#Little Tall Island
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La Tempesta del Secolo fu ispirata a Stephen King da una foto di un uomo in una cella, suggerendo una natura malvagia; la storia si svolge su Little Tall Island, una comunità isolata nel Maine, dove gli abitanti si conoscono tutti e non ci sono mai stati delitti fino a quel momento. Il racconto esplora il lato oscuro della comunità e le scelte morali sotto pressione, con il personaggio di André Linoge che rappresenta il male.
André Linoge è un misterioso e malvagio straniero che arriva a Little Tall Island durante una tempesta e si rivela capace di manipolare gli abitanti, sfruttando i loro segreti più oscuri. Linoge dice loro "datemi ciò che voglio e me ne andrò", rivelando di desiderare uno dei bambini dell'isola per farne il suo successore; minaccia di uccidere tutti i bambini e indurre un suicidio di massa se non ottiene ciò che vuole.
Il nome Linoge in "La Tempesta del Secolo" è un anagramma di "Legione": si riferisce a un demone descritto nei vangeli; nel nuovo testamento, il demone si identifica dicendo: "Mi chiamo Legione, perché siamo in molti".
Il nome "Legione" ha una lunga storia: principalmente associato alle legioni romane, unità militari fondamentali dell'esercito romano; in latino, "legio" deriva dal verbo "legere", che significa "raccogliere": le legioni erano composte da soldati e costituivano la spina dorsale delle forze armate romane, giocando un ruolo cruciale nelle conquiste e nell'espansione dell'Impero Romano.
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Haven 1x11 The Trial of Audrey Parker (2010)
#havensyfy#haven syfy#audrey parker#emily rose#little tall island#stephen king's maine#1x11 the trial of audrey parker
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before mirage of scales: I NEED YAKUYA EVENT
after mirage of scales: ah. um. i . i don't need yakuya event so much, anymo.re... hah..a...
#ahahahahah nah i still want yakuya event#don't get me wrong#i'm glad we get to have serious event with the 😨 truths comin out#so of course i am very grateful for this...very engaging event... that made me feel things...#BUT FOR TRUESIES THEY REALLY PLAYED ME#ohhhh i was so delusional.#thinking that kuya and yakumo together would be hilarious and full of comedy and silly and goofy powerplays#no. no they only let me have a little lick of it in desert island knockout#because they were NOT GOING TO BE EXPLORED IN-DEPTH#but ohhhhh hohohoho if these two get a whole event together? with details? guess we're gonna have to go HEAVY#you wanted a funtime with yokai senior bullying his freakishly tall junior who doesn't feel senior's true malice??#no. no you get bitter elder saying a big I TOLD YOU SO to the naive younglings full of hope and watery eyes#kuya's eyes drickin dry as sahara. sand. you can HEAR the particles scrape against each other#every time he blinks and squints with extreme disdain#i'm sorry for both of you#neither of you was having a good time on that island#kuya's fists were clenched on the arms of the chair he was posed upon#man's THIS close to incinerating the entire island#and yakumo's just. yakumo.#*sits there with my yakumo doll and kuya doll just staring at each other*#the profound sadness has returned...#mirage of scales#nu carnival kuya#nu carnival yakumo#nu carnival eiden
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okay more totk rewritten/botw2 wips
bc of a whole lot of changed mechanics (too long to put on here) i wanted each layer of the map to have their own "horse" .. or at least the sky (unsure about the underground)- im very attached to the idea of there being an ancient shiekah monk thats been up there for thousands of years all alone, they are mute and an odd fellow but they would serve as your hub to register tamed birds at (since you cant just fly here (parasail + hookshot only) and replenishing stamina is also limited due to the changed healing/cooking mechanic making you unable to use potions while holding the parasail) that you can call when you are in the sky giving you a little boost in height and depending on their strength perhaps also grabbing onto you/the parasail to glide without using stamina for a very short bit
now, the thing is, i cant decide whether i want them to be a hunched over granpa or a fromsoft-esque long tall thin corpse-guy
#ganondoodles#art#zelda#ganondoodles rewrites totk#botw2#i am leaning more towards the tall one- kinda elegant but also absolutely not normal#though the idea of a little gremlin with their hat now a nest hobbling around is also very endearing ....#they are just kind chilling on their little bird island and dont really care about anything but birds#ten thousand years are a long time alone#maybe in the cutscnee first finding them they look at links prosthetic shiekah arm but other than that id say thats it#their pathway being mostly walking to different spots on the island and feeding birds or sitting down
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congratulations christopher!
self indulgent near-future in which when christopher graduates high school buck n eddie take hiim to hawaii to celebrate and they all have a nice vacation over here. friend n i were brainrotting it a bit and we decided buck definitely hyperfixated on hawaii and stuff (history, nature, geography, mythology, etc)
#buddie#christopher diaz#eddie diaz#evan buckley#911 abc#mustasekittens#i still struggle drawing all 3 of them its a nightmare#anyways gavin is getting really tall and i thought it would be kinda funny if he was almost taller than eddie once he's an adult#my friend and i expanded on buck's hawaii hyperfixation so there's def gonna be a short comic to follow this up LOL#the lei christopher is wearing is called a maile lei#theyre usually worn by men but anyone can wear a maile :]#maile lei are usually worn at grads/proms/weddings or just cuz!#buddie are married at this point. (wink wink. bucks ring. wink)#i shouldve made buck more sunburned#idk if people even read tags this far but anyways more little details#also idk smth smth buck wearing yellow eddie wearing blue n chris wearing green (although not exactly) bc theyre a weird blended family#the brand of shirts the 3 of them r wearing is called sig zane and its a local (fancy) aloha wear brand here! its based in hilo!!#my local friend who's from big island brought it up to me and i remembered it existed#i see people wear sig zane all the time here on oahu but i am so shit at remembering names. that is extended to clothing brands LMFAO#what i mean by fancy aloha wear i mean these fucking shirts cost upwards of $130-145 EACH.#and they are fucking BEAUTIFUL.#i did take some liberties with the designs for the 3 of them tho#buck and christopher's are almost directly referencing existing designs from their catalogue while i smplified one for eddie's#christopher's is an ulu (breadfruit) pattern and i kinda ate that ngl#i was originally gonna just use some stamp brushes i found on the csp asset store but they looked so tacky i just decided to draw them LOL#anyways enjoy this self indulgent stupid stuff who cares anymore
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Islands of Abandonment - Cal Flyn
Recently read this book on the near miraculous proliferation of life and biodiversity in post-human landscapes, and what a fantastic book it was. This was very much in the vein of Macfarlane's Underland (both being prone to wax poetic on unconventional landscapes) but more, somehow. I'm not sure I can articulate it well – perhaps it was the choice in the unconventional landscape which predisposes the reader to its inherited stakes, or lack thereof; or perhaps it was the direct, clear cut message this book had, that Underland maybe lacked in – but this felt infinitely more personal. I enjoyed Underland; I enjoyed Macfarlane's writing and his infectious awe with the landscapes around him – I thought he painted a beautiful, unsettling picture of the underworld, but it was his awe at the end of the day and not my own. Flyn, however, tells you exactly what she argues for in her book, and I'll be damned if I wasn't sold right there and then:
The idea that 'knowledge deepens with appreciation' and that aestheticism can be taught is so extremely crucial. You have to fall in love with your environment to understand it. You have to understand it in order to save it (if, indeed, it needs saving of the human kind). And this gold mine of a book takes these forgotten, unpleasant landscapes and makes you love them – practicing precisely what it preaches.
(Perhaps this struck so deeply because I was so sheltered a city kid who then went on to geologise, and went on to find out just how much you can learn from simple observation and the scientific process. How little I knew before, how little I still know – how little everyone else knows, and how difficult a task it is to invoke any response besides the unabiding blankness that is the death-knell to all educators – to apply the term liberally. It's something that I quite desperately want to cultivate, this awareness of the environment around me; I want to train myself to love the things that previously held neither appeal nor interest to me, because not so long ago I was that blank and disconnected. It's why iNaturalist was such a revelation to me. This book was another, I think).
#cal flynn#islands of abandonment#we are so very disconnected from even the bare bones of our environment. there's only so much an educator can do for that#it's so much easier to cultivate what already exists than to start from scratch. individual responsibility to Care - just a little#had a friend doing a volcanology internship in Japan and was asked in circles outside of the geology dept where the volcanoes were!#by people who had lived near the tall pointy mountains all their lives and yet never once thought to ask: what is that?#representative of most people everywhere tbh. like a societal lack of awareness re what happens when you live on a floodplain#(note I literally only have geological examples because I distinctly lack awareness in anything else. complicit also)#feel like the safety net of modern day science and stem has really lowered risk perception. the solutions you think exist do not#butterflies disappearing and hunger stones in rivers and your ancestors would have freaked. maybe given the state of things so too should w#quote and quoth
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Last night's Dream Creature! I've been seeing more since I started drawing them haha. They wanna be seen.
She was described as a wooden construct in the dream, and I named her 'GG' but in the dream I'd noted that she didn't even seem to be made of wood?? Like that fluff is definitely not wood.
Either way her full name is 'GG the Wooden'. In the Dream Island setting I imagine the Sunset Quartz Queen recruits her to be a bodyguard/babysitter for Princess.
#Dream Creature#Dream Island#Doodles#She's about as tall as an average person? Little shorter than that#Idk how smart she is but I don't think she talks#Either way she's artificial in origin
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me at the lake today looking for water bugs/critters because thats what i enjoy doing most and only after i got home did i realize ... omg.... thats so g.uzmacore..... HFDSJKL
#he lives on a tropical island w so many beaches and he loves bugs. that mfer would love looking for water critters with me !!!!!!#i saw a really weird one though i've literally never seen anything like it#idk how to even begin IDing it fdsjkl#it was like. tube shaped. and mottled? and was crawling along a stick with one end of the tube body#and at the other end it was somehow gripping a little plant stalk or smth#unless the plant stalk was actually part of its body. IT WAS SO WILD.#and it was like. only a centimetre long/tall. maybe 2 cms#SO FUNKY. i was fascinated fdsjkl i wish i'd been able to watch it longer#also i found some cool snail shells and a spiral cone shaped shell!! i didnt know we had spiral cones around here!!#i left all of them there ofc bc theyre good for calcium for wildlife+environment and for some critters to make homes inside of :3#dandy.cmd
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dubious little creatures getting into mischief
aka my versions of jim hawkins and john silver ^_^
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crucial part of legend of zelda: tears of the kingdom's enduring appeal for me is that every once in a while my partner will come sit down while I'm playing and I'll stop whatever I'm doing in game to tell her my opinions about Link outfits and we'll both do bits where Link interacts with NPCs in increasingly ridiculous outfits.
#running up to NPCs in the monster masks while L and I do voices like 'look at me. look how tall I am. I am not a little boy'#we both have questions for the person who designed the Miner's Armor bc there's uhhhhh a lot going on there#'the Naydra fit is pretty good because of the cut-out back and the painted nails... but the Dinraal one makes me feel like Zuko'#partner: active listening noises#'however- if you combine the Naydra pants with the island shirt you can make Link look like a white mom on a cruise which is pretty good'#*combines Ravio's Hood + Phantom Armor + no pants as L cackles in delight* 'this is an outfit I like to call Top! Heavy!'#my nonsense#nat is bad at video games
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i am a 21 year old teenager and i do not understand visas or airplanes or airports or the japanese language or how to read a email. but i stay silly
#brother there are 2 airports in the prefecture of nagoya. i just learned this#there was a disaster earlier where i had booked flights for the 7th of sept but the dorms only opened on the 11th (nice) so i was like waa#i have to chose between changing my flights (expensive) or an airbnb (expensive). landed on bnb. 3 days in the big apple for little joey(me#and the only way TO the uni is from a bus from da airport to da dorms. that i guess theyre picking only me up with ?#cuz like who else is coming#no bady. i thank#anyway i was like 'stupid that i have to go from the airport to the air bnb and then back and then to the dorms'#but it turns out it worked out great because i go from the airport to the air bnb to the OTHER airport. and then to the dorms#so. thats awesome#and before u ask no there was not an option to go to the other airport when booking tickers.#because the other one is an international airport. and im going to haneda int in tokyo and then from there to nagoya. fuck me.#why are there multiple international airports. i dont understand. im from tiny island with one airport. my city is 4 blocks long and i am#3 apples tall#^haha apple ilse joke. man ill miss the apples down here japanese apples suuuck#taste like water
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new neighbor!simon riley whom you bring cookies to as a way to welcome him to the neighborhood, so naturally he has to pay you back, right?
you'd seen the moving trucks pull up at the little house next door, peering through the frilly curtains that frame your window, pulling back the blinds to peek through the cracks at who this new neighbor is.
you couldn't get much of a glimpse, though you saw the tall, looming stature dressed in a dark void for clothes, and a mask over his head that made your tummy writhe with unease.
nonetheless, you turned to your kitchen and decided you'd make a housewarming gift. it was the nice thing to do after all!
so with a warmed plate of fresh cookies in your palms, you tediously stepped down the stones from your little abode to the sidewalk between yours and his new house. your shoes padded along the concrete before approaching his door.
a tender fist knocked knuckles against the firm door, an innocent glint in your eyes as you patiently waited for the man to open the door.
simon wasn't expecting anyone, hell, he hadn't even told anyone he had moved. his ears perked at the shallow knock, his socked feet padding against the wooden floors before peeking in the little peephole.
last thing he was expecting was a sweet little thing such as yourself to be waiting for a brute like him to answer the door, but he didn't want to keep you waiting much longer now.
with a creak, the door opened and revealed his daunting figure that towered over you. you felt his shadow cover you as you look up to him, mumbling a few measly words welcoming him to the neighborhood.
his face, more like his eyes, were stoic, but you noticed a slight crinkle in his skin, the mask shifting ever so slightly as a gruff voice responded to your words, "thanks, luv', why don'ya c'mon in?" he offered.
because the least he could do is invite you in for a cuppa, sit down and chat while you shared the plate of cookies over the island in the kitchen, right?
it felt sinful, leading a little doll like doe into his house, the door slowly creaking shut with a slight push. nonetheless, a large hand splayed across your lower back to guide you to the empty kitchen, boxes scattered along the floors.
your hands gripped the edge of the island tightly, your knuckles turning white as you bite back soft mewls. simon was kneeled, a hand pressing down on your back to keep your stomach against the counter, face buried in your sopping cunt. its compensation, lovie!
he groaned, slick drooling down his chin, nose buried in your pussy. the warm of his breath caused goosebumps to rise along your skin, his other hand full of fatty flesh from your plush rear, pulling the muscle aside to allow himself access to your sweet, drooling pussy.
you were so sweet, just like heaven, how could he refuse! besides, you were dripping for him anyways.
his lips latched to your folds, slurping up your slick with lewd squelches, teeth grazing your clit with soft nips as his tongue pushed past your walls.
your spongy walls contorted around the pink muscle as he coated your pussy in saliva, mumbling almost incoherently, "fuck, s'sweet, luvie. tastier than the damn sweets."
your knees trembled, buckling because of the pleasure as your walls pulsed around his tongue. a convulsing pattern as the heat in your tummy built with rising anticipation of ecstasy. your hips squirmed under him, but his strong hands manhandled you to how he wanted.
come on, lovie, you'll learn he needs quite a few sweets after having been deprived of them so long.
he'll take care of you, wipe you clean with a damp washcloth and throw a warm, definitely too big shirt fresh from the dryer over your body and convince you to stay the night.
give him your key to get your stuff, lovie! but don't question how he managed to get a copy so quick.
#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost fluff#simon ghost riley x you#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley imagine#ghost mw2#ghost simon riley#cod modern warfare#cod x reader#cod#cod mwii#cod mw2#call of duty#ghost smut#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost smut#simon ghost x you#simon riley cod#simon x reader#simon riley x afab reader#simon riley x female reader
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better leave your man at home!



mini stories of vi, sevika, abby, and ellie showing you your true worth.
wc : 7.306
contains : sfw and nsfw. fxf. fem!reader. cheating on the men's part until ellie's part lol. ellie’s is a modern!au the rest are in canon. mentions of violence and alcohol. silco but he's chill. owen but he's not chill. reader can be interpreted as bi or comphet i think!
a/n : ladies if you're reading this...cheat on him. or cheat back. yknow what just leave him.
VIOLET ꨄ
ʚɞ ever since getting out of prison and restarting her life, vi had been looking for a new purpose.
ʚɞ she had found a solid job, managed to reconnect with wither last siblings left alive, and started to build up a life for herself, but still, she felt...aimless. she longed for a deeper connection than the ones she had, someone she could yet again.
ʚɞ and then she meets you, a sweet little store owner with a voice that sounds like a symphony and an attitude as sweet as cookies. the first time she even met you she bumped into you on the street outside your bakery, knocking you supplies for your treats all over the ground. she's expecting that usual zaunite 'watch where you're going!' but instead you tell her not to worry, that you were carrying too many things anyway.
ʚɞ it was almost instinct for her to assure you she was at fault, downright demanding she help you carry everything that dropped inside and that it was the least she could do. you call her a sweetheart and tell her if she does you'll send her home with a plate of her favorite dessert. how could she say no?
ʚɞ she cant help but to quickly hang out with you whenever she can. after her shifts she stops by to help you close up, telling you its the least she could do for someone who was oh-so sweet. you seem to welcome her affections, whispering one late night when making some extra batter that you always appreciate when she stops by. she goes home on a high that night.
ʚɞ but then the worst thing ever happens. you get a boyfriend.
ʚɞ apparently he's some old family friend who moved back to the city when he found a small fortune overseas and was ready to come back to 'win you over like he tried years ago'. you told the story with a slightly wistful voice but all vi could do was nod along with wide eyes and a shut mouth.
ʚɞ eventually, she meets the guy, a tall and rather weasly looking guy who was waiting impatiently outside the store. she gave him a simple greeting and all he could do was tilt his head in recognition that she was there, apparently. she passed him and went to the back of the store and asked you what he was doing standing outside looking all suspicious. her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when you told her he was waiting to take you out but had to stand outside because he couldn't stand the smell of bread.
ʚɞ yeah, this definitely wasn't gonna last long. she’d just have to get you to see that.
ʚɞ sadly, she didn't have to do much work. ton a sunny day when the two of you were walking through the upper city levels together you stopped in your tracks, a talking vi whose arm was wrapped with yours questioning what made you stop before following your eyesight to see your boyfriend in the arms of another woman, way too close for comfort. vi wanted nothing more in that moment than to go and knock the bastard's lights out, but she had to prioritize you first.
ʚɞ you go into a depression for a week, your shop closed and your apartment locked as you skulk and cry in your home. but thankfully you gave vi a key not too long into your friendship, and she wakes you up one afternoon and demands you go and clean yourself up while she takes care of your chores.
ʚɞ you come out of the shower feeling rejuvenated and refreshed, your mood only lifting higher at the smell of cookies in the air. you pad out to the kitchen and cant help but smile when you see vi standing with a tray of perfectly made chocolate chip cookies on the island counter.
ʚɞ you sit up on your counter and moan at the taste of the cookies, vi accepting your praise of her baking skills with pride as she rubs over your bare thighs. eventually the topic steers to your recent heartbreak and vi makes sure you can complain and vent to her all you want.
ʚɞ but the last thing she wants to hear is you blaming yourself, teary-eyed and mumbling about how maybe you were too overbearing in your affections. she gently but sternly brings your attention to her, making sure you look her in the eyes when she goes on about how you’re the nicest and most soft-natured person she’s ever known and he was a fool to not see what an amazing woman he had in front of him.
ʚɞ and you cant help but feel even worse at the clear effect her affection has on you, unconsciously biting her lip at her praise and closeness. her eyes dart down to your lips and back to your eyes, slowly inching her head forward for permission. as soon as you slightly nod your head she’s kissing you with months of pent-up adoration, warmth, and lust.
ʚɞ a small part of you feels guilty for moving on to your close friend only a week after you broke up with your boyfriend, but when her fingers are drifting down to your cunt and making you cry as you cum over and over again, you can't find it in you to care.
ʚɞ “he was an idiot to give up on someone as sweet as you. but down worry muffin, i’m not gonna take that chance.”
SEVIKA ꨄ
ʚɞ sevika had made a promise to herself years ago: don't mess with married women.
ʚɞ she could give herself some grace, she was young and dumb, and the woman was incredibly gorgeous. and when a woman with legs that could bring any person woman or man to their knees comes up to you and asks you your plans for the night, you cant exactly pass up the opportunity. though she wishes she did after her partner caught them together in bed and she got in one of the worst fights of her life.
ʚɞ but she had to admit things in her life were getting a bit…stale, to say the least. her schedule was a steady routine of doing tasks for silco, reeling in jinx, and keeping the last drop working like a well-oiled machine. she didn't want anything drastic that would screw up their plans to happen, just…something.
ʚɞ and oh, does she get it. some out of towner got too rowdy in the bar and started a bar fight and before she could come in and get things under control theirams leg gets broken. so now she’s tasked with finding a good enough replacement to cover him for the few months it gets healed since he for some reason couldn't just take a shimmer dose and get back on his feet in no time.
ʚɞ she goes through dozens of recruits, all either too disobedient or downright atrocious behind a bar. she’s just about to give up and force one of the goons to do it when you come through the door. you’re rather unassuming, and at first she things you’re joking until you travel behind the bar and instruct her to give you any drink and you can make it. after ten different drinks she’s more than convinced.
ʚɞ she doesn't talk to you much at first, you’re just another cog in the machine that keeps the enterprise running smoothly. obviously she’s noticed that you’re attractive, surrounded by a stern but easy-going aura that makes most customers sit and want to talk to you for hours on end. it amused her when she watched how you convinced three different patrons to buy some more drinks so you’d continue telling them a wild story of some adventure you apparently had in bilgewater years back.
ʚɞ she can't help but ask you if its true later when the bar is closing and you’re wiping everything down, rolling her eyes when you call her out for listening to your conversations. you reveal that all your stories of adventure and excitement are true, but that you gave that life up when you decided to settle down after you get married.
ʚɞ she scoffs that the woman you married must be a hell of a catch to get you to leave behind such an exciting life, and she sees your eyes drop when you reveal that life with your husband is a nice and quiet alternative to your days of danger. sevika’s always had a good poker face, and she’s really glad she has it now after hearing you gave up all of that for a guy. and that her gaydar was apparently wrong, which never happens.
ʚɞ but its almost like this is the challenge her mind has been looking for, because after that conversation she keeps having late-night talks with you when no one else is around. you’re disarmingly easy to talk to, able to show a compassion and understanding that isn’t common for the folks down here. its only a few hours after she gets a bit too tipsy and accidentally lets slip a story about her upbringing that she lays in bed and slaps her human hand to her forehead in frustration when instead of being embarrassed all she can think about is your soft hand gently rubbing her shoulder as she poured her heart out.
ʚɞ she is so screwed.
ʚɞ eventually, you draw silco’s attention. mostly because the profits from the bar have nearly doubled since you started working, partly because he can tell a certain someone is distracting sevika. he gave her a list of tasks one day that he could tell she hated doing and she went off with a nod and without a word, and she either had a new woman in her life or she was about to snap. he made sure to find out about you a few minutes later, and asked/demanded to know more about your life. in particular, any outside connections you had.
ʚɞ sevika doesn't know whether she wants to thank silco or kill him when you’re given a more permanent position at the bar and finally introduce the crew to your husband, a man who silco has apparently given a job in his booking department. when sevika pulls him aside later to ask why he would od something like that, he just. shrugs. silco never just shrugs.
ʚɞ now that you’ve basically part of their little crime family it's even easier for sevika to spend more time with you. unfortunately for you jinx has taken a liking to you, but you handle it well and always make sure to give the girl her favorite drink in her favorite cup whenever she stops in the bar to babble on about some new weapon of mayhem she’s decided to make.
ʚɞ but after a few weeks she notices your mood start to sour, how you start getting snippy with some of the more rowdy drunks who stumble through the bar. she catches you a few hours after closing sat behind the bar with a half drunken bottle in your hand and mascara running down your cheeks. normally if this was anyone else she’d scoff to herself and quickly make her exit but instead she plops herself down next to you and demands you tell her what's wrong. through hiccups and tears, you tell her that you’re pretty sure your husband is lying to you. about a lot. in particular about where he spends his nights and comes back grumbling about ‘unfair bets’ and losing cash.
ʚɞ sevika assures you she’ll get to the bottom of it, and it only takes her a few hours of trailing thee guy to find out the problem. it seems your betrothed has been gambling your money away in seedy gambling circles, with some guys she swore she told to cut it out months ago when it came to rigging their dice when playing with tourists. but the amounts he’s using are definitely more than what either of you are making on a salary.
ʚɞ she tries not to smile when she picks the excuse of a man up by the back of his neck with her mech hand, reveling in the horrified look on his face as he makes up excuse after excuse for why he’s been stealing money from you and the boss, that he swears he’ll make it back up to silco-
ʚɞ you come in the next day as confused as ever, whispering that your husband packed up his things in the middle of the night and disappeared. sevika sits you down and explains that your husband was a thief, stealing hundreds from silco rather sloppily under his nose, and was dealt with in a timely manner. but she assures you that you won't be affected by any debts he may have had, she’ll make sure of it and make sure none of those gamblers come after you.
ʚɞ you only grow closer and closer after that night, and its no surprise you start to catch feelings for the gorgeous woman who constantly makes sure you’re safe and protected. its on one of the bars rather more exciting nights that you relent and play a drinking game with some members of the crew, and in a moment of weakness accidentally admit that since your husband left you haven't been laid in weeks, and in an additional moment of weakness admit that the first person you’d like to rock your world would be none other than silco’s second hand.
ʚɞ it was just your luck that the woman was walking by when the words left your lips, and fueled by her own dose of liquid courage came up behind you and whispered that she was free at that moment.
ʚɞ you expected many things when you settled down in zaun, and getting bent in half for hours on end by the second in command to the rule of the underground was not one of them. but when sevika groans in your ear and moans about how you have the tightest pussy she’s ever had the pleasure of taking, you’re really glad it happened to you.
ʚɞ “god, i’m really not gonna be able to stay away from you now. promise that the next time you get married you’re not gonna have to worry about being disappointed ever again.”
ʚɞ (when sevika walks in the next morning with a rare smile on her face silco does admit that he hired your husband knowing he’d be an idiot that she’d have to get rid of. you’re welcome.)
ABBY ꨄ
ʚɞ abby never saw herself as a jealous person. she’d only been in one relationship before, and even though it ended rather sourly she knew it was only natural that they’d both eventually move on. but when she sees you, a new wlf recruit walking and smiling side by side with owen, she feels…weird. really weird.
ʚɞ she does feel bad that as soon as he introduces you all to the group at a small party thrown by some of the soldiers all she can manage is tight-lipped smile and a small wave. you visibly deflate and smile it off, immediately pulled away by nora and leah to grab some drinks. manny butts her shoulder with his, giving her that ‘what the hell?’ look he loves to do. she defensively apologizes, because how should she react? her ex-boyfriend clearly has a thing for you, is she supposed to be all buddy buddy with you?
ʚɞ it doesn't help that its clear to everyone that you’re pretty. like, weirdly pretty for someone in the middle of an apocalyptic setting. crystal clear skin, smooth lips, and eyes of a beautiful shade. she caught herself staring once in the gym as you laughed with one of the trainers and had to quickly get herself together.
ʚɞ isaac must be playing a sick game because you then get assigned to go with her on patrol. she initially resented, questioning why you were tagging along when you mostly worked with the medics and mel was already trailing along. he said that apparently you had asked for the chance to get some more field practice and left it at that, dismissing her with a wave.
ʚɞ she was quiet for most of the ride to the patrol spot, hands tight on the steering wheel as you sat in the back of the truck with the others in the group and laughed at some story one the guys was talking about.
ʚɞ god, even your laugh is cute, she thinks as she carefully maneuvers the truck around a downed tree. youre like if a dream girl was placed down in this wasteland to torture her, a giant sign to tell her of course owen went after you, you were perfect. more perfect than she could be.
ʚɞ it isnt helpful that shes left partnered with you as you clear out the abandoned store in the strip mall they've all been sent to check and re-clear the spaces if necessary. she finds herself frustrated when you very reasonably and very smartly stick to her side the whole time. she swears she almost trips over an overgrown branch when she catches a whiff of your soap and she doesnt know where the hell you managed to snag vanilla flavored anything.
ʚɞ everything is fine for a while. you both remain vigilant as you walk through the barely lit aisles of the department store, the only action when a clicker jumps up out of nowhere and nearly tackled you before she’s roughly pushing you out of the way and kicking out its knees before bashing in its head with her boot. she’s panting and catching her breath before roughly asking if you were alright and reminding you to stay vigilant, taking your wide eyed stare for shock at a close encounter to what would be a rather painful death.
ʚɞ but despite her rather abrasive attitude you try your best to be friendly with her. you reveal that owen did confide about their past relationship, and as awkward as the situation sometimes was you wouldn’t let it drive a wedge between you, that you in fact wanted to be friends with abby. you had heard a great many things about her, how she was a loyal friend, a courageous leader, clearly an incredibly strong soldier-
ʚɞ her brain. short circuits a bit. the way you called her strong, like it was fact that was so obvious that she’d already proven it to you just by being out here. sure she’d pushed you of out the trajectory of that clicker but that was normal, anyone should and would do the same. she realizes you wouldn’t get the chance to see any displays of strength like that back in the base save for the visits to the gym, and a foreign voice in her head laments what a shame that is.
ʚɞ she doesn’t realize until a day later just how screwed she is.
ʚɞ whatever weird…feelings she has for you don’t even get a chance to go away or settle, just fester and multiply with your constant presence. where abby is her friends are close by, and that now includes you. at small get togethers, shared gym workouts, breakfast lunch and dinner hangouts, you’re always there with a bright smile and a warm greeting for her. she thinks she’s hiding whatever it is she’s hiding pretty well until nora pulls her to the side and asks why she just keeps staring at you whenever you’re around, that she understand there might be some lingering feelings of jealousy and resentment towards owen but that’s no reason to treat you rudely.
ʚɞ abby stumbles over her words, insisting that she’s not treating you rudely, that’s the last thing she would want to do. who would ever do that to someone as nice and sweet and gorgeous as you? she ends her mini explanation with a stiff chuckle and looks at nora who’s now staring at her with an open mouth and a flabbergasted look on her face.
ʚɞ so it’s clear that abby likes you. she doesn’t know how to grapple with the fact, and decides its best to just deal with it privately and wait for it to just pass as most things do. the only person who knows is nora, who after not talking to her for a few hours after their last encounter came back to abby’s room to apologize for walking out on her in a moment where they so clearly needed to talk more about what was just revealed. she assures abby that she’ll help her through this but it’s very confusing to herself as well. it’s not every day you have to deal with your best friend falling in love with her boyfriends new girlfriend.
ʚɞ she doesn’t agree with abby’s method, frequently telling her that dealing with this in private will only have the opposite effect. and just like normally she’s right, abby’s increased attempt at distance from you only peaks your worry and drives you to constantly check in on her to make sure she’s okay. one day you come by her room after one of your workouts, and the sight of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat in shorts and a tank asking her sweetly if she’s feeling okay and if she’d like to join you for lunch let’s her know for sure that she really can’t do this for much longer.
ʚɞ so she’s tries her best to try a different approach : exposure therapy. as bad as it sounds, she’s sure once she starts spending more time with you she’ll realize you aren’t some mythical girl of of her dreams and are just a normal person who’s dating her ex and who she can totally just be normal friends with. she comes up to you in the halls a few days later and asks if you’d like her to help you train for more field work and you beam up at her before wrapping your arms around her neck and thanking her a multitude of times before composing yourself. you go one about how you were so eager to prove yourself and you’d do no better than to have the abby anderson teaching you the basics. she zoned out as soon as she felt your skin against the back of her neck, nodding along to all of your words with a doe-eyed blank look.
ʚɞ it’s really nice bonding with you over the course of a few short weeks. you quickly pick up on the things she teaches you, and whatever you don’t she’s more than eager to help you learn. she hates to admit it but her conscious cheered a little bit when you told her you needed help aiming one of the bigger rifles, and it nearly screamed when she got to place herself behind you and helped you aim at the target practice. maybe she’s a bit delusional at this point but she swears she felt your body relax into hers, felt your breath stutter just a bit when her chest met your back.
ʚɞ and she knows it’s serious when she trusts you enough to share her space in the library. it’s a night when manny has a girl over so she’s in her usual cozy spot surrounded by the book shelves when she shears your gentle footsteps and call of her name, remarking that you initially went to the room out of loneliness about owen being gone for the night but came here when a breathless and shirtless manny told you her usual sleepover spot. she invites you to settle in with her in her heap of old blankets surrounded by dusty novels, trying her best to remain calm when you lean your head on her shoulders and insisted she keep reading her current book aloud.
ʚɞ she wakes up to the early morning light with her head rested on top of yours, snuggled up to battle the chill of the stadium air and your hand clamped around her arm. when she looks down at your face and wishes she could see you like this every day she realizes that she is really, really screwed.
ʚɞ luckily she doesn’t have to wait long to see you like that again. well, the circumstances are rather horrid. yet another soldier was having small secret party ok one of the larger stadium dorms and you were glued to abby’s side. everyone besides nora was confused but happy that the two of you seemed to be getting along so well, and nora herself kept giving abby looks that were a mixture between pity, worry, and just a bit of ‘you need to just get this off of your chest to anyone else but me’ annoyance.
ʚɞ abby was your designated drink manager, constantly making sure you weren’t too drunk and were drinking enough water to stave off any of the negative effects of the smuggled in alcohol they brought in for the party. you’re both sitting on one of the couches and observing the party when you make an off handed comment about not seeing owen for a while and abby decides to sit you down snuggly on the couch while she goes to look for him to appease your tipsy haze. her search leads her down the hallway, and it’s only when she hears an object drop in a nearby maintenance closet does she find out the truth.
ʚɞ she whips open the door to see owen and mel in a rather…well, let’s just say a really lewd position. in the midst of being disgusted and infuriated she finds a bit of amusement at mousy mel of all people doing a drunken hookup in a dingy closet. owen hurriedly tries to fix himself and his pants, insisting to abby that it’s not what it looks like, and suddenly his eyes lock on an object behind her and she turns around to see you, teary eyed and clearly betrayed before you silently stoop off to the direction of your own room.
ʚɞ abby is normally a calm person. as a soldier she isn’t afforded the luxury to let her emotions get the better of her in moments of stress. but seeing you with tears in your eyes and a wobbly lip makes her wish she broke owen’s nose on the spot. collecting all of her composure, she slaws the closet door in his face and quickly runs after you.
ʚɞ she quickly chases after you, making her way down the stadium halls until she finds your bedroom door agape, quickly knocking and entering when she hears your quiet cry demanding owen leave. she makes sure to announce who she is once she settles in beside you on your bed, gently extending her hands to make sure shes allowed to physically comfort you before pulling you into a tight hug once you let her know it’s okay.
ʚɞ she had again struggles to keep her composure when you cry into her shoulder, not minding the tears staining her t-shirt when she hears you weep about what a fool you wer, how you were such an idiot to believe that someone like him could truly care about you.
ʚɞ in the morning, she can blame the weeks of pent up feelings, or maybe the cup of beer she had an hour before, but she can’t stop herself from grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards her, commanding your attention before she reveals that should’ve warned you about owen earlier, that she should’ve known he would take advantage of someone with as sweet a nature as you. She’s always known he was a fool, but to ruin his chances of someone like you is the dumbest thing he ever could’ve done.
ʚɞ when you sniffle and look up at her with those shiny eyes and puffy lips and ask her if that’s true she feels her composed facade slipping, hands shaky as she reaches up to wipe your tears away before letting her palm letting her fingers trail down your face, biting her lip when she sees your eyelids flutter closer when her hands start to ghost down your neck.
ʚɞ she doesn’t feel sorry when she watches you take off your top, doesn’t feel guilt when she pushes you down to the bed and lets her lips bite and kiss from your neck to her chest and draw out all manners of whines and gasps from your throat. and when she feels your hips lift up and grind into her crotch, when her hands attach themselves to your hips and forces you to bring yourself to an orgasm in your pants, she doesn’t give a shit how it’ll seem when she parades you around the stadium tomorrow.
ʚɞ manny and nora are open mouthed and shocked when you walk hand in hand into the cafeteria the next morning, both starry eyed and covered in love bites as you sit together nearly attached at the hip. when owen walks in a few minutes later and quickly storms out after seeing the two of you, abby can’t help but shrug when manny asked her what the hell is going on.
ʚɞ “owen had his chance, and he should learn that jealously is a monster.”
ELLIE ꨄ
ʚɞ in moments like these ellie remembers laughing at how her fellow lesbians would fall for their straight friends in middle and high school and end up with broken hearts and broken friendships. and now as she sits across from you and listens to you lament about your boyfriend, she realizes that karma is real and she is totally a bitch.
ʚɞ truly, she has no one to blame, but herself the moment she saw you walk into the record store she worked at she knew that this would only lead to trouble for herself. It was obvious to Dina, who lightly pushed his shoulder and told her to stop drooling and to focus on her work and not fall into another relationship so soon after her catastrophic breakup with cat. she had rolled her eyes at the brunette and assured her nothing would happen, that she’d politely introduce herself, help you buy a product, and never think about or see you again.
ʚɞ god, what an idiot she was.
ʚɞ as soon as she introduced herself, you complemented her tattoo, mention that you had wanted one but were too indecisive about a design and placement. before she can even think of what she wants to say she’s telling you that wouldn’t mind hooking you up with her tattoo artist who could help you decide what you wanted. hell, she wouldn’t mind helping you decide what kind of vibe you were going for when it came to the body art and where exactly on your body would be best to showcase it.
ʚɞ you’re beaming up at her and thanking her, telling her that she really is just too kind. she’s even kinder when she continues to talk to you as she helps you look through the store, helping you decide which record would be best for your collection.
ʚɞ and helping you pick out another record as a gift. for your boyfriend. she can hear dina snicker at the counter all the way from three aisles away, passing it off as allergies when you turn to look at her.
ʚɞ but it’s not like she’s gonna fall for you. she gives you her number, but that’s because she already promised she’d help you with the tattoo stuff. and sure she talks with you for hours the following week and even goes with you to the parlor for moral support, but that’s because she’s a good person! and you even told her she’s a great friend for helping you with this! she’s just being friendly.
ʚɞ soon enough she basically becomes your new best friend. she doesn’t know how it happened really, somewhere between helping you when your car broke down in the middle of the road and having dinner with your parents when they demand to meet the person who’s been taking up an extra chunk of their daughters time. it’s frightening how easy it is to just be with you, to talk to you about any and everything. she remembers it took dina pestering her at work for weeks for them to become friends, and here she is laughing with your dad over roasted chicken after a month.
ʚɞ dina and jesse call her delusional. when the former shows the latter a picture of you on the instagram account you have to ellie he folds over in laughter and tells ellie oh so eloquently that she’s definitely going to fall for you, it’s only inevitable. but she remains vigilant that she wouldn’t do something so dumb. i mean yeah you’re basically exactly her type, like a deity went into one of her wet dreams and plucked the woman she manifested and placed you in the real world, but she was strong. there were plenty of fish in the sea. plenty of gay fish, to be exact.
ʚɞ she tries to go on dates, scrolls through tinder and likes every other attractive viable woman she sees. she even manages to have a few hookups. its really just a coincidence that they have some of your similar characteristics, truly. she’s not actually looking for you in any of these girls, that’d just be weird.
ʚɞ but then it happens. she has a girl over, her leg thrown over her shoulder as she grinds herself into the pretty girl’s cunt. she’s lost in a high after the blunt they’d shared earlier and her heads thrown back as she’s letting out expletive after expletive, and then she does it. she moans your name. she pauses, the girl pauses, and its silent as they remove their entangled limbs from each other and rigidly lay in bed side by side. it hurts even worse than the embarrassment when the girl pats her shoulder with a smile after she’s put her clothes back on, wishing her luck with whatever’s goin on between the two of you.
ʚɞ there’s no point in denying it then. she doesn't even get the chance to keep it to herself, the next day when she’s watching a movie on your couch you poke and prod at her until she reveals what’s got her in such a sour mood. she doesn't tell you the full story, of course, just that something absolutely mortifying happened last night when she was riding some girl. she groans that she didn't even get to finish and that was way worse then what she said, hoping the joke will ease some of the embarrassment she has telling the story and the guilt about passively lying to you.
ʚɞ she doesn't notice how you hips shift in your seat, how your teeth bite at the skin of your lip. she does notice when you question what she meant by riding a girl. she cant help but think about how adorable you are before explaining the position in the nicest way possible. you hum and turn your attention back to the movie and she thinks that's the end of the conversation. but only seconds later you’re asking her to show you.
ʚɞ she thinks she's dreaming. no, she knows she's dreaming. its happened before, weird dreams she has after a strong high where she swears her dreams become all the more vivid and lifelike. it was super annoying the second time it happened, she woke up to a world where she in fact did not win the lottery and get to make out with her celebrity crush. but this is just cruel, she didn't know her brain could be so masochistic. but no, the feel of your hand shaking her shoulder and shyly asking if you’ve made her uncomfortable is real, your big eyes flitting to anywhere but hers is real.
ʚɞ she stutters over her words, asking if you really mean it. and you say yeah, you’d been curious about this anyway. it wouldn't hurt to do it with ellie, you were friends, right? and god what an idiot she was because she’s nodding along like of course, this couldn’t make your friendship weird at all, right? so she gets to work, not doing anything too lewd except for gently pushing you to lie on your back as she maneuvers her body over yours, placing her crotch over yours until she can feel the heat of you through her jeans. she tries not to show a reaction to the sight of you looking up at her, curious and flushed as your hand briefly comes up to rest on her hip. its only when your hips delicately press up into hers that she abruptly removes herself from on top of you, stiffly chuckling before recommending you get back to the movie.
ʚɞ neither of you bring it up again.
ʚɞ it’s so much more difficult to be around you now. before she was resolute in the fact that she was alone in whatever weird feelings she had towards you, but eventually she might move on. but with only a few actions you threw that whole viewpoint out the window. now it was clear that you were interested. maybe not in ellie but in sex with another woman. a small part of her is upset at the fact it might not be her. its only cliche that if you started having these feelings you’d fall for your gay best friend, who the hell else were you thinking about? whatever, that wasn't important.
ʚɞ what was important was what occurred over the next few weeks. it happens slowly but surely, your complaints about your intimate troubles with your boyfriend. now ellie had met the guy before, and it made her feel slightly better that she had a valid reason right from the start not to like him. the man was clearly an ass, looking her up and down the first time they met and giving her a ‘yeah you’re weird’ look that he apparently didn’t think she’d recognize. luckily she didn’t have to see him often, only seeing him in passing when she spent time with you at yours or picked you up to go hang out.
ʚɞ but now his weirdness is apparently front and center. she nearly chokes on her chipotle when you tell her that he questioned why the two of you were spending so much time together, feeling like ellie was going to make a move on you.
ʚɞ and yeah, it was offensive. just because she was a lesbian didn’t mean she wanted to jump the bones of every woman she met. unfortunately that didn’t apply here because she very much did want to jump your bones. not like he knew that. hopefully.
ʚɞ but she doesn’t want to get in the way of your relationship, begrudgingly recommending that maybe the two of you should spend some time apart so he can chill out and realize he’s being paranoid. she’s very happy to hear your quick rebuttal, remarking how you’d rather dump him then spend any more time away from her.
ʚɞ god you are making this so confusing. and it only reaches a head the next time she sees you. you’d texted her to ask if she could come over late at night and obviously she said she would, along with a bag of your favorite drinks and snacks just in case you got peckish. so she’s sitting on the couch as you both eat some shareable m&ms when the topic becomes a bit more…intimate.
ʚɞ she notices your rigid shoulders as you sit stark straight on the couch and laughs about how pent up you must be. your following laugh is awkward as you agree that you have been a bit stressed lately. so she tells a joke, that your boyfriend isn’t up to par in bed. she expects you to laugh and hit her shoulder but you nod your head.
ʚɞ you…nod your head. and then you turn to her, and she’s getting flashbacks to the last time you were this close on your couch. her face is hot as whisper that the past few times you’ve tried to sleep with your boyfriend he, as you eloquently put it, ‘just pumps and dumps’, and brushes you off whenever you bring up the fact that you haven’t had a release. that as much as it ashamed you to say it, once he falls asleep next to you you sometimes find your hand trailing under your shorts and thinking back to her stories of the hookups she told you about, wishing she could show you how all of that felt.
ʚɞ ellie has always liked your bedroom. its soft and sweet, with vines of fake ivy hanging across the ceiling and a large canopy hanging over the bed. you even have an adorable collection of stuffed animals, a few of them gifted to you by her throughout the months of your friendship. all of the little guys have been shoved to the floor now, and for a fleeting moment she things they’re really just going to have to understand before her mind is consumed again with you, how you’re pretty flushed face is staring and moaning up at her as her wrist nearly cramps with how fast her fingers are pistoning into your wet cunt.
ʚɞ you haven’t even touched her and she’s already on cloud nine. your confession nearly made her pass out, and she swore she had died and gone to heaven when you asked her to help you with your problem and grabbed her hand to lead her to your bed. it was like her horniest dream come true to see you undress, to feel over your skin, to lower her head to your pussy and try her best to suck out your soul in the most loving way possible.
ʚɞ she feels her boxers get soaked when you cum around her fingers again, legs wrapping around her waist and head raising to muffle your sounds in her shoulder. she swore she nearly came when you bit into her shoulders, already knowing she was going to look into the mirror later to look at the mark your teeth left on her with a smile. but she didn’t predict for you to be so insatiable, for as soon as she pulls her fingers out of your cunt you’re whining and grinding your hips up into hers, whispering little *‘please, el, need more’*s
ʚɞ “don’t worry, baby, i’ll give you whatever you want. swear once i’m done you’re never even gonna think of that stupid boyfriend of yours again.”
#woooooo#so long#whyd i do that#first sevika thing clap for me#first canon tlou writing clap for me again#arcane#tlou#the last of us#arcane x reader#tlou x reader#vi#vi arcane#vi x reader#vi smut#sevika#sevika x reader#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson smut#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut
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🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋
𝜗ৎ⋆。˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...
or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!
warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!
a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)
this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3
a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.
“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.
she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.
sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.
rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.
letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.
"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.
your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.
a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.
you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.
the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.
you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.
he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.
you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.
"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.
still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.
"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.
a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.
just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.
"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.
you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.
"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.
your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.
looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.
you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.
#𝜗ৎ ⋆。˚ bambis works#^ྀི trailerpark!angel!reader#rafe cameron#fanfic#outer banks#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks smut#obx#obx smut#obx fanfiction#obx rafe#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe edit#rafe fluff#rafe outer banks#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe cameron moodboard
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peristalsis - i.



selkie!soap x reader. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.
When your mother asks you if you’re planning to kill yourself, you have to lie to her.
To be fair to you, it’s a half-lie. You have no plans. Courage, you find, is as slippery as an eel in gloved palms—you don’t actually think you could do it if you tried. You’re deeply averse to pain of the bloody sort, and doing the deed would take a will and an energy you don’t really have.
But still. You’ve stopped looking both ways when crossing a street. You forget the stove is on, hot oil in the pan popping like the report of a handgun. The sound of shattering glass is the only thing that makes your heart sit calm in your chest, and the only thing that can make you fall asleep anymore is the notion that when you die, the earth will welcome the molecules of your body back into its folds.
So a half-lie is not the truth. You sit in the terminal, the afternoon smell of airport coffee in your nose as you swear to your mother that you’re not looking for a cliff to jump off of, or a convenient wave to pull you under. You’ve always wanted to visit Scotland, remember?
You can’t tell if she believes you. Probably not. People not planning to kill themselves don’t blow their savings on a first class ticket over the Atlantic with no scheduled return flight.
Especially not after quitting their job.
The flight over the Atlantic is uneventful. Quiet as money can buy. You sip champagne at your window seat, recline as far back as you can go, and watch the ocean, far, far below. Its depths exceed, you remember, the heights at which humanity can fly—but you can’t really tell, looking at it from so far above. It looks like nothing less than a thin veneer stretched overtop the crust of the earth. A puddle that could barely cover the soles of your feet.
There’s not a single murmur of turbulence across the fifteen hours you’re in the air. Much that you might’ve welcomed it.
Your connecting trip to the Hebrides is much shorter. The massive sprawl of Glasgow shrinks and recedes as you leave it behind, replaced not long after by a spit of an island chain that, from a distance, hardly looks worth populating.
You land on Barra, on a sandy stretch of beach still wet and compact from the receding tide. There’s a cottage here with your name on the rental agreement for the next month, and your mind is already there ahead of you, thinking about arranging your toothbrush and toothpaste on the bathroom counter and sitting and listening to nothing but cold island wind in the grass. The cottage’s owner has graciously agreed to drive you there.
When you step off the plane, you miss him at first. You’re expecting someone completely different—an older man in cable knit, perhaps more mustache than face, and the morose demeanor of someone for whom sunlight is as common on the island as veins of gold. So your eyes skip over the younger man, even despite the sign he’s holding with your name on it.
But then you look again. Because with a man like him, you can’t not look again.
He’s wearing a sweater, sure. But he also looks like a rugby team maverick—burly and tall, rugged, tattooed, flaunting a dumb haircut because he’s handsome enough to get away with it.
He stands out from the few people in the airport as if the whole world has adjusted its lens to bring him into focus, sharpening his image such that anything in his periphery is too blurry to notice. He does not in the slightest look like he rents out an old fisher’s croft in the least popular place in Scotland.
But then you catch your name. Do a double take. Clutch your suitcase handle a little tighter, because when you approach, the man’s eyes widen, look you up and down, and then crease with a too-confident smile.
“Bonnie!” he exclaims when you introduce yourself. He has a deep, rough voice, burred and low. More still, he’s kilted, plaid hanging at muscular knees, with an odd speckled pelt slung around his hips.
You’ve never seen that before—maybe it’s an islander thing.
“You must be Mr. John MacTavish,” you say. Up close, there’s a weathered look to him, as if buffeted by the salt in the wind.
“Johnny’s fine,” he says, winking. His eyes are a lively, vibrant blue. The color of the ocean in some place much nicer than this one. “Welcome to Scotland!”
Then, incredibly, “Johnny” pulls you into a hug before you even realize what’s happening, brawny arms closing around you like the noose of a snare. You go rigid—what the hell?—but this man, whom you have met only just now, doesn’t seem to notice, compressing you against the blazing pillar of his body in an embrace that flattens your lungs behind your ribs.
“Um,” you manage. He smells like axe body spray and diesel fuel, and cold ocean wind. It wipes the forefront of your mind blank, like sweeping an arm across drawings etched in sand.
After at least five whiplashed beats of your heart, Johnny pats your back several times and lets you go, grinning.
“Sorry, bonnie. Scots are huggers.”
Then without warning, he reaches for the handle of your suitcase, warm hand nudging aside your own. “Let’s get you down there ‘fore the tide comes in. Canny wait t’show you the place, I fixed it up m’self.”
You let him take your luggage and follow; he sets off at an energetic clip that you struggle to keep up with. He gestures with his free hand as he talks, motions rising and falling with the tenor of his voice.
“You know you’re m’first guest? Was startin’ to wonder if I was gonna have to sell the place, no one seemed all that interested. Guess I can see why, no internet, barely any signal. Me, I think that’s a good thing, people spend too much time on their phones, y’know?”
You make a noncommittal noise.
Were you this cold before he let go of you?
“But it’s a great little place to get away, I promise you, nice and quiet, and I updated everything m’self. Radiator in the bedroom and everything!”
Another noise from you.
Thankfully, you reach his car—a small truck, older than the both of you, with only one row of seats and what looks like large spools of rope in the bed. Johnny pauses briefly to secure your suitcase beside them with a couple of bungee cords, and then opens the passenger side door for you to get in.
“It’s not too far from town too,” he continues as he slides into the driver’s seat. You attach your seat belt. He does not. “You got your essentials there. A supermarket—think you call ‘em grocery stores? There’s that and a cafe and a pub. No bank though, so let’s get cash now if you need it.”
“I have some.” You’d exchanged for a few hundred pounds in Glasgow.
“Good! You want to stop by the store? Took the liberty of filling up the fridge too, but if there’s somethin’ you want—”
“No,” you say.
“Alrigh,’” says Johnny.
You feel his eyes on you—when you look at him, he’s smiling again. You are not pleased to find, through the benefit of close proximity, that he has dimples.
“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothin,’” he says.
Johnny drives you across the causeway from Barra to Vatersay, the latter of which, he helpfully informs you, is populated by less than a hundred people.
“More wildlife than anything,” he comments, as the ocean outside the window passes by. The water is dull and gray, hidden from the sun by an overcast sky. “That’s what the tourists come for. You here to see the seals?”
“Seals?” you ask.
“Aye,” Johnny says, grinning. “They come here for breeding season.”
You ignore the quirk of his eyebrows.
The cottage stands alone, a ways out from the island’s main village at the top of a modest hillock. Island grasses sway along the dirt road as Johnny directs the truck upwards, coming to a stop a few meters away from the house proper.
It’s quaint. Thatch roof, cobbled walls. A generator hooked up on one side. There are flower boxes flanking the front door, although nothing’s in bloom; it’s the wrong season for it. The window frames are unpainted, and the glass panes, despite looking recently cleaned, are crusted with salt at the corners.
And it’s smaller than it looked in the pictures online. Even close up to it, the blue-grey sky overhead, swimming with dun-colored clouds, swallows it up.
You exit the truck into a cold breeze that tugs at the collar of your fleecy sweater. You’d read online that this time of year was the last gasp of summer into the autumn months in the Hebrides—it hardly feels that way, with the chill that drags its fingers across your hairline.
“It’s on a septic tank so y’ve got alright plumbing,” Johnny goes on, hefting your suitcase over one brawny shoulder. “Canny say much for the water pressure in the shower, but other than tha’ it’s alright. Matters more that it’s hot, ‘f you ask me—and it is! Come on, I’ll give y’the tour.”
The cottage is not big enough to warrant one. Johnny shows you the four rooms—kitchen, sitting room, bathroom, and bedroom—in under five minutes. It ends with him leaned up against the counter, arms folded genially across his plush chest, grinning at you like he knows some embarrassing secret of yours.
“Was thinkin,’” he says, scratching the stubble on his jaw with one thumbnail, “this’d be kind of a honeymoon thing, y’know? That woman with the time travel show, lots a’folks been comin’ here lately ‘cause a’her.”
“Is there anything else to do here besides look at seals?” you ask.
Soap gazes at you through half-lidded eyes, smirking. “I dinnae think you leave the bedroom much on a honeymoon, do you?”
You flush. “I never really thought about it.”
“So you’re no’ married, then?”
“No. Not—not interested.”
Johnny lifts one brow. “In marriage?”
“In anything.”
He keeps fucking smiling. You have a barely controllable urge to smack him; you settle for wringing the hem of your sweater, imagining it could be his neck.
“So what brings y’here, then?” he asks, tilting his head like a cat playing with its food. “If no’ a honeymoon?”
You frown.
The truth is, of course, that nothing brought you here. Vatersay, nor the Hebrides, nor Scotland itself were actually of any consequence. You’re ambivalent about the ocean, and you certainly don’t care about seals.
You just hadn’t been able to think of anything you wanted when you asked yourself that perennial question. You wanted nothing.
You wanted nothing.
So you found as much nothing as you could and bought the soonest first class ticket heading toward it.
Your only stipulation had been no language barrier—so here you are now, cursing the lack of such, because it means this man, who belongs on this island no more than you do, is bothering to try and talk to you.
“Just wanted some peace and quiet,” is what you decide to say.
“Needed a change, aye?” Johnny nods sagely, as if understanding. “I did too, when I came here. Was in the army. Special forces.”
“O-okay,” you say, because you hadn’t asked.
“Didnae plan to stay,” he continues.
He turns his head to look out the kitchen window; on one temple is the ghost of a scar. A starburst-ripple in the shaved side of his dark hair—nothing more.
But something about it suggests that the wound it closed around was a horror to behold.
Then he turns back to you, the corners of his mouth quirked. “But somethin’ about this place is hard to leave.” The quirk turns into another smarmy grin “Bet when your month’s up, you’ll know what I mean.”
It seems rude to say probably not. “Maybe.”
The radiator in the kitchen breathes a swell of warm air through the room, blooming with Johnny’s diesel-and-ocean scent. There’s very little space between you, him against the counter, you across from him at the sink. Johnny’s bulk claims what little room there is to maneuver, and if you tried to move away, it would require first moving closer.
“So,” you begin.
“Here,” he intercedes. “Wanna show you somethin.’”
The only reason you comply is because he leads you outside, which is a step closer to him finally leaving you alone. Johnny circles around the cottage, revealing a footpath that leads down the hill. The ground transitions from soil to sand as you both walk; the wind picks up as the sound of waves grows. Eventually you reach what turns out to be a small cove, hidden by the curve of the island, flanked on both sides by cliffs of only middling height.
The tide is only now making its way in; probably why you hadn’t realized it was here earlier. You think you’ll be able to hear the waves when you go to sleep tonight.
“Oh,” you say, unable to hide that it’s impressed you.
“Yeah,” Johnny replies, smug. “All yours. Come down whenever you like. Dinna recommend skinny dippin’ this time a’year, though.”
You look at him, intending some sort of flat response, but what you see stops your words up in the chamber of your throat.
There’s something…different about him. There’s a sharp glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before. A dangerous cant to the angle of his grin. He suddenly feels very real to you—
Like standing in front of a wild animal.
Realizing, at the same time it does, that there is no barrier between it and you.
He looks you up and down. He doesn’t even try to hide it; too-blue eyes jaunt from yours down to your throat, the span of your shoulders, lingering on your chest before drifting down your stomach and hips. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, shoulders lifting as his chest expands, and you get the strange sense that he’s trying to smell you.
The ice that slithers through your veins, drips down the rigid column of your spine, wars with the spike of heat that breaks across your face. You feel here. You feel very present, your heart pumping wet in your chest, electrical wisps zipping to every nerve ending and back up your cerebellum to remind your brain of every part of your existing body.
Suddenly you are in Scotland, thousands of miles away from home, freezing fucking cold, only half of all the money you have in the world left in your bank account. Tomorrow stretching out in front of you. The next day after it.
Panic, which you thought buried, turns over in your belly, grave-dirt too light to keep it down. Hard earth is beneath your feet. A light drizzle is starting overhead. You begin to shiver, your nervous system’s effort to warm your hairless mammal body up, to save you from the cold and the wet and the fucking predator standing two paces away from you while gazing at you like it can’t wait to break your bones open for the marrow inside.
“Okay,” you finally snap, though you’re unable to keep your voice from quivering. “I really appreciate you driving me, Johnny, but—”
His eyes flash. The ocean-depths of them shift with an awareness beyond your ken, the dark edges deepening, the vivid blue swirling. The expression on his face transmutes into something unknowable—like the difference between the look on a pet dog’s face and a wolf’s.
Something isn’t there that should be, and what is in its place is entirely unfamiliar.
What is in its place is something your species evolved long past being able to understand.
Then, as quickly as it appeared, the flash is gone. Johnny is human again, as if he had always been in the first place. The thin crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes crinkle, as he gives you what he probably thinks is a sympathetic smile.
He doesn’t seem able, or perhaps willing to hide how amused he is, though.
“Long flight, I know,” he croons, meeting your gaze again. “Dinna worry, bonnie, I’ll let you get your rest.”
Whatever you were about to say dies. Your mouth hangs open. Johnny backs away from you, hands casually in his pockets.
“I’ll take you to see the seals tomorrow!” he calls to you before he turns away. A sudden gust ruffles the pelt hanging around his hips. “I know all the best spots.”
He throws you a casual wave, and then disappears over the rise.
You do hear the waves that evening, when you lay down to sleep. The covers are soft over you, cozy and warm even as the ocean wind hums outside.
You can’t stop shivering.
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a/n: last fic of the year (probably)! i'm so into this one tbh. i figured out the ending a while ago and i'm so dang excited to get to it.
#soap x reader#soap x you#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mctavish x you#john soap x reader#soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#soap mctavish#john soap mactavish#how the hell is his last name even spelled#mwritessoap#madi writes
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彡𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 || 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆.
“Are you still mad at me?”
“Of course I am. And do you wanna know a bad habit of yours?”
“Hm?” Satoru’s gentle breath hit the back of your neck as the tall man stood behind you, staring down at the lettuce and tomatoes that you were chopping up on a cutting board. “A bad habit? Didn’t think I had any.”
You rolled your eyes and said, “You have a few. One of them being that you don’t believe in personal space. I mean, it’s kinda crazy that you can keep anything and everything from touching you, yet you act like you’ll die if you’re more than ten feet away from me.”
“I don’t see the problem, sweetheart.”
“That nickname. That nickname is part of the problem right there. I’m not your sweetheart. We’re just friends as far as I’m concerned, so, yeah, it pisses me off a little when we’re in public together and someone approaches me, and you start hovering around me and holding my hand like we’re dating when we’re not.”
As your sharp knife sliced through the vegetable — a particularly frustrated slice as well, as Satoru saw you grip the knife even harder and apply more unnecessary force — Satoru stepped closer, pressing his body against your backside, and thus, pushing you against the kitchen island.
“Is that really a problem?” He whispered. “Can you blame me for wanting to be close to you all the time? You’re just so . . .”
He couldn’t finish speaking. Not when he was completely overwhelmed by the way your body felt against his, and your sweet scent nearly drove him crazy — he no longer wanted dinner. He had an appetite for something else now.
“You can cook later,” Satoru reached around you and grabbed the knife out of your hands, placed it on the wooden cutting board, and slid all of it away.
Then, he placed his hands on your hips.
“And I think you and I both know that we’re more than friends,” Satoru said. “You’re mine.”
“Well, you’ve never made that clear,” you mumbled, and while your words were spoken just slightly above a whisper, it was enough for Satoru to lean you over across the kitchen island and press his clothed dick against your ass.
Even through the material of his pants and your skirt, you could feel his need; his cock was hard enough to make you gasp when you felt it.
“I’m sorry,” Satoru smirked slightly. “I’ll make it clear to you right now, I promise.”
His long fingers lifted your skirt and hooked around your underwear, pulling them down until they were left to dangle around your knees.
He ran his large hands across your ass. Across the back of your thighs. Across your back. Any place he could touch.
Lowering his head, he finally dove in like a starving man, eating you out sloppily from behind as you were left to do nothing but moan his name and grip the edges of the kitchen island.
His tongue repeatedly licked at your clit. He moaned at the sweet taste of it, and as he so desperately wanted to suck on your little button for hours upon hours and taste your cum all over his tongue, it was no surprise to know why he never believed in personal space. You were just that irresistible.
🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @ellaumbrella1 @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135
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