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fayes-fics · 7 months

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Anthony (either modern or regency as you seem fit) as a Dom and is in a punishment scene with the reader and he isn't holding anything back

If it's possible it would be great if not no issues your work is awesome ❤️

Kinktober: Anthony + Punishment / Impact Play

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Anthony Bridgeton x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dom/sub, dom!Anthony, sub!reader, light bondage, impact play (riding crop) incl breast and pussy cropping, subspace, vaginal sex.

Author’s note: hi nonny! Well, errr, this one ran away with me! I should probably cut it down, but oh well. Thank you for your kind words. I set this in Regency. I hope Anthony is as you wish here, and I hope you enjoy! 🧡

You pant softly, kneeling naked at the fireside, knees splayed lewdly wide at his command, your wrists bound to your sides by your stockings looping around your thighs. Anthony circles you, fully clothed, his riding boots clomping loudly even on the thick wool rug. A thrill zipping down your spine and prickling over your scalp at the anticipation of the next stroke.

He lands a stinging swat on your right breast, and you hiss, the pleasure in the pain melting your core into liquid fire. With each strike, your clit swells, pulsing in tandem with your racing heart. He quickly does the same on your left breast but catches an edge of your nipple; you can’t school the noisy mewling moan that escapes you, the pang acute.

“Stop whining!” he snaps, so you bite your lip and bow your head, knowing you will have to keep your responses to little whimpers and heavy breaths.

The next hit is on the flesh of your left inner thigh, and you merely exhale harshly out of your nose to counter the sting, feeling so utterly aroused, certain you are spoiling the luxury rug beneath you. As Anthony circles, another flick of the crop on your left shoulder blade and your right bicep in quick succession, each making you whimper quietly, aching for him to just fuck you. He stops still in front of you.

The soft leather tongue of the riding crop trails over your skin, starting at your breastbone and then a straight line down your centre until it reaches the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs and your stomach knots. You inhale sharply as he slides the crop into your slit, a cool drag over your soaked, burning folds.

“Look at me!” He commands, and instantly your head snaps up, meeting his fiery gaze as he teases your clit with a back-and-forth motion.

You shudder and whimper as he flicks a light blow squarely on your engorged clit. Not harsh like those elsewhere on your body. You crave more, a word falling from your lips in an almost ashamed murmur.

“What was that?” he clips, the crop teasing you maddeningly.

“Harder, my lord,” you repeat louder, teeth clenched.

His smirk is triumphant, and his eyes glitter with danger as he flicks his wrist and strikes a fraction harsher three times, making you exhale raggedly, swallowing your decadent moans, rocketed so close to orgasm your thighs tremble.

You whine as he withdraws the crop, desperate for him to hold it still so you can frig yourself upon its stalk to orgasm—no such luck. Instead, his other hand cups your jaw and hinges your mouth open with his thumb.

“Clean up the mess you made,” he orders, shoving the tip onto your tongue. It tastes tart with your arousal alongside the meaty flavour of the cowhide.

You dutifully suckle until it’s clean, eyes wide and beseeching, not looking away as he observes you with an expression of thunderous lust. Suddenly, he pulls it from your mouth and disappears from view.

“Please, my lord…” you implore shakily, so overwrought, your entire being quivering with need.

The crop, coated with your saliva, smacks hard on your bum cheek, the wetness amplifying the pain. You squeal and jump involuntarily. But he doesn’t stop. Grabbing your hair, pushing you face first down to the rug, and pulling your hips up high, he reigns blow after blow onto your bottom as you cry out and drip down your shaking thighs, hands flexing in their bindings. He doesn't stop. Not until you enter a space where you just live for this and him, a creature of complete submission and unbridled lust.

When he finally kneels behind you, unbuttoning just enough to release his cock and drive into you, you are only capable of inhuman noises as you orgasm, rippling and clenching tight around him before he has so much as moved.

No taglist as these drabbles are short

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #queued post

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notroosterbradshaw · 1 year

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42. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed." With Rooster pleasee (to be honest.. would it be actually a problem?)😂

A/N: this is a bit of a dumpster fire. Every save has failed, so here you have it. I hope you enjoy it. okay, pal, I am going to raise you two tropes:

42. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed."

There was only one bed and

Enemies to... something. Not lovers, but something.

"Because of you... let me rattle this off because this is entirely your fault and I don’t want to miss anything, okay? Because of you, we; one - left late. Nearly two hours to remind you. Two - got the last bedroom. With one goddamn bed!”

Rooster Bradley was wild. And not in that cute, gee, he looks like a fun, cool guy way, but close to a rage blackout. Like he was so ticked off, the ridges of his ears were blushing pink as the rage seared from his strong, broad chest towards his thick neck, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His hands flexed as he tried to control his emotions that were just so out of check. No breathing techniques could save him now.

“I am not staying in here with you,” he seethed. You, on the other hand? Music to your ears! The trip to Tahoe was pure frigging torture, and you were still not sure how you were so unlucky to have to make the ten-hour drive with one of the people you actually despised and you both made it out alive.

The daily issue you had with each other in the air too.

"No sweat," you grinned, thrilled with this development. “Enjoy sleeping anywhere but here, pal,” you pat his muscular pecs and took a step into the room before slammed the door in his face joyously.

Later that night at the dinner table, you could feel Rooster burning a hole into the side of your head, still roasting from your earlier disagreement. Disagreements? Yeah, definitely plural. Not stopping your conversation with Bob, you relinquished your glass of red and said, “Hey Rooster, here’s another bird for you,” you gave him the one-finger salute. "Get over yourself."

The table was silent. You could hear a pin drop.

“More wine please, Mickey?” you asked, utterly refusing to give Rooster Bradshaw another moment of your time. Last you’d heard, he’d committed to either sleeping in his ridiculous car or on the couch. Fine by you, the King size bed was just perfect for little you.

"God, you're so goddamn petulant, I don't know how you managed to get through the ranks... or killed yourself. It's one of the two if I'm really honest."

"Sheer talent, agility and knowing it pisses you off," you raffled off and turned to face him, planting your chin in your palm and batting your eyelashes in his direction. "Gives me all the ammo I need."

"You're such a fuckin' liability," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Jesus, this escalated," Bob muttered to no one in particular.

"Shouldn't have let them drive together," Natasha sighed, putting her head in her hands.

"You know, Hangman, you are right," you said, ignoring your friends and looking at Jake as his eyes bulged.

"How am I getting dragged into this, sweet thing? I mean, I'm always right, but..." he asked, not really wanting to get in the middle of your and his wingman's quarrel. Especially since he was enjoying it so much. He preferred being a spectator in this bout.

"Like you told me on day one... Rooster's just sitting there on his perch and I do all the heavy lifting and saving his ass. Younger, faster, better - " you rattled off.

"Oh, you're so fuckin' outta line - " Rooster roared, standing as you grinned up at him.

"hey, hey, hey," Fanboy's chair screeched as he put a hand on Rooster's chest to remind him of his place.

"Tell me all about it, Bradshaw. Just get it out there and make your peace with the fact you don't like me and have gone out of your day since the beginning to try and stop each and every one of my promotions," you rested your chin in your hand and added a sweet bat of your lashes for good luck. You could see the smoke puff from his ears.

"I don't want to look but I can't look away," Coyote tried to bite back his grin but this had been bubbling under the surface for years. And he was going to witness it explode.

“This has to stop, guys,” Bob tried again.

"Peacemakin' ain't gonna work this time, Baby on Board. It's about time you let these two at it," Hangman sipped his beer but there was no denying that smirk that threatened.

“Look, I can swap with Rooster and bunk,” Natasha sighed, always the peacemaker. “I got a room to myself. You two cannot stay together tonight... or ever.”

A cause for a fight in itself, you dared ask, “How’d you keep that to yourself?”

She shrugged. “Frankly, just wanted to see how long it would be before one of you killed the other. It's clearly much closer than I thought,” she sipped her wine, whetting her lips. “I’ll stay with you," she tenderly pet your face, and felt the heat radiating under your skin. You were riotous and she could feel the fever of whatever it was that Rooster under your skin today. She gave you kudos, how you managed to stay to cool while Rooster erupted was commendable. But Natasha knew things about you the team didn't and that included what was hidden behind the ego.

“Think you can keep your hands to yourself?” you teased.

“I think I can hold it together,” she said as you both laughed.

“Just like the old days.”

You toasted each other.

“You’re off the hook, Bradshaw,” Natasha muttered, not bothering to look at him. “But we get the King.”

Rooster’s face lit up. “Phoenix, you’re on a one-way ticket to heaven.”

"I don't know why you guys just don't put up or front up," Hangman joined the party. "Could cut the sexual tension with a knife, if you ask me."

"No one asked you, Bagman," you and Rooster hissed loudly and Hangman actually shrunk in his chair. It didn't stop the smirks from the others at the table, trying to hide their mirth and Hangman knew... he wasn't on his own of this belief.

"I'm just sayin'," he tried as Coyote nodded beside him. Coyote wholeheartedly agreed. Put that sheer frustration with each other to good use: fly with it, fight with it, fuck with it. Two out of three ain't bad. But it could certainly be better.

"Knock it off, Jake..." Natasha told him. But she found it hard to argue with him. He was right, something had to give between you and for the sake of the team, a truce or ceasefire needed to be called somehow, someway. And it needed to be soon. She couldn't trust you to be on your best behaviour for Payback's wedding tomorrow and God knew she didn't want to have to send either of you to the naughty corner for not keeping your emotions in check with the other.

"And on that note," you pushed back your chair. "Goodnight," you said, standing and leaving before anyone could make an excuse to get you to stay.

"Jesus Christ Jake... could you just keep your trap closed this one time?" Mickey mumbled as you wandered away and you heard Jake laugh.

"Yep, it's just me that can't see right through them... ain't it, right Bradshaw?" Jake taunted his wingman. "Just put that frustration to use, brother."

"You know, Jake, you will never have to worry about me punching you in the fucking face, because I won't have to do it. They will," Rooster rolled his eyes and kept sipping his wine.

"You're gonna kill me," Natasha said a few hours later. "I think I had one glass of wine too many," she said, sitting on her bed, drifting a little. She was woozy, her tummy didn't feel great.

"You okay?" you sat up from your spot on the bed, watching her a little concerned. You grabbed her shoulder and tried to stop her from wobbling but she was pretty off-kilter.

"I don't feel so great," she admitted. "I think I'm a little nauseous."

"Oh, no. Can I get you something? Some water?" you started to get out of bed to help.

"No, I'm just going to freshen up in the en suite for a while. Cool water might help. A shower of something," she said, idly on her legs as she stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door after her. Settling back, you had never heard the sound of anyone being ill the way Natasha currently was.

"Oh, shit," you said, bouncing from the bed and going to the door to open it, but she'd locked it. "Natasha, can I come in?"

"No, don't come in here - " she said before interrupting herself to be sick again.

"Oh, wow," you said quietly to yourself. Okay, the helper in your kicked into gear, leaving Pheonix for the moment to go retrieve a bucket, some towels and anything else that might make her feel a bit better... or at least fend off the hangover for tomorrow.

Rooster was on the couch with Bob when they noticed you going through unfamiliar cupbarods.

"Whatcha need?" Bob asked.

"Your frontseater is vomiting all over a different kind of seat..." you muttered.

"Oh, no," Bob sighed. "Can I help you?"

"No, she's locked herself in the bathroom. She's pretty unwell," you continued searching. "Would anyone have packed any Pepto... or something to try and settle her stomach?"

Rooster groaned standing. "I've got a first aid kit in my car. Let me get it."

You bet if roles were reversed, and Natasha was looking for help for you, Rooster would not be volunteering and quietly thanked him anyway. He didn't bother to reply but came back a few minutes later with a small kit and told you to use whatever you need. "Thanks, Rooster," you said meekly. He nodded as he watched you disappear again.

This was not how the night was supposed to go. You were supposed to be up and gossiping with Natasha, not helping her shower her sick out of her hair and tossing her in your bed because she needed to be close to the room with the ensuite. Everyone had shuffled but it still left you in a pickle.

Well, not just you.

You and Rooster, who could swear he was seconds away from actually sleeping in his car. The threat was real.

“Just stay on your side for god’s sake,” you instructed, rolling to face the door.

“This may be the worst thing that has ever happened in the history of time,” Rooster muttered and you flipped back to him, aghast. “Aside from other stuff in my life that has been tragic…” he clarified, embarrassed.

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Just go to sleep,” he rolled his eyes and turned over himself. Within minutes he was snoring soundly. You picked up your pillow and without a doubt, lifted it over his face ready to just end this madness before thrusting it over your face instead and falling back against the bed.

He slept while you stared at the roof, finally giving in and putting your earphones in your ear to try and drone Rooster out. You were going to be a fright tomorrow. You knew you weren't going to sleep tonight.

Rooster was blissfully comfortable sleeping on his back but rolled just enough so that he was on your pillow and legs pressing against yours.

“You’re infuriating,” you tutted. “This bed is too small for both of us."

Sighing, Rooster was woken. "Jesus Christ, what time is it?"

"Dunno, you've been snoring for an hour or something."

“Well, if Phoenix wasn’t vomiting all over our old room with the ensuite, you would be in there together with all the space in the room and I’d be sleeping in here peacefully.”

“Touch me again and I’m pushing you off the bed.”

He snorted. “I’d surely like to see you try. Go to sleep, you fucking brat."

You heard the muttering before you could feel the tossing and turning. Rolling over and preparing yourself to let loose on him, you noticed Rooster was still asleep. He was restless, covered in sweat and the sheets tangled around him before he jolted up to sit, gasping. He took the dim room in, eyes darting around, trying to familiarise himself with his surroundings. “Where am I?” He asked desperately.

“We’re with the squad, it’s Payback’s wedding weekend in Tahoe,” you said softly.

"What?" you could sense that his brain didn't compute.

“You were having a bad dream, but you're okay. You’re safe. Try and breathe,” you instructed as his shoulders sagged and he tried to do what you asked. You explicitly knew this feeling and laid a gentle palm on his clammy shoulder. “Are you okay?” You asked softly. He stared at you, breathing deeply, putting his face in his hands. His PTSD was a good one, compounded by years of trauma.

You crawled a little closer to him and brushed back his wild curls.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” he didn't answer your question, he could barely meet your eyes. Shame washed over him, the last person he wanted to show this part of himself to was right next to him.

“No,” you lied. “Do you need anything? Can I get you some water?”

Pursing his lips, embarrassed, he looked at the glass on his bedside table and reached to take a sip. "I got it."

It was strange, but the muscles on his strong back still engaged and you gently moved and hug him carefully. You felt him stiffen not soften and you told him softly, “You’re okay Rooster. You’re safe here with me.”

“Thanks, huh?” He said softly, sighing, and kind of melting a little, his body's flight or fight reducing as he inhaled sharply.

“You get those kinds of dreams often?” you dared ask. When didn't reply, you told him that you did once in a while but found it hard to go to people and tell them because you were sure no one would understand, hoping to encourage him.

He shrugged, resting his cheek on your shoulder, hiding his eyes. “Sometimes."

You held him tighter. “Does anyone know?”

“No… just you," he admitted and you knew he hated telling you and if you wanted to hold that power over him.

“Okay. I’m not going to preach to you, you know the drill.”

“Yeah, I do. Thank you.”

“I’m always here if you need me, okay?”

He hummed and you knew you were the absolute last person Rooster Bradshaw would come to if he found himself in this situation again. “Sorry I woke you.”

“That’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t alone,” you gently pushed him back towards his pillows and shuffled over to snuggle up close.

“You’re a furnace,” he muttered.

“You should be so lucky. Am I too close?” You asked, wanting to protect him but also respect you were well and truly overstepping any boundaries you had before bedtime.

“It’s okay, it’s nice,” he admitted, rolling over and taking you with him, curling you into his back and you let out a surprised shriek as you moved with him. "Sorry... that okay?"

"Yeah," you told him. "That's okay," your small hand gripped his hip, drawing tender circles on the strong muscle. “Go back to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”

He yawned instinctively, and took your hand to lace with his fingers and draw your closer. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

You shuffled and released the arm you were laying on to drift up and down his back, the muscles and ridges tensing and relaxing to your touch and you'd swear, you heard him moan quietly. “Go to sleep,” you told him again, softly. “I’m right here, I won’t let anything happen to you, Bradshaw.”

Within a few minutes, you felt his breath change and he was asleep again deeply… but you couldn’t release your hand… and you didn’t want to either. Enjoying the peace his slumber brought and his gentle even breathing, it lulled you to sleep too.

Waking up the next morning, you found yourself still trapped against the warm body of Rooster, but this time he was facing you and it was his chest before you. His strong golden shoulders, muscular pegs, wide ribs, and incredible abs. Sure you weren't still asleep?

But he was awake, looking at you softly with his chin resting in his palm. “Good morning,” he said quietly. You couldn't get a read on him and that concern you.

“Hi,” you said, surprised you’d stayed so close overnight. It was unlike you, you appreciated your space and even when someone else was in your bed, encouraging your own space. “How are you feeling?” you bit back a yawn.

“Great actually,” he admitted. “Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to… you know. Be there for me,” he gently brushed some hair from your forehead and you knew you must have been a mess.

Not surprisingly, Bradley woke up like he just walked off a runway. He was so handsome and you think that was what you disliked most about him. “Anytime,” your body temperature rose in embarrassment and you shuffled back across the bed. He smiled as he watched you, he knew you were a little uncomfy with the closeness and he didn't blame you... he was the same only minutes earlier.

You felt impossibly under scrutiny under his fair gaze and you wondered if he knew how uneasy it made you feel when you were… clearly so fucking attracted to him. You’d take it to the grave, but Hangman was right. You felt something inexplicable and sharing this bed was only blurring those lines terribly.

“What time is it?” You gazed at the window. Still looked pretty early.

“5am.”

“Our body clocks are pathetic, we’re on a weekender,” you said dismally. You wanted to remember what a sleep-in felt like. You imagined in your previous lives you were really good at sleeping past sunrise but you knew as you watched the colours over Bradley's shoulders that the sun would be soon and bring a beautiful day with it by the lake.

He grinned, and it was the first time he ever smiled at you where it met his eyes, his divine honey-coloured orbs. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll go for a run and let you have some time alone,” he said, pushing himself from the bed and stretching. His body was glorious, but you couldn’t ogle him like this. He started sifting through this leather weekend bag, looking for his gym clothes and trainers.

“Rooster?”

“Yeah, kid?” He looked up expectedly as you pulled the duvet back up maintaining as much decency your nightshirt allowed. His eyes darted from your thighs to your face, and if you blinked, you'd have missed the way his tongue darted out and wet his lower lip.

“It’s your break too…” you rolled your back away from him and snuggled back into the pillow. You knew he was perplexed but when the bed gently rocked and he got back under the covers and snuggled up behind you, resting his calloused palm on your hip, he breathed, and you heard his lungs shake. The power in the room had changed and you were both confused, but this felt just right.

"You burn hot," he told you softly.

"I've been told," you smiled gently to yourself as he chuckled quietly, and adjusted his hand to rest flush against your belly, his cheek snuggled into your shoulder.

But you knew it implicitly: you wanted Bradley Bradshaw…

And you probably always had.

SEND ME A PROMPT, I’LL WRITE YOU A DRABBLE.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

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sizzlinbaconpeach · 6 months

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So my sister shared some of her fanfic with me which got my creative juices going again.

I did some sketches inspired by it. I also wrote a fun little scene as well, but my sister informed me that it's the wrong time of year and stuff. But I'll share it with you guys anyway.

This is supposed to be the first (or one of the first) missions that Chris and Jill are partnered on in their S.T.A.R.S. days. They're investigating a gang or something...

[Chris and Jill sitting in a car, down the street from the bar, getting ready to initiate their undercover operation] [Chris is dressed in casual clothes - leather jacket, jeans, and a t-shirt. Jill is wearing an oversized sweater with a short black skirt and boots.] [Chris is reviewing his notes as Jill makes her self ready, and removes her sweater] C: So he's been showing up consistently at 7:34pm [checking his watch] every night at the bar, usually with at least 2 other guys, but they always go outside -- [notices Jill's skimpy outfit] You're not going to wear your sweater? J: My mom always dressed like thi-- [seems embarrassed with what she was about to say] Uhh… yeah. I've gotta dress like I'm here for a good time, right? [gets out of car] C: [somewhat under his breath as he watches Jill move to the front of the car] For the bar, not the frigging swimming pool. [He climbs out and meets her at the front of the car] Okay, so it would be best for you to wait until his 2 friends go out for their smokes - they always wait for Fat Tony by the side door. I'll try to stall them for as long as I can, so you can chat up our dear slimy leader, Snake. J: [clicking her small purse closed after applying some lipstick] Roger that. C: [notices the goosebumps on her arms] Here. [Drapes his jacket around her] J: Don't you think it'll be a little hard for me to do some Snake charming if I'm wearing another man's jacket? C: Well, he's a biker dude, you'll earn his trust easier. But I'm sure you can get creative and make something up. J: [playing along] Oh this? [slips her arms through the sleeves] It was my dad's before he died in a tragic accident. C: [eye twitch] Huh… [turns his head away] J: [worried, trying to meet his eyes] What? You don't think that'll work? C: [looks back at her] Ooorr, maybe it was your ex-boyfriend's. That jacket doesn't look worn enough to be your dad's. J: [playfully] Oh right - my overly cocky boyfriend, who thought he was 'oh so cool' on his motorbike, terrorizing the town with his hooligan friends. Too bad his inflated ego killed him… C: [chuckles] Yeah, but I bet he was devilishly handsome, right? [runs a hand through his hair] J: [smiles as she pulls the jacket closed, retreating into its warmth, teasing] If not a little dorky sometimes. C: [smile drains from his face, pushes her towards the bar as she laughs] Yeah, yeah. Time to win your Oscar.

#valenfield #fanfic #im so lame...

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featherandferns · 11 months

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7 fluff maybe?

7. I made us friendship bracelets.

This is very short but very sweet. Prepare to gag.

Feel free to request! - Prompt list

Beads - prompt 7.

Summer days call for chilling out: sun-tanning and swimming and sipping.

John B lounges at the helm of the boat, drifting in and out of sleep. Pope sits, reading a book, whilst JJ swims around in the water to cool off. Every now and then he climbs back aboard just to backflip off, aiming to spray as much water as possible on John B, who grumbles out cusses in return. You, Kie and Sarah are sat around. Sarah’s helping to braid some beads into Kiara’s hair. Pink, yellow and blue. Inspired, you’d dug about in the hold and found some string, and had started looping through some beads, working on a nice pattern. It was something you did a lot as a kid but had outgrown, and right now, you couldn’t remember why.

Tapping your foot along to the beat of a Frank Ocean song, you work at tying off the second bracelet. You’re snapped out of your peaceful haze when JJ climbs back aboard, shaking his head like a wet dog, spraying you with water.

“Quit it, JayJ!” Kiara hollers.

JJ sniggers and drops down in the spot next to you.

“What are you doing?” he asks. He steals a sip of your cider.

“I made us friendship bracelets,” you say with a smile, holding two up.

He grins down at you. “You’re too frigging cute sometimes.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, I second that: shut up,” Kiara says.

“Save the foreplay for at home, guys,” John B feels the need to chime in.

You and JJ ignore their joking. He meddles with the beaded bracelets already on his wrist until there’s space for yours, and you slide one on. He watches as you slip yours on too.

“Fit okay?”

“Think so,” he nods, shaking his wrist out to inspect it.

The two of you have identical colour palettes but in alternating patterns. As yours goes green, blue, yellow, his goes blue, yellow, green.

You look down at the beads and debate making more, so everyone has one, but then you decide not to. It’s nice, having it just something for yourself and JJ. As if hearing this thought process, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll never take it off,” he quietly says, so only you hear.

You flash him a smile, somewhat sappy in the moment.

“You two either get a room or get in the water so I don’t have to look at you,” John B says, propping himself up to point at the two of you. He says it as if him and Sarah don’t dote on each other openly all the time, churning up vomit in your throat at the sight.

JJ simply grins and shoots up, tackling his best friend into the water, making you laugh. You turn back to the girls and fall into the conversation Sarah’s started up about hair styles. The day slowly melts away like strawberry ice cream in the sun. But JJ keeps his word. From there on, amongst his muted coloured bead bracelets is a cheerful, bright plastic-bead one. If anybody asks where he got it from, he proudly tells them ‘my girlfriend’.

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx #outer banks #obx fic #jj maybank fic #jj x reader drabble #jj drabble #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank x reader drabble #obx drabbles #outer banks drabbles #drabbles #drabble #prompts #7

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nerdasaurus1200 · 2 months

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It’s so frigging cute how they play piano together.

And also a really cool little detail that I love; Varian being the first to join Rapunzel in her song in any capacity. Through playing the piano with her he silently supports her

#tts #rta #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #nerd talks #rapunzel #varian

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manny-hughes · 11 months

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Nerm what the frig

I know I keep doing full body sketches of BBH but BLEHHHHHHHH! Making this his cannon QSMP outfit in my eyes because it’s just so much nicer on him, it’s like he’s the pink power ranger.

ALSO In my mind BBH is an imp and not a demon because they’re more mischievous in nature than evil (as seen with Bad being just a general nuisance but also the most charitable being known to man), which also is why I think he just stole a Reaper’s things and DECIDED to be a reaper because it was cool. I think that also explains why he doesn’t want anyone to know it’s him in the outfit — especially with people like Phil and Missa on the island.

#fanart #my art #qsmp #qsmp fanart #qsmp badboyhalo #badboyhalo fanart #badboyhalo #qsmp philza #qsmp missa

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pink-key · 4 months

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Old 2015 version

A young man was sitting on a concrete block, lacing up his rollerblades. His hands were shaking with excitement. He had been thinking about this upcoming moment for several years. Tightening the tongue of his skate, he stood up and rolled forward slightly. He looked around. The building he was in was once supposed to be a small shopping center, but the company went bankrupt and left the building in an unfinished state. This place had been his refuge ever since.

His appearance was not remarkable: disheveled long black hair and always tired gray eyes with an eternal, distant look. He was wearing an old, tattered sweatshirt and dark pants, in which some small holes were already visible, undoubtedly the result of street fights.

Taking the claw hammer, he swung it a couple of times and quietly muttered, barely smiling, "Everything should go perfectly; it would be a shame to end up in that damned hospital with a broken leg again."

At a young age, he was hit by a car, resulting in hospitalization. At that time, there were many war veterans there. Every day, he heard their groans, cries of agony, and curses when they realized that their limbs could not be saved. This moment stuck in his subconscious; he felt a certain detachment from reality, his consciousness slowly peeling away from his brain. At least that's how he described it to his overprotective mother. Like any mother, she was worried about her son, but she did not consider therapists and psychologists to be real doctors and treated his mental health in her own way. She worked as a court assistant lawyer and often brought pictures from her work. These were photographs of crime scenes, and she thought that by showing them to her son, the boy would not consider blood or corpses, for that matter, as something scary. She was always too close for his comfort.

Ruffling his hair sharply with his free hand, he shook his head. He didn't want these memories to ruin his night. He glanced at his belongings lying on a nearby cement block. A shabby backpack, a couple of trinkets and his old hockey stick. He grinned, taking the hockey stick and putting it in the case on his back that wrapped around his torso. He glanced at his watch. 2:34, time to act. Leaving the abandoned building, he skated on a deserted road.

With every second, emotions of immense joy filled him more and more, although he had not even reached his goal yet. He had not felt such bursting emotions for a long time; they were comparable to those he felt when he learned to roller-skate.

He considered skates an extension of himself and felt awkward not wearing them. After all, he could run away or catch up with anyone when he was wearing them. He especially enjoyed it when he skated away from a salesman after stealing a sandwich or chips from him. His friends praised him for his agility and speed. However, they were hooligans and often fought and abused stray animals. He didn't spend much time with them; he believed that animals should not be tortured. All human beings, even children, are born spoiled and prone to cruelty, while animals do not have human thoughts and a thirst for sadism. He was so obsessed with this philosophy that the smell of cooked meat started to make him vomit.

A girl appeared on the horizon. No older than 25, she wore a short dress that barely covered her bottom. She stared at her phone, typing something on it. She didn't care about the slightly cool wind or the completely empty road on which she stood. He was looking for her.

He leaned a little, gaining speed, and squeezed the hammer in his hand while whistling a simple classic tune.

"Hey, Oli-dolly! You're not a man? Why are you refusing meat? Should I knock the crap out of you? Frigging princess, all polite, quiet, well-mannered. You fight like a girl too." Words ringed in his head. If he was provoked, he had no brakes; he was ready to fight to the death. That moment in the past was no exception either. The long refusal of food made him more sullen, any bullying addressed to him angered him more easily than usual; when he grappled with the leader of their gang, he couldn't restrain himself and, out of hatred, bit off part of his opponent's cheek. In that instance, he realized how to live, everything seemed to fall into place for him, as if with the snap of fingers. Undoubtedly, all people are corrupt, but there are those who do not even try to pretend to be correct and give themselves over to their pleasures and sadistic inclinations. What if there was a way to erase them from existence completely? After all, their soul cannot exist outside their flesh, just burying the corpse won't be enough.

A dull sound echoed down the street. The girl fell to the ground. There was a pause as Oli slowly lowered his arm after the blow. He thought he would behave like the killers from the films, laugh loudly, shake with happiness, and burst into loud speeches. Yet he stood quietly, watching his victim, a slight shiver of adrenaline running through his body. Blood dripped down her silky blonde hair. She raised her head, looking in disbelief and horror at the teenager in front of her.

"O-oli?! Why... why did you do that?"

Tears poured out of her eyes. Not waiting for an answer, she got up, wobbling, and rushed in the opposite direction from him. He skated smoothly behind her, wondering how long she could run with a smashed head. She could not scream out words from the stupor of fear. However, when she gained strength, seeing the light in the windows of a house in the distance, Oli took out his hockey stick and knocked the girl down with it. She fell, face on the ground.

He hit the girl on the back with his weapon, so she couldn't make any more loud sounds. The man moved in front of her face, waiting for her to lift her bloody head up.

Sofia didn't do anything bad to him. She was very close to him, playing the role of an older sister to him and other street children in their area. Occasionally, she made snarky, playful remarks to them when they engaged in various hooliganism. However, Oli always considered her useless. She was from a dysfunctional family, of no use to anyone, bringing nothing to society. Only a rich family man wanted her body. No one will remember her or miss her. Therefore, he chose her as his first project, a kind of realization of his philosophy; it became his passion and meaning, without which he could not live. --

"Did you guys hear? That maniac, Hitblade, killed someone again. Like, the quiet one from sociology, Rebecca or Raven was it." An anxious brown-haired girl sat down at the table where four of her classmates were having lunch.

"They haven't caught him yet? How hard is it to catch a cannibal on roller skates? Our police are completely slacking." Her red-haired classmate sitting opposite her answered displeasedly.

"I recently heard from a youtuber he ended up beating and eating his mother when he was a teen, even lived with her corpse for months, but these are just speculations, and these crimes are stated to not be related. Eh, don't worry, you look too young to be his next target." the third talkative classmate whispered, sneering awkwardly.

"Ahem, guys, I'm scared you know, I work the evening shift, what if he kills me?" The brunette muttered anxiously.

"Yes, I'm worried about you, Miriam. Oh, I have an idea! What if I accompany you after work to your home? I will be passing by there anyway, need to return a book to a friend." The black-haired guy said with notes of concern in his voice, moving his laptop away.

"You know, it's a good idea. He never attacks girls who're with someone. I finish at 22:00 you know the place." she said calming down.

"Of course." He answered with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Oli!"

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marimeeko · 6 months

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Just for fun I ran to my desktop to aid me with Google translate, which isn't perfect. But given that I don't know Japanese myself....

Here's what I found; on my own, with only translate and my existing language skills.

This is wrong:

This is CLOSER, AND MORE INDICATED OF THE CORRECT SUBJECTS OF THE SENTANCE. :

While it isn't one to one, Japanese has a lot of feel and implication, from what I understand. There's a lot of context.

So I tried scanning the fan translations a few times just to see what it said on my own. I broke it down into parts:

AITSU: him, that guy (in this case, Izuku)

The "Nuguenee" part seems to mean "can't wipe it" or "to wipe away"

Kocchi- here

De nuguu - means something like 'take off with "

Eventually, I felt like it wasn't scanning off the screen well enough, and I actually WROTE THE KANJI in the translation of the panel out on paper, which was very interesting bc again, don't know or write Japanese.

But I scanned that:

(The word "if" is covered by the icon)

"IF YOU CANT WIPE IT OFF

I WILL WIPE IT HERE"

Shows that the verbiage used is "wipe," or "to wipe away," but it is SO MUCH CLOSER in spirit to "I'll step in for what he can't handle" and also the use of Aitsu indicated he is talking directly about Izuku.

I GET that the official translator's job is to try to capture the dialogue in a way that FLOWS for the new audience, since Japanese is a very differently constructed language than English.

They are supposed to find a way to translate certain things with keeping the mood and intent of the dialogue.

"OFA couldn't keep you in the ground, but we'll finish the job and then some"???

Where the hell did they get that???

I didn't dig any further back bc it might take a while but everyone has also pointed out that the original dialogue is a direct reference to the apology scene(I know it is in the fan translation but I think it is also being indicated that it is the same in Japanese as well? Pls fact check me of you desire)

So bc it was originally referring back to that scene, there is an added STING that comes with this official translation

And the ADDITIONAL BLOW that is katsuki once again being kind of...pigeon holed into the aggressive, more self-focused kid that he once was...a caricature of his former self, instead of his emotionally upgraded, self assured, "needing to help Izuku or he will perish" self.....instead of letting this moment be a crazy cool declaration about how HE is the one you fuck with when Izuku needs help.

Which like yeah, in itself is a little bit agrandizing, HOWEVER it is literally also serving as a vow or a completion of his vow earlier in the story that he will take on what he can't handle!

It's super important for Katsukis arc! It acted as not only a THREAT to anyone who give Izuku a run for his money and tests the limits of his OFA, but a VOW to Izuku that HE HAS HIS BACK.

He just YELLED ABOUT IT on a battlefield, while Izuku is probably still staring at him with heart eyes.

And ultimately, there is NO REASON THE ORIGNAL TRANSLATION, WHICH PLAYS OFF THE OFFICIAL TRANSLATION OF THE APOLOGY SCENE CANNOT BE USED OFFICIALLY.

It reads properly, and packs a HELL OF A PUNCH EMOTIONALLY. More so than essentially "I'm gonna put you in the ground bc Izuku CAN'T"

It seems like the fan translation kept the literal meaning but added the flavor to make it flow, such as "stepping in" "to handle" and calling Izuku a Nerd. But the official translation just tweaked it by too much to where it just reads differently and most importantly, doesn't carry that punch.

In conclusion, I did a little bit of independent research and decided that YEAH it doesn't make sense why they translated it so wildly different. Other than just wanting Bakugou to remain a frigging caricature, even in the Finale.

#bnha spoilers #which i mean at least they used the word we for putting him in the ground??#maybe sorta implying that he and deku are gonna work together but dammit #this is again based on my shallow knowledge on foreign language reading #of which i do not know japanese #so huge disclaimer #BUT IT LOOKS LIKE I CAME TO THE SAME CONCLUSIONS AS THE FAN TRANSLATORS #bakudeku #caleb critical #i dont usually come for caleb but idk this one got me a bit apicy #its just cus i dont know japanese myself #but like when i can put it into GOOGLE TRANSLATION AND GET SOMETHING DIFFERENT #just let katsuki Bakugou have his undying devotion and get to shout about it okkkk #bakugou katsuki #i hear its usually bakugou getting shafted by translation #basically stop making Bakugou a violent trash mouthed caricature #when he has his huge moments LET HIM HAVE THEM #let him have his emotions

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hime-bee · 5 months

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Wait! He likes Sailor Moon AND Horror Movies??? So he's tall, rediculously pretty, including his eyes, shy, sweet as a strawberry, a frigging florist and likes horror movies and sailor Moon while also still being completely unhinged secretly??? Ahhh *swoons and clutches heart* That's a man after my own heart!

<///< *Ahem* Sorry. ^\\\^;;

I have a question though! If he likes horror movies then by any chance would he like Silent Hill? I know it's;;;not the most popular horror movie but it's been my favourite ever since I discovered it at 16. To the shock of my mother. S-so..*Fidgets with fingers* W-would Leu-I-I mean Leumin like the movie too?

Don't fall for him too hard, friend!! (You won't be able to get rid of him then 👀) But I'm glad to hear you like Leu very much 😌💗

And to answer your question: I think he would love Silent Hill! Specifically the games, but I think he'd also enjoy the movies, mostly because he would find Pyramid Head's design to be super cool. He would also be interested in the concept of Silent Hill manifesting a person's deepest fears, desires, etc! (He's a bit of a theorist)

Leu would love to watch it with you and toss theories back and forth, if you don't mind him ranting a bit! 😊 He's a sucker for good horror

#if you have movie recommendations for him he'll watch it #especially if it's one of your favorites #Leumin Holiday #inclement idée fixe #yandere #male yandere

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happyk44 · 9 months

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Re: my tags on that last post (basically saying that I'm pretty sure Rick made up the whole Romans feared Neptune thing, because there isn't any proof of that I can find), it doesn't really make sense to have done that because there's no real split in the books between the romans and the greeks. not to mention we don't actually have a child of neptune to use as a reference point in the books of neptune's behaviour. we just have a vague anecdote about a kid 100 years before that caused an earthquake.

cool. so like. none of the other demigods have ever caused a major problem. just that one kid? alright.

the thing is: greek gods and roman gods are different. yes, they're conflated, but a lot of gods are conflated with one another. that's how hermanubis came into being. that's how neptune became the god of the sea - initially he was just the god of fresh water, then he got kind of merged with poseidon, and wound up in charge of the salty sea and probably came out of that deal, like what the fuck, i can't drink this??

also if you look at any greek god's wikipedia page or other informational website, you will see something like "their norse equivalent was X, their indo-european equivalent was Y, their etruscan equivalent was Z) and so on. i'm pretty sure this is common on the pages of some members of other pantheons, i just don't feel like checking right now.

everyone steals and shares. it's kind of just what happens.

but back to greco-roman and pjo nonsense. greek and roman gods are different gods. but in the books, they're considered to be the same, just different fonts, where the greeks are more easygoing solo artists, and the romans are war-faring teammates, fancy cursive versus clear print. part of the series insists that the two are somehow different, but there's very little split in tone when it comes to characterization. part of this is because we do not see children of the same god paired against one another. the exception to this is hazel and nico, and briefly thalia and jason.

there's little to no difference between hazel and nico. other than hazel being better at money, and nico being better at dead people. hazel does not come off as more militaristic compared to nico. if anything, nico seems more strict and stringent than she does. you could argue that's because of trauma, but then arguably, they should be the same on that level.

if you wanted to label a difference between "oh this is clearly a child of pluto and this is clearly a child of hades", then hazel's curse shouldn't have been a thing. it should've been "all children of pluto can do this, but children of hades cannot/have a harder time with it" (which is what i headcanon anyway). additionally hazel could've been the one capable of doing geokinesis, not nico, but unfortuantely we'd already seem do it a bunch in the prior series, so that never would've worked out.

there's no real difference between thalia and jason either. we never get an internal monologue from thalia, so we can't see how her thoughts might differ from jason. but they are both children of zeus/jupiter who were pushed into leadership positions (thalia as head of the hunters, jason as leader of the fifth cohort). they both utilize lightning powers, they both are good fighters (but considered less good than percy). thalia fights with a spear, one of ivlvis's forms was a lance (which is a type of spear). i mean fucking hell, part of jason's training under the wolf house is making the journey from the house to camp jupiter on his own and frigging thalia had to do that too.

i've also already talked about the different explorations of zeus/jupiter's abilities as a god of law and order - so like if you wanted to show contrast between romans and greeks - enough to prove that they were ACTUALLY having issues maintaining a specific identity - then there could've been more emphasis on jason as a figure of law and order, especially due to rome's very high placement of jupiter (and juno).

conceptually, however, there is no difference between the two of them, just as there isn't much difference between hazel and nico, aside from personality. and we are never exposed to any other other demigods at either camp enough to see how they differ from their counterparts.

percy wasn't even at camp jupiter long enough for the whole "children of neptune are a threat because romans fear the sea" thing to be worth anything useful. and like?? did it ever come up again in any of the other books? did it ever have a fucking point?

i would've understood it more if he had actually pulled it from real history. but the romans did, in fact, have a navy and utilized it as part of building their empire. there's legit a wikipedia article labeled "roman navy". so this narrative that they despise neptune because they hated the ocean and didn't sail is really odd! like yeah, the navy wasn't as important to them as the army, but it's not like it was written off entirely! it couldn't have been. part of the roman empire was in the frigging mediterrean.

and to stop from going on about that, part of my takeaway from the books was that the camps ended up understanding that there was no real difference between the two of them, finally joining together in peace and harmony and blah blah blah

(which, then, why the two camps just didn't fucking merge after that, i will never understand, like i definitely thought that's where the series was headed, sort of like a hey, if you're living on the west coast come here and if you live on the east coast come here and if you're in the middle then, fucking i dunno, eat some grass)

but!! if rick wanted the "neptune is greatly feared" thing to have an effect, it would've a) made more sense had he actually shown neptune in the books and made us understand WHY the romans feared him, b) given us a child of neptune to round out the other two and provide a contrast to Percy, and c) actually given us some decent contrast between the two camps/gods! i mean even with ares and mars arguing, there was little between the dialogue to indicate "these are people with different priorities". it was just blood, murder, kill everyone! like, come on,

now - if the series had been written in mind with the two pantheons being written as completely separate entities - and the romans' dislike of the greeks was due to the modern day conflation of "oh roman gods are just greek gods, there's nothing special about them" that would've been pretty interesting as a dilemma. it also would've been cool because rather than roman vs greek battle being written like the same entity technically trying to fight itself, it would've been a historical throwback of "hey remember when ancient rome took over ancient greece"

anyway i am done rambling, back to my thoughts about that daughter of neptune i definitely do not want to write a fic about

(also re the gods having issues trying to keep a single identity down: why the hell was frank the one who had gods arguing in his head? i know i've complained about this before, but frank wasn't having identity issues - jason was. if anyone should've had the greek vs roman versions of their parent fighting in their head, it should've been him)

#happy talks pjo #half of this was writing while researching the roman navy lmao #hence why i had to cut myself short otherwise i was gonna end up regurgitating all the information i just consumed #daughters of neptune

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legolasghosty · 2 months

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your rarepairiest pair: Is this a mid-life crisis because if it is I'm a bit worried about your lifespan.

Oh gosh yes please! I will take any and every excuse to write JuBobby! (Also I think I accidentally set this in my Jem and the Holograms AU... whoops! Oh well, I think it makes sense still without context.)

Bobby generally considers his girlfriend a levelheaded person. Sure, she's done some crazy stuff (See the history of how they even met in the first place), but in general, Julie thinks things through before she does them. And that's probably a good thing, considering the insanity of at least half of her brothers/band.

But even for the most even-keeled individual, fame does weird stuff. So when Julie gets back after what was supposed to be a casual family dinner (no significant others allowed on the first night of the visit to give Julie and her brothers a chance to catch up with Ray, Victoria, and Carlos), crashes onto Bobby's bed, and says, "I'm going to get a yacht," Bobby isn't entirely sure how to react.

He hits the save key on his computer and rises from his desk. "Is this a mid-life crisis?" he asks slowly, approaching his girlfriend and sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. "Cause if so, I'm a little worried about your lifespan. I don't want to outlive you by that much, Molina."

Julie groans and rolls onto her side to look at him. "People can't recognize me on a boat," she states, voice flat.

Bobby winces, suddenly understanding. He'd turned off most of his notifications while he was working, which is probably how he missed whatever pictures have made it online of Julie and her brothers just trying to spend time with their family. He reaches out to run his fingers gently over her arm, offering what comfort he can.

"We didn't even have our food yet before someone came to ask for an autograph," Julie sighs, wriggling a little closer to him. "And then the waiters were staring, and...sometimes I wonder why I told the world my real name."

Bobby hums softly and lays down on his side, pulling her into his chest. "I'm sorry, Ju." This sort of thing has been happening more and more over the past nine months since Julie took to the stage as Dahlia and the crowd was chanting her real first name by the time she and her brothers finished the show.

"So I'm gonna get a frigging boat so I can hang out with my family without getting interrupted," Julie huffs, curling into his embrace, letting his cool hands smooth out the rough heat racing through her body from all the unwanted stares.

"I mean, I know it doesn't really solve the actual problem," Bobby begins, resting his chin against her hair, "but you could just bring them here if you wanted. Get some fancy takeout and just stay in together."

"I wouldn't want to kick you out of your own house though," Julie protests, looking up at him. "I mean, I know the guys and I live here too, but it's your home too. You shouldn't lose your safe space just because my family is in town."

Bobby forces down a joke about being used to it from how things were with Caleb up until a year ago. His therapist says that's not healthy, to downplay it like that. "I don't mind," he promises instead. "They're important to you. So, important to me. I can stay out of your way no problem as long as no one ends up in my room."

Julie cracks a tiny smirk. "Awww, so no sleepovers while they're here?" she teases.

Bobby chuckles and shrugs as best he can without loosening his grip on her. "I suppose something could be arranged," he responds. "You know, if the situation were desperate enough."

"So... you last maybe one night without me," Julie snarks.

"Hey, you leave my insomnia out of this," Bobby complains lightly, unable to resist the slow grin spreading across his face. "I managed just fine before we met."

"Lies," Julie retorts, pushing herself up on one elbow so she's above him.

"Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do about it?" Bobby challenges.

"Go sleep in my amazing bazillion thread sheeted bed in my room by myself," she answers, smirking. "We'll see just how well you sleep by yourself."

Bobby raises an eyebrow. "I don't see you moving."

"Hey I got accosted by twelve-year-olds today, I'm not moving very fast," Julie says.

Hah, Bobby thinks. An opening. He reaches out and grabs an edge of his bedspread, flipping them over and pinning her down with the blanket and his body. "Well then you're not going anywhere," he teases.

"Oh no, woe is me," Julie laughs as she fumbles one arm free to cup the back of his neck. "I shall never escape."

"Nope, mine now," Bobby agrees before giving into her gentle tugging and leaning down to kiss her. "I'm serious though," he adds, pulling back a hair after a moment. "Just bring your family here. I know it's not ideal, but we can make it feel just as fancy as those stupid restaurants downtown. And here you can just be you."

"You're amazing," Julie says. "Think we can make it happen for everybody dinner tomorrow night?"

"Caleb has an impressive wine cellar," Bobby promises. "And he owes me and Willie and Carrie like... a lot."

"You know I'm technically underaged, right?" Julie jokes.

"Well, rockstars are allowed to do fun stuff sometimes," Bobby responds, leaning down to kiss her again. They'd figure it out, one way or another.

#legolas tag #julie and the phantoms #legolas ask #jatp #jatp fanfic #julie molina #bobby shaw #jubobby #jem and the holograms au #look they're just cute okay!

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