft gasp at the loss of their combined state of being. A kitten-like, disappointed mewl followed, the woman immediately draping her body to his side.

Stephen chuckled into the dim quiet of his room, a raspy, breathless and meaningless little noise.

"We'll think tomorrow, for now, just feel," She mumbled already half-asleep, and he would be damned if that didn't sound like poetry to him.

Stephen Strange taglist: @mostly-marvel-musings @lonesomewritings @bethanyzed @persephonehemingway @the-gayyy-bible @sapphicnoodle69 @letsby

[4aloysius-porteu]

i really wish i hated you || tsukishima kei

masterlist | 1 | 2 | chapter 3

pairing: tsukishima kei x f! reader

sypnosis: It was an accident that (Y/N) met a certain tall, blonde male; a memory she isn't fond of remembering, but it is where it all started. And ever since, she magically makes her to his path. The image of the bespectacled man dwelled in her mind more than she thought. Tsukishima pushed away his softer emotions and denied their existence, or at least that's what he told himself. But then, he couldn't believe that this girl he labeled as a clumsy, unlucky creature who smashed his glasses is slowly bringing these strange emotions back to him. She might be irritating and dumb sometimes, but he couldn't get himself to completely hate her. Either that destiny was stupid, or he was blessed or cursed.

genre: fanfiction, fluff

wc: 2.6k

She has met the tall, blonde, and bespectacled male yet again.

"Oh, the midget stalker is here."

"You again?! Seriously, I think it's you who's following me!"

"Hah, what do I get from following an extremely short person like you?" He said, borrowing her words from yesterday.

(Y/N)'s eyebrows creased further in irritation. "Why do you keep mentioning my height?!"

"It was you who started it. Anyways, can you shut up? Do you know that you're in a library?"

She didn't retort back and simply sat on the chair with her arms crossed. It was a fine day then —BOOM— this giant decided to appear out of nowhere. She was trying to forget this person who's associated with some of her embarrassing moments but those just got smashed back to her mind. (Y/N) sighed and pulled a book at the bottom of the stack to start reading, but noticed that the blondie is still standing near the edge of the table, hesitating to sit down while glancing somewhere and back to her.

"What?" (Y/N) frowned.

"Why am I unnecessarily stuck with you on this table?" He sighed, pulling out the chair.

"Because all of the tables here are taken? If you're worried about your glasses being knocked off, don't worry, I won't do anything reckless anymore."

"That's a nice reassurance," He settled down and brought out his studying materials.

Both of them shared the table in the crowded library. Ignoring the people, between them was a silent atmosphere. No one was talking as they both minded their own studies; he was reading quietly and turning pages of a huge book while (Y/N) wrote key points from the printed work and highlighting her notes. Sometimes, the other would leave to return books to their shelves and came back with new stacks. This went on for a few hours until her pen ran out of ink. She scribbled at the back of her notebook in hopes that the ink just got stuck, to no avail. She sighed, resting her head on the notebook. But she really needed to take down notes for her upcoming entrance exam.

"Hey." (Y/N) reluctantly said.

The blonde male looked at her, confirming if he's being called, "What?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt your business but... do you have a spare pen?"

He stared at her with a straight face and placed his chin on the top of his knuckles, implying his refusal to lend one.

(Y/N)'s mentally gritted her teeth. I'm just going to borrow a pen and he's making it hard for me?!

Swallowing her pride, she said, "Look, I need to finish my notes. I'll return it to you right away when I'm done. I promise. Please?"

He scoffed as brought out a pen, "An inkless pen is all it takes for you to become a less lively puppy? You better keep your promise."

A puppy?! "You didn't need to compare me to a puppy but, thanks."

She continued her work but her focus was a bit shaken. This happens whenever she's interrupted or took a break away from writing. Soon, her focus vanished and boredom took over. She tried to read a book to review ideas but her brain won't cooperate. She groaned, her head and arms fell to the table again. The blonde saw but chose to ignore her.

She closed her eyes for a second, however, her gaze fell to the blank paper in front of her face. Her hands are itching to do something other than reviewing and writing, so she put down the pen she borrowed and took a pencil out of her pocket. She placed a pile of books near her notebook so that the male won't notice what she's doing. There, she started to sketch the base of the figure.

She would observe the four-eyed guy who's busy reading some sort of article while taking notes. He has a calm expression on his face rather than an irritated scowl or a mocking grin he usually has. He wears a long blazer and probably a long-sleeved shirt inside. His blonde hair is short yet the edges are a bit curly and his upper eyelashes are prominently long. This was the first time she stared at the jerk's face who she kept bumping into random places that irked the hell out of her, but for some reason, she felt that she had seen this person before the accident in the park, albeit she doesn't know where. (Y/N) came to a conclusion; he was a little good-looking.

The girl looked back to her drawing and shook her head at her own ideas. I can't believe I actually thought that this guy is handsome. How can such a mean creature be blessed with such looks?! Ugh, don't mind, (Y/N). I'm only drawing him because he seems like a great canvas subject, it's not like I haven't done this to other people before...

She went on drawing and drew details to the sketch similar to the boy in front of her. To make the drawing more accurate, she stole small glances at him. She kept things low key because it'll be another embarrassing event if he found out what she's doing. She made the lines smoother in one swift move. The hair and clothes' folds are already well-drawn while she focuses on the detail of his eyes and glasses. She was about to shade when the male finally caught her.

"What is it?" He questioned, closing his book with a low voice and creased eyebrows.

(Y/N) froze on the spot. As much as she doesn't like it, she maintained eye contact with him, thinking of the best alibi that he couldn't argue with. Then, she remembered that she doesn't know his name.

"Uhm... nothing. I was just wondering if you have a name." While talking, her finger subtly moved to grab the nearest object it could get to cover her drawing.

"I have, but why would I mention it to you?" He cooly replied.

"It's alright. I'm not asking you to. Unless you want to be referred to as he/him or the tall, blonde glasses guy all the time?" (Y/N) countered.

He silently turned a page before answering, "Well, it's not like we'll meet every day."

"Oh," was her only reply. Looks like he will stay a nameless guy in her head for a long time. She was about to get back to her business when he spoke.

"Tsukishima Kei."

(Y/N) looked at him in surprise. "I'm not going to repeat it." He added.

She smiled, having clearly heard it right away. "Can you tell me how it is written?"

He looked at her to check for ill intentions but found nothing in her eyes. He hesitantly wrote the characters of his name on a piece of paper.

"I'm (L/N) (Y/N), nice to meet you again, Tsukishima-san." She'd like to initiate a handshake for peacemaking, but she knows how he'd only decline it. She wrote her name for him to see as well.

Tsukishima Kei. She repeated in her mind. What a nice name.

With a notebook covering the upper portion of the paper where she had drawn his portrait, she wrote his name at the bottom. She proceeded to the shading and background features. Backgrounds are one of the things she hates in art because it takes too long to draw one compared to the subject itself. Luckily it's only a sketch so she won't have to suffer. Although she doesn't know if Tsukishima had seen whatever she's doing so she's still cautious. She peered at him for the nth time so she could distract his peripheral vision. Maybe to test the social initiative skills she hasn't used for a long time too.

"Uhh, can I ask something?" She started.

"Hm?" He responded without taking his eyes off the page.

"What school are you from?"

"Amemaru Middle School."

(Y/N) hummed, thinking of another question, "Then, what school are you enrolling to? It must be an upper class one since you had to read those large books and all."

"Not really," Tsukishima closed the book, "I plan to go to Karasuno High School. They may not have a difficult entrance exam, but these readings are for decent grades and some stock knowledge."

"Decent grades, huh... you look like you could achieve more though. I'm pretty sure you'll ace it." She answered, "I was from Kitagawa Dai Ichi. I'm taking an exam in Shiratorizawa soon."

"You're going to that high-class academy? I see, I failed to notice that because you don't look like one. Have fun clashing with other elites there."

"Elites? What are you talking about, you still believe there's such a hierarchy?" (Y/N) chuckled.

"There is though. A gap between them and mere humans in terms of skills and power."

"In the end, they're still humans though. Be it numbers, hard work, or some unique strategy, those 'mere humans' you say will always struggle to step on equal levels with those on the highest rank."

Tsukishima only hummed and stared down at her, "Perhaps I was wrong on assuming you're an elite. You're clearly not."

"Are you underestimating me?" She challenged.

"No, I was just saying. Can I ask something though?"

"What?"

"Why are you suddenly talkative?"

She was caught off guard but tried not to stutter, "Me? Talkative? I'm always like this."

"Really?" He raised his brows, totally not buying it.

"Ugh, fine! I'm tired of studying!" She sighed, "I was scribbling some doodles on my notebook because I'm bored so I thought it wouldn't hurt to talk to Mr. Beanpole in front of me. Forgive me and my awkward social skills."

"Your social skills are not bad. I'm just thankful you aren't using the precious ink of my pen for drawing." He said, stacking the books he used.

She gasped, panicked inside, "You aren't looking at my drawing, are you?"

He got up to return the books,"Don't worry, it's none of my business."

She exhaled in relief, spared from another memory of embarrassment. Her eyes followed his walking figure and watched his movements. She looked at her drawing to compare and used her fingers to define lighting. When Tsukishima got back and placed new reviewers on the table, (Y/N) asked him once more.

"Do you ever get tired of studying?"

"Sometimes I take a break, but I can only do that if I have finished everything."

"What a diligent student you are."

"I hardly see any benefit in being dumb and slacking off all the time."

"Eh, I hardly see any benefit in studying Algebra and Calculus. I have a lot of questions. Do you use derivatives in counting money or salary? Do you use trigonometry in dividing pizzas or corn chips? Why do I need to find the limit of a function if numbers are infinite? Why do I need to get the formula of a certain point in each line or curve I draw on the graphing paper? What is the correct answer for?" (Y/N) complained.

Tsukishima looked at her blankly, doubting her chances of passing the Shiratorizawa's board exam. "I couldn't argue with that, I'd rather read a book composed of words than formulas, but you don't have a choice. Although, if you plan to be an engineer or something, that'll be a different perspective."

"No, thanks, I won't eat math books for breakfast. Other subjects are interesting enough to keep me awake in class, but numbers don't really entertain me."

"Then, what do you do?" He asked, writing on his notes.

"Not much. I just draw, paint, listen to music, and watch anime."

He let out an amused hum, "How about you? What do you do other than to study?" (Y/N) asked.

"I play volleyball, listen to music, and read narrative books."

"Volleyball? So that's what your height is for! I thought it's just for cleaning and reaching high places."

"That's rude."

"If I am, what do you call yourself? Besides, I don't want to make wrong assumptions."

"You just did."

"...right. I'm sorry."

The sense of familiarity took over (Y/N)'s brain, telling her that she definitely had met this Tsukishima guy before. Her face scrunched a little, trying to search her memories and connect the dots. Her eyes found his face again.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" His eyes narrowed, his annoyance towards the girl slowly rising.

"I HAD met you somewhere... before that accident, where did I see you?"

He was about to say something when (Y/N) stopped him, "Shh, I'm thinking."

He crossed his arms and frowned at her. Volleyball, Amemaru MS... She was about to say it but Tsukishima spoke first.

"Were you one of the audience who watched the middle school volleyball inter-high a year ago?"

"I was! Wait, you remember?"

"That was the only place where I could find someone from Kitagawa Dai Ichi." He confirmed.

"Correct. I was a part of the school paper where I was assigned in the sports category. I took a picture of you when my senior was interviewing you! You were the tallest middle blocker in the games! How could I forget that! So that's why whenever you irk me, it was familiar!"

"How am I annoying you? Aren't you the one who kept on talking right now?"

"I've figured out that there's no kind bone in you. And the way you keep on stuffing the spikes from the opposite team. It was never-ending that they didn't have a chance to score properly." She pouted.

"What do you expect from a middle blocker? It was my job to block spikes."

"You could've gone easy on them."

"The game would lose it's sense if that's the case."

"Fine. You're not wrong." Their conversation was cut short after she ceased talking. At least she found out where she first met Tsukishima. She finished the portrait sketch. Grinning, she believed that she captured his features accurately in her drawing. She'd like to hold it near him and compare to make sure though. Satisfied with her work, she went back on turning pages.

"So, you've finally decided to continue to study?" Tsukishima prodded.

She smiled, "I guess. Thank you for talking to me. That was a great stop."

Both of them worked quietly, but now, the irritation they felt towards each other lessened. After some time, a person in the speaker announced that the library will be closing before 6 pm. Tsukishima returned all the books he borrowed and packed his things.

"You're going home?"

"I don't want to come home late. You aren't finished with your notes yet?"

"Yeah, maybe I'll leave five minutes before six."

"Alright. I'll get going now." He swung his bag over his shoulder.

"Hey, wait! Your pen!" (Y/N) abruptly remembered seconds after.

"I don't need it anymore. It was useful, apart from its close on running out of ink."

"But it's yours and you told me to keep my promise!"

"Whatever. Keep it or throw it." He walked out and wore his headphones, having no intention to listen to anyone.

She sighed and checked the ink. More than half of it is gone, but she can use it again if she wishes. (Y/N) placed her fist to her cheek while writing.

Random Tsukishima Kei facts:

In the second prototype chapter (unserialized, one shot, the first idea of the author on how haikyuu will go) Tsukishima was a second-year, which was changed in the serialized version where he's a first-year. His initial height in the prototype chapter is 184cm, a little shorter than his official height (190.1cm). In an extra sketch, Furudate commented, "Tsukki and Tanaka being in the same year would spell chaos!

©4aloysius.porteu.2021. please do not repost, copy, or edit. plagiarism is punishable by law. 

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Merchant of Death

One-Shot

Description: Mob!Thanos is a collector of the most precious things in the world. But what happens when his eyes upon you?

Warning - Mentions of violence and beheading

Words- 5400~

This one-shot is my entry for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork 's writing challenge. I used the following image prompt. Check out this link to participate in the challenge!

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

Nobody knew his real name. Nobody cared. Named after the Greek God of death himself, Thanos was modern day's omen of slaughter. Being the leader of one of the oldest mob families in New York, Thanos commanded a certain level of respect amongst his peers. It wasn't just that his heritage was daunting. His towering height, broad shoulders, vast expanse of muscled torso and legs were enough to intimidate even the toughest of the fighters. Always dressed in an impeccably crisp suit, his bald head, sharp eyes and a strong, set jaw easily gave the impression that he was the owner of a multi-billionaire corporation.

It wouldn't be wrong to call his drugs and weapons empire a well-oiled corporation. His 10 fingers were dipped in blood in multiple countries throughout the seven continents, yes even in Antarctica. 

Thanos was a well-known figure. Everybody knew who he was, knew what he did, but nobody, not even the law authorities, could ever connect him with any illegal activity, be it harbouring and selling of illegal guns and drugs, or smuggling goods to his centres across the globe.

For all his wrongdoings, Thanos did donate 10% of his revenue to the poor, the homeless, the downtrodden. Almost like a twisted version of Robinhood, where he ripped off the rich with highly priced drugs and paid a part of the amount to the poor.

For this reason, there were two sides of him which were portrayed in the media, those who earned his favour called him Messiah of the Poor, while the others who had witnessed his ire addressed him as the Merchant of Death. But in both the iterations, it had been made ample clear that nobody could make Thanos bleed.

That's why it came as a shock when the Chief of Police, Steve Rogers, had managed to shoot Thanos in an encounter. Looking at their leader fall to the ground, Thanos' men commenced their feral attack on the protectors of the law, driving them back. 

The bullet had pierced his left forearm, but hopefully hadn't made it far into his body, thanks to the bulletproof vest sewn into the jacket. 

His men rushed him to the nearest hospital as he put pressure on the wound. 

...

Being the night of 31st December, the ER was more crowded than usual, with drunk idiots involved in car accidents, accidental weapon discharges, or some even sustaining injuries by bursting fire crackers at a close range. 

You silently cursed yourself. Yeah saving lives was noble and all, but spending the entire New Year's Eve in the hospital, surrounded by blood and equally bloody cries of their families and friends really got on your nerves at times.

You steeled yourself as you entered the operation theatre (OT) for another surgery. This moron's druggie friend had shot him in the chest because he thought he was someone else. This would be a complicated surgery, as the bullet was deep inside the muscle, almost touching the heart. One miscalculation could result in more complications.

Halfway through the surgery, you heard a commotion outside the OT. Furrowing your head, you tried to concentrate, but the noise grew louder. You focused your mind on removing the bullet. As if choreographed, your instrument touched the bullet just as a gun was fired right outside your door. 

Your colleagues jumped, but you set your concentration on removing the piece of metal from this man's body. 

The doors to the OT were kicked open as a tall, thin man entered weilding a gun, asking for you. Your staff promptly pointed at your bent figure. 

You were still focused on extracting the bullet when the gun cocked next to your ear, "C'mon out Doctor, we need you to treat our boss," Maw commanded you.

Ignoring him, you carefully pulled the metal upwards, looking at the live scan feed on the screen for direction. 

"I don't think you heard me Doctor. Leave this man and come with me. Our boss needs you. I will not repeat myself," warned Maw, his venomous voice laced with concern for his boss.

You did not move.

When he pressed the gun to your forehead, your staff gasped in terror, but you refused to budge.

As soon as the damned bullet was out, you dropped it onto a tray along with your gloves, instructed your staff to stitch up the wound, and wordlessly looked at the greasy-haired Maw. 

He beckoned you to follow him into Thanos' room where he was being prepped for surgery. You saw Dr Yellowstone tending to him as you approached. "I am sorry Doctor, I told them that you were in a surgery but..." you brushed him off, asking to see the preliminary reports. Dr Yellowstone explained that the bullet wound wasn't deep, and that a simple surgery headed by him would have sufficed, but they were insistent to get you to do the surgery. 

"Of course," Maw's sickeningly smooth voice was back in your ear, "We wanted someone who's the best for our boss. And you are the best surgeon in the entire state, aren't you Doctor?" he asked with a sneer.

You continued to ignore him, coordinating with your staff. As Thanos was put in a wheelchair, Maw pulled out his gun again, cocking it near your forehead, "Our boss better be able to move that hand again miss, or tonight will be the last time you use both your hands."

That threat pushed you over the edge. All evening and night of dealing with insensitive jerks like this guy over here had finally made you snap. 

You turned towards him, looked at the barrel of his gun and slapped him right across his cheek. 

Whether it was the force of your slap, or the fact that your assault had been completely unexpected, nobody could tell, but Maw staggered backwards, his free hand resting on his long reddening cheek where you had struck him. 

Thanos jerked in attention at your action. His pain seemed forgotten as he looked at you. Your plump figure stood tall as you glared at Maw. 

"Put that gun away or there's more where that came from," you warned him spitefully. 

"Nurse, take him to the OT. Dr Yellowstone, coordinate with the blood bank, we might need extra blood. I will see to it that the anesthesia is ready to administer," you left the room after instructing your team. As if you were going to wait around to witness the reaction of Thanos's right-hand man.

In the OT, you saw Thanos' large figure laid on the bed. You approached him with the anesthesia, but he held your hand with his uninjured arm. "Don't," he spoke in his thick voice. "It will hurt. The pain might lead to further complications," you explained. "No. I want to feel your touch," he said simply.

You rolled your eyes and cringed on the inside.

As the surgery began, Thanos kept his dark eyes on you. Neither once did he wince with pain, or avert his gaze. Ignoring him, you set about to remove the bullet from his arm, a quick procedure. 

"Dr Yellowstone," you said from behind your mask, "stitch the wound and dress it."

"Where are you going?" Thanos asked you plainly, as if you both were sitting in a coffee shop. You ignored him and removed your gloves as Dr Yellowstone approached the patient. 

Thanos moved his arm, "No. You will not. She will," he nodded towards you. 

Audibly groaning, your assistant helped you in wearing a new pair of gloves.

Finally, with the wound stitched and dressed, you left the OT to tell Maw the good news.

…

3 hours after the surgery, Thanos looked at your file while resting on his bed. Compiled by Maw, this file had every detail of your life, no matter how minute. You had captured his attention unlike anything else, anyone else. He flipped through the pages, learning more about your family, friends, hobby, and profession. 

His member twitched when he saw your images from social media. Beneath the doctor's coat, you were plump, curvy and thick, just the way he liked his women. He paused, drinking in your appearance in a swimsuit. Placing a finger on your face, he slowly traced your outline, his finger respecting every bump, every bend till he reached your covered mound. He pressed it, as if hoping to see you react, but you kept on smiling in the image. 

Eyes heavy with sleep, he looked around his room. His quiet quarters screamed with opulence. Decorated with the world's most expensive marble, motifs covered in 24k gold, diamond chandelier and Persian rugs, his room paid homage to some of the priceless wonders of the planet. But looking at them now, Thanos realised that none held a candle next to you. 

As he settled in to sleep, he smirked. You would make a nice addition to his room.

…

A week later, Thanos surprised his men by driving himself to your hospital. He had taken an appointment, afterall, his wound needed to be checked.

He knocked on your cabin door, entering only when you said to. He smiled warmly at your startled expression, standing patiently next to the chairs across your desk. 

"Dione," he interrupted you, "Please call me Dione."

You gathered yourself quickly, "Mr Thanos I-"

He smiled cheekily, he knew he had struck at the right place, at the right time. Extending his arm, he reached out for your palm, holding it gently in his. "Please come in. You must be tired," he said, leading you into your own house. 

You squinted your eyes. You remembered reading the strange name on your list of appointments today. "What can I help you with Mr Dione?"

Thanos smiled. He liked the way his name rolled off your lips. "May I take a seat?" You nodded.

Thanos barely fit in the chair, his vast thighs almost bulging out from the sides of the chair. "I think my wound needs to be redressed."

"I thought Maw said he had the best doctors at your beck and call," you spat at him.

"I owe you an apology," he said slowly, "Maw's behaviour that night was appalling, to say the least. I have never hurt or intended to hurt healthcare workers. I regret his actions. Please accept my sincere apologies."

Thanos or Dione, surprised you for the second time that day. His acknowledgement of his staff's misbehaviour left you dumbfounded.

He cleared his throat, "As I was saying, I think my wound needs to be redressed." He turned to his side as much as he could, and displayed the bloodied bandage on his arm. 

You asked him to sit on the patient's examining bed in your office and unwrapped his bandage.

"Does it bleed everyday?" you asked.

"No, it started bleeding today. As soon as it did I thought I should visit you."

Thanos looked at you closely. He studied every contour of your face. His right hand fought the urge to cup your cheek and pull you closer to him.

You traced the wound on his left arm and straightened your back, fully aware of his intense gaze on you. 

"Mr Thanos…,"

"Mr Dione, please," he interrupted you.

"Mr Thanos," you asserted, "This wound has been reopened by a knife. And judging by the angle of the cut, I think it was you who did it," you stared at his eyes.

He whispered your name, "I just wanted to see you again."

"It's Dr (Y/N) for you," you spoke sharply, "I will fix this wound now. But if you inflict harm upon yourself again, then I will not be able to help you."

Thanos saw you grab your kit and come near him, "I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"I don't think there was any foot involved, Mr Thanos. The only things that were involved were a gun and my palm on Maw's cheek."

He chuckled softly at the memory. He loved the fire burning in your eyes. He wanted to see what would you look like burning up on his bed, riding waves of pleasure with him.

"Let me make it very clear, because people like you need to get everything spelled out for them," the venom dripping from your words brought his attention back to you, "I do not want to be involved with you Mr Thanos. I have no intention of being a mobster's trophy girlfriend. If you are really thankful for what I did, then you will leave me alone and never set a foot in this hospital again. Have I made myself clear?" you stared at his hungry eyes as you finished bandaging him.

Nobody on the entire planet, not even the President himself, dared to speak with Thanos in that tone. And here you were, staring him down as if he was worthless. It only made him hungrier, knowing that claiming you would be the sweetest reward he can give himself.

…

The rest of the week was thankfully uneventful for you. On Saturday night, you slowly climbed the stairs to your floor, feeling relieved. At least you had the whole of tomorrow to relax. 

Reaching your apartment, you found the door unlocked. You stepped backwards, deciding to call the police from your building's security office. 

Just then, your door swung open and a smiling Thanos cheerfully greeted you, "Welcome home doctor! Dinner is almost ready. Why don't you take a relaxing hot bath? I have already filled your tub with warm water."

After the exhausting week you had, you had never expected to find Thanos in your home, cooking dinner and preparing a bath. All you could do was stare at him with your mouth open, his black pants draping his thighs perfectly, the blue shirt hugging his muscled arms and torso as if second skin and to top it all, he was wearing your apron, the one with the cute pandas on it. The apron didn't even cover the distance between what you guessed were his nipples.  

"I am not Thanos. I am Dione," he voice sounded sincere, "You asked Thanos to leave you alone, not Dione."

You barely felt his touch as he held your palm, again astonished at how gentle this huge beast of a man can be. 

He locked the door behind you, took your purse and coat and knelt to untie your shoelaces. You jumped back at that gesture, finally coming to your senses. "What… what are you doing?" you managed to ask.

He looked up at you, "Wouldn't you be more comfortable if your shoes were removed?" 

"No."

"No?" Thanos asked.

"Yes, I mean no. No, I meant what…"

Thanos shook his head, amused as he reached down to untie your shoes, ignoring your protests. He got up slowly, his body a mere inch away from yours. He held your eyes with his as he reached behind your head, unclipping your hair. He stood mesmerized as your hair fell down your shoulders, his hand massaging the spot where they were bunched up on your scalp. 

You purred at his ministrations, your eyes suddenly widening as you heard the sound escape your lips. He let you move back as you held his gaze. Why did he have to be so goddamn attractive?! 

You closed your eyes. No he's a mobster. You cannot be involved with him. No. No. No. Control yourself.

After that evening, you saw Thanos, (or Dione, you didn't really care) everyday in your home. You saw him first thing in the morning as he cooked you a hearty breakfast, and the last person for the day when he made dinner and tucked you in your bed.

You opened your eyes. You can do this. "Thanos and Dione are the same person. I don't want to be involved with you. Leave. Right now," you half-heartedly snarled, reaching for the door. But he put a hand on the lock first, stopping you. 

"They aren't the same person. Thanos would never cook for anyone, even for himself. He wouldn't tolerate your disrespectful tone and arrogance. But I am. I want to-"

"Excuse me? Arrogance?" you cocked an eyebrow, "Do you realise the amount of shit I have had to go through after I operated on you? The FBI, CBI, Police and God knows what came pounding down my doors, accusing me of harbouring and aiding a criminal."

"I am well aware," he admitted tersely, "I have made sure that you will not be bothered again."

Your eyes widened as his words sunk in, "Did you kill them?" you whispered, your hands immediately flying to your mouth.

"I didn't," he stated.

A frown formed on your face as you tried to unpack his confession. "Did Thanos get them killed?" you asked with purpose.

Just then, the oven's timer chimed. "Ahh, dinner is ready. I made your favourite lasagna. There's also garlic bread and a cucumber mint salad. Do you still want to take a bath before dinner?" he asked casually as if he hadn't murdered a squad of officers. 

Sensing your hesitation, he came over to you, and stepped in your space, "Give me a chance," he urged, "I am not the monster they paint me to be. Allow me to show you who Dione is. Let me cherish you. I promise, as long as I am with you, I will not indulge in any criminal activity. Please. Give us a chance," he finished earnestly, taking both your palms in his hands.

You slowly raised your eyes to meet his, breathing in his luscious, musky scent. His hand caressed your cheek, weaving through your hair as he pulled you closer, delicately. His soft exhale on your lips weakened your knees. But he stopped. The handsome bastard was waiting for you to come closer. 

"I will walk a 1000 steps to reach you," he whispered quietly, "if you just take one towards me."

His other hand started a torturous journey up your arm, his touch feather light. His thumb slowly traced the outline of your bottom lip, coming to rest behind your head. 

For a second, you were lost in his ministrations. For a second, you wanted to give in to the stillness of the night. 

But a loud crash, and a woman's blood-curdling scream interrupted your peace. You jumped, looking in the direction of the noise. Thanos followed your gaze and smiled. He hummed with satisfaction, "Where were we?"

You shook out of his gentle grip and headed towards the direction of the commotion. As you peered down your window, you let out a scream. Down on the road, the body of a SWAT agent was sprawled on top of an indented car. It seemed as if he had fallen off the top of your neighbouring building. 

Coming up behind you, Thanos vowed, "I would never engage in illegal activities when I am with you. But Thanos will destroy the world if that's what it takes to protect you."

…

Breakfast in Milan, luncheons in Athens and late night hot chocolate in Paris was enough to sway even the most heartless of the human beings. But you were still on your toes, waiting for this dream to turn into an ugly nightmare. 

That wasn't all. He started buying you groceries, and even basic amenities like toothpaste and hairbrush. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you saw that he had even replenished your tampons.

For all his drawbacks, you couldn't ignore the fact that he never touched you without your consent. He treated you with respect, and cared for you as if you were made with glass. Some nights, when you came home unbelievably late, he was ready to massage your aching feet, while patiently listening to you rant about your day.

The time you spent with him almost felt domesticated. But you knew it was borrowed. Time went by and you started accompanying him on his trips as he refused to let you stay behind. You saw very little of Maw on these trips. Instead his other henchwoman, Proxima, was assigned to you. 

"What is holding you back?" he asked you one day, as he brought dinner to your room in Venice, overlooking the city. "I have expressed my love for you in as many ways as I could," his eyes roamed over your body, "I think I have managed to strike the perfect balance between Thanos and Dione. I have done good on my promise to make sure you never see the ugly side of my business. Then why do you still refuse to come to me?"

You looked at him with a frown, "What makes you think I do not see the ugly side of your business? Do you know the amount of drug overdose cases we get in a day?"

Thanos looked out the window, "All those people are aware of the ill-effects of drugs. If they still choose to take it, then how does that make me the villain? Somebody else will sell the drugs if I don't."

"Really? That's your justification? So you owe nothing to the people whose lives are destroyed by your drugs and guns? What about the poor? The young who are addicted to your substance?" you argued in an accusing tone.

"I donate 10% of my earnings to them. But I can't help everyone," he justified.

Thanos chewed in silence as he considered your words, "Will you give yourself to me if I donate half of my wealth?" he looked at you after a few moments.

"10% is not even a dip in your ocean of riches Dione. You want to talk about striking a balance? Then donate 50% of your wealth to those who actually need the money. Auction off your antiques, your collectibles. Build schools, donate to NGOs, be good and help the people, the portion of the society who needs you the most," you tried to convince him.

You softly pushed your plate away, "No amount of charity can justify the killings Dione."

As Thanos gripped his fork tighter at your words, you swore you saw the metal bend. "I have to do what needs to be done to protect you. Even if it means spilling the blood of a few agents of the law. Do you think they will protect you from me? You are nothing but a source of information for them. As soon as they are done with you they will toss you aside like useless garbage. Your identity, your entire life will be erased from the record. You don't want me to protect you like that? Okay. Then what would you have me do?" he demanded an answer.

You met his gaze, your silence filling the conversation with words.

"I cannot just quit. I have spent my whole life building this empire and I am not about to give it up," he claimed through gritted teeth.

"But what did it cost you?" It was your turn to surprise him with your question. 

"Everything," he admitted, "and more. But this was all I have ever had. There was no reason for me to leave this-"

"You do have a reason now," you interrupted him. 

You dragged your chair towards Thanos and sat beside him. Placing a hand on his heart, you kept your eyes on him. "You have a reason now," you repeated in a whisper. 

You saw a myriad of emotions cross his eyes. Taking advantage of his astonishment, you kissed his shoulder and rested your forehead on it. You felt his heart beating faster. 

Thanos was glad your head was on his shoulder, as he didn't want you to see the tears in his eyes. This was the first time you had initiated any form of affection towards him. He held your hand, the one on his heart, and kissed it with a promise.

…

Officer Natasha Romanoff hurried towards Steve Rogers' office. She entered without knocking. 

"Hey there! Knock before you-" Tony Stark, the Weapons Contacter tried to speak before Natasha cut him short.

"Steve, you need to hear this," Natasha looked at him. 

In the last few months, thanks to Steve's bravery in the shoot-out with Thanos's men, he had been promoted to the highest ranking covert field agent at the FBI. 

Steve nodded, requesting Tony to reschedule the meeting. As soon as they had the privacy, Natasha filled him in on the news. "Thanos is donating 50% of his wealth to charities and NGOs across the country. He's moving with his girl to Mauritius."

"He's building a new base there?" Steve cocked an eyebrow.

"No, he's retiring. If he gets on that plane then we will lose him forever."

"Hmmm," he considered her words, "I have a plan."

…

Thanos had advised you against going back to your apartment, arguing that all of your stuff was already packed and on the way to the flight. But you were relentless. You had to go back to retrieve a piece of your legacy which you were sure his men must have missed. 

He watched in amazement as you removed the photo frame from your wall and tore the wallpaper, revealing a cavity inside. 

You retrieved a box, wiping the dust off of it. Walking towards Thanos, you opened the box to reveal 6 rings. "These belonged to my grandfather. He always believed that there are six traits that make a man. He gave me these rings on his deathbed, and asked me to pass it on to the man who I deemed worthy." Pointing to the ring with the purple stone, you recited your grandfather's words, "Be with a man who commands Power," yellow stone- "But make sure he has a kind Soul," orange stone- "He should be able to read your Mind," green stone- "However, he must know the value of Time," red stone- "He should be able to accept his Reality," and lastly, the blue stone- "But, he should give you the world, the galaxy, the entire Space, if need be."

Holding out the box for him, you presented him with the rings. You smiled indulgently as you wiped his tears. He took your hand in his, kissing your fingers, your palm, your wrist. You laughed as he hugged your hand, "This is the second most precious gift I have ever been given."

You tilted your head, puzzled, "What is the most precious gift?"

"You."

…

Steve saw you and Thanos exit the building, hand in hand like two lovestruck teenagers. "Team Alpha, if you have a clear shot take it. But do not fatally wound him. We need him alive. I repeat, we need him alive. Team Omega, standby for the extraction. Team Beta, grab the First Aid Kit as soon as the Patient is hit" he commanded into the walkie-talkie using their codewords for you and Thanos.

"You still haven't told me where are we going," you pouted slightly as you walked towards the car. "Patience love, all in good time," Thanos smiled down at you. "This is White Wolf Team Alpha, firing in 3...2...," Bucky spoke in his earpiece.

"Wherever we are going, I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you," you spoke. "...1." You suddenly turned to face Thanos, and started walking backwards, your hand still in his. 

The bullet pierced the space above your heart, before colliding with Thanos's bulletproof vest. Gunshots reduced to dull thuds around you as you collapsed in Thanos's arms, your blood staining his shirt. 

You didn't notice when he carried you to the car. You didn't notice the speeding car coming to a halt. All you could hear was his panicked voice, and feel his pounding heart.

"Maw why are we stopping?" Thanos screamed at his henchman.

"Sire, there is a traffic jam ahead. We can't take any other route. There are rows of cars behind us. We are trapped," he said regretfully.

"I don't care! Kill them all, clear the road with explosives. She needs to get to a hospital NOW!" Thanos's voice boomed as panic gripped his heart.

"Sire we can't use explosives, the road might cave in. Proxima is arranging for a mobile hospital as we speak. They should be here soon," Maw spoke with hope.

Cradling you in his arms, Thanos pushed your hair back from your face, "Stay with me. Please stay with me. Don't leave me now. Please… no…"

"Hey," you managed to say in a cracked voice as tears escaped his eyes, "Dione," he looked at you, "I will... always be with you... my love," you struggled to caress his cheek as he held your arm. 

"Please please please no," he pleaded.

You gasped as a new jolt of pain ran through your body, "I… I love you… Di… Dione," you smiled.

A heart-wrenching scream escaped Thanos as he held your lifeless body. His anguish lost in the traffic of vehicles blaring their horns.

…

"Sire," Maw's voice broke Thanos from his reverie. He turned to look at the box in Maw's hand. In the dim light of his room, he opened the lid to see the severed head of James Buchanan Barnes. 

"Steve Rogers has gone underground sire, but we will soon find him," Maw promised. 

"He is not the real problem Maw," Thanos turned back to the window, "Do you remember what the doctor had said? If we would have gotten her to the hospital in time, she would have been alive today."

He paused, looking down the crowded city before him, "She died because we couldn't get her to the hospital earlier. What had caused the traffic jam?"

"Two cars had gotten into an accident, which caused a pile up on the road," Maw explained.

"That pile up wouldn't have occurred 10 years ago. In the last 2 decades, there has been a population boom which has ended up putting a strain on resources. Governments across the world are refusing to tackle this problem and in fact, are boastful of the increase in their population." As if on cue, he saw large groups of people fill up the sidewalk as hundreds of cars poured onto the road, everybody eager to reach home after their workday.

"What do you mean sire?"

"The scales of the world have been tipped unevenly, Maw. Balance needs to be restored to the order of the planet. The rich can't have an endless supply of luxury while the poor scramble for basic sustenance. She was right, we need to help the poor, but we can't wipe out those in power completely."

Thanos looked at the setting sun with determination, "It is time to kill half of humanity."

Maw inhaled sharply, "Sire! How would we manage-"

"The drugs," said Thanos simply, "50% of our cargo will contain lethal drugs till we achieve our target. Distribute it randomly throughout our supply chain for the next 6 months."

Maw paused for a moment. The severity of this crime left him dumbstruck. "Sire," he spoke at last, "She wouldn't have wanted this."

Thanos looked at the 6 rings on his fingers. "She wanted to live Maw. But she couldn't. She always tried to help people as much as she could. This is the only way we can fulfill her wish, by helping people across the globe."

"By killing people across the globe," Maw meekly argued.

"You kill everyday for a living Maw. Why has this idea turned your silver tongue into a knot?"

He could only gulp in response.

"The world needs correction Maw. Now more than ever. The lethal drugs should be shipped from tomorrow onwards. I would find it unpleasant to feed your body to our dogs, if you fail your duty," Thanos' thinly veiled threat hung in the air like a sword. 

Maw bowed down, "As my sire wishes," and left the room in quite a hurry.

Thanos walked towards your painting on the wall opposite to his bed, the only ornamentation in his otherwise desolate room. 

"You will see my love," he cooed, "we will see the sun rise on a grateful world together."

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

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[11scout11]

helloo! this is and introduction of a story ive been writing! i desighned the charectors and town and i realy like them, hope you do too!

introduction of The Ghost Of Autinesbury

Chapter 1

“Your late” tanyas cold voice rang out from the door, the door i might add that had swung open with such force and vigour it had almost concussed our poor protagonist Rae. Tanya was a smart, level headed girl with a usually tidy appearance but today was different, tanyas blonde hair, usually neatly brushed and swept into a tight bun was now a frayed, messy top-not with many strands and locks fallen in front of her rosy face, diluted emerald eyes peeking up from under the curtains of silky gold threads, however peaceful the color was her expression juxtaposing whatever calmness was in her face.

“Wow ,didn't think I'd ever see little miss put together look so untidy” rae chuckled nervously only to be tugged into the house by her shirt “i have been cleaning and unpacking all day, by myself i might add!” the angered woman ranted rushing up old rickety stairs with some sort of odd red crust between the floorboards under them.

“Close the front door, i don't want those daft cats in here” came her bellowing voice from some place upstairs, rae rolled her eyes smiling closing the door with a slow subtle creek. she turned when she heard rapid footsteps thundering down the stairs towards her, in a split second a stack of old,dusty music CD’s clattered into her arms “are these?-” the short girl was swiftly cut off by the blonde “yea those are your edge-lord CD’s, you left them at my house last time you came over, i had to hide them from my mum, she claimed they were the devils work, you know her” tanya muttered rushing to the kettle flicking it on. Rae placed the CD’s by her bag at the door sliding off the tall black boots she usually wore in hopes to add a bit of height before wandering into the front room.

The walls were painted a pale homely orange matching the autumn colours outside, the floor consisted of pale wooden floorboards and a yellow carpet beneath a grey sofa positioned towards an old dusty tv on a dark redwood cabinet. Tanya hurried out of the connected kitchen with two steaming cups both filled with the girl's life sustenance, coffee.

“I don't know how you drink black coffee” rae muttered sipping the scolding beverage “and I don't know why you drink yours so hot but you don't see me complaining do you?” the taller replied “well that makes a change doesn't it” rae said to herself, the two bickered like this since they had first met but were truly best of friends, they hadn't seen each other in a little while despite their closeness “so tell me, how was uni” tanya asked pulling her legs up onto the sofa “i dunno it's alright but london is really busy, christ and don't get me started on the trains, why do you think i was late?” the brunette groaned beginning to go into detail on the creep that decided to sit next to her “its a public area rae, other people are allowed to sit down you know” tanya sighed at her seething friend

“Not next to me they aren't, i should have punched him!” she growled

“There there dear we don't want another assault charge do we? How long did they make you work on anger management again?” tanya teased referring to an event in their teenhood, before rae could respond a knocking resonated through the house gaining the girls attention “that'll be my idiot brother” tanya said standing up headed to the door.

Behind the door was a tall messy blonde haired boy with a camera around his neck and a dull blue hoodie with grey patches “hello dearest sister of mine” he spoke loudly with a large grin on his face, james has basically always been a cheerful energetic sort of guy with an almost theatrical air, unless you count the emo phase but we don't talk about that. However, when rae stepped out into the hallway the poor boy's confidence seemed to shrink from a lion to a pitiful mouse as his face flushed and a few beads of sweat seemed to appear “i-i mean hey tanya, how are things?” he corrected leaning awkwardly against the door frame slipping a few times, tanya rolled her eyes pulling him into the now slightly cramped hallway. “Rae, you remember my brother James, he used to play that screamo music whenever you came over to impress you” she smirked watching both her friends flush a bright red before leaving into the front room again.

Both rae and james tried to leave the hallway at once “uh you can go first” james stuttered staring at the apparently very interesting stairs, rae swiftly lurched past him slumping on the sofa next to tanya, james followed timidly “she won't bite james” tanya chuckled before glancing at the brunette “Well i can't promise anything…” both girls slurped their drinks simultaneously filling the awkward silence “didn't a family used to like here… redwoods wasn't it?” Rae muttered trying to lift the mood, she failed when she got a response “yea they left town when the weird one died” tanya said nonshalontly hearing a gasp from james ``you can't say that-``''he died?” rae cut the tall boy off with her own surprise “yea, fell down those stairs” tanya muttered pointing while taking another sip “i don't think he fell” james added getting raes attention “don't listen to him rae, he's full of conspiracies” james squinted at her as she continued “not the best way to go is it, imagine that ‘oh how'd you die?’ ‘oh y'know fell down some stairs’ its a bit pitiful isn't it” to this james pinched her gaining a slap to the hand in response

“you can't say that, were in his house-”

“Our house now, and besides he's dead now, what's he gonna do, rise from the grave to slap me?”

“He might!”

“Oh please, you and your ghost stories”

“What if he's still here!”

“Then I'll say it to his face, he was weird!”

“Guys that's enough”

“Actually rae he was kinda like you”

Rae gasped “I'm not weird, I'm just different!”, tanya giggled “is that what your mum tells you” she remarked as rae jumped up, tanya sprinted into the kitchen trying to avoid her best friends wrath they ran around the kitchen counter before rae tried to climb over the counter receiving a fist full of tea bags thrown at her face in a final,desperate act of self defence. James, finally stifling his laughter, who had been filming them, seemed to realize something they hadn't noticed: “who brought tea?” he asked picking one of the bags up “wasn't me, i hate the vile stuff” tanya remarked, they looked at rae who had just peeled herself off the counter top “well i didn't either” a pause swept over the group before james as always perked up “tea ghost!” he received a light slap up the backside of his head as tanya muttered “enough about ghosts, we have some tidying to do. All three of them winced looking at the mess of loose bits of fruit, teabags and kitchen roll strewn around the place like bunting or Christmas decorations. “Well I'm not helping, I didn't make the mess.” james stated crossing his arms

“I don't even live here. '' James muttered, picking up some oranges and tea bags, turns out going against rae and tanya is a bad idea, they're a good team to say the least. “Just hurry up and clean,'' Tanya growled, chucking the loose scraps of kitchen roll into the bin. Rae chuckled, she had almost always been amused by the sibling squabbling since her and tanya had first met when they were in secondary school. Later they found themselves positioned back on the soft grey sofa “for the last time James, we are not going ghost hunting.”

all the while a slim boy is sat in the attic awaiting discovery...

writtian by emmerson

DISCLAIMER:please do not post this to any other websites or use the charictors without my permission, thanks ^^