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shadowdaddies · 5 months

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Hi!! I adore your writing! I would love if you wrote a story with Azriel, where reader (mated with Az ) hears the IC talking about someone being clingy/annoying, and she thinks it’s her, so she withdraws herself entirely, even from Az and he finally finds out and explains they were talking about someone else, and then fluff. Love you!

hi! thank you for the request, love you!💜 (Madja stans if you're out there, maybe avoid this one)

Family

Azriel x Reader (ft. the IC and Valkyries)

You had only been mated to Azriel for about six months now, but the way that the Inner Circle had accepted you as part of the family immediately meant the world to you. You had struggled much of your life with friends and family making you feel like you were clingy, or a burden when you spent ‘too much’ time with them, so being able to be around your new family in Velaris was a breath of fresh air, lifting a weight off your chest for the first time in years.

Skipping down the stairs to join your family for dinner, you heard them from where they were already seated at the table. You froze in your tracks when you heard the words spill from Feyre’s mouth. “I know, she can be quite overbearing. It was tiresome when I had to see her so much before. I’m glad I’ve had a break from her visits, at least for the time being.”

Tears sprang to your eyes as everyone around the table laughed at the comment, Nesta adding to the insult. “Well, I have no way of avoiding her, at least for now.” It felt as though your heart was caving in, completely crushed by Nesta’s words in particular. You had enjoyed starting training with the Valkyries lately, and you thought of the other females as your friends.

Unable to hear anymore of their jokes, you covered your ears, running back upstairs to your room and locking the door behind you. Not a moment later, Azriel knocked on the door. “My love, is everything alright?”

Sniffling through your silent cries, you refused to be any more of a burden than you apparently were. “I’m fine, Az. I’m just not feeling well, so I thought I would go to bed early.”

There was a long silence before you heard a soft sigh through the door. “Okay. I’ll bring you some leftovers. Please let me know if you need anything from me, angel.”

Once you knew Azriel was back downstairs, you let the tears out. Yet again, you were unwanted, and it hurt that much worse to know that your mate was sitting at that table as well. If he didn’t defend you, he must feel the same way. After crying out every tear you could produce, you found yourself exhausted, sleep claiming you quickly.

You awoke the next morning to a pounding on your door, a nervous Nesta on the other side. “Hey, are you in there? We missed you at training today. I had some things I was hoping to talk to you about.”

You scoffed internally at her claims, knowing exactly how untrue they were after her words last night. Managing to produce a fake cough, you responded in a weak voice. “I’m just not feeling well. I’m sleeping but maybe we can talk later.”

The sorrow was palpable in Nesta’s tone. “Okay then. I hope you feel better. Please let me know if I can do anything for you,” she said softly, before walking away.

Unable to be around these people any longer, you put on a coat and headed out for a walk along the Sidra, the fresh air helping to clear your spiraling thoughts. None of it made sense - they seemed so truly happy to spend time with you, so why would your family say those things?

Just as you started to question everything, shadows swirled in front of you, your mate appearing with concern clear in his hazel eyes. “Love, what is going on? First you skipped dinner last night, and now Nesta tells me you missed out on Valkyrie training as well. Talk to me.”

Filled with anger, you couldn’t push down your emotions any longer. “I heard you all talking at dinner last night, Azriel!”

Your mate staggered backwards, raw confusion written across his face. “Love, what are you talking about? What about dinner?”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at his attempt of evading the conversation, which earned you a rare seething glare from the shadowsinger. “I heard Feyre and Nesta, and all of you laughing. They were talking about how overbearing and tiresome I am, and how Nesta ‘has to spend time’ with me now. And you - you didn’t stand up for me, Azriel.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you watched his reaction to your words. The confusion, and the realization. Instead of apologizing, Azriel just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between scarred fingers. You were about to fly into another fit of rage when he spoke. “We weren’t talking about you. With Nesta’s new pregnancy, she is having to see Madja for check-ups often. Even though she has the hips to birth an Illyrian baby, Madja has been very concerned and it’s been driving Nesta crazy. Feyre was talking about the same, with her pregnancy with Nyx.”

Immediately, you were filled with shame over your assumptions. Burying your head in your hands, the self-loathing came rushing into you with a renewed force. “I’m so sorry, Az. I should’ve known better than to assume - I’m just so used to feeling like a burden and I thought...”

Azriel stepped forward, wrapping one arm around your waist as the other came to cup your chin, moving your hands away so that he could see your face. “I understand, my love. I know what you feel. But we are your family, and you are not a burden. You are so loved, and I need you to feel comfortable talking to me about these things.”

You nodded, a soft smile of relief gracing your features as you leaned forward to give Azriel a gentle kiss. He wrapped you in both of his arms, his warm embrace filling you with immediate calm. He pulled back, the smirk on his lips highlighting the dimples that you loved. “You should speak to Nesta.”

You nodded, knowing he was right, and the two of you walked back home hand in hand, enjoying the sunset over the Sidra. When you arrived home, Nesta was waiting in the kitchen, concern etched on her face as she noticed your still-puffy eyes. “Hey, Nes,” you said weakly, and Azriel gave a kiss to your temple before leaving the room.

Nesta stood up, walking over to you with a purpose as she wrapped you in a hug. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but I hope you know that I am here for you, if you ever want to talk.” You nodded, taking a deep breath as you hugged your friend. After a long moment, Nesta pulled back, a smile on her face. “I did need to talk to you about something this morning - if now is a good time.”

You eagerly nodded, encouraging her to continue as you took a seat next to her at the kitchen table. The beautiful female rested a hand on her stomach, absentmindedly rubbing where her baby rested as she spoke. “Madja wants me to rest from now through the rest of the pregnancy. The girls really love and respect you, so I was hoping that you could take over training them in the meantime.”

Your heart swelled at her kind words, the affirmation that you needed in that moment. Diving forward, you brought Nesta in for another hug as you nodded, tears lining your eyes yet again. “Yes, Nesta. I’d be so honored to help with training. Thank you.”

You pulled back, your friend taking your hand in hers as she gave it a reassuring squeeze, just as Rhys and Feyre walked in with Nyx. The little boy ran up to you, “Auntie! I missed you at dinner last night. Uncle Az said your tummy hurt. That happens to me, too.” You laughed at the sweet child, lifting him into your arms for a hug as you followed Rhys, Feyre, and Nesta into the dining room.

Taking your seat next to Azriel, Rhys poured the wine for everyone - Nesta raising her glass as she proposed a toast to you, one of the new leaders of the Valkyries and a great addition to the family. Leaning into Azriel’s side, you smiled as you looked around at your family - thankful for this unparalleled love, love so great, love that you deserved.

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karpingaround · 3 months

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you know where to find me, and I know where to look ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ !

- inspired by that TV girl song, ‘taking what’s not yours’ , its been on repeat latelyjdidh

A/N : fluff, not checked through sorry!, 1.1k words, no use of y/n!, mikey and y/n are childhood friends btw

Mikey x Reader

header taken from @ suhanihateslife on pinterest!

As the new member of the gang entered the shrine, you felt a sickening bile start to bubble in your stomach. At first everyone had been skeptic of him before eventually becoming infatuated. However, you couldn’t help but narrow your gaze at his cunning smirk.

Why did Mikey let this guy in?

His crooked smile and his right hand man were immediate alarm bells for you. Yet, no one seemed to find a problem with letting the enemy team rise up so high in the hierarchy of Toman.

Silently, you left the shrine, going unnoticed by most. Even when you felt a pair of eyes burning into the back of your head, you didn’t look back, getting on your bike and driving to the small place you called your own.

Kisaki Tetta was someone you had grown up with. You remember walking to and from school together, you remember eating bentos together, watching television after school in your apartment, you remember when he’d get picked on for being nerdy and you would intervene, you remember when the same would happen to you and he’d just stand and watch.

You remember when he had suddenly joined in out of the blue, calling you names to others, talking behind your back. And eventually, you remember the bullying driving you out of your middle school and to another across town.

You clenched your fists just thinking about it.

Your train of thoughts stopped as you parked your motorcycle outside of the quaint bakery, hidden away from the main shopping areas. As you opened its door, you were greeted with a small chime from the bells above, it was scarcely filled, just how you liked it.

With the few people that were in there, idle conversation was shared in the bakery as people ate late night treats. You came here quite often, to get a pack of dorayaki, and leave half for when a certain someone would show up, finding you after you disappear.

After ordering, you immediately slid into the booth you had claimed as yours over the years, slumping in the familiar cushion as a million emotions flooded your mind at once. The sound of the tray chattering broke you out of your short trance, sitting up straight as you greeted the lady who smiled at you generously.

You picked up the mug of hot chocolate she had made, blissfully smiling as you forgot your problems as the liquid luxury warmed your throat. Shortly after you placed the drink down, you tore the dorayaki in half. And when the chimes of the door sounded again, you already knew who it was, further confirming your thoughts when the padded shoes hit against the tiled floor.

You looked up silently as the blonde had stopped in his tracks.

He contagiously grinned at you, making you reciprocate a small smile, sipping on your drink.

“You left the meeting pretty early.” He commented, sitting himself across from you, taking his hands from his pockets and reaching for the leftover dessert.

“mhm,” You hummed, however the curious look Mikey gave you told you it wasn’t enough of an answer for him. Placing down the half finished drink, you took your half of dorayaki, feeling his eyes follow your every movement.

“I couldn’t stay there, I was in shock, and annoyed.” You ranted, taking a bite into the dorayaki, observing the small bakery that you already knew every nook and cranny of.

The blonde hummed, already finished with his half as you lost your appetite from thinking of Kisaki.

“He pisses me off Mikey, I hope you got him in for a good reason, he’s only trouble.” You placed the dorayaki back onto the plate, a single bite taken out of it. Without words, you slid the plate over, watching as Mikey’s black eyes lit up, gratefully taking the offer.

“I know he’s trouble, if you want me to get rid of him just tell me.” He looked at you seriously for a minute, and your eyes swirled in admiration and confusion.

“Then, why did you..?”

“It was a spontaneous decision, he brings more people to the gang and he’s also strong.”

You hummed contentedly, picking up your drink again, pondering about the situation.

“If it makes you feel any better, Takemitchy punched him hard in the face right after you left.” He commented, immediately brightening your mood.

“seriously?! I should’ve stayed!” You laughed, imagining the scrawny boy punching someone like Kisaki. You laughed even more as you imagined Kisaki getting humbled. As your laughter cooled down into a supple smile, you sighed, unable to stop the warmth reaching your cheeks.

“Takemichi-kun has good judgement.”

Mikey nodded at your words, finishing the food with ease. He wiped the crumbs onto the plate, immediately slotting his hands back in the solace of his pockets. You picked up your drink, finishing it off.

“He also asked me to get rid of Kisaki, he says he has bad intentions, so, that’s two.”

“he said that?” You questioned, putting down the empty mug. Mikey in turn, picked his up, happily gulping it down, making you laugh as he put the mug on the table as if it was a drinking game.

“Seems he knows more than we know.”

“Don’t you think sometimes he knows too much? Like that time with Draken.”

He nodded, “He seems to only have good intentions and ideals though, so I’ll trust him even if he’s acting suspiciously.”

“You’re too loyal Mikey.”

You stated, smiling amusing as he tilted his head like a puppy. “Says you, you’ve never stopped following me around.” He laughed, watching as you scoffed, before eventually laughing along with him.

“That’s ‘cause you’re a good person Mikey.” You kicked him lightly under the table, resting your head on your arms. He raised an eyebrow, making you giggle. Retaliating, he kicked back gently, grinning at you playfully.

“No, I think you didn’t listen when we first met.”

You furrowed your brows, stopping your kicking under the table as you urged him to elaborate.

“I told you to try not to fall in love with me when we were younger.”

Immediately, you sat up straight,

“And I never did!” you lied, putting both fists onto the table to exaggerate your words.

He laughed, eyes turning into crescents, cheeks going rosy from laughing.

Your cheeks got even brighter than before, face overwhelming with embarrassment as he called you out.

After you bitterly muttered under you breath, you joined in. Softly laughing, you basked in the moment.

You wanted things to stay like this for as long as possible.

A/N: theyre so fricking cute i love them sm 3):)/&:)@

this might become part of a series, so look out :o also why does y/n know abt takemichi?!?? they broke the fourth wall

#manjiro x reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers #manjiro sano #sano manjiro x reader #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #manjirou x reader #manjiro sano x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey sano #mikey manjiro sano

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gretavanlace · 1 year

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Poppins (part 4)

Josh kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, discussions of pregnancy, language, etc

“You’re not one of those ‘cilantro tastes like soap’ people, are you?” Josh asks, knife hovering over the herb mid chop, as if the possibility has only just occurred to him.

“No.” You smile from your perch on the counter. “I happen to have a very sophisticated palate, thank you very much.”

With a nod, he carries on and then sprinkles the tiny bits of green over the avocados he has already sliced into crescents.

Your fingers inch out to swipe a piece, only to be swatted away like a child reaching for an electrical outlet. “Lime first, sweetheart.” He shakes his head. “You’re worse than Lil.”

She’s long asleep, nestled in cozy sheets and little girl dreams.

Truth be told, had you the slightest idea of what was good for you, you’d be long gone, too. But when Josh fixed his hopeful eyes on yours and asked you to stay and join him for a late night snack, he’d won the fight before you’d even stepped into the ring.

Jake was gone again. Wandering on to his next gig, guitar case slung into the backseat of his car to keep his beat to hell and back bag company.

“They booked me for an entire week.” He’d bragged (only slightly humbly) “Place is fuckin’ history, too. Used to be a speakeasy during the prohibition.”

“Well, make sure to stay outta any leftover moonshine,” Josh had teased, yanking him in for a hug. “You can’t play for shit even when you’re sober.”

He focused his radar upon you then, embracing you warmly with a goodbye kiss soft on your neck and hidden from prying eyes by his hair. “See you soon, poppins. Don’t go getting any prettier on me, my poor heart couldn’t stand it.”

Is it normal to feel both elated and devastated to see someone go? Because that’s exactly how you felt. How you always feel when Jake saunters back out of your lives. He causes more trouble for you than you know what to do with, but you can’t claim he isn’t worth it.

So, with his vanishing twin off once more, you simply couldn’t refuse Josh’s offer. He leans towards pensive melancholy in the first few days without his brother.

He once described it as feeling homesick, and you’d marveled at the bond between them…wondered at the invisible string that seems to tie them together, always pulling them back to one another.

“Here, taste.” Josh speaks around the wedge of lime in his mouth and guides a forkful to your mouth, hand cupped beneath it to keep things tidy.

It’s delicious, and you tell him so, watching with rapt attention as he spears a piece of his own and pops the same fork into his own mouth. It’s only a stupid shared utensil, but it strikes you as incredibly intimate.

‘Where’d you get the recipe?”

“No recipe.” He shrugs, looking bashful under your praise, and then taps his temple, “This is where the magic happens.”

You reach forward and poke his blushing cheek softly “Impressive.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of a big deal. I pick my own clothes out, too. Every single morning. Tie my own shoes. The whole thing.”

A hush falls over the dimly lit kitchen as the two of you pick through the bowl, but it’s a comfortable quiet. Still, being the mayor of make-everything-my-business-town, you break it.

“When we were at your parents the other day, Jake and I were in your room and…”

“Yes, love.” He tilts his head and studies you as if looking for signs of a concussion. “I showed up to ruin the party, remember?”

God, you’re such an idiot!

“There was no party, Josh, come on.”

“Please.” He scoffs, slipping another bite into your mouth “You should’ve seen the look he gave me when he walked out. He might as well have pissed a circle around you to mark his territory.”

“Lovely.” You roll your eyes and savory the tang of lime on your tongue.

“What can I say? I’m a born romantic. Anyway, go on. You and Jake were in our room and…?”

“I asked about her.” You suddenly feel horribly intrusive. You never should have broached the subject.

He makes a small sound of acknowledgement and then sets the fork aside, giving you his full attention. “And?”

“And, I don’t know.” Your hands in your lap become your hyper-focus.

“Curious kitten, aren’t you?” There’s a grin in his tone and it eases you into peeking up at him. “Well, what did our dear Jacob have to say on the matter?”

“He said he loved her.”

He cocks his chin in confirmation. “He did.”

“And he said you slept with her.”

Once again, he nods. But slower this time, with regret permeating the room. “Not my finest hour.”

“I guess I just wonder how you come back from something like that?”

He grabs a fresh lime wedge, pops it into his mouth with a contemplative expression, and then offers it up for you to suck once he seems to have found his verbal footing.

“Jake and I have always been the ones to mend the fissures in each other's hearts…even when we’re the ones who’ve created them. I fix him. He fixes me. That’s just how it is.”

You pull on the lime with your lips, like some strange pacifier, offering nothing. What do you say about something you can’t begin to understand?

“Did you know that twins start interacting with each other in the womb at around 14 weeks?”

Now you’re the class act speaking around a lime wedge in fascination. “Really?”

“Mhmm.” He smiles at your widened eyes, lighting up the way he so often does when he spots an opportunity to teach someone something “Researchers studied twins in utero and found they begin reaching for each other at 14 weeks and engaging in comforting behavior. Stroking each other’s heads, holding hands, things like that.”

Your heart swells imagining their tiny translucent hands seeking each other out in the dark.

“Here’s the really amazing part. All this happens before the senses of sight and hearing develop. Which means…”

“The only thing you knew was each other.” You interject.

He seems pleased with your understanding. “For quite a while, yes.”

“So what you’re saying is that it would take much more than some girl to shake such an indelible bond.”

His thumb strokes over your cheek “Right. Even if she wasn’t just some girl.”

He’s no longer talking about the bubbly face smiling out from fading snapshots pinned to a wall across town, but you pretend not to notice.

He watches you, scrutinizing his opponent across a chessboard, and then asks a question of his own. “Why is it that you’ve never asked about her?”

Confused, you shrug inelegantly. “Well, I didn’t even know she existed until the other day. Kinda hard to ask about someone you don’t—“

“No.” He drops his hand away from your face and rests it on your knee instead, circling the pad of his thumb over the worn denim. “Lily’s mother. You’ve never once asked about her.”

“I asked Jake once.” You murmur, almost ashamed of your inquisitiveness.

A short laugh escapes him, “Oh, I’ll bet that went over like a lead balloon.”

You laugh with him, glad for the dissipated heaviness. “A few obscenities I don’t care to repeat is about all I got out of him.”

“Sounds about right. He hates her because he loves Lily so much.”

“Will you?” You prod gently. “Tell me about her, I mean.”

“Not much to tell.” He fits himself between your legs and tenderly toys with the tiny speck of an opal you wear around your neck. “I think I always knew it wasn’t going to work out, but I moved her in anyway when we found out Lil was on her way.”

Jake was right, you hate her already for the rejection you pick up on in his confession.

“She changed almost overnight…didn’t want much to do with any of it. Mom helped me shop for everything, because what the hell did I know? I read the books and set up birthing classes, which she refused to go to, just shit like that…”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe the absurdity of it all. “I brought all these baby name books home once and you know what she said? ‘Just pick something.’ It gutted me. I couldn’t understand how she could be so cold.”

You spin an errant curl around your finger and wait for him to go on…and on he goes.

“I really saw it one day when she came home to find me painting the clouds on Lily’s wall…”

“You painted those?” It touches you deeply to picture him, brush in hand, working diligently to create a perfect world for his little girl.

“I did. I already told you, I’m kind of a big deal. Anyway, she said it was a waste of time and that if I wanted the baby to see clouds so damn bad, I could just take her outside. Then she bitched about the house smelling like paint. I knew right then that it was never going to work.”

“She didn’t care enough about the baby you were already in love with.”

“Not even close.” He leans into your hand as you pet at his hair. “Then Lil was born and it was like watching a cat who doesn’t know how to care for her kittens. You know the ones? Gotta force ‘em to stay in the little box with their babies? That was her.”

“How could anyone not fall for Lily immediately?” You ask with honest confusion. In your eyes, it doesn’t seem possible.

“I ask myself the same question every day. Long story short, I came home early one afternoon. I should’ve had at least three hours left on campus, but I wasn’t feeling well, so I cleared the rest of my schedule.”

He looks far away as he pulls forth the memory. “There she was stuffing a bag full, with three others already zipped up tight on the bed, and the baby strapped into her carrier. I remember thinking ‘I’ll bury her in the backyard before I let her step foot out of this house with Lily.”

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of you. Such aggression seems out of place on his tongue. He doesn’t follow suit.

“I really think I meant it.” he mulls it over for a blink. “Yeah, you know what? Scratch the ‘think’, I definitely meant it.”

“You’re a good dad, Josh. The best, even.” You definitely mean that, too.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” There go those pink cheeks again. “Anyway, that was the end of that.”

Biting down on your lip to suppress another laugh, you play along “She’s buried in the backyard?”

“Made Sam dig the hole. Told him I was putting in a tiny pool.”

The laughter finally comes, “You’re an idiot.”

You’ve no way of knowing, but watching you laugh, he thinks you’re one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen…and he’s seen a great many beautiful things.

“Nah, she only had Lily in her seat because she had planned on dropping her at my mother’s to avoid a messy goodbye with me. Last I heard, or cared, she was living in Wyoming of all fuckin’ places. She’s never so much as sent her daughter a birthday card. Which is for the best anyhow.”

You take a deep, sorrowful breath “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” he pats your thighs. “She was a shit mother and a shit person. There’s not a damn thing to be sorry for. Besides, I wouldn’t have needed a nanny if I wasn’t some Hallmark movie single dad, and where would we be without you?”

Jake’s voice rings out inside your head. He’s in love with you.

Without giving you time to answer, he marches on. “Alright, my turn. You gonna tell me what was going on under my poor mama’s roof the other day?”

“Just Jake being Jake.” It’s hardly an answer at all, but you pray he’ll leave it at that.

Wrong.

“He was on my bed, you know. So I assume you had been to, until you heard me coming, anyway. Did you fuck him in my bed?”

His voice has changed in pitch. Just a little deeper, rasping with secrecy, and for some ungodly reason the word ‘fuck’ breathing out of him makes you flush with warmth.

You answer swiftly and truthfully. “I didn’t fuck him at all.”

“But close, right?” How does he always know?

Your silence answers the question well enough for him.

“Hmm,” he looks you over like he’s trying to fit jigsaw pieces together. “I know a lot about my brother. More than most can say…there’s that twin thing again. And I know how he is, and I know that’s why you think you want him so badly.”

You aren’t following, so you remain closed-mouthed and await elaboration.

He hands it over readily. “I know a lot about you, too. I can see way down deep inside you. You’re careful, and meticulous. Independent. You hold your fucking own, all day, every day. But it gets old doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

You’re nodding gently along with his observations without even realizing.

“Yeah, it does.” His hands are in your hair now, holding you in place with a firm grasp to keep you nose to nose. “It gets old, and you just want someone to make it all go away sometimes, don’t you?”

Nodding. Nodding. Nodding. Is that all you know how to do? Evidently.

“And you think Jake, with his rock and roll-my dick drags the ground-bullshit is the one who can give it to you like that…but that’s where you’re wrong.”

“Josh…”

His fingers tighten in your hair, “Quiet.”

Fuck. Your thighs would be squeezed together were he not standing between them.

“If you want someone to give you that, you’ve been sleeping in the wrong bed, goldilocks.”

This is a bad idea. Terrible. Possibly the worst idea. The magnum opus of horrible decisions…but that no longer seems to matter much to you, and it never mattered to him to begin with.

Tentatively, with nerves scratching their claws along the folds of your brain, your tongue laps against his bottom lip. It’s so plump and full, warm, soft as buttery suede.

Instantly, you want more, need more…and so you take it, curling another lick in the exact same spot.

It’s as if you’ve fired a starting gun into the air, and there are no longer two of you. It’s all hands and tangled limbs. Shared panting breaths. Mouths and teeth. Low rumblings of sound that vibrate out of his chest and make you clench up tightly in your jeans.

Jeans. Your favorite jeans, have been for years, but all at once, you loathe them and wish they would disappear.

Roughly, he pulls you to the edge of the counter, grinding insistent rolls of his hips against you. He’s hard. So hard…and the thought alone causes your already wild heart to pound so frantically you wonder if he can hear it. Your head tips back, knocking against the cabinet behind you with a dull thunk, as his mouth searches the uncharted waters of your throat.

You reach for the hem of your shirt, preparing to rip it over your head. Your nipples are aching and pleading for attention, and you want his mouth on them so badly you’d gladly beg.

But, he stops you.

“Not here, sweetheart. She could wake up and walk in.” Even desperate to finally have what he’s wanted for so long within reach, he’s still her father first. You’d have it no other way.

“Bedroom.” You move to hop down, but he shakes his head, cupping your still hidden breasts like they’re wonderful, coveted prizes he’s worked tirelessly to win.

“Too close to her room.” He looks up deviously, with lust and something mischievous playing about in his darkened stare “I tend to be a bit…vocal.”

Vocal? Maybe there is a god, after all.

“Josh, please…” your legs have wrapped around his waist, gaining leverage to writhe against him like a common whore.

His eyes sweep the room in rapid fire thought, and then, there are his hands fisting into your shirt to haul you off the counter in a graceful sweeping motion.

Your feet never touch the ground (where does he hide all that strength?) as he maneuvers you into the pantry. The door closes with a click as he fumbles around blindly in the air in search of the string that will bring the light to life.

The space is suddenly illuminated, spotlighting two sets of feverishly shaking hands fighting to pop buttons and lower zippers.

He’s tugging your jeans down, granting your silent wish for them to go away, but when you move to reach inside his own, he pulls back and shoves you up against a wall of shelves. Blue boxes of Mac and cheese rain down, dry pasta tucked inside cardboard rattling like maracas at your feet.

Your shirt has gone as well, when did that happen? The cups of your bra are pulled down by his curled fingers, displaying your breast round and gorgeous just for him.

Whining softly you fight to catch your breath, but promptly lose the battle when his mouth, silken and wet, closes around your nipple to suck lightly…just enough to make you long for more.

He gifts it a tiny nip of his teeth and then releases. You mourn the sensation so deeply, tears seem a very real threat.

“You didn’t deny it when I said you two were close to fucking the other day…” his mouth is pressed hot against the shell of your ear as you palm his cock through his pants.

A shake of your head is meant to mean, ‘I don’t want to talk about him’.

He either doesn’t get the message, or just doesn’t care to heed it. The pads of his fingers dance a lovely little circle over your clit through your panties just once. That small action draws a pathetic whimper out of you, and the sound alone causes his cock to jerk, untouched.

“What did you let him do to my girl?” He taunts, clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Josh,” your hips rock away from the shelving in search of his fingers. “Touch me…fuck, please.”

“Is that what he did?” His voice is a smoky, ghostly finger curling, guiding, beckoning you closer.

“Why do you even care?” You huff, growing pettish and impatient. “It isn’t a contest.”

His fingers have gone back to teasing you, sweeping over your aching clit, sinking into your thighs, thumb tracing patterns over goosebumps. “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. When it comes to you, there is no contest between Jake and I…you just don’t know it yet.”

Your incessant need takes over, rendering you helpless to your desire, and you leave your body in the clutch of auto pilot. Grabbing him by the wrist, you shove his hand into your panties and lose your footing when his knuckle slides over your clit.

His arm is tucked around your waist in a split second, holding your weight effortlessly. “Fuck, you’re soaked. Who’s this sweet little pussy so ready for?”

Your hands rake into his hair, pulling it lightly, and then harder still when he groans at the sting. “You, Josh. Only you.”

“Only me right now,” he corrects, fluttering his finger rapid fire as though it were his tongue. “Wasn’t only for me the other day. That’s alright though, love. I’m gonna make this pretty cunt all mine.”

Where has this been hiding? Surely this isn’t the same Josh you stepped into the kitchen with tonight.

This isn’t the Josh who brings his daughter a tiny surprise every day, even if it’s simply a stick of gum, just so she knows he’s always thinking of her.

This isn’t the ray of sunshine Josh who claps and whistles wildly in public when his favorite golden palm tree fireworks explode into the sky every 4th of July.

Josh who will spend an hour coaxing a splinter out of your hand so that it doesn’t sting. The Josh who cries when Bambi’s mother dies because “Walt Disney didn’t have to be such an asshole”.

“What are you thinking?” He sounds immeasurably turned on, but there’s intrigue there too. He genuinely would like to peek inside your head.

“I’m wondering who the hell you are.” A breathy laugh stumbles out of you, followed closely by a gasp when he slips down to tease you into believing he might ease a finger inside.

“Sweetheart,” he dips down and sinks his teeth into your neck lightly, careful not to leave a mark that might be asked after in the morning over a tiny bowl of Lucky Charms. “I think you’ve always known what lies beneath. Isn’t that right?”

Flashes of memories flicker through your mind like heat lightning— fast and unexpected. Heated looks, a deliciously possessive drag of his hand over the curve of your waist, a smoldering comment that could be taken as nothing short of innocence if you chose to lie to yourself about it.

“Yeah,” A slick smile plays over his beautiful lips, tip of his tongue resting at the corner, just barely there. “What a smart girl you are.”

Never before have you been much for praise, it always seemed slightly contrived. But, coming from him? You’d eat it up with a spoon, scrape the bowl, then hold it out for seconds. Please sir, I want some more.

His fingers snap the elastic of your panties, tugging you out of your thoughts. “Show me.”

He wants you to pull them aside, you know that much…but you’ve a stubborn streak a mile wide that doesn’t know when to shut up, you know that, too. “You want it? You do it.”

The words have scarcely tripped off your tongue and his hand is wrapped around your neck, forehead tilted in close to yours, opposite thumb latched over your bottom lip to hold your mouth open submissively “I said show me.”

You are no longer yourself. Panting and desperate in this tiny room, surrounded by boxes of Cheerios and canned goods, something long gone is marching up front and center. Some animalistic evolutionary leftover that has found its time to shine once again, and you are reduced to no more than your need.

Pulling your panties to the side, you gaze up at him through your lashes and issue a whispered, please.

He leans back, longing to soak in the sight of what he’s imagined one too many times to count. “Look at you, sweetheart. Fucking stunning. My perfect, pretty girl has a perfect, pretty cunt, doesn’t she?”

You should feel shy, on the spot, way too ‘seen’. At least, normally you would. But with Josh? You feel like art adorning a gallery wall that he has traveled across miles and seas simply to admire. You feel beautiful here, bathed in his perception.

Reaching down slowly, he holds your eyes locked in an embrace with his own as he dips a single finger deeply into your warmth. Arching into his touch, your entire body shakes with electric anticipation, but just as quickly as it is given, he takes it away.

That very finger slips into his mouth as he sucks it clean with a muted hum of bliss. “You’re just sweet as can be everywhere, aren’t you, love?”

You reach for him, finished with his game, and more than ready to get on with it, but he pulls away and bends to ease your jeans up before opening the pantry door, leading the way with an ‘after you’ motion of his hand.

“What?” Your brow is stitched into a frown of confusion.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, mock-sympathy thick in his tone. “I think it’s time you went to sleep thinking about me for a change, don’t you?”

Incredulous, you can manage no more than a stunned stare.

“Off you go.” He smiles innocently.

You shove him out of the way, feeling foolish and very near tears, but he grabs your arm and spins you around before you can hit the hallway.

“If you can look me in the eye tomorrow morning and tell me that this didn’t feel more right than anything that’s ever happened between you and my brother, I’ll hand over my blessing and step aside.”

“Fuck you, Josh.” Wow, how eloquent.

“Yes, that’s the idea.” He laughs. “Eventually. Amongst other things.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @paleshadow-ofadragon @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @alisonwonderland29 @joshkiszkas @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @dvrkblooms @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #gvf fic #josh kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka fanfiction #gvf smut #josh kiszka imagine #fanfic #gvf josh #jake kiszka

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brainrot-has-overtaken-me · 8 days

Text

ReLife Drabble

I have been taken ahold by this prompt from @dat1angel. It has me in its grips currently (and may or may not be distracting me from other things I should be doing) I can't stop think about it.

I will say I have never wrote a full fanfiction by myself, though I have co-wrote and beta'd fic before, so who knows if I will actually finish this, but I have already planned it out to through the fist death loop. So y'all will at least get up until then, even if it's slow coming cause finals season and then I'm going out of country for a bit.

Anyways here's a lil drabble of what I have so far:

“Here we go again.” Jimmy thought disparagingly as he looked around the clearing that everyone was waking up in after suddenly being transported there. He had just been swimming with the cod in his empire when a purple glow began to surround him, causing him to pass out only to wake up in whatever game the Watchers have in store for them this time. Looking around the clearing Jimmy recognized the 13 other faces with him, noticing that the Watchers chose to drag the cast from that time they had soulmates in these games back.

Standing up as everyone else began to orientate themselves as to being in the games once again, a loose circle formed while attention started to turn towards Grian to find out what the catch was this time around. “While we all understand that what happens in these games is ‘no harm, no foul,’ there is still some tension between us from Double Life, even though we’ve had games since then. So They have brought us all back together to ‘fix’ it. I can tell that there is something else They want to achieve, though They are not giving any details. Other than that there is no gimmick this time around, a new world with borders as usual and just normal 3rd Life rules…”

While Grian was explaining the ins and outs of the three life system in case anyone had forgotten, Jimmy’s mind began to wander, thinking about why they were dragged here once more. “The Watchers can claim it’s to ‘fix’ the tension leftover from Double Life, but if that was truly the case, why wasn’t Lizzie here? Or Mumbo? Or Zed? Or really just anyone who was also affected by the relationships that were formed during Double Life even if they weren’t in the games themselves. Most of the tension afterwards came from those that were on the outside not understanding the games and the situations we were put in. And even then, most relationships have come to some agreement or understanding over what happened and the new bonds formed. Barely any tension was still held between players, though in some cases like Mumob, Scar and Grian trust was having to be rebuilt. But overall it doesn’t make much sense to bring just the Double Life players back to ‘fix’ themselves, without any gimmicks. And this secret motive Grian could sense, what could that be-?”

“And with that the game has begun. The grace period is over and any damage taken from this point on can and will result in consequences. Welcome to ReLife.” Grian’s explanation of the game comes to an end, drawing Jimmy back into the conversations around him as people split off to begin gathering resources while the sun is still up. Breaking off from everyone else, Jimmy began to collect some wood, basic tools, and easy food. Looking for a surface cave that hasn’t been claimed yet, he was still caught in thought by what the Watchers want from them. “He’s a champion of the Listeners for Aeor’s sake! He understands Their motives somewhat. Watchers like entertainment and feed off of high emotions, though They like chaos and other negative ones the best. They wouldn’t want the tension from Double Life to be resolved so what could this secret motive be?”

Coming across a small cave opening in a hill he could spot a bit of surface iron and coal. Figuring this is as good as he’s gonna get, seeing as most of the good caves are probably claimed, Jimmy jumps on into the small opening to gather a bit of coal for torches before setting up a spot with furnaces and tackling gearing up. After about fifteen minutes of mining the visible iron without exploring too deep into the cave he figures he’s collected enough iron for a few tools and maybe a piece or armor or two. Turning around he heads back to his furnaces to take a small break while everything begins to smelt. Hearing footsteps approach, he begins to turn around when a voice calls out.

“Hi Jimmy!” Scott’s voice drifts through the cave opening. Fully turning around he sees his husband smiling down at him as Scott continues to mirror the same greeting he gave so many years ago in the first game. “Of all people I find it’s you.” Climbing down to join him in the cave, Jimmy can’t help but smile at his husband’s soft laughter at how they were brought together once again.

“Out of all people I run into first Petal, it’s you. How are you holding up? I haven’t gotten much gear yet, been running across the surface for so long looking for either people or a place to settle first.”

“I’m doing okay. I kind of just wandered off looking for a cave without anyone in it, needing to think, but I’ve found enough iron for some tools and maybe a few pieces of armor. They’re smelting right now, but maybe we can split it?” He saw a soft but concerned look cross Scott’s eyes at his words.

“If you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind having some for a few pieces of gear, maybe a shield? I’m sure we can find more to be enough for both of us if we go deeper into the caves. But Petal, what’s got you stuck in your head so much that you went looking to be alone?” His voice conveyed nothing but concern and care for the other.

“Its just that Secret Life ended not too long ago, it’s too soon to be in the games again. Plus They like our suffering! Find it entertaining! Why do they want us to ‘fix’ our relationship issues after Double Life?” He began pacing, voicing his frustration a little louder as he got worked up. “And this ‘something else’ that Grian could sense. What is it? What secret agenda do They have? With no gimmicks this time around to add onto, it can’t be entertaining enough for Them to actually feed! And with my curse of being first out everytime, I know that I probably won’t be around long enough to get answers.” Towards the end of his rant, the frustration in his voice turned to tears as Scott came up to hug him.

“While I don’t have answers for you Petal, you’re not cursed. You have bad luck Jimmy and sometimes these guys don’t make it easy for you.” Reaching into his inventory, Scott pulled out a very familiar flower, “With the circumstances being so familiar as all those years ago, I promise that this time I won’t become a widow and you will make it to the end. That is if you’ll marry me again, Love?” Scott asked, breaking the hug and extending the poppy in his hands towards Jimmy.

#i hope this is okay!#i hope you like it #this is seriously my first time solo creative writing #so im a little nervous #but this prompt has taken over my brain #the brainrot is brainrotting #life series #trafficblr #traffic light smp #jimmy solidarity #smajor1995 #flower husbands #fanfic #fanfiction

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strikersexhaver · 11 months

Note

Hi!

Since requests are open, I thought I'd give it a try! So far, I've only saw 1-2 fics with the similar concept. Can I request headcanons for Striker x Male Angel Reader? I thought it'd be interesting since know we know how angels look like (Canonically: Adam and there are two concept art pictures of two angel sisters: Emily and Sera).

(A/N) Okay so! I’m not sure if Emily and Sera are canon. Because when I looked for them it was “Hazbin Hotel: Journey to the Light” which I think was a very popular fan fiction? I’m not sure though. Regardless, I got you covered though!

I used some personal headcanons, to make it easier / flow more smoothly. It also worked as a ‘angel who’s pretty much a runt and got kicked out’

Striker X Male Angel!S/O

Like most demons, during the aftermath of an exorcist. Striker was in the pride on grabs for leftover angelic weaponry.

It’s not that he liked the spears that they used, oh no no, he was a gunman through and through.

It’s simply that the metals from these leftover weapons can create other holy weapons. Such as his guns, for his job it was crucial to have these. As demonic royalty (and overlords) cannot die (or die again) without certain holy weaponry.

But what he was not expecting to find was an angel that was left behind, you were attempting and failing to conjure a portal back.

It was depressing watching you fail back and forth, but unfortunately Striker wasn’t here to pity.

He wanted your weapon plus- you were distracted so perfect opportunity.

Quietly sneaking up behind you and slipping your weapon with something else he ran.

You didn’t even notice as you were so annoyed, pissed that you couldn’t go back.

It was only until you looked around and noticed the weight in your hand was gone, you let out a sigh.

You usually were supposed to drop these weapons anyway, but you brought your own.

Your own weapon you spent too much time investing in, so you had to go and get it regardless.

The only thing you saw of him was a cowboy silhouette and the only thing that came to mind was Wrath, you’ve heard that those who live there are much more akin to southern people on Earth.

You tracked him down, all the way back to his lair to find him dissembling your weapon, pissed you were at the discovery.

He was surprised you followed him, found it amusing an angel being so caught up on a demon went this far. But he used this as a chance to see how good angels really were at fighting.

He was proved right, you were good at what you did. But he was a bit surprised, you didn’t seem like too much of an elite angel. You were on his level but that’s it.

He was intrigued, so he teased you and stopping trying with you practically becoming a casual

Even flirting with you saying things like-

“What’s a handsome thang’ like ya’ self doin’ all this far out in hell?” His tail swished with interest, with an amused grin.

“Heh, I thought y’all were supposed to fuckin’ hate hell-“

It was clear he wasn’t taking you all that seriously, he figured you were left behind.

You were trying not to respond till you got some upper hand- yet to no avail.

He pissed you off.

He noticed and kept fucking around with you, belittling you in comments jokingly.

At one point you even laughed at them, not even taking them offensively.

You started to flirt back in a way that was demeaning in the eyes of your angelic peers from above.

During this fight your feathers fell off, not from the pressure but the fact you were flirting with a demon, maybe the older angels would claim it’s because you both are men.

But for some reason, you did not care. You already got left behind by your fellow angels so- what was the point anymore?

You two started hitting it off, a withering angel on the way to being fallen and a rattlesnake-imp of a cowboy.

He took you out instead of fighting with you, he flirted with you while taking the two of you to a bar.

“So’ why’d ya’ get kicked out?” he said while drinking a shot of whiskey.

You denied being kicked out, as your feathers fell.

He shrugged it off, what was clear to him clearly wasn’t to you.

Until you noticed your wings dropped, your back light and nothing was able to lift you off your feet anymore.

You clutched your shoudler as you turned to see your now gone wings.

Striker had a smirk on his face

“See? Ya’ got left alone suga’” he kept drinking and looked at you with a smirk.

A look of shock was on your face till realization hit, yeah you fully got left behind purposefully. And fully alone- besides the half-imp besides you of course.

Striker on the other hand, used this to his advantage he was able pry out the information on where Angels dropped their weapons in hell from you.

And other, miscellaneous things that would help him out

He did start to like you, eventually, he smiled around you. He got you to assist him on his jobs, furthering your downfall to hell.

#striker #striker helluva boss #striker x reader #striker x reader helluva boss #helluva boss #helluva boss striker #striker / reader #striker and reader #striker x y/n #striker x oc

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winchesterandpie · 2 years

Text

Stay?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!reader

Word Count: 1356

Warnings: sooo self indulgent, soft Bradley, best friends to lovers, falling asleep on each other. I'm a bit touch starved. Can you tell? Should I write a fic specifically with a touch-starved reader?

A/N: Ok, I had this thought and I had to make it a reality. I also just closed on a condo, so there probably won't be another fic this weekend because I have to move all my stuff and unpack and I don't have wifi set up at my new place yet. Anyways, I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you all enjoy!!

“Wait, hey, you can’t take an entire pizza!” you cried foul, smacking Bradley’s hand in rebuke.

“I can order more if there isn’t enough,” Javy offered, already picking up his phone.

“There’s plenty! I was picking it up for us to share,” Bradley defended himself, reaching for the box again. This time you let him grab it. “This is the type you want, right?”

‘I-- yeah?” In your shock, it came out as more of a question.

He knew, somehow, just flashing you a crooked smile and a wink before turning to claim your spot on the couch. You could vaguely hear the bickering over what movie to watch going on behind you, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than that little upturn of Bradley’s lips. You would be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter.

Reuben grinned, nudging you with his elbow as he got his own pizza. He was well aware of your crush on your best friend. In fact, he’d recently started pushing you to tell Bradley. You weren’t about to, but you suspected he would soon move on to intentionally putting you in positions that could force you to reveal your feelings.

Perhaps he already had started to.

When you turned around from getting a drink for you and one for Bradley, there was only one spot left. It happened to be right next to him, but with the way everyone had crowded in, there was just enough space for you to sit pressed up against him.

He accommodated you easily, shifting an arm around your shoulders so you fit together more comfortably. You felt your face heat up even as you leaned into him. Bradley set the pizza across both your laps and took his drink from you, seemingly unaffected.

You could have sworn Natasha winked at you before starting the movie. For now, you dismissed the thought and settled into Bradley’s side.

One and a half movies later, you were intensely cozy and full of pizza. With the warmth radiating from the aviator next to you, it was a dangerous combination. And oh it worked.

You were so sleepy, and the movie was one of your favorite comfort movies. Slowly but surely you were falling asleep. Bradley seemed unfazed by the whole thing. If anything, he was pulling you closer every time you dozed off.

The first couple of times your eyes drifted shut, you jerked back awake.

“Sorry,” you mumbled when you realized you were leaning more heavily against him.

“S’ok. Go back to sleep,” he encouraged quietly.

If you were more awake, you might have registered the way his nose pressed into your hair. Even without really processing it, you tilted into the touch. Bradley’s mouth turned up in a gentle smile you couldn’t see as you relaxed against him again.

By the end of the movie, you were fully asleep and fully curled into his side. The other aviators gradually made their way out of his place, though Jake and Natasha handled the leftovers quietly before leaving too.

“Quit waiting around, Bradshaw,” Jake teased, standing in the doorway. “For real though, tell her and spare us all the pining.”

Bradley used the hand not passing up and down your back to flip Hangman off. Jake just chuckled and closed the door behind himself.

You were still sleeping peacefully, and Bradley debated the best way to move you to his bed. The couch was comfortable, but no couch was that comfortable.

He shifted you carefully into his lap, then into his arms. You stirred just a little when he started walking, grumbling and pressing your face into his shirt.

“You’re ok. It’s just me, sweet girl,” he soothed.

You settled at the sound of his voice, and he swore his heart melted. If it hadn’t melted then, it certainly did when he set you on the bed and your fingers gripped his shirt, unwilling to let go. He didn’t want to release you either, but he still reached up to unclench your fingers gently. You held onto his hand instead.

“Stay?” you asked quietly. Still mostly asleep, you didn’t have the filter that normally kept you from speaking your desires.

“I have to lock up and turn the lights off.” He was trying to convince himself to pry his hand away.

“Then come back after. Please?”

“Honey, I…” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “Are you sure?” he asked at last.

You hummed an affirmative, twisting your face into the pillows that smelled like him. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles.

“Ok, I’ll be back in just a minute.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

True to his word, he was back before you had fallen completely asleep. You felt the bed dip as he slid under the covers behind you and rolled over to face him. He tugged you into his arms and you fit like you were meant to be there.

When he chuckled, the sound reverberated through you where you lay on his chest. You hummed contentedly, nuzzling into him.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” You mumbled the words softly, so softly he almost couldn’t hear you. But he did.

“You mean that?”

You hesitated, looking up at him to find his eyes trained on you. “Yes,” you said at last.

Something flickered to life in his eyes at your confirmation, something eager, something longing. Suddenly, you weren’t so sleepy. “I want that too.”

“Kiss me?”

“Your wish is my command, honey.”

You couldn’t help the faint gasp that escaped you when his lips met yours. You had been waiting for this for far too long, imagined it too many times. It was better than any dream you had ever had. He kissed you gently at first, but you reciprocated like he was the air you needed to breathe.

And he kind of was. Some small part of you was afraid that if you let go, if you let him stop kissing you, if you even breathed, Bradley might vanish in front of you like it was all a dream.

Eventually, of course, you were forced to part from him. Reluctantly, you acquiesced to your lungs’ demand for air. Despite your momentary fear, he didn’t disappear. He watched you with bright eyes and traced his fingers across your face lightly.

“Why haven’t we done that before?” you asked rhetorically as a grin spread across your face.

Bradley returned your smile, tilting your chin so he could kiss you again briefly. “Dunno,” he mumbled against your lips. “But now I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

You grinned into yet another kiss. “Good. Think I might be addicted to you.”

He tilted your lips together again, though this was more of a soft touch than a kiss. Your sleepiness was catching up to you again, and you could feel your eyelids starting to droop. Bradley noticed it too, nudging your nose with his.

“Go to sleep,” he said softly, shifting so you could nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

“You’ll stay?” you slurred the words, very quickly drifting toward sleep.

He hummed, brushing his fingers across your skin. “Course I’ll stay. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

That was enough to settle you the rest of the way to sleep.

Tomorrow, you would both wake to find your phones spammed by naval aviators with pictures of you asleep on Bradley’s shoulder, demanding to know what happened after they left. You would have a new contact photo in Bradley’s phone, and he would have a new lock screen. He would admire how soft and relaxed you were and you would marvel at the way he looked at you. Even in the picture, you would feel the love in his gaze, so you would print a copy to keep in the chest pocket of your flight suit to keep him close to you.

For tonight, however, there was just the two of you in each other’s arms, and that was all you needed.

Top Gun Taglist:

@malindacath @army24--7 @mads-weasley

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster #top gun #top gun maverick #gosh i love him

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inactive-hellish-hyperfixation · 2 years

Text

Caught in the act | Chase Davenport x male reader

genre: fluff

requested: yes

summary: Chase Davenport struggles with finding time to spend with his boyfriend due to missions and trying to hide the relationship from his family. Fortunately, his family was going out and coming home late one night. Or so he thought.

a/n: Again, sorry this took so long anon! But i hope you enjoy it. Some of the characters may be slightly ooc because I haven't seen Lab Rats in forever, but I tried my best.

word count: 1.9k

It wasn’t often you got to spend time with your boyfriend. Between going on missions, training, and homework, Chase didn’t have much spare time. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t want to tell his family about your relationship just yet, the act of tiptoeing around them making it even more difficult. Luckily, the Davenports were going out for dinner and a movie, and Chase had the wonderful excuse of an upcoming test to get out of it. He’d already gotten confirmation from Donald that all of them would be out all night, returning home far past the point of 10pm, and sent you a text to come by at noon with your school bag under the pretext of studying together for the same test.

~~~

“We’ll be back a little after 10. There’s leftovers in the fridge, or you can order something for dinner. And there better be nobody other than you and y/n in this house while we’re gone!” Mr. Davenport was the last one to leave the house, and he only did so after you and Chase repeatedly assured him that there would be no parties or breaking of rules of any sort. Once he was sure that the car was out of the driveway and far out of sight, Chase flopped down next to you on the couch, practically sitting on your lap with how close he was. You didn’t mind it one bit.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a dopey grin on his face, and you couldn’t help but return it.

“Hey yourself.” A comfortable silence blanketed over the room, so you spent a moment taking in every feature of your boyfriend’s face, reveling in the slight blush that formed at the attention.

“As much as I like it, staring at each other wasn’t on the agenda.”

“An agenda?” You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Chase dig around in his bag. “Don’t tell me you actually made a plan for today.” Just as the words left your mouth, he turned and held up a piece of paper with an even bigger smile than earlier.

“Of course I did! We've got movies, Netflix, books, board games, video games, and I bought a bunch of snacks!" He sat next to you again and pointed at the first thing on the handwritten schedule, though it was difficult to read the messy scrawl.

"We start with Sorry! Ready?" In response, you simply stared at him in silence with an exasperated, yet amused, smile.

"What? You don't like it? I wanted to make tonight as perfect as possible since we don't really get to spend a lotta time together, so I thought a schedule would- "

You cut him off with a quick kiss and grabbed his hand, thumbing over his knuckles. “For the smartest man alive, you sure are dumb." He looked slightly offended, though the pink dusting his cheeks told you he wasn’t. "I don't need an entire schedule to have fun, I just want to spend time with you. That's more than enough."

"That's adorable, and disgustingly cheesy. You really are a good boyfriend aren't you?"

"The best, and only for you." You leaned in for a kiss with exaggerated motions, and he pushed you away, laughter filling the air.

"So… is that a no to Sorry?" He asked sheepishly once your voices quieted once more and shook the board game box a few times.

"Sorry sounds great, babe."

~~~

After a few hours of playing board games (hours because Monopoly took much longer than expected), you both decided that snacks and a movie would be a good way to cool off your overheated brains.

You sat on the couch, getting comfortable with various chip bags surrounding you and a weighted blanket on your lap as Chase finished adjusting the settings on the TV. He claimed it would make the movie-viewing experience better, and you didn't have the heart to tell him the audio and visuals felt the same as they did before he changed stuff around.

"Annnd done!" With that, he shuffled under the blanket and after a moment of thought, conflict evident in the furrow of his brow, he chose to sit with his right thigh over your left and burrow into your side like a cat rather than next to you. He said he felt too clingy at the beginning of the relationship, but you made sure to assure him that you enjoyed it, and his so-called “clingy” tendencies began to show clearly.

The movie began to play, an animated romance/fantasy film you didn’t know the title of, and you leaned into your boyfriend while he did the same. Chase grabbed a bag of chips—Doritos, you noted absentmindedly—and you grabbed a handful, popping one into your mouth. The quiet crunching of chips filled the air, and the night went on like this for a while. The two of you in a dark room sharing chips, sharing kisses, commenting on the movie once in a while, shifting to a more comfortable position, and basking in each others’ presence because such moments were rare and too beautiful not to enjoy.

Around halfway through, as the protagonist on screen began a monologue about their love for their love interest, you felt eyes on you. You turned to be met with Chase’s intense eyes, widened from being caught staring, and a bit of blush evident in the light from the TV.

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

“Obviously you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine, then what’re you thinking about?”

“Now that’s a better question.” He sighed and placed his head on your shoulder. Something he did when he was either tired or embarrassed; you assumed it was the latter.

“I was thinking about you. Us. How lucky I am to have you. The fact that you’re my boyfriend, the fact that I’m your boyfriend… The fact that we’re boyfriends! Like, that’s insane!” He sighed, and it was heavier than the moment called for. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sound. “I know I haven’t been the best, not telling my family about our relationship, and being busy all the time with missions, and—”

“Hey, none of that.”

You raised his head and cupped his face with your hands, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone lightly.

“I already said, I don’t mind keeping us a secret until you’re ready to tell your family, and you can’t apologize for going on missions! You’re literally saving peoples’ lives, Chase! I admire you even more for it.” You were about to continue a monologue about your love for him when he cut you off with a kiss. It was long, but chaste, until he quickly changed his position to straddle your legs. It wasn’t unusual for either of you, since he often sat on your lap or between your legs casually, claiming it was comfortable, but it did give you the perfect opportunity to tease.

“I’m not complaining, but isn't this moving a bit too—”

“I’m definitely in love with you.”

You froze, not expecting the confession. Neither of you had used the L word yet, although you thought it many times, and after the initial shock faded, you felt your face go hot and your heart do flips.

“You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready, or you don’t feel the same.”

“No! I mean, yes. I love you too, I mean. I’m also in love with you.”

It was safe to say the movie was far forgotten at this point. It became background sound to the genuine confessions and charged stares. Eye contact was only broken when Chase made the move to kiss you again, and you accepted the action with equal enthusiasm.

Far too busy kissing and whispering sweet words to each other, neither of you succeeded in hearing the car pull up in the driveway, the voices getting louder as the people got closer to the door, and the jingling of keys as the door was unlocked. Only after the lights were turned on did you pull away and turn to see the rest of the Davenports standing at the door with incredulous expressions. You were frozen, but Chase practically jumped off of you, fixing his hair and clothes to look a little tidier.

“Mr. Davenport! You-you’re early! We totally weren’t doing anything! And we’re not dating, or anything! He was just about to go home, actually!” When he realized it didn’t do anything to convince anybody, he sighed. “Fine. I know it’s shocking, but we are… together…”

“I knew it! Adam, you owe me 10 bucks!” Bree’s gleeful voice pierced through the room, accompanied by Adam’s groan.

“How was I supposed to know they were together? It’s not like they told anybody!” The oldest sibling defended himself while pulling out a ten from his wallet and handing it over to Bree’s eager hands.

“Oh, come on, it was obvious! Have you seen the way they look at each other? It’s so cheesy it’s gross.”

“Maybe it was just a really close bro look!”

“If any of my friends looked at me like that, we wouldn’t be just friends for long.”

“Wait, you guys bet on us?” You asked them amused, but Chase looked at them with offense clear on his face.

“That’s not okay! My relationships are none of your business, and definitely not your entertainment!”

“Exactly! Guys, come on. No making bets on each other,” Mr. Davenport pitched in. “At least, not without letting me in on it.” He, Bree, and Adam all chuckled, but was shut down by Mrs. Davenport slapping her husband’s shoulder.

“Enough. Chase, why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“Yeah, why didn’t you?” Leo followed up Mrs. Davenport’s comment, as though attempting to be heard through the chaos, but most people ignored him in favor of listening to Chase’s response.

“I dunno, I guess I was just… scared that you guys wouldn’t approve. I mean, Mr. Davenport always told us it was too dangerous to get into relationships because of our missions, and I didn’t think you guys would like the fact that I sorta… told him about our bionics.” At this point, you were standing next to him and silently held his hand in support.

Mr. Davenport looked ready to scold him, likely about the second part of the confession, but Mrs. Davenport shut him down again.

“Oh, Chase. I get where you’re coming from, but we’re your family, and we care too much about you to stay mad. Though, I think we will need to talk about this later.” Chase nodded in understanding, and let out a sigh of what felt like relief.

“I totally get it, dude. I’d break Davenport’s rules if it meant dating someone as chill as y/n too,” Adam said with a grin.

“Just keep it out of my face and I don’t really care what you do,” Bree said with a serious tone, though her expression made it obvious that it was lighthearted.

“See? Told you they’d be okay with it.” You nudged Chase with your hips and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, eliciting another blush from him along with various sounds of disgust from the rest of his family.

The night ended with you and Chase cleaning up the living room and you spending the night at the Davenports’ place, as you have many times before. Only this time, you had to convince Mr and Mrs. Davenport to allow you to share a room with Chase.

#chase davenport #chase davenport x male reader #lab rats x male reader #male reader #lab rats #fluff #chase davenport fanfiction #chase x male reader #x male reader

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radiowallet · 9 months

Text

Eyes Open - Chapter 11

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Amy Oliver (ofc) Summary: Marcus and Amy finally get their date. WC: 3.4K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, talk of police work, a blatant show of testosterone, blood, injuries, kissing, making-out, dry humping, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, a smidge of dirty talk hurt/comfort, slow burn, yearning, idiots friends to lovers, financial stressors, second chance romance, workplace romance (sort of), older love interest, single parents, DID I MENTION THE YEARNING?

Series Masterlist II Main Masterlist II Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Cross-Posted to AO3

Part 10 >>> Epilogue

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

------

The first thing Marcus notices is that he’s hot. Too hot for a bed where most of the covers have been kicked down to the floor. The next is that there is something heavy laying across his chest. The third is that his back is killing him.

“Next time we do this,” he hums, trying hard not to let it sound like a groan, stretching his legs where they dangle off the side of the small bed frame, “we’re staying at my place.”

Amy makes a similar noise from where she shifts on top of him, her chin digging into his bare chest, propping herself up, half-lidded eyes soft in the early morning light.

“Next time?”

Marcus takes care to smooth back the loose tendrils of hair that had tangled overnight, before cupping her cheek, letting the pad of his thumb trace the crease of sleep around her eyes.

“Next time.”

Already he’s thinking of Friday - tomorrow - and the date he’s been planning for what feels like forever now. The night before still feels lost in a haze, the two of them more exhausted than either cared to let on. By the time they got back to Amy’s apartment, they had just enough energy to stand in her kitchen, trading cold leftovers back and forth as they watched each other with hungry but tired eyes.

“I don’t know if this is okay,” he had murmured through a bite of chicken, his gaze tracing the curves of her form slowly from top to bottom, “but I really like how you look in my clothes.”

Amy looked down, tugging at one of the buckles on his vest before looking back at him, her smile more than knowing.

“You mean this?”

It was impossible to respond, his tongue dry, sticking like glue to the roof of his mouth. He stepped in closer, dragging his thumb across her bottom lip, wiping away any phantom trace of barbecue sauce before leaning in for a kiss.

“You need to take this off.”

“Why? Is it distracting?”

It seemed stupid to lie at that point, even to tease, so he nodded instead, hands dropping to the buckles and snaps, pulling them free with the slightest of tremor. His own sob came out of nowhere, tears tracking down his cheeks as he pulled the Kevlar off of her, letting it land somewhere by their feet. Amy had moved in time with him, pulling him to her own shoulder for comfort, but Marcus held his ground, backing her into the counter and caging her in with the width of his arms.

“Never again,” he growled in her ear, a possessive thrill chasing his spine when she shivered at his words.

They had fallen into bed shortly after, tears traded for laughter as Marcus did his best to fit his broad frame on Amy’s twin-sized bed. By the time they had settled into a position resembling comfortable (Marcus on his back with Amy curled half lying on top of him) they were too tired for much more than a few languid kisses before sleep claimed them both.

Amy hums again, parroting his promise of next time back to him before sliding out of bed, stretching her arms overhead. Despite his complaints, he’s reaching for her, beckoning her back to the too small space. She shakes her head, the sweetest smile teasing her lips in an apology.

“Chris will be here with Harris soon.”

This has him sitting up, eyes cheating between Amy and the front door.

“Should I go?”

She shuffles back and forth, tugging at the hem of her sleep shirt - black and dirty and very much his - her bottom lip snared between her teeth.

“I don’t know?” She perches her small frame on the arm of the sofa, head falling into her hands. “I probably should have figured that out before this morning.”

Marcus moves over to sit on the couch beside her, his hand finding the curve of her knee easily. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I brought a woman over?”

She turns to him, brow arching in mild disbelief. “When was this?”

“A couple of years ago. Missy was around 14.”

“How did you handle it?”

“Badly,” he admits through a nervous laugh.

“Was Missy home?”

“Yes,” he can’t help but groan, letting his head fall back into the couch. “It was all very spur of the moment. I was out with some friends for drinks and I spent the night talking with this girl. She wasn’t my soulmate or anything but she was nice and there was a mutual attraction. And… fuck, I was horny, Ames.”

She looks like she wants to laugh but she holds it back, instead putting her hand on top of his where it rests on her knee. “I can relate.”

“It was so late. Almost past one. I was sure Missy would be asleep.”

“Buuuuut?”

“But sure enough, open the door with what was basically a stranger on my arm and there she was, watching some weird cartoon in the living room.”

This time Amy does laugh, a small chuckle breaking past her lips. He pulls her down off the arm of the sofa and into his lap, fingers digging into her ribs as he does so. Her laughter turns frantic, and Marcus is quick to swallow the sound, kissing her firmly on the lips until she finally settles.

“So was that the end of Marcus Moreno’s adventures in dating?”

“It was the end of random hook-ups, that’s for sure.”

“Excuse me for being a bit obtuse, but that story didn’t exactly clear up my confusion,” she quips, leaning in to nudge her nose into his bottom lip.

“My point,” he admonishes, grabbing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, an attempt to keep her attention on his words, “is that Missy is no worse for the wear. And no matter what you decide, Harris will be too.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you.”

They part ways after that, Marcus partially taking the decision on himself and saving Amy a difficult conversation so early in the morning.

“I’ll pick you up around 7 tomorrow night?” He asks between their fourth and fifth kiss goodbye.

She nods and smiles, before stealing kiss number six. “Any hints on what the plans are?”

His only response is kiss number seven.

————

There hadn’t been a lot of cause for dressing up over the past few years, leaving most of Amy’s nicer dresses to be shoved to the back of her closet. She hasn’t thought about them much, the short skirts and tight tank tops feeling like they belonged to a different person most days. But now she thinks maybe she’s not so different, and maybe, just maybe, it’s time to rediscover pieces of herself she had set aside.

She smooths at the black lace, admiring the way the fabric falls around her waist, refusing to second guess her choice. Marcus hadn’t given her any hints about his plans for tonight, but she had reasoned that some things would always hold true, like how good she looked in (and out of) a little black dress. Chris had assured her it was perfect when she walked in, a knowing smile when she spotted a small overnight bag next to Harris’s. Amy only shrugged in response.

Before they had left, she took care to bend down, straightening Harris’s jacket and smoothing back her curls, doing her best to appear calm. “Are you sure you’re alright spending the night with Auntie Christine again, Jellybean?”

The 7-year-old had rolled her eyes, grabbing Amy’s cheeks between her small hands, schooling her tiny features into an attempt at something serious. “We are going to see Spiderman,” stomping her foot for emphasis. “Do not screw this up for me, momma.”

The dramatics had been enough to wipe away the last of her anxieties, and she waved all of them off with just enough time for one last primp in the mirror before Marcus was knocking on her door.

“You’re early,” she teased, opening the door wide enough to let him in.

“Can you blame me?” he fired back, admiring her with hungry eyes.

Amy can feel herself blushing beneath the heat of his gaze, the look enough to remind her of every touch and every kiss they’ve already shared, and the promise of more to come. She bites her lip and grabs for her bag, holding it up for Marcus to see.

“I didn’t want to assume.”

“Always so prepared,” he hums, taking the bag from her hand before offering his other arm for her to take.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going?” She asks as they walk outside, the two of them parting only long enough for her to lock up.

“I was thinking, you got to show off your cooking skills. So maybe it could be my turn?”

“So that means…?” she asks, the answer already pulling a smile to her cheeks and a pull deep in her core.

“Amy,” he starts, his lips turned up into something wolfish, eyes burning dark with want. “Can I take you back to my place?”

————

Marcus had plans. A menu with wine and dessert. Ingredients stacked neatly in the fridge. There had been candles and an empty house and a chance for him to pamper Amy in all the ways he knew she deserved.

But then she answered the door in that little black dress. She packed a bag and took his arm and smiled. She let him rest the palm of his hand on her thigh as he drove them back towards his home. And slowly, then all at once, his plans fell apart.

He blames that first kiss.

Seemingly innocent and pressed to his cheek as he unlocked the front door, the smell of her perfume overwhelming his senses. What else was he supposed to do but turn and kiss her fully? How could he do anything else? But slant his lips over hers and pull her close, letting the door close soundly behind them. Pull her up the stairs and back towards his bedroom, a broken plea moaning out between each and every kiss.

Amy is quick to follow, her hands clinging and grasping and pulling at the barriers between them. Somewhere between the bottom step and the top, laughter breaks out, the two of them stopping to take in their disheveled state of affairs. Marcus trails the tip of his finger up her shoulder, pushing the strap of her dress back into place, watching with rapt attention as a shiver follows his simple touch.

“I had planned on cooking you dinner.”

“You still can,” she promises, leaning up on the balls of her feet to kiss him on the lips, the briefest of tastes, the brown of her eyes bleeding darker by the second. When she pulls away, the strap of her dress has fallen back down, and this time he can’t resist helping it along, fingers following the thin piece of fabric along to the curve of her breast.

It’s a bit of a fumble from there, anxious legs moving too fast while careful hands try to savor each piece of skin exposed. Marcus feels a tremble, the flutter of her heart catching beneath his shaking fingers. And he can’t ignore it, his grip slipping as he tries and fails to unzip Amy’s dress. Smaller hands find his cheeks, her lips pressing into his, and together they breathe in and out. It’s more than enough to steady his touch, and finally, finally, her dress falls to the floor.

“I feel like I should say something romantic,” he admits, refusing to look away as Amy sinks to her knees.

“Like?” She teases, her smile doing little to hide her intent. There are words burning at the back of his throat, his own jokes that he could make, but every thought leaves him when the tip of her tongue finds the underside of his quickly hardening cock.

“Shit…Ames….,” he half groans, eyes falling shut as he savors the feeling, then, desperate to see her again, he forces them open. And not a moment too soon, her lips stretching around him, the weight of her tongue heavy beneath his length.

His hands find the back of her head just as she swallows around him, her own moan vibrating through him, his knees buckling around the sensation. Her pace is slow, steady, bobbing up and down his cock while she watches him from below. He moans again, all of it so good so soon, and he can feel the way Amy smiles around him in reply. Delicate fingers find the back of his thighs just as she sinks all the way down, burying her nose in the patch of dark hair around the base of his cock. It’s then that Marcus loses some of his senses, hand digging into her hair, hips bucking, just once into the wet warm heat of her mouth.

“I…fuck…it’s been so…l-long,” he chokes out, legs shaking harder with each stuttering breath he tries to take.

Amy pulls away in the cruelest of mercies, pressing a gentle kiss to his trembling muscles, shushing him softly. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

The gentle adorations coupled with the sweet touch of her fingers, petting along the back of his thighs is all of a sudden too much. He drops to his knees, framing her face between his hands, kissing her as hard as he can. There’s the faintest taste of himself on her tongue, the realization enough to drag another moan out of him.

He pulls back after, giving them both enough space to take each other in. Marcus reaches behind her, then waits, watching Amy with a shy smile. She laughs, and nods, and then he’s unhooking the clasp on her bra with shaking fingers. He takes her in, each scar and every wrinkle, and he aches to press his lips to them all. Amy seems to have a similar need, her fingers teasing along his bare thighs, pressing to a constellation of freckles across his skin.

They move to the bed after that and though he tries to hide it, Marcus is sure Amy can see the relief on his face when his knees hit the pillow top of his mattress. She falls back into it with her own satisfied hum, restless hands pulling him down on top of her.

“Okay, you win. Your bed is better.”

“Mmm, though I’ll admit yours has one thing mine doesn’t.”

She juts out her chin, a challenging tease in her voice. “Oh, what’s that?”

Marcus leans in closer, letting his lips graze across the beat of her heart, the pad of his thumb finding the sensitive skin just below her breast. “You.”

Her fingers thread the curls at the nape of his neck, holding him close even as she continues to tease from above. “Well I’m here now. You plan on doing anything about it?”

Marcus growls, fingers finding her ribs, laughter peeling out of her immediately. He grins at that, the darker side of him pleased how responsive she is. It only spurs him on, and soon her laughter is choking off, his lips closed around one of her nipples.

He sucks hard, feeling the bud harden beneath the flick of his tongue. Amy arches into him, fingers bruising where she holds him tight, soft gasps gifted to the ceiling above. Her other breast gets the same attention, a gentle kiss followed by a searing bite, nipping his teeth as he pulls away. He doesn’t go far, lips trailing down down down to her core, and just as promised, he presses a kiss into every dimple, every crease, each part of her that’s been hidden from him for so long bathed in his attention.

Her legs fall open for him, and Marcus wastes no time in settling between them, the tip of one finger dragging between her folds. Soaked. She’s already soaked. He tilts his gaze up, catching her eyes where she’s watching him, waiting with barely tethered anticipation. He doesn’t look away as he pushes his finger inside, watching her face break apart around the pleasure.

She’s tight, blissful heat squeezing around his finger, and he groans at the sight of her thrusting down to meet his touch. She mewls his name, hands fisting into the comforter, eyes wild and body writhing, a plea for him to move. Marcus can’t help but give her what she needs, pumping his finger in and out, a slow drag that has him aching for more.

One finger becomes two becomes three, his thumb drawing concentric circles around her clit. Amy’s cries grow louder, lips parting around the guttural sound. Marcus shushes her gently, a kiss pressed to the flush of her thigh, coaxing her through each new stretch.

“P-please…Marcus, please,” she begs, the sound more desperate as the seconds tick by.

“I’ve got you,” he echoes her sentiment from earlier, pulling his fingers slowly from inside her aching core, an indulgent kiss pressed to her clit to ease the loss.

She tastes every bit as good as he knew she would, and it takes the last of his strength to pull away, climbing up the length of Amy’s body to meet her in a searing kiss.

“Now I feel like I should say something romantic,” she teases from below him, the smile shifting into another sigh when he notches the tip of his length at her entrance.

He rests there for a moment, forearms framing her head, the tips of his fingers smoothing along her temple. She isn’t wrong. This is the moment to say something, and the words seem so obvious now that they’re here.

Love, Marcus thinks. This is love. What else could it possibly be? The way he knows her and sees her and wants her, good and bad and in between. How he can’t look away when she works, the tap of her restless fingers and the way she scratches her pen. How she takes entirely too much milk in her coffee and uses coupons to buy her daughter’s favorite cereal. The second hand records and the chipped coffee mugs and the mismatched wine glasses.

He loves her. He loves her and the time that stretches out in front of them feels like the most wonderful gift.

He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t need to. Not yet. Just the comfort of a realization is enough to bolster him. Now that they’ve finally found their way to each other, Marcus knows the rest will fall into place, as long as he’s patient the rest will come. For now he takes heart in the words in his head and the breath in her lungs, leaning down to kiss Amy with everything he has, before sliding fully inside of her.

————

Marcus. Marcus, Marcus, Marcus.

He is a steady beat inside her heart, her head, her core. Every nerve is on fire with his touch, the drag of him inside her overwhelming to the point that she can’t seem to find the words. None except for the chant of his name, a perfect match to the cadence of his hips, meeting hers again and again, pushing the pleasure deep.

It feels like they should be savoring the moment, taking their time to work towards the ever inevitable crash of ecstasy, but their bodies can’t seem to cooperate. Amy pulls Marcus in, close enough to brush her lips along the moan on his, the steady pace of their hips picking up speed.

She can feel it, racing towards them at breakneck speed, fingers clinging and lips gasping, everything too tight and too good and too soon. In her ear Marcus chants his own prayer, a plea for only her to hear begging her to hold on tight. To stay with him.

To keep her eyes open.

And when they come it’s together, somehow still together and she doesn’t look away.

————

Later, Amy wearing his shirt, Marcus only wearing his boxers, they make their way to the kitchen for the lingering promise of dinner.

“Was grilled cheese and cabernet your plan all along?” She teases from where she watches him butter bread with careful concentration.

“Only the best for my girl,” Marcus jokes, but Amy doesn’t miss the way his eyes soften and his voice strains around the last two words.

My girl.

My friend.

Mine.

----------

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!

Part 10 >>> Epilogue

#Marcus Moreno #Marcus Moreno fic #Marcus Moreno fanfic #marcus moreno x ofc #we can be heroes fic #wcbh

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amphiptere-art · 10 months

Text

All right. I'm ranting. By 100% agree with @synthcoyote on the whole ADHD moon thing.

Have ADHD. I also have autism. Now of course everyone has different kinds of ADHD and autism and it's different how much it affects people. But for me at least, ADHD Moon is stupid.

Sure with Monty it's really exaggerated ADHD. But you know it makes sense. Monty isn't impulsive he just gets sidetracked really easily. His friends are trying to talk to him about one thing he'll start talking about it then he'll get distracted by something and the friend has to redirect.

That's how ADHD works. It's not the fact that you are impulsive. It's the fact that you get distracted. Which actually comes out as being very forgetful.

You could be going up to the fridge to get some milk for some cereal. Then all the sudden your brain is wondering about cleaning out the fridge. Then your brain wanders off about some old leftovers you left in there. You then grab those leftovers to clean up the fridge. And it's not until you sit back down at the table that you realize you already had cereal in the bowl!

Moon does not act like this. They keep pressing that moons random acts are because of ADHD. But a person with ADHD can almost always tell you the line of thought that happened to make them do such a thing! With Moon it's usually "because I wanted to" or "I don't know".

Monty does actions with purpose. Sure there's a good chance he'll get distracted and start working on another project. But it's not like he started it without meaning!

Moon makes stuff, because he wants, to make a stuff. It's borderline impulsiveness. Moon fits so much better with the spectrum of autism.

Now my autism affects me less than my ADHD. So I can't count into everything that happens. But my brother has some supreme autism. And what moon does, lines up. Far better!

For some reason the Sun and Moon show has decided that ADHD is a catch all term for doing things randomly. That is not how ADHD works and it's irritating.

ADHD is when your line of thought gets interrupted by other random thoughts. You aren't just doing things because you can. You're doing things cuz in the moment it feels like you got to do it and usually it's connected to a reason. No matter how dumb or simple it is.

Moon does not have reasons for his actions. He has reasons for the satellites and reasons for other projects. But he doesn't have a reason to build a nanite vehicle. And he definitely didn't have random thought process for any of the stuff he did before!

I will admit new moon does carry some ADHD like qualities. He links together a lot of strange thoughts. But previous moon was not like this. He was never like this.

With Monty I could forgive the ADHD claim. It was exaggerated but it made sense. This is just a random claim that they're trying to force into our brains now. Just say that moon has autism!

It matches up much better and you don't even have to be particular with it! Autism is such a wide spectrum. ADHD is a much smaller spectrum with more specifics. You can label autism on something and it will make sense to at least somebody in the world. Not ADHD. I think technically ADHD is a part of the autism spectrum.

I don't know. I don't think this claim is going to change anytime soon especially since it's been mentioned in around 3 episodes. But I really wish they would redefine this. I will forgive new moon for this accusation, But for anything considering old moon it should not be brought up!

Old moon in every way had no ADHD. And I desperately wish they would stop trying to link old moon with new moons actions. They are not the same, and they do not need to be the same. Moon was reset. We do not need some useless reason to compare the new moon and the old moon. They were redoing his character for a reason! So they need to stop bringing it up!

Okay I think this rant is done. Again I blame @synthcoyote for bringing this fury to the forefront.

#I hate it when people just label something because in the moment it makes sense #ADHD equals randomness is not a thing that should ever be spoken out of anyone's mouth #we are not impulsive people.#we are simply easily sidetracked #God I got to stop texting #rant post #random rant #rant #sams rant #tsams rant #sams #tsams #sams moon #tsams moon #sams monty #tsams monty

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prosperdemeter2 · 9 months

Note

Can we get an Abby pov from glue during the dinner scene with her, Carla, Chris, Buck and Eddie? Would love to know what was going through her mind when Buck showed up with essentially a whole husband and son 😂

Zhzjzjzj pls forgive that this is like a week old 🤦‍♀️

Abby knew it was stupid of her to hope for, but she had been alone for so long and Buck was… sweet. Handsome. Kind, even. He listened when she talked, which was more than Abby could say about most people. He was young - potentially too young for her, but that was just her brother speaking and not the truth. Buck was a grown man and Abby was a grown woman and they could both make their own decisions (and if they decided to sleep together, well… Abby wouldn’t complain).

She had let Carla talk her into it, really. Abby had been more than willing to look from afar to enjoy the picture he made on the screen and fantasize about the what ifs. What’s the worst that can happen? Carla had asked and Abby… Abby had already been living her worst so she figured there wasn’t much harm in trying for something better. It was an absolute abuse of power - if Josh or Sue found out Abby could potentially lose her job - but what did she have to lose? Maybe her losing her job could be the kick in her ass that she so desperately needed to actually do something of meaning with her life. So she called him, and then she realized he was more than a pretty face and that they could, maybe, be friends with benefits.

And then he showed up to help her look for her mother and brought an entire family along with him.

Eddie Diaz had… everything that Abby wished she could have. He had the good looks, the child clinging to his neck, he kissed Buck like it was just something they always did even though Buck looked surprised at the action. He was staking a claim. Abby didn’t need it spelled out for her to notice it for what it was. It wasn’t even like Abby could blame him - Buck was attractive, funny, nice. He asked Abby about her day and genuinely listened. It wasn’t even like he had never spoken to her about his friend from the fire academy, Abby just hadn’t put…well, she hadn’t put two and two together.

If anyone asked, Buck said he was single (Abby would know, she had asked). But, even if their kiss had been (lightly) PG (lightly because Abby was most definitely sure it went on longer than it needed to and she was pretty sure there had been a brush of tongue that had made something spike in her stomach) Abby knew that look on a man’s face enough to know that there was no… no real space for her in between them.

Eddie Diaz was stupidly attractive, him and Buck made a ridiculously sweltering picture to stare at. He was a single father, a veteran, his muscles had muscles. Carla had whistled when he had stepped out of his car (and then she had awed when he opened up the backseat of his truck and pulled out his young son and a pair of bright red arm crutches) and whistled again when she saw the way he reeled Buck down by the back of his neck. He was nice too, it seemed, even when he was barely trying to keep a scowl off his face whenever Abby spoke.

They found her mother, and for that she was incredibly thankful, and the little boy - Christopher, a bright ray of sunshine compared to his father’s much more subdued clouds - grabbed her hand and asked if they were all invited to stay for dinner and Abby… Abby caved. Partially because there was still a part of her that hoped that Buck would stay the night and partially because she had stress cooked pasta earlier and Josh had told her to stop bringing her leftovers in if she was just going to forget them in the communal breakroom. “You two really didn’t have to come all the way out here to help.” Abby insisted and poured Buck a glass of wine, gesturing towards Eddie with a questioning frown on her face.

He declined with a quiet thank you and, out of the corner of her eye, she watched him watch the way Buck sipped cautiously and swallowed with a wince on his face. They ate dinner in an awkward sort of silence.

Abby had never been more thankful for her job at dispatch. It had at least given her good stories to pass the time and Buck, at least, seemed interested in them. Eddie looked like he was cataloging everything she was saying - like he was waiting for her to admit to something like gross negligence. Abby shifted in her seat and downed the rest of her wine (did he know, she wondered, just how she had gotten Buck’s number? It wasn’t like it was illegal or anything, just a… well, Abby would definitely lose her job if anyone found out but she wasn’t going to tell Sue and she was pretty sure that, even if Buck hated someone, he wasn’t going to go tattling to their boss about it). “Daddy said…” Christopher bounced on his seat in her backyard. He looked nothing like his father, Abby thought with a tilt of her head. They maybe had the same face, but his bright smile, endless energy, and curly hair all held a youth that she couldn’t see in Eddie’s face. “Daddy said that we should… should always help people when they need it.”

He spoke in broken sentences. Eddie’s hand was resting on the back of his chair, and Abby wondered, with a frown, if Eddie realized just how watched he was being. Carla was observing, although that was more Christopher than his father, and Abby was watching the way Buck watched Eddie.

It made her wistful. Just how new were they? If Abby had been just a day quicker could she have been the one to get that look for herself? That much undivided attention… Abby had felt a fraction of it. It was addictive. “Your daddy,” Carla answered. “Seems like a really smart man.” She said it pointedly, giving Abby a pointed glance as she handed Christopher a napkin. “And you must be a very brave boy to help someone out that you don’t know.”

Buck was young, Abby knew that. Twenty-six to her… forty-six. He was much too young to want children, but he looked at Christopher almost the same as he looked at his father. Like the two of them were some pipedream he still couldn’t believe he was being given. “The nurses said that… that I’m super brave.”

“The bravest.” Buck helpfully threw towards the two of them, pulling out twin smiles from both of the Diaz boys.

“The bravest.”

Abby swallowed down the way it felt like a jolt to her heart. “The nurses?” She asked in a forced light tone.

“For my surgery!” Christopher said happily.

“You must be very brave, Christopher.” Carla said with another look shooting between her and the calculating one Abby couldn’t help sending Eddie’s way. It explained the crutches, at least. Maybe even the broken sentences. Some developmental delay, although Christopher certainly seemed developed enough. “I had to get my tonsils out when I was your age and it was the scariest thing I have ever had to do.” Abby noticed the way Buck’s hand disappeared under the table, the way his arm seemed to cross around and into Eddie’s space and linger.

She didn’t know why she felt so angry, all of a sudden.

Buck had never been hers. “It’s okay to be scared.” Christopher said confidently. “Daddy says that… that… daddy, how do you say it?”

It was just that this… the family of it all, had been something that Abby had wanted for so long. She had wanted the quiet family dinners with the bubbly child. She had wanted the adoring gazes, the private looks, all of it.

And all she had was a senile mother and an ache in her chest that wouldn’t go away.

#ask tag #rewrite

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autumnalwalker · 7 months

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Snippet Share Saturday

Thank you for the tag, @late-to-the-fandom.

Passing the tag to @imbrisvastatio, @blind-the-winds, @silvertalonwritblr, @365runesoftheamalgamations, @cljordan-imperium, and an open tag for anyone else who may want to share a snippet (of any length) from your current WIP.

Here's a bit I wrote today from Empty Names. I had this idea stuck in my head of rapidly giving brief descriptions of a bunch of background characters a means of conveying the feel of a place rather than for the sake of the characters themselves being all that important to the story. Not sure how well that worked out, but it was a fun experiment nonetheless.

Later that evening, after having said goodbye to Sarah for the month, changing back into her usual red tracksuit, and calling to check in on Lacuna and Ashan, Eris is sitting on a barstool at 121813.

“Twelve eighteen thirteen” is the generally agreed upon pronunciation of the bar’s name, although what the name means is less agreed upon. The three most popular theories are that it’s either a date (usually speculated as either December of 1813), a scriptural reference (which scripture is a whole other debate), or a leftover address from before one of Crossherd’s major layout shifts. Lacuna had suggested it might be a tarot thing when Eris told her about it. The Hanged Man, the Moon, and Death. An ominous spread, according to Lacuna, but Eris figures it makes as much sense as anything else.

In any case, Fitzgerald Wilhelm von Harkenstein IV, the establishment’s clockwork owner, proprietor, and bartender always seemed to get too much of a kick out of the speculation to give a solid answer. Make what jokes you like about a bartender with no taste buds, but Fitzy had drink mixing down to an art. Then again, he claims to be at least as old as the city of Crossherd itself, so Eris figures he had plenty of time to practice if nothing else.

For over a century now, 121813 has served as the closest thing to a centralized organization for American monster hunters. Other parts of the world had holy orders, secret societies, and grand lodges stretching back generations, but in these parts everyone figured that a couple dozen thrill-seeking assholes who all frequent the same bar was good enough to get the job done. Most hunters usually work solo, but the bar is a good place to brag about kills, show off trophies, swap rumors on potential quarries, and put a band together if you get word on something really nasty.

It’s not peak hours yet and regulars are still trickling in, but there were already a few familiar faces there to greet her when she walked in twenty minutes ago.

Golden-eyed Gretchen who had taught Eris German and how to wield a spear.

Bai of the braided beard who had taken over Eris’s old garbage collecting route when she signed up with Road’s new venture and ever since has been alternating between thanking her for the job referral and complaining that he couldn’t take his axes with him on shift.

Wyatt, whose eyepatch is actually an AR visor to aim assist his crossbow and adjust for weight and aerodynamic differences on specialized bolts.

The green-haired enby twins, Loregahste and Lornega, who favor halberds and hammers respectively but both carry swords as backup sidearms.

Chuck in his ill-fitting trenchcoat, a relative newcomer to the game who’s already earning a reputation for going off on insufferable rants about the superiority of katanas.

The grim-faced Preacher, who never shares his name for fear of theft, never touches a drink that isn’t water, and never hides his disdain for everyone else’s choice of archaic weaponry for the sake of sport when guns were so much more efficient at completing the important work of slaying beasts.

Old Vic, the elven immigrant from off world who’s always down to party like the college kid his face looks the age of.

Plus a handful of others that Eris either isn’t all that close to or doesn’t recognize at a glance. High turnover rates have always been an unspoken truth amongst the monster hunter community. It’s been said that there are five fates that await hunters.

One: You die early from a stupid mistake, biting off more than you can chew, or just plain bad luck.

Two: You finally catch up with that one monster that was your reason for taking up the hunt to begin with, and if you survive you walk away, vendetta done.

Three: You have your first near-death experience, confront your mortality, and make the wise decision to get out.

Four: You have your first near-death experience, confront your mortality, and realize you’re hooked on the hunt that will surely kill you one day more than you are on living a long life.

Five: The hunt gradually becomes your whole life and personality until one day you hit a tipping point that causes autogenesis to kick into overdrive, transforming you into a monster yourself in need of putting down by your former comrades.

Everyone at the bar tonight - except maybe Chuck and the other newbies like him who still think they’re invincible - has long since made their peace with the idea that they’ll probably be dead by forty. Fifty tops. Other than Old Vic, of course, who’s at least twice that age, but rumors that he’s already secretly met the fifth fate have been flying around since before Eris ever found Crossherd and 121813. Having been on a funerary hunt with him herself and seen what a hunter consumed looks like, Eris doesn’t put any stock in that speculation.

#snippet share saturday #tag game #writeblr #my writing #writers on tumblr #writing tag games #empty names #Lacuna may or may not be right in-universe about the meaning behind the bar's name but that is the meta explanation of how I came up with i #It's also a very roundabout Bloodborne reference with all the Moon and Hanged Man imagery/motifs in that game.#Loregahste and Lornegna are based on my Bloodborne and Monster Hunter World characters respectively.#Fitzgerald Wilhelm von Harkenstein IV is very loosely inspired by vague memories an old D&D character of an old friend of mine.

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notfoundfootage · 2 years

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Routine with Brahms Heelshire

Because I'm tired and I need to feed myself some content to make me feel a little more human again.

DO NOT REPOST/PLAGIARIZE instead you can reblog and make me a little more happier today.

Minors don't interact.

A/N: Not much to warn here, mostly fluff, I put wifi in the manor because yes I can't live without it, the nanny has a notebook too. Gender neutral.

Routine:

You two still somewhat follow the schedule, but you two agreed on things that could get a little more flexible. Now "alone time" got included in the routine, for both your sakes.

He's a early bird, waking up at 7 every day. And expect him to wake you up too. You two are probably sleeping in your room, and he will cuddle in you as soon as he opens his eyes. Sometimes he'll watch you sleep beside him, and when he gets impatient and wants to rise, he'll call your name all mushy and whiny.

Helps make breakfast. Would rather cook than clean, and is actually good at it, as he probably was used to cooking for himself in the walls.

If he's feeling like it, sometimes he'll sneakly bring breakfast to your bedroom, so he can surprise you with a nice treat for once, usually this happens when he pulled a prank on you or has a prank planned.

After cleaning up, you two head to do physical exercise, wich usually consists in you two doing wathever physical activity you feel like it. I Hc that the Heelshires have a tennis court, so sometimes you'll be going there on sunny days. You two also go to the recreational room a lot to play games of pool.

You two agreed that mondays are meant to clean the house and meal prep. After exercise time, you two will go right to it.

Again, he isn't a fan of chores, and will whine and throw a tantrum if he has to do more than clean the dishes and put clothes to wash in the machine. How one person can clean a victorian manor in two and a half hours? I don't know either, so let's just think it's actually magic.

He'll stick to meal prep, wich surprinsingly, he enjoys. Prepare ingredients, cut veggies, plan the week's menu, complain that Malcolm forgot to bring something he especifically asked, put meat to marinate, he loves doing it. Years spent eating leftovers, frozen and canned food made him really value his meals. He's also becoming picky with his food, now that he has control over it, and will ask for more culinary books and better ingredients.

When you two finish up your house duties, you have lunch by noon, take a quick shower and go to his learning duties.

On not-mondays though, the two hours before lunch are spent as you two wish. Usually you two just keep playing pool or tennis, sometimes you go back to watch a movie in your notebook and trading kisses and cuddles.

By 12pm, you two eat lunch, and clean the dishes.

By 1pm, it's studying time. He usually goes off to his room in the walls to work on his personal projects while listening to music and to your voice reading to him. Sometimes he'll stick around and lay on your body while you read, or just remove the book from your hands and claim it's nap time, if he's feeling sleepy after a nice lunch.

You were hired as a nanny, or better yet, a tutor for him. So if you can teach him anything new, he'll be grateful.

He stopped the violin and piano lessons after the going into the walls, and hestill got a passion for music, he'll love to go learn more and practice freely now that he can go near the instruments again.

If you are from abroad, he'll ask to learn your language, but he's not very proficient as he is with music or crafts, even trying his best. But still, he can understand enough to understand when you cuss at him after a well pulled prank.

Hates history. It's in his schedule but hates it. Would rather go back to the walls than listen for the twentieth time the same things he already learned when he was a child. If you wanna share some morbid historical curiosity though? He's in. Probably steals your notebook to watch Ask a Mortician.

He now has access to youtube and streaming services in your notebook. Again, will steal your notebook to use them. Will buy new books for himself using your credit card. Refuses to get a kindle, he thinks it's an techonogical atrocity, would rather die than touch a kindle.

Sometimes he allows you into his room so you can watch it with him or accompany him in his artsy endeavors. If you're interested, he can teach you about taxidermy, as it's one of his hobbies. Or you two can paint and draw together.

Around 5pm, while Brahmsy keeps watching whatever he wants on your notebook, you would go out to clean and reactivate the rat traps and get the mail by 5pm. Sometimes he goes with you if he's needy, but usually he goes to prepare something for you two munch on dinner.

He adores taking hot baths at night, the feeling of soaking in the water soothing his aches and pains from the day is just perfect. If you enter the bath with him, he'll be instantly pleased and will put a shy devious grin on his face. Again, he buys bathbombs with your credit card.

Just to be safe, don't keep your credit card logged in your notebook. He's a bit of an impulsive buyer, and before you learn your lesson, he's ordering a bunch of stupid things with it. If you complain, he'll throw hands and yell that he's rich. Call him a Stinky Burgeois and he won't make food for a week, and will leave stomping complaining that "I'm not a bloody burgeois, I'm a aristocrat, and a very nice smelling one too."

Will come back for cuddles in the middle of the night. But you better pretend you're asleep or he'll go back into the walls.

By 10 at night, you two better be in bed. He doesn't care what you'll be doing in bed until you doze off, but you need to be in your pajamas, comfy under the covers. Likes to sleep in absolute dark, runs cold and will push his cold feet into your legs for warmth. During winter, he will put his cold ass hands under your clothes just to see you jump and complain. Is a light sleeper, and clings to you like you're his personal teddy bear.

Expect a tantrum if he's not the little spoon at least twice a week.

#found writes #the boy 2016 #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire hc #brahms x reader #slasher x reader

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vitanithepure · 6 months

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Ok let's talk about hypothetical ideas (because I like angst on normal level) (also sorry in advance if this will be long):

Now, we know that there is a Weave different from Mystra (Karsus Weave which Gale has to some extent) (important note: I don't know much about the Weave nor some of the D&D lore, I'm educating myself via Wiki and videos so if somehow I say potential nonsense feel free to constructively correct me). So I was wondering: if Karsus was able to create his own Weave, does that mean that someone else could very well do it again (while also learning from the mistakes Karsus did)? Maybe this Weave doesn't have to be as powerful as the Mystra's one bit still strong enough to not be fucked around (pardon my french). If there were such someone, like Tav or another origin character, how do you think Gale would react to that? I bet he would be extremely interested.

Again, sorry if this is long but I can't stop thinking about the idea of Gale finding someone with a different type of Weave (not the Shadow Weave nor malevolent, kinda like the original one but more welcoming and without presence like when you call apon Mystra's magic) (could be a conscious or unconscious reason as to why Tav/Origin Character has a whole different Weave). In short, I see great potential for this thing.

Thank you for reading this and let me know what you think!

Oh, this is a very interesting concept! Thank you so much for your time to write it down and share your thoughts! Long doesn't scare me, so also brace for logorrhea on my part, lol.

Now, let’s see. I do believe the creation of a Weave requires an immense amount of power, the kind only gods themselves possess. There is a reason Mystra holds power over her brand of magic, the Shadow Weave was created by Shar and the Karsite Weave by… well, Karsus in the brief moment he lived as a deity. I’m also no expert on the lore and what exactly is needed for the creation of an aspect of the Weave, but… that also means we can speculate a bit and have fun with the concept! :D

From my understanding of things, the Weave is loosely woven into the world, kind of present at all times, everywhere. The Shadow Weave (as per stated in the wiki) fills the holes in it, so it’s safe to assume the same goes for the Karsite one. I couldn’t find anything on it, as it probably exists just in the game lore. I think of it in terms of godly domains. Each god having to do with magic can create their own Weave, or claim what Mystra has no control of. Maybe it would even be possible to wrestle the parts she cut off from use from her? But that is kind of beyond the scope of any of the companions to do, by far, so not that relevant now :)

The fact that the Karsite Weave existed for this long, dormant, could mean it doesn’t require a deity to survive. Then again, now that it’s active, it does need to ‘feed’ on something unless kept in check by someone powerful enough. So I guess that rules out any form of Weave just…hanging there without supervision?

But I like the idea of… micro-Weaves? Like dormant leftovers from powerful archwizards? I’m sure at least some of them tried to find a way around Mystra’s ban of higher-level magic. Some research is bound to be left behind someone could use and continue the pursuit?

I don’t think I’m smart enough for this, but I’m sure Gale would know the answer :D And oh, he would be beyond interested if he could find something entirely new, a fresh brand of magic. We already see how excited he gets when finally learning he has the potential to not only carry it around but actually use the Karsite Weave.

I don’t think “don’t dabble in things you don’t understand” was the lesson Gale learned from his own experiences. It was rather “dabble in everything you find worth understanding but make sure it’s safe first” :) So he would absolutely be over the moon if he or any of the companions somehow managed to tap into the Weave from the back door so to speak or find an alternative source of arcane magic altogether!

Who knows, maybe a lucky fluke of wild magic could potentially do something like this?

And I’m choosing to believe it would be possible, it’s D&D, everything is possible if you give a good enough reason to your DM :D

#thank you so much for the ask! my imagination is running wild with it!#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #d&d

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somethingvinyl · 7 months

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Yes indeed, here we are… at Frank Zappa’s most popular album! Apostrophe was originally intended as kindof an odds-and-ends album, a bunch of leftover recordings from his current lineup going back to the 1970 sessions for a Hot Rats sequel. But Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow became an unexpected hit (though a “novelty” hit, which rankled) and drove this album to sell briskly. Side 1 is dominated by a song suite about yellow snow, an eskimo named Nanook and his baby seal, a blinded fur trapper, and a pancake breakfast from which he must steal the margarine. There’s actually a Rosetta Stone to understanding this song cycle: the 40th anniversary compilation The Crux of the Biscuit features an early live rendition with a spoken introduction in which FZ spells out not just the storyline, but also the inside jokes that led to the whole absurd piece. It definitely increased my enjoyment. Then there’s Cosmik Debris and Stinkfoot, two songs that were already live staples for the new band making their studio debuts. But I think one of the most startlingly good songs here is Uncle Remus. There are plenty of examples on other Zappa records of FZ making racial jokes he had no business making—even if not definitely racist himself, he sure as heck didn’t provide a lot of evidence to the contrary. But this song is a thoughtful exploration of the dehumanizing experience of being Black in America. Again, maybe he wasn’t the right vessel for it, but it’s a really good song. And then there’s the title track, a jam session that Jack Bruce claimed doesn’t feature his bass playing, even though it’s extremely obvious that it does.

I actually hated this album for years. As I’ve mentioned, I got into FZ through Hot Rats when I was in high school, and quickly absorbed much of the original Mothers of Invention catalog. Then a friend gave me a burned copy of Apostrophe, which I already knew from reading online was his most popular album. And it completely alienated me. The silly non-story storytelling turned me off completely. Because this was THE ‘70s Zappa album as far as I knew, I decided that I only liked his ‘60s work and didn’t explore any further. I later found my way into later Zappa by means of the Helsinki Concert from You Can’t Do That On Stage Anymore, but even as I loved Over-Nite Sensation and One Size Fits All and such, I skipped this one. Couldn’t get the bad taste out of my mouth. Finally, years later, I found a vinyl copy and decided to give it a fresh listen, and heard what everyone else loves about it. So I am no longer an Apostrophe hater. But I also never recommend it as a starting point, because I remember my own first experience of it!

I’ve actually got a quadraphonic pressing of this too… one of those things I couldn’t help but pick up when it showed up cheap. I keep it in storage. I can’t imagine a scenario where I’m actually able to listen to it…

#frank zappa #vinyl

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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changes hurt | part 8.

Summary: (Y/N) has always been one of the stronger Alphas. Which is saying something when the Avengers is a team overrun with Alphas. A mission gone wrong changes her entire world and when everyone starts treating her different, she doesn’t know if she can cope. Change hurts and (Y/N)’s not sure it’s a pain she cant bear.

Warnings for the Series: strong language, angst, fluff, assault, a/b/o dynamics, sexual content (not sure if there will be smut or just talks, leaning more to just talks but since I don’t know, let’s just say 18+ readers only)

Pairing: Steve x black!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

You had fallen asleep on Steve’s chest. He carefully moved you off of him and got up to get food, knowing you just wanted to stay in. It was a toss up between ordering takeout or cooking. Traditional values won out— it might not have been sex, but claiming was intimate and that called for some homecooked food as part of the tender aftercare.

The clatter of pots and pans was so loud that for a moment Steve was worried it would reach your floor and wake you up. While it didn’t wake you up, it did garner the attention of Bucky and Sam who were coming back from hanging out with each other. Steve heard them come in but was too focused to say a word. The other two men watched him with amused half smiles as they leaned against the counter.

“Steve making more than a grilled cheese and not burning down the kitchen? What has the world come to?” Bucky joked.

“I know this scene. No shirt, back muscles in full concentration, not bothered to tell us to shut up… Who’s the woman that put it down so good you got up to cook?” Sam piggybacked off of Bucky without missing a beat.

Both men laughed at their own comments while Steve rolled his eyes and took the rice off of the stove to drain it. The laughing stopped right away. They were staring at the two hickeys on his neck, already staring to darken. As if they didn’t want to know, Bucky and Sam took very shallow sniffs of the air. Your scent was there. And not just there on top of Steve’s scent, but mixed in with it— so subtle you wouldn’t know it was there until you sniffed for it. The telltale sign of a bond. Steve watched the water drain from the pot.

“Do you think it matters the rice is fresh? The recipe said it doesn’t fry as well,” Steve said as he started spreading the rice out to try and dry it.

“You know you could have done that in the rice cooker.”

“There’s a rice cooker?”

“(Y/N/N) keeps it on the top shelf, fourth cabinet. We also already have leftover rice.”

Steve gave Sam a questioning look and opened the fridge door. Sam’s eyes scanned the fridge until they found their target. He pointed to the large round grey-brown container. Steve held it up.

“This is butter.”

“Open it,” Sam said with a knowing look on his face.

Steve, even though he thought it was dumb, opened the container anyway. He blinked twice as if the rice would suddenly turn into butter. Looking back at the container, it was clearly labeled that it once held butter at some point. He took out the rice and placed it in the stir-fry pan before dumping the fresh rice into the butter container.

“We didn’t sleep together if that’s what you two are waiting for,” he said as he started the stove once again and poured some soy sauce over the rice.

That made Bucky and Sam surprised once again. Bonding before sex wasn’t the most common practice in modern times.

“So you’re really (Y/N)’s Alpha now?” Bucky asked.

The smile that took up the bottom half of Steve’s face was answer enough for them. He finished divvying out the rice, leaving the rest for his two friends. Grabbing water bottles and juice, Steve tucked the drinks under his arm and grabbed the bowls to head back to his room.

“If you two excuse me, I’ve got to go take care of my Omega.”

Bucky and Sam watched the man walk off with a pep in his step. Steve chuckled as he entered his room. You had turned onto your stomach— he could see your eyes were still closed— one hand blindly reaching around trying to find him. All your fingers were met with were empty sheets. You scrunched up the sheets before lifting your head, eyes still closed with a frown on your face. The clinking of bowls on the nightstand and the smell of stir-fry made you slowly open one eye. Both opened when you saw the food and Steve standing next to it.

“You cooked for me, Alpha?” you asked with a stretch and a groan.

Steve moved back on the bed and settled himself over you, using his arms to prop himself up. He pecked your lips once before going in for a deeper kiss. He could hear you call him by his presentation all day long. It was easy with Steve. Calling him by the presentation was like saying your own name, simple and rolling off the tongue with no problem. Getting off you, Steve let you sit up and handed you the fried rice.

He glanced up from his own bowl every now and then to look at you eating. Reaching out, Steve traced his thumb over your lower jaw. You looked up at him, batting eyelashes that made Steve want to pin you to the bed.

“I want to take you out tonight.”

“Steve, we don’t have to do anything special.”

“No, no I want to. In my day, that’s how we did it. Alphas always took an Omega on a date before we tried to claim them… we did it a little backwards but I still want to.”

“Okay. What do you want to do? We kind of ate already.”

You chuckled and Steve’s face tinged with red. He was doing everything in the wrong order. Even though it was just you, he was suddenly nervous— it was like meeting you for the first time all over again. He willed away the stray nerves and thought about how to take you out properly. Food was out of the question, so were arcades and laser tag— the Avengers got banned from most of them in the city on account of being too competitive. Movies were something the team did every night, not special enough.

“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”

“What are we doing? Steve?”

He wouldn’t answer. He simply got up and went to put on real clothes. You watched him for a moment. Steve was aware as he felt your eyes boring holes into his back. With a smirk, he flexed his muscles as he dug through the cabinets for a shirt. You pushed the comforter off of you and rushed to your room to change.

When you met Steve downstairs, he was leaning against his motorcycle with an extra helmet in his hand. He put it on, making sure it was secure. The motorcycle roared to life and was off without a hitch the minute Steve felt your arms wrapped around him. The drive was fast and quiet until you found yourself at the pier. Not many people were around. You took Steve’s hand in yours and the two of you began to walk around. As you turned down a path, you spotted a small sand volleyball pit— an abandoned ball right under the net.

“Want to play?”

You didn’t really give Steve a chance to say yes or no as you pulled him towards the net. Ever the gentleman, he let you serve first. Your laughs rang out as you and Steve dove for the ball, messed up serves, and tried to take out the other with way too aggressive spikes. He ducked quickly, incredulity all over his face, as he stared at the burnt ball behind him.

“I can’t believe you set it on fire!”

Your nose scrunched up in laughter. Steve ducked under the net and you started to run. You were no match for the supersoldier when he really tried. Effortlessly, Steve caught up to you and scooped you into his arms. You were spun around before being set down on the ground. Time stopped momentarily as the two of you looked at each other. You were both hyperaware of everything.

You could feel every tingle from where Steve’s fingers tapped against your waist. He could feel the weight of your hands locked around the back of his neck and the warmth of your breath as you breathed out to calm yourself. You were wondering if he could hear your heart pounding— he most definitely could. It wasn’t clear who bridged the gap first. But once you were on each other, it was a clash of lips and teeth. The only thing keeping you from tearing each other’s clothes off was the fact you were out in public. Steve gripped you tighter as you tried to pull his body closer despite the fact that you were flush against each other. When you pulled away to breathe, the air was silent but charged. Laughter broke the quiet along with a quick peck.

“Do you want to take this home?”

You couldn’t get to the motorcycle fast enough. The residential floor was surprisingly empty, not that you or Steve were complaining. Now, there was no one to ignore as you made your way to your floor with hushed giggles and heavy petting. He tried to open his room door as he had your body pressed against it, finally relenting in his touches to actually get it open.

Outer layers were shed quickly. You had seen Steve shirtless plenty of times, had even seen his boxers the few times he strolled into the kitchen without wearing any pants. But he had never seen you in underwear. Well, not lacy underwear— only the black sports bras and briefs when you had to shed your suit to get an injury fixed. He took his time and let his eyes roam your entire body. You got tired of him trying to savor the moment and practically launched yourself at him to bring his lips to yours.

The kiss became slower as you two got closer to the bed. Everything became slower. As Alphas, you and Steve had similar styles when it came to sex. With most people, it was fast and for relief. That wasn’t what either of you wanted, not in that moment. There would be plenty of times for that later. It was intimate, both of you determined to memorize every part of each other. You came down from your highs and stayed connected for a few minutes— Steve resting on top of you felt like a weighted blanket. He kissed the spot between your eyebrows before pulling out and rolling off of you. His hand brushed your fingers as you started to get up.

“You took care of me earlier, let me take care of you.”

He let you go get a towel from his bathroom. He went from a small side smile to a smirk as he watched you walk away with a little limp in your gait. The water for the tub started to run. Steve made himself useful and went to change the seats while you prepared the bath. After cleaning yourself up, you wiped down Steve and discarded the washcloth somewhere in the room. The water was filled a little too high, splashing over the sides when both of you settled in the tub.

“I want you to move in with me,” Steve said as he got out.

He grabbed the largest, fluffiest towel he owned— stolen from your linen closet— and wrapped you in it. Your faced was smothered in it as he dried you off. Steve laughed when your head popped up from under the fabric with your face scrunched up.

“What’s that face for?”

“I have the duplex suite.”

“Yeah, why is that?”

“Tony likes me better, Capsicle.”

Steve groaned at the name, barely tolerating when Tony called him that. You stuck your tongue out before your lips curled up into a devilish smile. You wrapped the towel tightly around you, tucking the ends in so it would stay up.

“I think we should have Fury change your name to Capsicle. Let’s go ask him.”

Before Steve could process, you were out the door. He had to grab a towel, giving you a headstart. He heard your feet scramble down the stairs. The team heard the laughter before they saw you. Everyone’s heads turned to see your towel get pulled back by Steve and you returned to his arms. The sight was sweet to them, especially you looking truly happy for the first time since they had learned about the dynamic change.

“We could have our own little apartment since we can’t just leave the tower if we take the duplex,” you whispered.

“Doll. As long as you’re in my bed I don’t really care which room we’re in.”

Before you two could kiss again and put on a show for the team, the elevator dinged. No one would dare come up to the residential suites so late except for two people— Nick and Sharon. And those were the exact two people that entered. The tick of Sharon’s jaw wasn’t missed as she spotted you and Steve behind the couches in just your towels but she didn’t say anything.

“Sorry to interrupt the relaxation,” Nick said as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“No you’re not,” Tony said which earned him an elbow to the rib by Nat.

“Anyway, you all have a mission. It’s going to take all night to get there. You guys leave now. Hill is loading the quinjet with coordinates, meet her in five at the helipad. And if (Y/L/N) and Captain Rogers want to find some clothes, that would be be appreciated.”

He turned and exited without another word. Sharon dropped the files on the table and waited on the couch while the team left to go change.

(Part 9)...

#alpha!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers fic #marvel fic

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