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loupy-mongoose · 6 months

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Lil speech guide: Randy's speech Jamie's speech (Pokespeak will be in parentheses.)

It got pretty long, so under the Bar it goes!

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Jamie, the Gardevoir, and the three Lindens stood locked in tense silence. Randy fought to string together an explanation that wouldn't give away too much, while also trying to gauge Akoya's stance.

Jamie was the first to break the silence. Her expression hardened, her eyes displaying a sharp fury. Well? I'm not letting you a step further until I know it's not a threat.

The pointed stick in her hand lowered to point toward the family, and her authoritative tone chilled Randy. She meant business, which didn't help ease the man's racing mind.

Akoya answered before Randy could, her voice a bit too defensive in his opinion. It's none of your business what's in our bag. It's stuff for travel! What's wrong with that?!

Jamie clearly didn't believe her for a second. Her icy eyes bore into the white haired visitor. I won't tolerate a threat at my home. Tell me what's in there, or you WILL leave. Her eyes flashed ominously. Or worse.

Feeling a wave of protectiveness, Randy shuffled to stand in front of Akoya and Lavender. He hoped they couldn't feel the surge of utter dread that coursed through his body.

Listen, Jamie. He tried to keep his voice low, level, and non-threatening. What's in that bag is very precious to us, and we can't show you out here where others might see it. If we can go somewhere private, then maybe we can work something out.

He felt the sharp jab of Akoya's disapproval from behind him. Between her and the protesting red-head in front of them, he felt his resolve being wringed out of him.

Jamie stood still, her glare unwavering. After a moment, her head lifted slightly as she addressed their Pokemon company in an strong bark. (Darren, Sheila, Percy, please hide us with your wings.)

Percy and Darren gave startled, bewildered looks, while Sheila tilted her head and chuffed questioningly. But they did as she asked, reaching out to their widest wingspans, touching tip-to-tip with each other.

The Lindens hesitantly shuffled to adjust their positions as their space shrank.

There. Jamie eyed them all closely You wanted somewhere private; this is it. If you still won't show me, you'll have to leave.

Randy and Akoya glanced nervously at each other.

What could be done?

They came to a silent agreement.

Akoya turned back to Jamie, giving her a glare that verged on desperation. We're showing you because you forced our hand. NOT because we trust you. If you try anything...

To Randy's surprise, he caught a falter in Jamie's resolve, and something changed. A new expression slipped into her demeanor, if only barely.

Curiosity.

The look on Jamie's face turned from shock to determination.

Swiftly she addressed her three winged Pokemon. (Spread the word; we need to find a little pink Mew with blue accents. It is to be brought back to these three safely and secretly.)

The three beasts nodded in sincerity and took off.

Persim poked his head of of the bag, his face etched in horror, while Momo was shrieking. Stay in there for now, Perzi. Randy's voice was shaky, but reassuring. We'll handle it. Could you please try to calm Momo down?

The orange feline nodded uncertainly and ducked back into the bag. Randy saw a green bubble form in it as he zipped it shut. Momo's screams went quiet, but he knew it was just contained by the bubble. Poor Persim...

The red-headed girl looked solemnly at the devastated family, her expression softer than any of them had seen from her yet. I'm truly sorry about that... I promise you all, this is the best place for a Pokemon like them to be lost at. There will be lots of good Pokemon looking for them, and any humans will be curious at worst. It might scare them, but nobody will hurt them.

I would've done things differently if I'd known they were in there...

Akoya gave up looking nearby for her son and took a breath. She turned to Jamie, for once without venom. Listen, Jamie, with all due respect, we'll be able to find him easier than your little... network, or whatever you have here. He's gotta be terrified! He might just keep teleporting away if strangers find him, human or Pokemon...

Jamie folded her arms with a hesitant nod. You're free to search too, if you think so. Maybe you're right, and he'll only show for you guys. But if anyone spots him, I'll hear of it, so I'd best stick with you.

Akoya gave an uncertain look and opened her mouth to speak. But, feeling her about to protest, Randy interrupted her. We can talk later. Let's go find Midas.

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New skill acquired~

And just for the fun of it, I'm uh... gonna share some of the (very) rough sketches I did for this part, because I find them hilarious.

Luna (my cat) randomly decided to leave the comfort of her cat tower to come lay on my arm. The trouble was, it was my drawing arm. So I made due. XD

#Linden Roots #art #comic #writing #full #babbies #mite #she's there too #Just not visible.#She's doing her thing and hiding in the floof.#I'm sure Jamie's gonna have a fun time meeting her~ :)

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maxarchive · 5 months

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MAX-IMUM ATTACK 2017 Season Photos and words by Darren Heath

Monday lunchtime, Heathrow Terminal 5. Standing next to the slowly revolving baggage carousel, a fresh-faced, slightly awkward-looking - just out of his teens - young man is awaiting the arrival of his chattels.

Dressed in bland black trainers, similarly hued skinny jeans and an oversized hoody, this Young Turk ain’t winning any style awards. iPhone in hand, he’s busy swiping the screen in that head-bowed social media style billions of us now ‘enjoy’.

Max Verstappen doesn’t really do flash. He couldn’t look more ‘normal’. Yet put him in a racing car and he’s just about the most special talent to arrive on motor racing’s top step for decades.

Schumacher-esque – Michael of course! – is a term increasingly heard up and down the F1 paddock, such is the impact the Netherlands’ premier sportsman is now making.

I can see it too.

The fresh-faced 16-year-old boy who was, upon his arrival, so ignorantly dismissed by many within the sport is rapidly becoming a man. It’s amazing how quickly young sportsmen living life in the public gaze assume adulthood. Just take a look at Sebastian Vettel. The gawky kid of 2009 became the handsome dude of 2010!

What sets the potentially great apart from the mediocre? What makes Max Verstappen so, so much more special than, say, Carlos Sainz?

I guess it’s the whole package: the look; the mien; the steely character honed to be a racer almost from before he could walk; the utterly uncompromising way he dismisses any questioning of his racecraft; the toys-out-of-the-pram reaction to harsh penalties; the fast straight-out-of-the-box attacking style; and the rapier-like overtaking ability, the like of which we haven’t seen for many a year. Such was Max’s impact on the art of passing and defending, the rules had to be rewritten!

The way the car looks through the turns, the application of throttle, steering and immensely late braking. Metronomic in his blisteringly fast lap time delivery, this boy has the lot. He IS the future of Formula 1.

In so, so many ways – but let’s hope not all – Max is the new MSC.

Racing in an aggressive and forceful style often results in on-track contretemps with some of his more seasoned rivals. No matter, Max takes no prisoners, batting away questions about the legality of some of his racing moves with a dismissive arrogance that’s strangely appealing in its delivery.

Up to speed now and surely making Dan Ricciardo question his team-leading abilities, Verstappen is unquestionably Red Bull’s main man.

Off-track too, Max is sorted. Guided by his F1-experienced father, the young Verstappen has an able and well-qualified navigator at the helm. Learning from his own ill-advised 1990s F1 driving career decisions, Jos pays absolute attention so as to ensure his son maximises the opportunities on offer.

With top-drawer drivers in short supply, Red Bull had better make damned sure their 2019-and-beyond engine supply is top-notch. The bidding war for Max’s signature is already in full swing. Ferrari and Mercedes are enviously eyeing the Dutchman’s abilities with covetous desire.

It’s easy to forget that Max is only 20 years old. Way ahead in racing driver maturity - a relative term! – than so many millions of a similar age, Max has appeared mentally developed beyond his years since first he appeared in the F1 paddock at Spa 2014. It struck me then how entirely capable this 16-year-old boy was dealing with multiple language questions and untold camera lenses. Listening to his interrogator politely before answering calmly and intelligently, Max appeared born to the role…

Fast forward to now and Verstappen is a multiple grand prix winner and 2018 title-chasing challenger. Part of the new breed of F1 racers, Max leads the pack. Publicly respectful of his rivals, although privately dismissive of many, he well knows his place among the potentially great.

Michael Schumacher once opined – in an interview I photographed – that his father had advised him to heed well the arrival on the scene of the next great talent. The one who’d challenge and quickly replace the dominant male. Well, Lewis, Sebastian and Fernando, that man has arrived.

You’d best heed Herr Schumacher’s words well…

#max verstappen #f1 #2017

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kaivenom · 4 months

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Hey may I request a spider x fem reader where it's the map scene and I said something bad about the reader ( u can make it up ) and she has atusim like quinn and the reader runs away with quinn and Darren chasing after her and neither one can make her not cry anymore so they go to spider as he's the only one they know that can make calm down as he has a big soft spot for her like he has for ant please

In need for comfort

Summary: when the map is discovered, the actual girfriend of your ex tried to make you feel bad about it. Not knowing how to handle it, you run away from everyone, until some blonde appears.

Pairing: Spencer "Spider" White x autistic!reader

Warnings: sexual themes, mention of previous smut, mean people.

A/N: i will try to write an "autistic" reader but i don't know if i will do it well so please be kind. I will guide myself by Quinni's behaviour on some scenes.

Masterlist

Five minutes ago someone screamed about some incest map and everyone started a crazy race to see what was going on, you and your friends included. Once you get there, you discovered a wall full on names and connected with lines that defined the sexual act the two persons did. Fast enough you searched for your name, discovering it's only connected with one person. You sighted with relief knowing nobody speculates about your secret relationship with Spider.

The only person they connected you with was your ex-boyfriend. The gold line of sex and the green line of... your heart skipped a beat and you couldn't catch a breath, pressure on your chest building up. The green line is for anal, your cheeks are burning from embarrasment. Everyone is laughing, you don't know about who but it feels like it's about you.

"Wow, it looks like someone it's a little slut," you can't think straight, your vision starting to blurr as you look to the wall.

The voice that sounded on the background sounded like the new girlfriend of your ex, this can't be worse. The attetion it's starting to get officially into you.

"So, you let my boyfriend enter the back door." her voice sounded closer every second. "what a fucking slut, maybe that's why he dumped you." You feel like floating, expecting to fall every moment now, not being able to continue listening to the girl, which is closer every second.

People are around moving like ghosts to you. The air is escaping and entering your lungs faster that you can asimilate, it feels like you are about to fade out while the blood rushes at high speed thru your ears.

"(Y/N)," Darren's voice sounded distant.

You don't knwo how to handle breathing, seeing or feeling anymore, your legs started moving without warning, trying to get you out of there as faster as possible. Darren and Quinn's voice following you from behind, but you don't care, you only want to run from everyone.

You get to a hidden spot, nearby some trees. Your friends got there not so long before you, keeping the distance as you place your back on the wall trying to catch your breath. Uncontrollably, you started shaking your hands and moving you head in a poor attempt to shake everyhing outside your body.

"(Y/N)," there it is, Darren's voice again, you aren't able to speak now and they know.

Movemment around you, they left you alone?, that's strange, that's sad, you started to cry again, remembering all the people that left you because you were to "strange or "difficult to treat". You never expected that from Darren since they already had Quinn as a friend.

"Here she is, i can't do anything, she is not respondind, please, do something."

Darren's voice appeared on screen but with someone new, a familiar shadow formed in front of you. It's not touching you but somehow, it has a little calming effect on you, it's Spider.

"I don't know what to do, this is not my strong point, tell me what you need." you denied with your head, unable to speak, only going back to the wall.

He got next to you, but instead of hugging you, Spider sat on the bench next to both. You didn't even realized it was there, now you know you let your legs fade out and sit abruptly on the bench with him. Suddently, your favourite song started to sound on the background, apparently Spider put it on with his phone.

Your breath finally started to calm down a little, but your heart still races to fast for your pleassure. An object got in your view, an anti estress ball. You took it between your hands, brushing slightly Spider's hands in the process. Your fingers finally stopping to move around uncontrollably as you feel how wet your cheeks are from crying.

You didn't felt all that things before, but it's a good thing you are feeling them now, it's a sign that you are regaining control. You don't know how much time has passed, but the song played all the time and Spider didn't left your side.

"Are you better now?" his voice sounded more clear that has been the previous four times he asked you, maybe you are prepaerd to answer now.

"I think ... yes." the words are difficult to get out of your mouth.

His figure moved closer, sliding himself next to you, now your shoulders touching slightly. His hand moved slowly to your thight, which makes you shiver for a moment. HIs fingers don't stop moving to your leg, they only slow down, just to make time for you to adapt.

Now his touch is firm, moving up and down with confidence, making you feel better every second he is close to you. Finally, you found the courage to look at him, a smile forming on his lips seeing you finally.

"I am glad i didn't make you feel worse."

"I think... you would do that." speaking to him is still a little difficult.

He extended his hand to interlock your fingers together, kissing your knuckles in the most gentle way. You couldn't help but smile and giggle, now you kiss his cheek making him blush.

"At least they didn't catch us." you let out a small laugh.

"Yeah, you're right."

"And don't worry, i won't leave you like that idiot, i think you aren't too much... you are just the perfect amount to me."

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featherandferns · 2 months

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daylight - seven

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 7 of the daylight series | read part 6 here

content warnings: none

word count: 2.7k.

blurb: with JJ gone the next morning, you distract yourself with work and reunite with Barry at the garage. The next day, following a surf day at the beach, you find yourself worried that this thing with JJ may do more damage than it's worth.

Just as he had when the two of you fell asleep at the Chateau; JJ is gone in the morning. You’re groggy as you turn over in bed. Picking up your phone, you find a text from Mimsy. It’s a winking emoji accompanying a picture of her in a guy’s bed, with Darren’s sleeping back facing the camera. Laughing quietly, you text a reply requesting a debrief later. You open the Pogue group chat next and scroll through the typical banter-like chatter. Kiara mentions a surfing day soon and you reply, telling her tomorrow would be better than today.

You had a photography gig lined up today. A photoshoot of a new, hippie-style smoothie bar that had opened near Figure Eight by some trust-fund college graduate. They were willing to pay you a hundred for the pictures alone and another twenty-five if you edited them on their behalf. After that, you needed to edit the pictures from the Country Club gala since you got side-tracked last night.

With the mundanity of your morning routine, it’s hard to believe JJ had been around the night before. If it weren’t for the polaroid pictures which have your face light on fire (and are promptly stuffed at the bottom of your sock drawer), you’d think you might have hallucinated the whole thing. You’d be lying to say that you weren’t a little crestfallen to not find a text from JJ.

It feels strange to drive your car after hitching so many lifts with JJ in the Twinkie. It’s when you’re halfway to the smoothie bar that your car makes a concerning, clunking noise. After the incident a couple months back, you’re ready for the thing to start steaming again. Thankfully, it doesn’t, but it prompts you to visit Barry’s garage after your photoshoot.

Wandering into the garage, the smell of cigarettes hits you hard and strong. There’s old sixties rock playing through the speakers, the quality crackly, and you venture the isles looking for a worker. You end up poking your head into the main body-works section, rapping politely on the open door.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

A man grunts and appears from behind a car. It’s Barry. He’s got an oil streak on his cheek and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing his fading tattoos. He eyes you up from across the room.

“Do I know you?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m JJ’s friend? We came by here a few weeks back now,” you say, semi-awkward. Barry wags a finger at you as his memory jogs.

“You’re the one with the busted radiator, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you smile. “Listen, uh, it’s making a weird noise again and I don’t know squat about cars. I was wondering if you could give it a look? I’d be more than willing to pay, even for a glance over.”

Barry shoves his hands in his overall pockets and shrugs. “Course. JJ’s friend, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, anything for that kid,” Barry’s gruff voice says. He wanders over to you and follows you out to your car. Cracking open the bonnet, he talks as he inspects the engine. “You know, that kid’s pretty smart with these things, too. He’d make a hell of mechanic. You could’ve just asked him to check it over for you.”

“Oh. I mean, he checked it out when I broke down but I didn’t know he was that savvy with it,” you reply.

“Hell yeah. Shame his dad’s such a bastard cause he’s got a hell of a mind for mechanics, too,” Barry chuckles, sounding almost sad as he does. “Poor kid got dealt a rough hand.”

“Yeah, uh, I get the sense he has a tricky relationship with his dad,” you tentatively say.

Barry spares you a glance. His eyes hold years of grief. “Don’t think his old man knows how lucky he is to have that kid around.”

Your mind darts back to the photo on the pinboard of his child. Smiling sympathetically, you nod. “He’s pretty special.”

“Damn straight,” Barry grunts in agreement. Then he continues inspecting your car in silence.

You liked Kildare. The people were genuine and real. They looked out for each other on the Cut; offered a helping hand, generous with loans and handiwork. Sometimes it seemed quality of character was more important than money. You liked that way of thinking. Maybe if everyone took that line of thought onboard, the world could be a brighter place.

“Well, I don’t see anything wrong,” Barry concludes, closing the bonnet. “Might’ve just been a screw or something shifting, or the brakes after going over a pothole. I wouldn’t stress.”

“Thanks,” you say. “I just thought it best to check it out.”

You reach into your pocket and pull out your wallet, fishing around for some dollar bills. Barry frowns at you and shakes his head.

“You ain’t gotta do all that,” he says.

“I insist,” you reply. “I mean, you’ve already helped me out for free before.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Barry returns. “Just leave us a good review or something. Could do with some more customers these days.”

You glance at the garage with that. It looks old and rickety, with dust stained windows and a tin roof. The font of the sign that lines the store is reminiscent of the seventies. You wouldn’t be surprised if it hadn’t been updated since then.

“You know,” you say, looking back to him, “I do some photography. I’d be happy to pay you back by taking a few shots for some promo.”

He quirks a brow. “You any good?”

You dig out your camera from your bag and open the gallery, holding it out to him. Flicking through the shots of the smoothie bar, you let him take his time. His lips purse and brows raise, seemingly impressed.

“These are pretty good. You sure you wouldn't mind?” he asks, handing it back. You smile and shake your head.

“It’s the least I can do,” you reply.

“Alright. You got yourself a deal. Come by whenever and we’ll get it sorted,” Barry returns, sticking out his hand for you to shake. You do so gladly. “What’s your name by the way?”

You tell him. A sombre smile softens Barry’s wrinkled features. “That’s what we were gonna name my little girl.”

You’re not sure what to say and so you smile kindly at him. As you drive back home, you can’t help but feel as though you’ve made a friend. There’s the nagging feeling to tell JJ about it all but you don’t. Besides, he still hasn’t texted you since last night.

The next day you go surfing. Walking up through the dunes, you find the Pogues on the beach dressed in swimsuits. Kiara is sitting on a towel, rubbing sunscreen into her leg, whilst the guys stand around talking. Their boards are scattered around them. Pope spots you first and waves. You wave back with your free hand, the other holding a White Claw. You’ve barely reached them before JJ’s hooking an arm over John B’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey! Take a picture of us!”

“She literally just got here,” Kiara scolds.

Rolling your eyes, you entertain JJ. Fishing your camera out of your tote bag, you click it on, hold it up and take a mediocre shot. “Happy?”

“Yep,” JJ grins, letting John B free.

Kiara stands up and grabs her board, dressed in leopard-print bikini bottoms and a plum-shaded bikini top. Before she can move, you blurt out for her to hold still and snap a sideways photo of her.

“We didn’t just invite you here to be our personal photographer,” Pope assures you.

Laughing, you ditch your tote bag on the towel. “I don’t mind. You guys take good photos.”

JJ wanders over to you, pinches your can of seltzer to have a swig, and looks out to the sea. “Waves look pretty decent today, right?”

“Hell yeah,” Kiara grins. Looking at you, she asks, “you joining?”

“I’m gonna take some shots first,” you smile. JJ passes you back your drink; you down it and place the can in the methodical ‘trashbag’ Kie brought. Ditching your shirt and shorts, you join the others to wander down to the waterfront, everyone talking over each other. John B and Pope wade out into the water with Kie, and then they start paddling deeper into the depths. JJ lingers beside you for a moment.

“You sure you don’t wanna join?”

“I will in a minute,” you say. Lifting your camera, you add, “the lighting’s just really good today.”

“Alright,” he shrugs, walking into the waves. Looking back to you, he loudly adds, “you look hot in that bikini, by the way!”

You hide your fluster with an eye roll, waving him off into the water. A cheeky, knowing grin turns away from you as he paddles out, calling out to the others. As the sun beats down on the beach, you adjust the camera settings and focus on one friend at a time. Kiara dips in and out of the waves, curly hair flowing behind her, face set in focus. John B and Pope bend and lean, tightening their cores, the shadows of the rolling water enhancing the beauty to their form. Naturally, JJ is your favourite. Maybe it’s the smile on his face, brimming and bright, like he was born in the sea and destined to surf its waves. He makes it look easy. Rakes a hand through his hair from time to time, like he’s taking a leisurely stroll down the street. When he catches your camera on him, he points to you with a holler. You manage to snap a shot before he bails. The next one you get is of him, sinking into the aquamarine waves. You take that as your cue to ditch your camera with the rest of the belongings, snatch up your board and join them in the waves. JJ cheers you on as you pass him by, a little rusty in your technique. They were right: it was perfect weather for it. The water was tamer today than it had been in other sessions. Not as brutal in its churning of you when you bail off.

Somehow, the five of you find yourself sat atop of your boards in a circle, chatting away as the sun dries your water-speckled bodies.

“I think that’s it’s completely unjust,” Kie complains in her environmentalist spiel. She looks to you, “I mean, it’s–”

Her brows knit as she looks at something on your neck.

“Is that a hickey?”

You glance down, lifting a finger to your skin, and realise that the shabby concealer work you’d done that morning had rubbed off on your t-shirt and washed away with the sea water. The picture of abashed, your eyes dart down to the water.

“Uh…No.”

“Yes it is!” Kie grins.

Pope paddles over and investigates it like a doctor might.

“Definitely not a rash or a burn.”

“I will push you off your board, Pope, I swear to God,” you grumble. He takes a wary paddle backwards.

“Who the hell did that to you?” John B sniggers.

Your eyes glance fleetingly to JJ, hopefully without the other’s notice. He’s sat watching it all unfold with a proud, shit-eating grin. Asshole.

“Nobody.”

“So you’re saying it’s a phantom hickey?” Pope jokes in his bizarre Pope way. You push him off his board with that. He crashes into the water as the others laugh. Through their laughter, you overhear Kie talking to JJ.

“Why do you look so smug?”

“We should probably head back to shore,” you announce, “me and JJ gotta start heading to work soon.”

Turning away, you start paddling back to shore before anybody can argue. Never much to dwell, the group happily abandons their line of questioning and follow. On land, you dry off and dress. John B and Pope start battling over a bag of chips and Kiara has taken off collecting stray pieces of litter along the beach. JJ wanders up to you and pinches your butt. Spinning around, you glare at him.

“Thanks for your help back there,” you say lowly.

JJ shrugs, grinning, “fun watching you squirm.”

You swat his leg with your towel and he cusses with a laugh, hopping away from you. “Dry off. We got work in fifteen.”

JJ mimics you in a high-pitched echo but does as you say, rubbing himself dry of salt water. The five of you share the load as you walk back to the Twinkie. JJ drives, dropping the others at the Chateau before taking the both of you to the Country Club.

“Our deal still on?” JJ asks you.

“Hell yeah. Get ready to pay up,” you grin.

The two of you had made a bet the other day, about who would hear the phrase “excuse me” more. You debate bringing up the other night, as the two of you ride to work, but you pull up to the country club before you have a chance to muster-up the courage.

Venturing into the staff room, you and JJ open your respective lockers and begin to change into your uniforms.

“Listen, I hear it way more than you do,” you say to JJ, referring back to the ‘excuse me’ battle, as you pull on your blouse. “‘Excuse me, miss, can you take a picture of me and my family?’ ‘Excuse me miss, can you get one of me and my wife?’”

“Oh, come off it,” JJ sniggers. “ ‘Excuse me sir, get me one of those shrimp cocktails.’ ‘Excuse me sir, I need a refill.’”

“Your customers sound a lot less polite than mine,” you snort.

“Tell me about it,” he grumbles. He tugs his shirt off and you watch the muscles of his back ripple. As JJ buttons up his work shirt, he turns to you and smirks. “You might wanna cover that up.”

You glance down to once more find your hickey poking out. Buttoning up your blouse, you shoot him a half-amused glare. “Next time can you put it in an easier to hide place?”

“Nah,” JJ leers, clearing the distance between you. His fingers reach out to brush at your collarbone. “You have a spot right here that makes you squirm.”

The intensity of his unwavering stare traps you in place like you’re under Medusa’s watch. Someone walks into the staff changing room - Larry, from the kitchen - and JJ takes a step away from you, turning back to his bag.

“Hey man,” he nods to Larry.

“Yo.”

And just like that he goes about getting ready as if he hardly knows you. Sends you a cordial smile and nod as he departs, with a fleeting “see you later”.

It shouldn’t sting as much as it does. And maybe it wouldn’t, if it weren’t for Tyler. If it weren’t for how screamingly familiar it felt to how you spent six months of your life in Vancouver.

That softness in JJ’s eyes, hidden behind laughter and rambunctious shenanigans and even anger, at times, reminds you of Tyler. Brings back that girlish thought: that all girls want a guy to look at them like that, and only them. Have that gentleness saved just for you. It reminds you of how you felt with your ex. How he used to be different around you in an inexplicable way. Soft, kind, vulnerable. Real. He’d hold you and spin you around, and make you feel safe and special, until you realise that it only happened when he was with just you. That around everyone else, even your friends, he was distant and distracted. He wouldn’t hold your hand. Wouldn’t kiss your lips, let alone your cheek. Leave you to fend for yourself in conversations, like treading water in the sea, whilst he and his family sat, relaxing on a yacht only feet away. Relied on the excuse ‘I was going to…’ and became a master at apologising. Slowly, with time, it stopped feeling like a privilege to know only that side of him when nobody was looking. Instead, it began to feel like a curse. And JJ, with his smug silence at the beach and passivity in the changing room, you were worried that you might be retracing your steps.

That thought leaves a bad taste in your mouth from the moment you leave the changing rooms, and it lingers like stale coffee on your tongue long after the end of your shift.

read part eight here!

taglist:

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #jj x fem!reader #fem!reader #obx fics #outerbanks jj #outer banks jj x reader #outerbanks series

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dutiful-wildcraft · 3 months

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Secondhand News

John Price/ plus size F!OC

John Price chases after his sergeants sister, a soft and sweet wildlife rehabilitator in the rural south.

Tags: domestic fluff, critters, poor flirting, and eventual smut. There is also some background romance between the rest of the 141. Please Enjoy <3

Price bounces gently in the back seat of the old SUV, his hand curled over the rain guard from where his arm hangs out of the window. Content to let the warm wind wash over him as they speed down the bumpy gravel road to Darren’s home. Pleased to see the landscape shift from seemingly endless plains of agricultural fields and miles of 2-lane highway, to dense and muggy bottomland filled with oaks and hardy cypress.

Ghost is sitting passenger, mask temporarily pulled down, scarred lips pulled into a knowing smile as he watches Darren fuss stubbornly with the worn out radio. Ghost eventually grows tired of the annoying swap between static and too loud classic rock, giving the knob a quick smack. He reaches over, tugging at Darren’s ear. “Jus’ listen to the wind.” he chastises warmly. Rolling his own window further for added effect. Darren wrinkles his nose in displeasure, growing antsy in his excitement to get home, but holding back his chatter. Price gives him about 5 minutes before he touches the radio again.

This was a well needed “vacation.” Rather, they had been bullied into taking temporary leave, signed and expedited by Laswell herself before the boys could get swept up in another ultranationalist regime. They had been running for months, beaten and exhausted after Makarov. The near miss with Soap had worn heavily on them all, and another group was being pulled online to clean up the aftermath. After a few weeks of huddling with Soap, John had intended to go home to his empty flat in Liverpool, drink himself silly and wait for a call, maybe binge the football games he'd missed in the chaos. Pay his mum a visit.

However it had been Darren’s casual offer that brought him to this portion of the rural united states. Darren, the last to join his task force. A good friend and former teammate of Alex Keller. Price had been pleased with the man’s skills, stealing him like he had done with the others, and Darren’s presence had been invaluable in the hunt for Makarov, securing himself as part of the team as well as snuggling him in just as nicely with his other teammates.

Darren spoke fondly of his home, particularly of his baby sister, whom he fretted for and praised in equal measure. “Ruby’s sharp, smarter than me by a long shot,” he tells them, the 5 of them crammed into their favorite booth of the local pub, “She’s just on her own out there, I know she does just fine, but still.”

Price knew of her, had met her before, years ago at an awards ceremony. She was a pretty thing, all big soft curves and dark freckles on her round cheeks. He’d stolen her to his side most of the night, dancing and laughing, but circumstance had them parting without exchanging contact. Their time together had been brief, but he’d be lying if hadn't layed in bed that evening, hand on his cock as he thought about how the pretty warm thing would sound mewling underneath him.

And maybe some more nights after that.

Price had listened intently when Darren spoke of her. From what he could gather, she was in fact doing just fine. Having been the first to snag a college degree, something to do with animal sciences if he remembered correctly. According to Darren she ran her own small scale wildlife rehab. “Nuthin’ crazy, mostly just the critters folks find hurt or without their mommas” he’d explained in his soft southern drawl. Showing them videos of a fawn trying and failing to walk over his home’s hardwood floors, as a familiar feminine voice encouraged the babe to give it another go, biting off giggles somewhere off camera.

Her laugh was just as sweet as Price remembered, and he’d decided then and there that he would travel to the asscrack of southern america just to hear it again.

It had already been discussed that Soap and Gaz would go to London, spend some time with Gaz’s family while Soap waited for his checkup with a neurologist. Darren would return to his shared home with said sister, Ghost in tow. “You should come too Cap, take a break for a while, it’s outta the way, and we got plenty of space. Ru won't mind!” he’d beamed.

Price had pretended to contemplate before agreeing in mock reluctance, hiding his smirk behind his glass as he downed the rest of his scotch. Sure, why not?

Price’s attention is pulled again as Darren makes another turn down an unmarked road. They trundle along the long gravel drive, through the trees until a house blooms into few.

It’s a two-story, rustic looking thing, with off-white paneling, and dark shingles. The paint is chipping and weeds grow tall around the foundation. What looks to be tractor tires lay on their sides in the front yard, acting as makeshift flower beds for soft purple irises and yellow coneflowers. He figures the place has been around long enough to see several generations come and go.

Price watches curiously as a gaggle of guinea fowl mosey around the front yard, pecking at the ground, unperturbed as the 3 men pile out of Darren’s vehicle. It’s quiet, save for the sound of rustling trees and the soft clucking of more fowl in the back. However, it only takes one slam of the car door to shatter the peace. A loud and vicious snarling and barking comes from inside the home. Something large and apparently very displeased knocking itself against the windows and door of the old house. Price half readies himself as the front door opens, a bulky gray pitbull barreling out and launching over the steps entirely in its haste to reach the men.

The slobbering dog’s demeanor rapidly shifts from violent snarls to whining excitement as he recognizes Darren. Lacking a tail to waggle, the dog’s whole ass-end shakes wildly as it bounces and sneezes around the sergeant, leaning against Darren’s legs bodily.

“Hey, Blue” Darren chuckles, leaning down to give the goofy dog a pat.

Blue breaks away, wiggles turning shy as it snuffles carefully at Simon and Price’s boots, dodging away intermittently at any shift in movement, only to get distracted and start bouncing again as Darren coos. Simon is the first to earn the pup’s trust, angling his body away slightly and crouching. Hands clasped in front of him as he lets the dog get some more sniffs of his t-shirt, eventually Blue settles his heavy head on Simon’s tattooed forearm, trembling slightly in excitement as Simon gives him a rub between the ears.

Next was John, who also crouches, offering a hand palm down for the beast to sniff. The dog obliges, standing stock still as it investigates very seriously. Snuffling with the fervor of a hog at every inch of Price. Eventually Blue sucks in one long drawn out whiff, gears turning as he processes.

The moments tick by as Blue finalizes his decision. Giving an answer in the form of a big bodily sneeze to the captain’s hand.

Scan complete: Test passed.

Pleased, the goofy mutt circles him happily, leaning most of his weight onto John’s legs as he stands. The white’s of Blue’s eyes visible as he cranes his head back to stare at John, wishful for a pat. Of which John obliges after wiping the snot from his hand with a good natured laugh.

“Blue!! Sorry he's a slob!” comes an apologetic call in the distance.

John looks up, heart fluttering like a teenager at the sight.

There she is. His pretty thing, swinging her way out the door and into the yard, looking slightly embarrassed. John tries not to stare at the way her soft body bounces as she trots down the steps.

Darren is quick to snag her up in a bear hug, squeezing her hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She returns with equal fervor, the pair of them grunting with the force of it before setting her down, ruffling her hair to be a shithead for added effect.

She's just as he remembered her, standing a foot or so shorter than her brother. Bulky in the shoulders like him too, albeit much softer. All of her is really, with round freckled cheeks framed by wavy red hair that spilled down her back. Full frame on display in a plain tank and shorts for the humid summer air.

She fixes her hair with a huff, elbowing Darren sharply before grinning at the men with an innocent smile. Fucking adorable. John can't help but smile back.

Darren makes reintroductions, gesturing between them.

“I’m tickled to see you boys again.” she chimes, and John wastes no time, stepping closer and offering a hand.

“We appreciate the hospitality, Miss Martin” John replies warmly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as she accepts. Price’s hand engulfs hers, and he gives her a gentle squeeze, holding on a bit longer than necessary, taking brief pleasure in the way her cheeks flush.

“Ruby’s just fine” she corrects with scrunch of her nose, pulling her hand away to greet Ghost as well. “Sorry about this, I promise I got manners. Darri just told me you guys would be in later.” she says pointedly, giving Darren a look. The soft drawl of her accent was more prominent than her brothers, melodic and laid-back in a way that put Price at ease.

“But I did fetch groceries” she chimes, jabbing a thumb to the black SUV. “Just got back with em’, just need them loaded inside and I can fix us some lunch. You okay with sandwiches Captain?”

“Just John” he corrects easily, “And that sounds perfect.”

“Well alright ‘Just John’, gimme a hand?” she fires back, “You two also, more hands is less work and this midday heat is the worst”

John gives her a curt nod, glancing at Darren who is giving him an unreadable look, and Simon who eyes him knowingly over Darren’s shoulder.

John stares at the back of the SUV. The woman had quite literally bought enough groceries to feed a whole army. Not to mention the extra large sacks filled with various feed for the animals. John wasted no time loading as many plastic sacks along his arms as he could, Darren and Simon following suit. Hauling them in without a sound and dropping them on the kitchen table before fetching more. Ruby hurriedly putting away groceries as an assembly line of men deposited plastic bags along the floor.

John also loads the bags of feed over his shoulders dutifully, trotting back inside, Simon close behind.

“Oh, hey! I just needed the groceries in, I could’ve got that!” she exclaims upon seeing them, eyes wide as both men stand there. Carrying the bags with easy expressions, as if they weighed nothing at all.

“Well I’ve got them, now where do they need to go miss?”

“Ruby” she corrects again, moving closer as if to take them herself. Neither one of them budge.

“Okay, where do these need to go Miss Ruby?” he tries again, cracking a smile at her exasperated expression.

Ruby shoos them outside, pointing to a corner of the porch for them to be deposited, before herding them back inside and to finally sit down at her small round kitchen table.

The kitchen is outdated, with old floral wallpaper, and several well worn rugs placed over scuffed laminate flooring. Faded red plaid curtains hang in the window, illuminating the plethora of cherry themed knick knacks and kitchenware she has displayed along the tops of her cabinets and countertops. He finds himself charmed by the cozyness of it, a welcome change from off white walls and overhead lights.

Darren sits between them, chatting lightly about how the place was once his aunts, passed down to them after she met that fella in vegas. Price's eyes flicker between Darren and the pretty thing puttering around in the kitchen beside him. He loses himself a bit in fantasy, thinking how she would look with a ring on her finger, or wearing his clothes. He wonders if she loves antique malls and shady hole-in-the-wall burger joints.

One step at a time. If Price could do nothing else, he could certainly execute a plan. He would just need to tread carefully. This was one of his sergeant’s siblings after all.

He continues his scan, looking for more clues when a rather curious sound hits his ears. He shifts his attention behind him, watching Ruby pluck store bought grapes from the vine and into a bowl with various other cut up fruits. She examines each one, placing the grapes she deems suitable onto the tray and lowering the unwanted grapes into what he assumed to be a trash can at first. However, shortly after she brings her hand back, a loud and intense smacking follows, seemingly coming from the kitchen floor.

For a split second he is about to tell her it isn't good to feed dogs grapes before Blue comes waddling around the corner, looking properly dejected. The smacking, however, continues, making his brows furrow.

What the hell?

Was there another dog he hadn't spotted?

Price sits up straighter in his chair, straining to see around the little mobile kitchen island. By now the noise has caught everyone’s attention. He gives Darri a questioning look, who only meets him with a mischievous grin, shrugging his shoulders. Look for yourself.

Curiosity gets the better of him, and Price eases himself up, leaning around the kitchen island carefully to finally spot the noisy offender.

Chomping messily on the kitchen mat is a chubby little thing, with wirey white and grey fur, tinges of pink painting the tip of its little black ears. Its white mouth stained pink from its fruit eating. Is that a bloody possum? It rises to its haunches, tugging at Ruby’s pant leg insistently before she lowers it another piece of fruit. It’s tiny pinky fingers snagging it clumsily before it shovels the fruit into its maw, chewing with comically loud smacks and tilting its little head back to help the food slide down. Blue sits around the corner moping, waiting patiently for his own grape that Ruby forbids in a soft voice.

Price watches Ruby wrinkle her nose as pieces of fruit fall in a sticky mess to the floor before clearing his throat politely.

The redhead jumps at the noise, whirling to face him with wide eyes. She stands sheepishly, frozen as her eyes flick between Price and the very obvious possum sitting on her kitchen floor.

She presses her lips together firmly, trying to seal in her laughter as she takes in Price’s bewildered expression. He raises a brow at her, tilting his head to the side in question, and stifled giggles break into a laugh, full and loud, the force of it making her soft body shake. Price laughs too, easing a little closer to get a better look.

“Y’gonna tell me what you got there? Or was I not supposed to see em’?”

“Well you see” she drawls, like a child trying to explain why she shouldn't get in trouble. ”I was gonna give a more formal introduction, but the little shit snuck in once he heard the plastic crinkinlin’.” she laughs, scooping the animal up with a flourish and stepping closer to Price. “This is Cotton, got him when he was just a baby. He’s not fit to go back into the wild, so he just stays with me, does ambassador stuff for the Game and Fish when they need him.” she explains, bouncing the giant rat in her arms like a baby.

She shifts him to her soft hip, its pink tail twisting around her arm for security as it snuffles the air. Ruby scoots close enough for Price to smell the shampoo in her hair, flashing him a grin and swearing Cotton doesn't bite (most of the time). Price studies the animal with an amused expression, letting it sniff his hand before scritching between his ears. He’s much softer than Price expected, the critter grabbing at his hand with cold little fingers, presumably looking to see if he has more fruit to part with.

Price watches as she takes a little tour to the table. Darren giving the possum a familiar, too rough scrub to the head before Ruby rounds to show Ghost. As she approaches the little bastard wiggles from her arms and onto the broad soldier. Scrabbling onto Ghost's shoulders and snuffling in his ears and hair.

Ruby begins to panic, reaching for Cotton frantically, but Ghost holds up a hand, utterly unphased. He sits still, letting the little beast inspect him for a moment before snagging Cotton by the scruff and plopping him in his arms. There is a little amused huff from the large man, who lets the possum settle against his chest as if it were a house cat and not an oversized rodent.

Price smiles at the sight.

What a fun stay this will be.

#john price x oc #price x oc #john price #oc: ruby martin #oc: darren martin #simon ghost riley #call of duty #secondhand news #wildcraft writing #captain john price

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lokisprettygirl · 5 months

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Rain to his Fire (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon 80s Au) (18+)

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summary: In 1985, you were assigned as a custodian in the King's Landing Psychiatric inpatient and wellness center after your mother's passing. Your job was mundane and boring, but that was until a new patient arrived, a young man with a wild and eccentric personality, harbouring a secret that will change your life forever.

Warning: 18+, discussion of mental health (it's a fic based in a mental health facility), the fic would contain several mentions of several disorders like mpd, did etc, if something triggers you don't read, smoking.

“Room 393 needs cleaning up, new guy is coming” you heard your supervisor Mona so you sighed and quickly nodded. Working as a custodian in a mental health facility wasn't ever really a dream job for you but you didn't have any option at the moment. Your mother had worked all her life for the center and when she passed, as per her request beforehand, the job was immediately offered to you, and you had debts to pay so you couldn't really deny that offer.

At thirty you didn't really see your life heading towards anything better anyways and you didn't really despise working here. Helping people feel good at times. Your job wasn't limited to cleaning services, you would often get assigned to patients who needed a caregiver for physical and emotional needs.

King's landing psychiatric inpatient and wellness center was a six floor building at the outskirts of London, it was established in 1955 and your mother had started her job the same year, it's been thirty years now and two years since she had passed, she was living nearby because she was married and had a child, you on other hand didn't want to travel back n forth so you chose to live here itself as a permanent live in staff of the wellness center.

You were accustomed to seeing patients coming in for various disorders, most were delusional at worst or suffered from some sort of dysphoria. However, the patients at the King's Landing Wellness Center were not usually considered dangerous and you had never felt threatened by any one of them except a few women who lashed out at you and pushed you around last year. But with time, you had learned to provide them with the care and attention they needed instead of judging them for the outburst.

“Are you listening y/n?” You snapped back to reality as Mona called your name and gathered your cleaning cart to go fix room 393, there was this girl that had just gotten released from the facility, Tanya, she was a shy, quiet girl in her mid twenties with a debilitating case of multiple personality disorder.

You mostly kept to yourself at the facility as you didn't want to get involved or too overly attached with the patients.

The moment you took the mattress off to deep clean the bed, you discovered a piece of paper underneath. Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to open it. Once you saw the writing on the paper, a feeling of unease coursed through your body, the words seemed almost ominous

“They are going to hurt me. I know, I'll never get out of here, if you find this please make sure to check up on me please”

You sighed before you folded the paper and placed it inside your apron quickly before it would get lost. What did she mean you wondered? The centre was under the supervision of three doctors. Doctor Vis was a man in his early forties and he was the most feared of all three because of his unorthodox methods of treatment but the other two doctors, Lisa and Darren seemed more approachable.

As you made your way out of room 393, you saw Doctor Vis standing in the hallway, having a conversation with another man. The other man stood with his back against the wall while Doctor Vis stood uncomfortably close to him, he was handcuffed so you assumed that he was being aggressive in his therapy session, as you walked past them you looked at the man briefly and normally you'd have looked away but this time you couldn't for some reason, he had a shiny silver hair that you had never really seen on a man before and it caught your eye immediately. The uniform he had on wasn't a surprise as it was a dress code for the patients, a white shirt and same coloured trousers.

His eyes met yours briefly and he smirked so you looked away immediately ,

“You didn't tell me you hired such beautiful chicks around here to be your servant-” Daemon had barely finished his sentence before Vis grabbed his collar to warn him. Vis looked as you walked past them and turned to make left into the hallway, disappearing out of their sight.

“Don't make this more difficult than it already is you moron”

Dr. Vis escorted Daemon into the room where he was immediately uncuffed. With the doctor now gone, Daemon let out an angry roar before throwing the chair into the room's window, shattering it into pieces.

“New guy is here” you mumbled as you reached the canteen. The rest of the staff members, including those from the pantry and cleaning services, were already gathered at the table. Shyla, who was the same age as you approached you. But in contrast to you, Shyla appeared to have a backup plan in mind after her tenure here.

“Oh god have you guys seen him, he's really hotttt in a really weird way”

You gulped as she said that, she always lived on the edge, it was unprofessional and unethical to talk about patients this way. Besides, he wasn't hot at all.

“Cut out with the heart eyes girl he must be a cuckoo to be here”

Another woman, Dina , intervened as she whispered very quietly, you didn't appreciate her language but then she wasn't wrong, sane people didn't come here.

“Hey y/n, new patient broke the window in 393, clean it up”

Mona suddenly entered the canteen so you sighed but then you were left feeling confused.

“How did he break it? Those windows are supposed to be unbreakable” you asked her curiously as the windows in the patient's room were specifically designed to withstand extreme conditions and were built to be unbreakable for security reasons.

“Don't question what's and how's, do your job girl” she glared at you so you picked up your cleaning cart again.

As you entered room 393, you spotted the new patient on the bed, seemingly engrossed in a book. Your brow furrowed as you took in the sight of the debris of shattered glass scattered around the room. Quickly, you grabbed a broom and began the cleaning process, starting from the corners to ensure that you picked up every last shard. As you swept, you couldn't help but feel puzzled as to how the window was broken in the first place,

“You shouldn't be doing such things, they are not afraid of sending violent patients to the lone ward” you mumbled so he looked up from his book and then glanced at you from top to bottom before he let out a snicker.

“Awnnn do you get paid to offer advice around here or cleaning is your only area of expertise?”

You glared at him as he said that but you remained calm, you couldn't raise your voice with patients even though you had been wanting to do it for a long while now.

“Sir im just-” you cringed internally as you addressed him as sir, it wasn't a norm but then you didn't really know his name yet. He had changed out of his uniform so you couldn't even read the name tag.

“Do your fucking job girl and get out”

You cut back on your words as he spoke rudely to you, perhaps he was admitted for extreme anger issues, whatever it was you just wanted to get out and not see him at least for a day.

You missed Tanya, she was a sweet girl, and you hadn't forgotten the note you had found under her bed this morning but then she wasn't exactly stable in her mind, people often scribbled down their most intrusive thoughts in their free time, and there was abundance of that around here. Besides you had bid her goodbye, she had hugged you warmly and she seemed happier for once.

During the lunch service you saw his smug face again as he sat down in the corner of the cafeteria, his eyes met with yours and he gave you a small smile but you didn't return it. Though you didn't want to take his words personally, he was dealing with something and that's why he was here.

“Mrs Rodriguez, are you finished with your food?” You asked the elderly lady so she snapped out of her thoughts and nodded but as you raised your hand forward to pick up her plate she grabbed your hand,

“Simon thinks i should eat less” she mumbled almost fearfully and your heart clenched for her, Simon was merely a figment of her imagination.

“Well he's wrong because you are eating as much as you should” she let go of your hand and smiled as you said that to her. When you reached around his table you noticed that he hadn't even touched his food,

“Are you going to eat sir? Your half an hour is almost over” you asked him so he chuckled. New patients in the center had strict rules and regulations to follow during the beginning of their treatment.

“Who should I be asking around here for a smoke?” He asked you and your brows furrowed.

“That's not allowed, i will help you with a nicotine patch if you're feeling restless -” he rolled his eyes as you said that.

“I don't need that shit” he grumbled under his breath so you looked at the time. Looking at him you couldn't really tell what actually was wrong with him, well besides the anger issues obviously, he seemed almost normal, almost self aware which really wasn't usual around this place.

“Please finish your food, dinner service is around 8 and a man of your size won't get any nutrition from the snacks we offer during tea time” you spoke a bit sternly and the corner of his mouth curved into a small smile.

“What's your name y/n?” He asked you so you looked at him baffled, he clearly read your name on the badge and he said it as well.

“I don't know your name either” you mumbled politely so he gave you a smile

“Daemon”

“Have an easy day Mr. Daemon, first few days are always difficult” you ultimately grabbed his plate as you left because he didn't seem to be in any mood to eat at the time.

Around evening as you finished your shift you made your way to your room at the fourth floor to take a shower and relax a bit. You took out the note you had found under Tanya's bed and placed it inside your cupboard safely, a part of you continued to feel uneasy about this thing, another was thinking about Daemon.

Why was he there? What had he done? You were not allowed to enquire about these things unless or until you were told the information by the authorities.

Daemon couldn't really sleep at night, how could he? He was locked up in here and was being treated as if he was crazy but he knew what he was and he wasn't delusional about it either. Even as sleep came for him he had a horrible nightmare that had him tossing and turning in his bed again so he woke up and stepped out of his room quietly as the room was starting to suffocate him. That's when he found the window at the end of the corridor and that was all he needed.

Around 2 at night, you were enjoying a peaceful moment to yourself on the terrace of the building, taking a break with a cigarette. As you were absorbed in your own thoughts, you heard a loud thud sound from behind you. Startled, you jumped and quickly turned around, only to find the new patient, Daemon, standing there. You couldn't believe how he had gotten there, he didn't have the key to the door and you clearly remembered locking it when you had gotten in. The terrace was strictly off-limits to patients for obvious reasons.

“What..are you doing here, you can't be here mister” you almost sounded frantic and kind of scared to be honest. And why didn't he have a shirt on? It was freaking cold out here. And why was he so freaking ripped?

“Hooking me up with a bloody nicotine patch when you got this sweet thing right here?” he asked you as he approached you so you took a few steps behind you until you had hit the ledge. You quickly threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it under your flip flops before he could attempt to steal it from you.

“Now that's a waste of a good cigarette” he almost seemed offended with his brows furrowed and scowl on his face.

“Look, don't come near me alright?” You warned him so he crossed his arms and stepped closer to you despite your warning.

“I'm not going to harm you, I can, don't get me wrong.. but I won't”

Was that supposed to make you feel better?

“Please come with me, let me take you to your room .. please”

As he heard your gentle voice his teeth gritted together. “Please just listen to me ..it's only best for you” You brought your arm forward to grab his forearm but you flinched away as soon as you had touched his skin.

“Are you sick? You're burning like a furnace” You asked him worriedly so he scratched his scalp before he looked around and took a deep breath “And how did you get here?”

“I'm not sick, do I look sick to you?” He asked you so you shook your head but that was pointless, if he was a regular smoker, perhaps he was feeling the withdrawal.

“Just one puff, I'll be indebted to you forever darling, please, what do you want me to do beg? I can beg on my knees .You want that?..”

“Ohhh shut up for god's sake -” You cut him off mid sentence as he started to ramble but the stupid smirk on his face was still there. “I'll lose my job Daemon -”

“Nobody will know”

“I can't do it.. please understand please..”

He sighed and the pleading look on your face made him willing to listen to you ultimately.

How did he even come up here? You had come via the main entrance and it was locked from inside. As you escorted him back to his room, you mumbled a quick good night but he suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you against the door, your heart was right into your mouth at the moment for several different reasons, you had been pushed over by several women at the facility but never a man, especially not a man like him who seemed so strong and so unstable. If worse comes to worse you knew you wouldn't be able to defend yourself.

“Daemon let go of me” you mumbled sternly but his hands were on your upper arms, holding you tightly still. He wasn't hurting you, not yet at least.

“Shhhhh shhh shhhh” as he whispered in your ear you were going to scream but nothing came out of your throat, not even a squeak, you feared that he was going to touch you inappropriately, if this wasn't inappropriate as it was, but then he placed his nose on the crook of your neck and took a sniff. Like a wild animal he sniffed you, literally.

One sniff, two sniff, and then one two three at once, you couldn't help but wonder why you weren't feeling as uncomfortable as you should have in a similar situation.

“What are you doing?” You asked him gently to not aggregate him so he looked you right in the eyes before he cupped your cheeks and stared at your lips, his nose rubbed slightly against yours before he closed his eyes, grunted a little and finally stepped away from you. His chest was heaving from breathlessness, same as yours as you both stared at each other for a moment. What the hell was that?

“Get out lady”

He mumbled so you immediately got the fuck out of there, you were looking behind every step of the way to see if he was following you but he wasn't. At the end of the corridor you stopped as suddenly, your feet came in contact with a piece of fabric on the floor, and when you bent down to investigate, you realized it was Daemon's shirt but it was completely shredded in several pieces - the same shirt he had worn this evening.

The realization left you feeling even more puzzled and disoriented. How had he managed to enter the terrace when it was locked from the outside. It seemed impossible. It was impossible. Or perhaps there was another way? Or maybe you were going crazy yourself? Now that was possible.

As your head hit your pillow you ran your fingers over your neck, right where he was sniffing, he seemed so...so primal in that moment, so animalistic, if that was the right choice of word. Did you atleast smell good? God you hoped so. Or not. He was a patient, you had to keep that in mind, he had issues.

The next morning while Daemon was away for his therapy session with the doctors you decided to clean up his room, he had left you feeling a bit unnerved last night with his strange behavior but you weren't really scared of him and then you wondered why you weren't scared of him after what he had done.

The iron bars on his window were the first thing you had noticed as you had entered the room. As you heard loud footsteps approaching the room you quickly collected your stuff to prepare to leave.

As Dr. Vis entered with Daemon he looked at you and spoke politely “Will you please step out ?” Vis asked you so you nodded immediately.

“Yes doctor, I'm almost done” you grabbed your cart and walked past them, your eyes met with Daemon and he seemed angry, but also really sad? His eyes were read and teary, such a contrast from his snarky demeanor yesterday.

As the door slammed shut, you found yourself in a state of morbid curiosity. So instead of minding your own business as you should have, you pressed your ear against the door instead, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside. Why did he look so sad?

“You had promised you wouldn't start with the absurdity right off the bat” Dr. Vis yelled at Daemon and that bothered you. Why was he yelling at a patient like this on his second day?

“Absurdity? You think me speaking of my true self is absurd?” Daemon asked the doctor and you didn't understand what was happening, what was he suffering from?

Dazed and confused as you reached the staff area Shyla walked around the table with a smirk on her face so you finally gave in.

“What?”

As you asked her she slammed her hands on the table in a dramatic manner.

“I found out why the new guy is here”

You weren't the one to gossip but you really wanted to know why Daemon was there? Why was he here? What was hurting him?

“How did you find out?” You asked her to seem disinterested as you didn't want to make your interest apparent.

“I have my source girl” she patted herself on shoulders so you crossed your arms together.

“Uhuh and what did your source tell you?”

“Well you're not ready for this-"

“Just spill it already” you chuckled as you spoke but the way she was stalling had only gotten you more curious.

“He thinks..now listen to this..he thinks he's a dragon” she mumbled excitedly so you stared at her all perplexed.

“What?”

“The new guy believes that he's a human dragon hybrid or something like that.. unbelievable right?”

Oh well!! That was a big problem huh.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

#daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader angst #modern day au #non canon au

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sebsxphia · 2 years

Note

The “who hurt you “ trope but you show up at Rhetts door at 2am

-🥊😘

“who hurt you?”

rhett abbott x reader.

￫ c/w: mentions of violence and injury, descriptions of injury, mentions of abuse, swearing, kissing, rhett is a big softie who wants to protect you.

￫ a/n: @sandbarbirdie bIRDIE YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS TROPE WITH RHETT, TURN THIS UPPP <3 i started writing this and it turned into a full fic, woah! i understand this topic is heavy so please, please dm or inbox me with any c/w that i’ve missed or if you just want to talk, i’m here to listen, always. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Rhett’s sure he heard the knocking on his front door. He was coming out of his slumber and couldn’t work out if it was in his dream, or real life, but then he heard the knocking again, far louder this time. He was sure that it was a pounding on his front door. He slipped on a pair of boxers from the day before and a plaid shirt was thrown haphazardly over his shoulders. It was freezing during the Wabang winters now and he would be damned if he was going to catch a cold.

He padded down the stairs and into his hallway to hear another pounding. His door was shaking with the force. “I’m coming, Jesus fu—” He unlocked the door and opened it to see you with your hands wrapped tightly around your arms, and trying to incase some of the warmth into your shaking frame from the cold. You peered up at him and squinted your eyes at the warm brightness inside his home. The light purple bruise on your eye that was starting to form made it harder to look at him. The gash on the side of your temple was boring into your skull, with dried blood trickling down onto your cheek. “Jesus Christ.” He muttered under his breath and your name in tow, before ushering you quickly you inside.

He shed the plaid shirt and wrapped it around your quivering shoulders. He gently cupped your face in the hallway where you both stood still and tilted you up to look at him. He was hyper-aware that there could be other injuries he wasn’t aware of. You looked at him with guilt spreading across your face. It was sheepish almost, but Rhett wore a look of only worry on his face.

“Who hurt you?” His tone was firm and unwavering.

You were childhood sweethearts long ago and you’d both enjoyed your younger teenage years together and early adult lives, but things got in the way and you were no longer together.

“Shit happens,” Is what you told Rhett, however you found in the more recent months, you were getting closer to each other again. Sometimes you wondered late at night if you could ever truly tear apart from one another. The relationship you held with each other could never be argued about or even understood. The only thing he knew is that he would bury someone in the ground for you and protect you with his still, beating heart.

His eyes bore into yours awaiting your reply. He was waiting for the name of who he was going to ruin the next day. You knew your Rhett and his tendencies to loose all control over anyone who would even dare to look your way, so you opted for the safer option, not looking him in the eye when you told him. You pulled away from his soft hold and stumbled to the kitchen chair and slouched down. “Darren.” You muttered out, looking down at your scuffed cowboy boots, a gift from Rhett for your twenty first birthday.

“Darren.” Rhett repeated with a grunt and clenched fists by his sides. Darren was your new fling and while Rhett knew about him, and he knew he had no real hold on you anymore, it burned at his insides like acid. Rhett also knew he had no place to ask what you were doing with Darren, but he needed to know why you showed up at his door at two in the morning with blood running down your face and a nasty bruise forming on your eye.

Rhett reached for the first aid kit in the top kitchen cupboard and came to kneel by your side in the dimly lit kitchen. His nostrils were flared and you saw how he was trying to steady his breathing. Shallow and deep breaths came out of him, and you knew he was already plotting his downfall.

Rhett broke the tense silence first. “What the fuck did Darren do t’ you, angel?”

That name. Fuck sake. That fucking name. Rhett’s words were laced with venom, poised and ready to attack your attacker but the name “angel,” simply made tears swell in your eyes and it stung the bruised one. You remembered when Rhett called you angel. It was always during the softer times at night when your bodies were entwined with each other, talking about your future together, or when he consoled you after you didn’t get into your dream college.

“He wasn’t aiming for me. He went for some guy standing next to me, but he ducked at the right time and Darren’s fist met me instead.”

Rhett scoffed and made a mental note that Darren had a lazy punch. That would be good to know for tomorrow.

He dipped the cotton ball in the luke warm water and dabbed cautiously at the wound on your temple. You let out a hiss, gritting your teeth together and scrunching your eyes shut. Another groan left your chapped lips as the pain in your eye swelled from the scrunching. You felt one of Rhett’s hands rest on your jean clad thigh and give it a reassuring squeeze, his thumb running soothing circles over your flesh. “I know, I know. It’s gon’ sting, I’m sorry.” Rhett never apologised to anyone. Only you.

“If it were me punching some guy f’ you, I wouldn’t do it anywhere near you.”

You huffed out a small laugh at Rhett’s attempt to ease the pain. “I know. I remember.” You reminded him.

“Did you drive?”

You hesitated on your answer. No matter the response, it wasn’t going to help you try and hide what happened.

“No, I ran.”

Rhett’s eyebrows twisted downwards ever so slightly.

“I live a good mile away from town, angel.”

“After everything happened I screamed at Darren, like I lost it Rhett.” You twiddled with the hem of your t-shirt as Rhett continued to patch you up. You still couldn’t look at him. You felt shame clouding your senses. “He lost it back at me. I’d never seen him like that. I mean sure, we’ve only been dating like a month, but… But you really see peoples true colours when they’re drunk, huh.”

Your statement was laced with a double meaning. You remembered when Rhett got drunk, sure he would defend you within an inch of your life, but he would never scream at you. Never. He would cling to you all night and whisper sweet nothings in your ear about how you were the only one for him. It stung more than the wound on the side of your face to know that you might’ve lost that.

Rhett stuck a butterfly band aid to the side of your face and cleaned up the rest of your blood. “‘nd the gash?” He paused. “He punched you, angel. Y’ don’t get that after a blow t’ the eye.”

Now Rhett was finished with bandaging you up, he could slip his hands to yours and give them a light squeeze. He wanted you to know that he was here. He was going to listen to anything you had to say and reassure you with all his might. The tears that had pooled in your eyes from before were now slipping over and onto your cheeks. You held his gaze and bit your bottom lip harshly. You were trying to stop the sobs that wanted to tear from your throat. You winced as you reminisced what followed after and how you got the gash.

You didn’t need to say it, Rhett knew.

His eyes softened at seeing you like this. He wanted to reassure you that he heard you, but he felt a bile form in his throat. He could feel it threatening to spew out of him. The idea of someone intentionally hurting his angel made him nauseous.

“I was s’ scared. I didn’t know anywhere else to go, expect here.” You blubbered out between small sobs now leaving your throat. Rhett shuffled closer to you and removed his hands from yours to hold your face again, lovingly.

“You don’t have t’ be scared anymore, angel. Y’ can always find your way back home ‘ere.”

You nodded in his hands and gave him a thankful look with all you could muster without your face contorting into pain again.

“Can I stay with you tonight, Rhett? Please?”

Rhett was baffled that you even had to ask, but he understood that the injuries could very easily adhere your thinking.

“Of course, angel. I’ll always protect you.” A featherlight kiss was pressed to your cheek. He could taste your salty tears and it only made his insides wrench further in disgust at the man, no boy, who hurt you. No man would do this.

He bent down and wrapped his arms around your waist, and you instinctively hoisted yourself onto his. You rested your head into the crook of his shoulder. One hand cradled your legs as they attached to his hips and another softly smoothed over the back of your hair. You inhaled his familiar scent of cedar wood and spearmint. You felt safe as Rhett carried you to his bed that was once yours as well.

He sat you on what used to be your side of the bed and the mattress moved underneath you, as if to welcome your figure that once laid there. He gently shed you of his plaid shirt and your t-shirt underneath. In between the loss of your clothes, he pressed another feather light kiss to your cheek.

“You okay?” He checked in with you. When you nodded in response, he retrieved your old sleep shirt from his chest of drawers. He shed a slither of embarrassment at the prospect of still keeping your clothes, but it melted away when you accepted it with the first smile on your face that he had seen all evening.

“Arms up,” His voice was a soft instruction. You did as he asked and he slipped the top over you. It fitted like a warm hug, something that always fitted you perfectly. Just like Rhett. “I’ll help y’ take off y’ jeans now alright, angel?” He knelt down and brushed his fingers over the button and zipper. He un-did them with ease and slipped your jeans off. It was like you were a deer that he had seen in the forest who he didn’t want to spook. You’d always appreciated Rhett’s softer side.

However, his softness contorted into ferocious anger once again on his face. His eyebrows furrowed as he saw the second graze on your kneecap. “I fell to my knees after, he— he—” Your voice wavered again and you felt the tears sting at your waterline once more.

“I know, angel. I know. It’s not as bad as the others, I can patch it up tomorrow, alright?” Rhett reached up to wipe the one tear off your cheek. His lips gently met your flesh just above the graze on your kneecap and you sniffled at his adoring touch.

All clothes and shoes were now shed, and he picked up the empty glass on his bedside table. He went to leave the room but you stopped him in the doorway with a hold on his wrist. You looked at him with a pleading look and a small pout on your lips. You didn’t want him to leave you.

“It’s okay, angel. I’m jus’ goin’ t’ the bathroom t’ get you some water.” You hesitantly let go and got back into bed, shuffling up to the headboard and tucking your knees under your chin.

The weight of the mattress dipped again when Rhett sat next to you. He held the glass at the base while your still trembling hands held onto one side, helping you drink. “I’ll fill it up again for the night ‘nd then come into bed with you, alright?” He pressed a kiss to your temple, the side that wasn’t injured. You nodded in response and pulled the covers over your body, and slouched down into the pillows.

They smelt like Rhett, and you inhaled his scent and hair products again, deeper this time. The smell that flooded your nostrils made you inhale deeply. You felt a breath you’d been holding onto all night slip out. Rhett came back and made his way round to the other side of the bed. He slinked in beside you and you could feel his fingers rest on your upper arm first, testing the waters. He felt you relax under his touch and he took it as a welcome signal. You shuffled back into him and he slid his arm around yours and pulled you into his warm chest, his chin resting just above your head.

Another kiss was placed to the top of your head and you heard Rhett speak up, his drawl coaxing his words. A familiarity you’d missed so much recently. “You’re safe, angel. I’m never lettin’ you go again.”

That was the last thing you heard Rhett murmur to you before you fell asleep in his arms. Safe at last.

taglist:

@tallrock35

@iloveprettyboysblog

#💌you’ve got mail #sandbarbirdie #<333 #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott drabble #lewis pullman #outer range

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remembrancer-of-heresy · 3 months

Text

Replica (Part 3)

Summary: It seems even the primarch doesn't understand who you are to him.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda), possessive behavior, manipulation, hint of masturbation.

Word Count: 2397

While I was writing this part, I was listening "Darren Korb - Song of the Sirens". Hope you enjoy it.

Song: Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

Perturabo fulfilled his promise. No one else dared to offend or touch you. All serfs knew this and even the Space Marines had to reckon with it. You still couldn’t figure out how you managed to earn such an attitude from the Primarch of the Iron Warriors. But you don't want to complain, just enjoy your new life.

You began to live next to the Iron Lord in the next room. It had already amazed you with size and wealth, but this was not enough for the primarch. He began to reinterpret it, adding new details that, according to him, you should like. No, he knew you would be delighted with them.

Even your wardrobe has undergone changes. No more gray serf robes. Although you weren’t able to wear such strict and sophisticated outfits as the girls from Olympia. Instead of complex hairstyles, your hair was always loose or tied up in something simple. When Perturabo first saw you like this, he was about to reprimand you, but in the end he changed his mind.

You even got two servants. You tried to resist such innovations, but the primarch refused your request. After all, a girl of your position is supposed to have maids. Besides, if you refuse, the serfs will be sent to do hard work. You didn't get to experience such life, but you heard enough from the other slaves to make your skin crawl. Seeing the fear in your eyes, Perturabo grinned, noticing that you were always kind.

Sometimes you forget about his other side.

You were also aware that the primarch continued to attack Imperial worlds, taking resources in the form of fuel and people for the Iron Blood. He consumed all living things and left hell behind. It was frightening and devastating. You should have felt disgust and pure horror towards him. But as soon as you saw the primarch again, only tenderness remained in your soul. Perturabo continued to pamper you in every possible way with an absolutely stoic face.

Although sometimes you were puzzled by him. Once he told you about the customs of Olympia, when mature young men chose a new name for themselves. Perturabo, of course, refused to follow this rule and you shook your head and whispered his name. At this moment, the man tensed and looked at you. Closely and deciding.

“Perhaps you would like to undergo this ritual?” - the primarch began carefully. You became nervous at how slowly he chose his words. As if afraid of your reaction. And it’s not clear which one exactly. - “I know a suitable name.”

“But I’m not a young man. Besides, I like my name. Do you like it?” - You smiled softly at the man, gently placing your small hand on his. The Iron Lord looked at it and then into your eyes. Did you imagine or did you see a mixture of disappointment and relief? It was as if he himself was not sure what answer he wanted to hear.

"Yes. It's very beautiful".

Finding yourself in the primarch's favor, you nevertheless spent all your time only with yourself or with the Iron Lord. But soon Perturabo completely forbade you to leave your room under any pretext. According to the lord, Iron Blood will have to go to a rather dangerous place and not alone. Moreover, the primarch's companion is an extremely pretentious person whom you should not have met. You soon learned from the maids that he was talking about Fulgrim.

There was a strange tension in the air. Unnatural. It tastes disgusting. Your slaves told you that Perturabo's guest behaves absolutely terribly, throwing away his own and Iron warriors as well as toys. As for the Emperor's Children, they no longer looked like perfect warriors. You tried to find out the details, but the serfs fell silent.

You think that was the last time you saw them. Later they disappeared and a servitor began to serve you. All you could do about this was cry into your pillow. You really didn’t want to be alone and you hoped that you could protect these girls. You disered to befriend with them. Now your only company is a slave of flesh and metal. And your food has acquired a reddish tint and a strange iron taste. But you had to give it credit, you felt much healthier after every meal.

This went on for some time and you got used to the new daily routine... until one day the primarch came into your room. Only it wasn't Perturabo.

“I knew that he was hiding something valuable from me, but I could not even think about it,” Fulgrim spoke with a grin.

You felt the stench. A sickeningly cloying smell, as if the primarch had gone too far with perfume. And not only with them. His entire face was covered in powder, and his whole appearance screamed defiantly. He stood and looked at you like you were a bug, barely holding back his laughter.

“So many worlds, so many solar systems. Billions, trillions of lives. But still he met you.” - an evil grimace painted the primarch’s face, and a long tongue crawled across his lips. You cringed. He reminded you more of a snake than a demigod. - “But you are different. I wonder what he does to you.”

"Nothing. We're just talking. I-I,” you started to stutter, unable to handle the pressure. And how could you explain to Fulgrim your relationship with Perturabo if you yourself did not fully understand it. You couldn't say that you were his friend? It is unthinkable for a demigod to be friends with a mere mortal girl. He had his own reason for keeping you with him and you would never dare ask him about it.

“You, you.” - The primarch knelt down and took your chin. It was as if he was feeding on your fear, enjoying your trembling and appearance. - “Don’t whine. Give me your attention, which my brother lacks so much, imperfect replica.”

“Get out.”

Fulgrim didn't even have time to turn around or stand up before the Iron Lord picked him up by the scruff of the neck like a kitten and threw him into the corridor. You covered your mouth with your hands, holding back a scream. Throwing an unreadable look at you, Perturabo walked out into the corridor, closing the door behind him. You saw no more of the primarch of the Emperor's Children. But you heard his groans and cries of pain while Perturabo beated him.

You've never been so terrified. It seemed to you as if all the Iron Blood was rusting from the surge of emotions. Once again you heard the sounds of beating, but this time you were not the cause of the quarrel between the brothers. A couple of times the ship entered into battle, but you couldn’t even see them because your window was tightly sealed and you were hiding under the blanket. But you heard, you felt. It was driving you crazy.

And yet, after some time, everything calmed down. It was as if everyone had died. Until the primarch came to your chambers. He sat down loudly on the bed and your heart bled with pity. He looked so tired, as if every second he was carrying a huge stone on his shoulders. The already gray eyes dimmed.

“He betrayed me” - you didn’t even have to ask who exactly. Your hands began to tremble on their own as soon as you remembered that carnivorous look. - “My brother wanted me dead. He didn't receive it. Lost honor. But he became perfect.”

The man whispered the last word with contempt and looked at you. His face took on a strange expression and you thought he was going to cry.

“But you won’t leave me?”

"No, of course not". - You couldn’t hold back your tears. You began to sob even more when the primarch's hand began to stroke your hair. He did it so carefully and easily, trying not to break you. Surrounded by nothing but iron, you were now nothing but flesh and blood. Alive.

Everything was supposed to return to its place, and the meeting with Fulgrim was to be forgotten like a bad dream. You started visiting his workshop again, talking about everything in the world. You didn’t bring up the topic of your slaves, strange food, and especially not about his brother. You just couldn't make him sad. Or angry.

Moreover, every day the primarch became gloomier and depressed. You heard how he took out his anger on everything he could get his hands on. The screams of the serfs. And once he scolded the Iron Warrior right in front of you. You felt in your gut how the Space Marine felt shame while Perturabo humiliated him in front of a mortal girl.

You didn't know how to explain it, but your relationship had also changed. Perturabo has let you into his life again. But it was as if he had built a wall. Even if you now had lunch with him. And he carefully made sure that you ate all your rations. He let you take a nap in his chair. Taught you how to make simple things. He started asking you to do other duties. And you were only happy to please him.

You didn’t notice how only you two were left.

The primarch was very tired. He didn't tell you much about his research. But all you cared about was that he finally rested. So now you served him fruit and wine while he took a bath. The murmur of warm water and puffs of steam completely engulfed the chambers, creating the illusion of safety. There was no war, no suffering and no smell of burning iron. Just completely calm.

While the primarch was soaking in the bath, leaning his elbows on the bars, you sat next to him on the pillows. He remained silent, and you continued to chirp about the recent book he gave you to read. You were delighted with the Olympian poetry, but this did not surprise Perturabo at all.

"Help me". - the primarch croaked. You, relaxed, looked at him. Without the implants on his head, he looked less intimidating. In addition, he recently decided to grow a beard, as was customary at Olympia.

Seeing him pointing at the oils made you smile. Iron Within, Iron Without? You were ready to argue with this statement as you soaped the man’s shoulders, feeling him relax under your touch. No, he is not alien to softness, but he is trying to hide it behind seven locks. You understood that you loved him as a friend. Like a brother.

Suddenly you felt the man tense. You looked at him perplexed until you heard his whisper.

“Come down.”

You involuntarily licked your lips. You carefully lowered your feet into the water. You didn’t want to get your dress wet, but you didn’t want to be left without it even more. Even if many serfs could go without clothes and there was a demigod in front of you, you could not cope with shyness.

The man was reclining and you could almost reach his chin. But only almost. You felt his eyes touch you and pursed your lips. Trying not to pay attention to the strange tension, began to soap his shoulders and torso. Gradually, the awkwardness passed and you almost decided to continue the conversation, but made a mistake.

You looked straight into his eyes.

Can steel burn? The primarch's gray eyes turned into two lights. The man clenched his jaw, but he didn't look angry. With your palms you felt his body tense and he leaned towards you. A shadow fell on your face, absorbing your entire insides. A little more and you will fall into the abyss.

Breath hitched and a squeak escaped your lips. The man continued to take your space. His hand landed on your back. It almost hurt. You tried to say his name, but only one syllable came out.

“Bo.”

Suddenly everything stopped. Few would have believed you, but you clearly saw the shock on the primarch’s face. He was dumbfounded, his lips trembling. You could almost hear his heartbeat.

"Leave me." - Perturabo was still holding your back, loosening his grip. Seeing that you were still standing, he frowned and turned away from you like a child. “NOW!”

Stunned, you had no choice but to leave the primarch alone with himself. Alone with thoughts.

***

He couldn't get this image out of his head. Rosy cheeks, gentle eyes, small hands on his body. That tousled hair and those clothes falling awkwardly off your shoulders. He saw you, but he also saw her. He heard you sigh, but he heard her say his name. You both merged into one.

Perturabo didn't know how to describe his feelings at that moment, but he wanted to break you. Strangle. No. Squeeze in a hug. Save her image or, on the contrary, destroy her so that only you remain. You're almost the same. Almost. You are imperfect.

“She’s not your sister, you know that, right?”

“So pretty.”

“Imperfect.”

Yes, you were imperfect. You were supposed to be a copy, a replacement. You had her eyes, facial expressions, body, voice. You even loved the same things. But it was still different in some ways. Be it the way you wore your dresses and carried yourself at ease. How you remained silent when he said things she didn't like.

You won't contradict him. You support. You respect. You obey. You love him.

He hated you for it.

He adored you for it.

Perturabo still could not throw out the words of his traitor brother, continuing to replay them in his head. He knew this. He couldn't explain the desire he felt. He loved her. And he loved you too. But differently. Quite different.

The primarch felt not only his hearts, but also his body being overcome by a previously unfamiliar desire. He had no choice but to surrender to it and throw out the accumulated tension. Take relief.

He was grateful that you left. You should not see him in such a state, in such an action. The primarch took a deep breath, remembering your voice like a siren's song. How deeply you have sunk your roots into his soul.

Yes, you were more than a replica.

#primarch x reader #perturabo x reader #primarch x oc #tw: incest #warhammer 40k

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asexualenjolras · 5 months

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I can't stop thinking about the friendship between Quinni and Cash in Heartbreak High. I really hope we get more scenes between them in future seasons.

I can't stop thinking about Cash's face when Quinni is having her meltdown because he knows he can relate on some level. He's listening to her every word, and he is feeling so deeply for her.

His face when she says she doesn't want to be a burden made me sob. He looks so sad.

Quinni's words must have held some resonance with Cash, and I can't stop thinking about it.

Because he doesn't want to be a burden either, and he is trying so hard in his relationship with Darren and it still isn't enough.

Quinni says: "And then I find this thing, this one thing that I can control, that I can share with you all and participate in, one thing that I'm useful for, and I'm told I'm doing that wrong too. It's just not fair."

Cash knows how that feels. He's doing absolutely everything in his relationship with Darren, but he still feels like it's not enough. He's really letting her words sink in.

Quinni needs someone that can understand what she's feeling, and Cash can (in a different way).

I love that we saw Cash pick up on how upset Quinni was at the zoo. She needs someone that notices her, and Cash did.

Anyway, I love the scenes with Quinni and Cash together. And I hope we get more of their friendship in future. Because I think they understand each other on a very personal level. But maybe that's just my autistic, asexual self hoping they can find some solace in each other.

I resonate with Cash just as much as I resonate with Quinni, and I'm not saying that Cash is also possibly autistic but it's possible with his stimming, his mental health history, his deep empathy for living things and his struggles communicating how he feels. I'm running with this headcanon.

#heartbreak high #cash piggott #quinni gallagher jones #asexual #autism #autistic quinni gallagher jones #asexual cash piggott #douglas piggott #chloe hayden #autism representation #asexual representation #canon autistic character #canon asexual character

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 4 months

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The Avalanches - Frontier Psychiatrist 2000

"Frontier Psychiatrist" is a song by Australian electronic music group the Avalanches, that was released on 21 August 2000 as the second single from the group's debut album Since I Left You. It is built around several elements sampled from other music; Avalanches members Robbie Chater and Darren Seltman sampled music from several vinyl records in the production and creation of Since I Left You. The prominent orchestral sample heard throughout the track is sourced from a recording by the Enoch Light Singers of the 1968 composition "My Way of Life". The track also contains several vocal samples of Canadian comedy duo Wayne and Shuster, the most prominent of these samples taken from the duo's comedy routine "Frontier Psychiatrist", as well as the John Waters movie Polyester.

Only the aforementioned samples are credited in the liner notes of Since I Left You; various other uncredited samples are used in the track, with sources ranging from Harvey Mandel's 1968 cover of the spiritual "Wade in the Water", and comedy routines by Flip Wilson, sketches from Sesame Street, and Maurice Jarre's main theme from Lawrence of Arabia. The closing mariachi band plays "El Negro Zumbón", first performed by Flo Sandon's, who doubles Silvana Mangano in the 1951 movie Anna.

Upon release, it peaked at number 18 on the UK Singles Chart and number 49 in the group's native Australia, becoming their first single to enjoy commercial success. "Frontier Psychiatrist" was well received by music critics, who praised the Avalanches' use of samples.

The "Frontier Psychiatrist" music video, directed by Tom Kuntz and Mike Maguire, was the runner-up in the "Best Music Video" category at the 2002 Rushes Soho Shorts Film Festival. Pitchfork Media placed the video at number 19 on their list of the "Top 50 Music Videos of the 2000s". An alternative video was made, featuring actors acting out the 'dialogue' of the track in various scenes, including a psychiatrist's office and "Dexter's" bedroom. In addition, Rorschach ink-blots are animated to reflect various samples in the track.

"Frontier Psychiatrist" received a total of 73,2% yes votes!

youtube

#finished #high votes #high yes #high reblog #00s #the avalanches #english #o2 #popular

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pinguwrites · 11 months

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Kinktober 2023 | Day Twenty — Darren/Pig + vanilla, riding

Pairing -> sub!pig x dom!reader

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Warnings: mild degradation, mention of masturbation, pig's sorta innocent, reader takes runt's place, reader's lowkey a little mean, very very mild dub-con (just in case 'cause they're bold with touching and not asking, but they both are into it), sorry for the shitty accent I tried, if it was really bad let me know and I'll try to make it better

Disclaimer: Disco Pigs characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Pig looked at you miserably, feeling a sense of shame wash over him like a cold bucket of water. He hadn’t expected you to hear him, hear his monologue of how he wanted to have sex with you. He should have kept it all in his head, or made sure you weren’t in your room. How was he supposed to know you were on your bed, listening through the hole in the wall?

“Well?” you snapped. “Whaddya have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry!” Pig cried, lower lip wobbling. “M’sorry, Runt! Jus’ wanna express myself.”

What if you decided you didn’t want to be friends anymore? What if you left him? Found him disgusting and dirty? What would he do if you were gone? You were his everything. He would do anything for you. How was he supposed to convince you to stay?

“You couldn’t jus’ tell me?” you said, sitting down on the bed beside him. When he looked away you grabbed his hair and forced him to face you. “You had to be all secret-like. How many times you’ve done this before? Tell me.”

“Few times,” he admitted, trying not to stare at your lips. “Can’t stop thinking about it—me and you, Pig an’ Runt, moaning an’ touch, with my hand ‘round my cock—”

“Touching yourself, Pig?” you asked, a little surprised, but delighted nonetheless.

If possible, Pig looked even more miserable. “Yes, ma’am.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Pig only called you “ma’am” when he thought you were mad at him, which, to be fair, you were making it seem like you were. It was just so fun teasing him, the poor little thing. You couldn’t resist.

“Show me,” you demanded, looking down at the area between his legs. “I wanna see your cock.”

With no questions, he immediately unzipped his pants and pulled it out. It was thick and white, soft at the moment, but you could see it growing hard in his hands. You touched it, without asking for permission—he would’ve let you, anyways—and tugged on it, making him whimper.

“Ah, be nice, won’t ya’? Please, Runt.”

“Am being nice. Wanna see me, too?”

Pig’s eyes widened with excitement. “Yes, yes.” His hands went to your skirt and he pulled it up, shoving your panties down so quickly and smoothly you were sure he’d thought about doing this before.

He bent over and took a whiff, then pressed his finger through your folds. “Smell good,” he commented. “Feel good, too. Little hole.” He wiggled his finger right above your entrance, but you pushed him away, making him frown. “Still mad? No, don’t be mad. Said sorry, yeah? Said sorry and you feel okay now. Right?”

He tried to push back inside but you pushed him away again, and this time, to make clear he got the message, tugged on his cock again. “Just wanna put my finger inside Runt’s hole! You up an’ teasin’ me . . .”

He pulled away completely, accepting your decision. He didn’t dare go against you a third time, not when he was so vulnerable in front of you, so embarrassed, with tears wetting his eyes.

“Crying now?” you laughed, not bothering to keep it in this time.

“Too much,” he whined. His cock was now fully hard, with some liquid leaking out the top.

You shoved him down on the bed, making it slap against his stomach. He waited to see what you were going to do, almost worried, but then you sank his tip into your pussy, and he moaned, lips spread wide in happiness.

“Yes! S’nice. Warm,” he choked. “Need’a see Runt’s tits.”

He groped your chest, feeling for your tits. You didn’t stop him. You were enjoying his touch, and was far too focused on easing the pain you felt as you sunk yourself deeper onto his cock.

Eventually, the stinging feeling subsided, and you started moving, slowly and sensually, with your hands on his body, eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

“Should’a done this sooner, Pig,” you said. “Could’a felt ya’ inside me, all big an’ hard.”

He nodded, dazed.

You rode him, without a care in the world that his mom could walk into his room at any moment, without caring that the bedroom window was cracked open with the lamp inside turned on. All there was was him and you—Pig an’ Runt, the way it was meant to be.

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420

@madeinuk

@gentyleman

@meetmeatyourworst

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

#darren pig x reader #darren pig x you #darren pig x y/n #disco pigs #darren pig #cillian murphy #fanfiction #pinguwrites #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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burn your life down: the director's cut, or rather, fun facts about this story now that it's over

luca's last name in my fic is davies, and formally davies-bernardi. bernardi in italian means 'strong as a bear' which, was truly a perfect coincidence that i originally thought it sounded good hyphenated with davies. it felt like the perfect little nugget to drop in here.

this one kind of took on a life of its own. I thought maybe a headcanon or a few chapters, then 46.5k words later... before writing a fic, i always like to map out where i'm going, because it helps me zero in on what story i want to tell. as someone (and who hasn't, truly) who has plenty of abandoned fics, i like to get clear on what story it is i want to tell before beginning to write so that i know it's a fic worth writing for me. no, i don't think finishing a fic should be a marker of success, but where i'm at right now, it feels like the best way for me to see if i have a story to tell or not.

speaking of stories to tell, the reason i wanted to have our main character divorced was because i wanted to try something different. i wondered how i could differentiate this mc (while keeping the reader neutral so you could picture yourselves in it if you wanted to) from others that i have written / will write in the future. the divorce and growing apart is actually kind of inspired by my previous upstairs neighbor who i met a year after his divorce. i wanted to imagine what the inner world of someone who had experienced a divorce that wasn't messy, but its relationship had just run its course and i the end, left two people who weren't sure who they were and how to talk to each other anymore would be like.

music and playlisting really helps me envision and feel into the world that I’m building. I ask myself questions like: what does their love sound like? what does this relationship shound like? how do i want the world i'm building feel, and how do i convey that in sound? and then of course, what songs could underscore certain moments of this chapter? listening to the playlist i create as i go really helps me get into character aka enter the world of the story when i'm sitting down the write.

so many of my fics and interactions are based on my own real life experiences, which is why they often feel so human and so real. i weave in little details like conversations i've had, a person i reminded of. i often write dialogue after i've imagined the scene in my head down to the cadence of how characters speak to one another to make sure it feels grounded.

speaking of, we've got to talk about the food in this fic, something that you all complimented me on at the very beginning! it was important for me to have the food feel deeply personal to reader, and be an expression of her identity through the years. yes, i wrote it with an mc with asian heritage in mind. however, i wanted to make space, again, for you to picture yourself in this fic, which is why mc's ex and family were written with japanese heritage.

a lot of the dishes were inspired by dishes i've had that were similar to what i think her culinary pov would be, and a lot of it is the way that i cook as well. i am not a chef by any means, but i am AM a home cook who occasionally does pop ups who very recently discovered my own culinary pov. food for me is something that not only helps me express myself, but has helped me connect to parts of my own identity. in so many ways, as someone who describes themselves as a cultural melting pot, food helps me feel closer to myself; it helps me find and define, and express who i am.

the culture of food and the role it plays in allowing us to connect was really important for me to weave into this story as well.

for the mikkelson twins, i pictured timothee and pauline chalamet as jesper and mathilde.

for the kimuras: rina sawayama would play astrid, darren barnet would play joe, and gia kim would play lina.

let's talk about luca's character development: so many things were so will poulter-coded/borrowed for will poulter, which felt right to do considering he wove his own life into the luca's tattoos. examples? the nike book, the kendrick lamar on the playlist, how much internal work the man has done on himself.

in the end, I initially had mc have a way bigger freak out than she did -- that it would be her final: holy shit am i ready to be loved moment, but as i wrote it, it ended up being luca who brought up the main conflict. it just ended up going in a different direction and didn't feel right to go with my original plan, because she felt so in their relationship already that i pivoted.

i watched a lot of travel and lifestyle copenhagen vlogs because i'm obsessed with youtube.

after season 2 of the bear, i wanted to explore what positive relationships with mothers could look like in these characters. that's why mothers (and single mothers) are the superheroes of this fic.

i knew i wanted this fic to be about these things: second love, loss, trusting the beginning that comes after the end, inspiration, following your heart, and mothers. these are the guiding principles that i used when writing, knowing that these were the pillars i wanted this story to be about.

looking forward: i am working on two oneshots that will live in this world, one about marcus visiting again -- an eat, pray, love for him of sorts -- that's about mothers and loss and life. the other one is a fun, sexy little smutshot that will hardlaunch their (she and luca's) restaurant so keep an eye out for those. truthfully, i've only just started workshopping the marcus one and am prioritizing finishing my carmy fic first.

opening myself up for q&a! feel free to ask any questions about this fic or my writing process in the comments.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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