#“You taste like Starbursts”
Note
I just had this idea, wouldn’t the smell of the giants be amplified for the smalls? Everything else is amplified. David’s cologne would be overpowering to anyone unfortunate enough to be near him (he would wear it you can not change my mind). Like the bacteria that creates smell would be more/bigger to tinies than to the giants so in my peanut brain it makes sense! I understand if this makes you uncomfortable though as smell is… weird. Just an idea I wanted to share. Have a great day!
Anon, I have made an entire saga on your idea alone.
It just didn't want to work with me! So I made three separate stories, all about 2,000 long, and then I combined them together. I'm not lying when I say I want to write another one to tag onto it.
So I hope you feel validated! We will have peanut-sized brains together because I absolutely agree and love it! AND, I hope you have a great day as well!
Ignorance At Its Finest
Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of murder. Mentions of death. Treating people as lesser than. Unintentionally making someone scared. Being uncaring toward others. Being unsympathetic toward others.
It's all fun and game until Fritz claps back with the 'you smell like'
___________________________
David never thought him wearing cologne would ever be an issue.
Look, he’s a business man. He understands certain things are luxuries, knows the difference between needs and desires.
He’s also a very wealthy man who doesn’t need anyone telling him how to live his life.
Besides, out of everything he has, from the house that’s considered too big for only one person to live in, to the insanely expensive car that sits in his garage and is used once a year, he never thought something that costed a fourth of what one suit in his wardrobe does would make such a ruckus.
Yet here he is.
"Excuse me?”
“The cologne needs to go,” Vincent repeats as he continues to walk toward the door. Because this was stated at the very end of their first meeting, the purple man making it seem as if this is final.
“Hold on!” David exclaims, standing up to follow the other. “You can’t just say-!”
“I did.”
“-there’s no reason-”
“There is.”
“-you have no right-”
That’s when Vincent turns with a look of murder in his eyes. “Oh Davey, I have every right. Besides, it’s just cologne! You’re not going to die without it. The same can’t be said if you keep it, though!”
And that’s how David was left, staring open mouthed after the thing that criticized him for wearing cologne.
He ignores it. Because as much as Vincent terrifies him, it was an inconsequential thing. Honestly he’s unsure how the purple man even knew he was wearing it. Unlike high school boys, he knows how to properly wear it, not to mention it was only spritzed across his neck and not his wrists.
“Go wash your hands and face.”
David knew the name ‘Scott Cawthon’ didn’t belong to a fellow giant. As much as he loathed the idea of one of the lowly creatures technically in a position higher than himself, there wasn’t much he could do.
The only saving grace was the fact the man hadn’t been to his restaurant yet. Only phone calls demanding certain information as well as reviewing the documents that had a singular letter missing. Though it wasn’t certainly fun to realize the resident mutated grape favored the little pest. Meaning when he first hung up on Scott bitching at him, he got a lovely visit, and therefore has to keep himself from so much as accidentally ending the call before his supervisor was truly done.
Today was a special day, however. Apparently, wanting a human to get transferred to his restaurant required a personal visit from the voice over the phone. ‘Ensure the poor boy won’t get stepped on by an egotistical asshole of a giant’ was the exact quote.
When he first spotted the miniscule thing standing in his doorway, he wasn’t impressed. Unlike David as he sits at his desk with gelled hair and a full piece suit, Scott apparently thought appropriate work attire consists of a graphic t-shirt and shirts, his hair left to do as it pleases.
With the words acting as greeting, David’s pissed. “Would you like to repeat that?”
Scott doesn’t hesitate. “Go. Wash. Your. Hands. And. Face.”
“You little-”
“You want a human to come work for you,” the man snaps. “I’m the one who gets to approve or deny your request.”
David glares as it becomes clear Scott does in fact have power over him. And unlike Vincent, someone who should have it considering he stands only an inch shorter than the giant, it’s a human who couldn’t stop being squeezed in a fist or kicked by a shoe.
Yet here they are. Scott having the upper hand with his position in the company, and an extremely dangerous giant who’s at his beck and call.
“May I ask why?” David snarls.
“Your cologne. I know Vince brought it up on your first day.”
Goddamn it!
“What is with you dumbasses and cologne? It’s not like it’s hurting you.”
Scott goes silent. Looks him up and down. “David, out of everyone you could’ve requested to get transferred, why did you want a human?”
He’s not admitting that might’ve only crossed his mind to check once he saw the impressive notes regarding Fritz Smith.
You could’ve backed out.
And let someone waste potential like that?
You own a giant only restaurant. What could a little pest like him do for you?
…that’s a valid question.
“Is this an interrogation?”
“This is an interview. If you have adequate answers for a job description that is nigh-impossible for someone who stands no taller than the fingers of the customers who come here, then we can move onto what you’ll be doing to ensure his safety.”
“I need a face for the restaurant,” David begins with a scowl. “His profile states the animatronics are extremely respectful and mindful of him, some even say they ‘favor’ him. And considering the long list of being fantastic with customer service, glowing reviews, and coworkers stating how reliable he can be as well as the person to go to in any situation, he would be a valuable asset to have him assisting in customer relations while I focus on the business.”
Scott gives a look. “Is it safe to assume you want a secretary?”
Yes.
“My animatronics should be overseen by someone with experience. Considering the dark past Fazbear Corporation hired me specifically to eradicate.”
“God I hate business men.”
“Did I pass your test?” David sneers.
Scott wipes a tired hand over his face. Sighs because he knows the giant is right.
“David, I know this is hard to believe, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. Meaning Fritz will need safety precautions put in place-”
“I’m not an idiot, Scott.”
“-and giants realizing how much they affect humans. This includes your footsteps causing earthquakes, yelling capable of bursting our ear drums, and cologne being almost suffocating.”
David finds himself stopping himself midsentence as the last part registers. Because, of course, he never thought about nor cared how any of his actions effected their smaller counterparts. Not to mention he tries to avoid them all together.
“Aren’t you technically a mile away?”
“I can smell it from here.”
The business man immediately scoffed. “Bull-”
“I’m sure you get plenty of compliments on it, I was getting a nice warm smell with spice undertones when I was first entering the hallway. But standing here, I feel like I’m going to get knocked out from the earthy musk, and the flower doesn’t help mixed in with citrus and chocolate.”
David’s mouth drops for a second before he snaps it shut.
“No more cologne.”
. . .
Fritz is well aware David wears cologne.
When he was first getting transferred, Scott had approached him to ensure he was okay with changing restaurants. And not just the typical checking how far the commute will be and confirming his pay will stay the same or increase. No, the meeting was more in the direction of-
“Your boss will be an egotistical giant who thinks humans are nothing more than pests.”
Honestly, Fritz appreciated the sandy haired man warning him. Despite the older being a human himself, certain things are obvious when someone owns or works for a business that’s categorized as ‘giant only’. He might be a naïve teenager, but it’s impossible to completely avoid belittling comments and actions that every human receives at least once in their life.
Those who live in human only cities might not, but it’s guaranteed working at a restaurant that caters to both counterparts.
“It sounds…interesting.”
Scott had stared at him. “You’re seriously considering it.”
“Think of it this way,” Fritz grinned, held his hands out to physically stop the judgement. “On one hand he was definitely too prideful to back out again once he realized I was human. But if you didn’t immediately tell him no once meeting him, then it sounds like he’s willing to make some changes!”
“And turn you into a stress ball.”
The redhead tensed up at that. Paled at the thought that, if he agreed to it, then he’ll be completely at the whim of not just one giant, but an entire restaurant.
He knows there’s multiple reasons for people wanting to go to only businesses. Taking into account the fact they’re talking about a children’s restaurant, putting giants and humans together isn’t always the best idea. Kids get rowdy, don’t understand the moving action figure is actually a person, and it’s almost impossible to constantly stare at the ground while waiting tables.
Not every giant who works or goes there will treat him like a nuisance who shouldn’t be there.
But for those who do, would he feel comfortable knowing not even his boss cares if he’s safe or not?
“…what’s the updated job description?”
“Greeter,” Scott grunted, watched the surprised expression before he continued. “As well as animatronic watcher, coordinator, and on-hand assistant.”
“Like, on-hand-?”
“I can guarantee you will be grabbed randomly multiple times without being asked first, and not just by David. Your potential coworkers weren’t too happy about me being there. Not as much as your boss, but they won’t respect your preference on how to be picked up. Or if you’d want to be in a hand at all for that matter.”
Fritz looked down in thought. Nearly flinched at someone stepping outside the human hallway they walked in to speak privately.
Snapped his head up with something akin to panic. “Did they touch you-”
“No,” Scott stated gently. Smirked. “They know not to so much as look at me. I’m worried about you.”
Fritz hadn’t known where exactly the human blatantly worried for his safety has in the chain of command. Knew he was the person to go to when it came to hiring, finalizing reports for those who ‘quit’ or got fired, but even a lowly waiter knew the name ‘Scott Cawthon’ held respect and power behind it.
He didn’t have to ask the redhead. Could’ve denied David’s request for any number of reasons without even bringing it up to said employee. Or approved without a second thought and let the teenager get thrown into a circumstance without so much as a warning.
But he had gone to the restaurant. Berated the giant none too fond of those who stand no more than 3 inches tall.
Fritz didn’t want that to be for nothing.
“When can I start?”
Scott sighed. Ruffled his hair. Whacked him upside the head with a look that said ‘you’re an idiot’.
“Tomorrow. And heads up, he wears cologne.”
Fritz was actually confused why that had been a necessary add-on. He works around giants all day long, and never had that been brought up before. He’s noticed when customers and his coworkers come in wearing it, so it’s nothing notable.
He realized why on his first day at his ‘new’ job.
He wasn’t really paying attention at first. David hadn’t been at the door to greet him, instead waiting inside his office just like he had with Scott. Meaning Fritz was more focused on simply surviving the restaurant.
No one would open the door for him. It was Fritz vs. making the perfect timing behind a family while avoiding catastrophic shoes and a slow but very unhuman friendly door.
No one would look at him for more than one second, and even then it was only to sneer down at him. So he had to locate the elusive office himself.
No one would offer a hand either, meaning he was thoroughly terrified trying to get to the wall to travel in safety, forced to sprint as fast as possible and hope some kid didn’t stomp or grab him.
Once he reached the hallway toward the back of the restaurant, had gotten far enough from joyful screams of kids he could actually hear his own thoughts, that’s when he realized two things.
One, he made a terrible mistake agreeing to be transferred.
Two, he could smell something warm with a hint of a spiced undertone.
Fritz didn’t think much of it other than it being a weird second thought. He only continued to travel further into the hallway after spotting a sliver of light escaping from a doorway.
On the plus side, there weren’t any giants walking in and out of the hallway. He was able to take his time and let his racing heart slowly calm down.
But the closer he got, and admittedly worried that if that had been the greeting he received from his coworkers than how is his boss going to react, he couldn’t shake the smell from his thoughts.
It kept getting stronger. Nearly dizzying. He could pick out specific notes from floral, to ‘earthy’, to chocolate.
It hit him as soon as he knocked on the door barely open enough for a human to slip inside. Remembered Scott warning about David wearing cologne.
“I do believe you’re 5 minutes late.”
Fritz tensed up, allowing terror to clench his heart, truly afraid he might be crushed without a second thought. And of course, no one would care. No one would report a lowly human employee ‘disappearing’.
Scott would.
He took a deep breath, nearly choking on the overwhelming smell. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Since the beginning of the meeting, he hadn’t been looked at once. The giant suited man remained turned toward his computer, speaking without even looking at the teenager he wanted to hire. But finally hazel eyes much colder than Scott’s glanced over at him.
“Make sure you’re here ten minutes early tomorrow.”
You know, I wonder what I’d prefer. Death by a glare, or death by suffocation via perfume.
“Yes sir.”
Surprisingly, that was the end of it. No specific task to complete. No instructions on what his first day should have. Not even a tour. He was dismissed.
So Fritz did as Fritz’s do. He found the animatronics and immediately struck a deal of having a safe way of getting around the restaurant as well as back up if need be. The best part? He had a long list of bribes thought of on how to convince them to help, but apparently them interacting with a human was enough to bargain with.
And that was that. He had coworkers he could trust as much as possible because Lefty gets grabby when Orville’s around and a boss who ‘trusted’ him on knowing what to do.
He learned the flow of Fazbear Entertainment Center as well as the rules. It really boiled down to getting work done in a timely manner and never bug David. And that meant, if there’s a problem, you make someone ‘David’.
It used to be the day guard named Greg. Until Greg was faced with the issue that Lefty apparently couldn’t keep his paws off the arcade machines. Their boss said ‘take care of it’ and his giant coworker had no idea what to do.
Fritz knew he wasn’t turned to because they realized he didn’t just teleport from place to place. Knew his giant coworkers didn’t pay attention to who exactly swept him off the counter. With the smug look given before a singsong ‘Red!’ it’s safe to say they thought this would be the thing to get him fired.
It’s a right of passage being ‘David’. Fail, and you’re fired without hesitation. Pass, and you get to keep your job.
“Hey Lefty? What if we challenged each other’s high score on the game you choose. I win, you promise to only play before we open and after we close.”
“I win, and I get to challenge you once a day whenever I want.”
Fritz won. Unlike the bear, his other coworkers thought he was delusional for one, trying to bargain with Lefty, and two, think he could play a machine meant only for giants. As if there’s no fancy electronics that can be plugged into any game and allow him to play normally. And if they cared about his safety, they would’ve realized long ago all of the animatronics not only helped him, but respected him with the things he did to make their day better.
Of course, that problem was an easy fix in his eyes.
The issue was that he became ‘David’.
Sometimes it was about the animatronics fighting. Others it was about his coworkers. But a large portion/ was calming angry customers.
He’ll admit, it was draining. But it earned him a lot of respect being able to navigate the best solution for an upset mother or Greg angry at Lefty for hiding his things.
He loves the bear, but the bear is the bane of his existence.
The thing is, with being ‘David’, the true David Harrison took notice.
“Fritz.”
The redhead had to force himself not to jump at the semi-familiar voice he only distantly heard. Because why would the business man waste his time on lowly employees, especially the one human he hired.
Which was fine with Fritz! He didn’t want to be constantly berated with comments of ‘pest’ or looks of hatred or be terrified he’ll get grabbed in a fist and squeezed as if he’s some kind of living stress ball-
“Yes sir?”
“Are you able to join me in my office?”
I don’t have a choice, do I?
“Of course!”
He should’ve expected it. He was standing on the counter for the register. Near the edge because, with how many times his coworkers both giant and animatronics alike grab him, it makes it easier for everyone to just pluck him from his work.
It scared him with the speed David grabbed him. And then he was overwhelmed by the suffocating smell of vanilla/earth/flower.
He couldn’t breathe. And being held in a tighter fist than most giants didn’t help either.
By the time they got to the office, Fritz simply freed onto the desk to catch himself from falling on his face, he felt light-headed.
It’s a miracle he hadn’t tripped and fell. Not with how he stumbled a few times before standing with his legs apart, hands held straight on either side, the world seeming to spin, and with each deep breath he took he was only slapped with yet another wave of the cologne.
David stared at him with an unamused look. “What are you doing?”
Fritz panted, trying to breathe without perfume tainting the air, coughing as it just seems to be everywhere. “C-Cologne.”
He received a blank stare. And knowing Scott being as thoughtful as he was, he’s sure the eldest guard had made a comment about it.
It looks like he’ll just have to get used to it.
. . .
David realizes he is the only one who doesn’t realize how much his actions effect humans.
He’ll admit, he’s egotistical. And despite the fact he’s a giant and therefore should be knowledge of how his actions effect those no taller than 3 inches less tall, he doesn’t take the time to be self-aware concerning the smaller counterparts until he’s addressed and told he needs to change a few habits.
It happened when he didn’t watch the ground as he walked, something Vincent had to physically yank him back from possibly stepping on Scott.
It happened when he didn’t realize he turns whatever he’s holding into a stress ball, James seemingly appearing to save Fritz with the redhead too panicked to speak.
It happened when he allowed himself to forget he had a human in his pocket, Mike promising to kick his ass if he ever forgot about a Jerber, and by extension, Irish Jig, Egged Jackass, Hell Spawn, or Phone Guy ever again.
David trusts the others to tell him when he needs to pay more attention, or change something in his routine. Not because he truly trusts them, but because he has much better things to do than realize what the humans he interacts with need.
The only problem is, while the other giants are more self-aware and therefore will watch and teach him how to ensure no one gets severely injured by his hands, they don’t know everything. And if one of his human ‘coworkers’ ever brought up something to him, he would’ve forgotten about it in seconds.
That’s what he believed happened with his cologne. Because Vincent doesn’t count when it came to his first week of meeting the mutated grape.
The only time David remembers anyone bringing up his cologne was during a birthday party at what’s considered Fazbear Entertainment’s ‘first location’. Considering Mike’s the night guard, he’s usually asked to assist the day guard to ensure everyone is safe. Especially due to the restaurant being a mixed one for humans and giants alike, a large party can become concerning.
The only problem was Mike getting sick and needing to stay home.
If this had been before multiple locations being shut down and needing to turn a new leaf less the entire franchise is shut down for good, any human would’ve been asked. Meaning Jeremy would’ve been contacted, though most likely Scott being forced to take his place.
But this was after. So to keep up the good name David bent over backwards to accomplish, a giant had to be found.
Vincent was an obvious no. James apparently had classes to attend.
That’s why David of all people got summoned.
“You do realize I’m a restaurant owner,” he growled down at Scott. Who, surprisingly, hadn’t looked smug in the slightest seeing him at Mike’s location instead of his own. More just looked tired.
He hated it more that Fritz, Eggs, and Scott had been told to come as well. But apparently three humans working together can’t replace an actual giant.
“David, I might be your supervisor, but Afton had to approve someone ‘unqualified’ to take role of a day guard.”
“No one’s qualified.”
“That’s why I put air quotes around it. Just watch for any humans getting grabbed. Mike can do it, so it can’t be that hard.”
David knew what the bastard was doing, comparing him to Mike of all people. But it worked, and he fell silent. Obediently watched the running kids. Upset with himself he had forgotten to bring earplugs considering he can’t duck into his office once a headache began to form.
Realized with a start Fritz had seemingly disappeared from the human area.
In the back of his mind, he knew the redhead at worked at that location previous to being transferred. He also was aware that, despite Mike being Mike, their lead guard knew how to protect both humans and giants alike. Was arguably the best for keeping track and stopping some brat from snatching someone up before it happened.
David doesn’t really watch his only human employee in the giant only restaurant he owns. He both loathes and appreciates the comparison, but he is a bit like Afton in the way Scott is protected purely by name and association across all locations. Everyone who comes into Fazbear Entertainment Center knows Fritz is his human that is never to be touched.
But unlike Afton, no one at Freddy Fazbear’s know the redhead is his. Not when he’s only stopped at the location previously to draft plans on better improving the reputation past the ‘rumors’ of murder and missing night guards.
David cursed before quickly leaving his post, eyes scanning across tables in the hopes of spotting a living action figure having been abandoned. He moved onto searching the floor, wanting to not think about any human attempting to dodge and hide from giants unknowing and uncaring if the smaller counterparts ended up underfoot.
While his search was methodical, he didn’t see a single glimpse of a human. No miniscule flame of-
“HARRISON!”
David froze. Turned toward where he could’ve sworn he heard “Eggs?”
“TABLE! PARTY HAT!”
The business man hadn’t known what he was expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been the human mechanic breathing in relief when a cheap purple and red hat was lifted up to free him. Yet there he was, and David had no choice but to offer a hand that was immediately leapt onto.
Despite the fact Fritz was still missing, he took a moment to look at the chosen item to keep Eggs trapped. “Were you yelling my name the entire time?”
“If you ever became a human 101,” the blond began, slumped into the curled fingers cupped protectively against the giant’s chest. “Don’t ever make a sound until you know a trusted giant is around.”
“How the hell did you know it was me?”
“Dude, I can smell you from a mile away. We need to get Fritz from Freddy, though.”
The idea of Eggs apparently smelling him left his mind the second the human he specifically went looking for was brought up. “Freddy as in…”
Eggs gave him a look like he was losing it. “Fazbear? How many Freddy’s do you know!”
David rolled his eyes. Dropped the blond into his suit pocket. Made his way over to the animatronics locked on stage. “How would I immediately assume Freddy Fazbear had him.”
“Because despite that fact he’s your employee,” said bear begun with a growl, David left frozen at the hostile tone. “You allowed someone to grab him right in front of you.”
“Have anything to say for yourself, David?” Chica added, looking smug as hell.
David. Demeaning and angry attitudes. He had forgotten not all locations were like his animatronics, programmed to address everyone formally by last name and be nothing more than passive aggressive.
“It’s busy,” the giant bristled. “And I realized he was missing and went looking for him. Now hand him over.”
Freddy’s ears flicked unhappily, but his paw offered the redhead as Bonnie snipped “Shit wouldn’t have let either of them get swiped.”
“Well I’m not Mike. Your fucked up night guard will be back by tonight.”
The animatronics didn’t say anything else as he walked away. Or maybe they had, and he was too focused on checking Fritz over for injuries.
“Mr. Harrison, I’m fine,” told him the human had been more shaken up than he let on, voice wavered and hands shook as his prodding fingers were shoved away. “Thank you for finding us.”
“Thanks for trapping me in a pocket, bitch!”
Scott agreed to forcing the two to have a time out once they were put where they belonged. It wasn’t able to be long, not with the party still scheduled for another hour, but David didn’t let any of the three out of his sight after that.
That’s what lands them to now, with him frozen at the door after walking in for their weekly get-together after Eggs called over to him.
“Harrison, is that a new perfume?”
David mentally stumbles over his words until he finally manages a few. “You can smell it from there?”
He can barely see where the blond stands on a table several feet away. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t unnerved and hoping it was guessed purely to try and get inside his head.
He can’t even confirm the miniscule head is tilting in confusion. “Uh, yeah?”
No fucking way.
“No you can’t.”
“Still an earthy smell like your other one,” Scott joins in, freezing David in his tracks once again. “There’s a really small hint of vanilla instead of chocolate. Vince would be the one who can name the flower if he was here tonight, but that’s different too.”
How in the hell-
“Please tell me it’s not on your wrists,” Fritz pipes up if a bit tiredly.
“What’s that supposed to mean!”
At the sound of him being almost distraught, everyone at the table looks over at him, the humans exchanging looks.
“David,” Scott probes. His gentle tone encourages the giant to finally walk the last stretch to the table. “Do you realize just how much your cologne affects us?”
“No.”
“Vince told me he addressed it with you on your first day,” the human deadpans.
David can believe that. He’s also aware of how much the purple man is a bitch.
“I had also made a comment…” Eggs prods.
Yes. Though it was small. And again, he can’t trust the blond for shit.
Scott face palms as frustration slowly appears. “I also told you when we first met.”
Now David does not remember that in the slightest.
The business man looks the information over in his head. Turns it this way and that. Comes to the conclusion the humans in their group including Fritz are being dramatic. Though it’s hard to explain knowing the key notes to his newest cologne, Eggs could’ve found out and did reckon before tonight just to mess with him.
Despite being silent before, James straightens up. “So, much like how our voices are loud even when we’re whispering, smells act in the same way.”
David doesn’t miss Fritz glancing between him and the horror guard. “Right. When giants wear cologne or perfume, it’s pretty potent. Sometimes gets a little overwhelming, especially around the wrists if we’re picked up.”
“Then it might be a good idea we’re conscious of not wearing too much. Never on the wrists.”
David knows what James was doing. This is how he explained humans shouldn’t be treated like a stress ball at least unknowingly, a calm and specific explanation so it’s easy to understand.
Of course, it works. He’ll change his habits concerning putting cologne on before leaving the house. “You’ll just have to deal with it tonight.”
“Because James said something,” Scott snaps.
“Be happy I'm listening at all.”
“Because you never do!” the eldest guard exclaims, standing up as he begins to gesture. “I guarantee Fritz brought up not being able to breathe at least three times before giving up. I did bring it up and proved it when we first met, but you didn’t bother to even remember. Eggs constantly patronizes you with comments regarding it. But you don’t listen until a God damned giant tells you!”
Well I can trust a giant’s judgement, I can’t trust a human’s.
David nearly says it. And then he sees Fritz’s expression like he’d been betrayed.
“I…hadn’t realized,” the giant says carefully.
Scott narrows his eyes. Eggs makes a motion that says ‘bullshit’.
“In the future,” David sighs. “I will try to listen better.”
“Bet $50 it’ll last a week at the most.”
“$100 it’s two,” the business man immediately fires back at the smug looking blond.
“I’ll give it a day,” Scott snarls.
#thank you anon!#i am so sorry for how long it took#just would not want to be finished#but we did it HAHA#thank you for being so considerate ^^#but there ain't really anything I won't enjoy writing#and besides that's DEFINITELY something Fritz would clap back with#“You taste like Starbursts”#“You smell like chocolate on fire”#it's cannon David wears cologne now#g/t#giant#tiny#FNAF bois#Ignorance At Its Finest#BTE writing#answer#cw#content warning
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Sttaw berry
#this picture is awful im so sorry#astr.txt#however i want you all to know they taste exactly like strawberry starburst#food
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Me: pretty sure all my stomach issues lately have something to do with all the fizzy drinks filled with fake sugars
Also me: goes to the grocery store specifically to stock up on fake lyrics sweetened fizzy drinks
#but seriously have you tasted the Starburst sparkling ice?#the orange ones taste like creamsicles#and frannie's vanilla? cheap vanilla soda with caffeine!#and then my brother talked me into making another stop to try buffalp cheetos crunchy...#which I'm not going to be dumb about and wil try another day#when my stomach isn't being like this#i am drinking a creamsicle sparkling ice though#because i cannot help myself with this stuff lol#my landlord took me to a pancake breakfast this morning and im still full#i think i ate too many eggs and potatoes but yum free breakfast!
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eddie fucking you in the back of his van whilst it’s raining😫
hope you like it lovie!! — after a series of ruined date nights, eddie makes up for another failure the only way he knows how (established relationship, smut 18+, 1.4k)
fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
Eddie was gonna take you out, come hell or high water — literally.
It was like the universe was conjuring up ways to keep you apart. He tries to plan a date night with you, and suddenly you have to pick up your coworker’s extra shift and the brakes in his van don’t work anymore.
He takes you to a drive-in to see some black-and-white horror movie, and for the first time in weeks, things are actually looking pretty good. With some candy he brought from home, the two of you settle under the covers in the back of his van, lazing against one another as the projector flickers on.
And then it just starts fucking pouring.
It’s like he blinks and the whole thing gets canceled and the entire parking lot is empty.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he grumbles under his breath, not unlike the black storm clouds rolling overhead.
You giggle at his dramatics. The heavenly sound melts with the wild cadence of rain, tapping rhythmically against the rusted tin roof of the van.
You’re still being a good sport about the whole thing despite the circumstances. You don’t care what you’re doing, really. You’re happy just doing nothing with Eddie.
“They refunded us for next week. We can just come back Saturday.”
“I wanted to do it this Saturday,” he whines, all boyishly angry. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leans his head back and bares his milky white neck. “This was supposed to be our night together— why does everything have to get so fucked all the time?”
“It’s not like everything’s totally ruined,” you assure him, practically cooing as you smooth out the frown between his brows with your thumb. “At least we’re together. Who cares about the rest of it?”
“I know, but… You were really excited about it. And I was really excited to watch you watch the movie.”
Eddie tries to be serious, but he’s grinning the second he makes you laugh.
“Shut up…”
“I mean it,” he tells you, serious and quiet with it. His cheek squishes against his shoulder when he pouts at you. “I think I might be heartbroken, babe.”
You know what he’s playing at. You lean into it, anyway.
“Yeah?” you hum with narrowed eyes.
He nods.
“Want me to make it better?”
“Please?”
You close the short distance between you to press a kiss to his mouth. It’s the chastest little peck — you’re practically gone the second you’re there. Eddie chases you when you pull away, tasting of nicotine and pink starbursts when he kisses you deeper.
You get lost in him like it’s nothing, sighing when his soft tongue juts gently against your own. He’s sucking softly at your bottom lip one second, and the next, you’re lying on a pile of fuzzy blankets.
His rings and cold knuckles brush your sides when he tugs at the hem of your shirt, a silent plea for its removal. You come to then, pulling back from him with a low click sounding between your kissed mouths.
“Wait…”
“What?” he wonders, lips rosy and swollen. His deep, chocolate eyes dart between both of yours, looking for any sign that something might be wrong.
“Won’t we get in trouble?”
“No— Everyone already left.”
He’s breathless from having been kissed so ardently. He leans down for more anyway. His stomach twists with rejection when you press against his shoulders to stop him.
With a sigh, he concedes and rises off of you again. His shirt is wrinkled and skewed around his neck from your passionate touches. Still on his knees, he reaches for the metal handle of the back door and shouts into the roaring rain — “Hello? Anyone out here?”
“Eddie!” you shout, giggling and jerking backward when rogue droplets sprinkle inside.
The van shakes when he slams the door shut again.
“See?” he lilts with a lopsided grin. “No one.”
You shake your head at him. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
“You love me, though,” he mutters as he settles back over you. The weight of his body is warm against your own. With your hands on his sides, you pull him somehow closer.
“Unfortunately…” you gripe, kissing the breath from his lungs a second later.
When he reaches for the hem of your shirt again, you let him take it off.
—————
The thundering rain against the roof almost drowns out your gentle moans. Eddie’s glad you’re breathing them right into his ear, so he can hear everything he’s doing to you.
His thrusts are slow and measured. Almost painfully unrushed. He shushes your begging to go faster — “Just let me make you feel good,” he mutters, slurred and low, “Let me hit that spot.” He pierces you with his cock, tilting his hips to hit deep inside you until you make a pretty noise for him, then he creeps back out again.
He never pulls all the way out, though, ‘cause he might die if he left the warm velvet you are around him. He keeps his pelvis pressed intently against your own, the coarse hair at the base of his cock steady on your pussy. The pressure against your clit is merciless.
“Put your legs around me, baby,” he mumbles against your mouth because he knows the different angle will make it better for you.
He almost smirks when you obey him without thinking, but his mouth parts with an unexpected moan before he can. You pull your knees back and tuck your ankles around his waist, heels pressing gently above his ass.
Your cunt widens and suckles him further in.
Eddie grumbles a hearty, poorly muffled moan into your neck.
“There you go— just like that,” he praises. “Doing so good for me, pretty. Always so good for me.”
You whine again, high and light, like the praise is equally as pleasurable as his cock.
His metal chain glides between your breasts when he pulls back from you. He tucks his ringed fingers into your waist and sits back on his haunches, balls resting warm and wet against your ass. He keeps rocking into you, unhurried.
“What happened to that mouth you had before, huh?” Eddie wonders, still breathless.
He smirks when you moan in response. He knows you don’t have the words to answer him. He knows he’s fucked you far too stupid.
“Thought I was incorrigible, remember? What happened to that?”
Your mouth parts in a silent whimper, back arching and brows pinching when his cock hits deeper than you think he’s ever been. The pleasure feels borderline electric — makes your spine tingle and your legs go numb.
“Yeah… For someone who loves mouthing off—” Eddie continues to tease despite his breathlessness. You clench around him, and he has to remember to exhale. “—You open up so easily for me. Don’t ya, honey?”
You wanna say something. You think you almost do. But his thrusts are as merciless as they are slow. He presses impossibly deep within you and keeps hitting that spot until you tremble. The words get caught in your throat, along with a silent moan.
“That’s okay, honey. Just let me fuck you. Let me make you feel good,” Eddie slurs, mumbling like he’s talking to himself. “Go dumb for me like you always do. So perfect at that— god.”
He tilts his head back to howl a groan. Through fluttering lashes and a blurry vision, you see his clenched jaw and taut neck and heaving chest.
Eddie always talks a big game when he gets you all sweet and pliable underneath him. He loves to be dominant while he tears you apart, but as his own orgasm crawls up his spine, his true colors start to show.
He leans back over you again, caging you beneath his warm weight. He stops hiding his pathetic whines and whimpers and instead buries them into your sweat-slick shoulder. He babbles in your ear, a bunch of garbled nothingness because words are starting to lose meaning.
“Fuck, honey. Oh, fuck— you’re so fucking— shit. You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, you know that? So good for me. So soft, too. Shit. This pussy’s gonna kill me.”
He tucks his face into your neck and tries to kiss you through his whines. His ringed fingers crawl behind your back, holding you like his life depends on it while his measured thrusts grow rapid and sloppy.
Eddie begs you to cum, or rather demands it because he can feel himself about to explode. “Cum— Cum for me— right fucking now.”
You do. You’ve been hanging by a thread the whole time, really. And like you expected, Eddie’s not too far behind you. Your unabashed moans entwine, mixing with the wild cadence of the rain against the tin roof of the rocking van.
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#stranger things x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble#event: fictober!
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This wasn't going to be more than a little one-off. But due to popular demand, here's a part two. 😄
Back to the Past part 2
CW: Brief panic attack
Part 1
"I... uh. What?"
Eddie, because Steve is certain now that this is, in fact, Eddie Munson, frowns a little. "Memories," he says, firmly but not unkindly. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Uh." Steve's brain is racing, but not with anything particularly helpful.
He and Robin are going to the high school again to help with relief efforts. There's a strange guy named Argyle staying in Steve's guest room. He's taking Dustin to meet Wayne Munson soon. They have been given permission to recover whatever they can from the Munson trailer. Dustin wants to help because Eddie is-
Eddie is-
Eddie is sitting right in front of him, watching him with those big, dark eyes. He's being so patient, waiting for Steve to finish whatever processing he needs to do, but honestly, the only thing that truly catches Steve off-guard is the fact that Eddie is-
"You're alive."
Eddie's frown deepens for a moment before he seems to understand what Steve is saying. Once he does, though, he grins, wide and happy and contagious, just like Steve remembers.
"Yeah, Stevie, I'm alive."
"You're old."
Eddie collapses back against his pillow and bursts into laughter. Deep, belly-shaking laughter that has Steve biting back a smile.
When he catches his breath again, Eddie looks up at him with shining eyes. "Of course the two things you focus on are our wedding photos and my age."
"You aren't freaking out."
"Neither are you," Eddie counters, and he's right.
Strangely enough, Steve isn't panicking. Actually, in the last few moments with Eddie and the comfort of warm blankets and his warmer laughter, Steve's breathing had evened out again.
"What's going on? You don't seem surprised."
Eddie sighs and lifts his arms, crossing them behind his head. He shifts, putting a little more distance between their bodies. Steve wonders if he's done that on purpose.
Then Eddie's feet wiggle under the covers, trying not to kick the sleeping cat as he shuffles the heavy comforter down his body. Steve's eyes immediately drift down as his torso, and the scars, come into view.
They're horrific; slashes and starbursts and a whole chunk missing from his side just below his ribcage -
And suddenly Steve is there, in the Upside Down. His hands are covered in blood, Eddie's blood, and he can't breathe without tasting the stench of death and decay on the back of his tongue and his heart rate spikes as he darkness starts to tunnel his vision.
But Eddie, alive and smiling and laughing Eddie, is there, gripping his arm firmly and talking to him.
"Stevie, focus on me. Come on, love, I know you can do it. Focus on my voice and breathe with me." A large hand falls onto his chest, warm against his naked skin, and he does what Eddie tells him.
He focuses on Eddie's voice and his toucb and breathes with him until the darkness fades and he finds himself in an unfamiliar bedroom again.
"Good job, Steve. Now, can you count with me?"
Counting. Steve can do that. He knows he can, and he does until his breathing calms again. He's sweaty, and the cool air of the bedroom stings his skin. One of them has tossed away the covers, and the cat has disappeared, and he's sitting half naked in bed with Eddie Munson. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but the lingering panic and adrenaline only let him cry, and so he does, leaning against the familiar stranger beside him.
-----
Part 3
Tag list-
@clumsiluni @l0st-strawberry @aol19 @newtstabber
Lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list 💜
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Mad Spring - sour gummies, you feral little goblin. Tangfastics. Airheads. Sour Patch Kids. Like High Summer, you choose fruit-flavored gummy sweets, but you pick ones coated in Pain Sugar. It isn’t enough to just get sugar: you’re chasing a different Sensory Experience (TM) than the rest. And that’s great.
Warm Spring - white chocolate, ruby chocolate, pastel mint drops, cotton candy, bubblegum. Marshmallows. Sweet, creamy, usually pastel. You have no particular objection to floral tastes like lavender and rose. You may be able to appreciate Turkish Delight.
Midsummer - tropical fruits: chewy and slightly creamy in pastel colors. Starburst/Opal Fruit, Creamsicles/Solero. Maoam strips. Cream sodas. Skittles, despite being jewel-toned, are in this season. Coconut and pineapple flavors go here. Also the home of chalky-type sweets like Love Hearts/candy hearts, smarties (usa) and You may be also able to appreciate Turkish Delight.
High Summer - Gummy bears and chewy, jellyish, jammy, gummy, springy in bright jewel tones. Gummy worms and jelly snakes, jelly babies, jelly beans, Haribo. Clearer and gummier than Midsummer.
Autumn Night - darker and more complex sweetness, often including an element of burning or alcohol, or another challenge. Cherry cordials, marzipan, champagne truffles. Also home of burnt-sugar tastes: maple candy, bonfire toffee, candy corn. Also home of matcha; red liquorice; red bean paste. When people bring you sweets from other countries, they’ll choose unusual local delicacies. You almost certainly were fascinated as a kid by lollipops at the science museum sold with real bugs in them.
Autumn Salt - peanut butter and peanut brittle, salted caramel, toffee, butterscotch. Toffee popcorn, Reese’s Peanut Butter cups, Snickers, Daim. If nobody has any nuts, you’ll choose chocolate with nuts, crisp or crunch over other things. Sweet just isn’t enough.
Winter Spice - herbal, spicy and medicinal sweets, usually hard old-fashioned sweets. Red-hots, burning cinnamon, chilli - eucalyptus, root beer, menthol; sarsaparilla. Hard candy, generally: old fashioned ‘boiled sweets,’ things that look gorgeous in glass jars. Parma violets. Fisherman’s Friends. You’re the only person who would eat a gingerbread house after decorating it. You’re also possibly a ghost, or used to be a Mad Spring. It’s also about the SENSATION.
Midwinter - dark black Licorice. Salty? Sweet? saltlakrids? Allsorts? Australian? You might like other things too, but when your loved ones are in another country, they go to the licorice aisle and get you the weirdest local variant they can find.
Long Winter - true chocolate, basic chocolate stuff: M&Ms. Dairy Milk. Hershey’s Kiss. But also home of fudgy tastes and sugar-on-sugar in a long slow sauce. Marshmallow, Handmade fudge, Phish Food ice cream.
Cool Winter - naturally, the homebase of minty tastes. peppermint wheels, York’s Peppermint Patties, After Eights. Also orange - chocolate orange - and, oddly, pixie sticks/sherbet and other sweet things that involve eating simple flavored sugar.
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youre doomscrolling through twitter to try and distract yourself from your empty stomach and empty wallet when you come across some inspiration porn about a delivery driver who collapsed on a customers front porch. the homeowner turned out to be an emt and after seeing her fall with the help of his doorbell-mounted security camera he was able to perform the necessary first aid and rush her to the hospital, and even started a fund to pay for her medical bills after the footage went viral. in the end she not only raised enough money to pay her bills but enough to quit her delivery job for good.
broke and desperate, a dangerous idea begins to take root in your brain. you are not currently a delivery driver, but youve dabbled, and you do have some experience taking bad falls, as well as punches, kicks, and the occasional elbow to the sternum. you have tried worse things for less money.
you order a pizza and cram yourself into a passable looking red polo tee and khakis. googling "rich doctors near me" doesnt exactly yield the results you were looking for, but it gives you enough of a jumping off point, and in only a few clicks you have an address. the multiple conspicuous security cameras mounted around the property look promising. never mind that the couple that lives here (two doctors! how lucky can you get.) didnt actually order the pizza; you can cross that bridge when you come to it. you approach the front steps, making sure to be well in view of at least one of the cameras at all times, stagger, and then take a dive, smashing face-first into one of those decorative fake rocks uppermiddleclassers love for some reason. you try to embody an air of pitiability as you go down.
you lie there a moment, face down in a strangers rock garden, tasting your own blood as it drips lazily from your nose. after some thirty seconds have passed it occurs to you that you maybe should have done something to check that the couple are actually home first. still you dont get up just yet, and a moment later you are rewarded.
you hear multiple sets of footsteps shuffle onto the porch, stopping short as their owners catch sight of your limp body. you plan to feign unconsciousness at least until they turn you over, so they can see your face, see the very real blood and bruising. you wouldnt want them to think you were faking or anything. after what feels like far too long a pause, a soft, feminine voice says,
"theyre still breathing."
"lucky," says the man, his voice something breathless and thick with gravel.
"i'll take the legs, you take the arms."
and then you are being lifted, carried with no small effort up the steps and into the house. they must be bringing you somewhere more comfortable to treat your injuries. you crack open one eye but all you manage to see from your unfortunate position is a few glimpses of the immaculately clean hardwood, the carpet, the marble tile. your prone body swings like a hammock between them, and soon all their jostling and this blurry upside-down view combined with the iron taste lingering on your tongue starts to make you feel vaguely sick until you have to shut your eyes again.
at last you are deposited on a cold, hard surface, the chill of it seeping through your bloody polo and up your spine. youre no longer lying limp and motionless because youre still hoping to pull off this grift; any half-baked hopes have been chased out by a creeping sense of dread, and you know somewhere in your gut that the moment you open your eyes you will have to face that dread and name it.
a mechanical murmur followed by a harsh clank and the sensation of icy metal closing around your wrists and ankles wrenches the privilege of hesitation from you. you gasp and your eyes fly open. the starburst of harsh white light that greets them reminds you distantly of a childhood trip to the dentist.
"good morning, sunshine," that syrupy voice from earlier chirps at you. squinting through the brightness, you make out two figures of similar stature dressed in vomit green medical scrubs that appear to have been hastily pulled over their ordinary clothes. the man is washing his hands in a small sink somewhere off past your feet. the woman is securing a paper mask, though even with her mouth covered, you can still see the smile pushing up her high sculpted cheekbones to the point where she seems barely able to keep her eyes open.
her skin is like a smooth putty, not a wrinkle or pore or freckle in sight, as if there were a layer of pink latex pulled taut over her real face.
"you came just in time," the man, her husband, calls over his shoulder as he shakes his hands dry and reaches for a box of gloves. "we didnt know where we were going to find another subject, and then, out of nowhere, there you were." he turns and steps into the light, and the face that stares down at you is a lidless mass of pulsing purple-red veins, hairless, damp with sweat already (you hope its sweat). a narrow arrow nose with nostrils too thin to take in breath sits above a rosy sphincter of a mouth, before that too is covered by a mask.
if you manage to scream, you cant hear it over the relentless whine of whatever machine sits just outside of your periphery, just out of reach no matter how you twist and strain at the manacles holding you in place, and the ringing in your own ears.
"youre just what the doctor ordered."
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BG3 CHARACTERS AS CANDY
Just my headcanons 🥰
Laezel
hot tamales. God these burn my soul but I feel like the pain is pleasure for her.
Halsin
Swedish fish. Shaped like fishy’s and sweet :’) he’d probably be amazed just by the shape of these. Definitely is popping in a couple at a time
Gale
I feel like Gale has old taste, idk 😭 so — here’s some butterscotch candy. Depending on who you ask they either LOVE or HATE these.
Shadowheart
Chocolate lover. She could tell you which ones are cheap and good quality. White, milk, dark, cookies and cream? Oh yeah — that’s for her.
Astarion
Gushers, something for him to suck the juice out of for a fun treat. These would probably get all stuck up in his fangs tho 😂
Karlach
sweet baby, ik she’d love a lollipop with some gum in the middle as a reward. She’d probably even blow some bubbles afterwards 🥹
Wyll
Starbursts. He’d totally be trying to suck off these bad boys from his teeth. I get the vibe that his favorite flavor would be the orange ones.
Minthara
Black licorice…These are soo bitter, but Minthara would be that one person to absolutely obliterate these
Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!
#bg3 headcanons#bg3#baldurs gate 3#bg3 wyll#gale bg3#astarion bg3#bg3 gale#bg3 astarion#halsin bg3#bg3 halsin#lae'zel#bg3 lae'zel#shadowheart#minthara#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 fluff#bg3 fic#karlach#wyll ravengard
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Haiii orla (՞ . .՞)ฅ” i have a just a small request, what do you like König or any Task Force 141 members favorite sweets would be?
also have a wonderful day, drink water and take care of yourself!
141 + könig favourite sweets :3 🍰🍭🧁🍬
i'm a firm believer that john price doesn't enjoy overly sweet desserts and treats. although, he enjoys licorice, as well as fudge and toffee. if you hand him some skittles, or sour patch kids, he'll gag and spit it out... doesn't do well with sourness whatsoever, and prefers chewy caramel, or fudge!
on the other hand, soap mactavish is a fiend for sweet treats. as he's scottish, i can see him liking scottish tablet, as well as empire biscuits. i also believe he'd like sour and sweet treats, as well as biscuits with jam.
simon riley likes chocolate, although, he's not too big on certain sweets. like captain price, he enjoys licorice, but he can also get behind stuff like haribos, or starbursts. he wouldn't turn down something sweet, but he goes absolutely insane for anything including chocolate. (is also a fan of custard doughnuts, as well as chocolate filled.)
like simon, gaz garrick also enjoys custard filled treats. custard creams, custard filled donuts, or having custard on the side of a brownie. he also adores chocolate flavoured sweets, but also enjoys sour candy. gaz is always complaining that it's not sour enough – he can handle a lot...
könig enjoys mostly everything – aside from licorice and anything mint flavoured. he doesn't enjoy mint flavoured chocolate (like i've stated before), but be goes crazy for most desserts. adores brownies, and makes fantastic homemade, chocolate brownies. enjoys sweeter tasting treats, but CANNOT stand anything sour – trust me, he'll scrunch his face up (he may shed a tear, or two...)
#orla speaks#könig call of duty#konig x reader#könig x reader#soap mactavish fanfic#soap mactavish headcannons#soap headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost headcanon#ghost simon riley#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz headcanons#captain price cod#captain price headcanons#captain price x reader
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What NCT's cum taste like.
Taeil: Grass, you know the way fresh cut grass smells on a summer day. Yeah it tastes like that.
Johnny: Battery acid, straight battery acid. Will actually sting your lips. Do not swallow for your own well being.
Taeyong: Straight sugar, it skips right past tasting salty to tasting like sugar, specifically powdered sugar.
Yuta: Cocaine, he doesn't even do cocaine but like it just tastes like a hard drug. Do not go back for more.
Kun: Lemon San Pellegrino, extremely hydrated close to having no taste but he likes his fancy water.
Doyoung: You know the way a doctor's office smells, just extremely clean and sterile with a hint of the older doctor's cologne, Yeah that's what it tastes like.
Ten: Tropical fruit punch, he drunk his pineapple juice he knows what to do.
Jaehyun: Battery Acid part two, but it burns the back of your throat and your coughing for air and you want to smack him for asking you to swallow that.
Winwin: Nothing with a hint of blueberry and menthol, hydrated but not enough, you can still taste his habits.
Jungwoo: Candy, jolly ranchers, starbursts, Skittles, blow pops, he's more high fructose corn syrup than man.
Mark: watermelon and hot pockets, no explanation needed.
Xiaojun: Mint, just like straight peppermint oil, it's like you gave a candy cane a blow job
Hendery: Fresh homemade lasagna, and he says it's me Mario when he climax's
Renjun: Sparkling water, lemons, berries, beauty and talent. You should thank him for it.
Jeno: Cheese, specifically canned cheese and flat diet Pepsi.
Haechan: Sour patch kids, need I say more.
Jaemin: Straight black coffee.
Yangyang: Monster, Red Bull, and a blue raspberry vape
Chenle: Hot unfiltered tap water, it's literally boiling hot, call a doctor.
Jisung: Balloons, cause he's still wearing the condom and is afraid to take it off.
#nct#nct 127#johnny suh#nct dream#taeyong#yuta#wayv#nct scenarios#nct smut#doyoung#kun#taeil#ten lee#Winwin#Jaehyun#Jungwoo#Mark lee#Xiaojun#Hendery#renjun#jeno#Haechan#Jaemin#Yangyang#Chenle#Jisung
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late night soju chat
summary. in which, haechan has been coming home late the past few days because of work and you’ve been up every time he returns.
pairings. haechan x streamer!reader (f)
genre. fluff, established relationship, idol!au
warnings. reader is drinking (legal), i also do not know the gaming/streaming lingo that well so (･_･;
—
“oh yeah! i’m really excited for the legend of zelda tears of the kingdom.. the sequel to breath of the wild.” you answer to the viewer who commented asking if you preordered the game yet. “i did get the collectors edition though, first, i thought i shouldn’t, but i ended up getting it.” you take another shot of soju easily, the liquid going down your throat as you tilted your head back in a quick motion.
user omg yes the inclusions are so pretty!!
user i’d get it just for the art book cus link <3
the digital clock by your monitor reads 2:15. the chat already pointed out how they can tell you’re tired, but you told them you can manage and wait.
“chat, strawberry soju and the strawberry milkis is so dangerous. it literally tastes like a fruit punch or the pink starburst.” you exclaim, finishing pouring a bit of the flavored milk and yogurt drink into the shot of the soju.
user don’t drink sm!!
user soju is so good oml
you scoff, “guys this is like my third one, don’t worry!” you attempt to assure the chat. you’ve done a few streams drunk, and thankfully those times you were under the influence, your boyfriend was watching and about two doors down. one time you fell asleep on your chair, and you fell asleep for a good fifteen minutes til haechan came to the rescue and ended the stream for you.
user where’s haechan when we need him
user i’m so tired lmao
user when are u dropping merch
“haechan should be on his way home,” you reply to your screen. “he’s gonna be super tired so i’ll end it when he gets here.” haechan’s schedule has been hectic these past few days, leaving in the early mornings and coming home late at night. he’s told you that you don’t have to wait up for him and to go ahead and sleep, not wanting you to stay up for him. but you barely see him throughout the day, so you’d like to greet him when he walks through your door. finally, kissing his lips and hugging him tightly, rubbing his tense muscles.
you're looking through the art book and showing chat a few pages that had you squealing. a game that you've been playing since you were a child, it was definitely your number one favorite and you're glad your followers are finding interest and are even up at this hour with you.
user i can't believe nintendo sent this to u early D: that's such a big thing yn im so happy for u!!!!
you smile after taking another shot. "thank you user, i know, when i saw the big ass box in my mail i was over the fucking moon. and i was holding myself back from opening it as soon as i got it, but i decided to wait and open it with you guys." you told your viewers honestly, preparing another shot.
user oh i can't wait for ur tears of the kingdom gameplay !!
user aye lemme get a sip
"user thank you for the 1,000 bits!"
your house was pretty quiet, of course, at this hour of the night. but past your headphones you heard rustling from outside your streaming room door. you moved your headphone off one ear to listen in.
you slightly gasped into your mic, with a grin. "chat i think haechan just got hoooome!" you took the shot that you had prepared earlier.
"this is so good," you hummed quietly.
user haechan is hoooome
user my fav couple <3
"haechan? baby?" you called out.
you hear a few sounds going off in your headphone, mostly being subs and cheers asking about haechan and some about you.
"yn? babe, you're still up?" you hear haechan from the hallway and his footsteps coming closer, he knocks on your door before peeking his head through the cracked door.
"hello handsome, i missed you." you greeted him from your gaming chair, holding out your arms for him to walk into them so you could embrace him. he drops his leather bag by the door and immediately takes the steps to you with a tired smile. he was dressed in the same clothes he was in when he left in the early morning.
he groans softly in your hold, you squeeze his frame and rub his back soothingly, trying to offer as much relief from his tiring day.
user haechan!!!
user YOOOO
user aww look at them :(
he acknowledges that you are streaming but he doesn't hold back on showing you affection. he nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. "i told you you don't have to wait up for me."
you continue to softly rub his back, "i know, but i wanted to to see you."
"are you still gonna stream?" he has a feeling you won't and that you'll turn it off and go to bed with him.
you shake your head, pulling away from the hug you look up at him.
"no, i just turned it on a few hours ago and decided to just chat with my followers until you got home, i'm about to end the stream now." you tell him and glance over at the screen to keep up with the comments.
user hi haechan
user haechan we tried to tell her
user we were baysitting for u
user HAECHAN SAY HI
he looks at your desk set up. "damn, baby. drinking on the clock? that's why your cheeks are a bit rosy." he teases, pointing at the almost empty bottle of soju, his other free hand holding yours.
you shrug, "i was thirsty."
you giggled, "chat says hi, say hi back to chat." you continued, pointing at the flowing of comments.
the top half of his face was cut off by the camera since he was pretty tall and he was standing, he crouches down a bit and waves at the cam.
"hi everyone, thank you for watching yn and thank you everyone for staying up with her."
you smile at him interacting with your viewers before starting to poke his sides. "can i get a kiss first and then i'm going to turn this off."
he effortlessly cups the side of your face gently and leans in to press his lips against yours, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your rosy cheeks and he pulls away.
you wet your lips as you turn with your chair to focus on chat.
haechan is still standing beside you but he reaches for the soju bottle and easily gulps down the last of it before putting it back on the desk.
"okay guys, like i said earlier, i planned on ending this stream when haechan got home. so i'm going to go now, good night everyone and thank you for watching and staying up with me. bye!"
user goodnight yn and haechan!!
user aww goodnight
user goodnight
user night yn :)
he waves with you before the stream ends. he drags you out of your streaming room after you turned everything off properly, walking with you tiredly, hand in hand, to your shared bedroom. ready to sleep in all afternoon with you in his arms, because tomorrow he finally has a rest day. and he wants nothing more than to be with you.
#yeow6n#haechan fluff#lee donghyuck#nct fluff#haechan#haechan drabbles#haechan imagines#nct dream#haechan x reader#nct dream fluff#nct drabbles#lee haechan#soft haechan#nct haechan#haechan short drabbles#haechan scenarios#boyfriend!haechan#haechan fic#haechan imagine#haechan oneshot#lee haechan fluff#nct scenarios#nct fic#nct x reader#nct drabble
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Hi!! I loved your Tav/Astarion fic where they draw his face, it was so good and tender ; ; could i request something sweet where Astarion does something selfless for Tav? presumably after the graveyard scene in Act 3 where he's finally free to be himself! thank you!
Thank you sm im glad you enjoyed my other fic! 🌸🤍 And thank you sm for sending a request! Took me a little while to figure out what i wanted to do, but I hope this fits the theme!
Fluff/Angst/Gender-Neutral Tav
Astarion taking care of a sick Tav post-canon.
🌸
It has been a very long time since Astarion has cared for another living soul outside of his own.
What would he have done with compassion during those two centuries of torture? What good would it do him, to find himself caring, to find a morsel of kindness in his rotting soul? It would not have allowed him to escape Cazador, it would not have stopped the ache in his bones, the gnawing pain that ate away at his un-beating heart. Any softness inside of him quickly died with his screams of agony—or perhaps it had died the moment his heart stopped and his throat was ripped out, a corpse left to bleed out into the unforgiving dirt.
Astarion had woken up in his own grave, choking on congealed blood and forced to climb out through the dirt until his nails had fallen off. When he found Cazador there waiting for him, he knew that his life had ended a second time.
All he had was himself—trapped in his own body as he was, barely scraps of a person, skin and flesh that was named but left vacant.
He did not care for his supposed siblings. There was no point in feeling a thing for the poor, pitiful creatures that were just as trapped as he was. Unwilling perpetrators in his torture, but perpetrators nonetheless—sorry sacks of flesh that were just as fucked as he was. He thought—knew, for a long time, that none of them were going to make it out of this.
They were going to die here, enslaved and starving and empty, or tortured for the rest of eternity.
It was death that Astarion yearned for most after so long, when freedom seemed like the dreams of someone far younger and more naive than he was. It was barely a decade before he gave up, before he knew there was no point anymore. His body had been twisted, changed, and something wicked and burning pulsed through his veins—like the thick sludge of tar, like the foul stench of sewer water and waste.
Whoever Astarion was before—they were long gone now.
There was nothing left, no family, no friends, no lovers that lasted longer than a night. Perhaps he had a mother, perhaps not. He couldn’t remember after long enough, drowning in a cloud of pain, his mind swimming, thoughts and memories sliding out of his hands like water. Flashes of soft hands, of a motherly voice and the hum of a gentle melody to greet him at the deepest recesses of his mind. Maybe he had just come up with such a thing for comfort, he doesn’t know.
Days would pass in episodes of complete dissociation, his mind so utterly disconnected from his own body, eyes only catching flickers of lights and colors before he retreated again. His body would move and he would not know why, he would hear voices and he could never make them out, his mouth would move with noise that he could not hear.
Cazador hated it most—when Astarion was too gone to feel it.
“My sweet Astarion. Where have you gone, boy?”
Astarion was not sweet—his flesh felt putrid, like the peeling of rotten fruit, like he were flayed open and bare for picking. His mouth tasted like the blood of rodents and maggots, or the spit and release of another body he could not remember the face of. He felt like a retched thing, his blood poisonous and his mind infested, a disgusting thing that Cazador owned—a kept thing that did not remember what it felt like to be alive.
Other times, Astarion felt everything in bright, startling clarity. Every starburst of pain, every touch, every drop of his own blood spilling onto the floor. Cazador loved it when he screamed, when he was brought to pathetic tears, too broken to scramble for a semblance of dignity—but never so pitiful as to bother with begging. It would have done nothing, would have granted him no mercy, and would have only served to please Cazador’s sadistic whims. It was a lesson he had learned early, that he held no power, no control. What was done to his body was done, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Inescapable—pressing over his skin like a sticky film, keeping him trapped, keeping him present when all he wanted to do was slip away. It was a cycle, unending, and it went on for over two bloody centuries.
Any remnants left of Astarion’s heart had been carved out and eagerly feasted upon before his own eyes. He believed that he was never going to get it back, that he wouldn’t even want it, should it be offered. He had no use for it now, had no use for more weakness, more pain.
And then he finally tasted freedom again—and then there was Tav.
After two centuries of pure shit, of torture and existing as the barest sliver of a person, Astarion began to remember what it felt like to care.
It was fucking terrifying. It was exhilarating, gratifying, like waking anew. Astarion hasn’t even felt alive in the past two-hundred years, and now he feels like he’s been washed clean and left a different person. Hopefully for the better, this time around, and so much of it is due to Tav and their persistence. They helped him wipe Cazador’s sorry face off the planet, and stayed at his side every step away, patient and kind when Astarion didn’t deserve a bit of it.
He cares about them, even when he had thought he’d forgotten how to, and he can’t help but be grateful for even having the chance to try.
And right now—Tav is sick.
They’ve barely left their bed in two days now, curled under thick furs and shivering, little more than a head that peaks out from under their cocoon. They only leave to piss or puke their guts out, before crawling back under the comforters and passing out.
It isn’t fatal, and it will pass within the coming week, even with the discomfort and pain. Tav is resilient and tough, has been through far too much to be taken by simple illness. Astarion knows that they’ll make it out of this just fine, that they’ll be back on their feet soon. They don’t need a bedside nurse, and surely not in the form of Astarion of all people—but.
He’s cradling a bowl of soup in his hands. Its heat is stark against the natural frigidness of his skin, and the chicken broth makes his stomach turn, food that would expel itself immediately should Astarion venture for a taste. But the soup is for Tav, prepared to the best of Astarion’s ability, and surely edible. He hopes.
He places it on Tav’s bedside table, perching himself delicately on the edge of the bed.
“You haven’t eaten anything today, darling.” He says quietly, his hand brushing gently over Tav’s shivering shoulder. It’s nearly noon now, but the room is bathed in pitch black to protect Astarion from the sun’s rays. He misses the warmth of it, now that he is unable to traverse under its watchful eye—but he dispels the thoughts quickly lest it sour his mood.
Tav makes a small noise, turning over to face Astarion, blinking up at him blearily. Their eyes are glassy, their face tacky with sweat, lashes fluttering as they try focus.
“Huh?” They mumble dumbly, tongue thick in their mouth, a hitch catching in their throat that’s immediately followed by wracking coughs.
Astarion winces, placing a hand on their forehead and almost flinching away at the temperature, “You’re nearly scorching, dear.”
Tav blinks, their brows furrowing, “Thank you.”
Astarion resists the urge to allow his head to sink down into his hands.
He only huffs instead, “Come now, I need you sitting up for this. If you spill all this soup on yourself after I spent so much time preparing it, I’ll be very—upset with you.” The words are stilted, far softer than the terse tone he was going for. True, genuine threats used to slip off his tongue so easily, even in regards to Tav—if he was pissed off enough. Now, he just sounds like a doting hen—a loving husband, maybe.
But Tav looks nearly worried, though moving easily with Astarion’s urging hands, propped up against the headboard, cushioned with pillows.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Tav asks suddenly, their hand wrapping around one of Astarion’s wrists. They hold him there, a feverish looks in their eyes. “You—you haven’t fed in a while.” They pout, tugging at their shirt collar, as if they were preparing to bare their neck right then and there.
There’s something that twists behind Astarion’s ribs—tight and heart-shaped.
He pushes Tav’s shirt back up, lingering briefly over the warmth of their skin, “You’re sick, darling. I’m not feeding off of you when you’re like this. I shan’t starve without you, I promise.” He says lightly, taking the cooling bowl of soup in his hands, ignoring the violent churn of his gut. Tav looks nearly teary-eyed when he turns back to them, their lips twisted in discomfort, their gaze burning with fever. Astarion sighs quietly, taking the side of their face in one palm, silently delighted when they sink in to the gentle touch.
“Come now, don’t look so sad. How about this—I—I’ll feed you this time, hm?” His thumb traces over their cheekbone, “You needn’t be the one looking after me.”
Tav sniffles, “I like taking care of you.”
Astarion takes a measured breath, trying not to stare blankly at such a bold-faced admission. He thinks Tav may come closer to killing him than Cazador ever did.
“Yes, yes, I know dear. Now eat, and once you’re all better, you can be your perfect, doting self again.” He pulls his hand away reluctantly, but the warmth of Tav’s skin stays pressed into his palm.
But Tav seems to hum happily at the thought, gratefully accepting the spoonful of soup that Astarion brings to their lips. They make no obvious face of disgust, so Astarion decides that it truly is edible. That, or they’re too delirious from fever to even notice—but they eat the whole bowl regardless. They can barely keep their eyes open by the time its empty, their chest rising and dropping with slow, deep breaths.
“Lets lay you back down before you pass out. You’ll whine about the crick in your neck if you fall asleep like this.” Astarion tells them, bullying them back under the covers as they groan sadly, looking far too small and breakable against the large mattress.
“I feel awful.”
Astarion swallows, gently brushing his knuckles over their forehead. “You’ll get better soon, love. You needn’t worry.” The words sound as if they were meant more for him, a strange tightness in his throat.
He knows that they will be fine, he knows that. They’ve both been through worse. And yet—
He leans down, lips brushing over their forehead, far too hot and sweaty. He lingers for a moment longer anyways, listening to the soft murmur of contentment that leaves Tav’s mouth.
“I love you.” They mutter drowsily, their eyes flickering open for just a moment before they slip closed again.
Astarion breathes out, weak and shuddering.
“I love you too, darling. Now sleep, I’ll be back soon enough.”
🌸
Thank you sm for reading! If you wish to send me Astarion-flavored requests for fic or headcanons, they’re still open! ☺️🤍
#my fanfiction#astarion#baldurs gate tav#baldurs gate 3#bg3 tav#bg3 astarion#baldur’s gate 3#astarion x tav#ask me
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Percy Jackson and The Great War Of Starburst:
Percy: I can’t believe you thought that the green starburst was apple this whole time
Annabeth: well I’m sorry I didn’t go into ThE LoRe Of StArBuSt
Nico: *tries wills favourite starburst* ugh how can you eat this it tastes like black liquorice
Will: *offended* yeah well yours… YOURS TASTES LIKE WINDOWS
Everyone: …
Leo: frUiTeLLa *becomes possessed*
Piper: what the ShiTtiNg ChRiSt
Reyna: this whole scene gave me a whole new level of what the fuck
#pure chaos#pjo#memes#percy jackson#pjo funny#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson funny#heroes of olympus funny#nico di angelo#annabeth chase#will solace#piper mclean#reyna avila ramirez arellano#hoo#funny pjo#funny percy jackson#percabeth funny#Solangelo funny#Solangelo#percabeth#Hoo funny#funny Hoo#Annabeth chase funny#nico di angelo funny#will solace funny#piper McLean funny#Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano funny
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“Show Me You Love Me With the Shape of Your Bite”
Noe Archiviste x Female Reader
word count: 4300+
(celebrating two years of this blog, i’m back with a lil one shot for noe because the first fic i ever posted was for him. // A human’s strength is nothing compared to a vampire’s— a fact that’s always concerned Noe when it comes to being with you in such an intimate way. But, unlike how most of your own kind would warn you of, you’ve never had a reason to doubt or fear his intentions with you. Besides, as if letting him bite you on a normal basis wasn’t proof enough, even in the worst case scenario, you’ve already made it clear to Noe that you don’t necessarily mind a little pain if he’s the one causing it.)
content warning/disclaimer: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, vampires, biting/marking, blood/readers blood is drunk, reader is a bit of a masochist while Noe is apprehensive about hurting her too much, rough sex at times, size difference, dickriding, aftercare.
*ao3 mirror*
***
Ribbons of broken, silver moonlight streamed in through the gaps of the curtains, the shadows of dusk dancing across the floors, starbursts of amber and coral shimmering on the polished hardwood from the crackling fire burning low and sultry in its stoney hearth.
In the night, Paris came alive, the city lights sparkling like a sea of stars across the horizon, the constant murmur and buzz of the after-dark crowds humming through the air in a stream of noise and energy, muffled and distant from where you now lay, yet you could still imagine the intensity of it all after growing so used to being a part of the pack yourself.
Ever since meeting Noe, you’d traded rising in the early morning and twilight wind-downs for long, late nights and views of the dawn breaking on the horizon, the first muted shades of lilac and gold signaling your time to rest rather than the plum and navy of night blanketing itself across the sky like most others of your kind followed the consistent rhythm of.
You should’ve guessed after the first few times he’d suggested you meet by moonlight rather than daylight that he was afflicted with the forbidden curse— that he was a vampire— but even back then you wouldn’t have cared.
Because Noe Archiviste was as captivating and handsome as he was charming and sweet, he was gentle and kind and compassionate and everything you’d grown up being told those of his kind were not. Because, to everyone else, vampires were monsters. They were cold and cruel, ruthless and ravenous, and among the worst of them were the wolves in sheep’s clothing, using pretty words and entrancing appearances to lure in their prey before sinking their teeth in deep.
Your Noe was the sun after a summer’s rain, warm and inviting. He was a home to return to after a long day, safe and familiar. He was the first face you looked for in a crowd, his name ready to fall from your lips as those two, lilting phantom syllables rested on your tongue.
Some days, you still found yourself reluctant to call what you two shared love, only for the fact that you’d both been keeping it a secret from everyone outside yourselves. But with all the feelings you held for him on a consistent basis in mind, how could what you felt for him be anything else?
You two were far more bonded than any human couple was. Noe knew the taste of your blood after all, had committed the flavor to memory, could distinguish it by a single drop alone. And you knew the imprint of his teeth just as well, craved the way his sharp incisors found a home in your supple flesh night after night, addicted to the ivory’s sharp and satisfying sting.
“Harder—” you breathed, gently writhing under Noe’s hold on you, though with no real means of escaping him. “Harder, Noe, please—!” You gasped as his bite sunk in a fraction deeper, drawing more rivulets of ruby red from the tender spot on your shoulder, sending a quick shudder down your spine, the sensation creeping vertebrae by vertebrae until it welled into the sticky, fluttering warmth of arousal pooling in your lower belly.
As his tongue lapped at the welling beads of red, slow and gentle to savor the taste of you, you let out a broken moan, body arching to follow the heat of his mouth. Noe was always so afraid to go too far, to lose control and end up hurting you, no matter how many times you assured him you wouldn’t ask for the pain if you didn’t want it. But he also couldn’t help but give in to your requests, even if sometimes it made his stomach twist with guilt.
The moment you started making those succulent, saccharine mewling sounds of pleasure though, it was as if all of his ice-dipped remorse melted away. He could drink down your whines and moans just as easily as he could your blood, meeting your mouth for a languid, tongue-entwined kiss, letting you taste your own blood as you parted your lips to let him in.
You’d asked him before what blood tasted like to vampires, said all you could make out from the coppery flavor was the wince-inducing bitterness that had you resisting the urge to screw up your features and spit it from your mouth. So it was hard to believe him when he described it as sweet— sometimes even sickly so— with a hint of pleasant salt and the lingering undertones of something that could only be compared to addiction.
But your part of this exchange didn’t require you to enjoy the taste. For you, it was the feeling— the completely embodied sensation— of what having your blood drunk by him felt like that urged you to keep seeking out his teeth.
It was heavenly. Pure ecstasy. It made you forget why humans had spent so many centuries fearing vampires, if only for the fact that, if it weren’t for you and Noe’s special bond, he probably could’ve drained you dry and left you for dead like the legends of old warned about.
There were still plenty of vampires lurking the streets and hiding in the shadows whose hunger had gone insatiable, morphing them into greedy, voracious monsters who couldn’t see any innocent life past all that gushing red. But your Noe was different. He’d held onto his morality longer than most of his kind would ever have the will to consider, let alone succeed at, and you guessed you could consider yourself pretty lucky that you’d run into him on that first fateful night rather than someone else more sinister and selfish.
“You ok…?” Noe asked in between shallow, panting breaths, his hands splayed on either side of your head as he gazed down at you, lips stained red and shining with your shared saliva, the tip of his tongue darting out to catch the fading crimson that remained. The next thing you felt was his palm, warm, now that his energy had been replenished from your blood, cradling your cheek. You lay underneath him, back sinking into the mattress and eyes closed as his shadow blanketed over your bare form, allowing yourself to drift off into the serenity that often followed Noe’s feedings.
You felt safe. Held. Comforted by his presence and by the fact that, during this act, you were two becoming one in a way few would ever know or understand.
Letting him drink from you often came after sex. It allowed a euphoric extension on the galaxy of pleasure that Noe’s body could coax from yours. It also ensured that he didn’t have too much strength to unleash upon your fragile human form, his pace slow and sensual as he buried himself deeper and deeper into you. But sometimes, like tonight, when he indulged in a feeding beforehand, well…
You knew you were going to be in for one hell of a ride.
“Maybe I took too much this time…” Noe muttered to himself in a low, worried tone as you felt the bed shift around you, your eyes fluttering open to watch as he changed position, carefully lifting your limp figure up to drape and rest against his chest before leaning back against the barrier of pillows that lined the headboard. He was carding his long fingers through your lightly tousled hair, mumbling sporadic thoughts under his breath under the false pretense that you’d drifted off to sleep. You thought you heard him say something about stopping there for the night, not wanting to push you past your limits.
That was enough to jolt you back to consciousness, just enough to stir in his grasp and breathe out a weak and airy, “Noe…” on account of still recovering from your recent blood loss. You lifted your head slightly to meet his eyes, which had now been leeched of their glowing, crimson color and turned back to calming lavender on account of his appetite being satisfied. You gave him a feeble, tired smile and said, “It’s ok… I’m ok. I can keep going…”
The vampire considered you for a moment. He knew you had a habit of pushing yourself, but before he could think on it too long, you were taking his face in your hands and luring him back to you with one of those adorable, delicate little giggles. “Noe, come on…” you reassured him with a smile, devotion sparkling in your eyes, “You know I trust you more than anyone else. Plus, even if you do hurt me a little bit…” You paused, feeling your cheeks heat before admitting what you were about to next, despite having done it several times to him already. “Even if you do hurt me, I don’t mind. I… like the pain, remember?”
Beckoning him closer to you now, letting him lay his head against your chest and cradling your arms around him like he was the delicate one, like he was the one worth worrying about and protecting, you carded your little fingers through his snowy locks of hair and softly spoke to him, telling him again that you trusted him, how you loved him, and as the words left your mouth you knew them to be true, no hesitation in the confession you’d been so afraid to acknowledge prior.
Noe could’ve sunk so far into the comfort you gave him he would’ve drowned in it, finding he was never as soft and sentimental with anyone else as when he was with you. He never allowed himself to let his guard down to such a level, for a moment forgetting that, outside of this room, you two were widely considered to be enemies— hunter and prey, a monster and a girl.
He sometimes used to wonder if he’d ever find someone he could love who would also love him in return, before meeting you. And what was a luckier, more divine thing than to have your own angel to hold? To have someone who thought and cared about you as much as you thought and cared about them?
“Alright…” Noe mumbled, his cheek pressed to your chest, listening to your beating heart, counting out each gentle drum of the steady rhythm. As he lifted his head to meet your tired, half-lidded gaze, he said, “But I need you to promise me one thing…” Rising further to sit up, the two of you across from one another, bodies bare and on display for each other to see, to have, to hold, Noe’s words dripped with earnesty as he said, “If things start to go too far, I need you to tell me.”
“Noe, I—”
But he cut you off, cupping your cheek in his palm. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but I also know you haven’t always been completely honest with me about it.” You resisted the urge to swallow down the lump of guilt that had curled up in your throat, unable to deny his concerned accusation. Softly stroking his thumb along your jaw, so feathery light you could barely feel it, he set his lilac gaze on your neck where his bite had already begun to bruise and scab over, now a deep shade of wine. He said, “It’s been a while since I— since we’ve done this after a feeding…”
He didn’t need to explain any further. You knew exactly what he was so worried about now— the fact that, last time he drank beforehand and not after, it had resulted in you with tears streaming down your face and several more bites and bruises to paint your skin while he’d been blinded by the carnality of it all. You’d barely been able to walk the next day, feeling like something inside of you had been broken beyond repair, and even though you’d tried to assure him you would be ok, deep down there had been some fear sparked in you.
The pain he’d caused you that night had surpassed the fine line of the sugar-coated, thorny pleasure that you craved and ended up as injury instead.
Noe had said he’d never allow himself to partake in your blood before sex again, though, after months of trying to convince him not every time had to be like that first one and that, while you couldn’t necessarily erase the memory, you could help fix it by replacing it with something better, you’d gotten him to come around.
“I promise,” you told him, reaching forward to take his hand. He laced his fingers with yours, careful even in that act, as if each new touch he bestowed upon you from now until morning held the risk of breaking his own vow. “If it gets to be too much, I’ll tell you.”
You felt relief when his lips twitched into a soft, dreamy grin, the expression there and then gone in an instant, becoming entranced with the way your little hand fit together with his, palms pressed together and creating more shared warmth, Noe able to feel your pulse through your skin and noting the way it was picking up speed a little as he placed his other hand on your knee and gave a gentle squeeze.
It was you who leaned in to kiss him then, catching him off guard for a moment until he followed your cue and allowed himself to melt back into you, the hand on your knee sliding up to rest on your bare thigh, kneading the plush flesh there, slow and savoring, as you combed your fingers through his hair and sighed into his mouth, your core already coiling again in tiny, tight little pulses as his fingers grew closer to brushing up against where you were already slick and waiting.
A tender, broken moan spilled from your mouth as his first finger slipped inside, testing your tightness and comfort before adding in a second and curling at his knuckles, causing you to arch your back and slide further down to lay flat for him, spreading your legs wider as he slowly scissored his digits inside of you, biting back his own moan when he felt your hole clenching around what was inside harder the more he stretched you.
He caught his bottom lip on one of his fangs, vehemently reminding himself to stay in control, don’t go too far, don’t hurt her as his own arousal pulsed thick and eager through his veins, that familiar sharp pang of adrenaline already beginning to surge.
He was starting to remember now— how hard it had been to stop once he’d started— and the thought made his stomach churn for a whole other reason. But you were right. This time didn’t have to be like the last. It wouldn’t be. He’d make sure of it.
Once he’d prepped you enough to take him, Noe began to line himself up with your entrance, feeling his own cock twitch in his hand as he caught sight of the glistening beads that drooled from your cunt, asking you if you were ok before nudging in the tip, pausing when you momentarily winced, only continuing when you nodded at him to signal it was alright for him to keep going.
And, god, you loved how you could feel every single vein and ridge of him as he carved out a home inside of you, the velvety flesh of his cock massaging every part of your insides like it had been designed to do so, both your bodies devoted and destined to learn each other in this way long before you’d even met. The sweet sting of him splitting you in two made your tummy tighten and flutter, your pussy squeezing around the length of him just enough to give a teasing taste of what he already expected was to come.
His breathing was soon beginning to pick up speed, Noe hoping to hide just how much you were affecting him already as he forced out even, shuddering huffs, hunching over you while he tried not to let himself go completely, no matter how badly he wanted to right now.
It made him remember something else he’d almost forgotten about that last time— just how much better you felt when he was inside you after he’d been replenished by your blood, all his senses alive, every nerve alight with the heightened vitality that he gained from a recent feeding. It’s what made this all so dangerous in the first place.
“It’s ok…” you assured him, your own chest moving with the shallow, panting breaths of anticipation as you remedied your prior words with, “I’m ok. I trust you…”
Noe wanted to believe he could trust himself too. And as he felt the animalistic urgency within him simmer a little, he figured it was alright to start moving.
As much as it killed him to go so slow, he forced himself to hold out, gradually rolling his hips to meet yours, your voices moaning in tandem, creating a lilting melody of pleasure with each inch he drove deeper into you and every constricting squeeze of your cunt around his cock.
“Harder—” you were telling him again, the request cracking with a breathy whine as you felt him brush against your cervix, sharp jolts sparking through your abdomen followed by the slow, syrupy drip of pleasure that ran thick through your blood. You felt Noe hesitate for a moment, but when you twisted your fingers through his silky white hair and gave a tug, he snapped his hips forward hard enough to shove you a few inches up the bed. A small yelp emitted from you, clipped with a satisfied mewl, and you loosened your fist in his hair, tenderly stroking the back of his neck, playing with the wispy tufts at the base of his skull as you whispered out, “That’s it… Just like that…”
Noe had to pin your wrists down then, find some way to keep you anchored as he prepared to pound into you harder, though not yet with the rigorous speed you both knew he was capable of. And when you asked him to bite you again, well…
That time, Noe just couldn’t tell you no.
Sinking his teeth into your unmarked shoulder and feeling the skin break, more of your warm, sticky blood flooding into his mouth, Noe drank down gulp after gulp in rapid succession. This made him forget to mind his strength for a moment, and as you fell more slack under his hold, lulled by the euphoria of having your blood drunk by him for the second time that night, he nearly lost you.
He came back to his senses just in time, his saliva filled mouth pulling away from the new bite with a glittering strand of diluted reddish-pink bowing and snapping back onto the crook between your neck and shoulder.
He was partially horrified with himself, and for a moment wondered if he’d finally gone too far, past the point of no return, but was able to exhale a sigh of relief when you fluttered open your tired, bleary eyes and your shallow breathing registered to his sensitive hearing.
“I don’t think I can do this…” the vampire admitted under his breath, sounding disappointed in himself as he pulled out of you and used the pad of his thumb to swipe up a drop of red that was slowly dripping down towards your collar bones, shamelessly licking it away before casting you a quick, guilty glance. “I’m going to hurt you again. I know I am. I—”
Trying to prop yourself up onto your elbows in a way that was less than graceful, to say the least, you blinked the blood loss from your vision until Noe came back into focus. After a few minutes the swaying sensation of lightheadedness abated and you were able to roll yourself over, laying on your stomach as you stared at him sitting on the edge of the bed and looking stressed and conflicted.
You might’ve been able to call it a night, if not for the fact that you were still burning up inside with the need to release all this pent up arousal, so you decided to try approaching things from a different angle.
“Hey…” You lightly ran your fingertips along his spine, watching his back muscles flex as he turned partially to glance over his shoulder at you. “Lay down.”
Noe was already beginning to apologize, though for what exactly, you weren’t sure— as far as you were concerned, he’d done nothing wrong other than stop before letting you come— but you pressed a finger to his lips before he could finish his spoken atonement.
You had him right where you wanted him— right where you needed him now. “Stop talking,” you said, climbing atop him once he was laying flat on his back, straddling him as you took his face in both your palms, his hands quickly reaching for your hips to help steady you when you began to sway slightly, still not fully recovered from the blood loss.
You were staring at him, desperately searching all that alluring lavender for any sign that he understood, and he was staring back at you as if he were being touched by god, completely enraptured by the gentle light in your eyes alone. “Let me take care of you,” you murmured, the moment of revelation drifting away. “You always do such a good job at taking care of me…” Taking his still hard cock in your hand, a small smirk curving on your lips when you felt him slightly tense beneath you, his stomach flinching, you lined it up with your entrance once more. “It’s my turn now.”
Noe let out a stuttering breath of ecstasy as you sunk down on him, both of you needing less time to catch your breath now but no less urgent in your need for each other. And as you began to grind your hips down on him, your clit rubbing hard against his pelvic bone every time you rolled forward and making your eyes tip to the back of your head, Noe kept a firm grip on your hips, helping to pull you down further onto his cock every time you lifted off again.
The glowing illumination of the midnight moon drenched your silhouette as you rode him, Noe admiring the way the light shone on your dewy skin, pretty tits bouncing as you began to pick up speed, your head thrown back, neck exposed and mouth hanging open with silent ecstasy as you approached closer and closer to the edge.
Noe was close too, beginning to buck his hips up into you to match your rhythm towards the end, still so strong even when he wasn’t trying that hard, making your toes curl as you twisted the bed sheets tight in your fists, hunching over him as your trembling legs felt like they were about to give out, thighs burning from the exertion and sweat gathering in the crooks of your folded knees, a new, high-pitched moan tumbling from your throat with each thrust.
And, god, when you both came at the same time, you swore you saw spots of heaven blinking in your vision, falling forward to drape yourself over him completely, squeezing every last drop from him as his cock spurt thick ropes of cum inside of you, enough to ooze out of your abused little hole and drip in thick, creamy dollops back onto him where you two remained connected until Noe mustered up enough strength to take your limp form in his arms and carefully sit up just enough to pull out of you, keeping you cradled against his warm chest until you actually did doze off.
Gently setting you aside, pulling a sheet across your naked body to shield you from the chill while he went to fetch a damp, warm washcloth to clean you up with, Noe was haunted by the fact that, for as many times as you two had been together before, it had never been quite as good as that.
Haunted, only for the fact that it had still been a dangerous risk to take. Yet still, a risk he had a feeling he’d be unable to talk you out of taking again.
He noted the various bruises speckled about your body as he cleaned you, dark blotches in the shape of his fingertips where they’d dug into your hips, more scattered across your thighs, your wrists, around the bites on both sides of your shoulders and along your neck where he’d branded you with hickies he hadn’t even remembered deciding to mark you with.
After leaving to fix himself up and returning again, Noe checked your pulse, two fingers pressed softly to the side of your neck, just to make sure his worst fear hadn’t come to pass. He flinched minutely when your little hand reached up to cup his, a sated smile spread across your lips, eyes still closed as you muttered out, “See… told you I’d be ok…”
Noe’s grin was a little more incredulous than anything, but as he gently stroked the side of your head, smoothing back some strands of tousled hair from your sweet face he adored gazing upon so much, he was just glad that you were alright this time around.
Curling up beside you, pressing a chaste peck to your forehead, Noe told you he loved you through a tired, dreamy sigh. Only then did you open your eyes, pupils dilated to swallow the color of your irises in the dark, and whispered back to him, like a promise, like a prayer, “I love you too…” After that, all you could remember was the darkness of encroaching unconsciousness and the familiar, comforting heat of his body entangled with yours, asleep and safe in each other’s arms at the end of another unforgettable night.
***
(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I really can’t believe it’s already been two years since I made this blog and started writing/posting fanfiction. Time really flies huh?
Anway, I’d like to take this time to give a big thank you to everyone who follows me, reads my work, and takes the time to leave likes or nice comments. It really makes my day :)
I look forward to being able to share the fics I have in the works going forward with you all. Hope you have a wonderful day and remember to be kind to yourself <3)
#noe archiviste#noe archiviste x reader#noe archiviste x you#noe archiviste x y/n#the case study of vanitas x y/n#the case study of vanitas fanfiction#the case study of vanitas x reader#the case study of vanitas#the case study of vanitas x you#vanitas no carte fanfiction#vanitas no carte x you#vanitas no carte x y/n#vanitas no carte x reader#vanitas no carte#noe archiviste smut#the case study of vanitas smut#noe archiviste fanfic#noe archiviste fanfiction
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Hi i absolutely love your artstyle! I'm not good at explaining normally, but I can explain in terms of eating your art!
The lineart looks so easy to swallow, and the way you colour gives just the perfect burst of flavor! The way you draw them -especially Wally- gives the illusion of them being softly chewy! ,,Kinda like edible starburst slime, or sugus candy!
Thanks for the food! or,, snack? Hehe
(Also if you don't mind, please give Wally kisses because I Love Him so much!)
THIS WAS SO SWEET TO READ!! I’ve actually been wondering for a while what my art tastes like to people, so I was absolutely swooning over your description! It motivated me so much! (•;^;•)
Wally would happily accept some kisses! He got the candy too, bwahaha!
I’ll have to remember to reference chewy candies when drawing him now!
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Based on an informal study of the nature of post spread from 2014 to present (2022) through various means (activity feed line graph, cluster maps, notes section), conclusions are
Based on Tumblr's cluster maps, most reblogs are dead ends that do not lead to more reblogs.
Some reblogs, however, create starbursts of activity, ie generate a bunch more reblogs. This sometimes but not always leads to runaway post spread aka virality, identifiable by its characteristic large spikes on the activity feed linegraph
By cross-referencing between the cluster maps, the linegraph on the activity page, timestamps on reblogs in the notes, and just looking at URLs to see who everyone is reblogging from, it is possible to identify the users responsible for viral events
Post spread is driven primarily by a small number of users with a large number of followers (around 5k followers seems to be the minimum critical mass), aka "hub" users
Being reblogged by a hub is necessary to achieve virality (around 2k notes seems to be the threshold at which posts to escape containment, aka leave the circle of people who are familiar with OP's URL), but does not guarantee a post will go viral.
In addition to being reblogged by a hub, post must also have a minimum potential audience size. Extremely niche fandom memes, for instance, never go viral no matter who reblogs them.
Conclusion: Evaluation of claim "Tumblr users need you to reblog things": partially true. A reblog from the average user is a dead end that may get likes, but will not lead to more reblogs. Benefits of the average dead-end reblog include: the user enjoying having the post on their blog, the user's followers who probably have overlapping taste getting to see & like the post, thus adding a small drop in the bucket to the OP's engagement meter.
Post virality (attaining >2kish notes), on the other hand, is driven by hub users (> several thousand followers). This is consistent with the sizable body of existing research that has applied the theory of weak ties to the spread of ideas through social media. From the standpoint of attaining virality, the value of a reblog is proportional to its likelihood of exposing the post to a hub blog.
#tumblr#Tumblr has almost no algorithm so it means we've got almost pure social network spread unadulterated by machines
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