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ff-killjam · 3 days

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How The Tables Turned [Ford x reader oneshot]

Summary: This time, its Ford making you stop what you're going to make sure you get sleep.

Rating: SFW and very fluffy

Warnings: Aside from a slightly suggestive part, none!

AO3 version

A/N: Actually based on a period of time where I tried to learn how to use unity (before the whole drama of it happened). I refused to do ANYTHING but to work on my little project no matter how much I was starving for a few weeks straight. lol.

It’s basically routine at this point for you to drag Ford out of his lab to head for bed. Even if you remind him of the benefits on sleeping and how the lack of it will impact his work, you still needed to get him into bed, sometimes having some food ready for him to make sure he didn’t sleep on an empty stomach.

That’s how its USUALLY IS.

Lately, you’ve started your own personal project involving learning a game engine to play around with. It was mostly just a random idea one day, wanting to try your hand at making your own little “video game”. Nothing too fancy, just something fun to put together and to learn some new skills along the way. There was A LOT you needed to look into and learn to make this happen, however.

From learning a coding language, the game engine itself, a mix between finding free to use assets and even making your own when nothing suited your taste- you had a lot on your plate. It wasn’t all that bad really, considering how this whole thing turned into a full blown hyper fixation fairly soon after starting it. It was easy to let the hours fly by as you were split between watching tutorial videos, drawing and fixing any errors/bugs in any of the codes you wrote down. You were aware of when you needed to sleep, eat and do other things for your health, but something about working on this project made you refuse to move from your chair. And you weren’t the only one to noticed this.

After a decent amount of time being with you, Ford has grown used to the routine of you coming to his lab to check up on him. It got to the point where he purposely stayed late in the lab to get you to come in and “pester” him to take care of himself better. The feeling of knowing you cared and loved him so much to go out of your way to make sure he knew that was something he relished in. Of course, he did felt a little “silly” and “immature” doing this instead of straight up telling you, but there was no harm being done anyways, so it was fine.

So when you stopped checking on him after a few nights, he couldn’t help but to worry a bit. At first, he figured you were just a bit busy, possibly even out for the night, so he didn’t think too much of it. However, when walking into your computer room and seeing you up staring at your screen with an open notebook with various random things written on it, he couldn’t help to smile a bit as you reminded him of his university days. You were just working on something, nothing too bad.

But as time passed by, he soon realizes he only ever sees you in your computer room. You barely went out for anything, even for food. Ford didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but he was worried. Things escalated for him when he barely sees you in bed anymore.

It’s not like he didn’t talk to you as you were deep in your work. He would sometimes check in on you when things felt a little too quite after he started to noticed your absent in his lab. Ford was happy you were able to pursue something new and to take the time and effort to do it. He was aware of the little game you wanted to make for the sake of saying “I made this!”. When he had the free time, he’ll listen to you talk about the things you learned, some of the issues you faced and how you fixed them, etc etc. But he can only take so much before he had to really step in for your own sake.

The sky was dark out, and it was around 1am. You weren’t in bed yet. Again. Ford was really concerned for you now. Walking through the dim hallway, he opens up the door of your computer room. He can see you fully concentrated on your screen, looking over some codes you put together, as if you were trying to find any errors in the lines of text that was presented in front of you. It was obvious how dry your eyes were, how your body longed for rest, but the urge to keep going and to fix this one mistake kept you from wanting to sleep despite how much you felt the need to do so.

It was almost funny to him. A taste of his own medicine some would say. It reminds him of the many nights on how he too would refuse to stop for the night, always needing to do one more thing before he could let himself rest. How you would do your best to persuade him to let himself walk away from his work, to take care of himself to avoid any health complications, and to spend time with you in the comfort of your bed.

It made him feel guilty as well. The things you did for him and how much you loved him to always go out of your way to show it. Ford knew he was taking full advantage of that, and he wanted to repay it back.

You jumped a little in your seat when you felt his familiar six finger hand land on your shoulder, being so focused on the lines of text on your screen that you forgot where you were for a good bit. You look over at Ford as he stood beside your seat, giving him a weak smile.

“Oh hey! Do you need anything?” You asked before quickly looking back at the screen again.

“Love, when was the last time you ate?” Ford asked you in a gentle voice.

“Uh… I had breakfast?” You answered, only remembering you had some toast with a sunny side egg on top when you last ate. It didn’t seem like it mattered too much though.

“Its almost one am” Ford replied, a little stern this time. You quickly check the clock on your taskbar, feeling surprised from how much time had passed.

“Oh… oops” you spoke mostly to yourself, feeling a little silly for not checking the time more often. “I’ll probably head to bed soon”

“Not soon,” Ford points out, “you’re going to bed now.” His words made you look at him again, confusion viable on your face.

“Just let me do this one fix-” Ford says your name, stern voice again, causing you to stop your sentence.

“You are fully aware of the effects of not taking care of yourself” Ford spoke to you with a smirk on his face. You knew that he was referencing the many of times where you brought out the facts of how the lack of sleep and self care can affect your health and day to day life. It was the best way to convince him to come to bed and let you cuddle with him until you were both asleep. “You’re no different form me, sweetheart. Got to practice what they preach, as they say”

“Uh…. I’m built different?” You gave a half shrug and a low chuckle at your own joke. Obviously, this did nothing to change his mind. You knew he was right, and had nothing to say to argue back. Ford knew this too. “Fine… let me quickly save and shut off my computer…”

Ford watches you quickly save any progress before shutting off your computer, the light of the screen turning off and making the room dark as it was the only thing on. As you start to stand, your body fully conveyed how tired you really were. You were about to walk to the hallway door before Ford lets out a ‘let me’, and you were now being picked up bridle style in his arms. You let out a small gasp, often forgetting how much muscle the older man has as he often hides it away in his iconic turtleneck. The comfort of him holding you made the realization at your own exhaustion hit hard. You can feel yourself somewhat go limp as Ford carried you to your shared room.

Ford felt you quickly relax in his arms, feeling prideful as he carried you to your bed. Sitting you on the side and pulling the blanket back. He lays you on your pillow before fallowing suit into his usual spot on the bed beside you. Your eyes were shut as you let yourself sink into the soft mattress, the weight of the blanket being pulled over you giving a sense of security, along with how his arms wrapped around you to pull you close to his chest. You let out a sigh of relief as you feel him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, getting a few shivers down your spine.

“Sorry…” You mumbled to him, feeling guilty now for making him go out of his way to get you to bed. You feel him chuckle into your skin, the smile forming on his face being easily felt on your skin.

“Nothing to be sorry about sweetheart,” his replied, voice audibly sounding more tired, “I should be the one to apologize, making you go through this almost every night. I see how doing this almost all the time can be a bit frustrating for you.”

“Not if its you,” You were quickly to reply, “I’m always happy to make sure you’re okay”. Ford felt his heart flutter at your words. You always did surprised him with how much you loved him despite how many times you pointed it out.

“The feeling is mutual,” Ford placed a kiss on your skin as he caressed one of his thumbs that rested on you, “lets get to sleep now, I’ll be sure to do something for you in the morning” Ford gave another kiss on your skin, and you can’t help but to feel excited for what he had planned.

Silence followed as you two let yourselves slowly fall asleep in each others comfort. Feeling his steady heartbeat on your back lulled you to your sleep.

Ford smiled when he realized you fell asleep before he did. It was no surprise, you needed it really bad. Without fail every night when he has you in his arms like this, he feels like the luckiest man in the multiverse. He didn’t deserve you, but it was almost as if this is the repayment he deserved after many years of suffering, a way of life saying sorry to him.

And he wouldn’t ask for anything else.

#Gravity Falls x reader #Ford pines x reader #stanford x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #one shot #fluff #Killjam's fic tag

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gabrielleragusi · 2 days

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For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies

Hi there! I’ve been wanting to compile a list of commission platforms that I’ve personally used for the longest time, and I finally did it! I’ve highlighted the still-active commission platforms in bold and struck those that don't exist anymore so you can jump to the sections that interest you without needing to read my entire story.

Let me start by briefly introducing myself.

I’m Gabrielle, a fantasy illustrator. Since 2014, I’ve been working on book covers and illustrations for publishers, authors, and book subscription boxes. Early on, work wasn’t as frequent as it is now. I had to search for opportunities myself, and even small private commissions were important for building my portfolio and earning some money, which I’d spend on materials, books, and online courses. Like many other artists, I started out by trying my luck with the biggest art community available at the time.

DeviantArt

2009-2018

Once upon a time, there was a virtual haven called DeviantArt. To my teenage self, it was a magical place. I signed up in 2009 and thought I’d never leave!

At first, I created an account just to share my work and learn. I didn’t even think about commissions for four or five years. But when that first inquiry finally landed in my inbox, things took off! My mum swears she remembers my excitement when I got my first commission, but for some reason, I’ve completely forgotten about it. I can't remember what it was or how much it paid. It might have been a portrait of a fantasy character.

Commissions on DeviantArt were fairly frequent, especially considering my cheap prices at the time. I used to offer discounts and post my rates in my DeviantArt journal, or in Commission groups that featured artists either monthly or weekly. After checking out my profile, a client could simply send me a private message and from there, we’d discuss payment, deadlines, and other details, and the platform didn’t take any fees, much like how ArtStation works today. Everything happened through private messages or email, with direct contact between artist and client.

The downside of this process was that there was no dispute resolution system on the platform. I had to handle all issues myself, and unfortunately, problems did arise sometimes: there were clients changing their minds about commissions, asking for refunds after work was delivered, refusing to pay, or just ghosting me. These issues didn’t happen because clients were evil, but rather because I was inexperienced and allowed some to take advantage of my naivety.

However, all that frustration helped me develop my commission process through trial and error (mostly error). And despite the challenges, I can say with satisfaction that most of the commissions I received through my DeviantArt profile were positive experiences.

DeviantArt eventually introduced a commission feature for Core (Premium) users, which came with a platform fee, but I didn’t use it much, and I’m not sure if it still exists.

The real beauty of dA, though, was the connections I made. I was able to meet people, both artists and clients, that I’m still in contact with today, and some of whom I still collaborate with.

I closed my account in 2018 or 2019, but by that time, I hadn’t really used it for a couple of years. The new user interface was a bit of a turn-off for me. I had always loved the geeky, and dare I say cozy, look of the old green and grey aesthetic, with its customisable panels that you could move around and personalise with HTML code... But I digress.

Artists and Clients

2013-2016

While taking small commissions on DeviantArt, I discovered Artists & Clients. It was a nice platform for clients to get things like their D&D characters or groups illustrated for relatively cheap. I think my highest price was $50 for a single character portrait, with the platform taking a 15% cut. I used it for about two or three years before the platform started to change.

As more artists with hentai art styles flooded in, the homepage shifted, and so did the clientele. There’s nothing wrong with drawing naked anime girls, of course, but you can understand that if a client is looking for a fantasy, semi-realistic painting of their female orc character, or a realistic portrait of their spouse, it's more than likely that they won't bother sifting through a sea of anime girls to find the style they want, imagining it isn't here. Let's just say that, at the time, the website took a definite direction that wasn't in line with my genre, but this direction didn't make the different, more realistic art styles stand out either.

Soon, commissions slowed down for me, so I closed my account, but by then I was already working elsewhere.

That said, this platform could still be a useful tool if you’re looking to take on smaller commissions.

DreamUp

2014-2015

DreamUp wasn’t an AI generator back then. It was actually a subsidiary of DeviantArt, where clients could post projects and artists could apply. It was a competitive platform that offered well-paid work–very well-paid. I remember seeing jobs posted that ranged from $300 to $1,200. DreamUp was a very professional platform for clients with a mid to high budget.

I believe I landed my very first book cover commission through this website when I was in my last year of high school. I remember getting the job and going to school the next morning, excited to share the news with my classmates. Everyone was super thrilled for me (we were a really close-knit class!), and I felt like I was walking on air.

Unfortunately, as far as I know, that book was never released, but it didn’t matter because I was moving forward, and fast.

I’m not sure when DreamUp was shut down, but I do know that DeviantArt held onto the copyrighted name, assigning it to something so anti-old DreamUp that it still boggles my mind.

ArtCorgi

Now Artistree

2014-2019

When I received an invitation to join ArtCorgi from its founder, I already had a somewhat consistent portfolio. I was painting portraits and fantasy illustrations, and the clients on this platform were looking for both–your typical wedding and pet portraits, as well as book covers, which were what really interested me. To get to the latter, I had to do the former. Over the years, I’ve painted so many realistic portraits that now I have a strict rule for my own sanity not to do them any more. I have great respect for portrait artists, but it’s just not me.

When I first submitted my prices to the person I was in contact with, she kindly suggested that I raise them... a lot. That was a major step forward in my professional career. I went from charging $50 to $100/$200 overnight. And to my surprise, people actually wanted to commission me at those prices!

From 2014 to 2019, I took nearly every commission that came my way. I never spoke directly with the clients; all instructions and feedback went through my point of contact, which helped maintain a level of professionalism, although now that I’m used to working directly with clients, I’m not sure I’d want to go back to having an intermediary.

Sadly, as with all good things, this chapter came to an end. My point of contact eventually left communication in the hands of someone else, and shortly after, the commission fee changed to, I believe, 30%.

Simply put, 30% is an unrealistic cut for a website like this. For an agent that gets you all kinds of big work in the publishing industry, sure, but since this was not the case I had to stop taking commissions. Despite that, my overall experience with ArtCorgi was very positive.

Today, ArtCorgi joined another platform, Artistree. As far as I can tell, Artistree doesn’t take any fees from artists, with clients covering a small cost instead.

Sketchmob (?)

2016-2020

This was probably the platform I used the most. I’ve lost count of how many commissions I received through Sketchmob. Many. Enough to generate a steady income at the time. With reasonable fees and a variety of art styles available, clients contacted me almost daily. Communication was direct between artists and clients, and payments could be split. The review system also worked very well… for a while.

Once I raised my prices, requests became fewer and farther apart. But by then, I was already working with my own clients.

Is this platform still active? Who knows. The website is still up and the chat feature works, but I’ve seen users complain that money available for withdrawal never arrived via PayPal (the only payment method the platform accepted, if I remember correctly). Personally, I wouldn’t risk completing a job through Sketchmob right now, at least not until they release an update.

If you’ve used the platform recently and successfully received payment within the last six months, please let me know, and I’d be happy to update this section!

Upwork

2017-2019

In 2017, I was determined to break into the book publishing industry. After trying out Fiverr and Freelancer.com with no success (the competition was too fierce for someone just starting out), I decided to give Upwork a shot. The platform looked very professional, and while the process sounded a bit complicated, I wanted to land the interesting projects I saw featured in my category. I really wanted to work with a big client… but big clients didn’t seem to want me, despite having the Rising Talent badge.

In two years of bidding for jobs and submitting proposals, I only landed two projects: a small commission from a private client who actually reached out to me, and another project that I bid on.

Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic at the time and truly appreciated every opportunity that came my way. But looking back, I can see why Upwork didn’t work out for me. The platform just wasn’t the right fit for my style and niche, which is fantasy illustration. Graphic design, however, was (and still is) in much higher demand.

The commission process on Upwork wasn’t as simple as on other platforms. For instance, at the time, costs were calculated hourly, which was a challenge for someone like me who prefers working with flat fees (having already calculated my average hours spent on an illustration). From what I’ve seen, this has since changed.

One positive aspect of Upwork is its current 10% cut on what artists earn. I don’t recall if this has changed over the years, but 10% is quite reasonable in my experience. Of course, 0% would be even better, but for a platform as large as Upwork, 10% is fair.

Illustration Agency

2019-2021

By 2019, I had built a solid, consistent portfolio thanks to my personal work and commissions. I had a simple website in place, my Instagram following was growing… I was steadily working toward my goal of illustrating covers for big publishers (which didn't happen until two years ago).

So, when an illustration agency reached out to me one day, I was over the moon. I had always heard that artists were the ones who had to approach agencies, not the other way around.

Well, that should have been my first red flag.

I won’t name this agency because, unfortunately, I have nothing positive to say about it. In fact, the word “nothing” perfectly describes my involvement with them. Nothing came of this barely there experience.

The agency invited me to sign up, not on an exclusive basis, but they assured me they’d get me work. That work never came. Once in a while, I’d receive messages saying they were trying to pitch my portfolio to a French publisher or another client, but... nothing.

Please understand that meanwhile I was already working directly with shops and authors, so I don’t believe my portfolio was the problem. The real issue was something I didn’t realise at the time: some agencies do this. They feature talented artists in their catalogue without having actual clients lined up, just to appear more professional and credible to potential clients. Did this strategy work for them? Maybe. I’ll never know.

In 2021, I politely asked them to remove my portfolio from their website, and that was the end of it.

After that, I never actively sought out an agent again. By the time my portfolio was strong enough to approach a serious agency, I just didn’t need representation anymore.

Hireillo

2019-2022

My experience with Hire an Illustrator, or Hireillo, is mixed. At the time, Hireillo was a platform that hosted artists' portfolios, featured artist-submitted news, provided useful articles, resources, and directories of artists and agents. I joined the site hoping to catch the eye of publishers, but I was mostly contacted by authors and one fellow artist for a graphic novel.

Unfortunately, most inquiries didn’t go beyond the first couple of messages due to budget constraints. I did, however, have fun sharing news about my painting process and projects I landed on my own, which were often featured by the website. Additionally, if I had questions about 'complicated' things like copyright, or just needed advice, I could ask the website’s owner and that was incredibly helpful.

Despite these benefits, I didn’t see any real results, which was a little disappointing. The subscription fee was also... odd, for lack of a better word. $5 per week. In the end I just couldn’t justify the cost, so I stopped using the website altogether.

Reedsy

2019-2022

Finally, we come to the turning point.

I remember stumbling upon Reedsy randomly. It wasn’t very well known at the time, and I think it still isn’t. I was nervous when I submitted my portfolio because their catalogue features the best of the best: designers who’ve created covers for bestsellers, THE bestsellers, people who’ve worked on Stephen King covers, or George R.R. Martin's. Designers, editors, and marketers who are veterans. I didn’t have high hopes for my application. So, I was in shock when it got accepted.

I had an introductory Skype call with a representative from Reedsy, who explained how everything worked. Before the call ended, I remember asking if there was a good chance I’d get work through the platform. The rep laughed and said, “Yes.”

A few weeks in, I understood that laugh.

Reedsy has an overwhelming demand for book covers and commercial projects. For every designer there are many more clients. In peak seasons, I was getting requests almost every day. I’m not exaggerating.

Reedsy transformed my portfolio and my pricing structure. Thanks to the income I earned through the platform, I was finally able not to take everything that came my way but be selective and choose only the projects that really interested me.

The commission process is simple: artists pretty much decide how to split payments, what to include in agreements, and the best part, the most beautiful and helpful feature of all, they can request and adjust deadlines. For someone like me who's terrible with deadlines, this feature was a lifesaver. The admins are also very kind and responsive, available via email or chat.

Unfortunately (this is my last 'unfortunately', I promise), my time on Reedsy came to an end for personal reasons. I’ll explain since it’s no secret.

All my images on Reedsy were watermarked with my signature (my full name), which apparently violated the platform’s rules. Why? Because if a client saw my last name, they could contact me directly and bypass Reedsy, which meant the platform lost potential fees. I’ll admit this did happen a few times, but I had the good sense to redirect the client back to Reedsy.

After three years, an admin finally noticed and asked me to remove my full name from the watermark and any text on my profile. It was a simple and reasonable request, but here’s where the problem started. Profiles on Reedsy are public, and images appear in search engines like Google Images, meaning anyone could download my work and use it without permission. Sure, watermarks can be removed, but uploading my work without one in the first place felt like a bad idea. Btw, not only do I use watermarks, but I also use Glaze to protect my illustrations before sharing them online.

Anyway, for this reason, and also because I couldn’t get over the fact that full names were public at the time, something I won’t get into because, believe me, I tried over email, and my reasons went into the void (now, last names are just initialised, like Gabrielle R. Okay. Sure.), I had to close my account–they would have done it anyway because it was already 'flagged'.

Overall, if you’re willing to overlook the last name conundrum, I can’t recommend Reedsy enough. If you have a killer, solid portfolio and a love for books and editorial projects, go for it!

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

I hope you'll find this useful! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask (: Oh, and here's an old article I wrote in 2020, titled:

Tips to freelance illustrators to avoid being screwed over

Who knows, maybe I'll write another 'article' post in four years!

Instagram - ArtStation - Website - Inprnt - Etsy - TikTok

#art #artists on tumblr #Article #For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies #Commissions #Illustration #Design #freelancer #gabrielle ragusi

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inniefulme · 1 day

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you're so forgetful !

summary ; in which the skz members are your boyfriend and: you asked them to do something/had something to do but forgot to do it and now you're mad so now they try to apologize!

bf!skz x shorttempered!reader

notes ; my last post got WAY more attention than intended so now i am incredibly worried about finishing the actual thing fast.. here's a little something while you wait teehee (update: i forgot this app even existed WTFF i swear school has been busy please understand)

warnings ; swearing, some sexual jokes at bin and hyune's part but not tm, didn't exactly go throufh everything so might have some spelling/grammar mistakes so i apologize in advance !!!! reader isn't mentioned in the story, lmk if i miss anything <3

bang chan

you probably asked him to defreeze the meat in the fridge when you left to buy groceries and other home needs but he forgot to because he was so engrossed on his computer and even had the time to go live for stays !!!! and he couldn't even take the meat out.. (ik what ur thinking)

you were definitely MAD because you wanted to have a nice dinner with him and you already planned everything out, it was already 10 pm when u got back too :( now you're ignoring him after you scolded him for forgetting

"y/n, please, i'm sorry. i swear i really did forget." is all he could say, he's too confused to think of what to say because he knew he messed up bad time when you're even rejecting his spoilers for the next come back like ??????

he'd be sitting in front of his computer thinking about what could possibly be a way to win you back, he even decided to go live again to ask stays. some said get you something you would like, or maybe just keep saying sorry.

he decided to do the next best thing, keep saying sorry of course!

"y/n, i'm really sorry. please forgive me, please, please?" he begs right in front of you kneeling down as u sat down on the couch completely ignoring his presence while you watched the tv.

he looked so sad at this point, ready to give up as he sat beside you. "i really am.." he pouted, leaning his head against your shoulder. you of course couldn't bare seeing him like that anymore and gave up, patting his head

"it's fine.. stop whining." you said, which chan immediately perked up hearing and looked up at you again. "are you sure? really?" he tries to get your confirmation first.

"yes.. don't worry." you replied, which made him sigh in relief as he placed your hand on his. "i really just, really am sorry. i won't let this happen again okay? even though it was about some meat in the fridge." you laughed, nodding. "promise?"

"promise." he kisses the back of your hand and smiled widely

lee know

genuinely i didn't know what he'd forget to do the most so i just thought of something dumb

and what dumb is it? you asked him to login to your game later so you don't lose you streak of course!

and he still forgot because he slept, woke up, played with the cats, eat and slept again probably

now you're pissed off because you were on your 143 streak and he ruined it :(

"oh come on it's just a game.." he makes up an excuse. "a game i spent hours on! don't you know how long it took to login that much and now you made me lose my streak?!" you crossed your arms, pouting

"you're overreacting, c'mere." he extends his hands out. "no, i'm mad." you looked away

"oh please, i'm not falling for that.." well i guess he did because you kept on ignoring him for 3 hours straight which made him go insane ngl not being able to touch you, especially when you're at home with him and still REFUSING physical contact

"okay fine, i'm sorry okay? please open the door, soonie wants to see you." he knocks on the door. "is it soonie or you're the one who wants to see me?" you asked

"both. now open up." he keeps on knocking and refusing to stop, which made you annoyed. "the door isn't even locked dumbass." you yelled out, which made him silent for a moment before opening the door

"could've told me before.." he rolls his eyes playfully, before getting in bed with you. "i really am sorry okay, don't ignore me like that ever again." he snuggles up with you as soonie joined in

"then don't do something like that again.." you groaned. "i promise, okay?" he assures you, holding you in his arms tight

changbin

here's an interesting one!

ahm.. something like lee know's maybe? he forgot to... do the laundry?????

that's all i could think of sorry

no bc u told him to do it like 4 hours ago while u had some work to do, you didn't even leave the house or anything but no now it's 10 pm and he still forgot womp womp

your favorite shirt is in the pile too and you were planning on wearing it tmrw when u and binnie go out :((((

"you could've set a reminder at least?!" you scolded him, which he just sat there in the couch crossing his arms feeling bad because he knew it was his fault

"i forgot to set one too.." he mutters, looking up at you. "you're too forgetful sometimes, it's bad!"

"it can't be helped okay!" changbin snaps back, before he pulled you onto his lap and groaned. "sorry. stop being so mad about it, you can find other shirts that could fit on you."

"but you said you loved that one the most.." you pouted. "you look good in anything, and i'll love you no matter. it doesn't make much of a difference." he says while running his hand through your hair "i just loved it because it compliments your body the most." he smirks

"hmph.." you whine, refusing to touch him in any sort of way despite already being on top of him. "come on, i said i'? sorry..?" he cups your cheeks, before playing with it for a while. "here, i'll let you buy something from my phone.. how about that?" your ears perk up, as you quickly take a glance at him. "promise?" you asked. "promise, bub."

you smiled, before wrapping your arms around his neck and hugged him. "thsnk you~" you cooed, as changbin laughs it off. "in one other condition.." he adds

"let me do anything to you tonight, eh?" he raises an eyebrow teasingly, which made you blush a bit but simply shrugged it off as you hit him playfully

"ow!" he pretends to be hurt, as you pouted. "i guess that's a yes, hm love?" he chuckles, pulling his phone out of his pocket

hyunjin

let's say he forgot it was your date today, except like teeny bit worse

you were already dressed up, did a bit of makeup and everything, only to see him lying on the couch with the remote on his hand, skimming through the channels on the tv

you were genuinely confused, thinking you got the date wrong or anything, but no, it really was today

"hyune? why aren't you ready yet?" you asked. "hm? where we going?" he looks up from the couch, sitting up as he looks at you for a moment, smilinf at your appearance. "you're kidding right? you said we have a date."

"date? when?" he tilts his head to the side. "i don't remember setting one for us, you're messing things up babe." that is, until his phone alarm rang with the title; 'date with y/n'

you would agree that if he simply forgot and just needed a reminder, he'd be off the hook. but even saying YOU were the one messing things up despite being the one planning the whole thing is just another story

"oh fuck.." he mutters as he looks at his phone. not only that, he set it 2 hours after the actual date, now you both missed your reservation. "hwang hyunjin. are you kidding me right now?" you cross your arms, clearly mad

"i'm sorry, i totally forgot.. i was just-"

"too busy with the damn tv? oh i can see that!" you cut him off, now scolding him. "now we missed the reservation!" you groaned, stomping yout feet towards your room..

"babe, look, i'm really sorry okay? i didn't mean to." hyunjin tries to apologize, standing behind you in front of the mirror while you removed your not-too-much-of-makeup-but-still-was-something makeup that took work

"pleasee? i can still make it up to you, we can go elsewhere." he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting hid chin on your shoulder

"anywhere you want, my treat, you don't even have to do anything but enjoy yourself, how about that?"

your furrowed eyebrows slowly went upwards, as you stared at him from the mirror. "anything..?"

"yes, love." he kisses your cheek. "anything." you contemplate it for a moment, before you sighed. "fine.. since we're still going."

"there we go, there's my lover." he giggles, pinching your cheek. "no need for you to wear any makeup or change, your perfect as you are. i'll be taking your clothes off later eitherway." he says laughing, running his hand through your hair

#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #hyung line #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #imagine #thoughts #skz scenarios #boyfriend #read #shorts

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brummiereader · 3 days

Text

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Nine/ Final Chapter)

Summary: As the gathering of guests in the small bricked church, wait on your stuttering response. Tommy is also left, holding his breath for the finale of his carefully timed plans to come to fruition. Will things pan out as he intended? Or will fate be the ruling decider over the day's events?

Warnings: Language, angst, violence, mutual pining, use of one racial slur.

Word Count: 5500

Fuck, fuck, FUCK...where are they?! Tommy's panicked eyes darted between the large oak doors to you stood at the altar as your stuttering response torturously echoed back to him.

Hands clammy, ears ringing. His heart rattled furiously against its bony enclosure as a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. Forcing him onto his feet just as you let your long awaited response slip past your lips.

" I...don't" your wobbly voice answered, head shaking in unison with the internal thoughts that had spurred on your response as Cal's grip on your fingers tightened, crushing them between the pads of his palms.

Rather poor and homeless, you thought to yourself as your answer settled among the many guests attending the supposedly joyous day. The very same answer, you'd be a fool to deny you hadn't already settled your mind on, ever since the day you learned of the promise your father had selfishly made on your behalf.

A life of hard labor suddenly sounded as peaceful, as comforting as the last rays of summer glittering through the technicolour stained windows warming your skin.

Your willingness to take on the burdens of others had finally made way for something you had shown throughout the entirety of your troubled life. Will power. Backed with a shit tonne of your famously brooding stubbornness, of course.

"Now, sweetpea..." Cal's teeth gritted together, pulling you into him like a flimsy rag doll, limp from hours of play as a sudden dread of fear rolled up your spine, eclipsing your renewed confidence as he made his intentions clear.

" Father, proceed" his head snapped towards the cloaked man, brazenly ignoring your protests and the wave of startled gasps from the members of high society watching from the pews.

"I'm sorry sir, but we..."

"I said proceed, goddamit!" Cal's voice snapped with fury, holding you tightly in place when a bellowing voice boomed from the far end of the small chapel, swiftly commanding Cal's attention.

" Enough!" Tommy yelled, hands clasped fiercely onto the back of the wooden bench in front of him. " You heard her. Now, let her go" he warned, his menacing tone of voice accompanied by the two gloomy shadows sat beside him. Teeth baring as they excitedly awaited to draw the blood of any man who dared to pick a fight with them.

"Him?" Cal scoffed as he snapped his eyes back to you, refusing to accept that less than a month's worth of time spent with a cutthroat gangster was enough to sway your mind from a life of unimaginable riches and titles that he had to offer " A gypsy thief?"

As your eyes turned to Tommy, a watery cloud of unspent tears settled in front of your vision as those present waited on your answer for a second time. An answer you found yourself unable to give under the suffocating sea of eyes, drowning you under the pressure of their stares. An answer you would flee from in a flowing stream of taffeta and lace down the aisle you had solemnly walked mere moments ago.

Running past the lure of Tommy's eyes, you crashed through the church doors and away from the answer he waited on berated breath for.

" I think it would be best if we postpone..." the priest turned to the many guests as the heavy tension you had left at the doors of the chapel in your dramatic departure, weaved its way through the sounds of shuffling feet and hushed whispers.

" Wait!" Cal stopped him as he smoothed back the stray hairs, greased with lacquer that had fallen In front of his darkening eyes.

" She just needs a little convincing, is all" his attention narrowed in on the towering wooden doors, sharply turning on his polished heel with an unstoppable determination to have his way.

Unwilling to sit idle, to see for a second time the bruising damage a private conversation with Cal ended in. Tommy stepped over his brothers, rapidly following after the echoes of raised voices that distanced him from you.

"Hold up, gents" Arthur's long body lurched in front of the exit, stopping the two pompous friends of Cal from interfering in the scrap undoubtedly about to take place.

" By the order of who?" Dicky, the son of the notorious butcher of Bordesley Green spat as a heavy hand settled on his shoulder, a quick smirk of enjoyment flashing across its owners face as he looked to his younger brother. Prolonging the schooling of the self-righteous twat in front of him on just who he was up against.

" By order of the Peaky fucking Blinders. That's who"

Dragging your body outside, you let your gasping lungs inhale the welcome chill of Autumn approaching as you let the weight of your body rest against the hood of one of the many cars lined up along the browning hedgerow.

Finally, it was over. Your refusal of marriage made known to all those present. For if god was your witness, then so were they. And soon the joyful chattering of gossip would rapidly make its way among high society. With tales of Cal's abhorrent temper unmasked under the watchful eye of the almighty and all those attending.

" Please, just a moment" you briefly looked up to the sound of concerned footsteps making their way across the cemented ground as you rested your trembling hand on your heaving chest. But concern was far from what was coming your way.

Within a blink of an eye, you felt the full force of Cal's body slamming you into the car. His fingers wrapping tightly around your throat.

" You little bitch!" he seethed through gritted teeth, releasing the shame, the anger he felt for having been shown up in front of the many noble faces of high society he deemed more important than the sentiments of the woman he was supposedly in love with.

"You dare to show me up? Me?!" he spat, inches from your face as his fingers curled around your throat.

" Cal..." you mumbled, desperately scrambling for air as you watched the dimming rays of sun cower behind the looming frightful sight in front of you.

" Now, we're going to go back in there. And you're going to tell everyone how you were overcome with a touch of the old cold feet. Ok sweetpea?" he squeezed his fingers around the protruding veins of your neck, impatient for your response his ignorance and straining grasp hadn't realised he was delaying.

"No..." you wept, furiously shaking your head as your hands searched for something, anything to hinder him from squeezing the last breaths of life you so desperately wanted to live.

" When will you understand, Y/N. I always get my..."

His damning words were abruptly delayed as you felt his body being pulled off you, his grip releasing from your neck through searing gashes as his nails dragged along your reddening skin.

With dazed eyes, and rattling lungs, you pulled yourself up to the sound of feet shuffling along the gritted ground, bodies grappling in a bloody fight, dulling out the ringing in your ears. Tommy.

"Lard" Arthur noted, pointing at the neatly curled moustache sported by one of Cal's lackeys as he internally weighed up who had the mightiest tash of whiskers out of the two of them.

" I beg your pardon?" the gentlemen's brows scrunched with insult that he, a man of such standing would use a kitchen staple intended for the roasting of spuds on his pampered face.

"To keep the strays in place" Arthur replied, smoothing down his own perfectly trimmed moustache with the pads of his fingers.

" Lanolin" the pompous man turned his head up and away from the gangster and his accompanying guard dog keeping a strong hold on the church doors.

" Beggars can't be choosers" Arthur sniffed as he straightened his tailored suit, raising his chin above his competition. Still bloody taller.

" At least he doesn't smell like Aunt Pols Sunday roast though, ay Arthur?" John sniggered, earning him a sharp blow to the side. The toothpick twirling between his teeth, dangerously close to making its way down his throat from the force of his brothers strategically placed knobbly elbow.

" Fuck off, John boy"

"Stop!" You screamed watching Cal and Tommy throw fists at each other, the flaps of their tailored suits casting shadows under their scuffling feet with every dodge of their bodies.

"Tommy, please!" you tumbled forward, trying to calm the rage within him before he left you with the slaughtered image of a dead body sprawled onto a guests' car as he held the upper hand over Cal. His gun swiftly pulled from its holster, now firmly nestled into the neck of his opponent.

" Y/N, back!" He pushed you away from the line of fire with his free hand. Bloody knuckles staining your ivory gown as his finger squeezed around the beckoning lull of the trigger, seconds from blowing a bullet through Cal's skull.

" Mr Shelby?" A meek voice broke Tommy away from his gory endeavor as you turned in unison to see a veiled woman holding the hand of a dark haired tot, tearfully sobbing through her wobbling bottom lip.

"Can't hear anything" John mumbled with his ear pressed up against the wooden doors as a small crowd of inquisitive eyes gathered around him.

" It's gone quiet" Arthur smirked to his brother, satisfied the grave Tommy had personally dug that morning would soon be filled with the body of the bastard that had delayed his punishment in the back alleys of Small Heath.

" Perhaps an ambulance is warranted?" One of Cal's acquaintances stepped forward before swiftly being pushed back into his rightful place in the newly established pecking order, void of status and wealth but instead, muscle and crazed instability.

" Are you doubting my brother's ability to get the job done, ay?" Arthur squared up to the mumbling man, offended by the mere suggestion that a Shelby, reared from fighting stock would acquire backup to take down one lone man.

" Wha...?" the pompous prick replied, suddenly realising that the only call worthy of being made was that to the foreboding sound of a horse-drawn hearse.

"Alright, alright! Give us some space. Bloody hell" John rolled his shoulders as the many guests pushed forward, eager to see the gruesome sight like the jeering crowds that waited on the ax mans delivering blow from times before.

" Anybody would think they've never seen a scrap before!" John shouted over the murmurs and growing excitement as he looked to his brother.

" Well, brother..." Arthur's smile deepened into a mischievous grin as he pushed the doors open, freeing the crowd like a King would his loyal subjects. " '...'ave at it boys and girls!"

"Tommy? What's going on?" Your eyes darted from the small child's whimpers to Tommy lowering his gun as he released his grip from around Cal's collar.

Plagued with his own childhood horrors, he'd be damned to inflict such nightmares on another innocent mind caught in the cross fire between the affairs of adults, their fragile minds were too young to understand.

" Y/N, meet Jayne. Cal's daughter" Tommy pulled away, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

" Daughter...?" Your brows knitted together, your attention pulled back to the sweet girl standing patiently next to her guardian.

" Our Jayne's only surviving family" the sister from the convent informed you as the sound of the crowds footsteps came to a stop, curious by the unexpected change of events.

" Utter nonsense!" Cal straightened the lapels of his suit as he eyed the rosy cheeked toddler from the corner of his eye. Seething with disdain for the image of himself he saw in her.

" Dear god...she's the spit of you" Johnathan remarked as Cal's head snapped away with a scoff.

" Only surviving family? But her mother...where's her mother?" Your curiosity peaked for the small child and the unusual tale her presence brought as you noted the subtle exchange of glances between Tommy and the woman that cared for her.

" Dead" Tommy straightened his back, his eyes snapping to the gulping man whose hidden lies, now held the attention of all those present.

" Found strangled to death in her bedsit two years ago, with her newborn daughter screaming in her bassinet beside her. Cal's daughter" Tommy looked to you as the horror of the childs early life came to light.

"Her murderer stood here, a free man, with us today" Tommy let the darkness that Cal had hidden from his life of riches be known as the sudden realisation that you could have shared the same fate rattled your nerves.

" A troubled life she led, but we are not ones to judge. Little Jayne is in our care now, away from danger" the sister revealed as she caressed the plump cheek of the small child, before her eyes snapped to Cal shuffling away from the growing whispers and stares of those stood watching.

His liking for visiting the back alleys of Birmingham and the service's they had to offer, was now laid bare for all to see. How he had dodged the repercussions of the horrors he had inflicted with the help of his wealth and status, avoiding the deadly drop of the hangman's nose as punishment for the life he taken from a woman few cared for, exposed. His most favourite choice of punishment, brushing down the film of sweat sitting on his forehead, those of the hands he used to squeeze the life from Jaynes' mother.

As Cal's reputation in high society came crashing down around him, so did his body as his widening eyes darted from face to face to the sound of scum and bastard leaving their mouths. All thanks to the strategically placed cane of an elderly woman, intent on seeing him take his fall from grace in a more... physical sense.

" Ever so sorry. Shakey hands" your grandmother looked down past her nose to Cal slumped on the ground at her feet, her fingers as steady as a meadow of flowers on a windless day clutching around the top of her cane.

" Now where in the bloody hell does Meredith think he's going?" Arthur's moustache twitched at the scrambling man, formerly known as Cal, running through the gritted ground away from Arrow House.

" I'll get him" John swiftly pulled out his gun, closing one eye as he honed in on Cal heading for the small pasture of galloping horses.

" Steady on, John! You'll take one of the bloody toffs' heads off" Arthur lowered his brother's revolver as the herd of guests ran forward, keen to see how the day's thrilling events would end.

Stood back, Tommy's eyes drifted to yours. Desperate for your acknowledgment, for you to seek comfort and refuge in him. But as he watched your eyes cast down to your shuffling feet, he was met with the glistening flicker of unspent tears, pooled under your batting lashes. Shit.

" Bloody hell, that horse is as skittish as a Catholic girl on confession day. She'll buck him off" Arthur's eyes narrowed in across the field to Cal precariously sat on your white mare.

" Five says she won't"John put his hand out, keen for the day to not got to waste as he waited for his brother to take the bet.

" Go on then" the two brothers shook on it in a slimy spit-covered pact as serious as any pinky promise.

Gripping onto the ivory mane of your horse, Nelly violently bucked with her hind legs as Cal desperately tried to control her erratic movements. The crowd of people that had gathered by the rickety wooden fence, encouraging the theatrical display with waving hands and hurling cheers until she delivered one mighty kick, throwing Cal off head first into the muddied ground below him.

With a satisfied flare of her nostrils, notorious Nelly gave one last boot into the face of her unwanted rider for good measure before happily trotting off to join the others grazing.

" 'ere" John relented, pulling five coppers from his pocket to a gloating Arthur.

" Five bleeding shilling!" Arthur looked down at the jingling coins in his hand, expecting the feeling of crisp pound notes to warm his fingers.

" Tit" Arthur mumbled, smacking the back of his younger brother's shaved head as the crowd's laughter grew to a roaring thunder at the sight of Cal, muddy and dazed, slumped in the grass feet from them.

Stood away from the crowd, their echos of laughter, their grinning smiles of amusement tapered back to you. Your life had been turned into a circus, on display for the enjoyment of others.

Pulling up the dragging ends of your dress, you turned and leave, running from the laughter of those who would soon be gossiping about the pitiful life you led during their afternoon luncheons in the most prestigious of tearooms.

" Y/N!" Tommy called after you, watching the cascade of tears that you had desperately kept from the peering eyes of others, trickle down your cheeks.

Shit, shit, shit, Tommy thought to himself as he ran after the rippling ends of your muddied dress, suddenly realising he had taken it one step too far in his fondness for a dramatic conclusion.

" Darling..." Tommy's feet came to a stop behind you, his hands gently cupping your waist as you sought solitude behind the small bricked chapel away from the lingering sounds of laughter.

" Go away, Tommy!" You snapped your head back to him as he raised his hands in surrender. Carelessly brazen enough to approach you without precaution like he would with your jittery horse that shared your guarded nature.

" Y/N, I'm sorr.."

"I'm glad you all find this funny. My life, the grand finale to your finishing act" you cut off his intended apology, pulling the netted veil from your head, the pearl necklace from around your neck through frustrated sobs." Would you like me to get up and dance for you all too?"

" Hey, c'mere" Tommy sighed as he tested the waters with an apprehensive step in your direction, unable to withstand the upsetting sight he was responsible for.

" No!" You snapped back, unapologetic with your adamant refusal to be comforted by the day's event and the harrowing fate that could have awaited you if your response had been two letters short.

" No, Tommy. Not this time " you shook your head, watching the hurt of your rejection pull down the corners of his eyes as you turned to leave. Shunning him out like he had done to you without the slightest possibility for reconciliation.

" Don't fret dear, she'll come around" Grannie made her presence known as she turned the corner to see the internal battle Tommy was inflicting upon himself as he watched you leave.

" I'm not so sure, Dowager" he turned back to see the gentle smile, creased with fine lines of wisdom greeting him.

" Call me, Grannie" she placed her cane in front of her, slowly stepping towards a man whose fractured heart had taken another self-imposed blow.

" I'm afraid she comes from a long line of stubbornness, Mr Shelby. Best let that steam cool off, or I'm afraid you may get burnt. And nobody likes the sting of that" she patted his arm, drawing his attention away from you marching down the dusty path his longing eyes desperately wanted to follow after.

"That was quite the finish, Mr Shelby. Are you sure you're not classically trained?" your grandmother teased, earning her the boyish smirk of amusement she had grown fond of.

" Not too much, then?" Tommy's eyes playfully asked as he gave her his arm to take, leading her back to the ruckus you had fled from.

" Goodness no. What's life without a little show, hm?" Grannie giggled as a loud wave of cheers came from the enclosed paddock.

" Seems we're not so different after all" your grandmother nodded to John sat on Nelly riding her one handed like a bucking bronco as Arthur worked the cheering crowds collecting bets.

" Five shillings says she kicks him off" Grannie turned to the grinning gangster with her hand out, lightening the heavy mood that shadowed above you both.

" You're on"

Sat back at your brooding spot in the bay window of your grandmother's cottage, you watched as the maple tree in front of her house disheveled its crisp leaves from its branches one by one into a high enough heap to jump in to, in a fit of giggles. But laughter had escaped you for more than eight weeks since Tommy dramatically exposed Cal's secret. And although you were safe from ever feeling his heavy hand strike you again, you let yourself slip into your solemn thoughts, relentlessly mulling over what had been unearthed.

Cal was gone. His life ended by Tommy with a bullet through his head. Buried by his hand in a six-foot deep hole in an unmarked grave. His name forgotten for an eternity. No flowers laced in tears sitting beside his earthy tomb. And like everything in your life, you were faced with an unexpected twist of fate.

Arrogantly bold enough to assume you would be his wife, Cal had prematurely signed his estate over to you until you birthed a son.

A child that never came to be, a demise quicker than expected, you were left with his thousands and the harrowing reminder of the young child he had fathered. Jayne.

Relinquishing the hefty sum of money left in your name, you forwent a life of unimaginable riches, and set up a trust fund for the orphaned child in the hope she would be able to carve her own future, free from the ruling hands of greedy men.

But with all matters settled, one still occupied your every waking breath. Tommy.

" Speak of the devil!" Grannie announced, suspiciously in tune with your internal thoughts of melancholy as she turned her head to the sound of a Bentley steadily driving up to her gated home.

" Right on time" she giggled as you flew up from your seat, eyes darting in a frantic panic to the weathered window.

" Into the closest she goes!" she teased as you hurried passed her, making a beeline for your trusted hiding space in the cramped hallway. A spot you had cowered yourself in each week over the past two months.

"Mr Shelby" Grannie opened the door, the gentle autumn breeze bringing notes of whisky and tobacco, with a handful of ribbon tied hydrangeas along with it.

" Grannie" he greeted her, kissing her cheek in a loving familiarity as his eyes searched behind her for a sign of you.

" Y/N?" He sighed, questioning your whereabouts as you battled with a precariously placed broom beside you in the darkened room, the door ajar enough to see the shine of his blue eyes longing for a glimpse of you.

" Indisposed I'm afraid" your grandmother gave the disappointing weekly response he'd become accustomed to.

" In the closest" she quietly mouthed, rolling her eyes as Tommy's darting gaze met yours through the thin line of light. Taking you aback enough for you to stumble into the aged broom with a thud. Oh, bollocks.

" Tell her I came by" Tommy left the bouquet of flowers in the hands of your grandmother, his pining eyes still firmly fixed on the shadow of your body behind the door.

" You have my word" your Grannie patted his hand before he turned to leave with one last glimpse of your batting eyes through the rays of sun shining through the glass-framed door he'd opened.

Never staying for long. Never intruding into your life without your welcome. Tommy would make the long drive to your Grans home in Cheltenham, arriving on the dot at exactly 12.05 every Friday.

Like a delivered telegram, like a small hello. He made it his weekly routine to show you how much he still longed to have you back in his life. How much he missed you.

" No sense in hiding anymore, dear. Your inherited clumsiness gave it away" your grandmother shut the front door, turning to see the irritated pout sitting on your lips.

" For you" she handed the freshly picked bouquet of flowers, you ceremoniously tossed in the bin along with the others.

" My sweet summer child, sit with me" Grannie sighed, ushering you to her favourite armchair beside the window of her garden.

" Before you say anything, it will never work" you stopped the words of advice your stubbornness was intent on ignoring.

" I don't even like him...that much" you started to ramble, releasing the many excuses you had convinced yourself of one by one to your grandmother's stuttering lips as she tried to get a word in. " He's so pig headed, so cocky. So..so stubborn!"

" Stubborn?" your grandmother raised her brow, a pursed smile of amusement for the characteristic he shared with you. " You're more alike than you care to realise, my dear"

" I'm nothing like him. We come from two completely different worlds, Grannie" you crossed your arms, blowing the lock of hair from in front of your eyes as you fell back into your seat like a stroppy child. " God, why won't he just let me be..."

" That's where you're wrong, my dear" Grannie leaned forward, taking your hand.

" I have a confession" she whispered. An urgent enough secret that she felt it best said in a hushed voice to you, the only person within close proximity to her home, if not miles from the nearest sign of life. " We're counterfeits"

" Counterfeits?' you voiced louder than intended as you scooted forward in your plush seat.

" Good heavens, child. Do you want the whole of the county to hear?" she scolded you and your rolling eyes as she returned to her story

" His name was Jack. Known to some as, Jack the lad from Digbeth" she divulged into her past, reliving her younger years through the memories she cherished.

" A strapping stable boy who worked on my father's land. We had taken a fancying to each other, and after a summer's night in 1847 I found myself in a rather troublesome ballooning predicament.

" Grannie..." your cheeks blushed, hearing the details of your grandmother's risky teen years hidden behind the prudishness she had shown throughout her entire adult life.

" Don't think I don't know how my favourite afternoon treat was void of its jammy filling, dear" her brows raised, reddening your cheeks to the same shade of her favourite jelly before returning to the tales of her younger years.

" He asked me to marry him, said we'd run away together and join the fair...a hopeless romantic. Of course, when my father caught wind of our plans, my Jack was banished from the home, and I was quickly arranged to marry into a noble family before my growing secret revealed itself before my wedding night" she finished, feeling a pang of sadness for her long-lost love she'd never see again and the son they shared, your father.

" My dear, we're not of blue blood, not even a hint of turquoise" she wrapped her fingers around your young hands, free from the wrinkles that creased hers.

"You come from the same cobbled streets of the man whose heart and your own you're breaking. Fate brought you together, my child. Best not to piss it off with your shared stubbornness and start off on the wrong foot, dear. Bygones be bygones, hm? She sent you a gentle smile of encouragement as your brain scrambled to reevaluate your life after yet another exposed secret.

A family of commoners. The most freeing of revelation you could have ever discovered. Not only were you free of Cal, you were free of the restraints high society held on you. Free to love and live the way you wanted, with the man you wanted. If you would let your bullheadedness be buried with the troubled past you still held on to, of course.

"Easy girl" Tommy brushed his hand along the mane of your horse, calming her jittery nerves when something, or rather, someone caught his attention in the dark orbs of her eyes.

As the smell of your sweet perfume filled his senses, the sound of your heels clicking along the cobbled stable floor sang in his ears. His hand, unsteady as your horse's temper, rested on her back, fingers rising with each calming, heavy breath she took.

"Am I in hell?" He teased, the curling lilt of his black country accent heard through the small smile of playfulness on his lips as he stood with his back to you.

Slowly approaching, you rested your hand gently on his coated arm as his shoulders relaxed in response to the comforting feeling of your touch. Only for the skin prickling reaction to be swiftly snatched away when you poked him in the ribs shortly after.

"Nope. Still alive" Tommy grunted, a hint of a throaty laugh heard through his wincing breath.

" Hey" his voice pattered out upon seeing your radiating beauty, his eyes had gone too long without gazing upon as he turned around.

"Hi" you quietly replied, apprehensive as to how he'd take your sudden appearance back into his life you'd hidden yourself away from for two months.

"You came home" his lips softened into a loving smile as he stepped towards you, desperate to pull you into him.

" Is it my home, Tommy?" Your eyes lowered, darting with every quickened breath back up to his gaze as he took in the fading sun's glittering film of light on your wind-nipped cheeks.

"Ours" he soothed the redness from your skin as his thumb brushed over the slopes of your face down to your plump lips as an unknowing silence of how things would pan out, settled between your bodies.

" New horse?" Tommy broke the quietness hovering over you both, lightening the mood before a heavy discussion of hurt feelings ensued.

For now, he wanted to bask in the moment as you stood in unison with him. And with your relieved sigh of acknowledgment to the black stallion stood outside the stables, he was reassured to know that you too, welcomed the distraction. Let bygones be bygones, as your Gran would say.

" Moody looking thing, what's his name?" Tommy led you forward for introductions, resting his hand on the slope of your back.

" Tommy. And I ride him every day" the corners of your smiling lips turned into an amused grin as a scoffing laugh loudly responded to your choice of name.

" Tommy, eh? Sorry mate, but we can't have that. I'm gonna have to steal your girl back" he patted down the muscled body of your stallion before guiding your giggles outside to the front of Arrow House.

"Still in tact, I see" you looked up at the bricks of your childhood home, feeling his eyes roam over your face, hand holding you tightly next to him. " Seems you managed fine without me"

" The house hasn't been the issue" Tommy turned you to face him as your hands brushed up his chest, fingers curling around the lapels of his tailored jacket.

" It's me. I've been bored. Got me gardening, it's been that bad" he revealed his newly-founded hobby as your eyes drifted down to the potted flower, miserably limp with a stubbed out cigarette in its earthy soil.

"Goodness, going well I see" an amused smile for the green thumb he didn't inherit from his Aunt pulled at your lips as you felt him raise your eyes to meet him, his thumb hooked gently under your chin.

"No more avoiding me, sweetheart" His fingers brushed along your skin, cupping your cheek in his hand as he searched for reassurance that things wouldn't slip into how the past two months had panned out.

"Especially not in closets, eh?" he teased as you matched his toying smile, closing your eyes as he pressed his smiling lips into yours in a tender embrace.

" I lov.." you both stumbled to give your confessions of loyalty as you broke apart.

" Ladies first" Tommy shot you a wink, his playful response echoing the moments you had spent together in blissful torment of each other.

" I love you" the three-worded confession slipped past the draw bridge of stubbornness you had lowered to welcome him back in.

" I love you too"

Pulled into the warmth of his chest, an intoxicating sense of calm and comfort pulsed through your bodies.

For as the saying goes, home is where the heart is. And your hearts had finally found a home, in each other. Always.

The end.

Thank you to everyone that commented, reblogged and liked this series. Your interactions helped me finish this final, long awaited chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the ending in the comments below! Thank you again, my lovelies ❤️.

Brummie xxx

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@vlryexsworld @themorriganisamonster @thelastemzy @yolobloggers @sl-newsie

@meadows5

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader insert #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x female reader #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders series #cillian murphy

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callofdudes · 1 day

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*presents to you* price being a father figure to you and bringing you back to meet his wife where she treats you like her child 😭😭😭😭

Three makes a family.

John Price's history with his inability to have children was a rough one. His wife was a gentle woman with the heart of a lion inside. She had all the care a mother could provide and no children she could pour her love into. It was a struggle, but over the years they'd made due with themselves.

The idea of adoption has come up a few times, but John doesn't like the thought of being away so much from said child. It just wasn't a good situation they had found themselves in.

Price creating the 141 was just one of those ways that Price felt what it might be like to have family. Sure, he got his fair experience of what rounding up a gaggle of children would have been like. But he enjoyed the feeling of having fellow adults he could meet on his level while feeling paternal toward them.

You are one of them.

Price has had his fair share of wild run ins with you. And he's no stranger to getting you and John for something. But you were a good soldier regardless.

Talk of his family was limited of course. You guys knew he didn't have children, but not much more than that. Simon had been to the house before but refused to tell, it wasn't the greatest time when you visited anyway.

But now it's your turn to take up the mantle. Price's wife had decided she wanted company over at the house when he returned, so he invited one of you in secret as to not make the others potentially jealous or crowd his wife.

And that's how you got here, in the busy rush of the airport and following Price like a loet lamb to find the exit after grabbing your bags. Price looked around for his wife, and he spotted a sign with his name, and the most beautiful woman.

He smiled and led you over, falling in love all over again when he saw her.

"John!" She put the sign down and rushed to hug him, his firm arms curling around her. "Rebecca." *He replied fondly, kissing the top of her head. She had chest length blonde hair and a simple but lovely complexion.

You couldn't help a little smile at seeing them reunited, and a tad sheepish at meeting your captain's wife.

She opened her eyes, still smooshed against his chest and waved at you softly.

You waved back shyly.

They pulled away and Rebecca held out her hand to you. "Rebecca, and you are-"

"Everyone on base calls me Egg."

"Ah, John has told me a lot about you." She motioned for you two to follow her, walking with you back to the entrance of the airport.

"Wait- what has he been saying??" You cocked an eyebrow up.

"Only good things I promise." Price said quickly, to which Rebecca chuckled and shook her head softly.

You shot Price a look, and he innocently turned his head away to look back at his wife like nothing happened.

Rebecca gave you an entire window tour on the way back. You didn't mind listening to her introduce you to everything you passed. Her tone was warm and her smile never left her lips when he addressed you. It made you feel welcome, it was such a warm feeling that you felt around Price. Fitting.

Their house was beautiful, as much as London homes are, but theirs had a particular charm to it. Like a newly wed couple buying their first house together and never moving.

You lugged your bags up the driveway and into the house behind Rebecca, Price keeping the door open for you.

"Your place is nice." You commented when you put your bags down.

"Thank you. The spare bedroom is upstairs, I'll show you." She slipped her shoes off and motioned for you to follow.

The spare bedroom was a queen mattress, the walls were a light baby blue, and it made you smile. "Child's room?" You asked without thinking, and soon realizing your mistake.

Rebecca smiled, though her eyes dimmed in sadness. "We'd hoped. But you can have it." She went to the closet and pulled out some extra blankets. "In case it gets cold you can layer up. And if you need anything in here don't hesitate to tell us."

You nodded. "Thank you, I will."

Price squeezed your shoulder as you went to set up the room, and then turned to greet his wife properly with a loving kiss.

---

The first couple days at the house were nice, Rebecca was incredibly hospitable. She accommodated what you needed, and the double attention from Price was a win for you.

Rebecca couldn't help seeing you as a kiddo for her to take care of. The way Price was with you, wrapping an arm around you for snuggles or teasing you at dinner.

"Do you like cookies??" She asked from the kitchen as she kneaded the small balls of cookie dough and placed them on a tray.

"Cookies sound good. What kind??" You looked over at her from the table.

"Just chocolate chip. I figured I'd go simple."

You smiled a little. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

She nodded and finished putting the cookies on the tray and slid them into the oven. "They'll be out in a bit." She came by and gently patted your shoulder, a comforting touch from her.

Price came in from the patio after having a smoke and coughed when he walked in.

Rebecca and you both looked at him when he entered.

"John, be careful." Rebecca scolded softly, walking over and lifting his chin, seeing his tired eyes. She sighed softly and took his hand. "Go relax darling, a nap will do you more good than a cigar."

He hummed and shrugged. He tiredly stole a kiss from her lips before he had to lean into his arm to cough again.

You put your phone down and lightly shake your head. "Come on Captain."

Price huffed indignantly. "Oh so now both of you are policing me around??" He smirked and tugged Rebecca in by her waist and allowed you over.

But he didn't fight, allowing himself to be led to bed, and he flopped down, feeling you curl up to his left side, and Rebecca got comfy with a book at his other.

Price squeezed her hand and ruffled your hair. He wasn't old, but mannnn, he loves his old man naps.

You smiled as you got comfy, looking up at Rebecca. She looked back at you and smiled too, letting you rest.

And you woke up to the delicious smell of chocolate chip cookies. Price searched lazily for Rebecca, his arm still securely wrapped around you.

You yawned and rolled, hiding against his chest. He patted your shoulder and looked over at the door. "C'mon... I smell cookies."

"Ok..." You groaned and managed to drag yourself off of Price's chest and follow him downstairs where Rebecca was reading at the table.

"Cookies are ready." She said when she heard you two, smiling softly.

"Thank you, darling." Price said sleepily, going to the stove and taking up a cookie.

You hummed excitedly and also went for one. "Gooey." You said between bites, "I like them."

"I'm glad I could make them for you two."

She was like Price to you, a strong rock, and a warm embrace. She was like a mother, and that made you happy as much as it did her. She'd give anything to be a mother, and she wasn't picky of who it was she got to cherish.

(I know there's a lot of her character we've digested over a long time, this was the best I could come up with. I'm on a time crunch but take this. 🙂)

#call of duty #captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #Captain John Price x OC #john price x oc #found family #cod modern warfare #cod mw2

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mattyriddlesbitch · 3 hours

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Toxic!Mattheo Headcanons

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

You ever heard about putting nicotine patches on your partner to get them addicted to what they think is being with you? Yeah, he'll try something like that. So you get super cranky and go through withdrawal anytime you go too long without seeing him.

Winter break? Summer break? You break up? Anything that keeps you away from him for more than a day or two and you're going through withdrawal, but you're clueless as to why. You just think it's because you can't see Mattheo

100% the type to keep guys away from you. You can only talk to him and his friends if he is around. If you have an assignment with another guy for class, he'll tell the professor you can't work with him but you just don't feel comfortable enough to speak up. How sweet, the professors will think, thinking he's speaking up for you and being such a nice boyfriend.

Such a lovebomber too. Like will have days he's so lovey-dovey and affectionate and just keeps so overly perfect, but will switch randomly to picking fights or giving you the silent treatment until you're almost at your limit and lovebombs you again so you forgive him.

Def the kind to go through your phone and accounts all the time and demands all your passwords, but will put up a fight if you ask for his phone or passwords.

Now, I don't think he would cheat. I just think he's bad at expressing his feelings for you and treats you how he sees people around him treat their partners. But he doesn't like his privacy invaded and refuses to give you phone or passwords until you've been dating for a while, but he expects them from you pretty early on.

Will definitely try to make decisions for you since he knows what's best for you. No, no, baby, you need to take these classes, not those.

Puts a tracking app on your phone, for your safety, of course.

I believe the boys would share nudes they get in a groupchat and I do unfortunately believe he would send some of yours in there. He may be possessive of you, but, man he loves showing you off too, no big deal. Not like he's showing the world.

I do think if you tried, you could get him to stop most, if not all of these. Again, he just doesn't know how to love properly and thinks you're like a little trophy that he earned and he can do what he'd like with you.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff @leandre2006

@yours-truly-5 @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121 @leovaldezsbitch

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddleluvbot @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15 @starryslytherin0

@jolly4holly @st0n3dbarbi3 @kurumbukaari @whydoireadanymore @sweet-afternoon

@ilovehpb0ys @princessluvssleep @satosugu4-ever @reys-letters @mattiesgirl

@alwayslatetothefandoms @satosugu4-ever @whydoireadanymore @reys-letters @mcdonaldshelppage

@shaquilles-0atmeal @feistyfox47 @gillyweeds @pluto-9456 @jooniebluesworld

@hereticdance @lxserriddle @cindyss @saint-marvel @atadoddinnit

@simpforromance @yours-truly-5 @kenjikishimotoswifey @fallingblackveils @simpforromance

@strxwberri-s @nickirae @esmerai-artemis @blu3b3rrymuff1ns @m1lilachp

@roseofsharron438 @abeoavita @rafesba @ter-luer @slutsluvpaola

@lhotse8801 @eneywey @suna-rintired

Let me know if you would like to be added

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys headcanons

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nova-is-a-writer-now · 12 hours

Text

Highway Heat

Summary: Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and the trucker you flag down offers more than just roadside assistance.

A/N: Lord oh lord… I tried to be good i swear, i really tried to behave. The thing is my sweet beta reader @hautecouture02 requested a little roadside encounter one shot with Joel, specifically asking for FLUFF, and i swear on everything holy I tried my best to keep it PG… but sometimes things don’t go as I planned. So here, take this absolute filth of a one shot that’s little more than PWOP. ENJOY!!!!

Warnings: As previously stated, this is pretty much PWOP, Trucker!Joel i know nothing about trucks lol, maybe some dub!con at first but the internal dialogue shows hella consent, groping, fingering, a bit of praise and a bit of degradation, pet names like so many of them im not gonna list them all almost too many pet names if you believe in such a thing, grinding, oral male receiving, deep throating

Masterlist

You’re a good person—hell, a great person even. You give your spare change to homeless people, you donate to the puppy shelter every once in a while, you hold your friend’s hair back when they’re throwing up in the back of the club. You’re definitely not the type of person who deserves to be stranded in the middle of nowhere, sweating buckets despite wearing nothing but a spaghetti strap tank and the tiniest pair of shorts you own. This feels like some kind of cosmic punishment.

It is, undoubtedly, the worst possible time for your car to stop working. You’d been putting off the usual checkups on your car for months, knowing full well it was overdue for an oil change, a tire rotation—or whatever men who know their way around a toolbox always say. Your ex used to handle all of that for you, always acting like it was his job to make sure your car ran smoothly. He was that kind of guy who would go out of his way to make your life easier—didn’t mean he was above cheating though.

So now, you’re stuck in your geriatric Honda Civic, the AC busted and the engine refusing to start.

After a few minutes of trying to will it back to life, it’s clear you’re stranded.

You step out of the car, and the heat hits you like a goddamn slap to the face. The road’s deserted, no signs of life for miles, and of course, your phone has no signal. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. You glance down the road, hoping for a miracle, when you spot the rough outline of a truck—a big one, maybe a sixteen-wheeler—coming up in the distance.

Relief washes over you for about two seconds before your brain kicks in, running through every horror movie scenario. But it’s not like you’ve got a buffet of options, so you throw up your hand, waving the truck down as it rolls closer.

It’s a beat-up old thing, paint chipped and covered in dust, but it comes to a slow stop right behind your car. The door creaks open, and out steps a man.

He’s tall, broad, with a face lined with age and tan from long days under the sun. The net cap he wears lets a few of his longer dark curls peek out, the front pieces overpowered by graying hair. He sports a faded plaid shirt and jeans, a pair of well-worn boots kicking up dust as he steps toward you. His dark, intense eyes size you up like you’re part of the landscape he’s used to navigating.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” His voice is deep and gravelly, but the drawl is the star of the show, thick and sweet like honey.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Car broke down. Won’t start. No service either.”

He nods slowly, like this is exactly the kind of situation he expects to find out here. “Well, good thing I’m passin’ through.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little at that, but desperation makes you bite your tongue. “Think you could take a look?”

He stares at you for a moment, long enough that you wonder if he’s going to offer any help at all. But then he lets out a low sigh, scratches the back of his neck, and walks over to your car, popping the hood like it’s second nature.

For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of him tinkering under the hood, the occasional grunt or muttered curse as he checks things out. You stand there awkwardly, feeling the heat bearing down on you, watching as beads of sweat gather at the back of his neck.

Finally, he steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Shit’s runnin’ on fumes. When’s the last time you had it serviced?””

You shift, feeling stupid. “A while. My ex used to handle it, and, uh… I’ve been busy.”

He gives you a look, something between amusement and pity, before shaking his head. He leans against the car, arms crossed. “I can tow you to a shop in the next town, but it gon’ be a ride.”

You blink up at him, surprised at his offer. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah,” he says, with a shrug, “I’m headin’ that way anyway.”

He moves back to his truck, grabbing a few chains and a tow hitch from the back. Within minutes, he’s hooking up your beat-up Honda Civic to the rear of his truck, working with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before.

“You sure this is safe?” you ask, watching him as he tightens the last chain.

“As safe as it’s gonna get,” he replies with a shrug, brushing the dust from his hands. “Ain’t no mechanic shop out here, so this’ll do ‘til we get to the next town.”

You hesitate, then eye him. “You’re not gonna, like, chop me up and throw me in a ditch, are you?”

He chuckles at that, a nice gravely sound. “If I was, don’t think I’d tell ya, sugar. But no, I ain’t in the business of chopping people up.”

You look at him for a bit longer before sighing. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

He turns, heading back to his truck, his broad back facing you and making it a hell of a lot harder to concentrate

“Name’s Joel, by the way,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say, stepping up into the truck’s cab, the cool air from his AC hitting you like a blessing. Maybe your luck hasn’t run out just yet.

You sink back into the seat as he climbs up on his side of the cab, letting the icy air wash over you. There’s something else prickling at your senses though—something that has nothing to do with the temperature. It’s him.

Joel’s glances are obvious, a little too long, lingering like he’s sizing you up. Normally, it’d make you roll your eyes, maybe even tell him off. Old guy like him eyeing you up is nothing you’re unfamiliar with. But today? With the way your body feels sticky and tired, and the way the breakup has left you all out of sorts… you’re almost enjoying it.

You’ve been craving attention and the shitty one night stands with guys from dating apps have done nothing to satiate that need. It’s been months since anyone has touched you and that rational part of your brain that would be yelling at you to be aware of the sleazy old trucker who just picked you off of the side of the road is sounding real quiet right now.

“So…” His voice pulls you from your thoughts as he shifts in his seat, resting one hand lazily on the wheel. “Where you headed?”

You hesitate, eyes on the road ahead. “Just… trying to get home.”

He hums, slow and deliberate. “Home, huh? Got anyone waitin’ on you there? Boyfriend?”

The word slices through you, sharper than you expected. You tighten your jaw, glancing out the window. “No. Not anymore.”

Joel makes a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. “Well, ain’t that a shame. Pretty thing like you, all alone.”

You should hate the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker toward you like he’s just waiting for an opening. But instead, there’s a strange warmth pooling in your stomach, your pulse picking up in a way you’re not proud of. You shift in your seat, crossing your legs like it’ll somehow tamp down the growing tension in your body. He doesn’t miss it, his smirk growing a little wider.

“That line work on most girls?” you quip, trying to keep things light.

Joel chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “Depends on the girl. But you look a little… flustered.”

Your cheeks heat up, and it’s not just the sun this time. “I’m not flustered.”

“Sure about that, darlin’?”

You glare at the open road, biting your lip as you try to ignore the way his words are messing with your head—and your body. It’s been way too long since anyone’s looked at you like this. Really looked at you.

The silence stretches out as the truck rumbles along the deserted road. You try to focus on anything but the tension in the air and find it’s impossible. His presence feels inescapable, it fills the cab wrapping around you, pressing down on every nerve.

“You never told me,” Joel says after a while, breaking the quiet. “Where’s home?”

“Texas,” you say quietly, your voice a little steadier now. “But I’m not in any rush to get back.”

“Family trouble?” he asks, his eyes flicking toward you again.

“Something like that,” you mutter. “It’s complicated.”

He hums in response. “Don’t I know it.”

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs, catching Joel watching you out of the corner of his eye. His gaze lingers a little too long on your bare thighs, and there’s a flicker of something dark passing over his face, but he says nothing.

You want to ignore it—God, you should ignore it—especially since you’re stuck with him for a while longer. But the rising heat in your body and the quickening pulse beneath your skin make it hard to think straight, harder still to make good decisions.

So you bite.

“You gonna keep staring, or is this part of your charm routine?” You cock a brow, trying to ignore the way warmth crawls up your neck.

A slow smirk curls at his lips, but he doesn’t look away. If anything, he leans in closer, his hand resting just near your leg, making the air between you buzz. “You think I’m layin’ it on too thick?”

“Little bit,” you quip back, though your voice betrays you with how soft it comes out. You bite your lip, trying to stay sharp, but his eyes flick down to the movement, and the pulsing need low in your stomach tightens. “It’s not working, though.”

His smirk widens, like he’s enjoying this far too much. “Funny. Seems to me it’s workin’ just fine.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way your heart races when he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your leg. The touch is light, almost casual, but it’s enough to send a shiver racing up your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

“You can roll your eyes all you want, doll. It don’t change the fact I can see what you need, clear as day,” he purrs, his voice dropping lower.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you snap back, though your words lack the heat you want them to have.

“Little bit of attention.”

He reads you too well. It drives you insane. “I don’t need anything from you. Just get me where I need to go.”

A quiet chuckle rumbles from his chest. “That so? ’Cause the way you’ve been shiftin’ in that seat says otherwise.”

You bristle at his words, but the truth sticks like a thorn. There’s a reason you haven’t told him to stop, a reason you haven’t shut this down. You’re tired, frustrated, and the way his eyes keep grazing over you… you can’t stop wondering how easy it’d be to let him pull you under, to let him take all your worries away.

“You’re losing it, old man,” you shoot back, even though you know it’s a losing game. He sees right through you, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna make it easy.

“Am I?” he purrs, his hand sliding up to rest fully on your thigh. “So, you don’t want me touching you like this, darlin’?”

The way he says it—slow, deliberate, laced with that sweet, thick accent—it’s all innocence, even though everything about it screams otherwise. You know you’ll be hearing that “darlin’” in your head later, when you’re playing with yourself.

You smirk, giving him a little more rope. “I didn’t say that.”

He hums, eyes flicking between the road and your legs. “And I’m guessin’ you wouldn’t say a word if I moved my hand higher, would you?”

Your legs part just slightly, almost like an instinct. Barely noticeable to anyone else. But not to Joel.

“Look at you,” he drawls, a shit-eating smirk spreading across his lips. “Already makin’ it easier for me.”

You’re about to fire back, ready to keep this banter rolling, when his fingers slide higher. A soft sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“You ready to stop actin’ up, or we still playin’ cat and mouse, pretty girl?” His eyes lock on yours, dark and unwavering.

Your pulse quickens at the challenge in his voice, your breath catching in your throat. His fingers are still on your thigh, warm and rough, and it’s messing with your head. You know you should stop this now, make him pull his hand back, but you’re not sure if that’s what you want.

“I’m not acting up,” you murmur, trying to hold on to some sense of control, even though his touch is making that damn near impossible.

His grin widens, like he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “Mhm, sure you ain’t.”

You glare at him, but it’s weak. Pathetic, really, and the worst part is he knows it. He knows how to get under your skin even though he has known you for half an hour, knows exactly what buttons to push to unravel you just enough to keep you hanging on.

“I mean it,” you snap, though your voice wavers. His hand shifts slightly on your thigh, fingers curling just enough to make your stomach twist into knots.

“I wanna believe you,” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that vibrates through you, all the way down to where you’re aching for him to touch you. He leans in a little more, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell that familiar scent of worn leather and something dark and intoxicating. “But you keep lettin’ me touch you. Kinda sends a different message, don’t you think?”

Your heart’s pounding in your chest, the steady rhythm of it loud in your ears. You don’t know how to answer, don’t know if you want to answer. Every rational thought in your head is telling you to stop, but your body isn’t listening.

Instead, you shift slightly, your leg pressing into his hand, just enough to encourage him to keep going. His eyes darken, and a slow, dangerous smile tugs at his lips.

“Thought so,” he mutters, and then his fingers start to move again, sliding higher, testing the boundaries you haven’t set.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the sigh that’s clawing its way up your throat, but it slips through anyway. He hears it, of course he does, and the satisfied gleam in his eyes makes your face flush with heat.

“You wanna tell me to stop, now’s your chance,” he murmurs, his voice soft but carrying an edge of challenge, like he knows damn well you’re not going to.

His gaze shifts between the road and you and it almost seems like every time those eyes are back on you they become darker.

You glance at him, your heart in your throat, and there’s that flicker of hesitation—you should say something, should stop this before it goes any further—but the way his fingers are brushing higher, dangerously close to the ache between your legs, makes it impossible to think straight.

So you just meet his gaze, and you don’t say a word.

His smirk grows, and his hand drifts even higher. “Good girl.” This time he fully gropes your thigh, groaning like he’s been waiting to unleash this. “You wanna take these off for me, sweetheart? Let me give you as much attention as you want.”

He must have some psychic hold on you because you follow his instructions with no hesitation this time. Your fingers eagerly unbotton your shorts and pull the zipper down, lifting your hips to shimmy them down.

He looks at you for a lot longe than he should taking into account he’s currently driving a beast of a vehicle. “Lord above… you’re a sight and a half, darlin’”

He goes back to massaging your thigh, making circles with his thick fingers, going each time higher. Once he reaches your panties he stops and just rests his hand there, right at the edge of where you want him most. His fingers teasingly brush the fabric, enough to make you gasp, but he doesn’t go any further.

“You’re gonna have to ask for it,” he rasps, his voice thick with something darker now. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

His words are like a key turning in a lock, and your resistance crumbles. You can’t deny it anymore, not when his hand is right there, so close to what you need, your entire body burning up under his touch.

“Joel…” you whisper, your voice almost pleading now, barely more than a breath.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand pressing a little more firmly, his fingers tracing along the outline of your heat through the fabric. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

Your breath stutters, and your hips shift on their own, pressing into his hand. You’re barely hanging on, the tension between you two crackling like a live wire, but he’s still holding back, waiting for you to give in completely.

“Please…” you finally manage, the word spilling out before you can stop it. It’s humiliating and liberating all at once.

“Please what?”

You let out the shadow of a moan. “Please touch me.”

Joel’s hand slips under the fabric, his fingers finally finding your core, and the groan that escapes him sends a shockwave of heat straight to your core. “Good girl,” he breathes, his voice like gravel as his fingers start to move in slow, torturous circles.

Your head falls back against the seat, a whimper escaping your lips as he finally gives you what you’ve been craving. “Jesus, Joel…”

“Feels good, huh?” he rasps, his eyes flicking from the road to you, watching the way your body reacts to every touch, every motion of his hand. “Told you I know exactly what you need, baby.”

You’re melting under his touch, your body humming with the pressure of his fingers moving against you, his voice guiding you deeper into the haze of pleasure. You’re not even sure what’s more intoxicating—the way he’s touching you or the way he’s talking to you, that low, commanding tone unraveling you completely.

“That’s it, sweetness, grind on my fingers, make that little pussy feel good” Joel growls, having a harder time keeping his eyes on the road now.

“Fuck… that feels you good da-“ you stop yourself before you’re able to finish the word. Your ex didn’t like you calling him that, so you usually kept that particular kink under wraps, but something about Joel is making it surface back up.

He looks up at you, pupils blown out. “Say it… say wha you wanna say baby.”

You lose all restraint and moan loudly. “It feels so good, daddy.”

“That’s right, babygirl.” He moans “Daddy’s fingers make your pretty cunt fucking drip don’t they?”

His words send a wave of pleasure through your body, a mixture of shame and intense arousal surging in your chest. You’re too far gone to stop now, letting the haze of lust pull you under completely.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping out like a confession. “So fucking wet.”

Joel’s fingers move faster, rough and skilled, coaxing you into a rhythm that has you arching your back against the seat. His other hand grips the wheel tight, knuckles white, and you can tell he’s barely hanging onto his self-control, but that only makes it hotter.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ dream,” he growls, voice thick with desire. “Been wantin’ to ruin you since the minute you sat your pretty ass in this truck.”

The vulgarity, the way he talks to you—it should feel wrong, but instead, it’s like gasoline thrown on the fire already burning inside you. You grind down harder on his fingers, chasing the high he’s offering, the tension building fast in your core.

You glance over at him, his jaw tight, eyes darting between the road and you, and there’s something so filthy about the way he’s trying to keep it together while driving, the way his control is slipping. You want to push him, make him lose it completely.

“You’re losing it too,” you pant, breathless, pushing your hips into his hand. “Can’t even keep your eyes on the road, can you?”

His gaze snaps to yours, dark and predatory. “Careful. Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll pull this truck over.”

The threat in his voice makes you shiver, heat pooling low in your belly. You’re right on the edge, your body strung tight as a bow, every nerve lit up under his touch.

“Do it,” you challenge, voice breathless and wrecked.

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his hand gripping your thigh so hard it almost hurts. Without another word, he swerves the truck off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulls into a secluded spot off the highway.

Your heart is pounding, adrenaline mixing with the arousal as he throws the truck into park and turns to face you fully. The look in his eyes is feral, like he’s done holding back, and you brace yourself for what’s coming next.

“Such a little attention whore, baby,” he growls, unbuckling his seatbelt with one hand, the other still teasing you between your legs. “I’m all yours now.”

In one swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips, the weight of his hard length pressing against you through his jeans. He is big, a lot bigger than you expected and it makes your mouth water,almost like your body is showing you how badly you need him in a million and one ways.

His hands grip your hips possessively, eyes locking with yours as if daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate. You grind down on him, both of you letting out low moans at the contact. The friction sends sparks flying up your spine, and you can already tell this is about to be the kind of reckless, dirty, no-going-back encounter you’ve both been craving.

Joel’s hands slide up your back, fisting in your hair as he pulls you down to feast on your neck. His lips trail down, biting at the sensitive skin there, and it’s too much, too intense. You feel like you’re going to combust right here in his arms.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters against your skin, one hand slipping between you to push your panties aside, his fingers slipping through your slick heat again. “Filthy little slut, letting a stranger put his fingers inside you. Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name, pretty girl.”

Your hips buck against him, the promise of release so close you can taste it. “Fuck, Joel, please…”

“Try again. You know better.” his tone is firm and commanding, all the previous playfulness gone.

“Please daddy, let me come”

“That’s it,” he groans, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure, pushing you right to the edge. “Come for me, darlin’. Let me feel this tight little whole clench on my fingers.”

The way he says it with such authority, has you unraveling in his lap, your entire body trembling as you come hard against his hand. Your vision goes white, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

Joel watches you, his eyes hooded and hungry, soaking in every second of your release. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers until you’re shaking from the aftershocks, your body limp and boneless against him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied as he finally pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste you. “Tastes even better than I imagined.”

You’re still catching your breath, head buzzing from the intensity, but the way his hardness presses against you makes it clear you’re far from done. It’s not like those other times when finishing a guy felt like an obligation, when the effort barely felt worth it because they didn’t take the time to get you there first. But Joel? Joel made you come so hard you can’t help but want to return the favor. It’s not a chore—it’s something you crave.

“My turn,” you murmur, fingers already working at the button of his jeans.

His grip tightens on your hips, eyes darkening as he watches your hands move, but there’s a flicker of restraint. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. Can’t have this beast of a truck just parked in the middle of the road.”

You shift back onto your own seat, lifting your leg off his lap to give yourself the space you need. The desire to make him feel just as wrecked as you burns in your chest, so you lean down, your gaze steady on his as your fingers trail lower.

“You can drive,” you say, voice low, teasing. “I’m not stopping you.”

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his jaw ticking like he’s fighting with himself. For a second, you think he’s going to tell you to stop, but then he huffs out a breath, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “You’re trouble.”

You smile up at him as you feel him start the engine again, your hand slipping lower, teasing him through his jeans.

Joel’s breath hitches as your fingers brush against him, a low growl vibrating in his chest. His hand tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he tries to focus on the road, but you can tell he’s losing the battle.

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he tries to keep his cool, but you can see right through it. The way his body is responding to your touch, the way he’s barely holding it together, it only spurs you on.

You undo his jeans and pull the zipper down, feeling the heat radiating off him. His breath stutters, and his hand slips to grip the side of the seat, trying to ground himself as you free him from the confines of his jeans.

You wrap your hand around him, feeling how hard he is, how thick, and the groan that escapes his lips sends a thrill through you. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes flicking between the road and you, his control slipping more by the second.

You lower your head, your lips grazing his tip, and Joel’s entire body tenses. His hips buck up, instinctively searching for more, and you can’t help but smirk as you take him deeper into your mouth.

“Holy shit,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, his hand instinctively flying to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

But even as he says it, there’s no hint of him wanting you to stop. He keeps urging you on in slow, measured strokes. The tension in him is palpable, and you can feel the way his control is fraying with every flick of your tongue, every inch you take him deeper.

His breathing grows ragged, and he glances down at you, eyes dark with heat and disbelief. “You’re so pretty with a fat cock stuffed in your mouth baby, look at you ”

You hum around him, the vibration making his hips jerk again, and the low groan that rips from his throat sends a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through you. He’s unraveling, right in front of you, and you’re loving every second of it.

You pick up the pace, your hand working him in tandem with your mouth, and Joel’s growl turns guttural, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Right there, darlin’ girl, don’t stop…” he hisses, head tipping back slightly as his hips move in time with your rhythm, chasing the release that’s so damn close.

His eyes flick between the road and you, pupils blown, struggling to stay on course even as his focus is being torn apart by you.

“Fuck, baby… I’m not gonna last if you keep—” He cuts himself off with a harsh groan, his hips bucking again, muscles taut and trembling as he loses the last shred of his composure. He’s completely at your mercy now, and it’s making him wild, his control slipping fast.

You don’t let up, your hand dropping lower to play with his balls, and he’s right on the edge, teetering dangerously close. His breath comes in ragged bursts, and his body tightens under you, his hips jerking harder, more desperate now.

“Where do you want it, baby?”

Instead of answering you take him deeper down your throat, your nose burrowing in the dark curls at the base of his cock, his smell so musky and intoxicating it makes you dizzy.

“Shit, shit—” Joel’s voice is a strangled growl, and then you feel him pulse in your mouth, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he finally comes undone. He’s barely holding onto the wheel, the truck swerving just enough to make your heart race, but it’s clear he’s past caring. He spills hot and hard into your mouth, the sound of his release drowned out by the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

You keep going, milking him for every last bit, until he’s trembling beneath you, his breathing ragged and uneven. When you finally pull away, he’s still gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough and wrecked. His eyes flick down to you, wild and wide, before darting back to the road. He lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Best hitchhiker I’ve ever picked up, that’s for damn sure.”

As if on cue, the truck finally pulls into the shop, the hum of the engine fading, the weight of what just happened still hung thick between you two. Joel cuts the ignition, his hand lingering on the key for a beat too long, like he wasn’t quite ready to step back into reality. He realizes his now soft cock is still out and starts to zip himself back up.

You try to gather yourself, smoothing your clothes and brushing a hand through your hair as if it’d erase everything that had gone down on that highway. You can tell it’s gonna stick with you for a good while longer though.

Joel clears his throat, glancing over at you with a look that was somehow both satisfied and conflicted. "Well, we’re here," he mutters, but his hand was already fishing in his back pocket for something. "Here." He hands you a crumpled business card, his name scrawled across it with a number underneath. "In case you run into any more car trouble or, y'know... anything else."

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he knows damn well this had nothing to do with the rugged old thing and everything to do with the heat still simmering between you. You take the card, trying to hide the smirk tugging at your lips.

"Thanks," you reply, pocketing it casually, though the way your heart raced gave you away. "For… you know, all of it."

He just gives you that signature look of his—half-smirk, half-smolder—and with that, you slide out of the truck, legs still feeling like jelly as you walked away. You didn't even need to turn around to know his eyes were glued to your retreating figure.

#joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller #trucker!joel #joel smut #joel miller smut #joel x reader smut

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nalyra-dreaming · 3 days

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Hi,if I understand right Loustat's problems come from Louis refusing to drink blood right? But why is Louis refusing to drink from humans? It's not like he really care about other humans,so is he being just completely stubborn to piss Lestat?

... welllll.... it's one of the big problems, the vicious circle that came with the negation of intimacy, yes.

Louis... does not stop drinking from humans because he loves them so much, or because he wants to be "ethical". Book canonically Louis thought it would be more fitting to "work oneself up" so to say, and in the show his diet... is one of the few things Louis has full control over in his life.

He does it not (only) to "piss off Lestat", I think that is not it. I think it is a try at regaining control itself.

Louis threw himself into the relationship with Lestat, thinking it would free him, since that is part of the offer - and Lestat in turn thought it would, since it did free Gabrielle(!) - but of course it could not, not in the way Louis (and Lestat) hoped it would. And the first few years were amazing, and only when the disconnect started to come - namely the "rite of passage" that Lestat addressed in episode 2(!) - then Louis started to spiral a bit, start to doubt, start to... need control again.

And the feeding... was one of the few things he had full control over.

In the books there is also the "killing evil doers" only vs innocent blood "discussion" that the vampires engage in. Iirc the show runners said they gave the "impulse" for that to Louis here, so that Lestat "learns" that from him, so that then plays into it as well, of course.

Only - as seen also in the show - "killing only evil doers" is easier said than done, and... in the books it takes until the last book until they find a more or less practical way of doing it. *coughs* By older vampires hunting the evil doers and keeping them in dungeons for easier feeding *coughs* (not kidding).

And since "only evil doers" is so difficult to implement that also plays into Louis' decision to just... stop.

So.... it's complicated, as everything on this show is^^.

#Anonymous #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #loustat

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girliism · 9 hours

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a continuation of this

you and patrick orbited around each other that following week. you refused to speak to him. you felt humiliated, having to see her, interact with her, and with your new found realization you wondered how had you not seen it before? the less than platonic touches that lingered too long, how patrick seemed to hang onto her every word. the tension between the two of you was suffocating and impossible to ignore. “practice might run late tonight.” your friend eyed the both you. “ok.” you answered dryly. patrick placed a hesitant and awkward kiss on your head before leaving. your friend cleared her throat. “so, what’s going on with you two.” you looked at her. “what do you mean.” you knew what she meant. “nothing just you guys seem weird.” she shrugged. but you couldn’t avoid him forever, i mean you guys lived in the same house. “couldn’t sleep?” you were standing at the counter when patrick walked into the kitchen. you shook your head. “never realized how big our bed is.” patrick has sleeping in the guest bed. the tall brunette came to stand next to you. “don’t you think we should talk.” you sighed and looked up at him. “i’m tired, patrick.” you grabbed the tea you were brewing, going to make your way back upstairs before his voice stopped you. “are you gonna leave me?” his question rattled around in your head. would you? over something he said ment nothing. except sex always ment something.

“that depends entirely on you.” you mumble. “what?” turn to face him. “i see the you look at her patrick.” he huffed. “and don’t tell me it doesn’t mean anything because it does.” patrick ran his hand through his hair. “when can we let this go? it was mistake that i am forever sorry about, but you can’t keep punishing me.” he defended himself. you let out a breathy laugh. “you went out of your way to have sex with her patrick, that doesn’t sound like a “mistake” to me.” patrick rubbed his hands over his face, throwing his head back. “well it was.” his words muffled by his hands over his face. why couldn’t you just believe him. “are you in love with her?” patrick just looked at you. was he? or was this merely a crush, some sort of fleeting infatuation for his past lover. “you are my wife.” you closed your eyes ignoring how he ignored the question. “am i? because it’s like i have to beg for your attention, while she could call you and you’re out the door.” you said, tears building up, patrick walked up to you placing his hands on your shoulders. “i wanna make this work, i wanna put this behind us. please.”

so you guys made it work. patrick gave himself boundaries when it came to tashi, no more late night practices or business dinners alone. he spent more time with you, taking you on dates more which felt awkward at first having to start over. there was even a redo on family pizza night which the kids loved, though it brought back bittersweet memories for you. “dad, look i made a tennis ball pizza.” your son laughed. with patrick’s final season starting soon he was gonna be on the road, alone, with tashi. “patrick?” you whispered. it was the middle of the night but you couldn’t sleep, you kept rolling around your wedding ring, the piece of jewelry that once felt like a second skin now sometimes felt heavy. “hm.” he hummed. “will i be able to trust you on tour?” patrick rolled to lie on his back, placing his hand in yours. “of course.” you let out a deep sigh, squeezing lightly at his hand

patrick ended winning the us opening he had previously lost, announcing his retirement from tennis thanking both you and tashi for getting him here.

( i think reader staying with patrick and them working it out was the more realistic approach.)

#girliism #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig angst

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theoutcastrogue · 1 day

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I've come across many posts on tumblr claiming or taking for granted that there's a d&d 5e play Culture™ out there where the dm is expected to do all the work, to the point of players NOT being expected to learn the rules, not even how their own characters work mechanically.

This is several light years away from my personal experience. Of course, I'd never generalise or extrapolate anything at all from my personal experience, so I'm not presenting this as anecdotal evidence to the contrary of the claim. But I would ask for (similarly non-anecdotal) evidence to the support of the claim. Who THE FUCK are these people who think it's normal to not even try to learn the rules of the game they're playing? Where do they congregate? Are they somewhere online?

The 5e-related online spaces which I visit from time to time (roleplaying forums, reddit, etc) are, broadly speaking, Not Like That. Sometimes they're the opposite, and there's a lot of rules-lawyering going on. Sometimes there'll be a story about a Problem Player who refuses to learn their own character's abilities, but, and this is very important, it isn't presented as a norm, as THE Culture™. It's presented as a faux pas, a deviation from the norm. And I've NEVER come across such a story told from the Clueless Player's perspective. Like, I've never seen anyone go "lol my DM expects me to know what my character can do, that's your job, stupid!".

But just because I haven't seen it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Perhaps the internet is full of stuff like that. So I ask all of you, and especially those who do consider this phenomenon "a 5e culture", where is it? Where do I find it? (I'm curious!) Are there like discord servers dedicated to celebrating your own ignorance at the expense of your poor dm?

Or do we have scattered anecdotal evidence and personal horror stories here and there, which somehow led to the theory that this a whole-ass 5e Culture™?

Note: I'm assuming we're talking about deliberate ignorance. No one should expect a first-time player to know and remember everything. Rules mastery comes over time, with experience. Even the most experienced and engaged player/dm will occasionally forget, misremember, or misunderstand the rules. (It's d&d! There's a fuckton of them!) Some rules slip through the cracks because the books aren't well-written (the best feature of the 2024 PHB is undoubtedly the Rules Glossary). And if you don't play regularly, if there's a long gap between sessions, if you're very busy or distracted or stressed IRL, of course it's more likely to forget things. So I'm not talking about any of this, I'm only referring to stories about players who clearly think it's not their job to learn the rules of the game.

#d&d #5e #how to rogue #roleplaying #trs

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i-like-forcefem · 1 day

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PURELY hypothetically speaking, how EXACTLY would you go about forcefemming a guy who’s sooo masc, like he thinks he’s the ALPHA SHIT, he thinks he pulls all the ladies and is the most manly man to ever man… and turning “him” into an adorable little girly princess :3c asking for a friend

For a hard boiled egg like this it’s very important to get her alone in an isolated location for an extended period of time! It always takes a little longer then they’ve got pride, but honestly that makes it so so much more fun when they crack

It’s a bit of a staple, but I think I’ll use my Basement, yes it’s generic, but it’s tried and true, and a girl like this isn’t a time to experiment

Getting her to the basement is usually easy enough, just invite her over for tea or something and apply a little posion of your choice that will have her immobilised, sleepy pills work, but I personally prefer it when you can see the fear in her eyes when they get fully paralysed

I always have my basement prepared for new arrivals, this means a firm lock, and plenty of hand cuffs around the walls and girly furniture for if I want to move her around

The first time she wakes up is always so important and so so fun, so I’ll pick out a good spot to tie her up, I think the plushy couch would be good for this cutie, and make sure to pick a good outfit

For a girl like this I think it’d be best to start with her in just a pair of pink panties, just being handcuffed in a hugging position with a plushy against her skin should be enough embarrassment for the wake up, I’ll also be sure to use my princess gag just to make her first impressions extra cute as she makes muffled screeches

Then I’ll wait till she wakes up, I usually monitor a camera from outside the room and wait to enter, I want her to get a feel for the room and her situation before she sees me, 2 minutes is usually enough for her to glance around the overly girly room, notice she’s tied up, and to start her muffled screams

Then I’ll calmly enter and tell her how she’s my doll now, she’ll have objections of course, being a big bugle “man”, but it’s pretty hard to do anything about your situation when tied up like that

And then I’ll play it slow

I think I can have her docile by the end of the day, dress her up in her first dress (the basement can get very cold so if she doesn’t want to wear her dress that’s fine by me, but she’ll give in by the end of the second day, and to survive that long I’ll probably get some adorable footage of her willingly snuggling up with her many many plushies, hard to think a “man” would do that)

Any food I give her will obviously have hrt inserted into it, but in this case in particular I want to try something new, next to her (estrogen filled) meals I’ll also give her some placebo pills I’ll tell her are actually hrt, and if she’s a Good Girl and takes her pills she’ll be rewarded

Obviously she’ll refuse at first, willingly taking pills is one of the hardest milestones for a girl to pass

But always giving her the option always gives me to opportunity to punish her, and to tell her just how easy it’d be if she just submitted, became my pretty little girl

Now some of the girls have a surprising amount of determination to not become happy, so this might take a while, which is why I’ll give her her hrt anyway

Since it will be so so fun to tease her for it, I could maybe even gaslight her into thinking she might be taking the pills anyway, or her body wants to become a girl so so bad that’s it’s making estrogen all on its own

You’d be surprised how much gaslighting you can get away with if you’re a persons only outside contact

So… I’ve got some plans to say the least!!! I’ve got a whole laundry list of activities we could try every week to keep it fresh (from shock collars to vibrators to bondage, to “toy” pink weightlifting products that are 10 times the weight it says on the box, I will have so much fun breaking her :3)

Now do you have any idea where this hypothetical person is? And do they prefer tea or coffee?

#we also have water #but it doesn’t hide the taste of posion well #so then ill just get my hands dirty and cuff you while you’re still conscious #don’t worry I’m stronger then I look :3 #.#forcefem #i-like-talking #asks open!#..#no proof reading for this one either x3 #maybe I should do a post every 2 days so that I can get better ones out there?#hmmm #we’ll see #please tell me what you think of this!!!

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stellocchia · 1 day

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Killer being incredibly touch-starved is something I've been thinking about for a while. We know very little about monster biology, let alone Killer's who's something in between, so I'm gonna base this on the effect of touch deprivation in the real world (which, yes, is a very real and highly studied thing. And no, the people using it as an excuse for why they're 'owed sex' are still full of shit, because to the human brain the kind of touch, as long as it's positive and well received, doesn't make a difference).

Killer, for his whole time with both Chara and Nightmare, is deprived of any positive touch. Nightmare stabbing him and forcefully manipulating his soul certainly doesn't count as positive, and most Chara did was cut him up for fun (and out of curiosity).

There is a chance for him to receive some affection in an expanded Nightmare's gang situation, as I refuse to believe that people stuck in such awful conditions together would not develop a certain degree of closeness. Still, they live under Nightmare, so they probably cannot afford to indulge in any form of comfort too much. And I don't doubt that, in such a tense situation, fights would also break out often. Meaning he'd most likely get more gaster blasters to the face than pats on the back.

With that out of the way, here are some of the symptoms Killer may experience:

Overwhelming loneliness

Strong cravings for affection

Feelings of depression

Anxiety

Heightened levels of Stress

Difficulty sleeping

Attachment avoidance patterns

He'd also most likely do things to emulate the feeling of touch like cuddling his cats a lot, laying under whatever heavy thing he can find, and taking hot showers/baths. After all, this is Killer we're talking about. These are a lot of feelings and uncomfortable sensations that are entirely out of his control, he's definitely gonna try and reign them in.

I do think that, of course, this would affect every Stage differently. And they'd probably go about dealing with it differently.

Stage 1 would have a conflicted relationship with touch. On one hand, it's hard for him to keep from showing the discomfort he's feeling due to the touch deprivation. On the other, he also always struggles with feelings of guilt regarding the fact that, in his mind, he put himself in this situation. He probably wouldn't think he deserves to feel better. And definitely wouldn't outright ask for a hug or to hold hands unless he was desperate.

He'd probably try to deal with it quietly. Probably running the shower as hot as it can get and hoping it gets rid of the itch in his bones. He has probably begged both Chara and Nightmare for affection before, though I doubt that ended well. I think Chara just pushed him away in Disgust, Nightmare probably made him regret asking.

I feel like later on with Color he's probably gonna need constant reassurances and frequent gentle reminders that he can ask for a hug whenever. And, if that feels like too much, he can sit close to Color, shoulder to shoulder. They can hold hands, and, when that feels like too much, they can interlock pinkies. There are ways for them to navigate around this. And I think Color would be happy to help from the get-go with him.

Meanwhile, with Stage 2 I've always felt like they probably dislike touch (something something they don't allow themselves to show any degree of vulnerability and never let go of control. Both things that would happen if they indulge in any amount of physical affection). To be clear, this does not mean that they're immune to the consequences of touch deprivation, it just means that dealing with them will be even harder for them.

During their time with Chara and Nightmare they'd probably use a lot of the good old "gaslighting themselves into thinking that everything is okay" method. Similarly to how they did with convincing themselves that they actually enjoy being hurt on the regular, eventually, they'd probably start believing it. Also, they'd be highly reliant on their cats if they have any around. Cuddling them does soothe a lot of the symptoms for quite a while, and those little balls of fur at least are not gonna backstab them.

Even once they're with Color, I still feel like Stage 2 would rather cuddle with animals than with other monsters or humans. They'd just be far more free to do so without the threat of Nightmare killing those little critters hanging over their head. Also! A lot of types of dance and stuff like theater can help stave off the touch starvation in a way that may feel more comfortable to them. In a lot of those situations, there's a ton of touch involved, but as they'd be able to remain professional about it, it would probably feel less like giving up control and showing weakness than the alternative of being physically affectionate with Color.

Stage 3 is an interesting one. I feel like it would be the most open to admitting (at least to itself) that they have an issue. However, to solve said issue would mean putting the body in danger and that's not something it's willing to do.

Still, it would try to mitigate the discomfort as much as it can. Trying to find soft things to wrap the body up tightly with. Trying to find small places where it can feel somewhat compressed. It would never try to ask either Nightmare or Chara for help. Ever. It hates them with a burning passion and, besides, it's fully aware that, whatever is wrong with them, is most likely the fault of those two.

It probably also would regard Color with distrust at first, but, eventually, as it comes to trust him, it probably would be more than happy to get some cuddles in with him. I do think its favorite thing would be to sleep all curled up around one another in whatever safe den it has built. And, of course, as it builds trust with more people, those people are gonna be let in too. Though that's gonna take time, because for Stage 3 to trust anyone, Stage 2 and Stage 1 have to trust them first.

Stage 4 my boy... it's suffering. Not only can it not remember any instances of kindness, however rare, the other 3 may have received, but it is also the one that would struggle the most receiving any kind of genuine help even after running away with Color. And, before that, it basically just gets treated like a dog. Though, no matter how much he'd want it, the treat for a job well done is never a hug or a pat on the head for it. Usually, it's just it being allowed some basic necessities like water, food, maybe even sleep if things went particularly well.

And it wouldn't try to soothe any of its needs by itself. Just like it doesn't eat, drink, or sleep if it's not explicitly allowed. If Nightmare or Chara wanted it to get a hot shower or some cuddles from its feline friends, they would have said it. Since they didn't clearly it's against the will of the Players, as they're the Players' mouthpieces. The same would go for Color not saying anything.

And, here's the thing, Color would struggle to show kindness to Stage 4 at first. Both because it starts off as hostile as it doesn't initially recognize him as an owner and because there is something fundamentally unsettling about a being so divorced from humanity and monsterkind wearing the face of his friend. Stage 4's biggest downfall is the fact that it is so other that even the kindest souls would struggle to not dehumanize it. It was created to be a tool and it doesn't recognize itself as anything more than that, so others often fall into the trap of doing the same.

Anyway, Stage 4 would straight-up weep the first time it gets a hug. And, seeing that, Color would undoubtedly feel like shit for ever thinking that Stage 4 wasn't just as lonely, hurt, and deserving of kindness as the other Stages.

#utmv #utmv headcanons #sans aus #undertale aus #nightmare's gang #killer sans #corrupted nightmare sans #nightmare sans #something new chara #color sans #color spectrum duo #killer sans' stages #long post #cw abuse #cw neglect #was this whole post made to yet again push my stage 4 is a wet cat propaganda?#perhaps...#I just need someone to love that guy

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f1-unpopularopinions · 2 days

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Okay this is a rant

Fans project onto the drivers waaaaaay too much. They push their own emotions, personalities, and points of view on whichever driver is their favorite and try to force everything they say and do to fit that. It’s why there is so much Lando and Oscar hate right now. The fans are desperate for those two to be what they want them to be, usually soft uwu boys. And the minute they deviated away from it, especially Lando, everyone labeled them as evil or arrogant. I’m not even a Lando or Oscar fan and I can see that.

Famously all drivers are extremely competitive, willing to do whatever it takes, think theyre the best, and are assholes on the track. You can’t be in f1 without those traits. But so many fans refuse to admit that and the minute it becomes clear that this is the truth and not whatever fantasy they created, they freak. It’s beyond ridiculous. You should not be a fan of f1 if you can’t handle this. Cause yes, the drivers will say rude things, they will be arrogant about their skills, they will be bitchy about team orders, they will get pissy when they lose, they will usually not get along with their teammate, they will snipe at each other in the press, they will push too hard and hit each other on track and then claim it wasn’t their fault. That’s what happens. That’s fucking f1.

I’ve watched this sport get slowly santitized as the years go on, as new fans come in and decide the things they don’t like must be changed. It’s ridiculous. So now all teammates have to be best friends. So now team orders are evil. So now a driver being upset they didn’t win in ungrateful. So now a team is heartless for cutting an underperforming driver loose. So now all the drivers must be perfectly behaved little princes who are always happy, and grateful, and kind. I cannot imagine how frustrating and demeaning that is for them. I would rip out my own hair if people treated me like that. But no, if a driver expressed frustration with this I can almost guarantee fans would call them spoiled or ungrateful.

And on top of that all they have to contain, you have cameras shoved in their faces wherever they go. Any video you find of a driver, and their are at least five cameras not even a foot away from them. And people scream in their face, and grab them, and expect them to give them time because theyre a fan. Every movement is scrutinized, their facial expression and body language are over analyzed, people make assumptions about their relationships and lives, and they can’t say boo about it. It’s been like this to a smaller extent for years of course but it’s just exploded since honestly DTS. If I had 30 people shoving merch at me screaming my name, I signed it, and then some asshole on the internet made a whole video about how I wasn’t pleasant enough when I was getting mobbed and treated like a commodity I would explode.

I guess to finish off this super long take, I just want to say that f1 drivers will never be what you want them to be. So either fix your expectations and let them be human or stop fucking watching.

Send us your unpopular F1 opinions!

#i did look for “f1+puppets”#f1 unpopular opinions #f1 #oscar piastri #lando norris

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thesleepyfable · 2 days

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~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 12: ~

Operation Spy Part 1:

Here we go. The moment we've all been waiting for. The rescue. How will it go? Knowing this lot...

Step 1. Grab the yellow paint and mark the infected containers.

Step 2. Load the infected inside.

Step 3. Get back to the mainland.

Step 4. ...

Well, we'll see what happens afterwards.

Brodie and Roper waited at the Under Rig. They watched the horizon. An outline of a cargo ship came into view. It was a strange feeling. They were all so relieved because this was it - they were going home - but how can you just walk away from this? Easy. You don't.

The pair had to count their lucky stars. They weren't dead like Gregor or turned into something no one thought possible like Rennick. They can still have a normal life. Until then, they just had to go through an investigation, followed by a debriefing and possible firing from Cadal to cover their own arse. It's not like anyone here would care. If Cadal was thinking about sending anyone here to another rig, then they had another thing coming.

'So, what's your plan, Roper?'

'I think I'm going to take myself and the misses on that long needed holiday to Spain. What about you?'

'Take myself and Raffs back to Skye and...'Brodie shrugged. 'I dunno. Rethink my life choices.'

Roper wasn't daft. He was basically the crew's therapist when he wasn't manning Marine Control, and he knew something was bothering Brodie. Which was an oddity in and of itself because nothing bothered him. He was a father figure to most of the younger lads here, especially Raffs. Brodie's known him since he was a child. Roper's eyes lingered towards Brodie's crossed arms. His hands gripped to the sleeves as if he were hanging onto them for dear life. His breathing was laboured, which he'd just pass off as the cold.

'Don't blame yourself,' Roper said. Brodie's shoulders and jaw tensed. 'Raffs is fine. You're fine.'

'I know.' Brodie spoke through gritted teeth. 'But, I shouldn't have let him go down there.'

'He wasn't infected.'

'The lad wasn't ready.'

'Yes, he was, Brods. If none of this happened, he'd be going head first back into that diving bell. Give him time. He'll tell you what he wants.'

Of course, Roper was right, and with a supportive pat on the shoulder, he made his way to the Deck for an update. Brodie continued to watch the cargo ship come into view and took a deep breath to help himself relax.

'He's right.' Raffs' voice broke Brodie out of his spell. The pair had failed to notice that the young man was just around the corner. He approached and leaned against the railing. He seemed happier today. More relaxed. His wide eyes were calm, and his hands weren't shaking. 'I mean - Yeah, I was terrified, but I knew I was safe. Plus, I did hit my head in there. Of course, I'm going to be shak-'

Brodie didn't let Raffs finish his sentence. He just grabbed the young man he saw as his son and held him close. Raffs knew what this was. He's felt this crushing hug before, where Brodie kept him close and refused to let go. The last time he felt it was when Raffs nearly fell down the stairs carrying one side of a dresser. You couldn't fight it either. Any second now...

'I'm sorry.'

There it is.

Raffs returned the hug, though he could never have the strength of Brodie. 'I'm fine,' he said with reassurance whilst he pulled away. 'Just needed to wrap my head around all this.' Brodie's heard that excuse before, but he'll take his word for it. As long as he was okay.

The same couldn't be said for Muir.

Anxiety suddenly gripped him, and the heartbeats he could hear weren't helping. If this was his power from The Shape, then it was frankly shit. The excitement from everyone made him uneasy. There was no warning. The anxiety just came knocking on the door before kicking it down. Muir's mind began to race with ridiculous possibilities. What if the ship sank? What if the police are waiting for Caz to just shoot him? What if The Shape isn't really dead and it'll follow them to the mainland? What if he's taken away and he never gets to see Innes again?

Muir held his breath with a thousand yard stare. No one seemed to notice. Not even Innes, who came into the container with a backpack he left for his partner. All of Muir's eyes turned to him, yet his head stayed seated in the same position.

'Alright. That's all of your stuff.' Like everyone else, Innes was happy. 'Yes. I brought the bloody harmonica before you ask. But don't go playing it until we get ye home.' Muir didn't answer and continued to stare. His mind wouldn't shut up. Everyone's heartbeats drowned out whatever Innes said. It was an echo for him. Everything began to blur. Not because The Shape had suddenly returned, but because he was crying. Muir could finally allow himself to breathe again. Innes looked, and his smile dropped. 'Muir?' He felt a tendril wrap around his hand, and he instinctively began to stroke it with his thumb.

'Please don't go.'

Innes frowned. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Stay in here with me.' A pause. 'What if this doesn't work? And what if I'm taken away, never to be seen again?'

'I think that's impossible.'

'Innes, please!' Muir snapped as he began to tighten his grip on Innes and shook his head, because he couldn't run a hand through his hair anymore. 'I don't want to be on my own.'

Innes moved towards him and wiped Muir's tears away. Muir hugged and pulled him closer for him to rest his head on his shoulders. Of course, Innes allowed it and, in return, gave Muir a kiss. 'Alright... Alright, Muir. I'll stay, but we have to be quiet.' Muir nodded before buring his head into Innes.

The pair were so worked up in themselves that they didn't notice Gibbo, Trots, and Roy watching. None of them were surprised. They all suspected something for a while. I'm glad to see they had their confirmation.

Roy often wondered what that felt like. To love someone so near and dear in that way. He's loved friends and family, but nothing you could conclude to be romantic. His only real love outside of that would be football and cooking. He caught on that the three were just staring at this point and gave Gibbo and Trots a small tap.

'Right, you two, get in.'

With their belongings tucked away in the corner, Gibbo, being bigger of the pair, went first and soon settled by using his bag as a pillow. Trots soon followed and didn't exactly know what to do with himself. He had this coat pocket, but it was just awkward for him. Like Rennick, he felt like a rescue horse being led to a stable.

'Hope you don't mind me sharing with you, Gibs.'

'As long as there's no Cadal this or Cadal that.'

'Oh no, this has made it worse,' Roy laughed. 'But hey, if he gets bored, Animal Farm is in his bag.' It wasn't. Trots knew it wasn't. The comment got Gibbo laughing. Trots just smirked before using the tendrils to make himself taller before giving Roy a quick shove on the shoulder with a chuff.

'Off with ya, ya prick.'

'Seya on the other side, lads.'

Of course, the men weren't in complete darkness. Along with the sun coming through at the bottom of the door, Caz and Finlay made some adjustments to the containers, other than paint. A few holes for the natural light. No one thought about possible rain, though.

'Are you really going to use your infection to get a Union?' Gibbo asked out of curiosity.

'Of course,' Trots said. 'How can they say 'no' to this?'

'Ah Christ.' Maybe Gibbo should have taken Rennick as his container-mate. He made his stance known by grabbing Trot's bag and holding it over his head like a pillow trying to block out the noise.

'Right, you two Roasters,' Finlay said in her usual tone that commanded your attention. She was never scared to use it towards Rennick and Addair before, and them being infected didn't change that. The pair awkwardly stood in their own shared container. 'I better not hear a peep out of either of you.'

'I want off this rig, Finlay,' Rennick said in that tone when you're about to get an earful. 'Why the fuck, do you think I'm gonna be loud?!'

'Because you always have to get the last word.'

'Then give me my own container.'

'No. We take you in pairs. Muir's too big for anyone else.' Except Trots, but wanted to be with Gibbo. 'Now keep ye' voices down, or I'll come in there and ring both of ya necks.'

Was Rennick scared of Finaly? No. Was Addair scared of Finlay? Also, no. But, the pair had to admire her attitude, even if they didn't like being spoken to like this. She always carried herself with authority and had bigger balls than most of the men here. Even if she couldn't swim.

'Hey Finlay?' Addair called as she began to close the door. Finlay stopped and listened. 'Why did the military say no to you?'

'Because they don't take women. Is that why they refused you, Addair?'

With that, the door shut, and Finlay could finally feel her blood pressure return to normal. Faint snickering from Rennick could be heard through the metal, followed by a small smack. She spotted Roper and gave a thumbs up, who gave one in return.

Within minutes, the cargo ship docked beside them, and a man stepped off and onto the walkway that connected to the rig. Thankfully, the sea was calm this afternoon. Roper went to greet him.

'Are you Rennick?' He asked.

'No,' Roper said. 'We did a headcount. We lost him.'

'Didn't take a lifeboat?'

'Considering none of them worked, the answer's no.'

The man noticed the exhausted look in Roper's eyes. He was putting it on just so they could leave faster. They then noticed the amount of holes and smashed windows were on Beria. And this was only one part. Their eyes went wide and confused as they scanned the rig before looking to Roper for answers, who exchanged a look that said, 'I know.'

Nothing else needed to be said. The man gave a nod of approval. 'Oh, and we still have some equipment that Cadal will want back.'

'Will they?'

'Do you want to pay for anything we lose?' Seems Caz's sarcasm had finally rubbed off on Roper.

'Fair enough.' He turned and called to his crew. 'Get the crane going!'

And breathe.

Soon, the crew of Beria were safely secured on the cargo. The infected were all sat next to each other, but the equipment sat on top. So much for the holes to give them sunlight. Maybe they could see in the dark?

Caz found himself watching the containers from the safety of Bridge. He couldn't feel their presence from this distance, and it left him on edge. He hoped they were okay. Yes, even Rennick and Addair. He turned and, along with the others, watched the Beria slowly disappear from view.

'Good riddance.'

#Still Wakes the Deep #Still Wakes the Deep: Still Here AU #My Writing

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