#( dash | betsy. ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harley-sunday · 1 year

Text

Feels Like Home [03]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 4.6k

AN: Daniel in this chapter is just... Oof. I hope you like it, if you could take some time to leave a comment that would mean so much :) ♥

Masterlist

“Alright, Boss,” Daniel jokes with a wide grin, “tell me what to do.” It’s his first official day as her farmhand and even though she told him yesterday what she expects from him he might have been too busy looking at her to really hear anything she said.

“Well,” she draws out, looking from him to the alpacas and back, “it’s Sunday, so it’s time for their weekly bath, maybe you could-”

“I’m sorry, what?” Daniel eyes the girls suspiciously, not sure how he feels about bathing three killing machines who could take him out in a second. Try explaining that to Blake, he thinks to himself with a wry smile.

“Well yeah, I mean, they’re outside all week long, so I usually take them down to the river on Sundays and give them a nice wash.” She nods towards her truck, “There’s a bottle of shampoo and a brush in my truck.”

Ok. He’s got this. This is nothing compared to driving a race car at three hundred k’s per hour, right? It’s just three alpacas, and they’ve probably been bathed lots of times before, and if she can do it he surely can. Right? Daniel swallows hard, mentally preparing himself for the task at hand by taking a deep breath, trying not to show fear because he’s convinced the girls will pick up on that and- Ok. One at a time. He'll start with Blanche, she's definitely the least threatening, then Babs, and Betsy last.

“I usually take all three of them at the same time,” she says then. “They get a little antsy when they’re separated.”

Oh. Ok. He risks another glance at the girls who are huddled together in the corner of the paddock, eating some grass and probably having a better time than he is right now. But. One alpaca or three alpacas, same difference, right? So why does his voice come out all high and squeaky when he tells her, “Yeah, nah, no worries.”

Next to him he can hear her let out a laugh and he’s about to tell her that this might not be the best idea but then her hand is on his arm and she looks up at him with a mischievous smile, “I was just messing with you, Daniel.”

“Oh, thank God,” he breathes before he composes himself. Or tries to, anyway, “I mean, I was going to do it but-”

“Yeah, nah, I could totally see that,” she jokes, her hand squeezing his arm as she winks at him. “Why don’t you fill up their feeder inside and I’ll get started on cleaning out the shed?”

“That I can do,” Daniel agrees easily enough. He takes the bucket of grains out of her truck and starts making his way over to the shed. As soon as he opens the gate he can see the alpacas hurrying over to him and so he makes a quick dash to the shed to avoid being trampled to death by a herd of angry alpacas. Or at least, three very hungry ones. Still they catch up with him and he lets out an embarrassing yelp when Blanche head buts him in the back, “Jeepers, Blanche!”

“She likes you,” she says from where she’s leaning on her pitch fork.

“I like you too,” Daniel tells the white alpaca in a soft voice, trying not to spook her, “but I’m gonna need you to keep your distance, ma’am.”

***

When you hit the call button you take a deep breath, trying to settle the nerves in your stomach that have formed a nice little knot there ever since Granddad suggested asking Daniel to help you out and gave you his number, and bite your lip while you wait for the call to go through.

He answers with a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Hi Daniel, it’s-”

“Well, hello neighbour,” he says then and you swear you can feel his megawatt smile beaming at you through the phone. “Everything alright? Is this you calling me to tell me what an excellent job I did today?”

“Uhm, no-” You can’t help but laugh, “But sure. Thank you for today, Daniel. You did an excellent job.”

“Thank you, that sounded very genuine and not at all prompted,” he laughs.

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I uh-” you clear your throat, trying to get rid of your pinched voice, “I wanted to ask if you maybe could do me a favour tomorrow?”

“Hmm,” he hums in reply and you think you can hear him sit down somewhere, “that depends.”

“On?”

“On what the favour is. I’ve got no problem feeding the girls but if you’re going to tell me that because it’s Monday it’s time for Oscar’s his weekly bath I might-”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, “No.” A little cheeky then, “That’s not until next Friday anyway.” He chuckles and you can feel your nerves settle down a little, “I do have to take Granddad into town tomorrow though. The doctor wants to see him for a follow-up and so I was wondering if you maybe could watch Ellie for an hour or two? Mrs Mackenzie was supposed to watch her but she’s not feeling too well, so- Normally I would take Ellie with me but it’s right around her nap time and she gets a little grumpy when she doesn’t get enough sleep so I’d rather-”

“You want me to hang out with Miss Ellie?”

“Well, she’d be asleep for most of it,” you try to reassure him because he sounds a little- hesitant, maybe. “Really it’s just babysitting her for two hours tops but if you don’t-”

“I’d love to,” he interrupts you quickly. “What time do you need me to come over?”

“We have to leave at one-”

“I’ll be there.”

You can’t help the smile that grows ever wider, “Thank you so much, Dan. I really appre-”

“Stop it,” he counters, no doubt with a grin. “I’m happy to help out.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep from thanking him again and so instead you simply say, “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yep. Catch you later, neighbour.”

***

“Thanks for another great workout, Mikey, it’s been swell,” Daniel says once they’re done with their Monday morning session. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Michael eyes him suspiciously, “You’re awfully chipper today-”

“What?” Daniel chuckles and shrugs, “Am I not allowed to enjoy working out?”

“You are,” Michael draws out, “it’s just that usually you don’t.”

“It was a good workout, mate,” Daniel says as he claps Michael’s back. Of course he knows exactly what brought on his good mood, because he’s been looking forward to babysitting Ellie all day, but he doesn’t necessarily need Michael to know that.

“Sure,”

“What?” Daniel says again. “Don’t doubt yourself, Mikey. Your workouts are great!”

“I’m not sure what’s going on here,” Michael says, circling his finger in front of Daniel’s chest, “but keep up with the flattery, mate. It’s better than your usual complaining.”

“Awesome.” Daniel risks a quick glance at his watch then and sees it’s already a quarter past twelve and he still needs to shower and- “It’s been swell, mate. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yep,” Michael agrees bluntly. He narrows his eyes at Daniel then, “Do I need Blake to schedule a drug test or something?” He lowers his voice, “Are you involved in illegal activities, Dan? I mean, I’m not against the use of CBD oil but I don’t think smoking weed is-”

“Out!” Daniel pushes his friend towards the door with a shake of his head even though he can’t help the smile that tugs on the corners of his mouth, “Don’t be a nosy Nellie, mate. It doesn’t suit you.”

Michael gives him the finger but then heads to his car and so Daniel turns on his heels and heads for the shower, and if he’s already picked out the outfit he’s going to wear, so what? It’s efficient.

He’s out of the house twenty minutes later and when he pulls up in front of Oscar’s house there’s still ten minutes to spare. Daniel knocks and then lets himself in like he always does, finding his neighbour in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of tea, “Hiya Oscar.”

“Hi Danny,” Oscar replies, his face lighting up with a smile.

“How you doing, mate?”

“Not too bad,” Oscar agrees easily enough. As always he’s a man of little words and doesn’t really elaborate. Instead he nods to the ceiling, “She’s just putting Ellie to bed, shouldn’t take long.”

“Oh, that’s ok,” Daniel says as he sits down in one of the kitchen chairs after helping himself to a cup of coffee.

“Listen, Dan,” Oscar starts and for some reason Daniel knows whatever comes next is important, “they’ve been through a lot, both of them. It wasn’t easy when Ellie’s dad-” Oscar shakes his head, “That’s not really my story to tell but I need you to understand that she doesn’t trust people easily, so for her to ask you to watch Ellie, the one person who means more to her than anyone, well-” he locks eyes with Daniel, “It’s a big ask from her and a big responsibility for you. Don’t muck about, son. Ok? Not just now, with babysitting Ellie, but with her as well. I might not be as quick as I was before but I won’t hesitate to hunt you down if you ever hurt her.”

“Understood,” Daniel says with a nod because he does. He could tell she was hesitant to accept his help when he first offered it and even more so when she called him yesterday and so he wants to do anything but hurt the trust she’s put in him.

“Good,” Oscar says, taking another sip of his tea.

When he hears her coming down the stairs he leans in a little closer to Oscar and tells him, “I’m not gonna let her down, promise.”

“That’s a big promise to make, Danny,” Oscar counters with his eyebrows raised.

“I know,” Daniel gives him a big smile, “but I intend to keep it.”

It’s then she walks into the kitchen, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Daniel beams back at her, a little taken aback by how different she looks out of her normal work clothes because even though she’s wearing jeans and a simple black top she looks absolutely gorgeous. He clears his throat and tries not to stare when he asks, “Ellie’s asleep?”

“Yep,” she nods. “Out like a light. I doubt she’ll wake up before we get back but just in case there’s a bottle of milk in the fridge that you just need to heat up and if she wants she can have a banana.”

“Gotcha.”

“You have my number so call me if there’s anything, ok?” She waits until he nods before she casually adds, “She likes you so I don’t think she’ll mind you being there but if she does throw a little tantrum-”

“I’ll call,” Daniel adds, trying to reassure her that he’s got this while still basking in the fact that Ellie likes him.

She turns towards Oscar then, “Ready to go?”

Daniel helps Oscar to her car and promises once again to call if there’s anything before he heads back inside and settles on the couch with his phone, making good use of his time by catching up on some emails.

Ellie wakes up somewhere around two-thirty and Daniel’s on his feet at her first cry, a little nervous when he walks up the stairs to where Oscar told him her room is. The little girl is sitting in her cot, looking at him with big eyes and so he lowers his voice, trying to let her know it’s ok when he says, “Hi Miss Ellie. How you going?”

Ellie looks up at him, her little eyebrows knitted together as she studies him for a moment, but then she must recognise him because she holds out her hands to him, “Danny.”

“That’s right,” Daniel says as he picks her up and kisses her cheek. “How you going, sleepyhead?”

She leans back a little in his arms, looking over his shoulder, “Momma?”

“Momma’s taking Granddad to see the doctor, sweetheart,” Daniel explains as he gently wipes her hair out of her face. “She’ll be back soon.”

Ellie seems to think about it for a second but then seems content with his answer and lets her head rest against his shoulder, “Milk?”

Daniel laughs, “Yep. Let’s go get you some milk, huh?” He pokes her side then, “And maybe a banana?”

Ellie’s head shoots up, her eyes wide, whispering a quiet, “‘Nana?”

“Banana,” Daniel confirms quietly as he turns around. He makes his way down the stairs carefully before he walks to the kitchen and sits her down in her high chair.

Ellie’s quietly singing to herself as he waits for the microwave to heat up her bottle and at first he can’t make out what she’s going on about but then the microwave beeps and it’s quiet in the kitchen again and he hears her loud and clear, “Danny, banana. Danny, banana. Danny, banana.”

Daniel presses a kiss to the top of her head as he puts her bottle down in front of her, “You’re the coolest kid ever, Miss Ellie." When she smiles up at him he grins back at her, "Don’t tell my niece and nephew I said that, ok? Our little secret.”

***

It’s close to three when you pull up to the house and part of you wants to rush inside, to check up on Ellie, and Daniel, but you know you can’t just leave Granddad behind. Instead you turn to him, “I’ll go ask Daniel to come help, ok?”

Your granddad grunts something in reply and you can’t help but smile because you know it’s nothing personal, know it’s just because he hates not being able to do something as simple as getting out of a car on his own and if anything you admire the way he still cares about his independence.

You hear him continue his rant as you step out of the car but don't really pay it any mind, music coming from the house drawing your attention instead. When you walk past Homer, who's curled up on the old couch on the front porch, he looks at you as if to say he doesn't know what's going on either. You pat his head and tell him, "Good boy," before you let yourself in and head for the kitchen.

The loud music means they haven't heard you come in and so you allow yourself a moment to take it all in - Daniel with the sleeves of his t-shirt pushed up, excitedly showing off his tattoos to Ellie, pointing at them and explaining to her what they are. Ellie seems absolutely enthralled by all the pictures etched into his skin, her little fingers now tracing the lines of a cupid on his arm. You feel something settle inside of your chest as you watch your daughter and Daniel together, both of them so at ease, and it's something you haven’t felt in a long time. Before you have time to explore it some more your daughter spots you and so you push yourself off from where you were leaning against the doorframe and walk over to where Ellie’s sitting in her high chair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Hi bub. You having fun?"

Daniel nods, "She's been like this ever since she woke up half an hour ago," just as Ellie points at Daniel’s tattoo, “Cupid!”

“Yeah, that’s a cupid,” you agree with a smile, trying your hardest not to stare at Daniel's tan arms but failing miserably and so you clear your throat to distract yourself.

If Daniel notices anything he's kind enough not to mention it and instead puts his sweater back on. Once that's over his head he looks at you with a grin, "What you do to the old man? Leave him behind at the nursing home?"

You laugh and shake your head, "He's in the car. Would you mind helping him out?"

"On it," Daniel says with a click of his tongue, pointing a pair of finger guns at the two of you before he pulls a face and turns around.

Both you and Ellie watch in silence as he walks out of the kitchen, Ellie letting out a quiet, "Danny," when he turns the corner and you letting out a heavy sigh at the same time. When Ellie looks up at you, you smile back at her, drawing out a "Yeah."

Ellie, bless her, claps her hands in response and then blows a raspberry at you.

You comb your fingers through her hair absentmindedly, "Same, bub-" Another sigh then, "Same."

Daniel and Granddad make it inside not much later, but it’s only Daniel who returns to the kitchen, running a hand through his hair as he says, “He asked me to put him in the living room.”

“He’s a little grumpy,” you whisper with a wink. “Hasn’t had his afternoon nap yet so-” you see-saw your hand and let the rest of that sentence hang in the air unspoken.

“Gotcha,” Daniel says with a grin, looking a bit unsure of himself. He shakes his head then and points at the window, “I don’t know about you two but maybe we could go for a walk? It’s nice enough outside and I don’t mind stretching my legs for a bit.”

You look down at Ellie, “You wanna go for a walk, bub?”

Ellie’s eyes light up and she whispers a happy, “Yeah,” before she looks at Daniel, “Come with?”

“Yep,” Daniel nods. “I’m definitely coming with, my friend.”

“I’ll just go get her changed real quick,” you tell Daniel as you pick Ellie up from her seat. “Shouldn’t take long.”

“I’ll wait outside for you,” Daniel offers with a grin. “Wouldn’t want to disturb the old man during his nap.”

When you come down a little later, Ellie in a pair of pale green dungarees and a fleece made from Alpaca wool, you find Daniel sitting next to Homer on the porch swing, albeit with some distance between them. You can’t help but tease, “Cautious of the dog too, Ricciardo?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a nod, rubbing his hands on the fabric of his jeans. “Although I trust him more than I do the alpacas.”

You click your tongue, “Better not let the girls hear that.” Ellie starts wriggling in your arms and so you put her down, watching as she wobbles over to the apple orchard, where Granddad put up a swing for you in one of the trees when you were Ellie’s age. You look at Daniel and shrug, “Guess we’re going that way.”

Ellie’s surprisingly quick on her little legs and already waiting for you at the swing by the time you catch up with her. Daniel doesn’t hesitate and picks her up so he can put her into the seat, gently pushing her once she’s in, drawing excited giggles from her, his own smile growing wider with every push.

You and Daniel talk about the farm mostly, how it was back when you were a kid and how much has changed since your grandmother passed away a few years ago. When he asks if you could ever see yourself moving here full time, you hesitate, “I’m not sure.” You shrug then, “I think I could manage what little livestock we have now but I’m not sure if I could be the best mum to Ellie if I have the farm to worry about.”

“Hmm,” he agrees quietly, encouraging you to go on.

“It’s a lot of work,” you explain. “I mean, if it wasn't just me maybe it’d be different but-”

“Can I-” Daniel stops himself but when you nod, because you know what he’s going to ask, he clears his throat and continues, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where’s Ellie’s dad?”

“Dunno.” You smile to let him know it’s ok, “We were together for six or seven months before I found out he was married, so I broke it off and told him I never wanted to see him again. Two months later I found out I was pregnant.”

“Does he-”

“He knows about Ellie, but he already has a wife and kids so-” You look at Ellie, “He signed away his rights when she was born and asked not to bother him anymore.”

“Wow,” Daniel shakes his head. “What an a-” He looks at Ellie and corrects himself just in time, “What a despicable human being.”

You shrug, “It’s fine. For me it’s better this way but-” you swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump that has started to form in your throat, “I worry about the day Ellie’s going to ask about him, you know? Can you imagine? ‘Oh yeah, funny you should ask, kid, but your dad doesn’t want anything to do with you.’” You scoff, “I hate that he’s put me in that position but on the other hand, if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have her so-”

“If it’s any consolation,” Daniel says with a hesitant smile, “she’s a carbon copy of you, both the way she looks and her personality. People will always know she’s your kid.”

“That’s very kind, thank you,” you tell him with a warm smile.

Ellie decides then she’s had enough of the swing and holds up her arms, “Out.”

You can’t help but laugh and nod at your daughter, “You heard her, Daniel. She wants out.”

Daniel laughs and picks up Ellie, lifting her onto his shoulders before he turns to you, “Why don’t you show me your favourite place on the farm?”

“My favourite place,” you echo slowly, trying to choose between the little creek over in the Burned Oak paddock or- Looking at your daughter then, who is giggling with glee from being so high up, the choice is easy, “Ok. Let’s go.” You lead Daniel through the orchard to a field that at first glance doesn’t look like anything special but you know in a few months time will look completely different.

When you reach the gate you look at him from over your shoulder, “This is it.”

“Ok,” he draws out, probably not sure if you’re joking or not.

“You’ll have to come back in December,” you tell him, without thinking much of it, without fully realising you actually want him to come back, want to have him in your life for more than just the two weeks you’re promised now, “the entire place will be covered in poppies. It’s beautiful.” You poke Ellie’s side then, “It’s why her second name is Poppy.”

“Because you love the flowers so much?” Daniel guesses.

“That and because she was born on December third, when they are in full bloom.” You take your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and pull up your picture gallery, scrolling back to a picture of Ellie’s second birthday, where you took a few pictures of her surrounded by thousands of red poppies. You angle your phone to Daniel, “See?”

“Oh wow.”

“Right?” You smile at Ellie, “A very pretty girl in the middle of some very pretty flowers.”

Ellie yawns in response and when you look at the time on your phone you’re surprised to see it’s already close to five. You look at Daniel, “We should probably head back. Don’t want the wrath of Granddad unleashed on us because of dinner being late.”

Daniel laughs, “Yeah, nah, we could do without.”

***

It’s been less than a week since Daniel offered to help out on the farm, but already you’ve settled into an easy rhythm. You still do your chores around the house in the morning, make lunch, put Ellie down for her nap, and spend some time outside until your granddad calls, have a coffee break, head back outside again together with Ellie for an hour or so until it’s five o’clock and it’s time to make dinner. Or, well, warm up dinner. The meals Daniel brought you only require a few minutes in the microwave and save you so much time.

Daniel usually shows up around five-thirty, entertaining Ellie long enough for you and Granddad to finish your dinner in relative peace before you take Ellie upstairs to get her ready for the night while Daniel and your Granddad drink a cuppa and gossip about the neighbours and whatever footie game was on that day. By now Granddad is a lot more independent around the house, but getting him ready both in the mornings and at night is still something you need to help him with. He seems a bit happier though and in the end that’s all that matters.

Once Ellie is asleep, you and Daniel head outside, taking your Granddad’s ute out to Eagle’s nest to tend to the alpacas. More often than not, Homer jumps into the back of the truck once you set off, having taken a special liking to the alpacas ever since they arrived on the farm a few years ago.

It’s where you find yourself today, an unusually warm Wednesday evening, with Homer dozing off next to the fence while you and Daniel clean out the shed so you can put in fresh hay later. The warmer weather means both you and Daniel have ditched your jackets, Daniel even going as far as taking his sweater off and working in only a t-shirt and so you keep finding yourself stealing glances at his arms and the way his tattoos stand out against his skin.

Of course Daniel catches you looking, “Like what you see?”

Is he flirting with you? If he is, it’s working because you feel the heat rise to your cheeks but try to shrug it off, “I’ve seen better.”

“Hmm,” he teases and throws you a wink. “Let me know if it’s too distracting, babe. I’ll put my sweater back on.”

Babe? Oh God. He really is flirting with you. Fine. Two can play that game, you decide as you lean on your pitchfork, “Are you flexing right now?” You laugh when he seems confused and tease him some more, “Oh my God, you are. You are actually flexing your muscles.”

“Am not,” he shoots back, throwing his spade aside and taking on one of those ridiculous bodybuilder poses, one leg bent as he turns his torso towards you and pumps the muscles in his arms, “Now I am.” He goes through a whole array of poses and ends up with his back towards you, flexing his butt cheeks.

You hate the giggle that escapes you and so you try to play it cool and applaud his efforts instead, holding up an invisible sign, “Ten out of ten, Danny. You have impressed the judges.”

“Judges-” he echoes, “or judge?”

Biting your bottom lip you scrunch your nose, “It takes a lot more than that to impress this judge-” then, because why not, “-babe.”

“Oooh,” Daniel draws out and puts his hand to his chest, pretending to be hurt by your comment, “way to kick me down, boss. Jeepers.”

“You wanna impress me?” You nod towards the last of the dirty hay, “Clean that out for me and then we’ll talk.”

“Or,” Daniel starts, taking a step closer to you and making you look up at him, “I could take you out to dinner on Friday.”

You nod, your throat a little dry from how close he’s standing, “Or you could do that.”

#Daniel Ricciardo #F1 Fanfic #Daniel Ricciardo x reader #F1 imagine #DR3 #Harley Sunday x Daniel Ricciardo #Feels Like Home

221 notes · View notes

mdemontespan1667 · 2 years

Text

THE TROUBLE WITH COYOTES

DARK STEVE (AU) X READER

YOU HAVE CAR TROUBLE AND IT'S STEVE TO THE RESCUE, OR NOT. (I SUCK AT SUMMARIES LOL)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, NON-CON, NON-CON/VAGINAL SEX/VAGINAL PENETRATION BY A FOREIGN OBJECT/MEAN STEVE/ASSHOLE STEVE/ORAL SEX (MALE RECEIVING)/ANAL SEX/SLAPPING/CHOKING/USE OF THE WORD RAPE/SPIT(LUBRICATION PURPOSE ONLY)/CAR SEX/CHEATING/BREEDING KINK/DEGRADATION/BLACKMAIL/REVENGE PORN(?)/NON-CON

AS ALWAYS THIS IS STRICTLY 18 + ONLY

I HAVE TO GIVE YOU A HUGE THANK YOU TO @caffiend-queen. WITHOUT THEIR ADVICE, COMMENTS, SUGGESTIONS, ADVICE, ENCOURAGEMENT AND JUST OVERALL BEING AN ABSOUTELY FANTASTIC FRIEND I PROBABLY WOULDN'T BE WRITING ANYTHING. WORDS CAN'T EXPRESS HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOU TAKING TIME TO DEAL WITH MY CRAP.

“Car trouble?”

“Uh”

Your first instinct was to lie but looking around there really was no other plausible explanation for you to be stopped, in the dark, on the side of barely two lane gravel road.

For the millionth time you wondered why the fuck Betsy had decided to get engaged and move to the middle of Fucking Nowhere Kansas.

She’d blamed it on “Country Boy Dick” which must have been damned impressive to make her give up Neiman’s and the Smithsonian.

“Hello.”

“Oh, uh, sorry. Yeah, I guess so.”

The stranger pulled ahead of your car, executed a perfect three point turn and parked facing your dead vehicle.

“What happened?”

“I have no idea. It started making a weird noise and then it just stopped.”

Your words trailed off as you got a good look at the driver.

He was tall, hair buzzed, dark stubble covering his face.

A grimy, yet somehow still clean, tank top that revealed nicely defined abs, peeked out from under a rugged brown leather jacket.

Battered jeans, that had no business being that snug on his crotch and thighs, completed the ensemble.

Goddamn.

“Country Boy Dick” didn’t seem like such a lame excuse anymore.

“Hey, Hello?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you could pop the hood for me.”

A lazy, knowing smile formed on his lips.

Mortified at being caught gawking, you opened the driver’s side door.

Peering in you looked for something that might “pop the hood” whatever the hell that was.

“You aren’t from around here are you.”

Whirling around, you found him standing right behind you, your bodies almost touching.

You scooted down car, a tiny warning bell tinkling in your head.

“Oh, hey.”

He raised his hands up.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. My name’s Steve.”

Reaching under the dash of your car he pressed a button.

He strode to the hood, lifting it up.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s Meredith.”

No way in hell were you giving a complete stranger your real name, smoking hot or not.

“Well, Meredith,” by the way he emphasized your name you knew he knew you had lied, “your timing belt snapped off.”

“Fucking great.”

You kicked the back tire.

“Ok, thanks for trying Scott. I’ll call Triple A.”

“It’s Steve.”

“Excuse me?”

“Steve. It’s my name Meredith.”

A tiny bit creeped out, you faked a smile.

“Sorry Steve. I suck at remembering names. I’m just gonna call Triple A and…”

“I hate to tell you but the only tow truck for miles is owned by Jake Plessy. And seeing how it’s Friday night I imagine he’s sitting at Rooster’s at least half a bottle in of Jim Beam. You’ll be lucky if he can find his rig before morning.”

“Ok, so, well I’ll call 911.”

Steve laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

You were in no mood for this bullshit.

“Sorry, it’s not funny, but Sheriff Wison is probably sitting right next to Plessy. You might get lucky and catch a State Trooper on patrol, otherwise their closest substation is over an hour away. Or…”

“Or what.”

“Or you could let me give you a ride into town.”

“I think I’ll wait for the police. I mean, I appreciate the offer, uh, Steve, I really do but it’s a rental and I don’t want to just leave it.”

Steve let the hood drop with a bang.

You jumped, flinching at the sound.

“Suit yourself. Make sure you stay in your car. Lot’s of coyotes out on a night like this.”

“Coyotes?”

Right on que a howl drifted across the air.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. They’re more scared of you than you are of them. Normally.”

“Normally?”

Your voice squeaked.

“It’s been a bad summer. They like to pick off the weak. But you should be fine. Have a good night.”

Steve opened his car door.

Looking around you noticed just how absolutely alone you were out here, in the dark.

“Uh, wait. I’ll uh, I’ll take that ride.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s alright if you love me

It’s alright if you don’t

I’m not afraid of you runnin away honey

I get the feeling you won’t

Say there ain’t no use in pretending

Your eyes give you away

Something inside you is feeling like I do

We said all there is to say

Baby

Breakdown, go ahead and give it to me

Breakdown, honey, take me through the night.

The music spilling from the speakers coupled with the steady motion of Steve’s car had almost lulled you to sleep.

Vaguely you wondered why he had turned off the main road thirty minutes or so ago.

You were almost certain Betsy's directions had you staying straight after turning off the highway.

Looking back out the passenger window you watched the flat land pass by.

It was almost hypnotic with nothing to break the view.

Your eyes started to droop shut.

The sudden stop locked your seatbelt, pitching you forward.

“What the hell?”

Steve was facing you, the dashboard lights bathing him in a satanic-esque glow.

“What’s going on, is everything ok?”

“That,” his hand massaged a noticeable bulge under his zipper, “depends on you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Big city girl never heard of put out or get out?”

He unzipped his jeans, lifting his hips to free his cock.

You inhaled sharply at the sight of the large appendage, crimson tinted head shiny with pre-cum.

“You putting out or getting out sweetheart? Town’s a good 20 miles North of here.

You stared out the windshield.

The moon was a pale sliver illuminating nothing.

“Fine,” you huffed, bending towards him.

“Hey.”

“Wha…”

SMACK

Steve slapped you.

“No teeth. You understand.”

“Yeah…I… Yeah, I understand,” you stammered.

“Then get to it.”

Leaning down, you took a tentative lick.

Determined to get it over quickly, you attacked his cock, head bobbing, cheeks hollowed, hand twisting at the base.

Steve gripped the back of your head pressing you down.

You gagged around him, hands beating his chest.

He pulled you up only to force you down again, repeating until you caught his rhythm, doing your best to take all of him, adding a swirl on each upstroke.

You prepared yourself to swallow, instead he shoved you away.

“Strip.”

“Nuh Uh. No fucking way. I’ll give you a blowjob but that’s…..”

He held up his phone.

A video of you between his legs flared on the screen.

“Poor Betsy. Imagine how hurt she’ll be when she sees her best friend slobbering all over her future husband’s knob.”

Your eyes grew wide.

“How did you..No..no..this isn’t happening. She wouldn’t…”

Steve lurched across the seats, pinning you by the throat to the passenger door, head hitting the window.

“Yeah she would. She believes every word I say. I walk on water as far as that dumb bitch is concerned,” he sneered, “Good thing her mom’s loaded huh? Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to stand her.”

You batted at his arm.

“Let me go you son of a…….”

He tightened his grip.

“Or how about I send this to that hot shot Senator you work for? How long do you think it’d take Mr Family Values to fire your skanky ass?”

Eyes now the shape of saucers you croaked, “How do you know…”

“SHUT UP!,” he bellowed in your face, spittle flying.

“I know because Betsy never shuts the fuck up either. Your big career, your fancy apartment, all the parties you took her to. All I ever hear about is you.”

Steve scowled, pure hate emanating from his voice.

“But she’s mine now. It’ll suck when she finds out you seduced me, I mean I couldn’t keep you off my dick, practically raped me.”

“Or,” he leaned in, “We could have a little fun and no one would have to know.”

He caressed your cheek.

“Yes or no, I ain’t got all night.”

Too stunned to speak, you nodded your head.

“Good girl.”

Settling back in the driver’s seat, he gazed at you expectantly.

Shaking, you removed the knee high leopard print boots, black leggings and oversized black Cashmere sweater, leaving on the pink, lace edged balconette bra and matching thong.

Steve raised his eyebrows in a show of impatience.

WIth a defeated sigh, you finished undressing.

You shivered even though the engine was still running, heat pouring from the vents.

Sliding closer, he pawed at your tits, one hand dropping to your apex.

His touch was crude, rough, devoid of any finesse.

He shoved two fingers in your dry channel.

You gritted your teeth.

His mouth descended to your chest, laving and biting the nipples.

Graciously, your body provided some lubrication, Steve’s fingers finding less resistance.

By pure chance his thumb brushed your clit, stomach instinctively contracting.

Like a kid with a new found toy, Steve played with your nub, his harsh touch firing your senses.

You squirmed, embarrassed, his attention firmly on the bundle of nerves.

He rubbed faster, callused fingers contrasting with the smoother skin.

Heat built, a sure sign of an impending orgasm.

Horrified at your body’s betrayal, you fought to keep it at bay.

It was a losing battle.

The orgasm washed over you in soft waves, a small moan escaping your locked jaw.

Furious at your internal treason, you elbowed him away.

“Sit down,” you hissed, obviously intending to ride him.

“Not yet. I’ve got a better idea.”

Steve gestured to the hard, plastic shifter.

You recoiled, revolted at the thought.

“Are you insane? I’m not doing that, no fucking way.”

“Fine.”

He snatched your clothes, tossing them from the car.

“Start walking. By the time you make it to town everyone will know what a whore you are.”

The slump of your shoulders signaled your surrender.

“I don’t…” you fought back tears, “I ..how do I..”

Steve spit on the handle.

“Figure it out before I get bored and leave you here anyway.”

Softly crying, you positioned a knee on each bucket seat, arms braced on the dashboard.

Oh so carefully you descended, unable to stifle a whimper of pain.

He palmed his cock, licking his lips.

“Go on, I wanna see you ride it.”

You bounced haltingly, hyperaware not to take the object too deep.

Steve stomped on the gas pedal, the revving engine vibrating the shifter, sending sparks shooting from your core.

Shame burned bright with the fresh slick that coated the plastic.

“Holy shit,” Steve muttered, voice low with lust.

He slid a hand between your legs, circling your clit causing you to gasp at the duel sensations.

“Dirty slut. You’re getting off on this.”

You shook your head, silently pleading with your deceitful body.

Unfortunately, it had other plans.

Muscles tensed as you came again, stronger than the last, Steve supporting you as you shook with tremors.

Your humiliated bliss was short lived.

“Move.”

Hesitation earned you another slap.

Extricating yourself, he opened the driver’s door, dragging you with him.

Turning you around, Steve shoved your face down, leaving your lower half exposed, legs straight, ass in the air, gravel cutting the soles of your bare feet.

You stifled a scream as buried his cock in one brutal shove, stretching your walls to their limit.

He clutched your hips, holding you steady.

“Fucking hell, I didn’t think your pussy’d be so tight.”

“Just,” you hiccuped, “Just hurry up.”

Instantly he changed pace.

He leisurely slid back and forth, bumping your g-spot.

“Maybe I’ll cum inside you,” he mused.

“No, God no,” you blubbered, “Don’t..don’t do that.”

You reared up, trying to escape but Steve held you in place, your struggles egging him on.

“Been trying to knock Betsy up for a few months, insurance policy so’s she don’t leave.”

Tears streaming, you begged, “Don’t do this…I’m not on anything.”

“I bet you’d be cute, all fat, tits swelled up.”

“Please, please, please,” you sobbed, “Please don’t.”

The head of his cock nudged your puckered hole.

This time you couldn’t contain the scream.

Snot and tears mingled on your face.

“Poor baby, I thought you’d like taking a dick in the ass.”

He thrusted deeper, gaining enjoyment from your pain.

“Ass or cunt? Your choice. Either way I’m blowing a load in you.”

Picking the lesser of two evils you whispered.

“Ass.”

“Good choice.”

Forcing your body to relax, you swept a finger across your still sensitive nub, praying for a distraction.

“Piece of friendly advice Sweetheart.”

He punctuated the words with the snap of his hips.

“Don’t leave your car alone at strange gas stations.”

You wanted to rage at his revelation, howl at the moon for this cruel twist.

Steve fucked you mercilessly, bruises forming on your hip and ass.

You lashed at your clit, shutting out everything but the blooming pleasure.

Unbidden, your hips rocked to meet his body, caught in spasms as you came.

He followed, hips pumping erratically, rope after rope of warm, sticky cum coating your insides.

Sated, he withdrew, buckling his jeans, tossing your clothes at your feet.

You dressed, shuddering both from the cold and his assault, folding yourself gingerly back in the passenger seat.

“Check this out,”

You glanced over, eyes dull from crying.

Your mouth dropped open.

Another video, this time of you riding the shifter to orgasm, displayed.

“You fucking asshole,” you shrieked, pummeling him with your fists, “You said…”

“I didn’t say shit,” he smirked again, holding the phone just out of your reach, “It’s a little extra motivation to keep your trap shut. I mean who knows, I might wanna get my dick wet again before you leave.”

You dove for the phone, managing to bite his wrist, drawing blood.

“Fucking cunt!”

He dropped the phone, wrapping both hands around your throat.

“I own you bitch! You hear me! I’ll post this on PornHub. You won’t be so high and mighty then will you!”

The fight left with each denied breath, until you laid still, tears once more flowing down your face.

Steve let go, straightened his jacket, popping the car in gear.

He sped off, humming along to the radio.

Curling into a ball, you stared blankly out the window, wishing in vain you’d taken your chance with the coyotes.

Breakdown/Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers/1976

@fanfic-fangirl @mcudarklibrary @caffiend-queen @alexakeyloveloki @americasass81 @lokislastlove @sweeterthanthis @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @ironlady1993 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @nildespirandum @jennmurawski13 @starynighty @sapphirescrolls @momc95 @sagechanoafterdark @jtargaryen18 @demonsandpieohmy @cockslutpadalecki @dangertoozmanykids101 @lizzystuffsthings @shikin83 @km-ffluv

@sinceimetyou @buckybarnesandmarvel @imdarkinme @xsapphirescrollsx @xoxabs88xox @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @titty-teetee @saiyanprincessswanie @dragon-of-dreams

IF I DIDN'T TAG YOU AND YOU'D LIKE TO BE TAGGED LET ME KNOW. IF I DID TAG YOU AND YOU DON'T WANT TO BE I APOLOGIZE AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW SO I DON'T TAG YOU IN ANY FUTURE FICS.

#DARK STEVE AU X READER #DARK STEVE AU AND READER #DARK STEVE ROGERS AU X READER #DARK STEVE ROGERS AU AND READER #DARK STEVE AU #DARK STEVE ROGERS AU #DARK STEVE #DARK STEVE ROGERS #DARK #DARK AVENGERS #DARK AVENGERS AU #MEAN STEVE #MEAN STEVE ROGERS #COUNTRY BOY DICK

329 notes · View notes

nycbabyjoey · 1 year

Text

A Baby in Toyland

NSFW 18+ Only

Contains ABDL Content

Cynthia tore through the collection of dumb, goofy baby dolls that aligned the shelves. So dumb, she thought as she tossed each doll to the side. None of them were the crown jewel that she was looking for.

Princess Uh-Oh! The only baby doll on the market that will have you saying "uh-oh"!

It was the hottest selling toy this Christmas season, although the reason was beyond Cynthia's understanding. What kid would want a doll that pisses and shits itself? These toy companies just want to indoctrinate girls into motherhood while they were still young. Disgusting.

Cynthia's attitude towards dolls had drawn ire from her sister last Christmas when Cynthia got her five-year old niece a pocket dictionary instead of any of the baby dolls or bedazzling kits that her niece actually wanted. This Christmas, Cynthia's sister had instructed her to go to Toyland and buy Princess Uh-Oh for her niece.

Cynthia had procrastinated on the task out of protest, and admittedly maybe a dash of laziness, but now it was Christmas Eve and this was her last chance to get the stupid thing and wrap it before morning. Unfortunately, Cynthia had cleared the shelves and it appeared as though Princess Uh-Oh had sold out. Oh well, Cynthia thought. Now I can get her something more stimulating.

"Can I help you find anything?" a voice asked from behind her.

Cynthia jumped. There was a woman stood right behind her, but Cynthia was certain she wasn't there a second ago. Cynthia observed the woman's outfit. Her tits were nearly falling out of her shirt. How unprofessional, Cynthia thought. Why do women feel the need to dress like sluts?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you," the woman said. "I'm Betsy Blonka, the founder and owner of Toyland."

Really? This Whore of Babylon ran the toy store?

"Well no, you don't have what I'm looking for. Besides, all these toys are doing is poisoning the minds of today's youth and I have no interest in them," Cynthia responded before turning to leave. "Also, your outfit is very unprofessional, especially for someone working with children."

Betsy just titled her head and gave a polite smile. "I know the holiday season can be stressful, but I'm happy to help alleviate any anxiety you may have," she said brightly. "Were you looking for Princess Uh-Oh? She's a very hot seller this year."

Cynthia was flustered. The woman had been so kind. She must've been trying to embarrass her and make her look bad. "Y-yes, I was," Cynthia stammered.

"Follow me," Betsy instructed. "We may have some spares in the back."

Cynthia followed "Busty Betsy" through the toy store. She had to admit: the store was quite extensive... and eccentric. Model planes flew through the air, stuffed animals seemed to sing and dance on their own. It was a toylover's dream, but Cynthia's nightmare.

After a fairly long walk, the two approached a door in the back. Betsy unlocked it and prodded Cynthia to take a step inside.

Cynthia was perplexed by what she saw. There were no Princess Uh-Oh dolls back here. There weren't any toys at all; the space was completely empty save for a pink dollhouse on the floor in the middle of the room. Otherwise, they were surrounded by concrete walls. Betsy locked the door behind them.

"What is this?" Cynthia inquired.

"Toys fill us with wonder and activate our imaginations," Betsy said. "It's time you have that spark again."

Suddenly, the dollhouse in the center began to glow. Cynthia looked down and her whole body began to glow the same way.

"What's going on?" Cynthia asked, frightened. "What's happening to m-"

In a flash, everything changed. Cynthia gasped. She had been transported. She was no longer in the cold, concrete backroom of Toyland. She was in a cozy living room with a big old Christmas tree and a toy train making its way around the tracks. Cynthia found herself sitting on the carpeted floor against a teddy bear that was larger than her.

She started to stand, but immediately found herself unable to. Her legs gave way and she instantly landed on her butt, but something cushioned her fall. Cynthia looked down in horror at her lack of clothing. She only saw a pink ribbon around her neck, Mary Janes on her feet, and - most shockingly - the item that had broken her short fall: a puffy, white diaper.

Cynthia jumped again as Betsy leaned towards her, having again been oblivious to her presence. She sat above her in a yellow armchair and wore even less clothing than before.

"Merry Christmas, baby!" Betsy exclaimed. "Welcome to the dreamhouse!"

Cynthia went to shout, but a pacifier blocked her words causing them to come out as dribble on her exposed chest.

"Uh uh uh," Betsy said, plucking out Cynthia's dummy. "Use your words."

"We're in the dollhouse?!" Cynthia asked, exclaimed.

"Yep," Betsy responded nonchalantly. "You're the baby doll and that makes me the Mommy doll."

"This can't be real," Cynthia gasped. "You have to put me back!"

"Nuh-uh," Betsy said, getting up. "Not until you learn to play with your toys like a good girl. Why don't you play with your dolly while Mommy warms up your ba-ba?"

Betsy... er, Mommy threw a Christmas shirt with gingerbread and candy canes over Cynthia's naked chest before leaving the room. "Wait!" Cynthia cried out. She jumped to her feet, but found herself unable to use them again falling face first onto the carpet.

She lifted her head and saw something sat on the floor in front of her. It was a baby doll. One dressed just like her from the blonde hair to the thick diapered bottom. Was she really expected to play with this?

Cynthia grabbed the doll by the arm and started smacking it against the carpeted floor until she threw it against the teddy bear where it bounced delicately onto the floor. "Stupid!" she shouted at it, sticking her tongue out and crossing her arms.

She didn't need the infantile costume to have come off childish. Only a few minutes and she was already having a tantrum like a toddler. But so what? She was frustrated! She couldn't walk, she was stuck in diapers, and now she was being forced to play with the stupid dolls that she hated? She would rather sit on the floor and wait for... Mommy to bring her her ba-ba.

What felt like an hour passed and Cynthia had resorted to babyishly making saliva bubbles with her mouth. She rolled over on her stomach and the dolly reentered her view. She scoffed. She was not a baby and she didn't play with toys!

Suddenly, a repressed memory entered her mind as she looked at the dolly. She was three years old (actually three years old) and she asked Santa for a Holiday Hailey baby doll. She had wanted one so badly. But Santa brought her a jigsaw puzzle instead. She cried all Christmas morning and stopped asking Santa for toys after that year.

She looked at the doll once more. "Holiday Hailey?" It was true. The doll she had thrown had been the baby doll she had asked Santa for all those years ago. She crawled as fast as she could on all fours back to the teddy bear where Hailey laid.

She picked it up and started moving its arms, feeling silly as she did so. She peeked around over he shoulder and spoke under her breath, "Hi Hailey, I'm Cynthia."

The doll remained silent.

"M- Mommy says we should play together," Cynthia shared with a bit more confidence this time. "What should we do?"

No response.

"A Christmas tea party?" Cynthia asked, having heard nothing. "I don't know..."

Cynthia felt ridiculous. The doll wasn't talking to her and she knew that. Had she really succumbed to such boredom that she was willing to humiliate herself by having dinner with a doll? She had to admit, though - talking to the doll made her feel better. Like she wasn't so alone or that there was a friend for her who cared. It gave her the warm, fleeting feeling that she had writing to Santa so many Christmases ago.

"Do you prefer green or Oolong?"

Credit: @daddysdreamydollie

"Ba-ba's ready," Betsy sang, coming back from the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks noticing Cynthia's new setup. Cynthia sat in a tiny chair at a tiny table along with Holiday Hailey and the teddy bear. She held a small toy teapot as she poured pretend tea into Hailey's cup.

"Dere you go, Hailey," Cynthia lisped in between her pacifier. "Would you wike some mo', Mista Beaw?"

"Well, well, well," Betsy said. "Is somebody having fun with her toys?"

Cynthia turned and blushed. She had gotten a bit carried away, but it was so nice to have a night of childlike innocence again.

"Yeth, Mommy," she replied sheepishly.

"That's good," Betsy said. "But it's time to put your toys away and come have your milk."

"Wait," Cynthia said, crawling over from the tea table. "Since I've been a good girl and pwayed with my toys, can I go home now?"

Betsy chuckled. "Oh silly, don't you get it? This is your home now!"

Cynthia's pacifier fell out of her mouth from shock. "But- but- you said if I played with my toys..."

"And you'll have plenty of time to do that," Betsy interrupted. "But I also said you were the baby doll of the dollhouse and... it's Christmas Eve. We've already sold the dollhouse as a Christmas gift to a young girl. You're going to be her doll, of course!"

"You're going to be that impetus of childlike wonder for a lucky little girl that Hailey is for you," she continued. "You'll be the one to light up the magic in that little girl's life this Christmas. And she'll take care of you - give you your ba-ba, change your clothes, and especially change your messy diapers. You'll be the new Princess Uh-Oh!"

"And it looks like someone has already earned her title," Betsy snickered. "Let Mommy get you changed and you can change Hailey's own stinky diaper while you lay on the changing table. You haven't noticed? You just made your own little uh-oh in your pants, little missy."

It's a wonderful toy! It's Patreon!

#ab/dl #ab/dl caption #ab/dl mommy #ab/dl girl #mommysbaby #mommy kink #md/lg

118 notes · View notes

notahorseindisguise · 4 months

Note

so this might be a bit out of place but. everytime you cross my dash I feel like I'm watching an anime protagonist having a whole adventure out there while I'm their neighbour or something. like I'm sipping coffee on my porch in the morning and going. Oh today Corn is fighting an entire Nothern Hemisphere over what is a Christmas Weather. Now they are trying to rig a poll for some old dude to win. Oh today Betsy is emailing a cult. Aaaand this time it's movie liveblogging. I live for it tbh

the cult never got back to me btw . i shouldve followed up idk why i didnt

#BUT THATS SO FUNNY THANK YOU ANOB #anon #im really just out here having b plots every day

10 notes · View notes

trashboatprince · 8 months

Note

Fourteen becomes convinced that the Bentley is the Tardis whose chameleon circuit has somehow fixed itself and/or another tardis and takes it for a joyride?

More misadventures of 2023 DT characters getting into other 2023 DT characters' modes of transportation.

Warning: again, ignore that the show version of Doctor Who exists in Good Omens canon. This isn't tied to the other fic, this one is just if the situation was reversed.

On with the fic!

The Doctor stared at the beautiful, shiny Bentley that had honked at them, yet there was no driver in sight. No one was hiding in the back seats, nor down in the area when your feet go.

"Hello there." The Doctor greeted, and jumped when it honked at them in reply. They blinked, then felt a grin grow on their face. "Oh ho! Friendly, aren't you?"

They had never seen a car react to them before like this, and it had them curious. They put a hand on the hood, gently patting it. There was a strange feeling coming from the metal, a sentience, which most automobiles do not have, at least no in this time period.

Was this the TARDIS? Had her chameleon circuit finally decided to work correctly again? Or had the old girl decided she need a change and allow the circuit to work?

"Look at you, you're a real beauty like this! Didn't take you for a fan of the classic cars! Is this because of Betsy? Mind you, she was a reliable, ol' car!"

The Bentley honked again at the Doctor, making a grumbling sound at them from the engine even though it wasn't weren't running.

"Ah? Not my TARDIS then? Hmm, I see, I see." They nodded and walked over to the driver's side. "Mind if I have a look inside?"

The door unlocked and they grinned. "Much obliged!" They patted the top of the car before slipping inside, finding it miraculously well adjusted for their current height, with no uncomfortable issues of having to pull their long legs up to their chest in order to fit!

The inside of the Bentley was well kept, very clean, everything looked original, minus the CD and cassette player that clearly shouldn't be, but seemed as if they had been built into the dashboard when she was first produced.

Was she a TARDIS? Seemed like only a TARDIS or a really good shimmer could pull off that trick. "Let's see, how do we go about checking your..."

There was a click and the lights of the dash came on, and so did the radio, as the engine started to purr. The Doctor laughed as the song Starman by David Bowie began to play. "Outstanding! Loving the music choice, aren't you a clever thing?"

There was a happy rumble from the engine.

"Now, can you give me any information on who your pilot is? Not every day I find a sentient vehicle in 21st century London!"

The music seemed to change and now the Doctor heard Queen begin to play, specifically Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy. How... odd?

"Hey! What the heaven are you-!? Get out of there!"

The Doctor turned their attention away from the radio to look at the approaching figure. They stared at them in surprise, it was like looking in a mirror!

A mirror that favored putting you in a retired rock star's outfit, but that was made up for by that brilliant shade of red hair the stranger was sporting!

Ooh, they always knew they could pull off ginger!

"That's your pilot, I take it?" They asked and the Bentley honked. "You're not a TARDIS, are you?"

Another honk, one that sounded like an apology.

"Ah, it's alright, you're just as lovely, and just as fascinating as one, you beauty!"

There was another happy car sound as the stranger stopped at the door, throwing it open. "Out. Now."

"Right, yes, apologies. Sorry, I thought she was my TARDIS and then she let me get inside and poke about, fascinating set up in there! What sort of-"

"Shut up and explain to me how the heck you got her to be blue!? You're as bad as the angel with his yellow!"

"Blue?" The Doctor turned and looked, oh! "Oh, look at you!" They grinned.

The Bentley was now a gorgeous shade of TARDIS blue, how curious!

I think Crowley might like Fourteen's company, but isn't too pleased about a stranger getting into the Bentley and her changing color. Again.

Also, I just realized you asked for a joyride, whoops. Maybe next time? :D Fourteen drives the Bentley, Crowley drives the TARDIS?

#good omens #doctor who #crowley #anthony j crowley #fourteenth doctor #john's drabbles

20 notes · View notes

hondagirll · 8 months

Text

@dollsome-does-tumblr tagged me on my top 9 books. I need to stress how HARD this was to choose only 9. As someone who (checks my GR) reads an average of 75 books a year, this was incredibly stressful but I did it. This are my top books that I come back and re-read, year after year, some decade after decade.

The Queen's Thief by Megan Walen Turner: Our first introduction to Gen, love of my life and the most unreliable narrator I have ever met.

Persuasion by Jane Austen: Second chance at love? Indifferent family members? Anne who thinks Wentworth is completely and totally over her and Wentworth, who thinks he is completely and totally over Anne except she's the sole focus of his attention every time they meet up? HERE FOR IT.

Betsy Was a Junior by Maud Hart Lovelace: It is really hard to pick one from the series, the last six books I usually re-read in one go but I love Betsy's junior year if only for the herbarium project shenagians - "THERE WERE NO FALL FLOWERS TURNED IN! NEVER, IN ALL MY TEACHING YEARS!" Incredible.

The Firebird by Susanan Kearsley: You have to read book #1 first but this sequel is my favorite (and I love books 1 and 3 a lot!). So many characters and storylines and I adore the setting. At 500 pages it's one of those books you can just sit down and spend a entire day getting lost in it. Which I do no matter how many times I re-read.

Slightly Dangerous by Mary Balogh: Re-read this back in July and this historical romance novel still holds up. Such a great love story. Also nice to see Wulfric meet someone who isn't afraid of him, his ducal title and his quizzing glass.

Anne of Green Gables by LM Montgomery: I first discovered Anne when I was 10 or 11 and instantly recognized she was a kindred spirit. That feeling hasn't changed over the years. That said, I had a hard choice choosing between this one or Rilla of Ingleside, because I love Rilla so much as well. This one won out 'cuz it the start of Anne and her story but Rilla was a close runner up.

Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell: Don't get me wrong, I love North and South and the romance, but this monstrosity of book depicting small town (white) life back in 1800's England I love just a smidge more. It's got everything - family, step parents, young love, charismatic older men, secrets and gossip. Lots and lots of gossip. Seriously. This book is little old ladies gossip central station.

Long May She Reign by Ellen Emerson White: Final book in the President's Daughter series and my absolute favorite. Meg is one of the toughest fictional characters I have ever met and I am in awe of her and her strength. Plus, she's the President's daughter which is its own strain to bear.

Romancing Mr. Bridgerton by Julia Quinn: I know people have *opinions* on the show but let me tell you, when I first read this book twenty years ago it imprinted on my soul like a little baby bird. Colin and Penelope forever! Always!

tagging @queenofattolia @ladytharen @acehardy @mrgaretcarter @librarianmouse @stars-inthe-sky @hmsharmony @waywardted and whoever else wants to do this. I know I have more readers on my dash!

#literature #books #intro post #i love talking about books and reading #sidenote seven of these books are part of a series #i just noticed that #clearly i have a type and its series love

16 notes · View notes

clydesdonovan · 2 years

Note

heADCANONS CRYDE HEADCANONS PLEAs

goD okay I have been slowly adding to this for like 2 days whenever I had the chance and it made me so happy djsjdf I love talking cryde headcanons so much.

These are probably things I’ve said before but they’re some of my personal favorites sooo 🥺

Craig’s phone is full of candid pictures of Clyde that he’s taken over the years. Photographer Craig my beloved, he always snaps pictures of Clyde when he’s laughing, or using his hands to tell a dramatic story, or getting annoyed at a video game, or playing with Rex and Stripe. They’re all just random photos of Clyde being Clyde, but that’s exactly why Craig took them.

Clyde saves every single thing Craig has ever written for him — whether it’s a note passed in class, a birthday card, sheets for their numerous roleplays, homework he graciously let Clyde borrow. Craig has chicken-scratch handwriting and sometimes it’s hard to read, but Clyde cherishes every single thing anyway.

Craig is obsessed with Clyde’s cooking. Clyde is an amazing cook, he inherited a lot of really great recipes, and really great skills, from Betsy, and he loves to mess around with new ideas. He always ends up making tasty dishes or baking sweet desserts, and he always saves a plate for Craig (or else Craig will be very upset that he missed out on Clyde’s cooking).

Clyde is super clingy — literally. He just loves to cuddle, or hold hands, or lean against people, or put his head in someone’s lap. He’s a cuddly boy !!! Craig, obviously, is most often at the receiving end of Clyde’s need for closeness. (And he loves it very much, even if he sometimes pretends he doesn’t. Craig is Soft™️ for Clyde always.)

Clyde the clothes-thief my beloved. He is always stealing Craig’s stuff. You’ll find him wearing Craig’s old hoodie, or one of Craig’s favorite t-shirts, or Craig’s new jacket that he only wore like two times. He wears Craig’s stuff more than his own at this point, but like… they’re comfy and they’re Craig’s. Clyde is never giving them back.

Likewise, Craig isn’t really a thief like Clyde is, but he never turns down a chance to flaunt Clyde’s iconic letterman jacket. Not that being a jock means anything special (Clyde is still a big dork anyway), but it does make Clyde really happy, and the jacket is surprisingly comfortable so… win/win.

They argue about aliens. Like, a lot. They both believe they exist, but what kind of aliens they are is where the bickering starts. Are they gray or green? Little and cute or big and monstrous? Will they enslave the world or come in peace? Do they eat humans and abduct cows? Craig and Clyde will argue about aliens for hours if someone lets them. (Their friends are very tired.)

They kick ass at Mario Kart Double Dash. It’s a classic during their sleepover nights and they’ve pretty much scared away all of their friends from playing too by now — they win nearly every time. Clyde-Bowser and Craig-Luigi are just the best team literally ever.

They wore matching Halloween costumes until they were at least in college. It was always something silly: Shaggy and Scooby, Ash and Gary, Wario and Waluigi, etc. Every year, Craig swore they wouldn’t do it, but every year, Clyde’s puppy-dog eyes proved him wrong. (And besides, Craig is just as lame and cheesy too, even if he won’t admit it.)

They constantly make late-night runs across town to grab fast food. 90% of the time, it’s not even because they wanted food, but because they just wanted to be together, listening to Craig’s nighttime playlist or Clyde’s mess of Spotify favorites, and just exist for a few minutes.

Roger Donovan is the biggest cryde supporter of all time okay he loves them so much. He spent a lot of looonnng nights talking with Clyde about his developing feelings and how to deal with them, and all of the confusion that sometimes comes with it. So, in the end, he feels so happy he almost cries when Clyde mentions, casually over dinner, that Craig is his boyfriend now :’)

#asks #honey-creek #u know WHAT I’m tagging this #cryde #sp cryde #hi fellow crydes. let’s chat #I’m sorry this is so late it’s been a rough 2 days fjsjdkf #but coming back to add something else made me happy 🥺#and now I feel like these are Ready to be shared

104 notes · View notes

justforbooks · 6 months

Text

In the late 1960s, Burt Young dashed off a letter to Lee Strasberg, who ran the Actors Studio in New York, hoping to be taken on as a student. “Seriously, Lee, I don’t know if acting has anything for me, or vice versa, but I’m treading water,” he wrote. “So see me.”

The letter was intended to curry favour with a woman whom Young was trying to impress, and whose dream it was to study with Strasberg. Both she and Young were invited to audition. She quit after drying up during her first acting class but Strasberg was impressed by the stubby, paunchy Young, telling him: “You have huge tension about you. I feel you’re an emotional library.”

Less than a decade later, Young, who has died aged 83, found fame playing Paulie Pennino, the gormless, rough-and-tumble butcher who is brother-in-law to the aspiring prizefighter Rocky Balboa (Sylvester Stallone) in the rags-to-riches hit Rocky (1976).

“I thought the script had the cleanest street prose I’d ever read,” said Young. Among the film’s 10 Oscar nominations was one for him as best supporting actor. It won three prizes, including best picture.

In Young’s hands, Paulie was roguishly endearing as well as exasperating. The actor described him as “all burly on the outside and all quicksand inside”. Paulie’s tenderness toward Rocky is forever being complicated by his jealousy at the boxer’s success. Any initial tension or piquancy in the drama, however, was diluted by a stream of sequels in which Stallone and Young reprised their roles. One low-point was Rocky IV (1985), which begins with Paulie receiving a robot butler as a gift from Rocky, whose success has made him profligate. Paulie modifies the robot to give it a female voice.

He is last seen in the sixth instalment, Rocky Balboa (2006), where he is once again the boxer’s corner-man. The character’s death is alluded to in the spin-off Creed (2015), in which Young does not appear.

Paulie was typical of many of the roles that came Young’s way: you could hear the hair growing in their ears, smell the stink on their singlets, feel their brain cells dying. In Back to School (1986), for instance, he played a tough-guy chauffeur described by the hero, played by the comic Rodney Dangerfield, as “an animal. In his family, he’s only the second generation to stand upright.”

For Young, it was never that simple. In Robert Aldrich’s vulgar cop comedy The Choirboys (1977), his turn as a cackling sergeant was singled out by the Washington Post as “human and appealing”. Cast as the flawed, the coarse or the criminal in films such as Sergio Leone’s gangster epic Once Upon a Time in America (1984) or Alan Alda’s whimsical Betsy’s Wedding (1989), he allowed a rumpled warmth to shine through the cracks, his actorly intelligence informing every choice.

Esteemed co-stars respected his craft. Jack Nicholson shared a scene with Young at the start of Roman Polanski’s neo-noir thriller Chinatown (1974), and was said to have greatly admired the actor and to have used him as the model for the laconic hood he played in Prizzi’s Honour (1985).

James Caan, with whom Young first worked on the shore-leave love story Cinderella Liberty (1973), wangled parts for him in The Gambler (1974), inspired by (though not adapted from) the Dostoevsky novella of the same name, and The Killer Elite (1975). The latter was the first of two films that Young made for the director Sam Peckinpah, the other being the action-comedy Convoy (1978).

“Everybody was scared of [Peckinpah],” said Young. “The studios were scared of him. The other actors. And so they would go through me, because I had no fear of nobody.”

It was Aldrich who became Young’s friend and loyal collaborator, directing him in The Choirboys, the nuclear-age thriller Twilight’s Last Gleaming (1977) and …All the Marbles (1981), a salty comedy about female wrestling released outside the US as The California Dolls.

A 1978 Esquire magazine profile dwelt on the actor’s history of juvenile delinquency and general criminality, noting that his life was “lifted right out of the pages of Damon Runyon”.

He was born in Queens, New York. His birth name has been listed variously as Gerald De Louise and Richard Morea, with Burt Young the name he adopted once he became an actor. His mother, Josephine, and father, Michael, an ice-delivery man and sheet metal worker who later trained as a teacher, tried to improve his chances by sending him to Bryant high school, an establishment in a better neighbourhood, but he was soon expelled. He attended St Anne’s academy, from which he was also ejected.

At 16, he joined the Marines, served tours of duty in Japan and the Philippines, and developed an aptitude for boxing. After a dishonourable discharge, he returned to New York and boxed professionally, training under the renowned Cus D’Amato and Charley Goldman. Fighting under three different aliases, he claimed to have amassed a record of 17 wins to one loss.

He became a truck driver, managed a silk-screen printing business that went bankrupt, part-owned a bakery and a bar, and worked for his brother’s Manhattan carpet-cleaning firm, before starting an outlet of his own in Queens. He later opened his own restaurant, Burt Young’s Il Boschetto, in the Bronx.

His first acting jobs included parts in the daytime soap The Doctors (1969) and the crime comedy The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight (1971). Over more than half a century, he accumulated around 160 movie and TV credits including The Pope of Greenwich Village (1984) with Mickey Rourke, a harrowing adaptation of Hubert Selby Jr’s Last Exit to Brooklyn (1989), the Hugh Grant comedy Mickey Blue Eyes (1999), which reunited him with Caan, and Transamerica (2005), in which he was the father of a trans woman played by Felicity Huffman.

He also wrote and starred in two films: the TV movie Daddy, I Don’t Like It Like This, about a boy whose father tries to toughen him up, and the sentimental Uncle Joe Shannon (both 1978), in which he played a bereaved trumpeter. In recent times, Young devoted much of his life to painting.

One of his most wrenching performances was in a 2001 episode of the HBO series The Sopranos. He played an ageing hoodlum, dying of cancer and grateful to be given one final hit to carry out. The assignment ends unforgettably in blood and bathos.

Crime was an area he felt he might have lapsed into were it not for the approval he received from Strasberg. “I come from that life,” he said. “To this day, two of my best friends are doing 100 years.”

But he was acting well into his dotage. “Rather than flying high, I’m wide,” he said in 2002. “I still have ambition, but I’m slow. I’ll never be Tom Cruise.”

Nor would anyone have wanted him to be: there was more character in one grin or grimace from Young than in a dozen vehicles featuring sleeker, shinier stars.

He is survived by Anne, his daughter, from his marriage to Gloria, who died in 1974.

🔔 Burt Young (Gerald De Louise), actor, born 30 April 1940; died 8 October 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #Burt Young #in memoriam

13 notes · View notes