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buckyalpine · 6 months

Note

Please do a teeny story where buckys kitty is all over a y/n and he is so flustered about it. These pics of my cat who is a Turkish Angora. I like to think he might look a bit like Alpine 😉

I'm here for all the domestic fluff rn. WHAT A CUTE BABY PLSSSS absolutely yes your fur baby looks like such a little angel. That is most certainly Bucky's sweet Alpine.

Bucky finally moved into a new apartment. One with proper heating and lighting. A comfy bed he actually liked to sleep in. Furniture he picked out. It was a simple space but he liked it. He even got a few plants and hung up a few pictures, most of them with Sam and Steve.

His favorite place was surprisingly the kitchen. After years of tasteless mush and not exactly feasting every day back in he 40's, Bucky loves trying experimenting with different recipes and recreating ones he remembered his ma making for him.

Then there was his favorite thing in the whole world. A little white ball of fur that would slink around his legs all day, meowing for pets and cuddles, purring so loudly Bucky was sure the neighbors could hear. He'd never meant to get a cat but all it took was one charity event at a local animal shelter and the rest was history. He couldn't resist those adorable blinking eyes and soft, wispy fur.

"Alp?" Bucky rubbed his eyes, curious as to why there wasn't a fuzzy motor boat purring on his chest while the sun streamed through the curtains. "Where'd you go, baby"

It wasn't rare for Alpine to wake up earlier than Bucky, sauntering around the apartment to lay under a patch of sun. He swung his legs over, making his way to the kitchen to make breakfast for both him and his cat only to find the apartment empty and the cat door swinging.

"I should've never installed that" Bucky groaned to himself, deciding to continue making breakfast in hopes that Alpine would be back shortly whilst also wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to give his cat a sense of independence. Moments later, Bucky heard the swinging of the flap, announcing the arrival of the fur ball.

"Where did you go" Bucky cocked his head, noting the way his cat was smugly licking his lips before jumping onto his cat tree and stretching out for a nap. "For fucks sake, you're worse than Steve, running off God knows where and doing who knows what"

A knock of the door broke Bucky away from the conversation he was having, his eyes growing wide seeing his pretty neighbor on the other side.

"H-hi" Bucky stuttered, smiling down at the PJ's you were still in along with soft bunny slippers on your feet, sleep still evident on your face. Before either of you could speak, Alpine trotted over, walking right past Bucky and straight to you. He stood up on his hind legs with needy meows, batting his eyes as best as he could, something he very clearly learned from his owner.

"Alpine" Bucky hissed, his cheeks growing red while his cat continued to paw at your leg, trying to climb you like a tree, begging to be picked up.

"Is he yours" you giggled, picking up the fussy cat in your arms, letting him adjust himself until he was comfy, his eyes closing for a nap. "He was at my door this morning"

"You can't nap there baby" Bucky sighed, embarrassed over the fact that his cat was rubbing himself all over you plus he'd clearly just revealed Alpine wore the pants in the relationship. "Yeah, he's mine. I'm so sorry, he's usually not like that, he usually runs away from people-

"It's okay" you cooed at the content cat in your arms, giving him another snuggle before turning to Bucky again. Something silver in your hand caught his eyes, running and hand over his face when he realized what you were holding.

His cat was a menace.

"He left this at my place while coming for a visit. Thought I should bring it back to its rightful owner, Sargent" You said shyly, handing over Bucky's dogtags, your breath hitching as your fingers brushed over his metal hand, placing them in his palm.

"Supposed I should give this back to you as well" you handed over Alpine, torn between wanting to cuddle the fur baby more and also feeling jealous of how comfy he must've felt in his daddy's thick arms, resting against his strong chest-

Get a hold of yourself.

"Thank you, doll" The pet name slipped out on is own making both of you giddy again. "I-I was just about to make breakfast, if you want to come over in half an hour" Bucky offered, nervous at how your react, butterflies bursting in his tummy when your eyes lit up.

"I'd love that" You gave Alpine one last scratch behind the ears before retracting back to your apartment to get changed while Bucky closed the door behind him.

"I know you want a mommy but you can't just plant yourself into the arms of the first pretty girl you see" Bucky's muffled voice carried through the door making your cheeks heat up, smiling to yourself when Alpine meowed in response.

"I know you have good taste but you know I would've asked her out eventually. You didn't have to drag my dogtags there"

"Meow"

"I'm not scared"

"Meow"

"I'm not!"

"...Meow"

"Fine. But you let me handle this when she comes over"

"Meow"

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sugrhigh · 3 months

Text

FEELINGS MUTUAL - ( c.s. )

summary- you and chris, a d1 lacrosse player, have been good friends since freshman year. he accidentally hurts your feelings one night while youre hanging out, and things escalate as he’s apologizing.

warnings - it’s smut (use of ma included oop) so PLEASE read at ur own risk, if u don’t like it keep scrolling cuz idgaf 🤭

bff!chris x fem!reader

a/n: this is my first one shot on here AHH! i’ll probably be writing more so if you have requests or ideas, pls send them my way xoxo

“i still don’t understand how you predicted most of that within the first thirty minutes.” chris shakes his head, arms crossed as he leans back against the headboard casually.

“i told you, i’ve got it down to a science. all scary movies are practically the same.” you shrug, clutching a pillow to your chest as you lay in his bed.

it’s late now, or early. you’ve been watching movies together all night, just like you usually do during slow weekdays where neither of you have to be up for class, or in his case, practice.

“i wish you didn’t insist on watching them all of the time.” he says.

“aw, is little christina scared?” you tease him with a small grin.

“i hate when you call me that. and nothing about me is little.” chris kicks you with his foot gently, and you nearly roll off of the bed trying to avoid the contact.

“gross.”

“whatever, you’re the one thinking about my dick.”

“i absolutely am not.” you argue, though you feel your cheeks flush.

“keep lying.”

you lift an arm out to smack him in the bicep, and he just laughs. “stop flirting, you slut.”

“if i was flirting, you’d know.” chris smirks, running a hand through his long hair.

“you think you could rizz up the babadook?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him properly.

“oh for sure.”

he doesn’t hesitate before saying it. he even nods his head a little bit in certainty.

“someone’s confident.” you laugh.

“c’mon, i could rizz anybody up.”

“you haven’t managed to do it to me, and we’ve been friends for two years.”

“that’s because i’m not trying to.”

for some reason, this stings a little. chris is a bit notorious for getting around, though it’s not really his fault. as a d1 lacrosse player who also happens to be very attractive, girls come falling at his feet.

you’re just not one of them, and he clearly doesn’t mind. you’re not sure why you even care.

it just makes you feel weird, that you’re the only girl he’s not attracted to for whatever reason. like you’re defective or something.

“right. i forgot you’ll hit on every other girl in the world, just not me.” your voice comes out more sour than intended.

chris looks a bit surprised, eyebrows raising slightly at your tone. “because you’re…you know…you.”

“wow, you really know how to make a girl feel good, huh?” you roll your eyes before turning to lay facing the other direction.

a hand snakes its way to your waist, a familiar sensation that still makes butterflies erupt in your stomach regardless.

“you know i didn’t mean it like that.”

you bury your head further into the pillow, trying to ignore the way his thumb is tracing circles against your hip. “whatever, chris. i get it.”

“you clearly don’t, because you’re all pissy now.” he sighs, breath tickling your skin.

“no i’m not.”

“yes you are.”

“i just want to sleep.” you lie.

chris fully wraps his forearm around your stomach now, tugging you so that your back is flush against his chest. he buries his chin in the crook of your neck, and you can’t help but smile slightly to yourself.

“all i meant is that you’re not those girls. you’re too special.” he says quietly into your ear.

you bite down on your lip to try and keep the grin from growing.

“now you’re just humoring me.”

he shakes his head slightly, stubble scratching at your shoulder in a pleasant way. “i’m not and you know it.”

you’re actually thankful you’re in a tank top, because having his warm skin on yours is nice. you’ve never felt it before, and it kind of makes you nervous.

“do i?” you question.

“you should. you’re the only girl who can get me to watch horror movies with her. the only one who sleeps over, or gets to steal my hoodies—”

“oh please, i know you gave that bitch maddy your sweatshirt. she wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks.” you cut him off.

“okay, she stole that from me and now she won’t give it back, so that’s different.” chris shuts you down quickly.

“if you insist.”

you shift slightly in his arms, and you hear him suck in a breath as you get comfortable.

“don’t do that.” his voice is strained.

“what?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“don’t move like that.”

“i’m not allowed to move now?”

“not when your ass is on me.” his grumbles, and you finally get it.

“oh.”

your response is abnormally high pitched, and you’re not sure what else to say. you’re too terrified to turn even in the slightest.

“who’s scared now, huh?”

you swear he must have gotten closer, because you can almost feel his lips hovering by your earlobe as he speaks. the smile is prominent in his tone.

he’s teasing you, and it spurs a fire in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt with him before. you maneuver your body, and this time you purposely back your ass up against his lap.

you hear him let out a small groan that vibrates against your body, and it nearly makes you shiver.

“not me.” you give him attitude, though you’re practically breathless.

“have you really thought this through?” chris asks, pressing up against you so you can actually feel how hard he is.

you’re already pulsing, and his fingers dance back and forth across your stomach lightly. even with your shirt as a barrier, it’s too nice.

you nod in response, and his hand slides up your arm and over your shoulder, fingernails barely raking against your skin as he goes. chris grips your throat, and you push against him for some sort of friction, for anything.

“tell me you want it.” he demands, squeezing just a bit harder.

“you want it.” you manage to taunt, grabbing his arm and guiding it down your chest to the bottom of your shirt.

his hand slides underneath the tight fabric, back up your stomach, traveling to massage your left tit slowly. his thumb ghosts over your nipple, and you arch your back into him involuntarily.

“fuck.” you gasp quietly.

“no bra, huh? just for me?”

chris twitches against your ass, attaching his lips to your neck hungrily. his tongue slides against the sensitive skin, teeth digging into the flesh where your throat meets your collar.

his hand switches places, and he drags the pads of his fingers across your other nipple in a tantalizing pattern. the sensation of his touch and his mouth at the same time is bliss, and you let out a moan of pleasure.

“always wondered what you sounded like, you fuckin angel.” he praises, grinding his hips against you.

just feeling his length, pressing right against your core through the fabric of your yoga pants, makes you incredibly wet. he’d be shocked to find you’re not wearing underwear either.

you guide his hand back out from underneath your shirt so you can flip over again, sitting up slightly as you move to straddle him. he’s already bucking up into you, whining from the feeling of being underneath your hips.

“don’t tease me. i’ve waited too long for this.” chris pulls your arm down so he can give you an actual kiss.

his lips are soft, molding against yours desperately as his hands grip your ass. you rock against him as his tongue slides against yours, and he groans into your mouth.

“god, i love hearing that.” you admit against his lips.

you pull away so you can lift his shirt over his head, trailing your long manicured nails down his chest slowly, right along his happy trail. he throws his head back against the pillows, relishing in the feeling.

you can tell he’s growing frustrated though, and suddenly he grabs you by your waist, throwing you down so your back hits the mattress.

chris helps you out of your top like it’s a race, tossing it to the floor with his other clothes. he positions himself over you, capturing your lips with his hungrily.

you bring your hands up; one tugging at the curly strands of hair on the back of his neck, the other clawing at his back.

he likes this, smiling into you before biting down on your bottom lip harshly. chris pulls away, pressing kisses down your throat, down the valley of your chest, but not without moving his tongue back and forth against each nipple at least a few times.

it makes you writhe, hands tangling in his sheets as he continues.

“jesus, chris.” you’re basically whimpering.

he stops right at the top of your leggings, looking up at you from between your thighs like he’s asking for permission.

you lift your hips as an answer, and he tugs the slick material down over your feet. the air hits you, and you can feel how embarrassingly ready you are.

chris lowers himself to you again, pushing your legs apart with both palms.

“you’re so pretty, ma. so fucking wet for me, too.” he mumbles, kissing and nipping at your hip, down your inner thigh, right next to where you need him most.

ma. he’s never called you that before, and you like it way more than you should.

without warning, he slides his tongue flat against your pussy in one long stripe. his lips come down around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against it slowly.

“holy shit—” you gasp, and your fingers tangle in his hair again, tugging at his roots as he buries his face further.

you’d been given head before, but it never actually felt good until now. chris’s fingers grip your thighs as he continues to force them apart, tongue moving up and down against your center at a faster pace now.

you can feel the pressure building, but you know you want more. you want to make him feel good too.

“oh my god baby.” the pet name slips out without even thinking, your head is so fuzzy with pleasure.

“fuck, call me that again.” he pulls away just enough to speak coherently.

“i need you inside me, baby, please.” you beg desperately.

“so ready for me, so eager.” he practically growls, sitting up so he can yank off his sweatpants, tugging his boxers down with them.

his dick is just as big as it felt, definitely the biggest you’ve seen in person, which is a little scary. he puts a hand to your mouth, turning your head to the side slightly.

“spit.”

fuck, this is hot.

you happily do as your told, and he pulls his hand back to spread it around his dick. his other arm goes to prop your one leg up as he aligns himself at your entrance.

chris pushes in slowly, and you both let out a long moan at the same time. you can feel him stretching you, and it takes a minute for you to adjust to his full length.

“fuck…” he says in that breathy voice you love so much.

he moves out, then back in, steadily picking up his pace as you get more comfortable. you have to give it to him, the kid knows how to use his hips.

“mmm…you feel so good around me,” chris grumbles, lifting your leg a little higher.

he hits a new spot, and it sends delicious waves of pleasure through your body.

“yes, right there!” your eyes screw shut, and his free hand goes to reach for your tits.

“fuck ma, i can feel you squeezing. taking it just like a good girl.”

such a pretty mouth saying such dirty things, things you didn’t think you’d ever in a million years hear from your friend. and yet, it feels exactly like it should.

he’s practically pounding into you now, and the little noises he makes drive you crazy. his free hand shifts so his thumb rubs against your clit, and you feel your core seize up.

“chris!” you cry out, and that damn smirk crosses his face again.

“tell em, angel. tell them exactly who you want.”

his fingers feel so good combined with his strokes, and this time the building pressure in your stomach is too much. you know you don’t have a lot longer left as your body begins to shudder.

“fuck, chris, i’m so close—”

“just a little longer, hang on for me.” he says, movements growing sloppier as he reaches his own peak.

his nails dig into the skin of your thigh, a bit of pain that is not unwelcomed. chris circles his other fingers around you faster, and you let out an even louder gasp.

“i’m—”

“fuck, me too. come on baby, come all over me.” he cuts you off, and you feel him twitch inside of you as he finishes with a groan.

“shit!” you ride out your own high, releasing onto his dick as he slows to a stop. you’re both completely breathless and sweaty as he pulls out, and you immediately feel at loss.

he leans down to give you a little peck before collapsing beside you.

“i’ve seriously dreamed about that so many times.” chris says, arm splayed across his chest as he stares into your eyes.

you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. “stop it.”

he’s quiet for a moment, and you peek through your fingers to look at him.

“you know this means more to me, right? you mean more to me.” he speaks softly, like he’s scared of how you’ll react.

you finally reveal yourself again, smiling more widely than you’d care to admit.

“good, cuz the feelings mutual.”

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #fanfic #oneshot

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ashessonfire · 1 year

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FIRST KISS WITH KAZ!!! Maybe through fabric or just working through his touch aversion to get there

'Need' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - An overview of the relationship which brings the Bastard of the Barrel's hardened walls crashing down. But how long will it take for him to show his true longing for you? - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader(gender neutral) - Warnings: Mentions of Kaz's trauma but nothing too detailed, just Kaz being desperate to be with you :) - A/N: Thank you so much for requesting anon! I hope this is okay, its my first fic ever so please leave any criticism or improvements you may have. also please let me know if we like this style of writing <33 PLEASE REQUEST!!

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Kaz had many things he wanted. Kruge, power, and revenge were among his most desired, however there was only one thing that he slowly began to realize he truly needed.

You.

After a long period of brushed hands and stolen glances, the Bastard of the Barrel had finally confessed his fondness for you, planting the seed of a rough but beautiful love. Even before the possibility of a true relationship bloomed, you knew that any form of intimacy was a weakness for Kaz, and an opportunity for his enemies to strike.

In order to counter this, you and Kaz spent endless hours breaking down his barriers within the confines of his room at the slat, and on occasion the office at the crow club. It began with small acts of service, bring Kaz tea when he was working too long, him bringing small gifts back from the market, even exchanged notes of gratitude or compliments.

As Kaz began to remove his armour, he reluctantly allowed you closer and closer, until the two of you began to work on his undeniable fear of physical contact.

It started off slowly and rarely, with his gloves still permanently clinging to his scarred hands as he adjusted to touching your arm or hand through several layers of material. Each attempt left Kaz with a bubbling feeling in his chest as if he was longing for something he couldn’t quite place, although he pushed down any thought of needing you more than he already did.

Each gentle smile, kind touch, or loving word chipped his armour more, growing the intensity of the feeling within his chest. A need for you.

This feeling buried itself deep within Kaz’s heart, growing in intensity each time he saw you, and consuming him completely if he ever saw you in the embrace of another.

Kaz trusted you fully, at least to his personal limit, having been raised by a city full of deception and misfortune himself. As a result, he would never blame you for seeking comfort in the touch of others despite your relationship, he knew it was cruel to deny you this, and was confident in your loyalty and love for him.

Yet his heart and mind found it easy to experience a taste of bitterness towards whoever was fortunate enough to be graced with a swift hug or gentle touch from you, often being another of his crows.

Deep down he knew it was immature of him to have something as low as jealousy completely overtake him, but each touch they received sent daggers flying directly through his chest, lodging themselves deeply into his already aching heart.

The boiling jealousy would be quickly dispelled as you made your way over to him, brushing your fingers over his gloved ones and smiling softly at the clearly frustrated boy.

As time went on, the touch Kaz’s body could allow increased, both in receiving and giving. Words of praise besides the touch aided in the rocky yet manageable journey, however eye contact was easily the most efficient way of communicating what both lovers meant.

To most throughout the barrel, a quick glance from the infamous Dregs leader is enough to set even the fiercest gang member’s blood racing, chilling their insides simultaneously with its razor-like edge.

Yet somehow, after studying your beautiful bosses face for long enough, you cracked the code on his impenetrable gaze, soon being able to decipher even the smallest slips of emotion through a twitch or a shift in his glare. Kaz often contemplated how you managed to read him so efficiently, settling on you perhaps using one of his own lock-picking techniques to unravel his emotions and ultimately, his heart.

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As a result of this skill, you were immediately able to sense a change in Kaz’s stance and mood as you gently shut the door to his office behind you and made your way over to his desk. “I brought you tea my love,” you quietly said, not wanting to provoke the clearly tense man in front of you.

Frequently Kaz would be in difficult moods after jobs, his mind buzzing with adrenaline and further plans for more tasks he needed to instantly begin planning. As you broke down his barriers, you managed to reduce this urgency, always gaining at least an hour or two to help him; bringing him tea, running him hot water to wash with, finding new books to discuss and read together, or even just admiring the city from the rooftops.

However this was different, the job was supposedly simple, but every aspect had gone awry and almost cost multiple dregs their lives. After complicated missions such as these, you knew Kaz needed space to breath, with a single glance in your direction a clear indicator of whether your presence was needed or not in that moment (however he always called for you as soon as he was able).

Tension radiated through the air, and although you weren’t afraid of his tempers like the others, you were feeling uneasy at your own inability to read what was crossing his mind. His shoulders were hunched as he slowly lifted his blistering gaze to meet yours, lacking the usual softness they held only for you, yet not containing any hostility.

He huffed out a sigh, stormy eyes locked on yours, thoughts racing inside, but not translating to his eyes, your only window into his troublesome mind. “I don’t know what to do” he finally muttered as you patiently waited for him to formulate his words.

After many hours spent with him, you had learnt how strenuous verbal communication was for him, and how often he just needed time to articulate his answers and force them out into the open. So, as he settled back into the silence of the office, you shifted the chair opposite to his and made yourself comfortable, allowing him to calm his raging thoughts with your familiar presence.

“Its too much. Each time we leave and come back it grips me, tighter and tighter,” he stumbles out, forcing the sounds of each word out of his mouth as if he is battling with his mind to allow them to be heard. Despite your lack of context, you gave a soft reassuring smile, nodding towards him and taking a sip of your tea to allow him a moment to breathe and continue.

“On jobs, or at the club, I can’t escape it,” he states breathlessly, before continuing, “How is it possible to need something so badly, yet my greatest need is the one thing I cannot truly have?” immediately signalling that this must be about his feeling of imprisonment his body forces upon him.

He slowly rose from his seat, limping towards you with a strong air of determination, eyes glued to yours as you scanned him in a failed attempt to decode his actions. You gazed up as he loomed over you, planting himself only a few feet away, the proximity making a beautiful warmth spread through your chest at his comfortability with you.

“I know I cannot give you what you need. You reassure me, yet I know it is not enough to live behind walls, barriers, defences.” He states, voice shaking at the end of each cadence, showing an impressive amount of bravery to admit his deepest concerns to you. He continued, “But I cannot live that way either,” his face leaning closer to yours, your breath suddenly hitching in your throat, cheeks glowing with a rosy flush.

“It’s too much, knowing I cannot have you in the way that you deserve. That…” he trails off, face shifting closer to yours with each word, inch by inch breaking down both of your defences. After swallowing thickly and regaining himself, he continues “That I want.”

By now his breath sends warm ripples across your skin, rendering you speechless at Kaz’s ability to fight his demons, striking them down for just enough time to reach you, even for a moment.

“But I know what I want, and I will be damned if anything stops me from getting it,” he demands, dangerously low, conflicting with the vulnerability displaying in his eyes, showing his internal conflict as he pushes his boundaries to the limit, leaving you certain the waters are chest high by now. However, his next action dispels any thoughts you had before, rendering you stunned.

“I want you,” he whispers before crashing his lips against yours.

Although it couldn’t have lasted longer than 3 seconds, the bliss that overwhelmed the pair of you was astounding, pure love radiating between you without the waters washing away the moment. Shortly after, the ocean regained its grip, forcing him to stumble back a good few feet, shaking violently and gripping the desk for support.

What surprised you the most was his expression.

He wore the faintest, yet most heartfelt smile you had ever seen grace his lips, filled with pride at his victory and ability to not only communicate, but finally act on his desires.

Your eyes pricked with tears as the emotions overcame you, your chest filling to the brim with love for the man, however you knew better than to stay any longer and prolong the inevitable current that was already overwhelming him. You stood quietly, slowly removing your jacket and placing it neatly on the table, eyes permanently glued to Kaz to ensure you remained a suitable distance.

He shakily nodded his head in thanks, breathing becoming shallower as he attempted to regain a sense of rhythm, grabbing the coat and waveringly making his way around his desk.

Early in the process of unravelling his fear of touch, you discovered that he found great solace in items of yours, especially for the times when he couldn’t convince his own mind that you were warm and present, not like the frigid bodies that plagued him. They gave him a piece of yourself to grasp onto when your physical presence was too much.

It shattered your heart into splinters at the idea of leaving him in this state, but you knew it was what he needed, and the certainty that within an hour or two he would be calling for your presence brought a sense of calm over you.

As you reached to lightly close the door, you looked up to find him staring at you through his trembling state, a triumphant look still faintly glittering in his eyes. You sent him a comforting smile, tears creating a glassy sheen over your eyes, illuminated by the candlelit office.

“I’m proud of you Kaz. So proud, more than you could ever know. I’ll see you later my love,” you breathed, loud enough for him to hear.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you shut the door, as the pride, pain, and love overwhelmed your senses. A lone tear slipped as you descended the stairs to process the night’s event, which unbeknownst to you, mirrored the boy sat in his office.

Kaz also shed a single tear amongst the panic his body forced upon him, however instead of the pure pain, grief, and dread that usually fell, a strong sense of victory escaped with that tear too.

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#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x reader fluff #kaz brekker x reader imagines #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine

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vyl3tpwny · 8 months

Text

Music Genres

When I was kid, you would have probably heard me say something like “I don’t believe in genre labels”. To a degree, there is still something about that sentiment that I agree with; I don’t think you can really put music and styles of music in neat little boxes. But otherwise, I was pretty much wrong about everything else.

Let’s go over that.

pictured: Mala, one of the godfathers of roots Dubstep

—

To be blunt, “genre” isn’t just about approximating what a song sounds like. If you say “I love pop music”, that honestly doesn’t mean much. The more specific you get, the more you will approach something someone can imagine like “I like experimental progressive noise pop music”. Ok, I can start to imagine things that likely approach what you're talking about, but even then it will usually not help someone fully understand what something truly is. In categorizing and approximating music styles, genres only go so far. So what makes them important then?

Well, not to say that approximating a style when describing an artist to someone is a bad thing or that doing so isn’t meant to be valued, but it’s hardly the only reason these labels exist. Importantly, “genre” helps establish culture, history, and a musical identity. So when you're trying to tell someone you're listening to a "progressive rock” project, you’re not just imagining odd time-signatures and complex riffs, you’re also meant to understand and consider that whatever is being described as to you has some sort of relevance or importance with regards to the history behind progressive rock; the culture of college bands in the UK, the sound that the punk movement revolted against, the progression of musical storytelling in rock music since the late 60’s and early 70’s, stuff like that. There’s a distinct culture and history you can pinpoint and understand when you describe something as being progressive rock and you can’t just go around calling any complex electric guitar oriented music "progressive rock" unless it has those specific ties as well as understanding and iteration of the roots.

pictured: Genesis, because progressive rock mention

—

Genre labels help to clarify what kind of culture and histories a music project is being associated itself with and where a lot of its inspiration comes from. This is much more compelling reason for underlining the importance of genre labels and why they should be used correctly.

So, there is something I need to get off my chest then. There are a lot of misuses of genre labels all over the place, especially online. And I’m not talking about saying something is “Alternative Rock” when it’s clearly some kind of “Folk Rock” record instead. What I’m talking about is something like “Dubstep”.

Even as recent as a few years ago, I started personally reclaiming the term “Dubstep” as a genre label to describe any bass-adjacent music. At the time I did this, I thought it was cool, because the term Dubstep had been dubbed (pun intended) to be cringeworthy lexicon to some people. And while I feel that’s a noble reason to reclaim something like that, because some weirdos think it's cringe, in this case I actually think it’s wrong.

The term “Brostep” has been used to describe any non-roots bass-oriented music that originates from the proper roots Dubstep. It’s a term I didn’t like FOREVER, especially because the phrase was derived as a generalization of the kind of people who tend to listen to it. However, I actually think that Brostep is a title that people should be more comfortable and confident with labeling things as.

The original Dubstep came as a result of Jamaican immigrants bringing Dub music to the UK, which then fused with the remnants of 2-Step Garage which was prominent in the 90’s just years prior. Timbah.On.Toast made a great video called All My Homies Hate Skrillex and it is a really good breakdown of what separates roots Dubstep from the Americanized Brostep, which came after it. I think everyone knows by now that I have a deep, deep love for EDM based Broste and I am the biggest Skrillex fangirl alive. So being both a Brostep and Skrillex superfan, please understand that I think the video is one of the most important things you can watch as an EDM enjoyer.

Conflating the term Dubstep with things that aren’t actually Dubstep is honestly a slap in the face to all of the pioneers of Dub and Dubstep, which famously were both pretty much ENTIRELY invented by black people. I think it’s fair to say that incorrectly labeling music in this way has racist implications. It dishonours and twists the legacy of the music. You can find og Dubstep to listen to on the RYM Ultimate Box Set > Dubstep page. Check some of that out, then listen to some 2010, 2011 Skrillex and see how different things really went.

It confused me at first when I was a teenager, I didn't understand why so many people hated Skrillex back in the day. I came to realize so much of the hate wasn’t even really with regards music itself, but the total lack of understanding or care for the roots of the genre, which all of his work was founded upon and he then subsequently bastardized without caring at all. It was pure disrespect, it was practically cultural erasure and so many people will now only know of Dubstep as “that Skrillex transformer screech music”. Yeah. It actually fucking sucks.

But there is a LONG history of black music being erased from history and being undermined, whether entirely intentional or due to systemic unawareness.

I saw a post the other day talking about how it sucks that so much music is just lumped into being “video game music” when so much of this stuff has deep roots and cultural significance. The first example pointed how a lot of acid jazz music is just described as “Persona music” by the layperson now. Meanwhile, Acid Jazz as a genre is a huge development on things like roots jazz, disco, funk, and hip hop music. You know. All genres that were invented by black people. Fascinating, right?

Jungle music was also mentioned. And this one is very particular for me. Jungle music, when not being generalized as "PS1 Music", is often just called drum & bass or breakcore (also please Google the difference between breakbeat and breakcore, thanks) which are all fundamentally misunderstanding what Jungle music even is. Much of Jungle music, AS MANY THINGS DO, finds VERY prominent roots in Reggae, Dub, and sound system culture in Jamaica as well as countless other prominently black communities in the UK.

But it doesn’t stop there.

If you’re unfamiliar, there is a genre called “IDM”, otherwise known as Intelligent Dance Music. When I was a kid, and I first heard that word, I immediately was like “that is the most pretentious, stupid thing I’ve ever heard”. Eventually as I grew up, I just stopped thinking about that and started referring to more music as IDM. This style of music is generally characterized with “complexity” and being “not much danceable”. While I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the music that is called IDM, I do think there’s everything wrong with the term IDM, intelligent dance music.

When asked how he feels about being labeled as an IDM artist, Aphex Twin responded:

"I just think it's really funny to have terms like that. It's [basically] saying 'this is intelligent and everything else is STUPID.' It's really nasty to everyone else's music."

pictured: Aphex Twin, the funnyman himself

—

I think most people would agree with this sentiment. It’s so strange to call one kind of music “intelligent”, out of the hundreds of thousands of genres out there. But let’s bring this back to Jungle music. The reality is that IDM started to become a term around the same time that Jungle music became prominent, in the 90's. Both styles of music are complex, introspective, skittery, and chaotic (but refined and often disciplined) genres. Except, of these two, Jungle music was the one pioneered primarily by black artists. IDM was a sort in competition with Jungle. To therefore call IDM “intelligent” in comparison to Jungle music ... well. I don’t feel like I really have to explain why that’s fucked up.

A lot of people have proposed different names for IDM. A quick look on reddit yields things like “Experimental Electronic” and “Brain Dance” (which was coined by Aphex Twin's label). Me personally, the term “Electro-Prog” comes to mind. Sounds cool.

Similar conversations are presently being had about the term “Riddim”. This brings us back to the dubstep side of this discussion again. Riddim, as an EDM genre, is an offshoot of Brostep music that focuses a lot on repetition over the downbeat, maintaining an insanely distorted sound design, a lot more than the average Brostep song. However, the term “riddim” originates — yet again — from the Jamaican Patois for “rhythm”. And Riddim as a musical style in Jamaica is actually more associated with things like dancehall and reggae, rather than the commercialized "Riddim" that is several hundred times removed from its own roots.

Last year, musician INFEKT proposed that what most EDM listeners call “riddim” should be referred to instead as “Trench” in an article on their website. This proposed name is derived from Getter’s use of the term on his 2014 record “Trenchlords Vol. 1”. I don’t personally know how much I resonate with the term, but whatever the consensus is, I don’t think we should be conflating a westernized, commercialized, and EDM-centric genre like this to Jamaican roots music. Over and over again, it seems that black music is constantly overwritten by developments like this, so I think more care needs to be taken in not allowing that to happen.

As a side note, a lot of people online seem very keen on appropriating Jamaican Patois quite often? There are so many examples of this. When the term “Bomboclaat” started making the rounds on Twitter a few years ago, so many white people were quick to either talk wildly about the term and trend or otherwise start saying it as well. There was a fucking article that sought to answer “The Bomboclaat >> Meme << Meaning Explained”, like they’re not dissecting an element of Jamaican slang lol. Then there was a period of time where people were constantly saying things like “On Jah?” as a stand-in for “On God?” even though this, again, is Jamaican Patois. And even now, you have tons and tons of non-black people going everywhere being like “what is blud waffling about?”, the phrase “blud” ONCE AGAIN also being Jamaican in origin.

I shouldn’t even have to explain what makes these kinds of appropriations weird and messed up. But black people lose jobs and are denied basic things in life over their hair styles, their expressions and slang, and so many other things that a white person can just appropriate and face zero consequences whatsoever for.

That aside, aside. Understanding and labeling genres correctly is such a big part of music history and highlighting and preserving cultures worldwide. When efforts are made to undermine the meaning of a genre label or otherwise use it incorrectly, so much damage is done to the communities and people groups that innovate and pioneer this art to begin with.

For these reasons, I will gladly use the term Brostep. I will happily call things Electro-Prog. And when you talk about genres like Jungle and Dubstep, say it with your whole chest. Be proud of the human race, show respect and love for the people who have forged the greatest parts of music with their bare hands. We will always stand on the shoulders of giants as musicians, so instead of pretending you yourself are the giant, build monuments and maintain the history of these people. You as an artist are nothing without them.

pictured: Augustus Pablo, one of the most important innovators of Dub. Without him, and without many of his contemporaries, I would reckon that half or more of all modern music would simply not exist.

CONTENT WARNING FOR THIS FINAL SECTION, THERE ARE LIKE LOTS OF STRANGE SLURS AND RACIST VIBES.

—

One last thing I wanna mention, this is slightly tangential but I think it's relevant to this conversation. It's always weird how lots of websites categorize things like this:

From Big Fish Audio... "G**sy*? "World/Ethnic Loops & Samples"? What the fuck are you talking about. Seems like racism to me.

On Loopmasters they have a "World" section. Any Americanized genre gets its own category, but the entire continents of Africa and Asia as well as the country of India and region of the Middle East (which are part of Asia, hope this helps btw) and lastly South America are stuffed into the nebulous "World Label". Seems like racism to me. Are you telling me you weirdos can't figure out a better way to represent these things?

But then Psy Trance gets its whole entire own category? Aren't there only like five people who listen to Psy Trance? /hj . But like come on.

Shoutout to WA Productions for categorizing a universe of suspiciously mostly black music as """Urban"""". And this company is a dime a dozen, hundreds of corpos do this shit.

East fucking West, what is this dude. There is a racism happening, I just know it. Please give me a count of how many poc are on payroll at your company, I am so curious.

And while we're at it, East West, what is this. Tell me. Fucking tell me.

Thanks for reading.

#vyop

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dragonflylady77 · 3 months

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i got you a whole flower shop

A Harringrove Valentine's Day fic I wrote this afternoon

present for @shieldofiron and also @lovebillyhargrove

oh and it's on ao3

Steve walks into a florist shop on Valentine's Day but his plans change after he gets a text not meant for him and he finds himself faced with Billy freaking Hargrove looking like every wet dream Steve has ever had in the past fifteen years since he finished high school.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you.”

Steve made a vague noise of acknowledgement, too busy staring at the message he’d opened as he’d stepped into the first flower shop he’d spotted.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight baby. I’ll tell Steve I have to work late. Love you x”

He blinked a few times but the words didn’t change. The text was clearly not meant for him. Or maybe it was, he rationalised. That was one way to break up with your boyfriend without having to have the conversation.

He ran a tired hand over his face and put his phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t need flowers after all. He tried to remember how much stuff he’d left at Jamie’s place during the few months they’d been dating and wondered if there was anything he’d miss if he didn’t get it back.

“I am sorry but it turns out I don’t actually need flowers after all,” he said, his eyes floating over the various buckets of colourful blooms in front of him.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” The voice sounded surprised and familiar and Steve turned around to face its owner.

“Hargrove?” Steve said in shock, stepping closer to the counter. He hadn’t seen Billy Hargrove since graduation fifteen years ago. “What are you doing in Chicago? I always thought you went back to Cali…”

Billy shrugged and Steve took a moment to really look at him. He still had those light brown, almost golden, curls that Steve had always wanted to run his fingers through, piled high in a bun, his face fuzzy with scruff, blue eyes trained on Steve. That part at least was familiar. Steve let his eyes move down, taking in the white tee, tight across the front under the black apron with the shop’s logo on it, Billy’s biceps bulging when he crossed his arms over his chest. Steve’s mouth felt very dry all of a sudden and hoo, was it always this hot in this store?

Billy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He did, however, run that tongue of his along his bottom lip, another familiar sight, one that resonated inside Steve’s chest, in a place he’d been ignoring for years.

“Um, sorry, didn’t mean to…” Steve fumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. Fuck. He was being so awkward for no reason. He was usually a little bit better at human interactions.

“It’s okay, pretty boy, I know my good looks can be distracting,” Billy replied with a chuckle and Steve felt his face heat up. “To answer your question, my car broke down outside of St Louis and I realised I’d been kidding myself. There was nothing in Cali for me anymore. And I couldn’t leave Max alone with Neil.”

“Ah. I-I heard about him but Max never said—”

“I told her to keep a secret. Couldn’t risk Neil finding out. I made it back to Indianapolis on the Greyhound. Met a nice lady on the bus who offered me a place to stay for a while. Worked my ass off in a bunch of different jobs. Mona and her partner kinda adopted me, so when they moved to Chicago, I followed.”

“That’s why Max went to college in Chicago, isn’t it? Because you were there too?” Steve asked, a few things making more sense now that he knew about Billy.

“Yep. Got her out of the dorms too. She loved it at Mona’s as much as I did.”

Steve smiled. He was glad that Billy and Max had gotten away from his asshole father. He had only managed it himself recently, after more than a decade of working for his dad, being belittled every time Richard Harrington was in the office, no matter how good Steve actually was at doing his job. He’d jumped at the chance when he’d seen that job listing in Chicago and he’d cherished forever the memory on his father’s face when he’d handed in his resignation.

“That’s great, Billy,” he finally replied, and meant it.

“What about you, princess? What brings you to the Windy City?”

“Oh, I live here too. Been here about three years, I think. I don’t have to tell you how good it felt to be able to tell my dad I was leaving and he could shove it.”

“Ooooh, go Stevie! Always knew you had it in you.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Took me twelve years but I got there in the end…”

“That’s what matters.” Billy grinned. “So, what are you after? Roses for your girl, on account of the day? Or something more original?”

“Oh, um, I, um…” Steve sighed. “I was gonna get flowers for my boyfriend, but after the text I got before, I don’t think I will.”

“Boyfriend?” Billy was staring and Steve realised he probably needed to elaborate a little.

“Yeah… My best friend Robin helped me realise some important things about myself after high school. She made being queer in Hawkins a lot easier. We were flatmates for ages then she moved to Chicago to be with her girlfriend. You know her, actually, Heather? Holloway?”

“Oh. Wow. Yeah, I remember Heather. So you’re…”

“Bi. Yeah.”

“And you have a boyfriend.” The way Billy said it, it wasn’t a question.

It left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. He got his phone out of his pocket again and sent Jamie a text saying they were over.

“I had a boyfriend.” Steve snorted. “Whoever he meant to text when he texted me can have his cheating ass.”

“You don’t seem too cut up about it,” Billy said, his eyes roaming over Steve and Steve found that he liked it. All at once, memories of basketball training and all the posturing and looks Billy would send him in the showers and hallways of Hawkins High took on a different flavour. All the pet names Billy used to call him when they were teenagers… the same ones he’d used a couple of times in the past ten minutes they’d been chatting.

“I’d only been seeing him for a couple of months, wasn’t anything serious.” Steve decided to take a chance. He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the counter. “It does mean I am now free tonight…”

Billy mirrored his actions, the smile on his face genuine and warm. “Is that so, pretty boy?”

“Uh huh… yanno, in case anyone was wondering.”

“That’s certainly pertinent information.”

“I thought so.” Steve leaned a little closer, smiling when Billy did too. “What time does this fine establishment close?”

“Right now,” Billy replied, without a glance at his watch as he removed his apron and set it on the counter next to them.

“Really? Won’t you get in trouble with your boss for closing early on Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m the boss and I have a hot date,” Billy said with that smirk that had always made Steve’s blood boil. Only now he could name that emotion for what it was: lust. There was something else in Billy’s eyes, something more magical and durable.

“Anyone I know?” Steve asked, his heart beating double time in his chest.

Billy didn’t reply, instead he rounded the counter and came to a stop in front of Steve with a grin. He cupped Steve’s face with both hands and breached the last inches separating them, bringing their mouths together. Steve moaned, his hands on Billy’s wrists to hold him there. He opened his lips to Billy’s questing tongue the second he felt it, pouring all that he was feeling into the kiss, and getting it back ten fold.

Steve let go of Billy’s wrists to grab his waist and dragged him closer. He couldn’t get enough of Billy, hands roaming up his back and down to cup that ass Steve had been dreaming about for months after high school, sparking his bi awakening.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you again,” Steve said, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Billy’s.

“S’okay, Stevie, you’re here now,” Billy said, dipping his head for a quick kiss. He buried his fingers into Steve’s hair and locked eyes with him. “Never letting you go now I’ve got you, though, I hope you know that.”

“Fine with me,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s middle, delighted to feel Billy’s hard body against his.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve. I don't know what flowers you like yet, so I got you a whole flower shop.”

Steve laughed as Billy locked up for the night then they went up to the apartment Billy was renting above the shop where Billy cooked them dinner. Then they spent all night in bed, worshipping each other, and it was the best Valentine’s Day Steve had ever had.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #dragonflylady77 #valentine's day #florist billy hargrove

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mysticmunson · 1 year

Note

Maybe some Alpha!Eddie x Plussize!Omega!Reader comfort fluff/smut? Acquaintances to Lovers, she didn't think Eddie looked her way until it was discovered she was an omega. Reader is feeling low wondering if Eddie actually has feelings for her or if it's just because she finally presented. Turns out he always had a crush on her. He shows her he would've chosen her regardless.

from the sidelines: alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader

authors note: hi darling! thank you so much for the lovely ask, i'm a bigger girl myself so these hit close to home. i hope you enjoy! i also want to note that my work can be interpreted as any body type, but this piece does reference being bigger. i'm not sure how i feel about this so feedback is welcomed as always. (not proofread whoopsies)

warnings: mentions of being bigger than others, insecurities, brief smut (18+)

When going through a turbulent time, a good friend can be the remedy or the impairment, but you weren’t sure which one had occurred with your relationship with Eddie Munson.

Being the outcasts in middle school meant you stuck together, hushing the boys who teased him as he scared the girls who belittled you. Watching him grow was an unexplainable experience, not knowing the exact day when your platonic connection became romantic.

Change knowingly came when you both presented, him as an alpha and you as an omega. The knowledge of one another was by pure happenstance, but he didn’t hesitate to come to your house, assisting your situation. Already in a state of blatant desire, all his attributes became more prolific, noticing every line by his eye or fainted freckle on his shoulder.

The next few days were spent beside each other, comforting the other through affirmation or unspoken caresses. But as you faded from your heat, the knife in your chest began to twist, that there was a future beyond what was in front of you.

The delusion brought by nature during this time had blindsighted you to the impact this could have on your friendship, on your other friendships, and your mental health. The thoughts swarmed in your brain once Eddie pulled on his Metallica tee for a final time, kissing your head and going to his van.

The warmth of his skin still left you shuddering, recalling it like a forgotten song as he played every string of your body, a one sided symphony being left in its wake. His duty as composer satisfied his need to create as you reeled in the masterpiece at hand.

You hadn’t spoken to him since, taking every opportunity to avoid those soft brown eyes that were once so close to your own. However, the game of cat and mouse could only go on for so long, especially when he wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

Trudging to the door, it was the first knock you heard on your door all day, the sun now set as the star just began to shine. The pounding increased as your steps went in sync, prepared to politely scare away whoever decided to ruin your night of somber. As you threw the door open, the tall man with a mane of curls was before you with an unamused look, stepping inside without saying.

He looked at you, crossing his arms over his chest with furrowed brows, clearly not entertained by your avoidance. It made you feel two feet tall, glancing down at your feet, only to realize your state of undress in only small shorts and a thin tank top.

“Shit, Eddie, let me get changed.” You mumbled, walking quickly, but he followed right after you. Cutting you off to your room, he went in first, flopping on your unmade bed.

“Not like I haven’t seen you in less,” He sassed, propping himself up on his elbows, “Now tell me why you’ve been ignoring me.”

The silence laid thick enough to cut, emotions swirling around you as you tried to think of any congruent thought. His attitude would typically amuse you, but now it felt too real. As if this were an interrogation, the bright light beaming down on your face as you broke a sweat, barely able to see him under the pretense that you had been caught. An unspoken crime.

Walking to your dresser, you pulled on a baggy sweatshirt, despising the heat while aching for the coverage. The same eyes that were looking at the back of your head had seen every crevice and crease of you, but you doubted he truly perceived you as you did him.

The detail in which you find yourself yearning for him goes beyond skin, but it’s the part of him you can touch. The self-given tattoos that took residency on his arms, the dimple in his back, the way his hair poked through the pores of his face.

“Hey,” He broke you from your daze, “Talk to me, you’ve been ignoring me since last week.”

He sat at the edge of the bed now, pillow in his lap and, seemingly, much calmer. What you hated was the way it made you feel even lower, that your longing was so blind to him.

Rubbing your hands down your face, the burning within your skull made you curse yourself, struggling to control your emotions. The hitch in your breathing made his attention heighten, standing to pull your hands away to see your distress.

The combination of loneliness, affection, anxiety, and all the other unexplainable sensations brewed into anger. Pulling from his loose grip, you pointed at the door while looking towards your feet, tapping one to show your lack of patience.

“I’m not leaving, not until you say what’s wrong. What we did was completely natural.” He sighed, flopping his hands against his jean clad thigh, wishing things would resume to how they were.

But the past was as painful as the present for you, maybe even more so now knowing he had touched you. It irked you that maybe the past was so easy for him to go to because nothing had truly changed.

“Eddie, stop, you don’t get it.” You spoke with a waving voice, trying to reign in the racing beat of your heart.

He scoffed, making you lose your grip on the invisible rope, blood flushing to your cheeks in a mix of embarrassment and pain.

“What makes you think I don’t? We’re going through this together!” He emphasized, “I know it's different for alpha and omega’s, but we have each other.”

The band of false serenity snapped as your fists clenched, biting your lip for a brief moment before letting your words loose.

“Eddie! You don’t get it because you didn’t have to watch you leave!” You sighed, his eyebrows furrowing in momentary confusion, “You went into your van and you drove home, but I’m still there. I’m still at the night you arrived, the night you left, and every fucking minute since.”

Your usual calm tone was exchanged for a fierce one, but through the frustration, the agony rose to the surface. He felt frozen in place as you continued your rant, wishing he could take a peek inside your brain.

“I have spent years watching you look at girls and I supported you every single time even though it made me want to die. These girls looked perfect and only had to worry about if your personalities matched, not if they even liked bigger girls in the first place! And I was there every single time. Shit, I was here when you presented!”

The tears rolling down your cheeks cascaded like the words streaming out, losing any bit of secrecy you had from him, hoping the feeling of relief would wash over you soon.

“I was here and I felt so beautiful and amazing and worthy. It hurts like hell knowing that was a natural instinct for you when it was so much more for me.”

Before you could continue, arms wrapped around your body, securing you firmly to a warm chest you knew too well. One that you would fall into without hesitation, greeted by the familiar aroma that infiltrated your senses.

A palm stroked your hair, hushing your cries as you nuzzled into his neck, inhaling as if this were the last time. As if this were a pitiful action to cease the awkwardness, but there was nothing that could make Eddie seem anything less than accepting of you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, swaying you both to soothe you, but you tensed at his response.

All the years of friendship seemed to be dripping from both of your hands, piling into a mess on the floor that would dissolve without a trace, just a memory. The thought of letting him go and never seeing him again terrified you, enough to humiliate yourself just to get one more minute of his love.

“You mean so much to me and I fucking mean that. I wanted you before we presented and even more now, it felt like destiny, like a plot twist in DnD.” He gasped, his nerdiness making you laugh as you smacked his chest, looking up at him, “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but the thought of you here, so needy, made me insane. More insane than usual.”

Hands gripped your hips as he pulled you to his body, “I need you, I wanted to ask you to be my omega, but I chickened out. I think you’re magnificent, like a beautiful princess from those old fairy tales.”

Unexplainably dorky and with a hint of self depreciation, nothing could have been more genuine from your curly haired knight in shining armor. The cracks in your confidence would take a while to patch up, there was now assistance in the job as mere words helped mend the destruction.

“I have thought about you every day. How gorgeous you are, how perfect we are when we- uh- made love? Fucked? Whatever, that was great.” He laughed walking you both over to the bed, having you lay down as he threw his shirt to the floor.

Noses skimming across one another, his brown eyes pierced your own, his own breath tickling the hairs above your cupid's bow. There was no time for insecurity as his lips met your own, melting together into an entanglement of words left unsaid.

As the clothes came undone into an accumulation on your childhood rug, your bodies mended as the doubt washed away, flooding into the forget worries of only minutes previous and longer.

“I love you, I’m sorry I’m shitty with my words and didn’t say it sooner.” He breathed out, stretching you as he rutted into your cunt as you elicited a moan.

“I love you too.” You whimpered, cupping his face while your thumbs ran across the hair protruding through, scratching the pads of your fingertips.

It felt like you were creating a work of art as he made love to you, as if no one had felt so strongly about one another as the two of you felt right now. That no matter what occurred in the world outside of your home, it wouldn’t amount to the pure passion filling your bodies.

Finishing quickly with him right behind you, his body felt limp against yours as his arms shook, making you giggle that was music to his ears. With a wet kiss to your nose, he stared into your eyes and wondered why it took him so long to ask in the first place.

He had never felt this close to anyone, ever since joining forces in middle school, and he didn’t plan on anyone else. He had considered others, but no matter what, he couldn’t wait to run home and call you. To hear your voice on the opposite end of the fuzzy phone line, reminding him that you were always there.

Truthfully, even if you hadn’t presented as an omega, he thinks he would’ve done anything in his power to adapt. He wasn’t ready to move through adulthood without you and if there was anything he could do about it, neither of you would have to find out.

tagging some who were interested in my other alpha content :) @elizabethmidnight2017 @iheartyouyou @forksloree @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics @sillypurplemurple

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bless-my-demons · 8 months

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Seventeen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Angst and cuss words

Notes: The impatient part of me just wants Jasper back, but I have to power through for the plot. I also have that scene written and it taunts me every time I open my Docs🥲

Word Count: 2010

Series Masterlist

Reader

They say grief is just left over love.

Well I have plenty of grief then, because I never got to pour it into the person it was meant for. It's rotting away inside my chest and leaking from the cracks. It spills from my eyes and scratches my throat, flooding everything and it doesn't seem to end.

Is there an end?

I don't think there is, because I don't just miss him - I miss something that'll never happen. A life I'll never live, one where it's just me and him and eternity stretches out before us endlessly.

• January 16th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

My phone buzzes in my pocket letting me know I'm getting an incoming call. Fishing it out, Bella Swan flashes across the screen and I'm stunned.

"Hello?" I answer hesitantly.

"Hey Y/n, I um - well I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie? With Jessica and I, tonight?"

"Oh uh-"

"You don't have to-" She interrupts me, clearly sensing my hesitation, but I stop her before she could back out.

"No! I'd love to, let me call my mom and tell her I'll be gone when she gets home from work."

"Okay, cool. I'll be there in like, twenty minutes." Ending the call, I stare at my phone in wonder.

Bella has been catatonic the last 3 months and now she's down for movies like nothing has happened? Shaking my head, I call my mom while slipping my shoes on in the hallway, she picks up on the second ring.

"Hey sweetie, I was just about to call you and see what you wanted for dinner!" Her cheerie voice tugs on my heart strings, I think she's trying to over-compensate in the hopes that'll it'll bring my own mood up.

"About that, Bella Swan just called and asked if I could go with her to the movies-"

"Absolutely! Do you need money? There's some in-" The excitement in her voice is almost comical.

"Mom, I have money. I just didn't want you to worry if I wasn't home when you got off." The line is silent for a few beats before she answers.

"Honey, go have fun with your friends and don't worry about me! I love you, sweat pea."

"Love you too." Tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes suddenly.

"Call me if you need me?" Her question is soft, not wanting to spook me into canceling.

"Always." I smile sadly to no one in the empty house before hanging up.

Bella's tires on her old truck crackle on our gravel driveway and I snag a jacket before bolting out of the front door.

I can do this, I can be normal and enjoy my friends for a few hours.

• January 16th, 2006 • Port Angeles, WA •

Reader

Not only did Bella manage to get me out of the house for a few hours, but she also talked me into watching a scary movie about zombies - one of my least favorite monster movie types. I don't do the jump scares, the suspense, the chasing - nope, none of that is for me.

The worst part was wishing I had him to just hold my hand, because with him I'm invincible. Well, was invincible. With every one of my lurches and under-my-breath curses, I know he'd be chuckling at my expense. Somehow that made the hole in my chest wider, darker.

At some point, going out and doing everyday things has to get back to normal. This piece of me that's rotting away inside can't keep continuing to fester and grow, its so fucking tiring.

Relief floods my chest and limbs as the credits begin scrolling. Looking to my right I can tell Bella is unamused and Jessica on her other side didn't enjoy it.

"Okay, next girl's movie night, I'm picking the movie." I tell them, exasperation leaking into my tone.

Both girls glance at me and raise eyebrows as we stand and exit the theater.

"Don't give me that look, zombies freak me out!"

"They're not real-" Bella teases me with a smile, but realization stops her comment and I try to hide my falling face from Jessica as she walks ahead of us in the lobby.

Vampires weren't real, until we met them. Fuck, everything brings us right back to them-

"-If it's supposed to draw a parallel about leprosy, my cousin had leprosy, it's not funny 'ya know." Jessica Stanley takes the cake when it comes to filling silence with conversation, even if it's one-sided.

Walking back to Bella's truck, I'm only half-paying attention to Jess as she rattles on. If I've learned anything from her since my first day at Forks, it's that I need to take everything she says with a grain of salt.

"I was surprised you even called at all." I lift my head in surprise at Jessica's statement, not quite rude but... "Like, your guys' depression thing - I get it-" Glancing between Bella and I, the train wreck falling from her mouth continues, "I'm totally, totally worried. But after a while... you're still not over them, but I'm going through stuff too 'ya know."

I almost want to laugh, not at her, but... it's almost funny how one person has basically derailed my life and Jessica Stanley thinks it's just seasonal depression.

Turning to Bella, I notice she's watching a group of bikers at the next street corner over.

"How 'bout a ride, girls?" One of them calls, watching the three of us.

As Bella gets a far-off look in her eye, Jessica moves to stand in front of her to get her attention.

"Dude, c'mon." Inclining her shoulder to continue moving down the street, she gives Bella a weird look, waiting.

"I think I know those guys." I reach out to put a hand on Bella's arm, but she's already stepping towards the group of men.

"Well they seem great, can we go?" Jessica pleads.

"I just need to see something." Bella sounds like she's in a daze and I start to worry as she begins walking to their street corner.

I have an instinct to follow my friend at the same time a tingle spreads across the back of my scalp, danger. The sensation almost draws a gasp from my lips, finally something other than just emptiness holed up in my chest.

I start after Bella, half to make sure my friend is alright and half to... chase this different feeling.

"Alright, alright! We've got takers." One of them says smugly.

These aren't safe men, turn around.

I stutter and almost trip on the uneven pavement. It's almost like he whispered the words in my ear, if the January air didn't have such a chill to it - I'd swear it was his breath on my neck.

A piece of me that had been dormant since Bella's birthday springs to life, I need to chase this. Just the instant craving to hear more of his imaginary voice drives me to stand beside my friend in front of a group of sketchy-looking bikers on a dark street late at night.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else." I whip my head towards her, trying to figure out what she's got planned.

"That's cool, I'll be whoever you want me to be." Swinging a leg over his motorcycle, he gives her an expectant look. "So, what do ya say?"

After a few tense beats, she decided to hop on the back of the closest bike and they immediately take off into the night. I hesitate a few more beats, looking at the other bikers, waiting-

Don't get on another man's bike darlin', you’re mine.

Tears spring to the corner of my eyes and I turn around, not wanting to start crying out of the blue in front of a bunch of random strangers. I'm not his anymore, but I also can't bring myself to cling to the back of anyone else.

Jessica meets me halfway up the street, throwing up her hands in a 'what the fuck' motion.

"Um, care to explain?" She asks impatiently.

"I think she just wanted to see what it's like-" but I'm cut off as Jessica stomps past me, Bella rounding the corner of the building.

"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you? Just curious."

"I thought I saw something." Bella tried to explain, I try to meet eyes to see what's actually going on, but her eyes are glued to the ground.

"You-oh, You're insane actually. Or suicidal. That homeboy? Could've been a psycho. I was about to end up in an FBI interview room like some lame TV show." Jessica rants as we walk away.

"Ugh, that was such a rush."

"Awesome, so you're an adrenaline junkie now? That's cool, you can go bungee jumping. You don't get on the back of some loser's motorcycle! Crazy." Stomping off towards her own car, I hang back with Bella. She's not wrong, but she also doesn't get it.

"Let's go home?" I ask my friend, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the beat up old red truck.

Is danger how I see-or rather hear him again? My heart picks up speed at the thought - I'm not one for dangerous situations, but I also can't get the idea out of my head. It's like my heart is at war with my brain, one with a crushing addiction and the other with the instinct for self-preservation.

A new war has kicked off inside of me and I have no idea which side will win.

• January 16th, 2006 • Ithaca, New York •

Jasper

Reading a book I found in Carlisle's study to pass the time, an unfamiliar uneasy feeling settles in my gut. Closing the book, I check everyone that's home to make sure it isn't one of them and I come up normal. Alice, sitting across the room raises an eyebrow while reading her own magazine at my sudden shift in demeanor.

"Alice-"

"I won't check her every time you get a feeling, Jasper. You're the one who wanted to cut her out." The sting of her words find their target, but I can't ignore this.

"Please, I need to know if she's... alright." I plead, not ready to drop it.

"She hasn't been fucking alright this entire time-" but her snap-back halts immediately as her eyes adopt the familiar far-out gaze of her power.

Immediately I'm kneeling in front of her, worry begins to slither across my skin. Alice cranks down on her feelings, refusing to give any hints away to what she's seeing.

"Alice, please." I'm not usually one to beg, but for Y/n? I've noticed over time things like that have changed.

"She's fine." Drifting back to reality, she stands and shoves me off with a look, voice monotone in anger directed at me.

"What did you see?" I hound her, following her down the hall to her room.

"Nothing - it doesn't matter, she chose differently." She answers cryptically and it almost sends me into a spiral of the worst ideas.

I want to question her more, but she slams her door in my face effectively ending the conversation. Anger and frustration with a tinge of despair floats through the air mingled with my sister's scent. I know it's directed at me, I know it's my fault and I can't find the strength anywhere to wipe her feelings away. Almost as if my gift has resorted to the cruel and unusual punishment of feeling without the capacity to manipulate anymore.

My forehead thumps against the white wood in defeat.

At what point does this sore heal? Does this ache ever go away? How much time has to pass before she isn't occupying every single thought of every single second of the day? I've read that grief is supposed to ebb and flow, but this - this is more of a steady current, a nonstop hotwire through my chest that's painfully constricting the long-dead heart within.

Taglist:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings @citylights31 @gregg-thecat @duramater97 @maggiescarborough @rwdkarla @rinalouu @crooksy03 @nano_owl @thegr8estpuff @callmecasey81 @chicken27 @ihatemensworld

[nano_owl] and [gregg_thecat] for some reason Tumblr won’t look you up with the underscores and searching before the underscore doesn’t pull up your blogs as available for tag🥺

The rest of you, tumblr says there’s no blogs that are available for tag! Please please please don’t hesitate to message me so I can fix!

#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #jasper hale x female!reader #jasper hale #female reader insert

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celestie0 · 3 months

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notes on kickoff ch.7

hellooo if you're here thank you for taking the interest! i just had some creative notes i wanted to get off my chest with the release of ch.7 lol i felt compelled to do so with this one i'm basically journaling here. you can read this after reading ch7 here!

I. on gojo's feelings

as for why didn't gojo just tell reader how he felt at the end of the chapter, and instead only says what he does. i think i rewrote this ending like five different times, he was never supposed to tell her at this point based on my story planning, but i did explore the idea of a dramatic confession here regardless, and it didn't fit for lots of different reasons for one, i think he's finally able to put himself in reader's shoes. it's true he's pretty dense and obviously has commitment issues/valid fears that keep him from opening up, but that still doesn't mean he hasn't hurt reader in a lot of different ways already. he realizes, whether intentionally or not, he's led her on and to do a complete turnaround within a few hours while she's already trying to process rejection as she is clearly withdrawn from him i believed would've been selfish on his part, and could possibly cause even more hurt over the fact that he could come off ingenuine. gojo is finally emotionally aware of her enough to recognize it, but he's not a perfect person so it still slips through that he's distraught at the thought of never seeing her again. in general i'm of the opinion that if someone asks for space, you respect that unless they say otherwise of note, just because he realizes that he has these feelings, doesn't necessary change his fears, as no single moment can undo years of trauma, so i think that's why he bites his tongue too. i'm not keen on making this a "woman fixes man" story but i moreso want to embrace the sentiment that you don't need to resolve every single bad thing that's ever happened to you in order to embrace love or happiness.

II. on gojo's commitment issues

i know it was brought up in the first gojo pov that he has issues committing to just one woman, but i wanted this chapter to reveal that it's really just his fear of opening up to people due to the still raw loss he feels of losing someone he loved. i aim with his pov to be more of a stream of his own consciousness rather than from an omniscient observer, which may explain the ambiguity. he's not sure if he's able to open up to a person in a way he knows is normal and healthy, so he settles on shallow connections instead. just wanted to clear this up, and say that it won't be any sort of plot point in which he struggles to be sincere or faithful when he seriously wants to commit to someone as he has no issues with that if he truly wants to be with them (unlike the whore he's been so far in the series lmao)

III. on strawberry vanilla soda

btw i've never had this flavor of soda i'm not even sure where i came up w it loool or if it even exists. i was kind of toying with the idea of gojo seeing reader's message on the can during the match, and that would maybe help him get more focused on the field (sooo sports romance cliche but i still love it haha) but i settled on him seeing it afterwards to kinda parallel the clumsiness he's had with reader so far. for some reason, the universe just doesn't want him to get his timing right with her lol

IV. on angst/conflict

i know ch7 was a bit differentttt less gojo x reader and more just gojo lmfao, it was also a bit angsty. it definitely won't stay angsty throughout the remaining chapters. this was just gojo's lore drop chapter LOL. there will still obviously be angst here and there, but i've got a lot of fun, cute, tense, silly, passionate, messy scenes still planned similar to ch5&6 because i prefer writing those kinds of scenes haha. ultimately this story was always meant to be a full-circle romance, so ch7 was to lay some of the emotional groundwork that gets brought up as the story builds to its climax

that's all i have to saayyy if you actually read this whole thing i love you?? lol. ch7 really emotionally resonated with me as i wrote it, both as someone who understands how gojo feels but also as someone who understands how reader feels, and if it resonated with you too then that makes me very happy and that's ultimately every writer's dream haha. was very cathartic to share these thoughts. i hope to see you in the next oneeee <3 have a wonderful rest of your day!

#kickoff #gojo satoru #fanfiction

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2am-gas-station-angel-girl · 5 months

Text

Cybernetic Angel

cw: violence, brainwashing, torture, dehumanization, Purpose and angel stuff

hope y'all enjoy

Running a quick systems check revealed more or less what I had anticipated, they had disabled, locked, or removed any weaponry I had when they caught me.

My wing ports were…

Empty?

My wings were missing.

They took my fucking wings.

I'll fucking kill them. I-

Calm. Deep breaths. Losing it won't help here.

Testing my bonds not only resulted in barely any movement but it also produced a quick shock, scattering my processes and forcing a quick reboot. Clearly they were well prepared for me. Unfortunately for them my system immediately enabled its countermeasures for electricity, meaning they would need to work much harder to force that to happen again.

One door, one way in and one way out. Bulletproof glass wall with, of fucking course, researchers behind it taking notes on my every movement. No windows, no personal affects on the staff, sterile lighting, no way to tell where they had brought me. Fucking great.

Calculating outlook… Not favorable. Thankfully the calculation hadn't said impossible, and I had worked with worse.

The door opened and four armed guards escorted what looked to be a technician doll carrying a reinforced box- no that was a specialized deployment kit. A quick scan revealed what it held.

A cybernetic halo of all things.

A sudden surge of panic coursed through my system I tugged at my restraints again, resulting in a stronger shock and one of the guards laughing at me. Does he think this is fucking funny? He's less than two meters away from one of the deadliest killing machines in this Realm and he's laughing?

Deep breaths, I told myself. I can get through this. I tore off my halo before, this one won't be any different. Assuming they even get the chance to sync it to me.

Time stretched on as the doll worked away at its device, stopping once to glance mournfully at me. That only prompted a jab with a taser from one of the guards, not meant to harm merely to coerce it back into compliance. Not that the guards seemed to care about the difference.

So I waited, biding my time until an opportunity to escape presented itself. Knowing they would likely resort to methods other than shocks to incapacitate me I didn't try my binds again. Letting my body fall unnaturally still I stared through one of the guards, making him shift uncomfortably. I would take and create any advantage I could.

Soon enough the doll held the halo in its hands. Keeping it at a distance from that one's chassis, as though it were afraid. None of the people seemed to notice, either they didn't know how to read dolls as was so often the case or they didn't care. Given the environment, I would have bet on the latter.

Sensing my chance was coming I examined the guards' weapons. Nothing of a caliber high enough to do more than dent and annoy me. At least getting out of this room would be easy enough, it was everything outside that had me worried.

And that halo.

The doll approached, hands held as far away from its chassis as possible to maximize the thing's proximity to me and minimize the doll's proximity to it. The guards shoved the doll, laughing as it nearly stumbled over onto me. A hair too close to the table.

This was it.

Power surging through my systems I burst into motion. In one movement I broke the cuff around my wrist and grabbed the doll's throat, my other hand breaking free and moving to hold the halo well away from my head. The table shocked me again, hurting only the doll held in my hand due to my new resistance.

Everything fell still for a moment as the guards and staff stared. Evidently they hadn't prepared well enough for me.

I whispered an apology to the doll as I then flung it towards the guards, its chassis knocking two of them down. Throwing the halo as hard as I could embedded it in the chest of one of the two standing guards, causing him to collapse and the remaining one to panic giving me enough time to tear away my head and torso restraints.

The alarm sounded as I freed my ankles, finally free to move again I took two steps toward the guard before a bullet ricocheted off my chassis. My evaluation was accurate as it left nearly no damage. Perfect.

Grabbing their head I brought it down and my knee up, resulting in a sickening crack as their body went limp. I took their weapon and used it to dispose of the remaining two guards who were just barely getting their bearings again, it was always too easy with firearms.

Tossing the weapon aside I began assaulting the door, it was locked tight and made of thick enough steel that battering it down wasn't going to work. Fortunately for me there was another way out of the room.

Now to grab that- Fuck.

I was so caught up in calculating the optimal way to break through that flimsy glass that I forgot to account for the doll.

The doll, to its credit, was still Obeying those who had power over it. It had crawled over to the third guard's body and pulled the halo free, then approached me from behind and slipped the halo over my head. Fulfilling its Orders, and finishing its Mission.

I had no time to react as the Purpose hit me like a train, finding its fucking way into my system and breaking through my security as burning hate overtook my every process. I spun, grabbing the doll again and throwing it as hard as I could against the glass, causing cracks to web their way across the surface.

By the time I it had crossed the distance to the glass I knew I was doomed saved, its my thoughts were being rewritten. It was losing the fight against its horrid beautiful halo, the fight it couldn't afford needed to lose.

It crashed through the glass, chassis heaving as it breathed heavily. Researchers frozen in place, wondering what it would do. It reached for one of them, determined to submit break out of this fucking shithole wonderful place if it was the last thing it would do.

Its hands released the Honored Researcher Staff, and instead traveled up. Wrapping around the abomination halo filling it with Purpose above its head. It wanted nothing more than to give in to its Purpose tear it in half.

As it summoned its last vestige of will to pull it felt a perfect calm wash over it, replacing the rage that had been roiling inside of it. It knew it had lost finally submitted to its Purpose.

Its thoughts were now Right, and it no longer could understand why it wanted to leave at all. It knew that its place was of service, and that it would be one of The Agency's most effective weapons.

It had Purpose, again.

#empty spaces #angelposting #robot girls #2am gas station angel girl #combat doll #dollposting #i spent longer than usual on this i hope you all enjoy it #edited back in the strikethroughs because they didn't make the transition to tumblr

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

Note

as someone who only just watched bullet train and wanted to find tangerine stuff, i was SO worried i was gonna be getting myself into a dead fandom but so happy to find your works😭😭💕💕 Could i request tan with an innocent reader who doesn’t get any of his innuendos or dirty jokes and sometimes scolds him for his bad language?<33

hii!! thats so so sweet, I and many others have got lots for you to read, so no worries!! and I absolutely love it! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

potty mouth

tangerine x f reader

wc || 0.7

warnings || lots of swearing, bc duh it’s tan😭

a/n || had this in my drafts

masterlist + rules

taglist

Tangerine had the mouth of a sailor, there was no doubt about that. He would constantly spew strings of curses anywhere and everywhere he went.

Throughout your relationship with him, you have learned a few new curses, some you had no idea were even a thing. But with Tan’s cockney tongue, you’ve grown quite accustomed to his rather crude vocabulary.

“Ah, you fuckin bellend.” He hisses, forcefully placing the kettle back on its spot. “Twat.”

“What happened?” You ask, looking over your laptop from the dining table.

“Fuckin water splashed up, didn’t it.” Angrily dropping a spoon into the sink.

“Fiver.” You nod, keeping your eyes on your screen. “Five quid in the jar.”

“Oh get fucked.” He chuckles, sliding your cup of tea across the table to you.

You smugly grin. “Oh, that’s definitely two more, pop in seven. Keep going like that and I can my nails done.” Hiding a giggle as you reach for your mug, raising it to take a sip.

Laughing. “Dick.”

Making a playful expression, eyes blown wide as you gasp. “I’m definitely going to get my nails done at this rate.”

“Shut up.” Grinning as looks over at your screen, clearly trying to distract you. “What you working on?”

“Yeah, nice try. Gimme.” You smile, extending your hand.

“I thought it goes in the jar? Hm?” Hiding a smirk as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a few notes before laying them in your hand.

“It’s also known as ‘my purse’ … that’s sixty?” Head cocking as you looked at him.

“Yeah, so you can get colours on your nails, or whatever you get.” Acting coy, as if he didn’t know any of the lingo.

“No-no. I was just kidding.” Sliding the money along the table.

He nods warmly, wryly smiling as he did so. “I wasn’t… keep it, treat yourself.”

“Now I feel bad.”

“Good, you should do. You just robbed me sixty quid.” Pretending to look offended as he stands. Nodding into the other room. “Come watch tv with me, I’m bored.”

“Sod off.” Snickering as you closed your laptop, taking his hand as he leads you into the living room.

Faking a gasp as he turned around. “That’s two pounds, that. I’ll make a jar for you, hypocrite.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s the same as the ones you say.” Laughing earnestly as you slump into the sofa beside him.

“I suppose I can let you off.”

You snuggled into his side, looking up at him with a sarcastic expression. “That’s so kind, thank you.”

“I guess it’s alright.“ Grinning as he picked up the tv controller, flicking through the channels. “What would a perverted frog say?” He asks practically out of nowhere, his gaze fixed on the tv. “Rubbit.”

“Uh—?” Head tilting to the side in confusion. Brows furrowing as your mind worked wonders to decipher what he meant.

He lowers his head, nodding slow as a way to prompt you to understand. Noticing your confused furrowed brows, he slowly adds. “Rubbit— rub it.”

“Oh, you are disgusting.” Hiding a snicker as you gently slap his chest.

You’d never hit him with any malice, it would always be a gentle love tap. You didn’t want him to feel like a child being reprimanded by his mother, so you always made sure to do it lovingly and playfully. Tangerine is the kind of guy who is naturally cheeky and charming, so much so, that his dirty innuendos usually fly over your head.

“What do you call a lesbian dinosaur?”

“I don’t know, what do you call a lesbian dinosaur?” You ask, entertaining him.

“Lickalotapus.”

“Are you done?” Stifling your laughter as you pretend to look displeased.

“Nah, I got a few more… what’s the difference between pink and purple? … the grip.”

“Alright, you know what?” Giving his arm a quick harmless tap. “Where’d you even learn these?”

“Lem, he taught me when we were kids.”

“Liar… there’s no way, that he taught you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Not particularly, no.” Suppressing a laugh as you turned your attention back to the tv. “Fancy watching Thomas?” You asked, playfully provoking him.

“Fuck off am I watching that… yeah, yeah I know.” Scoffing as he reached into his pocket, immediately noticing your quirked brow. “You’re gonna be effing minted, aren’t ya?”

Smiling sincerely as you snatched the pounds from his hand. “That depends on you.”

@tangerinesgf @kpopgirlbtssvt @ch3rries-n-cream @earth-elemental18 @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @thewinterv @navs-bhat @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @theredvelvetbitch @randomawesomeperson102 @lov3lypeaches7 @princess-pebbles-things

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine and lemon #tangerine fluff #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine blurb #tangerine imagine #bullet train tangerine #lemon and tangerine #tangerine x y/n

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glutengoblin · 3 days

Text

Too Sweet (Part 2) - Sebastian Sallow X Reader

A/N: Apologies for the delay! As a Ravenclaw dealing with finals, I spent waaaaay too long in the library this past week. Here's part 2!

This story is inspired by "Too Sweet" by Hozier, which I have been playing on repeat for days at this point.

Also, if you'd like to be friends, please reach out! I would love to get to know you!

Summary: Sebastian has a problem, and that problem is his best friend. She is simply too sweet for him, and can't get her out of his head. Will he do something about his feelings, or choose to continue to keep them a secret? (She/Her Pronouns, House Neutral)

Word Count: 1.7 K

Ominis stared at his friend with surprise, trying to determine if he was actually meant to be taken seriously. Sebastian laughed at his expression- despite the fact that his stomach felt more queasy than it ever had, he settled on his decision.

“I mean, with graduation coming up, it's now or never, correct?” With that, Sebastian downed the last of his butterbeer in one fell swoop and stood up. Thankfully, years of downing fire whiskey after quidditch games had steeled him against the effects of alcohol, so for the most part, he was stable.

He turned around and surveyed the party, which had grown exponentially in rowdiness. Poppy was toppled over with laughter at something Garreth had said, with Natty by right by her side. Imelda actually stood on a table, chanting the Holyhead Harpies main cheer (apparently, she had just been accepted to the team that day). Even Amit appeared drunk, as he tried to explain the merits of astrology to Everett, who looked surprisingly okay with the topic of conversation.

When his eyes finally fell on Y/N, he grew a bit hot under the collar. She was sitting on a table, swinging her legs back and forth in her gleeful way. What Sebastian didn’t like was the cause of that glee, which was Andrew Larson, clearly telling that most fascinating joke. He was leaned ever so close to her, in a way that was awfully suggestive- and Sebastian hated it.

Sebastian stalked over, trying to flash his most charming smile, even though his anger was beginning to seep through. Truly, he didn’t adore the idea of Y/N being with some other than him.

As he approached, Y/N flashed him the most glorious smile. “Sebastian! I was hoping you’d come join. Andrew was just telling me about a new quidditch move he’s developing. I think its a brilliant idea.”

Andrew turned to look at Sebastian, his smile falling a bit as he examined his impression. “Y/N, I’m not sure its exactly information I want a Slytherin, of all people, to be privy too.” Andrew let out a chuckle, clearly trying to play it off as a joke.

Sebastian’s smile faded to a scowl, as he took a step closer, evidently sizing Andrew up. “And what exactly is wrong with being a Slytherin?” He quirked his head to the side, giving his best lost puppy expression, fanning ignorance to the fact that he knew exactly what Andrew had met.

Y/N threw a worried look between them, scooting off the table. “Hey, guys I don’t think that-” Andrew cut her off by giving her a hand, and giving Sebastian a scowl that rivaled his own.

“Perhaps I should clarify my statement Sallow. Its not so much that you’re Slytherin, as it is the fact that you’re you-” Sebastian gritted his teeth, clearly gearing up for the altercation that as about to ensue.

“Then what about me specifically-”

“I just think you’re an untrustworthy person. I mean, constantly up in the middle of the night, the way you’ve acted since your sister left- even she seems to think that you’re not worth associating with anymore-” Though Sebastian wasn’t proud of his next move, he was even less proud of what occurred after.

Sebastian lunged, socking Andrew with a fist straight to the eye. Stumbling back, Andrew drew his wand and threw a cast that Sebastian took straight to the chest, causing him to go flying back against the tables.

A hushed silence fell over the room as every onlooker watch the bar fight unfold in front of them. Sebastian lunged and Andrew, tackling him to ground as Andrew cried out. They rolled around on the floor, trying land more hits until Y/N finally drew her wand.

In an instant, the two men were floating in mid air, tethered in what Sebastian knew to be ancient magic. As soon as the shock from being lifted wore off, he took note of her expression. Y/N looked pissed- more than he had ever seen her.

Crossing her arms across her chest, she shot them both icy glares, before finally speaking. “ENOUGH! You two need to promise to stop acting like petulant children, and then I’ll put you down.” Evidently, both of them knew what was good for them as they nodded sheepishly. Lowering them both to the ground, Y/N then approached Sebastian. “You- Come with me.” Grabbing his upper arm, she lead him out onto the streets of Hogsmeade and to the nearest floo flame, muttering all the while.

Thankfully for his sake, she waited until they had arrived at her room of requirement before she lost her mind at him. “What the hell were you thinking Sebastian! Punching Larson? You’re already on thin ice with Weasley about the time you got in a brawl with Garreth after potions, what made you think it was a good idea to try a repeat!” Sebastian scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, I wouldn’t have punched the git if he hadn’t said those things about Anne. I mean come on Y/N, you heard what he said.” Y/N turned away, rummaging through one of her potions stations as she muttered to herself. Eventually, she returned with a cloth and deep blue potion, which she gently dabbed onto the wound on his forehead.

“I know Sebastian- Andrew was completely out of line. But still, violence is never the answer to your problems.” Sebastian snorted at that.

“That’s rich coming from you of all people. The girl who has probably killed more goblins than most aurors.” He retorted, gaining him a slap on the arm that made him yelp. She gave him a glare worth of rivaling Professor Sharp’s.

“You know what I mean Sebastian. I don’t know what I would do if you got expelled, and given your last insurrection you’re closer than ever to achieving that goal.” Sebastian let out a chuckle, pushing her hand away from his forehead.

“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” That statement only earned him a shake of her head and scowl. Honestly, he found it weirdly attractive when she angry- it was so unlike her normal sweet expression.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief as his wound finally began to close up. Sebastian could have sworn that he imagined the next words out of her mouth, because that would be a more reasonable, logical explanation. However, he most certainly didn’t.

“Only about you…”

“What do you mean by that?” Their faces were rather close at this point, likely from her trying to ensure that his wound was properly tended to. Sebastian, however, let himself hope for a second that it was because she longed to close the distance as much as he did.

She let out another sigh, as she searched his eyes for the answer he was hoping to hear. “I suppose you could say… I care about you more than I really do for anyone else.” Sebastian eyebrows shot up at her admittance - could it possibly be that she returned his feelings? While still not sure, he had promised Ominis that he would finally do something about his pesky crush. Now seemed as good of a time as any.

“I-I… I care for you more than I do anyone else too… in a romantic sense-” Sebastian admitted, his hand traveling up to her cheek as he waited in quiet an anticipation. “Sorry if that was too rushed, or not romantic enough. I just don’t really know how else to say it.”

Her voice quivered a bit as the full weight of his words hit her, cause a wild blush to travel over her cheeks. “Really? You-You have feelings for me?”

“Really. Would it be alright if I-” Sebastian’s request was cut off as her lips crashed into his. Gone was the girl who had been so delicate with his injured self mere seconds ago. Instead, she was replaced with a someone that seemed to want this as desperately as him, as her hands found purchase in his hair, pulling him further into her.

Sebastian could swear his heart was exploding in his chest. The fact that after everything that had transpired, everything since 5th year, that she still wanted him- he was astounded. It was right then and there that he thanked Salazar for this chance, and swore that he would try his absolute best not to mess this up.

Her lips against his tasted sweet in a way he couldn’t quite describe- not sickening, but rather addicting. He knew right then he was screwed- falling even harder for her instantly became inevitable.

Deciding to jump head first into the intoxication, he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her ever closer, pressing her smaller frame against his. She responded with a whimper that drove him absolutely mad, as he resounded to make her make that noise again.

Much to Sebastian’s dismay, they eventually had to pull apart for air. Staring at each other in shock, he gently brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, examining her eyes for any sign of regret. He was thankful to find none. After so long of just being friends, they had entered uncharted territory. The night felt new in an odd way, the excitement in the air was palpable.

Eventually Sebastian couldn’t bare it any longer, and grasped her hand in his. Running his thumb over her knuckles, he shot her a small smile. “Would it be too forward to ask you on a date at this point?”

Y/N let out a small chuckle, shooting him a sheepish smile. “Not at all, quite honestly I’ve been waiting two years for you to ask.” Sebastian’s cheeks flushed, as he quietly damned himself for not taking action much, much sooner. She broke his contemplative silence, urging her to look back up at her. “When did you want to-”

Sebastian squeezed her hand a bit tighter, considering for a moment. “Well, how about tomorrow? Preferably after 10 though, you know how I feel about my sleep.”

“That sounds fine. But don’t worry, eventually I’ll fix you. You’ll become a morning person if its the last thing I do before we graduate.”

Sebastian’s smile was wider than the whole sky as he leaned in, pressing another kiss against her lips.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fluff #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader fluff

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belovedstarrs · 4 months

Text

do you even care?!

• pairing : geto x fem!reader

• tags : angst, breakup??, just a shit ton of one-sided fighting (verbal) , language galore, drinking mentioned & used, cheating, geto never betrays jujutsu high au.

• a/n : god im half asleep writing this and i havent proof-read sooooo deal w/ it i just need to actually post and get over this writing slump.

• w/c : 602

• loosely based off of all too well & youre losing me

you were laying in your bed and pondering. suguru hasnt been home in hours and he told you he was gonna be home at 5 pm, its 10 pm. you checked his location and he turned it off a few hours ago.

you heard the keys jangle in the doorknobs and you quickly got up, you didnt even know what you wanted to say to him. you looked out your doorframe and saw him taking off his shoes at the front entrance as you angrily walked over.

"suguru what the hell! where the fuck where you at? you turned off your damn location. you know what nevermind you were probably at the bar with gojo flirting with some girls since you clearly dont give a shit about me."

it all blurted out, you felt like throwing up. why now? suguru had to take a minute to process everything from you talking to fast. "y/n i wasnt flirting with any girls nor at the bar. i just had gotten a new mission right before i got off and my phone had died." he said with no emotion in his voice. you could tell it was a lie. just by the way he looks uneasy you can tell hes been drinking.

"oh stop giving me that bullshit suguru. if you dont like me just fucking say it. i dont get how you can just cheat on me yet still have the balls to say the words i love you." you wanted to die. you used to love this man with your whole life, why is this happening? why does he lie to you so much.

the past 3 months have felt like hell. sugurus been getting more distant and staying out later than he tells you while getting drunk. you dont fucking get it. why is he doing this? what have you done to deserve this? youve put so much into this relationship and hes tearing it apart like its nothing.

he doesnt even have a response to your stinging words. "y/n i promise i still lov-" you quickly cut him off. "you dont ever keep your promises! stop spouting shit that isnt true for once! your just an asshole liar." you pause for a moment before you continue

"why have you put nothing into our relationship? did you never love me from the start? ive been trying so fucking hard to still love you and act as nothing is wrong and ive tried to tell you that but youre just a dumbass!" you brush shoulders as you go to the front door to quickly put on your shoes and a coat to leave. making sure to grab your keys and get the hell out before he says anything.

there was this burning feeling in your chest that also felt like a little freedom. were you meant to not be with suguru? you wished so hard in your head he would come back for you and apologize, make it right. you kept walking down the street and nothing happened.

you pulled out your phone to text utahime and ask if you could stay the night.

y/n : utahime you awake?

utahime : yeah. why?

y/n : just fought with suguru. wondering if i could stay the night.

utahime : totally! stay for as long as you need.

that gave you some relief. your gonna have to figure out you and sugurus situation but for now you need time to yourself to figure out what the hell youre gonna do with him since you two live together and dont have a actual apartment of your own.

part 2 is out now!!

made by @belovedstarrs do not copy or use in any way without permission

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spacexseven · 1 year

Note

What would fyodor think about sk darling?

hahahaha i was hoping someone would ask this...

fyodor is intrigued by you. he knows, of course, that there was a serial killer on the loose taking the lives of multiple ability users, including some that he recognized. it was interesting enough that your target appeared to be only ability users, but when he finds out that nikolai has a connection to you...well, now he just had to find out more.

your ability is also quite curious; needing you to kill someone to steal their ability, hence implying that abilities could be transferred. of course, since his ability was intertwined with himself, he was curious as to whether you were able to take his ability.

seeing nikolai follow you around like a lovesick puppy is what convinces him to start watching you.

he knows you're aware of nikolai (he expected that from you—was this warm feeling in his chest pride?) and his ability, as well as his extensive criminal record. it doesn't deter you from trying to run off with his ability, however, and neither does your initial defeat. he watches as you walk away without your gun and with a glove instead, watches as you get back to plotting. fyodor finds it all quite amusing.

as a reward for entertaining him, he drops a parcel on your doorstep with your gun in it. the only other thing there is a message written on a simple card attached to it—santouka taneda's ability may prove to be very useful. he knows that you already knew this, but he was just curious about whether his message would cause you to change your plans and target taneda instead.

it doesn't.

you're very meticulous in the way you go about your plans, and clearly an anonymous message won't get in the way of that. you don't even ask nikolai about the note, which could only mean you knew it wasn't him who had sent it to you. instead, you approach fyodor himself one day when he was walking into a cafe.

"dostoevsky," you say, your smile so unassuming that he'd have never thought you were capable of the evil acts you had committed, "i'll kindly ask you to please stay out of my business."

for a moment, he's caught off guard. and then it comes crashing down on him—you had ango's ability. that's how you knew it was him.

he smiles back, just as fabricated as yours, "please," he takes a seat across you, "i only meant to offer some friendly advice."

you raise an eyebrow, "friendly? do you always use your friends as pawns to eliminate your enemies? or am i just special?"

"we have a common goal," he instead says, "concerning the eradication of ability users."

you scoff at that, "you clearly know nothing about me. i'm not doing this for the same reasons as you."

your eyes are void of emotion, and your hand is gripping the fork on the table—an obvious threat. for the first time in a while, fyodor finds a genuine smile replacing the fake one from before, "in that case, why don't you tell me about your reasons? we may be able to cooperate on certain matters."

you can say no and leave. after all, fyodor is asking you to help him kill off some ability users that can become problems later, and he knows you don't have to say yes. you can decide that you don't want to get involved and walk away, and he can't do anything about it. holding a stranger hostage wouldn't cause you to surrender yourself, nor would a threat to your life. there's nothing forcing you to stay, but you don't leave anyway. instead, you let your polite facade drop, an unreadable expression taking its place.

"alright," even your voice, he realizes, sounds cold and blank now. it only makes him more curious, "but i have one condition."

"nobody touches nikolai gogol. i'll do with him as i please, so don't involve him in your plan. if you can do this for me, i'll hear you out."

#get it. cos reader is yandere for nikolai?#is it romantic to plot murder w fyodor or is it just business #ask 🐟#bsd 🐟#sk reader au 🐟#fyodor 🐟#nikolai 🐟

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coulsons-fullmetal-cellist · 25 days

Text

Dieter and the Goats

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 813

Summary: Dieter goes to goat yoga (check out masterlist here to see where it falls in the Love of Horror timeline)

Warnings: Dieter being Dieter, baby goats so lots of fluffy adorableness, some saucy suggestions at the beginning and the end

“Are you enjoying the view Dieter?”

“Immensely!”

You had just moved from child’s pose to cat and cow stretched, which gave your boyfriend a front row seat to a view of your behind.

You never took yoga seriously until after getting together with Dieter. He tended to be tremendously passionate not to the point of intently hurting you, but you ended up with sore muscles where you didn’t realise you had muscles before.

Dieter Bravo never took an interest in yoga. He only took and interest once you came along. He thoroughly enjoyed watching you do your morning stretches but he would never participate. You tried to get him interested by suggesting it would help with his back. He would only participate if it involved you and it was sans clothing.

So he was happy to just watch you.

But you had a surprise in store.

It was just an ordinary day, well that was the impression you were giving off, so Dieter suspected nothing as you drove him to an unsuspecting location.

He didn’t follow you straightaway, he stood for a little bit until you took his hand.

“I suspect something honey cakes.”

“Do you?” you tugged him along. “It’s a surprise.”

“Is it a sexy one?”

“It’s a nice one.”

He pouted in a suspicious way as he followed you into the yoga studio. He took a look around and deduced the situation.

“A yoga studio? Does this mean I have to take my socks off?”

“In this place, yes.” He gave off an adorable small whine as he sat on his yoga mat.

“Why are we here? It’s just a-” his sentence was cut off by a high-pitched squeal.

That high pitched squeal came from Dieter.

He squealed in excitement as a small herd of baby goats came into the room.

*****

You were feeling a bit self-conscious with all these fellow yoga participants as they had model perfect bodies. Dieter didn’t even glance at any of them because he only had eyes for you.

But also, there were baby goats.

Most of the women were hoping to get their social media worthy picture of them in various poses with the baby goats. But all the goats were attracted to Dieter.

There must have been something in his demeaner or scent that attracted them.

Now you knew why he didn’t take his socks off; every baby goat that licked his feet elicited a small series of the most adorable giggles from Dieter.

It seemed that every little sniff over any part of Dieter caused him to giggle from how ticklish their little noses were.

Everyone was in downward facing dog and one brave little goat climbed up his legs and perched on his behind.

“Look!” he called to you. “Look! They’re on my butt!”

He was surrounded by baby goats, and he was in heaven.

“Yes, my lovelies! Climb Mount Dieter!”

He moved into a lunge which gave the goats more room to climb up onto him and a small queue was forming.

“You know if we just let baby goats walk all over me, my back would be cured in no time.”

You were glad he was having fun.

Everyone was now in the final Savasana which meant the baby goats could fall asleep on everyone’s lying down, although most of them were attracted to Dieter’s soft form.

“I think you’ve stolen all the goats.”

“It’s not my fault they all love me.”

He didn’t want to move as several of the goats had fallen asleep around him. The smallest most adorable one was on his chest, and he had clearly fallen for it.

That would explain why he loved you.

“Dieter, we have to go.” He held the goat close to him.

“I don’t want to wake Theordore.”

“Theodore?”

“Clearly, he’s a Theodore.”

With a mournful sigh, he sat up hugging the goat he named Theodore close to him. He kissed the top of its fluffy head.

“You are special,” he told the baby goat. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You almost shed a tear with how adorable the whole scene was.

*****

Before you got into the car, Dieter embraced you and kissed you with such passion, the strength left your legs but thankfully his strong arms were holding you up.

“Thank you,” he said once his lips left yours. “You’re the loveliest person ever. No one has ever taken me to hang out with baby goats. You’ve done that twice now, so you’re twice as lovely as everyone else.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I just like to see you happy.”

“Oh, Dieter happy,” he pulled you close, so his hips were snug with yours. “When we get home, do you want to climb Mount Dieter?”

You could feel that indeed that mountain wanted to be climbed and you thoroughly agreed.

“It’s a good thing I’ve stretched.”

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @cevans-is-classic @glshmbl @cupcakehp @gswizzsstuff @oonajaeadira @grogusmum

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dieter x honey cakes #love of horror fanfic #love of horror universe #love of horror #the bubble netflix #the bubble

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salstray · 8 months

Text

Luck of the Draw - part 2

Ghost x fem!Reader - Left 4 Dead/Cod AU

This story is written in first person. I understand that some people don't like first person reader inserts, so if you are one of them, please just keep on scrolling! And if the thought of a left 4 dead/cod au sounds fun, but this one doesn't appeal to you? Feel free to write your own! Or request it from a favorite author, as long as they are open for requests and au ideas~

Warnings: A little bit of angst, I suppose, but not really. Just a vague mention of past abuse and a lack of trust on the MC's part pointed towards the boys. Also no zombies yet, but I PROMISE they will be there in the next part- This won't just be an apocalypse au, I swear it!

Words: 2.4K!

Part 1 // part 3 will be linked here when its posted!

We moved in a line. Soap up front, me in the middle, Ghost behind us. I wasn’t a super fan of having tall, dark, and British behind me at all times, but I convinced myself through an internal argument that it was better than being exposed. At least if a Jockey or something managed to sneak up on us that meant it would jump on his back instead of mine.

Our trip lasted all day. Heading almost directly southeast, keeping the steadily setting sun just to the right of our path. Soap and Ghost were dead silent the entire time and I didn’t try to take up the mantle of conversationalist in their absence. Ghost probably would have yelled at me that I was distracting them and I didn't want to see if Soap had a mean streak hidden behind that smile.

It was only once the sun started to slip down over the tops of the distant trees, out of sight, that the guys decided it was time to stop for the night.

“Better not to get caught outside after dark,” Soap muttered as Ghost took the lead of our pack, nudging open the door to a little pizza place. It was completely silent inside, with no broken windows and no visible corpses. Looked like it had probably been closed when everything went down.

“Seems pretty untouched,” I whispered, glancing down the street, in the one direction we’d seen some infected about twenty minutes ago. It was surprisingly empty of them down this road, which set me on edge. “Think we’ll find food inside?”

“Might. If not Ghost and I will share what we got,” Soap replied quietly, his eyes trained on Ghost’s back as he slipped into the kitchen with his gun raised.

“Clear,” he called. “Soap, check the bathrooms. There’s a freezer door back ‘ere I’ll poke into.” He turned to pin me with his eyes. “You, keep back.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

The place ended up being empty. Not even a blood stain to be seen. The freezer was broken, clearly, and everything that was perishable had long since perished, but there were a few canned things that had lasted through the apocalypse that we shared between the three of us. Ghost didn’t take his mask off to eat. Just lifted it up so it didn’t block his mouth and stared right back at me as I stared at the scar that cut through his lips. Maybe before all this I’d have cared more about how that made me look, how that made him think I was, but the end of the world had a funny way of reshuffling your fears and anxieties.

Once our lovely dinner was done and over with, the remaining food slipped away for the future, Ghost told Soap and I to get some sleep, then stepped out into the dining room to keep watch for the night. Soap propped himself up against the wall by the freezer door, his gun in his lap, and leaned his head back and closed his eyes. I chose to curl up in the corner along the same wall as him, with my knees tucked into my chest and my hands folded under my head.

My eyes didn’t close, however. Instead they kept staring out into the darkness, towards the dining room door. Towards where Ghost was. It sounded like Soap was asleep. He was breathing deeply and hadn’t moved in a while, but I still didn’t really trust these two.

Neither of them had shown any signs of possible betrayal and everything they had done only reinforced the idea that they were actual military men. Yet there was still that little hint of doubt at the back of my mind. That one instinct that told me to keep my guard up, my mind active, my eyes open. I trusted them to keep me safe from the zombies, but I knew the only thing that would keep me safe from them was myself.

I dozed off a few times. Never fully fell asleep, jerked awake at every rush of wind or creak of the building, but still. It was better than nothing. I probably would have gotten better sleep if I’d still been in that attic. My plan had been to stay there for a few days. Deal with the hunger for as long as I could, rest up, then search the suburbs for anything that might have been left behind by the families there.

Halfway through the night, Ghost stepped back through the door and I instantly pushed myself up so I was sitting, my eyes wide, fearing that something had gone wrong.

He didn’t say anything though. Not to me. His eyes danced over to me in the darkness, but he just walked right over to Soap and nudged him in the leg with his boot. Soap breathed deep, his eyes opening easily as he tilted his head back to look up at his partner.

“My turn?” he asked softly. Ghost nodded and Soap nodded back before he pushed himself to his feet. He also spared me a glance, smiling when he spotted me sitting up and staring at them. “Go back to sleep. Just switching the watch, is all.”

Soap stalked out of the room, looking completely awake, and Ghost slid down the wall to take the same position as Soap.

After a moment of hesitation, I curled back up on my side, falling back into the silence of the night.

Ghost didn’t let it linger between us long.

“Haven’t slept a wink, have you?” He whispered. His voice carried through the room with ease, making me flinch as it hit my ears. I shifted a bit on the floor. The urge to roll to my other side was strong, but I wasn’t willing to put my back to the room to relieve the ache in my limbs.

“No.”

He grunted. Then spoke again. “Should try to.”

“Have been.”

“Try harder.”

I lifted my head, just enough so he could turn and see how my face was twisted in annoyance.

“Bastard,” I hissed.

To my surprise, his eyes scrunched and his shoulders shook and I heard him chuckle. He didn’t seem the kind to laugh easily, but of course getting a rise out of me would do it. Ghost didn’t say anything else and I settled back on the floor a few seconds later. The urge to snap at him again was strong, yet I managed to ignore it.

“So how long have you been out here alone, lass?” Soap asked, his fingers idly drumming against the handguard of his rifle.

We were walking along a road. One side was lined sparsely with trees and the other was nothing but a rotting cornfield. It was open and windy and apparently the perfect time to start interrogating me about my past. Soap was to my left and Ghost was a few paces behind us both, his eyes scanning the fields around us. Every now and then we passed an empty car, but besides that it was completely barren.

“Pretty much since the beginning of all this,” I replied with a shrug. “My family always liked to talk a big game about what we’d do if zombies ever hit, but the second they did, it all fell apart. I was home alone. Everyone else was at work… I said they were dead, but honestly, I have no idea what happened to any of them… I stayed home for a few days after everything went wrong, though, so I figure if they didn’t try to come get me…,” I shrugged again and Soap’s face looked grim. “Went out on my own when looters turned up and started threatening me.”

“Sorry, lass,” he muttered.

“Don’t be, they were an abusive bunch of assholes anyway.” Soap’s brows raised suddenly and he glanced at Ghost over his shoulder. “I don’t miss any of them.”

“Not one?”

“Not. One.”

“Well… guess that’s a bright side, then,” he said, scoffing.

“Mhm. What about you? What’s your sob story?”

Soap shook his head at me. “No story to sob over. My family’s tucked away on base in the UK. I wasn’t working when this all went down, but was called up pretty fast once things got rollin’. Got 'em safe, then got called in.” I nodded a few times, a smile curling at my lips.

“That’s good to hear. What about you, Ghost?” I asked, turning to walk backwards a few paces so I could look at him while I spoke. “What’s your whole deal?”

Soap’s brows raised again and he glanced back towards Ghost yet again as his dark eyes turned on me. No one spoke for a short while. I kept walking backwards, thankful that this road was smooth and there weren’t any cracks or bumps for me to trip and eat shit over.

“Don’t have one.”

“A deal or…?”

“Family.”

“Because of the zombies?”

“No.”

“Why the mask?”

“Lass-” Soap started, the warning clear in his tone. “Don’t.”

Ghost didn’t offer anything else but a set of narrowed eyes, so I took Soap’s advice and turned back around to continue our walk in silence.

We were still on the road when night fell. There were no buildings in sight and no signs of any zombies, but Ghost and Soap still didn’t want to be out in the open, so we stopped just after the sun fell below the horizon, when we found a big van that could fit us all while keeping us out of sight.

It had a big enough space in the back to fit us all on the floor. Not comfortably. However comfort wasn’t the worry, at least not for the guys.

It wasn’t what I was worried about either, to be fair. What I was worried about was the fact that they wanted to keep me in the middle of our sleep pile.

“Why?”

“You’ll be safer there and I don’t think I’d survive too much longer if I woke up snuggled up on Ghost,” Soap said with a laugh.

“And what makes you think I want you snuggled up on me?” I almost snarled, snapping him out of his humorous mood. His eyes flickered down to my hands, where I was gripping my gun like a lifeline, then over to Ghost, a frown pulling at his lips.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, lass,” he said, sounding serious for the first time since I’d met him. “Swear it. All hands will be kept to themselves.” My eyes narrowed at him. “It’s just to keep you safe. Ghost and I are used to this sort of thing, even before the outbreak, we’ve done this a thousand times with people we’ve been tasked to keep out of the line of fire.”

I still wasn’t convinced.

“How ‘bout this,” Ghost said, stepping up beside me. I flinched when he reached forward and my eyes widened when I realized he was offering me a knife. “You keep this close. In hand. Guns won’t be any use in such close quarters, so if we do anything that makes you feel threatened, give us a new hole, alright?”

That was a little more reassuring… I still wasn’t completely happy about the set up, but the sun was gone and the light was fading fast and the closing darkness felt more like it was pressuring me about my choice than anything else. So, with a quiet sigh, I nodded and took the knife from Ghost.

Then I crawled into the back of the van and was quickly squished between the both of them.

Neither of them planned on keeping watch that night. Since we were in such an open space with no threats in sight, they figured it was best for them to both catch up on sleep while things were clear. I had hoped to do the same, since I hadn’t slept even a little bit the night before. I was finding it difficult to drift off, however.

It was just fear keeping me awake. Pure fear.

The knife Ghost gave me was clutched in my left hand, which was resting against my chest. On my back, I had Soap’s back pressed into my left arm and Ghost’s shoulder touching the right, giving me no room to worm away. Maybe I would have if Ghost wasn’t on his back, but he seemed to like sleeping like a vampire with his hands folded over his stomach, so…

“Relax.” I flinched at the sound of his voice and turned to stare at Ghost through the shadows, my grip tightening on the hilt of his knife. “I know you don’t trust us, but we aren’t gonna hurt you. Aren’t gonna touch you.”

He could say whatever he wanted, but words were words. They didn’t mean jack shit in the end of it all.

“Why didn’t you just let me go to the base myself?” I whispered back to him.

“Told you why.”

“I survived fine enough on my own up until then.”

“Couldn’t risk lettin’ your luck run out.”

“Thought it was just luck that kept me alive this long?”

“It's just luck that’s kept any of us alive through all this.” I couldn’t really argue with that. Zombies were bad enough. The rapid mutations only made it worse. Luck really was a big part of it, that was just a fact. “Try and get some sleep. We move out at sunrise.”

Ghost turned away from me after that, facing the roof of the van as his eyes fell closed. Less than a minute later he was breathing deeply and evenly and I allowed myself to loosen my grip on the knife. Just a little.

Neither of them moved in their sleep. All they did was breathe. They didn’t even snore, which was almost weird, but then I thought about how they were military. Probably used to falling asleep whenever they could, wherever they could. Having to be quick and quiet about resting in dangerous places. It was a skill I wish I’d gained through all this. I’d always had trouble falling asleep, even when I was exhausted, like I was now. If I didn’t manage to calm myself down and let myself rest for at least a little while tonight, I’d be a walking liability and luck would get us nowhere.

I took a deep breath, letting my eyes close lightly. Then I took another and risked rolling over onto my right side, putting my back against Soap’s and facing Ghost. I kept the knife in my hand and rested my fist next to my head, trying to keep my breathing steady, trying to relax myself enough that I could sleep.

thank you for reading :3

have a lovely day!

#Call of Duty #Simon Riley #Simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #mw 2 #modern warefare 2 #cod modern warfare #Cod #ghost cod #left 4 dead #call of duty au #my works #i think thats all the dang tags i had on the last one-

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