#if not for my friends sending me some money i wouldn't have been able to

[delulujuls]

i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18

am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me

he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him

summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way

warnings: none

pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll

The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.

Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.

"Here, you can have mine."

The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.

"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."

"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."

The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.

"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."

"Really?"

While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.

"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"

"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."

The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.

"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."

She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.

"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"

Y/N scoffed and shook her head.

"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."

"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."

She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.

"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"

"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."

Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.

"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."

She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.

"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."

"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."

"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"

He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.

"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"

"I'll try to meet that condition."

Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.

At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.

Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.

However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.

"There she is."

Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.

"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.

"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."

"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"

She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.

"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."

Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."

Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.

"Lance..."

Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.

"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."

He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Open the gift."

He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.

She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.

"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"

Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."

He chuckled.

"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."

Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.

"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."

Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.

"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."

Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.

The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.

Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.

"Here you are."

The girl jumped, hearing his voice.

"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."

"I needed some fresh air."

Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.

"I can't believe we got tipsy."

Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.

"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you invited me."

"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."

Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."

Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."

The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

"You could be my girlfriend."

Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.

"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."

The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.

"I love you, Lance."

With love.

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #ls18 #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll #aston martin #aston martin f1

[should-be-sleeping]

Tough day today... and friendly reminder that being human is easier when we help each other.

I saw one of our neighbors, an older woman we sometimes talk to in passing, sitting outside of her house. I don't know what exactly made me look twice, but on second glance as we drove by I realized her walker was in the grass. She was otherwise just sitting there, like she had a thousand times before, so it would have been easy to assume she was fine and go on with my life as normal but something told me to go check in on her anyway.

She was not fine. She was the polar opposite of fine. Just diagnosed with terminal cancer not fine. No next of kin not fine. A veteran facing eviction from her house for missing rent while in the hospital not fine. In constant debilitating pain not fine. Only semi-lucid not fine. She was extremely alone not fine.

I thought, at most, she might be bored while unable to pick up her walker not fine. A five minute detour from my day not fine. A help her back into her house and say "see you later!" not fine. Instead I spent the last three hours with her because she was so scared and alone and no one should be alone.

We talked a lot while I was there. She's actually two years younger than my mom (who also has cancer but slightly better luck, I guess). I helped her into her house and got her a drink and we talked about what all is going on with her. None of it was good. I was as reassuring as I could be, but there's only so much of this I can actually help her with.

"Why did you come?" she asked through tears.

"Because you looked like you might need some help."

She called me an angel. I told her I was just doing my best. I told her that kindness should never be rare. That we should all try to make the world just a little bit better than it was.

She offered to pay me but I told her I was just there as a friend. Before today we were basically strangers. No need to repay me with anything other than her company, I assured her. She cried, a lot. I managed not to somehow. Something tells me she had needed to cry long before this but in being Strong she never had the chance to.

She needed to get her mail, which is a long walk when you're disabled because it is not at all handicap accessible (across a parking lot, over a bridge, across a small field). So I helped her get her mail. We stopped every three feet because her pain was so bad, but she was determined to be able to go do this with me and not just send me on an errand. I patiently stayed with her and reminded her, through her apologies, it was fine to take our time: there was a nice breeze and birds were singing. She appreciated this. She loves nature.

Halfway back she said she wanted to go to the pool. To put her feet in the water. She loves water, and has not been able to even see the pool in a month. Neither of us were dressed for swimming, but I took her to the pool anyway. There is a stair leading down to it, meaning she couldn't bring her walker, so I offered her my arm.

We went to the pool. She put her feet in the water and then, with more energy and enthusiasm than I'd seen the whole time, she jumped in. In her fancy dress! She was instantly ten years younger at least, clear and happy, floating in the sun. Dress and all. She grew up with a pool and had been on a swim team.

I sat by the edge of the pool while she swam, keeping her company and also making sure she was okay. When she got tired I took her back home and then had to help her get undressed and redressed. I made sure she felt no shame. Getting out of wet clothes is hard for anyone, let alone someone with like twenty pounds of tumors racking them with constant pain.

She was so fucking happy to have gone swimming.

She is trying to "make everything right" before she goes. Trying to repay her debt to society and her debts in general. She couldn't understand why the corporation that owns our houses wouldn't take her money. She was genuinely distressed -- not to be homeless on her deathbed but to not leave this world with a clean slate. I told her intent matters. She can only do her best.

This company not letting her repay her debt was their fault, not hers.

When I finally needed to go, I told her to let me know any time she needed a hand or just wanted company. She told me she was going to die tonight. I told her I hoped not, so I could see her tomorrow. I offered her a hug, we hugged and she sobbed for a solid ten minutes into my shoulder. I told her she was okay. That it was okay.

When I got home I cried myself, because I could not believe she was going through all of that alone. I cannot even imagine how isolated she must have felt. Once I pulled myself back together I sent her a text reminding her to reach out any time and I'd do my best to come over. Like, any time at all.

I hope she is here tomorrow.

#choose kindness #existing helps #if we exist together #life #read more

[fimbry]

This is going to be a long post, a mix of what happened and then what Charlie meant to me. TW pet death

Charlie has passed away after eating 2 bad rats from Big Cheese Rodent Factory. She regurgitated 3 days after feeding and died two days later. I have been purchasing f/t rats from Big Cheese for years, and if my friend hadn't been having these same problems with the same batch of jumbo rats I would have thought this could be a freak incident or a mistake on my part. However, my friend's snakes are also regurgitating and one has died after eating these jumbo rats, and we bought them during the same Mother's Day sale. Same batch. I'll be getting a necropsy on Charlie to see if that has any answers as to what was off with the rats.

Now I get it that sometimes food safety measures don't get carried out every time and most suppliers have some kind of scandal like this, but the company's callous response and refusal to even entertain that it could be their rats at fault is pretty fucked up and has me a bit heated. It's just a "coincidence" my friend's and my snakes are getting sick/dying after eating rats from the same batch. Eye roll. The money doesn't even matter to me at this point so I may not message them further about this, I'm just so upset over the cold response and the loss of Charlie.

The email response from them:

With that out of the way, I do want to share what Charlie meant to me. She was a very special animal, I thought of her as the "matriarch" of my collection as I have a good number of her kids and grandchildren still with me. Four of each actually if I'm counting, and I love them so very much.

When I got Charlie I was still pretty green in the hobby. Yes I'd had snakes for years, my cornsnake and then a couple ball pythons, and even a Sumatran short-tail, my beloved Svid, but these were all very "easy" snakes... I learned with them, but I was not challenged the way that Charlie challenged me. I got Charlie as a full adult, she was my first blood python and I had not even planned to get into bloods until I saw her. I was planning to focus on Sumatran short tails, but Charlie changed things.

Charlie came out of the shipping bag striking and bit me on the finger immediately. Now I'm not sure if anyone remembers this but that video of the two little brothers "Charlie bit my finger" is how Charlie got her name lol.

The first 4 months were... challenging. I could not even touch her directly. I was so afraid I'd made a mistake. Charlie was a 17lb adult blood python, far bigger than my other snakes, and she was TERRIFIED of me. She wanted me to go to hell, and would send me there herself if only she could. We spent a lot of time together, just me sitting near her open enclosure and her glaring at me. Over the months we went from no contact, to minimal contact, until finally I was able to at least clean her without too much trouble. She liked routine, liked to know what was going to happen next. Any deviation from the routine and the trust would be broken, she'd be full of fear again. It was a few years of doing things purely by her strict rules.

Around 2014, something clicked. She began to actually trust that I wasn't going to hurt her and didn't have bad intentions. We seemed to have an actual understanding where if something happened out of the norm, she wouldn't react badly. I could even take her out for pictures and she behaved! Soon I was able to pet her, touch her tail (which I was doing a lot about now since I was trying to figure out why my "male" was not breeding, ha), even pet her head. I was still a bit wary of her, but we were in a good place. As the years went on, our trust grew deeper and I knew she wouldn't bite me, and she knew I was a safe person.

She also showed me how intelligent these snakes could be. She could tell people apart which became obvious if she saw anyone besides me. While I had earned her trust, others had not, so I refrained from taking her out if others were around. While she was a big beautiful animal, I couldn't take her out to show guests. I respected her all the more for it, if I'm honest. She knew what she was about, and I didn't push that.

Over the years she ended up giving me three clutches of beautiful babies, she did such a good job. After her last clutch in 2021, she started showing her age. She was nearing 20 years old, if not over, and had begun getting wrinkled scales and grew a cataract in one eye. I decided to retire her from breeding and let her enjoy her golden years in peace. Pythons can live a very long time, so I expected to have another ~10 years with her.

I'm devastated that her retirement was cut short like this, devastated that I was robbed of more time together. We had both grown and changed a lot over the last 12 years together, and she really was a picture of "to be loved is to be changed." My sweet old lady who knew me, and I knew her. ♥

#python brongersmai #reptiblr #snake #blood python #Charlie #tw pet death

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Taking Over the Neighborhood

Prompt Day 21: Snow | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Fluff, Neighbor Meet-Cute, Snow, Platonic Stobin, Cat People, Eddie POV

Eddie hates winter. 

It's cold. It's miserable. 

And the snow. 

The goddamn, motherfucking snow. 

He looks out the window, and he's not sure he's even gonna be able to get home by closing time. That's the shitty thing about working nights in the winter. Sometimes, when you're really unlucky, you get stuck at work.

They get a few more inches of snow, but he's determined to make it home, come hell or frozen water. His van can just suck it up.

He has to drive about ten miles per hour, but he does make it home. Then he gets to wade through his snow-covered sidewalk. Fantastic. 

His jeans are wet from the knees down, and he's freezing, so he jumps in the warm shower. Even if he'd really rather just crash.

The next day, he wakes up just after lunch, and while he's drinking his first cup of coffee, he notices that his walk has been shoveled. That's weird. He definitely doesn't know any of his neighbors that well. He hasn't lived here long, and his schedule isn't exactly ideal for meeting neighbors. Maybe it's some of the kids in the neighborhood, and he owes them money now. Which, he wouldn't mind paying, he definitely appreciates it.

Maybe he'll see 'em out working.

So, Eddie sits by the window and waits. Soon enough, a guy is walking across the street with a snow shovel. Eddie's never seen him before in his life. Doesn't know if he has a wife, a boyfriend, six kids or a dozen cats. No clue. Maybe all of the above, for all Eddie knows.

But, Eddie pours another mug of coffee, slides on his boots, zips up his coat and goes out to thank him.

The guy's just walking up the driveway when Eddie opens the door, and he freezes in his tracks.

"Hey, thank you, your handiwork is greatly appreciated!" Eddie hollers, offering him a big smile. "I'm Eddie."

"I'm Steve," Steve says, and Eddie smiles at him. "I kinda figured that either you worked nights, or were a vampire," Steve teases, "But look at you! Out in the daytime."

Eddie laughs, "Not a vampire. Bar owner, though, so lots of late nights," Eddie says.

"I hope you don't mind, I was doing mine, and just thought I'd help."

"I really appreciate that help, Steve," Eddie says, handing him the cup of coffee. Steve accepts it with thanks, and Eddie takes the shovel from his hands, and shovels up the small amount of new snow that fell overnight.

"So, a bar, huh? Which one?" Steve asks, and Eddie pauses for a second.

"Hellfire Club," Eddie finally says.

"Oh, that's cool! Small world. My best friend and I have been there a few times. It's great. We liked it a lot. There's not a lot of queer-friendly bars in the area, and a new one is always appreciated," Steve says, and Eddie relaxes.

"I'm glad you guys liked it," Eddie says, smiling, "it's taking up all my time. Hence, the rumors of me being a vampire, apparently."

Steve laughs, and Eddie leans on the shovel, just looking at him. He's very pretty, and maybe, some flavor of queer.

It's Eddie's lucky day.

"You hungry? I can make breakfast? As a thank you for all your manual labor," Eddie offers, and Steve actually nods, which sends a thrill through Eddie. He hadn't expected that, not really.

But he ushers Steve into his house, and they both take off their snow boots at the front door, and then Eddie leads him into his kitchen. "There's more coffee in the pot," Eddie says, and he watches as Steve refills his mug. "Milk or cream in the fridge if you want some, and sugar in the container right there," Eddie adds, pointing.

And Steve doctors up his coffee.

"I should have asked earlier, I forget not everyone drinks it black," Eddie says.

"Oh, I like it both ways," Steve says, stirring his coffee with a spoon he got out of the dish drainer. 

Eddie would be so lucky, if Steve likes it both ways.

Steve scoots onto the bar stool, and drinks his coffee while Eddie makes breakfast. 

"How do you like your eggs?" Eddie asks.

"The runnier the better," Steve says, and Eddie pulls his hands to his heart, dramatically. 

Steve laughs.

"A guy after my heart," Eddie declares, and starts frying some bacon, and puts bread in the toaster.

"How long have you lived across the street?" Eddie asks, glancing over his shoulder at Steve.

"Four, no, five years. My best friend, Robin and I, moved from a small town in Indiana," Steve says.

"I didn't know who lived over there. Single person? Family with six kids? A dozen cats? It could have been any combination," Eddie teases.

"Well, it's one bisexual, one lesbian, no kids, and 2 cats."

Eddie smiles, teasing, "We're taking over the neighborhood."

"The gays?" Steve asks, grinning.

"No, the cat people," Eddie teases, clicking his tongue and a big, black cat comes racing into the kitchen.

"That's Midnight."

Steve reaches down and scratches him behind the ears, and it makes Eddie smile.

Once the food is ready, they sit side-by-side and eat at the counter. Midnight eating his lunch in the corner, on the floor. They talk, and Eddie is happy he's making a friend in town. 

Then there's knocking on the front door, and Eddie gets up to go answer it. That's weird. Gareth would just walk in, so he doesn't know who it'd be.

He opens the door to a woman with a bob haircut, "Did you kidnap my best friend?"

"Yes, and I'm force feeding him breakfast," Eddie answers. "You must be Robin."

Steve laughs from the kitchen, then hollers, "How did you even know I was over here?"

"I followed your footprints. And I saw your shovel, dingus," she says, and pushes her way inside. 

Eddie steps aside to let her enter.

Maybe he'll make two new friends today.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #snow #meet cute #neighbors #bar owner eddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

[flowerandblood]

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #ewan mitchell #aemond x oc #aemond x female #aemond x fem!oc #aemond smut #aemond angst #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell smut #hotd smut #hotd angst #aemond targaryen angst #modern aemond #modern aemond smut #modern aemond targaryen #modern aemond angst #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #aemond fandom #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #house of the dragon

[lowkeycasanova]

catching up

plot: you run into Vinnie after breaking up 3 years ago

masterlist

——————————————————————

Take out bag in hand from the pick up counter, focused on nothing and no one as you walked through the restaurant as you ordered an Uber to go back to the Airbnb.

But there he was, and he recognized you as you walked past each other. You didn’t even realize.

“Y/N?”

You nearly tripped over your own two feet and almost bumped into someone upon hearing your name called. You step aside and with a confused expression, you turn around to the direction of the voice.

“Vinnie.” You breathed out.

Before you could even process what was happening, he walked up and pulled you into a hug. Closing your eyes, you hugged him back.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” He said and pulled away. “You look amazing.”

“Yeah, so do you.”

He’s definitely filled out since the last time you saw him. He had more muscle, he grew out his hair, it was also more of his natural color, his previously bare hands were covered in tattoos and you knew he had more, and you swore he got a tad bit taller.

“God, it’s been a while.”

You pursed your lips. “Three years…”

*Flashback*

"What do you mean you're going to LA?" you asked him in disbelief.

"I just think this would be a good opportunity for me."

"You make random videos for fun. It's not a job."

"Not yet, but who knows, I could make a career out of this."

"Since when do you wanna be some entertainer? You've never mentioned anything like that." you argued back. "But that wasn't the plan. We're supposed to be going to college together. I was so happy when we both got accepted, but now you spring this on me a month before school starts?"

He sighed. "I know. I'm sorry, but having contacts out there could help push my modeling. And maybe I could get into acting. I've always wanted to try that."

"Again, you never mentioned that."

"Well maybe I kept my mouth shut because there would be no opportunity like that for me here in Seattle!" He raised his voice in frustration. "And now, I have it and I wanna take it."

You felt the tears forming in your eyes and tried to keep yourself together. Part of the reason was that you were just such a perfectionist, planning for things in the future, and when they don't go as planned, you don't know what to do.

Also, to you, it wasn't wise of him to just up and go. Sure, having one million followers was impressive, but, so what? Plus, he didn't have that much money. He's just hoping it all works out.

Vinnie left two days after his 18th birthday. You couldn't believe he actually got on that plane. No, you didn't like it, but you accepted it for what it was.

"So, how's school going?" Vinnie asked.

You two had moved over to the side of the entrance doors and leaned against the wall so you wouldn't be in other people's way.

"Um...you know, going into my last year. It's exciting."

"Still interior design?" he asked.

You nodded.

"So, what brought you to LA?"

"Um, just took a trip with a friend before school starts up again."

If Vinnie was disappointed that you didn't reach out to him upon arriving, he didn't show it.

"What would your major have been? If you stayed?"

"Mathematics and physics. But I'd probably still be an electrician on the side with my dad."

Talking about his what ifs made the memories come back.

*Flashback*

Just hung up the phone after talking to Vinnie. You sigh in disappointment.

He called to let you know that he wouldn't be able to come to the annual homecoming game on campus due to some photoshoot he had to do.

You tried to not let it affect you. It was just a football game. And Vinnie was seemingly starting to do the things he really wanted, so you wanted to be supportive of that.

It was then when you felt a shift in the relationship.

Putting on a happy face the day of the game, you ended up dressing up with your friends, decked out in purple and white, while sending pictures and videos to Vinnie.

He came back and visited for a few days before going back to LA. You were so consumed with school and wanted to focus on that.

There was one moment when you were up late doing homework. You began thinking about what it would be like if you finished up your first semester at the University of Washington and then transferred to Cal State or some school out there to be closer to Vinnie.

It was when you were reviewing the transfer requirements at UCLA when you thought, what the hell am I doing?, then exited out the website.

That wasn't what you wanted.

Vinnie was started to blow up at this point. It was hard to miss. And it was evident that you two started to talk less. You tried to make the effort. He'd been a bad texter at certain times but it was never frequent. You hated the possibility that he was somehow ignoring you but it only got worse when you'd see him in the media out with his new friends at restaurants and rumored to be dating this girl or that girl.

You wondered how he had time to talk to them and not you.

It got to a point where you'd drop everything when Vinnie did get back to you.

One day you got a call from him.

"I don't know if I wanna do this, Y/N. I just wanna come back."

Had he told you this a few weeks earlier, you'd would have no problem convincing him.

"Vinnie...you've only been out there for a short amount of time. As much as I'd want you to come back, I think you should stay a little longer. And if things still continue to not work out, I already know your parents would let you move back in. Stay and do the best you can."

He didn't say anything, only sighed on the other end.

You continued. "And to be honest, we should both be doing our own things individually."

"...what do you mean?"

You bit the bullet and told him that it would be best to break up. Thinking about it, but didn't want to say it because the two of you had grown so close. But y'all needed to do your own thing right now. You perceived the call from him as him holding back from striving to do his best in LA because he was tied down to a girl in another state. Vinnie obviously didn't want it, but he knew it was inevitable.

As you two continued to talk, a black car drove up and parked in front of the restaurant.

“Oh shit.” You said and looked down at your phone. “That’s my Uber. I gotta go. And I don't wanna gold you up from whoever is waiting for you inside."

“Oh.” He said and you could tell he was trying to hide his disappointment. "I'm the first one here. Just coming with friends. But sure, of course. Hey, maybe we could, hang out or something tomorrow. If…you want to.” And he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

You raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’d love for you to meet my friends and see the house.”

He hoped he didn’t come off as bragging with that last part.

"Yeah, sure, I'll come."

He smiled. "Alright, cool." and he pulled you into a tight hug.

***

When you got back to the Airbnb, you told your friend about your run in with Vinnie and the invitation to go to his house. You'd known her while you were dating him, so she knew the story.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked.

You shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"Okay as your friend, I don't think you should go. I mean sure it'll be nice for a second, until we go back to Seattle and he stays here and you're back to where you started."

This was definitely going to open up old emotions. Oh well.

The next afternoon, Vinnie picked you up. He said he hoped you hadn't changed your mind.

When you arrived at the house, you noticed quite a few cars in the driveway and felt hesitant.

"I didn't know you had so much company. I could've came another day."

He chuckled when he realized why you said that. "These belong to me and my buddy Jett."

“Oh.” You smiled.

“We buy them and try to fix ‘em up.”

Vinnie opened the door up for you, allowing you to go in first. You smiled at how beautiful and lively it was. He told you his roommates were his best friends, but he also had other friends come over a lot.

You stood beside Vinnie and he introduced you. He wanted to have everyone’s attention. They stopped what they were doing to come and meet you. You didn't know where to look, trying to greet them. His friend, Jack, told you that Vinnie had mentioned you'd be here.

Vinnie told you to make yourself at home and you got comfortable on the couch in the living room, admiring all the instruments that were there. His friends Josh and Adam are sitting on the spot across from you. You started to get to know them, laughing as they're pretty funny.

Vinnie makes his way over, silently observing you, happy that you seem to be getting along with everyone. He always loved that about you.

"You guys better not be talking about me." Vinnie's voice catches you off guard.

"Oh we definitely were." you answer back. The boys laugh and someone else comes and grabs their attention for a moment.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?" Vinnie asks, his fingertips barely grazing your shoulder.

"Yeah, sure."

You got up and follow his lead. He gives you a tour of the house on the way up to his room.

"Nice picture." you said, referring to the big frame that had his head and his cat's heat photoshopped onto it.

Speaking of Hera, she came up and purred against your leg like she'd known you forever.

"Oh thanks." he laughed while simultaneously trying to make the cords from his gaming setup look less chaotic. "My mom got that for me as a Christmas gift."

Maria.

You had gotten close with his family too. You two spent time at each other's houses a lot due to not being able to go to the same high school. After the breakup, his parents and younger brother still followed you on social media, but you hadn't spoke to them in person. It hurt that you had also lost your second family.

He motioned for you to sit on the bed next to him and you did. He seemed like he was trying to get his words together.

"Honestly, to start it off, I wanna tell you what went down as far as moving out here."

He looked at you, as if asking for permission to continue. You nodded.

"Um...I know that you felt this disconnect between us and you said it would be best for us to do things on our own. You were right. I was being distant...but it wasn't because I didn't love you anymore, I was just going through a really rough time. I mean, I was in two houses over the course of four months and before I moved into Hype, I almost didn't have a place to stay. I was nearly broke because I wasn't making money off my content yet. And I just...didn't know what I was doing or where I was going with my life at the time."

Your face fell as he told you this. You felt so bad. Guilty even. That the break up was while he was going through all this stress. Like a final nail in the coffin.

"It's not your fault." he said as he noticed your expression and put a hand on your shoulder. You just looked at your hands in your lap. " I don't blame you at all.

"I should have really asked you if you were doing okay."

"I would've lied about it. I didn't tell my parents, you, or my friends. I just kept everything inside and I distanced myself from you, my audience, some of my friends, and I started saying rash things online. Just becoming someone that I wasn't. I realize now I shouldn't have done that. I should have talked to somebody, anybody about it. So that's my fault.

"I'm really sorry. And I'm sorry for how things were handled between us."

"Don't be. I think I needed to go through that. If not, I probably wouldn't be where I am today."

You felt tears forming in your eyes and wrapped your arms around him and he embraced you back.

"You deserved to know. Thanks for hearing me out."

"Of course. I'm so proud of you."

You two eventually pulled away and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Hey listen, I'm not saying we jump right back into something, but....I broke your trust, and I'll like to earn it back, If you let me."

"So, what are you saying?" you ask, searching his face as if it had the answers.

"I just wanna be in your life again. As your friend. I want to get to know you now, and for you to get to know me now. And see where it goes from there."

You looked at him in silence, feeling butterflies as he was looking at you.

"Okay." you said, almost in a whisper.

"Yeah?" he begins to smile and you nod.

He pulls you into him again. "Thank you. I won't mess this up."

#vinniehacker #vhackerr #vinnie hacker #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie x y/n #vinnie imagines

[feverdreamsanddelusions]

5

inspo

[tw language, kidnapping, captivity, hostage situation, stockholm syndrome, lima syndrome, talk of dismemberment]

They weren't supposed to get attached to the hostage.

But spending several days in a stupid little cottage with no one else to talk to seemed to have done a number on both of their psyches, with Whumpee treating them more and more like a particularly intimidating friend, and in turn... Whumper taking a liking to them.

It was ridiculous, of course. At first, Whumper suspected a trap, or an escape attempt. Why else would their hostage go on a quiet little rant about how messed up their life had been before the kidnapping? How the kidnapping had hardly made it worse, quite the contrary. How they didn't mind the restraints, not really, they were just getting really worried about blood circulation. It was the perfect way to get Whumper to loosen them so they could free themself and run.

But Whumpee stayed perfectly still the entire time. They didn't even look at Whumper. They were trembling slightly at the closeness, but they just sat there and let Whumper readjust their bonds without any indication of their desire to escape. But they must've wanted to. Right?

Whumpee kept complimenting the food, too. It was nothing fancy, mostly canned stuff and some instant oats; and yet Whumpee seemed delighted to be cared for, always making sure they thanked Whumper thoroughly.

It had to be part of a plan. It just had to be.

It didn't matter.

"Today is the deadline," Whumper announced. "You better hope they have the fucking money."

Whumpee swallowed and nodded. "What... what if they..."

"If they fucked up? Oh, I don't know. Shooting you in the head feels like a waste. Maybe I'll cut off an arm and send it to them..."

It felt wrong to say that. It felt cruel. It was cruel, but that was supposed to be the point! They weren't supposed to care about the hostage's opinion!

"I can live without an arm," Whumpee mumbled, and Whumper froze in their tracks.

"What?"

"N-nothing. Nothing. I'm sorry."

"What the fuck did you say?" They walked over and grabbed Whumpee by the neck of their shirt, barely able to tell what made them want to hear that again so badly. Was it because they wanted to slap Whumpee for it? Because they thought their victim had implied their family wouldn't pay, rendering the plan useless? Because of perceived defiance? Or was it... something else?

"I said– I said I c-can live without an arm," they choked out. "I'm sorry, I didn't– I didn't mean anything by it, I want to keep my arm–"

"Why the fuck would you say shit like that? Huh? What's wrong with you?"

Whumpee shook their head, tears trickling down their face. "I just don't want to go back! I– I'm just happy you'd allow me a few more days with you, even if– even if it'd cost me an arm! I just don't want to leave! I hate them! I hate them so much! I, I hope they don't pay–"

Whumper slapped them across the face and let go, allowing their hostage to crumple to the ground in a sobbing heap. Fucking idiot. What a stupid thing to say.

"I can't believe I kidnapped someone so sick in the head," they grumbled, and Whumpee curled up tighter at the insult.

Fucking hell.

They were already hoping the stupid fucks wouldn't pay, and now Whumpee had to say it out loud?

#whump #whump drabble #kidnapping #captivity #hostage situation #stockholm syndrome #lima syndrome #talk of dismemberment #res writes

[girls-alias]

Liquid Courage - Sam Winchester

Title: Liquid Courage - Sam Winchester

Words: 716

Relations: Sam Winchester X Reader

TW: Drinking,

Prompt:

Asking Sam out on a date.

Drinking in a bar with friends. Builds the courage with shots. I huffed as I sat beside Chloe, my best friend. Their conversations stopped as the three of them looked at me. Friends since school. 

"Rough day?" Rachel asked as she pushed a shot towards me. I snatched it from the table and drank it within a second. I nodded as the liquid slipped down my throat. 

"First rounds on me," I commented as I slammed my hands on the table and rose to my feet. I approached the bar and was instantly seen too. "12 shots of tequila rose please," I commented and the bartender nodded. 

"I hope they're not all for you." I heard a guy ask beside me with a chuckle. 

"I wish," I commented slightly sarcastically. A lot of drinks later, my friend gave me an idea.

"We need more drinks, anyone still got money?" She asked and the idea sparked, I couldn't help but smirk as I took my jacket off. 

"I'll be right back," I commented to my girls and they all nodded as I got up. I focused on the steps as I walked up them. The band smiled at me. "Can I use your guitar?" I asked as he continued to play. The guy chuckled as he looked at the rest of the band. They all shrugged so he helped me onto the stage and handed me his electric guitar and put the strap over my head. "Try and keep up," I commented. 

I started strumming the guitar and playing 'Walk This Way' by Aerosmith and my friends cheered the loudest. I hadn't shown anyone my playing so I suspected they were surprised. The rest of the band joined in. I approached the mic and started singing. My girls screamed for me having no idea of the secret talent I had been keeping. 

The band sang some harmony in the chorus and the entire bar seemed to be excited. As the song progressed I got really into it. The whole bar was shouting along and enjoying it. Once the song was finished everyone was cheering and whistling. The alcohol inside me only made me giddy. My girls started shouting for more and everyone joined. I chuckled and started playing Queens 'Another One Bites The Dust'. The crowd got more into it and people started pouring into the bar till it was packed. People were clapping and singing along. I couldn't stop smiling, this has turned the worst day into an amazing day. Once again as soon as the song was over the crowd erupted. They were shouting for more. 

"I'm done thank you," I commented into the mic before stepping away but realised something and stepped back. "Me and my friends are sat at that table, feel free to send us drinks," I added as I pointed to the table my friends were going crazy at and the crowd cheered as I handed the bass back and approached the table everyone seemed to be patting me on the back. I was at the table for 30 seconds before it was practically full of drinks. My girls and I laughed. After drinking way too much the bar was still buzzing. I approached the bar looking out for the guy I had talked to earlier. I played my stumbles off. I leant on the bar beside him. He smiled at me. 

"I'm Y/N and this is my number," I confidentially explained and he chuckled. 

"I'm Sam, nice playing. I was just saying to my brother that you have a good musical taste." He added as he gestured to his brother who was also extremely handsome. Whatever they were drinking growing up needs to be marked as holy water. Holy shit they're hot.

"Maybe I can give you a private show?" I asked making him chuckle. 

"I'll call you," he added making me smile. 

"You better," I added before winking and walking back to my table. People still congratulating me. My girls laughed and squealed. 

"You wouldn't do that sober in a million years," Chloe chirped making me giggle. 

"After losing my job and not being able to pay rent I can be whoever I want to be!" I cheered and other random people cheered around me making us all laugh.

Masterlist

Working On

#sam winchester x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam #spn fanfic #spn

[homosociallyyours]

This is a post for one of my best friends who's been going through a lot for the past few years. I'll go into more details below, but here's the heart of the matter: My friend has a serious auto-immune condition resulting from the long term after effects of cancer treatments (worsened now by the addition of long COVID to her long list of diagnoses). Over the past few years, she's gotten sicker and sicker and has been forced to change her diet from a vegetarian anti-cancer diet (she's a breast cancer survivor, and fought HARD for her health) to one that's become more and more limited as her body becomes allergic to every food one by one. She's now reached a point where one of the last 2 foods that she was able to eat safely, chicken, is causing an allergic reaction; she has to eat it anyway to survive, so is now very sick all the time.

What can you do?

One of the last hopes that she has to turn things around is something called a fecal microbiome transplant, which has worked miracles for other people with similar issues, but cannot currently be accessed through medical channels in the US for any but one (unrelated) condition. It's really easy to do as a DIY treatment though, it's just hard to find a donor: so we are putting it out there to see if one of you might be able and willing to be that person, or know someone who could do it.

Here is what she has to say about the ask:

Finding the right person to do this is difficult, but actually doing the helping is extremely easy and quick if someone was that person! If you live in the continental US and are fortunate enough to have both physical and mental good health (or know someone or have a child who fit the criteria) and are willing, you might be able to change my life! Please consider clicking through to read more and maybe even come aboard...  (For clarity: this isn't a medical procedure or anything, it is literally just donating poop, there are a few specifics but it is very much from the comfort of your home on your own time.)

You can click here to fill out a google form to see if you might be able to be a donor. The questionaire is detailed: fecal transplant is a bizarre and magical thing in which the patient sometimes can even end up acquiring personal preferences from the donor- the gut microbiome (sometimes called the second brain) is incredible! But this means that any illness, chronic issues, or risk factors you carry may also be transferred to the recipient so while it may feel invasive, getting detailed info in very necessary; I am just too sick already to take on any more problems.

A note- yes, it is possible to buy screened and processed treatments even in the US: unfortunately the cost (~$2k per round of treatment) is way outside my reach, particularly given that it isn't really any better than just getting poop directly from a good candidate (proven via studies), and that often it takes trying a couple donors/ rounds to find a match that gets results. If anyone wants to just buy me that stuff, I sure wouldn't say no to that, but given the severity of my situation (medical and financial; I cannot work due to disability) it is likely I will need to do medical fundraising at some point and I am trying to save that for an even worse point. Also if you have that kind of money to help out honestly it would be better spent on specialists or my astronomical food costs. I will cover all costs associated with this process if I find someone though, of course!

Thank you for reading/boosting/etc, please consider sending the link to possible healthy friends or family who might be a fit, or consider whether you have a child fitting the bill you might be willing to enlist- young microbiomes are the best ones, as children's systems have had less time to be ravaged by the effects of the modern world or the simple deterioration of age.

#signal boost #medical issues #health #please fill out the form at the link that's below the read more #and share this post and/or the survey link with anyone you know who might be a good fit #i'm not exaggerating when i say that the worsening of her condition is really fucking scary #genuinely don't know what i would do without her #also how great would it be to tell everyone your shit is LIFE SAVING??

[syoddeye]

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

because i can't be Normal, here are 11 mini moodboards + blurbs lmao. thank you canva. some of the photos are low res, that's my b.

disclaimer: this is clearly for fun. i don't want to hear about how wrong i am lol.

Price: Maybe this is because the strong visuals from Ursa Major by @the-californicationist is rotting my brain (affectionate), but my favorite dude likes workwear and high quality clothing. I don't think he prioritizes fashion, but at the same time, he puts on Hard Pants whenever he leaves the house because you never know who he might meet! (You. At the store. Where he gets that pesky can of whatever off the top shelf for you.) Need to commission an artist to draw him as Tom Selleck.

Rudy: Inspired by Bayardo. Rudy likes moto style, worn-in/lived-in clothing, and cleans up real nice. I could see him gravitating more color and knit button downs/polo shirts. I didn't include much western/cowboy stuff, but I imagine Alejandro's aesthetic rubbing off on Rudy since they've known each other for decades.

Ghost: To no one's surprise, his favorite color is black. But, he wouldn't wear clothes that draw even more attention. He's already a big fella, I just don't see him trying to stand out on purpose. He favors darker neutrals, layers, regular cloth or paper face masks, and workwear. Pretty plain aesthetic. Just a Guy™.

Kate: "Sy, that's a lot of Gillian Anderson." AND? What about it? Anyway, I think younger!Kate saw If These Walls Could Talk 2 and emulated Amy's (Chloë Sevigny) style for a number of years. I think with her work and maturation of style, her style is more utilitarian/streamlined, but when she dresses up, ooh baby. Some of Maya Erskine's outfits in the new Mr. and Mrs. Smith show also scream Kate to me. Obviously we have a vest outfit here, because if there is one thing lesbians love, it's utility. /jk

Nik: Similar to Price in that he values clothes that can hold up under normal-to-heavy use. Every outfit does have to highlight a chain. My guy is probably sitting on a small mountain of money, too, but the clothes he picks for himself are unlabeled.

Ale: He's a smooth operator 🎶 No, but to me he's like Soap - Alejandro knows he's good-looking. He has the range and the confidence to pull off most anything. I think similar to Rudy, I imagine him leaning more towards moto aesthetics, with more cowboy/western vibes. Not afraid of color. Lest we forget, he owns a ranch, so throw in workwear, too. Tucked in shirts, belt buckles. Another minor point of inspo is Donald Glover from Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Gaz: It's coincidence two photos contains glasses BUT I think in my dream world, Gaz dresses the way Elliot Knight's stylist dresses him. Which is to say wonderfully. Gaz tends toward neutrals, pieces that are easy to layer, and can fit into more than one look. He's probably somewhat up on fashion and style, not obsessed, but aware of what he looks good in. Not afraid to chat up a sales associate for help.

Soap: He knows he's nice to look at. He knows his arms are drool-worthy. The moment the weather's pleasant enough, he's sleeveless. I also know he probably dgaf about fashion but let's feed my delusions. Streetwear, athleisure - He's got to be able to move freely, feel comfortable, and show off his build.

Farah: Ignore the bags lol. If anything, she's carrying something crossbody and functional. Anyway, Farah's a leader and has been from too young of an age. I think this translates to how she carries herself and what she wears, yeah? I think she aligns with Soap+Gaz+Ale in the Can Wear Anything group. My soft as fuck HC is that Price gave her a few band shirts at some point in time.

Alex: Generally aware of what he looks good in. He relies on his more fashion inclined friends and loved ones to send him ideas or buy him clothes outright because he does not go out of his way to shop. He constantly wears that a single jacket he got One compliment on it six years ago. Like Ghost, he's Just a Guy™. A very handsome one.

Valeria: She's a business woman, right? 👀 Valeria's aesthetic is a mixture of all black everything/glam/utilitarian but make it fashion. In my deepest of dreams, her fashion style is more fluid, and she eats up everything she wears. Again, kind of falling into the idea that confidence makes any style possible on her.

character ask game questions here!

#i made these between meetings on mobile so let's be nice about formatting #sy asks #cod aesthetics #moodboards #john price #rodolfo rudy parra #rudy parra #simon ghost riley #kate laswell #kate laswell cod #cod nikolai #nikolai cod #alejandro vargas #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #farah karim #alex keller #valeria garza #femalefemur

[mooonjin]

HELLO MOON ITS JIABEE

can i ask for a tech x reader (gn, fem, idc) after he gets his leg injured? like hurt/comfort fluffy shit?

thank you, ily!

(you remind me of my friend ella, she's a major simp except her energy is directed towards bts and kdrama actors 😂)

Tech-nically, You're Not Fine

Notes: EEEE HEY JIABAE! i hope you like this and dont mind me puting in some hormons at parts,, also i LOVE bts too, shoutout to ella hehee much luv!!

Pairing: Tech x gn!reader

Summary: Tech's injury on Serenno left you in a fit of worry. As much as you wanted to change the outcome of the incident, the past already happened. He was here with you, in the present, injured and in need of somebody to take care of him.

Warnings/Tags: mentions of bruises, mentions of tending to injuries, sprinkles of hurt, teeny bit suggestive, teeny ss2 spoilers, fluff — tell me if I've missed anything!

You were upset, you were furious, you were every emotion that wasn't anything 'happy.' That mission was stupid and reckless and they shouldn't have gone whether they would've been rich or not.

Are you kidding me? Castle Serenno? The former home of Count Dooku? Was that really the price of freedom? Almost getting yourselves killed for money? All the money in the world wouldn't matter if they died!

Is what you wanted to say as you were carefully setting up some bandaging for Tech's fractured femur, who, insisted it be called his fractured left femur. On a separate wheely table, you had all of the bacta bandages and several other tools that Tech provided you with.

You weren't sure if he wanted you to do it because he didn't trust himself enough or if he just wanted you. You'd like to think it was the second option considering he was definitely intelligent enough to patch himself.

"Why would you agree to go on that mission, Tech? I know you, Wrecker and possibly Echo agreed but you? Agreeing to this? That's outrageous!" it was a more toned down version of what you initially wanted to confront Tech with but you didn't want to scare him off like that whilst he was injured.

"Outrageous is the correct term I would use but as soldiers of war, paying a price for freedom is certainly worth the effort," he bargained, maintaining a stern tone of voice, being careful not to directly yell at you.

He remembered what Romar told him, that there is life outside of war so his ambition to retrieve the war chest upped. Tech was definitely dispirited when his femur was crushed and the war chest was the last of their priorities.

You grumbled, your face feeling hot from the anger you've tried to contain. Lashing out at an injured man was inappropriate, "Y'didn't even gain anything from the mission besides an injury—which could've been life threatening!"

"Fortunately, it was not. My left femur was crushed so it is only my lower half would have been threatened. If I was situated four meters lower then yes, I would also be inclined to agree with the term 'life-threatening', otherwise, I am fine." Tech was too exhausted to continue speaking, hoping that was an enough of an answer for you.

He didn't speak anymore, wanting to discourage a potential argument.

You checked on him multiple times as you prepared the equipment, noticing how he always flickered his gaze to the cockpit and back to his datapad.

You audibly sighed, gaining his attention from time to time, lowering your voice so you weren't harshly talking to him.

"Tech, you know nothing bad will happen to your datapad and the cockpit, right? You're injured, can't even walk properly and need rest," you said, to avert his gaze — mainly to you.

He swallowed shyly after his actions had been brought up, "Once you're able to secure my fractured femur, I am more than capable to sustain my own mobility," you dropped your shoulders, sending Tech and not-so-approved stare.

Even if his statement was true, the constant movement wouldn't give his poor femur time to heal.

"That's not an excuse to throw away resting time," you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing, trying to suppress the dismay in your voice. You unbuckled his knee-piece to get his left leg bare so there wasn't any obstruction when applying the bandages.

Next was his long array of tools as well as his blaster holster that was held together like a belt. You reached around his hip to unclip it, letting the items fall limp.

"I can manage," was all he mumbled before letting you finish up with taking off his trinkets.

You were now face-to-face with Tech's bare denim-blacks and eye-level with his crot—

You coughed, gaining his attention again, "A-hem," to save him from unnecessary pain, you stopped, not progressing with his outfit.

Tech seemed to have reached over to his holopad as you were taking his belt off. You rolled your eyes, coughing again so he would actually look up from the screen. How are his eyes not sore?

"Yes?" his eyes peaking just over the screen. The unexpected eye contact sent you to a blushing fit after having to pry your eyes away from the... view.

Your mouth opened first but nothing came out immediately, your eyes darting quickly to look everywhere but directly into his gold chocolate orbs.

"I won't do it for you so I don't accidentally hurt you, but could you roll up your jeans?" you waved your hand around, shyly, averting your eyes to the oh so lovely floor of the Marauder.

"That wouldn't be smart. Compiling my wear on top of my fractured femur is most likely to cause pressure," when Tech speaks to you, you could listen to him continue for hours on end.

Your eyes made their way back to his eyes before they widened slightly. He was already looking straight at you, unaware of what he's doing.

Although, it didn't really answer your question, "So?"

"I suggest I rid of the jeans so it is easier for you to mend," he discarded his datapad, letting it rest against the panel of buttons.

"Do you need to stand up?" you shoved back every stutter from escaping your throat.

"I do."

You quickly stood up, scooping him gently as he put pressure on his right leg for support. For his privacy, you looked away as fast as you could before you could see him clip off his crotch piece and dip his gloved fingers into the hem of his jeans. He slowly pulled them far enough down his thighs.

"How uh, far do you need them down?" you practically crushed your eyes as you shut them, overthinking the intention of your question. Fortunately, Tech took it like every other question he'd been asked.

"Only beneath my thighs, you may put me back down and remove the rest."

You tensed at his words.

"You want me to—uh, remove them?" you carefully helped him back down into the chair, the tops of his thighs exposed and the slightest view of his exposed boxers.

He didn't answer your question immediately, taking the time to clip his crotch piece back. You were internally disappointed at the loss but you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Tech speak again.

"Considering my state, leaning parallel to my legs would not do my femur justice. You have the mobility effective enough to remove them without further injuring me."

Any response died at the back of your throat. He's right. Always is so, you didn't object. Tech watched you delicately take the jeans off his legs and once you passed the area of his fractured femur, he picked up his neglected datapad and tapped away.

Your angry thoughts about the Batch attending the war chest mission, dissipated. You were quick to wander along his bare skin. He was muscly and toned, slightly upset that he would be hiding all of this under his outfit.

With a quick, mental slap, you addressed the serious matter at hand.

The bruising around the skin was extreme, a cloud of purple and scattered layers of green-ish yellow taking up a large amount of the thigh. You admired Tech's level of toleration of the injury. 

Hoping you gave it enough time to soak, you reached over to the prepared bacta bandages.

Once they were ready, you gave Tech a heads-up, "Bandages are ready, it'll be cold," you carried the white fabric onto Tech's thigh, subconsciously lifting his knee up to wrap it around, forgetting to warn him about that too.

Tech hissed, gritting his teeth at the movement. You heard him, mumbling apologies after apologies, doing your best to get the wrapping secure and done with.

You slotted a tan fabric layer to keep the bandages from coming loose under his thigh, bringing it up to clip it down. Once it was secure enough, you sighed, sitting back on your heels.

"I should've been there to help earlier," guilt slowly inched towards you. You stood up, pushing the table into a compartment. Your words caught the attention of Tech who shockingly put away his datapad for the time being.

"It was not your fault, it was only a matter of gravity and my unfortunate placement when the crate fell," he peaked around the corner, watching you bring out Crosshair's old rifle case.

"I know but could've at least like, pushed you out of the way or maybe be in your position inste—"

"No. It would not be wise to be in my position and the thought of you taking 150 kilograms similar to I is excruciating."

A small grin crept up to your face, analysing his sentence and repeating the fact he thinks about you.

You took out any remaining blaster ammo out of the rifle, double-checking that it was empty. You clicked off the sniping lens and propped it back into the case.

You chuckled, closing the case, "You think about me?" Tech's eyes blinked rapidly, processing your bold choices of words.

"Yes... well, if I was not, communication would be quite difficult." You chuckled again. There was some truth Tech's excuse, you suspected he added the last bit to cover for his answer.

The rifle in your hand was now safe enough to act as a crutch to support Tech, who was still jeanless.

You scooped Tech under his arms to help him stand up on his now supported leg. You made sure the rifle sat comfortable under his shoulder and his bandages sat on his thigh properly.

Now for his jeans.

This time, you weren't as nervous about the whole jeans ordeal. However, Tech was the opposite. Because his datapad was on the panels, the distance to reach it for himself was impossible, having to distract himself some other way.

You brought the jeans up below Tech's thighs, allowing him to put them up himself. Tech gulped, trying his hardest erase the image of you in such a compromising position.

"Sorry I wasn't there," you mumbled, placing him back down onto the chair.

"Like I said, it was not your fault and in the midst of a mission, it wouldn't be very efficient to mend me inside of a vertical war chest on the extremity of a cliff." Tech's way of comforting you was unique but it certainly helped ease you up.

"Now, you need to rest." Tech was now in arms length to reach over to his datapad, finally continuing whatever beep bop boops he was up to.

"Thanks to you, I am capable of considerable mobility. I am fine."

You rolled your eyes, snatching his holopad from his grasp. You waved your thumb over the shut off button as a passive way to threaten him if he doesn't get rest, "You are not."

"Technically, I am."

"Technically, you're not."

-

Post-Notes: hope ya liked it, i didnt edit much so im might come back to it to edit oops,, also i hope i wrote tech accuratly!

wanna be a part of my taglist?

~ ~ ~

@elsastoes @nekotaetae @jiabeewrites @lokigirlszendaya @imalovernotahater @backyard-bear @namesmox

#tech the bad batch #star wars #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #tech x reader #clone trooper x reader #mooonjin #TECHTECHTECHTECH #hop you enjoy the ficcy!!' #tbb #tech tbb

[jell0buss-37]

Could I ask for a peter b parker x black!fem!reader where maybe Y/N is the prowler in Peter's dimension and he's friends with her and then he finds out she's the prowler (and perhaps she also finds out he's spiderman 👁👁) and he tries to talk to her

If you don't like the prowler idea Y/N can just be any Villian :))

(This is kinda angsty I'm sorry 😭)

I love this idea! I think it'd be interesting if they were more rivals to begin with and had started to slowly grown closer. And as their super-sonas, they'd always have more playful banter. I also thought it'd be interesting if the reader and him started working together on certain cases and such! I'm writing this while waiting for my tires to get looked at, and this gave me a lot of ideas. I hope you like them!

He is so goofy I love him <3

You two had known eachother since high school

Neither of you were exactly over achievers whenever it came to academics, but boy were you guys competitive

Nothing really interesting either of you unless one of you were suddenly better than the other at it

Mathematics? You only took AP to spite him

English Language Arts? He yoinked that from you by winning multiple prizes for his short stories.

You were in Theatre, Art, and Auto shop, while he took over Orchestra, Band, and Culinary

Once the two of you graduated, you thought all of this feuding would finally be over

You and your sister lived together and took care of her son, your sister being a cop. She met her husband in the academy, and went on to join the army

You had your nephew, Miles, who was only 2 at this time

You'd spend many nights taking care of him

He was your favorite little dude

Eventually, times started getting tough, Your brother in law going MIA

He was presumed dead

You had worked at your dad's mechanic shop when you got the news

You were quickly by your sisters side

You had moved in by the end of the month

About a year later, you still worked as a mechanic, however due to how tight money was getting, and Miles getting older, you had to take on another job

You met this guy, a doctor at the University

He took you under his wing, and taught you all about robotics

Soon you became the prowler

You'd get these shady deals to do some crimes, smuggling certain weapons, handling affairs with shady politicians

You weren't proud of it, but it kept the cash flow steady.

You soon we're able to move your older sister and your nephew into a nicer neighborhood in Queens, nothing much but a good apartment with a good daycare down the road for Miles

You didn't, however, count on your new neighbors

"(Y/n)??"

You froze in the door to your new apartment

"Peter..."

It was awkward at first, and so you both held this silent agreement that you just wouldn't talk to eachother

Until your sister invited him to dinner

It was... Awkward

At first

Soon you guys were talking about old times, realizing how stupid it was to be feuding in the first place

And soon it's as if you never even hated eachother

He thought it was cool that you were a mechanic now, admitting he actually knows more about cars because of you in high school

He was very sympathetic to your sister and the loss of her husband, even offering to watch Miles every now and then if you guys needed

He was quick to become a family friend, coming over almost every Sunday now

How you two had met as the prowler and spiderman was a different story, however

You had been stealing out a large corporate bank, your Intel being to take a certain actors bank deposit

However, things were quick to go tits up

It appears that some other guys had the idea to rob that bank as well

Just a bunch of guys wearing Halloween masks

Amateurs.

You were quick to crash into the scene, finding them threatening bystanders and taking hostages

Amateurs.

Suddenly, a certain hero had also crashed into the scene, to find you beating up and knocking out a couple of the crooks, sending away the hostages

He was surprised, unsure if you were friend or foe

Either or, he helped you handle the guys

The two of you worked pretty good together, making a pretty decent team

It seemed you were a friend!

Until you went and just grabbed the bank statements, knocking Spiderman out of the building with an explosive you had planted

Okay, you were a foe.

You were gone before he could even collect himself

These little interactions would continue, him always joking and making smartass comments and remarks, you only staying silent

Although he was pretty amusing

Meanwhile, in your civilian lives, things seemed to be going pretty great

In fact, it appears that something more seemed to be going on between the two of you

It starts turning into more one night, when you come home early from a day at your auto shop, finding Peter watching a movie with Miles and eating some snacks

"Hey! Look Miles, your Auntie is back from being a grease monkey!" "Hey, look Miles, Uncle Peter is always a monkey!"

Miles loves you both so much, and was really excited to be tucked in and read a bedtime story to by you guys

You sang his favorite little song to him, the ABCs (don't ask, it's what my mom sang to me as a kid), and finishing it off with My Little Sunshine

Peter watches from the doorway, staring almost dreamily at you while you comfort the little guy

You close the door lightly, standing outside his door with Peter, the two of you joking with eachother for a bit

Eventually, it's about time he heads out, and you walk him out to see him off

He seems to be contemplating something in his head, and he suddenly turns around to ask you something

But you're right in front of him already, your noses bumping a bit, causing your breath to hitch a bit

"Hah, u-uh, I was just thinking, there's that new movie coming out soon, and-"

Your lips are suddenly on his, a light peck to his own

You pull back with a smile, laughing at his dazed expression

"... So is that a yes? Or-" "Yes, Peter."

You two start dating soon after, finding that the times spent together are so much funner whenever you guys aren't fighting

You were worried at first, due to you having to disappear every now and then because of your Prowler duties, and you were worried he would start questioning you

However, Pete was also worried about the same thing

You two didn't even notice that you guys would disappear every now and then to lead your double lives

It wasn't until about 6 months into you guys dating, when you both had come home around the same time covered in bruises and scratches from your previous excursion together

Peter was so worried, asking a thousand questions a minute

Meanwhile he had a black eye himself, and you two were freaking out at the same time

You both had came up with your own excuses

However, you guys started becoming distant since that event, both of you scared at what would happen if your lives got mixed up in eachothers

The break-up was inevitable at that point

You guys avoided eachother for a month, both as your alter egos and as yourselves

You guys were both obviously hurt from this

You had even started to question your work as the Prowler. You decided to put an end to being the Prowler. You were gonna get your Peter back

You were on the way to see the Doc, to give him his things back, a text sent to Peter telling him to meet up

When suddenly there was a collapse on the bridge, and you see spiderman fighting the very same doctor that you were on your way to see

Except now he had... 8 robot arms???

You were quick to suit up, helping out the vigilante that had become your friend

You help anyone that needs it, and even jump in to help Spidy

You both eventually defeat Doc Ock, and your by his side when he's stopping the bridge from completely collapsing

He gets hit with some falling debris, and he's knocked out, along with his mask

You're quick to go and catch him before he falls into the water below you

You get him to a safe place, only to find-

"PETER!??"

You were quick to rip off your own mask, trying to shake him awake

When he comes to, he sees your tearstained face looking down at him

"Hey pretty Lady... I was actually just on my way to see ya!"

He panics when he realized he was in his spidersuit, but you were quick to calm him down

He was... Shocked to find out that his "favorite colleague" was his girlfriend the entire time

"This is great! Now we can be the ultimate smoke show power couple!!"

Yeah, things were going to be great

#fanfiction #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #peter benjamin parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #headcannons

[leasstories]

Letter eight

TW : Depiction of grief; after Eddie’s death

Letter 7 - Letter 9

May 3rd, 1986

Dear Eddie,

I finally got an answer from UCLA, they accepted me, but I will say no. I can't leave Hawkins without you. We promised to each other that we would leave this town together Eddie. I can't break my promise. All I have left of you are the memories and they are all here, in Hawkins. Besides, I can't leave Wayne... He needs me as much as I need him. And as I previously told you, I found a job here, in Hawkins, the closest I can be to you. I'm starting tomorrow. I don't know how I am going to do it but I have to. I need a paycheck. Wayne still works at the plant, even though the state gave him money as compensation and a new house, he insisted that he still need to work. He says it distracts him. He even told me it might do the same to me. I don't think so. Hopper is a sweetheart for employing me, but it'll remind me that even though we thought he died he is still here. But you aren't, you aren't coming back. Talking about it makes me feel like I wasn't enough, I wasn't enough to make you stay. You might say I was the best partner you could have wished for, it's not how I feel it. I know it makes me the bad guy but I would sacrifice the world to save you. I don't care about anyone else. You are my life Eddie Munson.

I can't move on. I know what you would say. You would say "It' to earl for you to imagine it, but you will." But no Eddie, I won't. I can't. You were my entire life, we've know each other since elementary school. You are my best friend Eddie, and you are the love of my life. A world without you is like a wold without sun. I just don't know if I can do it. You are the most wonderful person that I know. You are the person I loved the most during my 18 years on this planet. You were the only person who didn't abandon me. You were the only who could bear with me. You've been here for me through thick and thin. I'll never thank you enough for everything you brought me. But being robbed from you was also the worse thing that ever happened to me. I hate thinking like this, but sometime I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if I had never known you. Being given all of this with you and then being robbed feels like my heart has been ripped out.

Loving you is a blessing as much as a curse. I am sorry this letter is so sad, but I need to tell you that. I need to tell you how hard it is to write letters without answers, how hard it is to wake up to en empty cold bed. How hard it is to dream of you and then waking up all alone. I'll never get over what I lost. And you, Eddie Munson, stuck me in Hawkins. I'll never be able to leave, not without you.

Some people still think you are guilty, one of the secretary at the sheriff office literally told Hopper that he shouldn't hire "the satanist that killed all those kids' girlfriend." I think that's the hardest part, having people who don't know shit about you, say those kind of things. Yo worth so fucking much more than that.

Anyways, sending you hugs and kisses.

Eternally yours,

Your love

Taglist: @abellmunsonmovie

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #the loneliest universe

[arcaneglitch]

I Nearly Got Art Scammed

Hey guys. I wanted to share this story with you as a precautionary tale for artists that take commissions. It's one of those things you think will never happen to you until it does

So here's how I was almost a victim of an art scam and what you can to prevent scams from getting the better of you

This one started on ArtStation, which makes sense as a target since it's primarily a portfolio site for artists rather than a typical social media. It began with a standard question about commissions.

Nothing out of the ordinary, right? I replied that I was and asked if she would like a link to my commission form. In hindsight, her response should have alerted me that something was off because she didn't ask for the form. Instead she offered to pay $300 for a drawing for her son's birthday (just over a month out).

Still, if you're an artist desperate for commissions, you might overlook any oddities. We corresponded a bit more, sorting out details about the piece. That's when she sent this:

That's the first warning sign. These days, it's practically unheard of not to have an account set up with an online transfer service (think PayPal, Zelle, etc). Still, you might write it off as someone being a bit old-fashioned.

This is where the first tip comes in: be specific about how you accept payment and don't immediately compromise

At that point, we switched to email. She agreed to a pose for the commission on November 9th, then was silent. Two days later (November 11th), I emailed asking her to confirm additional details.

She didn't get back to me until November 14th.

This is another indicator of a scam (listed as one of the warning signs in articles). If someone was confirming details for a time-sensitive commission, it's highly unlikely they'd go radio silent for days, especially when they were responding consistently before.

A day later, she emailed to tell me that there was a problem with the check.

I replied and she gave me the details.

What she's attempting to do is execute an overpayment scam. They typically involve generous offers paid through atypical methods such as credit cards or cheques. Then the scammer will admit to some mistake with the payment (as above) or admit to overpaying you from the start while giving you a fake excuse. The excuse she came up with was fairly detailed, but I don't think there's any reason someone wouldn't be able to cancel a cheque that hasn't been cashed.

Later, she sent me this:

Also typical of an overpayment scam. You're asked to refund the extra money through an online transfer (she suggests Zelle later). If you follow through, you'll discover that the scammer either used a fake/stolen credit card or that their cheque bounced.

DO NOT SEND THEM MONEY. If you send them money, you will not get it back. Same goes for whatever you might have sold to them.

The part that tipped me off was her telling me I could send the money back through Zelle. Not that the stuff leading up to that wasn't fishy, but that's what drove it home.

She revealed that she has access to an online transfer service, yet she didn't offer to pay for the commission that way, despite it being much more convenient. I suppose one could argue that she wanted to send money from a specific account that wasn't set up with Zelle. But if that was the case, she could pay from the Zelle account and then cover with a transfer from the other one at a later date.

I asked her if reimbursing her was the only way, suggesting that using Zelle would be easier. She completely ignored the suggestion.

Again, in what situation would you not be able to cancel a cheque that has not been cashed?

By this point, I was pretty much positive that it was a scam. I shared screenshots of the emails with another artist friend of mine, and she agreed that it sounded like a scam.

In my last email to the scammer, I told her that it sounded like a lot of hoops to jump through and that I typically collect payment through online transfers. I said that unless we could work out an alternative form of payment, it sounded like she needed to find someone else.

Anyway, I figured I'd share the story here. Hopefully, it'll help my fellow artists and warn people about the dangers of scams.

Thank you for reading! You can find more information on overpayment scams here and here is a link to spotting the signs of an art scam.

#artist on tumblr #art scam #psa

[moonsunpenguin]

DFF Episode 7 Thoughts and Analysis (sort of)

Trigger warnings: DFF episode 7 (this episode should be a trigger warning itself), bullying, coercion, unconsented recording, SA, (if I forgot to add some please let me know).

It’s been a bit more than 72 hours since I watched episode 7. I can’t believe it actually took me 3 days to collect my thoughts and write them. But before I begin, I would just like to first say: WHAT THE F*CK EP7!

Sorry, I just have to get that off my chest. -_-

The whole episode was a LOT. Non was still bullied by the group, creepy Mr. Keng happened, the whole money problem… but we were given the glimpse of Phee and Non being in love and happy and just be cute (just a glimpse coz 5 minutes is so short a montage, we need more happy Non!).

Phee and Non Their getting together was such a cute thing to watch. They were happy and in love with couple bracelets to prove it.

It was like how coming of age stories are portrayed- with the color temperature (filter?) on the warm side (will tackle this more later) and everything looking vibrant. Until Non opened up about the whole horse accounts to Phee. The color temperature changed drastically back to the show’s usual cool color temp, that could be the show’s way of showing that this is NOT a sweet coming of age story.

Phee’s hero complex We are also shown a glimpse of Phee’s possible hero complex when he told Non that there’s no problem he won’t solve for Non. And that’s right after he lied to his Dad to save Non. We see how uncomfortable (guilty?) Non got after he learned about it. Because, yes, Phee helped solve one of Non’s problems (not going to jail) but the action made him feel that he was burdening and endangering Phee with his problems. This fear/guilt made him want to keep the rest of his problems to himself. Phee was his safe haven and he wanted to keep Phee safe too but he won’t be able to do that if he tells him his problems as Phee would definitely try and solve it for him. And at 16/17, there’s really not much he can do. Definitely not produce 300K in a snap of a finger.

Keng From his introduction in ep5, the audience were given the hint that he’s sleazy and the praises and faux concern he showed in ep6 just added to that. I was really hoping that they wouldn't go there in ep7 but they did. Non was a victim! He was vulnerable, on a tight deadline from Tee’s uncle and nobody to ask for help from. He couldn’t ask his parents (they’re barely getting by and still need to send money to New), he couldn’t as Phee, and he couldn’t ask his “friends” as they’re the reason he’s in this mess in the first place, so when someone (an adult) told him he can give him the money he took the offer. And Non’s a smart kid, he knew nothing was ever given free in this world. He knew jerk Keng wanted something in return.

Tee I really don’t get Tee. Like what exactly was his problem? Non had already given him the money. Where Non got it from should be none of his business. Though, yeah, it makes sense that he may want to know just in case Non was actually working with the police as that’s what he was concerned about when Non got acquitted of all charges for the horse accounts but still tho… If Tee could’ve just left it alone and not asked Top to spy for him.

Non Non just didn’t get a second to breathe this episode (not including the montage in the beginning as I feel like those were flashbacks within the flashback). He realized his boyfriend lied to his Dad (the police) for him. He realized Phee was willing to go any lengths for him. And with the small snippets of his family life we’re shown, we see how he only sees himself as a burden, only bringing problems. And I feel like this is one of the reasons he didn’t tell Phee all his problems, he’s afraid Phee would then see how he’s just a burden. So, he tried to solve it on his own, sadly Keng sniffed his vulnerability and took advantage of it. The way he hugged Phee and reassured him that everything was alright and to just trust him, was so heart-wrenching. It felt like he was so close to breaking but he would not want to be a burden. We were also shown that despite how horrible Tee treated him, he was still trying to look out for him. Even to the point of trying to steer Keng away when he saw him looking at Tee’s page. When Keng said he wanted to help Tee too, you could just see Non was scared. He knew what Keng’s “help” could mean.

Jin What Jin did this episode was not cool: convincing Non to stay until the film was done, recording without consent and thinking of posting it online. I still feel like he could maybe have done something worse than what has been shown this episode. In the present timeline he was saying he was a coward. Was it because he cowardly hid behind the anonymity the internet offers after posting the video? Did he even post the video? Or did he run away from something worse that he was a part of 3 years ago?

Color Temperature, Saturation and Vibrance The only time they used warm color temp was during the PheeNon sweet dates montage they also bumped the vibrance for those scenes. It could be that they want to indicate that it’s all flashback within the flashback or it could be that the show wanted to convey that those were happy memories for Non, that Phee added the colors into his life. The show also slowly lost it's saturation and the vibrance decreased as the episode progressed until everything just looked dull at the end. Non lost his safe haven, the only person helping him hold on.

Other thoughts Phee’s “just get lost and die” to Non this episode tho, I don’t think those were his last words to him. I think episode 6’s last scene with him saving Non and apologizing was after that (I’d like to believe that he got to apologize for what he said and they talk it out and ran off into the sunset, happy).

I hope the next episode wouldn’t be as heavy as this one but from the preview, I think it would be even worse. 😔

#dead friend forever #dff the series #dff #dff episode 7

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

So the One Piece themed cooking blog idea I mentioned a week or two ago (or maybe a month I have no concept of the passage of time).

For anyone who missed it, I've been considering making a cooking blog for a very long time, but I wasn't sure how I wanted to go about it.

More recently I got a brainworm that wouldn't go away about creating one written primarily from the point of view of Sanji, also featuring Zeff and other characters, providing recipes and tips and ideas and foodie content in general.

Aaanyway. I'm starting to gather content for it. Kinda want to have enough content for at least three to four recipes before I start, but since the vote was 100% that I should do it and it's not a totally dumb idea...I'mma do it.

Some details for anyone that's interested in this nonsense:

Asks. The blog will be open to suggestions and any asks for cooking advice/tips. I can't promise I'll be able to answer all recipe suggestions in a timely manner, it will depend on my time and ability to procure ingredients.

Recipes. My own recipes range widely, I enjoy experimenting so I'm open to trying absolutely ANYTHING. That being said, again, I may not be able to readily procure ingredients only available in specific regions.

Resources. Money is a thing. Please don't ask me to make things involving ingredients like waygu steak or foie gras, I still have bills to pay 👀 That being said, I still have resources that I can ask about using such ingredients, and maybe one day I may be able to procure them myself.

Skill Level. Recipes and tips will be as detailed as possible, to ensure that anyone interested in trying them, at any skill level, will be able to. I'm primarily self-taught, with some instruction from family/friends that have professional experience in the culinary industry, so I understand that some terms and techniques are essentially a foreign language to those without much experience. I want to engage anyone interested in cooking at any level, so I'll make sure to provide explanations for terms and ingredients that might not be common knowledge to everyone.

Categories. All culinary pursuits will apply. Stovetop, oven, roasting, baking, frying, sautéing, braising, stewing, etc., as well as tips on utensils and tools. Constraints in that I do not own an airfryer or an Instapot, but I don't think those exist in the One Piece universe anyway; I'm not a fan of crockpots/slowcookers since I can make the same recipes without one, but I'm still willing to accept that they can be convenient; and I also have very little practical experience in pickling or preserving, but again, I'm always open to trying new things when it comes to food.

Extras Cooking/foodie memes are inspiration, and I'm happy to be bombarded with them.

Theme General theme will be the concept of "family meal," which refers to the meals that the restaurant staff tends to share between peak business hours. While the blog will primarily be run by Sanji and Zeff, there will be other characters that show up to share their insights. One of my original characters is planning to appear as well, but I'm keeping her on a short leash because of her attitude problems.

Very Important: Same as this blog, it will be a safe space. You should never be afraid to ask anything. We don't learn if we don't ask questions, and no question is a stupid question.

Essentially, I want it to be a fun and inclusive experience for everyone, whether you're interested in One Piece or cooking or both.

I'll let everyone know once I have it actually set up. But for anyone interested, you're more than welcome to send any thoughts/concerns/suggestions/ideas/questions/etc to me here in the meantime.