Seto practice for the thing I’m gonna start in a bit. Jerk, I hate you.
that’s a lie
also Mokuba clinging to his brother’s shoulders. Because reasons. Obviously took some artistic license here. Kaiba doesn’t look half bad. And I will never draw him this well again lol. The top right image text inspired by my earlier convo with wizqevelynart . This is all her fault, she needs to pay for her crimes.
HERE IT IS. I SAID I WOULD START POSTING FIC HERE AND I’M GONNA. I hope you all enjoy! There will be more because I am a weenie and the boys wont shut up.
Characters: Gabriel Reyes, Jack Morrison, with side appearances from Ana, Reinhardt, and Torbjorn. Rated: T+ because Reyes has a sailor’s mouth. Words:
Summary: Gabriel Reyes is annoyed and irritated
by his teammates constantly cheery and draining dispositions. Some
Reaper76 fluff ensues, with a lot of grumpy Reyes.
mostly a self-indulgent, pre-canon, Omnic Crisis fluffy one-shot.
If there was anything more annoying than fucking extroverts, Gabriel Reyes didn’t know what it was.
that this was surprising for a man of his character. He wasn’t what you
would call a “people person.” He had perfected his human-repellant
scowl years ago and it had proven effective for keeping anyone too nosy
off his back. It helped him command respect, helped keep teammates at an
arm’s length. It kept away small talk and allowed him to keep an eye on
everyone all at once.
But damn those fucking irritating energetic extroverts.
Since joining Overwatch, he couldn’t help but notice the place was crawling
with them. Angela, Torbjorn, Reinhardt, Lena… all of them were people
magnets. They attracted attention, they soaked up the crowds and praise,
they fell in love with the idea of what Overwatch was instead of
focusing on the grim reality of it actually is. It was a blissful existence, a happy one, an exuberant one.
Stiles’ eyes soak up Derek’s supine form, the epitome of ultimate peace etched upon his face. He drops heavily to his knees, reaching out a shaky hand, hesitant to touch, until he gathers the strength to gently stroke back Derek’s hair before moving his nimble fingers down to smooth over each eyebrow.
“C’mon Derek, please.” Stiles’ pleading whispers fall on deaf ears.
He closes his eyes, inching forward to lay a kiss upon Derek’s lips which feel so warm yet, so welcoming. He pulls back after what feels like an eternity lived inside of a minute.
Derek’s eyes slowly begin to flutter open, pupils constricting as they adjust to the harsh lights after being ensconced in darkness for what only feels like an hour.
“Oh thank god! True love’s kiss does work!” Stiles breathlessly proclaims, grin tentatively engulfing his face.
Derek groans lightly, “What the hell are you talking about, Stiles? I was just taking a damn nap.” Derek manages to roll on his side, knocking his book off the couch and onto the floor in the process.
“Yeah well, it still holds true: I kissed you and now you’re awake. Come on, Sleeping Grumpy, I brought us some dinner before I have to go back to the station and relieve Parrish of his shift.”
Stiles attempts to yank his Derek off the couch, but is instead pulled down and met with a proper kiss, effectively short-circuiting his brain and sending pulses of electric shocks through each and every nerve, eliciting an involuntary shiver. Derek pulls away with a satisfied smirk, arranges Stiles’ limbs over his own, securely wraps his arms around his waist, and brushes his stubbled check against Stiles’ own.
He boops Stiles’ nose. “Five more minutes.”
“Did you just ‘snooze button’ me?!” Stiles protests as he half-heartedly attempts to extricate himself from Derek’s notorious snuggle grip.
“Mmhmm.” Derek responds, stroking a hand up and down his back feeling Stiles’ muscles slowly loosen and succumb to the soothing motions, breath evening out into a lazy sinuous rhythm as they both drift off.
An hour later, Parrish glares at the name displayed on his phone, “Stiles, where the hell are you? You better have a life or death reason for why you’re over a half hour late!”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Jordan. Technically yes, it was. You’ve never experienced Derek’s grip - ”
“Oh my god, Stiles, I don’t want to know about your sexcapades!” Parrish cuts him off, mortified.
“His cuddle grip! I’m sorry, I dozed off. I’m on my way now.” Stiles scrambles to say.
“Yeah, sure.” Parrish ends the call, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes and sighs, “Newlyweds.”