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peterparkouryo · 2 months

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fell from the sky into my lap | ⍣ ೋ

⍣ ೋ

prompt; You encounter a very charming boy on the train.

warning: fluff, fluff, and did i mention fluff?

word count: 1.5k

a/n: meet cute!! i missed writing <3 (also ignore the fact that i used this gif once b4, feel free to send me tom gifs for future fics 😭)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

You step out of Midtown High, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. You had decided to stay after school, opting to have a small study session with a few of your friends for an upcoming test for the gruesome mathematics class, also known as calculus. The weight of your backpack pulls slightly at your shoulders as you make your way down the stairs of the school building, balmy wind blusters against your skin. Descending down the stairs finally, you keep your head down and walk across the football field, creating a safe distance between you and the ongoing practice taking place.

What seemed forever, but in reality was maybe a good two to three minute walk off the school grounds, you head toward the train station. The familiar hum of chatter and the rhythmic clack of shoes on the sidewalk fill the air, blending into a comforting soundtrack of the end of the school day.

As you approach the station, the distant sound of a train horn echoes, signalling its arrival. Just in time, you thought to yourself. You quicken your pace, the excitement of heading home, mixed with the anticipation of the journey itself, propelling you forward. The station is a bustling hub of activity, with students, commuters, and travelers weaving in and out of the crowd.

You swipe your transit card at the turnstile, the beep granting you passage onto the platform. The cool, metallic scent of the train station mingles with the faint aroma of fresh coffee from the nearby café. You glance up at the electronic display board, noting the arrival time of your train. It's right on schedule.

The train glides into the station with a soft hiss of brakes and a rush of wind. The doors slide open, inviting you inside. You step onto the train, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the warmth outside. You find a seat by the window and settle in, reaching into your backpack and digging through to find your wired headphones, despite begging your parents for regular ones.

You open your phone, clicking the green app for music, scrolling through many playlists you've obsessively created for various different scenarios. Picking a playlist you don't remember creating, you let out a tired yawn and sit back, wandering your eyes to the left, and daydreaming about your bed.

The train ride was relatively quiet, aside from a crying baby (not that you could hear it, but breaking your daydream to observe your surroundings, you could see a crying baby), and the loud music blasting in your ears.

For the next six minutes, the music from your headphones consumed your ears, guaranteed to worsen your hearing in the next twenty years or so. You were at an unusual ease you normally don't feel when you're alone on a train by yourself. It could do with the fact that there was maybe five or six people onboard, you weren't too sure.

You lay your head back against the seat and stare out the window, the passing buildings rapidly leaving your vision. A bored sigh leaves your lips, the spotify ad only adding onto the exhaustion you felt.

The train stops, indicating people were either leaving or stepping on the train, and you tear your gaze away from the window out of curiosity, watching a couple people swipe their transit cards. You notice the last person, a boy with hair as brown as a bear, swipe his card more than once, and you can only assume something was wrong.

The more you watch the boy struggle, the more you feel bad because not only was the operator getting impatient, the passengers moan and groan as well. Slowly you dig into your pocket for your card, standing up and swiftly walking to the front of the train. Showing the boy a friendly smile, you glance at the operator, who's eyebrows were furrowed and a permanent frown carved onto his face.

"Um, he can use my card." You say unsurely, not entirely positive thats even how transit cards work.

The man narrows his eyes and stares between you and the boy for a good while before he exhales a huff.

"Go ahead, you're holding up my line." He mumbles and you furrow your eyebrows and glance behind you, seeing that it was only the boy and no one else, but you decide not to say anything about it.

You swipe the transit card, watching the red dot change to green, and the boy sighs in relief.

"Thank you." He says, watching your every move as you put your card back into your pocket.

You nod and your eyes drift to his face, studying him carefully, because boy, he was gorgeous. The boy had eyes just as brown as his hair, maybe even a little lighter with the golden specks straggling within them. If anyone was lucky (such as yourself) to stand so close to him, one might be able to see the small barely visible, but undeniably delightful freckles scattered across his nose.

Your eyes trail down to his lips, but not in a weird way, the small smile etched on his face captivated you and deep in your stomach, you swore you felt butterflies erupt. The smile was warm and inviting, and one of his most endearing features, capable of lighting up his entire face. It gave him a friendly, yet approachable demeanour.

He was the kind of person who had the-boy-next-door kind of vibe, and you can't help but gaze longer than intended, making him uncomfortable in a way you had no intentions of doing.

So, you clear your throat, and quickly look at your shoes.

"Its no problem." You mutter.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

That challenge, however quickly crashes when you glance at him only to see him gazing back, in a way that wasn't entirely creepy, but cumbersome for the both of you. You do your best to show him a smile, cringing slightly when you realize its more of a nervous grimace than what you intended.

Though, he shows no signs of being weirded out by your so called "smile", he waves as you wave back. A rush of warmth and pleasantry overtakes you when he looks away. You'd think this is the first time any boy has ever showed you this much attention, no matter how little it might have been.

Minutes pass in a blur as the train carries you forward, each moment seamlessly blending into the next. Ultimately, you reach your stop and you gather your things, albeit a bit reluctantly. As you leave, you bite your lower lip and share a scrutiny when you walk past him, making your exit off the train.

While you step off the train, and make it your mission to ascend up the stairs, a hand purchases on your shoulder causing you to flinch fearfully, many thoughts running through your head as you make the stupid decision to turn around to face the culprit.

All fears subside once you meet the familiar chestnut brown eyes of the boy from the train.

He realizes your initial fear and holds up your tangled headphones. "You left these on the train." He blinks.

"Thank you." You obligate, retrieving the headphones from his hand.

The boy nods and buries his hands in his pocket, unwieldy looking around.

You tilt your head as a thought comes about.

"Is this your stop?" You wonder.

He breaks his train of thought and stares right at you before laughing awkwardly. "Um, no my stop was actually three more blocks away." He informs and guilt fills you at that information.

"Oh, I'm sorry," You apologize, frowning.

He shakes his head quickly.

"No, its fine I was just going to stop at Delmar's anyway." He reassures and smiles, holding out his hand.

"Also, I'm Peter by the way, Peter Parker."

You return the smile and shake Peter's hand at his dorky introduction, speaking your name in greeting.

"I know, we share a gym class." Peter says.

You blink at the revelation, having no idea he even went to Midtown. Small world, you think.

"Anyway, is it okay if I walk you up the stairs, in a non weird way that seems creepy." Peter offers shyly, interrupting the barely there silence. There was something about his adorably dunce proposal that made you appreciate him despite only knowing the boy for ten minutes at most.

"Sure." You agree all too eagerly.

With new found courage, you and Peter make your way up the stairs of the train station and you're greeted with the bustling New York city, of what you can only describe as chaotic, honking cars and fellow civilians either on their arguing or arguing on their phones.

You felt excited to be walking next to Peter, no matter how small your interactions have been or how little you two new each other, you were grateful for his presence.

Grateful that you decided to take the train. Had you would've walked, only god knows what could've happened, the foreign feeling of butterflies in your stomach would not had been, that's for certain.

taglist: @victoriousskylar @imawhoreforu @myfangirlinessononeblog

shoutout to the divider account: @saradika-graphics

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff

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toms-cherry-trees · 6 months

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"Look After You" || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Time and distance cannot break certain promises

Word count: 4.2k

Tags: Mentions of war, mental asylums, unjust imprisonment, mentions of controversial mental health treatments, cross dressing (?), implications of violence against women, illness, no betareading we go in raw

Author's note: You might have seen this post where I mention the life of Dorothy Lawrence. Well this is very loosely based on her life mixed with Tommy's story. Left it very open to a part 2 if people like the premise.

(Yes my people watch me put together moodboards instead of choosing gifs)

Requested tag (hope not to disappoint) @brummiereader @emotionalcadaver

The asylum stood tall and imponent before Tommy’s gaze, its towering central dome and flanking turrets framed by the bright sun rays of a cheerful spring afternoon. The radiant gardens contrasted dramatically with the derelict state of the building itself; rusty and broken drainpipes hanging from the roof, rotten wood frames and shattered window panes, missing chunks of brick on the walls, revealing the inner framing and plaster. Nothing about that place inspired trust to those who crossed its threshold, let alone hopes of betterment. The lamentable exterior stood like the perfect match of the decadence within.

The smell of rot assaulted him the second he entered. The paint had started to peel off, and moisture stains crawled across walls and ceiling. Most windows in the main hall were shuttered, and the incandescent light bulbs did little to cut through the darkness, casting a sickly shadow over the room. The orderly that welcomed him in the entrance had an embittered face, and he questioned Tommy on his name, whom he was visiting and his reasons to. He patted him down and overturned his pockets, making him leave behind anything that could be used to harm or be harmed. Cap, cigar case, lighter, sleeve garters and shoelaces stayed behind while another orderly led him through long hallways and endless locked doors towards the morning hall where he’d meet the purpose of his visit.

Finally, they stopped before a wide set of oaken double doors with panels of rubbed glass, which allowed him a faint peek of what happened on the other side. The orderly barely opened the door enough to enter himself and told Tommy to wait outside, as if he feared something may escape from within given the chance. After a few minutes he returned, leaving the gap open for Tommy to pass through.

“Sister Janice will take you to her. Don’t look at other patients. Don’t talk to other patients. If they come to you, ignore them. Don’t take anything they give you”

Perplexed, curious and mostly annoyed by all the delays, Tommy ducked under the orderly’s arm while he held the door open. As soon as he stepped inside the orderly let go, and the door closed behind him with a heavy click.

The sudden brightness hurt his eyes after the unceasing darkness, and Tommy had to squint briefly as his pupils grew accustomed to his surroundings. An ample hall stretched before him, arch windows spanning from floor to ceiling lining the west and north walls. Moth eaten draperies of blue velvet had been drawn back to allow sunlight in, in hopes of insufflating some life into the gelid heart of the asylum.

The room had surely once been a magnificent ballroom, but had now been reduced to the sad, dirty, abandoned alcove where the non-aggressive patients spent most of their waking hours, some engaged in the very few activities offered to them, others dragging their feet and mumbling to themselves like lost souls, their gazes absent and their appearance unkempt. Not one person appeared to have a coherent thought there, and Tommy wondered if it was due to their own ailments, or due to the medicines the nurses forced down their throats to keep them tame and peaceful, albeit stupid.

As Tommy walked past, he couldn't help but notice the way his presence drew attention from them. The patients stopped in their tracks to stare at him as if he were the most marvellous wonder they had ever seen. They pointed at him, uttering incoherences and laughing at jokes no one else heard. Some tried to get close but were forced back with a sharp gesture by the nun accompanying him, whom only now Tommy noticed, carried a mean looking leather strap, hanging side by side with a rosary from her cord belt.

At long last, she came into view. Slouched on a rocking chair facing the windows, a ragged purple cardigan thrown over a white, floor length dress, resembling more a nightgown than any sort of decent clothing. A white linen cap covered her hair, and Tommy noticed that the ties had been removed, as had been from the rest of her garments. She looked thinner, thinner even than she did in France. She gave no indication that she had noticed their presence, her dulled eyes fixated on the gardens outside.

“I have it from here, sister” Tommy dismissed the nun with a wave of his hand, dragging a nearby stool to sit next to the woman.

“I’m sorry Mr. Shelby, but I cannot allow you to be unsupervised with a patient. She seems tame now, but who knows what atrocities a woman of sin like her might commit”

Tommy wanted to snort. She barely looked strong enough to hold herself in the chair, how could she harm anyone?

“She won’t attack me sister” Tommy insisted “Now step back, and I will make sure the asylum is handsomely rewarded for your troubles.”

The nun opened her mouth, ready to argue, but then chose against it. The asylum could do with some extra coin, after all. She straightened up and smoothed her habit, perhaps a way to reinstate her authority that Tommy had so brazenly challenged.

“You have half an hour” She stated at last before walking away towards a group of patients who were seemingly arguing over a doll.

Tommy’s gaze returned to the woman in front of him, who continued to be absent from the world around her, and who gave no sign of life other than the steady rising and falling of her shoulders with each breath. Thomas allowed the pause to linger between them a few seconds longer, but he didn’t want to waste his allotted time. He wouldn’t put it past these people to drag him out like that; the laws of men did not apply in these sorts of places.

He called her name softly, in a nearly soothing whisper. Once, twice, thrice, yet it did not do to her more than the drafts howling through the broken panes or the maniac laughs of the patients around them. He didn’t want to touch her and risk startling her, but he didn’t want to spend his visit staring at her left cheek. He took his last chance, using this time a different name, a name he had not pronounced since 1915.

“Private Anders”

The name stirred something in her mind. Her back straightened a bit and her features quivered in recognition. Slowly, stiffly, she turned towards Tommy, her eyebrows first furrowing in confusion then rising in surprise.

“Sergeant Major?” Her shock could not be disguised, and she readied to rise and salute, but Tommy motioned for her to remain seated.

“At ease, private”

Tommy recalled perfectly the first day he saw her. They were stationed near Albert, digging up a new front line as they tried to gain terrain from the Germans. The troops from the British Expeditionary Force and the 179th tunnelling company consisted mostly of coal miners, all turned sappers whose task was to ready up the land for battle. The clay rich soil basically melted between their fingers when it rained, making the digging of trenches and shelters a never-ending battle. The dampness crept up their legs and seeped into their bones, and Tommy had seen one too many soldiers whose feet rotted inside their boots. Even the strongest men, used to work from sun to sun in the depths of the coal mines breathing dust and methane, would sometimes succumb to the elements.

Tommy worked paired with Tom Dunn, a man as thick of back as he was of skull. He could easily lift an adult man and throw him across the field like a sack of potatoes, and legend has it he pulled the coal carts in the mine when the horses couldn’t. If left to it, he could probably dig out the trench with only his hands and his helmet.

He had been the one to introduce Tommy to her. Dunn had hidden that little lunatic in an abandoned cottage, not too far from where the troops were stationed. Somehow, she had obtained a uniform, which she had padded with cotton wool to flatten her curves and broaden her shoulders. Her hair had been cut in a military style, scrapes on her cheeks simulated a shaving rash, and potassium permanganate attempted to sharpen her jaw and cheekbones with dark shadows.

She slept in a damp mattress, with little more than a threadbare blanket to keep her warm; she had no means of acquiring something better, nor could she light a fire in the dusty hearth for fear of being discovered. Dunn had been feeding her with whatever he could spare from his own rations or snatch from others, which meant she had been eating the minimum for survival, since the woods offered nothing but naked branches at that time of year.

Tommy had been left thunderstruck, far too much to react properly. A million questions came to his lips, and a million died there as his mind couldn’t exactly put into words what he wanted to know. His gaze flickered between them both, who looked at him pleadingly like a couple of children asking their parents to stay up late. His first instinct was to call up their superior and hand her over to them, for her own safety, but then he thought about it better. The things that could happen to her if he handed her over to the war office…and that’s it, if they handed her over in the first place, or chose to make justice themselves.

No, for the sake of her safety and his conscience, he would play along with them for now.

“What is your name?” He inquired, a simple question to cut through the gelid silence that had befallen them.

For an answer, she handed Tommy papers and a matching dog tag. Forgeries, most likely, and very good ones, which meant she spent money on those. Paying from her own pocket to go to war

They held each other's gaze for endless seconds. At long last, Tommy offered a handshake.

“Welcome to the 179th tunnelling company, Private John Anders. I’ll look after you”

Tommy hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the meeting. The person who sat before him, hunched and dirty and completely lost to the world, bore no resemblance to the fiery, and perhaps a little unhinged, woman that had gone through every length to infiltrate herself in the front line. Years of memory seemed to have been erased from her mind, but she recalled vividly everything she went through in her time in France. She did not know the day and year she lived in but could easily recite the names of every man she met from the 179th, as well as every technique they implemented to dig out the clay.

Tommy was sure that, if he were to put a shovel in her hands, she would unconsciously start digging.

He had partly placated his worries by placing a nurse in the asylum, one handpicked by Polly and paid out of his own pocket, to look after her. But that solution felt like not enough. Not by a mile. What that place did to her, what they were turning her into…Killing her bit by bit, stripping away her sanity to erase from her any memory she held of those weeks in the front. He still recalled the tunnel collapse, when the rain-soaked clay began to crumble over them like cold tar, obscuring their vision and sticking their feet to the ground. How the men dragged out each other, coated from head to toe in the reddish paste. She had tripped, her foot had gotten stuck, he couldn’t tell anymore. All he knew was that she had been left behind, and he had re-entered the tunnel for her. Feeling his way through the darkness, keeping an eye on the entrance, calling her name out; her fake name, for even in the face of danger he had the mental fortitude to remember the importance of her cover up. How she dropped her own facade, her fearful voice calling him as she stretched her arm towards him.

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy

“Tommy!” Billowed an angered female voice, dragging his thoughts back to the present time.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, attempting to dissipate the fogs of the past that laid over them. Because he was not in the tunnels, nor in the Western front. He was sitting in his office, behind his desk, nursing a whiskey in his hands and with Polly sitting across him, equally angered and perplexed at her nephew’s inattention.

“You know I don’t appreciate my words being wasted”. It sounded like a threat, but half of the things Polly said usually did “If you had no interest in this briefing, you could have rescheduled our meeting”.

“You hate your time being wasted” Tommy pointed out.

“Which is exactly what you’re doing now” She remarked.

Silence lingered in the office while Polly lit a new cigarette and Tommy downed his drink, which had already begun to warm in his hands. He stood to pour another, which he finished almost immediately.

“So” Polly began, exhaling the smoke in an elegant blow “Will you tell me what’s on your mind?” As usual, Polly could see through him as easily as one would do through a clean glass. It unnerved him sometimes, to be laid open so vulnerably under her watchful gaze.

“It’s nothing” Tommy sat before the fire; hands laced behind his head in an attempt to seem relaxed.

“There’s been many things on your mind, Tommy, and nothing has never been one of them”. Polly’s slender fingers ran across the glass bottles on the bar cart before settling on gin, pouring herself a more than generous serving.

“You’re thinking of her”.

Tommy immediately thought of denying it, but what was the point? When Polly knew, no one could tell her otherwise. And as much as he hated others meddling in his business, the words came tumbling before he could hold them back.

“I’m just worried. She’s not the same she used to be. I don’t know what they do to her in that place, but she’s changed. Those medicines they give her, and who knows what else they’ve done. You know the treatments” He shook his head, as if to dismiss everything he said “Just worried”

“It’s been many years since you last saw her. Everyone changed after the war. God knows you did”.

“This is not the same. They’re killing her there” Tommy stared up at the ceiling, as if hoping to find a solution to his problems in the plaster. Polly only watched him, pondering over her next words carefully. She only hoped she would not regret whatever her nephew chose to do next.

“If her wellbeing worries you so, you have to do the right thing”

He frowned, turning to look at her with confusion clear in his eyes. Polly sipped the gin, swirling it around her mouth as she gave it a last thought. This was one of the far and few times in which Tommy proved he had a heart, and that softened her as well.

“If you are worried, you act. If they’re killing her in there, you get her out”

The sun had finally shone upon the soldiers after nearly a week of bad weather, when rain and fog had turned the living conditions in the trenches into nearly inhumane. The soldiers were happy, for they would no longer shiver until their bones ached, and they would at last be able to put their clothes and themselves to dry. The tunnellers were less than pleased, for the sun had dried the clay into a solid wall, forcing them to exhaust their muscles to dig out chunks the size of their heads while the sweat ran down their temples and backs. Their comrades kept them supplied with water, but it felt like pouring water on a bottomless bucket.

Tommy worked side by side with her. Him. Her. Her identity still got tied in his mind, and he had to think through every word addressed in her direction for fear of blowing her cover. He watched her out of the corner of the eye as she swung the pickaxe with a strength and determination he never expected to see in a woman. Despite her resilience, Tommy worried about her, and kept a watchful gaze for any sign of exhaustion. She could not afford to be taken ill or injured, for a trip to the medical tent would be enough to unravel all her carefully crafted lies. He had to take care of her.

They both worked in the very end of the trench, and the sounds around them would conceal any hushed conversation. Tommy’s curiosity was stronger than his willpower

“Why?”

She didn’t react at first, and Tommy thought she either didn’t listen to him, or chose to ignore him, both of which were valid. But before he could ask again, she whispered back, keeping her manly tone

“Why what?”

“Why come here? What sane person would come here, on her own free will, to be forced into coldness and starvation? Risk your life, and for what purpose? Couldn’t find good places to dig back in England?”

She snorted, the sound quite lighter than any man’s laugh, so she concealed it by clearing her throat

“I wanted to serve my country, same as you. Is there any sin on that?”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night to sleep?”

She stopped digging for a moment, leaving the pickaxe embedded in the clay. She sat in the upturned bucket they used as stool, wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. She couldn’t work shirtless, and their uniforms had been made to shield from the cold only. Tommy offered her water; she drank a sip and poured the rest on her head. He noticed her hair had grown again, and curled behind her ears. He made a mental note to give her a trim after nightfall.

“I just wanted to see what it was like. What it really was. They don’t tell us the truth back home. The newspapers make it sound as if the front is almost peaceful and the men are just laying back eating turkey while the Germans fall a hundred a day. I wanted the truth, and I want to write about it. Make a book of all the lies they fed us home.”

Her reasoning didn’t sit well with him. All that effort, that trouble, that risk, just to figure out if war was as bad as she thought? Mad, mad in the head this one.

“And what does your family think you’re doing away from home?”

She scratched her chin, in the same way Tommy did when he got a shaving rash from his blunt razors. She had picked up male mannerisms quite fast, particularly his own

“Not much family left to care what I do or stop doing. I said I’d come to France to volunteer as a nurse, but they most likely think I came as a camp follower. If they knew what I’m up to, they would have me committed to the closest madhouse”

“The madhouse is where you belong” Tommy replied, albeit jokingly, as he stopped his work to pull out a cigarette from his pocket. But he was interrupted by a ball of clay being tossed at his face with masterful precision, dampened for maximum effect.

“Shut up, Sergeant Major”

Blue skies and a pleasant breeze welcomed them at the gates of Arrow House. Tommy chose to drive this time, taking the advice from the doctor who would oversee her care, who suggested she be exposed to the least amount of people possible during the first days as she adjusted to life outside. Only Tommy, Frances and the nurse who would be her primary caretaker.

She stared at the world around her with such wonder, like a blind whose sight had been restored. Every tree, every bird, the very landscape that surrounded his manor brought such wonder onto her face, like a child with a Christmas tree. Her happiness almost managed to convince him that this was, in fact, a good idea.

When Polly told him to get her out, he knew she meant to put her in a home of her own, with a caretaker, and allow her to have a life of her own. And Tommy considered the idea, for a while. To place her in a nice neighbourhood, in a house with a garden and a balcony where she could enjoy the sun, with a nurse and maids and a car. But it didn’t sit right with him. She had been alone ever since they took her. Imprisoned until the war ended, and then released only to be taken to the madhouse at first chance. Not one familiar face around her for nearly a decade. No, Tommy wouldn’t take her out of a cage just to put her back in a smaller, prettier one. She needed someone to protect her. And for better or worse, that one could only be Tommy.

When the car came to a halt, she was the first one out, gaping at the imponent state which Tommy owned.

“Is this where you live, Sergeant Major?” The wonder was palpable in her voice. But the only thing Tommy noticed was that after everything she still couldn’t find it in her to call him by his name.

“2000 acres of land, of which 12 are just garden, and 750 acres of farming land”

She cocked an eyebrow, and in the amused twinkle of her eyes Tommy saw a glimpse of the one she used to be.

“Are you a farmer now, sir?” She disguised her laugh behind the handkerchief she insisted on carrying, looking down like a bashful schoolgirl.

Tommy pulled out a cigarette; he felt the corner of his lips pulled into the shadow of a smile, pleased to see her spirits lifted.

“My business is more focused on progress and modernity, but I wouldn’t reject the idea. Perhaps one day it’ll come in hand to have crops and cows”

“That would be the bloody day” She didn’t even try to hide her laughter this time “Our mighty Sergeant Major, dressed in overalls and with mud up to his knees shovelling cow shit”

“I find myself more interested in horse shit these days. Come on, I’ll show you around”

Tommy gave her a complete tour of the house and adjacent grounds, both to show her everything that would be at her complete disposal, and also as a way to show off how far he had come since they were both in the trenches, hunched over a meagre fire lit inside an empty can and sharing a homemade cigarette made from tobacco leftovers. Her eyes were wide with wonder, her fingers running over tapestries, leathers and carved wood with childlike wonder

He saved her room for last. A wide bedroom at the very back of the house, situated in a corner with plenty of windows. It had a view of the back of the state, so she could enjoy the gardens, the horses and the surrounding woods. In the corner with the most sunlight Tommy had placed a writing desk, supplied with paper, pens, ink and a brand new typewriter. Amidst everything sat a bunch of old and worn pages, all of different sizes and materials, kept together nicely with leather cord. She picked it up gingerly, running her thumb over the first page. Even though the paper was stained and dusty, the words could be read as easily as the first day she wrote them.

Tears flooded her eyes, and she hugged the improvised diary to her chest like it was a most prized possession. And perhaps it was. She turned towards Tommy, a mixture of bewilderment and eternal gratitude plastered on her features

“Where did you get it? I thought they would have had it destroyed when they locked me up”

Tommy only smirked, pulling out a cigarette from the golden case he carried “Remember what I told you? Always make sure someone owes you something”

That gesture, so small yet so meaningful, shifted something inside her. Her eyes brimmed with tears she attempted to fight, but they won in the end. She practically jumped into Tommy’s arms, hugging him with the eagerness of a person who has been denied a caring touch for far too long.

“How will I ever be able to thank you enough, Sergeant Major?”

His free arm circled her frame, returning the gesture

“You can start by calling me Tommy”

Worry crept up Tommy’s spine as the higher ups did their rounds to inspect the work on the freshly dug trenches. It had been three days since she last showed up, and he would soon run out of lies to cover up for “Private Anders’” absence.

As much as she tried to deny it, finally the harsh conditions had caught up to her. Her health had gone down a slippery slope with the arrival of winter. First it had been just a fretless dry cough, easily softened with pine tea. But then came the bone pains, the headaches, the constant fatigue. The dampness of her safe haven had seeped into her bones and caused some sort of rheumatism. Tommy noticed the swelling of her hands as they struggled to grip the pickaxe. Her hair began to fall out in clumps.

The shivers and the fever had finally knocked her off her feet. She had been unable to leave her cottage, which in turn worsened her condition even further. Tommy had tried to bring her something more substantial to eat, but she seemed unable to eat more than a few bites of stale bread dipped in some coffee the Americans had given them. Dry, suffocating coughs racked her body until she had to gasp for air, her teeth and lips speckled with blood.

“This is the end line” She had mumbled weakly during the third night, while Tommy tried to desperately convince her to light a fire to warm and dry the place

“No. You are not going to die. I won’t allow it. I told you I��d take care of you” He stated firmly, sitting on the floor by her side with her hand in his, his other one cupping her feverish cheek. He had been in a similar spot, not too long ago. Watching life fade away from a young woman’s eyes. He refused to let her die, not like that, not there where he would have to dump her body in the river.

“I am not going to die” She stated with a conviction her current condition didn’t match “But to survive, I have to turn myself in”

The idea of handing her over to the war office filled Tommy with panic

“No, no you cannot do that. Do you have any idea what they could do to you? Your best prospect would be to be thrown in jail, to be given 10 years for impersonating a soldier. And that’s if the higher ups are feeling compassionate” He shuddered at thinking what those wolves would do to her “Listen, I get leave tomorrow night. I’ll go to the nearest town, get some medicine, maybe I can pawn some things and get you a new blanket. You-”

“No” With great effort, she propped herself up in one elbow. Tommy couldn’t help but notice the strands of hair left in the pillow “I’ve implicated you long enough. The excuses and lies you have made for me are enough to have you dishonourably discharged and tried. You have done everything you could for me, and for that I am forever indebted to you, Sergeant Major. This next chapter in my life, I have to write it alone”

She sounded dejected and disappointed, as if she had failed some unwritten expectation of her adventure. But Tommy thought quite the opposite. He only felt admiration for the things she had put herself through in order to tell her story. He still thought she was mad in the head, but in a completely different way

“Will you mention my name when you write your book?” He asked jokingly, helping her lay back down slowly, pulling the ragged blanket up to her chin

“Only if you want to be jailed next to me for helping an intruder” She laughed, but the sound was cut short by another fit of coughing “I’ll dedicate it to you, Sergeant Major. Everything I write and do will be because of you”

Tommy awoke with a startle. His eyes were wide open, darting around the room as he tried to locate the source of the disturbance. Everything seemed to be calm in his room. And then it happened again. A dry thud in the wall, followed by a muffled scream.

In a heartbeat he was out of bed, gun in hand. He followed the noises, which seemed to grow louder the closer he got to her bedroom. The door was ajar, allowing a sliver of moonlight to project in the floor, in which Tommy could see two shadows moving.

He stormed inside, gun ready to fire. But he didn’t find an intruder, no. Just her, on her knees, banging her fists against the wall as she screamed. Her nurse stood by her side, amidst a disaster of clothes and books and other objects, unsuccessfully trying to coax her back to bed

“Miss, please. The hour is quite late. You need sleep”

“No, no. The walls are coming down. We have to get out, the roof’s collapsing!” She yelled desperately, clawing at the wall trying to dig herself out of some dark place that only existed in her head. He saw her nails tear the wallpaper with ferocity. And then he noticed the nurse unlocking a cabinet and pulling out a syringe

“No” He said almost immediately as he put a firm hand on the nurse’s arm “Go to bed. I have this”

“But Mr. Shelby!”

“I said go. Leave me with her”

The nurse doubted, holding his gaze, but chose to exit the room, closing the door behind her.

Tommy walked towards her slowly, afraid he would startle her. He gingerly touched her arm, but his presence went as unnoticed as a speck of dust. He called out her name, again and again, without success. The mud had seeped deep in her brain, as it had done his, and blocked her senses from the outside world. In order to get through, Tommy had to get into the mud with her

He stood tall, in martial position, hands behind his back

“Private Anders!”

Quick like a lightning bolt, she stood up and saluted in a firm position. Tears streaked her face and her entire body quivered like an autumn leaf

“Sergeant Major sir!”

“At ease, private. You are relieved of your duties. Time to go back home”

Like the lifting of a spell, her eyes glossed over as she blinked slowly, looking around her from the bed, to the things she had thrown around in haste, and finally towards Tommy. Her lower lip quivered

“What is happening to me?”

Her knees faltered. Tommy lunged forward before she could hit herself, coming down to the floor with her held in his arms. She burrowed herself in his chest, her fingers clinging to his shirt as she wept, her body racked by sobs. Tommy shushed her quietly, his fingers carding through her hair

“Don’t cry. I’ll take care of you”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby one shot #marsie writes #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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ms--lobotomy · 5 days

Note

40k Lion being an an absolute freak. A slutty old man. A whore. Anything will do really.

Normally I don't answer requests while they're closed, but @kit-williams has a long overdue birthday gift involving Lion of either type. I was already going to do 40k Lion, but this is the kick in the ass I needed to finally write the fic. Thank you, Anon!

Summary: Lion reunites with an old lover.

Word Count: 649

Content Warnings: This one's real soft but like. Armor kink and breeding and vague NSFW

Image Credit: @squishyowl

You were going to become a mother. At least, that's what he had promised you. Before Horus lost his mind, before the man you loved vanished without so much as telling anyone where he'd gone. Ten thousand years had gone by. Despite your nature as a Perpetual, it was a long and accursed wait for something that might not even happen. Ten thousand years, and you'd not given up for a day.

Someone who'd been the lover of a Primarch would have had to go into hiding for the foreseeable future. So hide you did, moving from planet to remote planet and never staying for more than a few Earthen years. It was late at night while you worked. The noises you heard were like small earthquakes, but rhythmic as one thump superseded another. Right after the last one, you heard a knock.

"Shouldn't you be...?" you asked, words failing you.

"What in the galaxy do you mean?" you heard a familiar voice respond.

It all clicked in your mind. Perhaps the footsteps of a Primarch were so unfamiliar to you nowadays, so otherworldly that you'd mistaken them for something else. You hadn't looked out of any windows, but you saw a familiar shade of green. And you'd recognize the voice anywhere, if it was a little huskier and a little more worn.

"Lion?"

"Indeed," he replied, "now if you could invite me in, that would be quite welcome."

You tilted your head. He was never one to announce his presence, and the Lion you knew would open the door himself if he'd wanted to see you. Oh, well, you've reasoned with yourself. Most people change in ten thousand years. As you approached the door, you saw the familiar etchings in his verdant armor. You opened it and craned your neck up to look at him.

"You've aged," you said softly as he ran a hand along your cheek. His wrinkles were far more pronounced, and his hair was silver instead of the blonde you remembered. His forest-green eyes were the same, and he made rare eye contact with you as the crows feet grew deeper with his smile.

His smile widened. "You haven't," he replied, kneeling down. He slipped a hand behind your knees and lifted you up, his armor cold against your skin.

You relaxed. Despite the metal armor, his hold was as comfortable as your remember. He stood up. You hadn't felt that rush of air in a long while. You were now higher above the ground than you were tall.

He lifted you to his mouth, and you bared your neck as he pressed kiss after soft kiss into it. His whiskers were still rough against your skin, but that was a welcome feeling after going so long without it. Your eyes met again, and you let out a light giggle.

"I've missed you," he mumbled before resuming his activity.

"I've..." you started. How were you even going to begin to describe how you felt, those ten thousand years of sleepless nights waiting for him? That empty feeling of waiting, of not knowing whether your efforts were for nothing. Relief didn't even begin to cover how you were feeling. "I've missed you t-!"

He set you down and knelt before you again, pressing his lips onto yours and pressing you into the side of your house. The straps of your sundress were pushed up and to the side, and your eyes widened as his closed. After a minute, he pulled away.

"Too soon?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"N, no," you whimpered. You made no effort to pull the straps of your dress back up, thanking your lucky stars that you had no neighbors.

"Good," he said. "Now, help me take off my armor. I want to keep my promise to you."

"What-?"

"You're going to become a mother when I'm done with you."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

#warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #lion el'jonson x reader #lion el'jonson #reader insert #warhammer lobotomy #sry all mine have been short i really wish i could be Wordier but i am Not

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juneknight · 1 year

Text

Pleased to Please

The sequel (AKA Jake's Revenge) to Making Trouble.

About this: MK System/fem!reader, use of 'slut' as a term of endearment. An unnecessary amount of gloves. Jake Lockley.

You wake up to Marc pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You hum in pleasure, burrowing deeper into the covers, sleepy enough to miss what he says the first time he says it. His voice rumbles over you again, warm with mirth. His hands work the blanket away from your face, and he repeats himself again:

“I know it’s Sunday, but I have errands to run. Want to come with or stay in?”

You crack one eye open.

The two of you stand at the bus stop leaning against each other to make room for the others who crowd around for the same purpose. Someone jostles into you, and the look Marc gives them is cold—it makes strange butterflies unfold their wings in your belly. You lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, turning his focus back to you.

“What errands do you need to run?” you ask in his ear to make sure you are heard over the rumble of traffic.

“Swapping out supplies,” he says, explaining the duffle bag he has over one shoulder. “Boring stuff, but I’ll buy you coffee after.”

“Now you’re talking.”

The two of you shuffle your way onto the bus. He crowds you protectively, looping an arm around your waist to keep you close while his hand grips the bar to keep you both steady. You’ve gotten used to taking the bus after meeting Steven. Before him, you had walked or taken the tube, not the biggest fan of London drivers. Occasionally, you and Marc would go in on a cab together; you had never felt safe doing such a thing alone. And with Jake…

Your face flames. Leaning in to whisper in Marc’s ear again, you says: “It’s a shame we don’t have Jake’s car, isn’t it?”

Marc’s eyes go heavy-lidded, a smirk tugging up the corners of his mouth. He remembers as well as you do your activities in Jake’s car only days before. He glances towards the window of the bus—likely hearing some colorful commentary from the man in question—before turning his eyes back to yours.

“We’d just end up making more trouble in it, wouldn’t we?” he says back, letting his voice dip low under the guise of privacy, as if he doesn’t know what the timber of it does to you.

“You’re probably right,” you breathe back. “How much further ‘til our stop?”

“Not much. You’re already thinking about going back home aren’t you? Crawling back into bed?”

“As long as you join me.”

“My god, you two are better than television,” says the woman behind you both who has been clearly standing close enough to hear. You jump, startled by her sudden intrusion into your private conversation, embarrassment making your face burn hot. Thank god she had said something before the two of you really got going—

“Mind your business,” Marc says, uncharacteristically cold as he glares at the woman.

Middle-aged, clutching a recyclable tote in her arms, the woman looks like her first instinct is to argue back—perhaps something about how the two of you were making your business right there on a public bus—but the look on Marc’s face stops her words in her throat. She shuts her mouth with a click and nods, awkwardly trying to shuffle to a different spot on the bus to stand.

You frown up at Marc, but he smiles down at you like nothing is wrong. Reaching up, you lay the back of your hand against his forehead. “Are you feeling alright? You’re acting strange.”

It’s Marc’s turn to frown, his head tilting to one side, warm brown eyes roaming over your face.

“What do you mean?” he wonders But before you can answer, Marc glances forward and says: “Shit, this is us.”

He helps you press your way to the front and guides you two back out onto the dreary London street. You glance up at the building, frowning in thought.

“Storage units? Do you have a unit here?”

Marc just grins in answer, holding up a keyfob with the business’s logo on it.

The building is cool and quiet, sounds oddly muffled as you walk through the halls lined on either side with storage units. Occasionally you pass one with the door open, lock hanging loosely on the outside. You shiver. Places like this always make you feel odd, knowing how much history is here, each unit a snapshot of someone’s life. You cheer yourself with the thought that you’re about to see a snapshot of Marc’s.

When you arrive at unit #43, you bounce a little on your toes as Marc unlocks it and opens the door, a gentleman allowing you entrance first. But whatever you were expecting inside, you cannot help but be disappointed.

The unit is mostly empty, perhaps ten-by-ten. It is very utilitarian, with walls of alloyed metal shiny enough to see yourself in, even if your figure was a fraction distorted. A lightbulb hangs in the corner casting an unflattering fluorescent glow over the room. There are a series of storage totes, opaque to conceal their contents. A cot is in the corner, with a poor excuse for a pillow and a blanket folded with military precision.

“Do you sleep here sometimes?” you ask, baffled at the thought.

“I used to,” says Marc, going to the corner and setting his backpack down. He kneels, the zipper loud in the quiet of the unit. “It was a safe place, a place of my own, before Steven and I—reconciled.”

That makes you inexplicably sad, imagining Marc spending any length of time here, stretched out on a cot too short for him and listening to the hum of lights all night.

“That’s terrible,” you murmur.

Marc makes a sound in the back of his throat, derisive, clearly not feeling so maudlin about it. He says something, but you are too entranced by testing the cot, sitting heavily on its coarse fabric. It barely gives under your weight, unyielding and uncomfortable. At last you become aware of his gaze on you. You glance over to see him kneeling at his duffel bag, eyes glittering with some foreign emotion as he watches you.

“Sorry, what’d you say?” you ask.

“I said, Take your clothes off.”

You blink, unsure if you heard him properly. “What?”

“Do it slow,” he adds, his chin tipping down and the look in his eyes simmering into something condensed, something so heated that you can feel it from across the room the way you feel the heat of flames when standing too close to a fire. Shifting, he sits with his back against the wall, one leg outstretched. “I want a show.”

“I don’t—oh my god,” you whisper. “Jake? Has it been you this whole time?”

He runs a hand through his curls, pressing them back. The grin that settles on his mouth is so unlike Marc. At the beginning of your relationship, you had been so insecure that you would mix the boys up and potentially offend them, but you had quickly learned that such a thing was very unlikely. Each of their personalities was so unique, so distinct from the other: the way they stood (or slouched) the way they walked, the way they smiled and laughed—each of them had a million little tells, characteristics that set them apart.

“Don’t feel bad,” he says. His voice is a little flatter than Marc’s—less likely to fluctuate with emotion. It is softly accented; you know that he mostly prefers to speak Spanish. “I am very good at what I do.”

“You even took the bus—oh, Jake you hate the bus—”

He hums. “We’re walking home.”

“I just—why? I would have come with you anywhere.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“How can you say that?”

Jake looks up at you, brow cocked. From within the duffle bag, he removes his leather gloves and begins tugging them on. Those fucking gloves. Something about them makes your heart pound. The buttery softness of them, the scent of well-maintained authentic leather, the methodical,calculated way that he puts them on and takes them off. Or maybe it’s just the connotation that comes with them: that Jake is about to get his hands very, very dirty.

“Because you’re a good girl,” he croons. “If you had known Marc was taking you to my car, you wouldn’t have gone with him—just the same way you wouldn’t have come with me if you knew I was bringing you here for my revenge.”

“So this is Marc’s storage unit?” you breathe.

Jake nods slowly. He says: “You know what else I know?”

“What?”

“You’re such a good girl,” he says, voice soft, needing nearly no volume for the sound to carry to you just feet away, “You’re going to take your punishment without complaining. Because you know you deserve it, don’t you?”

“Jake,” you sigh shakily.

“Undress,” he says softly.

You stand up. Your knees are knocking together, you’re so full of adrenalin, hands shaking as you slip clothing item after item off. You fold them the way you know Jake likes you to, sitting them neatly on top of the stack of storage totes. As you turn, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the walls and it makes your face burn. Fuck, you hope that the helpful guy behind the desk out front doesn’t come to see what’s taking you both so long.

When your eyes find Jake again, you suck in a gasp. All the things you might have suspected he would have—the tripod wasn’t one. Sleek, it is simple but effective. He whistles a little beneath his breath as he fits Marc’s phone into it. When he realizes that you have stopped undressing, his whistling stops, lips puckered softly, dark eyes finding your own. Whatever expression you wear must delight him.

“Problem?”

“Come on, J,” you whisper, shifting on your socked feet. “Marc is going to be pissed enough, isn’t he? What do you plan to make him do, watch it in 3D?”

Jake points to the tripod, a look of near-comical innocence on his face. Some might not guess that Jake has the silliest humor of the three of them, sometimes bordering on cheesy or even slapstick. Demasiadas telenovelas, as he might say. “What, this? You think—? Oh, darling girl. This isn’t for Marc.

“The walls? Those are for Marc. Let him see the way I fuck you in every angle, I don’t care. But this? This is for me. I intend to remember this for a very long time,” he says, his words ending distractedly as he plays with Marc’s phone, getting the settings just right. He eyes your socks pointedly.

“It’s cold in here,” you gripe.

Jake snorts softly, but he doesn’t object. He stands and goes to you, gripping your bare shoulder gently and moving you a fraction this way—a hair that way. Into the best view of the camera, you realize. Being treated like some doll, stop-motion, only made to be bent and twisted into whatever shape pleases him has a surprising effect on you. Even as your thighs clench together tightly, you find yourself…bashful. Crossing your arms over your breasts, you shrink in on yourself.

“Qué es eso?” Jake wonders. He abandons the camera and comes to you. His presence is more comforting than intimidating the way some might imagine it to be. You lean your head against his chest and let his hands encircle your wrists, drawing them away from your chest. “Who is this shy woman? I remember the way you let Marc strip you naked with nothing but my tinted windows to protect your modesty.”

“You know how he gets,” you whine. “He uses that voice, that tone, and then I’m naked.”

“This voice?” he asks, mimicking Marc’s Chicagoan accent flawlessly. He slips into it the way you might slip into a comfortable shirt, familiar and well-worn. He leans back away from you a little to grip your chin firmly, to lift it up for his inspection. “This tone?”

It is. It really is. And as much as it makes your thighs clench, it drives you even wilder how easy it is for him. Jake is so fucking good at it, at pretending, at impersonating—his skill makes you swoon. It makes your heart pound. It makes your pussy wet.

Jake must sense this. Maybe he senses the ripple that seems to pass through you, or maybe he feels the goosebumps that rise on your arms. Either way, he laughs, soft and teasing, rumbling against where your bury your face in his chest.

He clicks his tongue at you until you look at him once more.

“I’ll play Marc for you another day,” he says, eyes growing steelier than the walls. “But right now—it’s me fucking you. I’m going to fuck my cock so deeply inside you that there won’t be any room for him. ¿Me entiendes?

“Now, lay on the cot. I’m hungry.”

Jake eats pussy masterfully, but true to character, he is a mess of contradictions. First he spreads your thighs wide, leather-clad thumbs finding your slippery outer folds to part you to his gaze. He lets go and leans in to suck and kiss at every part of you that isn’t your clit: sucking at your folds, tonguing your hole, kissing your thighs. He is clean shaven (like to keep up the charade of Marc), not a hint of painful stubble to chafe your sensitive pussy.

Jake leads with his tongue and lips, knowing how sensitive you are. For many long moments, he eats you without purpose, like he is giving you head just for the sake of it, no goalpost ahead to punt your orgasm through.

But then he becomes frantic, pressing his tongue as deeply into you as he can, sucking on your clit, dragging the flat of his teeth against your folds. He is lackadaisical and then frenzied, patient and then desperate.

The whole time, you have both hands over your mouth, nothing but the aborted gasps in your throat, the frantic breaths through your nose, and the wet, lurid sounds of Jake eating your pussy to fill up the quiet room.

When you get close, your heels dig into his back. He finally either gets bored with you or decides that he’s warmed you up enough. Your loud groan of protest has his eyes sharpening in a warning that makes you flush. He’s right, though. You have to be quiet.

Jake guides you into the next position he wants, and it’s almost unbearable: on your hands and knees, face towards the camera of Marc’s phone. Jake leaves you like that, on your hands and knees while he undresses slow and methodical, only the slightly warped imagine of him on the metal walls your visual..

Sometimes he says something, low and light and Spanish, before chuckling at whatever Marc’s response is.

“Is he mad?” You wonder, unsure what you want the answer to be.

“No,” Jake croons, kneeling behind you. He draws you up til you kneel, back pressed flush against his bare chest, cock hard between your thighs. In your ear, he says: “He is livid.”

“Jake,” you whine.

He clicks his tongue again. He holds up his hand in front of you, leather gloves still in place.

“Open your mouth.”

You open. Carefully, he has you tug the glove off with your teeth. He holds it while you do the same with the other. Then he makes you open your mouth so he can tuck the palms of his gloves between your teeth for you to hold.

“Drop those, and you’ll be punished,” Jake says, bare hands smoothing along your back, down your hips, finding your ass. He spanks you, once, hard. A warning that you feel all the way to your toes. “Leave a single mark from your teeth on my leather, and you’ll also be punished.”

You whine in dismay at this twist, trying to find the perfect balance between keeping the gloves in your mouth but not biting with enough force to leave a mark. Distracted by this, you miss whatever Jake says to his reflection, though his bright laugh at whatever its response is makes you shiver.

Gently, he urges you back onto your hands and knees. His cock nudges against the wetness between your legs. You make a desperate little sound, shifting, arching your back to offer his cock more contact with your pussy. The fire Jake had lit inside you with his mouth flares to life again, unsatisfied and aching.

“Can you take it?” Jake wonders, slipping and sliding along the seam of you, soaking his cock in your own arousal. “Or do you need my fingers to open you up?”

You try to answer him with the gloves, but the words are nothing but muted sounds. His cockhead, thick enough alone to be a pleasing stretch, presses at your entrance.

“What was that?” Jake wonders, cupping a hand to his ear.

No use in trying to tell him twice. Instead you press back, welcoming him into your body. Your eyes shut, and you nearly drop the gloves when your mouth craves to fall open and release a groan. It is by the skin of your teeth (pun intended) that you manage to keep the gloves in your mouth. You seethe with jealousy at the quiet but robust moan that Jake gives out, his fingers dimpling the skin of your hips with force as he grips you and pulls you back further and further on his cock.

“Impaciente,” he reprimands breathily. “Who is fucking who? Are you fucking me? Go ahead then. Fuck me.”

Jake lets go of your hips, crossing his arms contemplatively across his chest. You whine, leaning forward and then sinking back onto his cock. The throaty hum that Jake gives makes you shiver, pleased to be pleasing him. You begin an unsure rhythm, rocking on and off his cock.

For a while, it is enough for Jake. But then he takes your hips in his broad hands again.

“Do you need help? Here.” He gives a series of near-brutal thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping your cunt loud in the enclosed room. You choke on a groan, head falling forward and eyes screwing shut with pleasure—and then a burst of pain across your scalp has your eyes opening as Jake tugs your head up. Back to face the camera. “Head up. I want to see your pretty face. I want to watch you wreck yourself on my cock.”

He makes you go on like that for an endless amount of time. Eventually you find a rhythm, making sure not to turn your face away from the camera as you rock back against his thighs, taking his cock to the root again and again.

“Why do you look so sour?” You make a confused sound. Jake’s hand smooths across your flank. His other hand points. “Not you. Him. You’re putting on an amazing show for him, and he isn’t even appreciating it.”

All of the sudden, there is a distant bang. You freeze, Jake’s cock halfway buried inside you. Distantly–so distantly, you can hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Behind you, Jake’s body begins to shake with quiet laughs even as your own seems to seize with terror at the thought of being caught. The lock for the unit only hangs loosely, offering the two of you no privacy should someone decide to investigate the noise and open the door.

Jake draws you up, lowering himself onto his haunches as he tugs you back against his chest. In your ear, he murmurs: “Perhaps Marc is the only person we should give a show to. Oh—oh no? You’re shaking your head, but your cunt can’t lie to me. Not when I know her so well. If you don’t want anyone to see what a beautiful little slut you are, then you had best keep quiet.”

Keep quiet—simple, except that he reaches down between your legs, fingers tracing along your stretched entrance, and then dragging up over your sensitive, otherwise-ignored clit. Your body jerks, desperate to get away from the sudden stimulus and desperate to get closer all at once. You whine, the sound echoing off the walls and back to you. It takes all of your fortitude to press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and try to stifle any further noises.

Jake takes your clit between his fingers and rubs softly, purring into the nape of your neck at the way your pussy spasms around his cock. In the distance, the footsteps draw closer, the quiet murmur of voices heard. Can they hear you as well as you can hear them? Fuck, you imagine they can. Your orgasm, so far denied of you, swells low and sweet in your belly, and you dread it just as much as you ache for it—

All at once, a warmth fills you, Jake’s cock twitching where it is buried deep inside you. He groans so quietly against your skin, trailing off into a little breathless laugh. The feel of his spend filling you has your cunt clenching, approaching that edge. But before you can let yourself trip over the ledge and down into pleasure’s abyss, Jake’s fingers freeze.

Did you hear that? a voice asks. Your heart pounds, entire body flashing hot and then cold with panic. Jake’s hand reaches up and wraps around you throat, fingers flexing gently in warning. As if you need one!

Rats, probably. City’s got ones bigger than your cock—not that that’s saying much.

You make too many jokes about my cock for a bloke who's straight.

The voices begin to fade away. Jake’s fingers relax, stroking the line of your throat softly.

“Good girl,” he murmurs in your ear. “Very good girl, keeping quiet, fucking me so good. Did you cum?”

As if he doesn’t already know. You shake your head, slow and emphatic, gloves flapping softly against your cheeks.

“Do you want to cum?”

A nod.

“Roll over. On your back. Shh, shh—I know it’s cold.”

You lay there shivering, looking up at him, the taste of leather on your tongue. You’re nearly shaking with need, thighs spread so he can kneel between them. He’s cum, but his cock hardly looks softened, flush and dark between his legs. Jake grips his cock and strokes himself a few times, the muscles in his belly tensing. He is so fucking hot, you feel like if you laid here long enough looking up at him, you would cum.

With his other hand, Jake reaches for Marc’s phone. He works it softly off of the tripod and turns the screen to face you, lets you look at yourself in the front facing camera. Your hands cover your eyes at the brief glimpse you catch of yourself looking so fucked-out, thighs splattered with pearly seed, cunt swollen, nipples hard, those fucking gloves held between your teeth.

Jake laughs softly as he takes the camera and turns it the proper direction so that he can film you. “Hands down, what did I say? I said I want to see your pretty face.”

Two of his fingers, thick and strong, slip inside you. Your hands fall away from your eyes, mouth going slack enough that the gloves slip dangerously and you have to tighten your lips to keep from dropping them altogether. Jake’s grin behind the phone is downright sinful as he takes obvious, obscene pleasure in your struggle. His fingers squelch as he begins a moderate pace of fucking you with them.

“All you have to do is ask me, and I’ll make you cum.” He pauses to slip his fingers from you and drag the mess of yourself up over your sensitive clit, delighting in your whine and writhe. “So go ahead and ask real pretty. I’m all ears.”

You ask, words severely muffled around the gloves.

“I can’t understand,” he says, pointing the phone towards your pussy in a move that has tears filling your eyes with how tightly your cunt grips at his fingers. You didn’t know you liked being filmed so much—wouldn’t have imagined such a thing in a thousand years. “Keep asking. I like to hear you struggle. Say, ‘Please make me cum, Jake’.”

You’re desperate enough to keep trying, feeling the muscles in your belly tighten, though you desperately wish he would stroke your clit. You would cum nearly straight away, you are so close to the precipice. You repeat his words.

“Who? Did you say—Marc?”

Your eyes widen in panic, head shaking furiously. You repeat his name again and again, though he puckers his lips to look doubtful. He slips his fingers out of you again and you nearly wail, desperate for the release you have worked so hard to earn. But instead of taking his hands away, Jake takes your slippery clit between his fingers again, working the little pleasurable knot with dextrous, merciless skill.

You cum before you know you are cumming, back arching against the chilly floor, barely aware of Jake tugging the gloves from between your teeth to hear the way your voice grits out his name. He rubs and softly pinches your most sensitive flesh until you are whining and shaking and whispering for him to stop, it is too much, you are too sensitive.

He adjusts the camera to take in your entire expression: dilated, heavy-lidded eyes, mouth swollen and parted, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Good girl,” he says again, soundly absurdly pleased. He sets the phone down, using the free hand to smooth softly across your trembling belly as you are riddled with spasms and shivers in the aftermath of your release.

Then, a sound you dread, one you dread more than even footsteps or voices:

Jake clicks his tongue in displeasure.

Eyes wet and wide, voice raspy from your whines and cries, you ask, “What is it?”

His eyes flash up to you, smile spreading slow and dangerous across his face. It makes you shiver, makes your pussy clench. He holds up his glove, pointing. “What is that? Hm? There, denting the leather.”

A toothmark.

“Looks like you are due for that punishment after all.”

Gripping both gloves loosely in one hand, Jake brings them down to spank your clit.

I'm currently raising money to afford the emergency care provided to my perpetual-pup who passed away on 8/25. Please consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed this; every penny goes to him. Reblogs are invaluable. And come leave a request in my inbox, if you'd like.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Text

Yandere Neighbor Wars: Less Than Safe

Tomura Shigaraki 🎮✋🏻 vs Dabi 🪡🔥

🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You knew your neighborhood wasn’t the safest 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥If the hole-y walls and cheap rent weren’t enough to prove that 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥The raucous sounds of criminal activities would do the trick 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥And while this wasn’t the neighborhood to confront your neighbors for anything 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You seemed to have an odd tendency for this to happen 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Hey gorgeous you come here often?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“I live here…obviously.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Doubt it. There’s no way a goody-two-shoes actually lives here.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Oh? Then it wasn’t this goody-two-shoes' wall you shot 4 stray bullets into?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You’re lackadaisical neighbor covered in tattoos, piercings, and stitches: Dabi 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Who doesn’t care all that much for your safety until he puts two and two together 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Suddenly he’s smoking a blunt on your shared block 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Or outside your workplace 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“What’sa matter babe, I’m just here ta protect ya don’t mind me.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Your other neighbor isn’t so forward 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Uhm I think they gave me, your package.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Ugh of course those morons would do that! I’m going to kill that—Whoa!” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“...Uh sir…hello?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“....Yeah…” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥After your meeting you find yourself plugging in more of these mysterious holes 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥And having to deliver more packages that are delivered to you 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Even the ones that possibly contain human remains+ 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Yeah this is definitely going to keep happening so just let yourself in, it's easier to acclimatize you that way.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Though it seems your neighbors already butt their heads quite a lot it gets even worse when they both seem keen on changing your situation:

“Where is this breeze even—Dabi!? What the heck, man!? What’d I say about breaking in through the window?” You dropped your coat and work uniform to dash across the little space to close the window, passing by the intruder who was much more interested in penning a new name onto his ankle. You didn’t wait for a response, continuing to talk as you did your usual perimeter check.

“You’re practically making my place open season for all the weirdos with an open window like that!”

Dabi scoffed, “Babe, your open season because you’re you. I’m in fact holding down the fort.”

You shook your head putting your dropped things back in place.

“Riiight. And it doesn’t have anything to do with eating my food?”

The man put a scarred hand to his chest feigning pain as his familiar smirk spread across his face.

“Aww babe, you think so low of me?”

“I think low is an understatement. They think you’re dirt.”

The blunt and gravelly voice of Tomura Shigaraki rang throughout the bedroom growing louder as he shuffled into the living room, a portable game in hand. You did a double take as you were sure you walked in there but you shrugged letting him make himself at home. After all, this was normal for you to be the host to your no doubt criminal neighbors.

“That’s awfully bold of you, packrat. (Y/n) loves me don’t you babe?”

“Don’t call them that and don’t let everyone know how delusional you really are. (Y/n) attracts enough creeps already.”

“Well King Incel,” “I’m not a–” “Yes you are, and I’m the least of their problems. In fact, I’ll be their precious hero, ain’t that right baby?”

You chuckled while shaking your head before beginning to close your bedroom door. Sticking your head out when they got up to follow you.

“Ah ah I’m taking a shower and no this isn’t a group activity! If you come in I’ll stab you, got it?”

“...”

“Got. It?”

“Fine, fine.” “Maybe next time sugar.”

With the slam of the door and a click of your lock, a tense silence fell over the room. The only sound was the cries and screams and the sound of bullets from Tomura’s game system. When the sounds abruptly stopped Tomura was the one who spoke.

“Their hero, huh? You’ve got plans or something?”

Dabi sucked his teeth, dubiously grinning at Tomura’s glaring pair of eyes.

“I thought you were a gamer no? Aren’t you supposed to wait for my big reveal?”

Tomura growled, clutching the game in his hands.

“Forget that. You’re going to do something stupid and everyone knows you don’t leave the dumb to their devices. So what’s your plan.”

“...”

At Dabi’s silence, Tomura felt a surge of anger slamming his game into a nearby coffee table. He gritted his teeth and banged his fist.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!? I’ll figure it out eventually so you might as well tell me!”

Dabi groaned, he would have laughed had it been anyone else but he wasn’t so stupid to poke the bear cub.

“(Y/n) and I are going to get out of here. This crap apartment isn’t good enough for them and they're way too lax. I’m just taking care of them so don’t get your panties in a twist.”

For some reason that didn’t seem to soothe Tomura who stood to his feet with closed fists. Angrily shaking them as he visibly scowled at Dabi.

“Y-you stole my idea!”

“Your idea? Please in the real world, kid, it’s called being smart.”

“No it’s called being a scheming b-”

Your bedroom door swings open as you make your way into the kitchen. All it takes is a curious tilt of your head in Tomura’s direction that has him sitting back down and begrudgingly returning to his game. You simply shrugged passing by a smirking Dabi as you made your way to the kitchen.

“So boys what’s for dinner?”

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hotvinimon · 9 months

Text

You are his, right ?

Yandere gym bro x reader

Plot : Inviting casper for a sleepover

Author’s note : The images are not mine. I don not support this kind of behaviour and highly condemn these activities. This kind of behaviour is not tolerated in actual life. Reader is portrayed as pick me girl who is asking for it.

Warnings : MDNI. The images are not mine. Credits to the owner

Join my taglist - Here

Hangouts with Casper were now a part of your daily routines. From your friends to coworkers to neighborhood gossip aunties and even your baker, everyone came to know about Casper. Anywhere you went, Casper appeared suddenly and even matching your outfit. What a coincident right ?

This is what soulmate is, isn’t it ? You are his soulmate right ?

“Hey Caz, I think we should head back it’s getting dark.” you suggested. “ I guess you are right “ Casper smiles silently cursing all the powers who are working to keep you from him.

“Here you go sweetie” Casper drops you at your home in his car. “Cas, I was wondering if you could stay for a while, I have something to show you.” you asked. Casper frowns and acts like having a deep thought. “hmmm… recent studies say that a man should never say no to his cute girl, so of course I would love to stay for ever a while.“ you laughed at his silly joke.

You didn’t corrected him. It means you are his. You are his, right ?? All his.

“YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO CLOSE YOUR EYES DAMMIT” you shrieked. “My eyes are closed” Casper laughs. You pout and whine. “Fine Fine here. “ Casper closes his eyes as you settle something in his hands. He opens his eyes and found an I-Pad??? “Are you giving me this I-Pad back ?? Do you not like it sweetie ?? Should I give you something else for our 100 days anniversary ???

Yes. you and Casper celebrated your 100 days of friendship relationship. On which he took you out for dinner date and surprised shocks you by giving you everything that you had set an eye on for past 100 days.

“ Cas.. I can’t take this. This is too much “ you relented. “ This isn’t too much. further, I even lost the receipts, I can’t even return them. Wouldn’t it go waste now ?? Do you not like the gifts ?? Do you want me to buy something else for you ?? do you not like me anymore ?? Are you going to leave me ??? “ And you could do nothing but accept them when you saw fat tears rolling down the man baby’s flushed cheeks, not noticing the smirk he had while you hugged and soothed him. It took you all night to make him believe that you are not going anywhere.

Like, you could even do that until he is alive.

“No Caz~. I’m not giving you the I-pad back. I really liked it. “ you blurted out quickly to not hurt the boy’s feelings again.

“I want you to open the I-Pad and see what I have made.” you smiled. Casper let out the breath that he had held for so long. He opens the screen and almost faints when he sees a cute doodle of him and you clicking a selfie followed by other doodles that you had made from your recent pictures. “ I know this is stupid and-” “this is not stupid. This is so good. Can you send me those ???” Casper cuts you of and begs you for the pictures, which you send him immediately.

After an hour

“I think I should leave, it’s quite dark” the male suggested. You looked out the window to witness the light. “ Are you dumb Cas??? It’s so dark and foggy out, you should stay here for ever tonight. “ It’s alright. I don’t want to cause any problems" Casper suggests silently begging universe to make him stay. “ Well, if you don’t know, I would like to tell you that recent studies say that a man should never say no to his cute girl.” you quoted in a heavy voice (imitating Cas), to which you both laughed and Casper got to stay.

“ How about we order a takeout and pick a movie ??” Casper recommended. “ I would really appreciate that, but I think we should change to something more comfy. How about you take a bath first. I have some oversized clothes that might fit you” you suggested. “I like the sound of that” Casper replies.

You hand Casper a pair of your oversized sweats and a shirt ( with acted more like a compression shirt ). Casper enters your bathroom and the smell of your cologne fills his senses and faints him one more time. His breath becomes heavy, mind started melting and legs started shaking. Suddenly his eyes fell to the laundry basket which was tucked in corner only for him to see. He hopes you don’t mind some of your things panties being stolen.

After all you are his, right ?

“How about iron man ???”

“Horror”

“Spider-Man ???”

“Horror”

“Twilight ??”

“Horror.. Casss…… Please… I can handle it” you pout and cross your hand tightly on your chest. Which may or may not have lifted your assets, showing of something pointy through your silky nightwear. And Casper couldn’t argue further. Who was he to say no to your tight hugs during the movie ?? Who was he to say no to you when you asked to sleep with him because you were afraid ?? Who was he to say no when you cuddled him and rested your head in the crook of his neck in the sleep ?? Who was he to say no when you stuffed his face in your chest and traced his back in sleep ?? Who was he to say no when your thigh accidently brushed his bulge in sleep ??

You were really testing him. Weren’t you ??

Tag List - @daytej, @keepghostly

Requests are open.

Join my taglist - Here or let me know in the comments ;)

#yandere boy #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere community #yandere oc #male yandere #tw yandere #yandere gym bro #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere stories #yandere x darling

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zarvasace · 2 years

Note

For the mini-fics: "dream" (Four Swords, any AU, maybe some Red/Blue if you feel like it? Only if you feel like it though, I do remember you mentioning it wasn't one of your ships, and I'm happy to read any interaction between the two <3)

It... it wasn't one of my ships. And then your writing, and then this, and uh. Anyway, I guess this is some kind of tragic fairytale AU. (it isn't long!)

---

"I don't like this," Blue muttered, shadowing Red as they stalked through the castle halls. His heels clicked on the polished floors, and glints of armor and a crown kept catching Red's eye in the mirrors.

"I, Red, the prince and heir of Hyrule, do solemnly invoke the sacred Wall of Thorns."

Red tried to ignore the warm presence at his shoulder. This was not the time or place for dreams, especially silly dreams like taking Blue's hand, or leaning against Blue's chest, or dragging him into one of the closets they passed and—

Army, approaching. Danger, imminent. Blue, bodyguard, not boyfriend. Not now, not ever. They'd run out of time. It hurt.

"This castle and all therin will be protected from harm by the Thorns of Nayru, caught in time just as their prince."

"Nobody likes it, Blue," Red answered. He hoped his voice didn't shake, or that Blue would take it to be fear of the coming storm rather than anything else. They slowed in front of the large door just ahead, decorated with wrought iron in the shape of thorny rosevines.

"I don't want to let you go through with this."

"But you will, because there's no other way. You agreed about that." Red unlocked the door, and Blue helped him to push it open. It felt heavy, in more than one way. His steps slowed as he approached the raised dais in the center of the dim, circular room.

"The land will be blessed and forgotten by all but its inhabitants until I may take possession of the throne once again."

It wasn't strictly tall enough for him to need help, but Red held his hand out anyway. "Help me up?"

Blue's hand was warm under the soft leather of the glove. After Red stepped up, Blue followed, and Red had to actively avoid his eyes, or he'd get lost. They didn't have the time to waste.

Red sat on the richly appointed bed and looked at his hand, still clutched in Blue's. "You don't have to be here right now."

"You're not going to keep me away."

"I know." He'd been so sure that he'd have time with Blue someday. But Blue couldn't be… he couldn't lift the spell of he was trapped inside it with the rest of the castle. With the rest of the kingdom.

"The spell will lift only when one who can be considered a soulmate bestows upon me true love's first kiss."

Red picked up the small book on the night table and lit the candle, all with one hand.

"This spell is irrevocable, impenetrable, and absolutely binding."

He'd been so sure. He started reading the spell's activation, even as hoofbeats sounded in the windows.

---

If I wrote out this whole thing, there would be a loophole or something where Blue doesn't actually fall asleep but ends up being captured by the enemy and has to fight his way out—or maybe Green and Vio show up and one of them could be considered a platonic soulmate—or magic blips and just Blue wakes up, minutes at a time every few years, watching the world out the windows change, battling with his feelings and taking a long time to get over himself. There are a lot of options!

#my writing #3sent #four swords #whats the ship tag #uhhhh #ive never tagged this ship before #red x blue #lets go with that #fsa red #fsa blue #their ship name would be bled or rue #which are cool but neither are quite the right vibe #blred #relue #its fine

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prettygreenpills · 1 year

Text

Powerful - Y/n Weems x Enid Sinclair

chapter 4

characters: Y/n Weems x Enid Sinclair

rundown: you are going with Wednesday and Enid to the Gates mansion to prove Wednesday’s theory, but everything goes wrong

warnings: fainting

“What deal was she talking about?” You asked Enid as soon as you arrived to your room and she sat onto her bed.

“Y/n, I can’t tell you-“ Enid shook her head along with the half of the answer but you wanted to know.

“Enid she is my mother and we are taking about me here.”

“Yes but- if you want to know, you should ask the principal,” Enid said and you started to get angry.

“I will buy you a new nail polish if you tell me,” you promise knowing that she would want exactly one shade of pink.

“Really??”

“Now speak.”

“Ok, I wasn't really supposed to tell you... Are you sure you wanna know?" Enid asked you and she was really playing on your nerves. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes what made Enid speak. You smiled as soon as she took a breath to talk and you knew that you had the werewolf girl in your pocket.

"Me and your mother... Well principal… she asked me to keep an eye on you.” Enid told you honestly and you closed your eyes already thinking about why would your mother do that.

“In what way?”

You saw how Enid bit on her inner cheek and you gave her some time. But not that much she could lie to you. Trying to think about why would your mother do that you didn't really believe your own thoughts. Did she want to control you or something? Your mother was doing things like this when she wanted something to herself.

“She wants to know about everything what happens with you,” Enid confessed and you closed your eyes.

“Two bottles of nail polish and no word to my mother. Deal?”

“I mean- okay deal!” Enid said in excitement and you let out a exhale of relief. Only after that you realized a clicking noise which was in the room since both of you were quiet. Turning around, your eyes landed on the black side of the room and there she was, Wednesday Addams, writing something.

Hoping in that she didn’t really focus on what we’re you two talking about, you walked over to your bed and sat onto it. Pulling your knees to your chest once as you were leaning on the headboard of the bed, you just closed your eyes.

You shapeshifted into a dead guy before.

Watching the raindrops hit the window, you didn’t even realize how late it was. You had your eyes opened once again and you were just thinking. Could you believe Enid and tell her everything like you used before?

Decided to get your mind off things like these were, you took your notes and placed them onto the bed. It didn’t look like you were about to get some rest or sleep, so you kept reading your notes, trying to memorize as much as you could.

The hours were passing by and you were getting to the end of your notes slowly. There was no change in the activities the girls were doing.

“Enid?” Wednesday asked from her blonde roommate and you realized that she was holding something in her hands. She had been writing before and she had some things on her table which you weren’t really sure about.

“What is it?”

“I think I found out,” Wednesday said only and Enid’s eyes wide opened. You were watching what was happening around you and you didn’t really understand what was going on. When Enid walked over to the black haired girl, it didn’t leave you just like that. You put down everything you have been holding and walked over to the table where the girls were too. And what you saw made the shivers run down your spine.

“It’s a diary.”

“How do you know?” Wednesday asked you and you looked at her. Taking a deeper breath you knew that you couldn’t tell them your mother knew about everything what was happening in her school, so you had to come up with some lie.

“Well, I have read these books. And it’s from the Gates family,” you said and Enid gasped.

“The Gates family? You mean- those Gates?”

“Yes, those Gates. And it’s known that they had a daughter. When all of them died, there was only one survivor. And it was-“

“Laurel Gates,” Wednesday finished and you nodded your head. When you turned back to see Enid, she seemed more confused than ever. “But where is she now if she was the only survivor?” Wednesday asked more from herself than from you or Enid and she walked over to her desk. She sat down onto a chair and you knew that she started thinking about the whole case. Closing your eyes you knew that you had to keep your mouth shut about this in front of your mother and you just kept quiet.

“Wednesday I think we should-“

“We should go to the Gates mansion,” Wednesday breathed out and you cleared your throat. You knew this wasn’t the best idea for you. You could easily shapeshift into someone without having control over it and you really didn’t want Wednesday to know. You looked at Enid who was as confused as you were and then Enid went on.

“Wednesday, it will be on our records and with that-“

“You’re a werewolf Enid,” Wednesday reminded her of that fact and Enid seemed to think about it. When she let out an exhale, you knew that Wednesday had Enid in her pocket.

“Okay. Y/n?”

You froze. Enid wanted you to go with them. And if your mother found out, she would make a scene. Enid stepped closer to you and you kept looking her into her eyes. She blinked few times and an excuse why you shouldn’t be going with them popped out in your head.

“What if I shapeshift? I don’t have any medication with myself and I will no break into my mother’s offi-“

“You don’t have to,” Wednesday said and she pulled out a little bottle of the meds your mother gave you earlier. Your eyes wide opened and you looked at the black haired girl.

“How did you get them?”

“I broke into your mother’s office,” Wednesday said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Are you insane? She will think that I was the one who stole them. Wednesday couldn’t you just ask me or tell me to do that?” You started panicking and when you saw that Wednesday wasn’t reacting at all, you gave up on being angry at that girl.

Later at that night, all three of you were sitting in a car which Tyler was driving. You knew his name because Wednesday told you so. Sitting on the backseats with Enid, you realized that she was nervous about the whole thing which was about to happen and she seemed to be scared. You breathed out softly and thought if it was going to be a good idea what you were about to do. You reached out your hand for Enid to take it. When she realized a movement with a corner of her eye, she turned her head to see you. As soon as she realized that you reached your hand out she looked down at your hand and then at you, but she took it.

“Are you scared?" Enid asked you quietly and you immediately shook your head no. The speed of your answer made Enid realize the truth. She squeezed your hand for few seconds and you looked down at your hands. A smile appeared on your face and as much as you tried to hide it that speed Enid realized. But you knew that she was as scared as you were. Sitting in silence in the car both of you gulped when the car shopped.

“Okay guys, we have arrived." realizing that Tyler spoke up, you nodded your head and looked at Enid. She was watching the Gates mansion with her eyes widened and you watched her chest raise and fall faster than usual. Brushing your them over her knuckles you tried to calm the girl down. When Wednesday opened the doors of the car, you did the same on your side and got out of the engine. Waiting for Enid you looked around.

“So… what are we going to do here?” You asked from Wednesday and she didn’t even look at you to give you an answer.

“We are going to find an evidence of that someone of the Gates family is still alive. Laurel to be exact,” Wednesday explained. When the words she just used got to your brain and you realized what did she want to do, all you could think about was your medicine. Hoping in that Wednesday wasn’t the one who had them, you looked over at Enid and she nodded her head, reaching under her coat. She had your medicine. You seemed to be safe.

Slowly and taking small and quiet steps, you arrived to the gate which was closed. From that spot you could see the mansion but you didn’t dare to touch the gate. Wednesday showed up next to you and she put her hand into the steel without any hesitation. You gulped loudly and looked at Enid. She was clenching her hands in fists and she was taking deep breaths. You looked away from the girl and followed Wednesday onto the lands of the Gates lands.

Taking really careful steps, you were walking across the lands in silence. There was nothing what could be making a noise so you heard Enid’s deep breathing. As further were you getting, that harder was to breath. Enid had to realize that because she brushed her thumb over your knuckles. You didn’t look at her, you wanted to keep your eyes on the lands and on the house because you felt like something dangerous was going to happen.

“Okay. I am going with Tyler. Y/n with Enid. If you find anything, just call for us and we will go there,” Wednesday explained and she gave you a flashlight. She gave one to Enid too and then she walked closer to Tyler. You stepped closer to the blonde girl and nodded your head. “Okay. If anyone finds anything, stay where you are and the other couple will come. Me and Tyler are taking the basement, you two can start on the second floor of the house. We will meet on the first one.”

“Okay,” Enid said, her voice shaky. When Wednesday turned around and walked away with Tyler, you reached your hand out to Enid. She jumped a little as you two made contact but when she looked you into your eyes, she smiled shyly. “Let’s go.”

You were walking and holding each others hand. Realizing how warm her hand was, you didn't want to let go of her hand and Enid seemed to think the same. As you approached the house you were waiting for something to happen and you were positively surprised when no surprise was waiting for you on the lands of that family.

Enid was walking besides you and she was being your emotional support without even knowing that. You were happpy you had her by your side.

When all of you arrived to the front doors, you took a deep breath, afraid to touch the door handle. You were just looking down at it and started taking deep breaths. Thinking if that was a good idea to come there, you were too afraid to touch anything what was connected to that family. In the following second the girl dressed in black stepped in front of you and she opened the doors.

Your eyes automatically traveled to the stairs which were leading to the second floor and you waited for the others to walk inside of the house. Enid stepped closer to you and Wednesday and Tyler stayed on the same spot.

"If anything happens, we will call for each other," Wednesday said. Feeling that all of you understood the task the girl gave you, you took Enid´s hand and took a deep breath.

"See you on the first floor," you said and Wednesday nodded her head. With that she turned around and you looked at Enid. She tried not to show it, but you knew that she was scared. You kept holding her hand and took a first step towards the stairs.

You were walking up as the first one and Enid was following you. You had your hand behind your back and you were holding the blonde´s hand. Feeling how cold her hand was, you squeezed it softly and kept walking forward.

“What’s in here?” Enid asked as you passed some doors and you stopped, looking at the blonde. You shrugged and Enid was the one who opened the doors for you two, gulping really loudly and letting out sounds like a puppy does. “I don’t want to go in there- that’s the only room which is decorated in the whole house, it means something!”

“I will go in there, don’t worry,” you calmed Enid down and she nodded her head. You let go of her hand and made sure she had the light. Walking inside of the room, the bedside table took your attention. It was a little box laid on the wood and that made you even more curious. You didn’t turn back to Enid, you didn’t want to scare the life out of her, so all you could do was taking that box and opening it to make sure there was nothing inside of them.

“I found something,” you said only and then you took the little box into your hands. Goosebumps covered your body and you knew that you should’ve put that right back where it belonged, but something stopped you from that action.

Your sight became blurry and there was beeping in your eyes. It seemed like you were about to faint but after what happened in your mother’s office you hoped in that you wouldn’t fall onto the hard ground. There was a medication you could use. As you remembered, you turned to see Enid, just when Wednesday arrived to the doors as well.

“Y/n, you need your pills!”

“It’s too late Enid, she is already transforming,” Wednesday stopped her and you wished that you didn’t have to go through that pain again. But Wednesday made you.

You had a feeling you couldn’t stand on your own feet. Feeling of throwing up was never leaving your body and you fell onto the floor. Taking deep breaths, one after another, you tried to remember what your mother did when you shapeshifted in her office, but all you had on your mind was, who did this little box belong to? Who was living in this room in an abandoned house and who was hiding something?

“Y/n- what?” You head Enid and you tried to open your eyes. When you looked at the blonde, you knew that you were laying on the floor and she had a really confused look. Furrowing her eyebrows, you focused on her eyes. You could see yourself in the reflection of them. Why did you have red hair?

“What’s- why do I have her voice? What is happening?” You started panicking just when Wednesday approached you.

“It’s simple. Your shapeshifting is just like my visions. When I touch something, I have a vision of what happened at that place. So when you touch something what is the owner’s, you shapeshift into the owner.”

“Why did Y/n turn into Miss Thornhill?” Enid asked in panic and you were shocked. Did you shapeshift into one of your teachers at school? How could this be possible? Did she have some connection to the Gate’s family? You had no idea.

“Give that to me,” Wednesday asked and she took the little box. The moment she touched it… nothing really happened. You weren’t focusing on her, you were hyperventilating and you still couldn’t believe that this room belonged to Marilyn Thornhill before.

“Here, Y/n, put it back where it was. And now we will go to the basement and search for something what we can use in this case.” Wednesday handed you the box with Ballerina just when it opened. The last thing you remembered were Wednesday’s pictures falling out of the wooden box and when you touched it again, you appeared in the same room few years back. And then all you could see was black.

#fluff #larissaweems #gxg #writers on tumblr #nevermoreacademy #nevermore #wednesdayaddams #timburton #enidsinclair #enidxreader #ynweems #investigation #jennaortega #emma myers #christina ricci

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stardust-in-my-mind-blog · 1 month

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just a girl in the life

after I explore the many phases of my moon

in the starry nights of dreaming

I awaken in the morning as the sun

we do love the moon and her illumination

but without the warm and dynamic radiance of the sun

everything yearning in the light would stall its growing

I used to have more compassion for perspectives outside of mine

as soon as I began to realize it the construct changed quickly

while it's nice to have others consider you

no one will be there for you quite like yourself

sometimes I'm able to be politely clarify when a line

is crossed somewhere by someone

sometimes I just bare my teeth and snarl at them

with my children I'm able to be mostly patient

but I'll curl my lip at them too if unheeded too long

my energy has changed and I see it reflected in them

kids do nothing but test to see where you are

and what they can get away with

give and take is nature and we all do it

attention is love and consideration is care

and they want all of it all the time

I give as much as I can and find somewhere to recharge

when I eventually get depleted and irritable

but no matter what they do or how angry or tired I get

it's never worth truly hurting them

disappointment is one thing and pain is another

but when I break something I make every effort to heal it with them

I know what it's like to be broken and ignored

likely why it's so difficult to break me now

but hasn't it been fun trying?

my heart feels wide open today so I gaze directly into the sky

let the gold of morning light pour into it and into me

I wonder what we'll do with the day

I broke another barrier within myself yesterday

faced a fear and like a breaking fever ended up drenched in sweat

but I have the new start of a document and a deep

determination for a future I can't yet envision

and not because I'm willingly blinded this time

so that's something not borrowed but something new

my tarot meditations are getting more wild by the day

it's a bit uncomfortable how they resonate but I try

to keep everything open to interpretation

stumble across deeper meanings as something clicks

or grows from a seed planted by a random connection

my sense of logic has always been more colorful than most

I try not to consider myself a prophet but so many things

are lining up and I'm finding myself uncomfortable

in clothing that doesn't have some kind of hood attached

that's actually how it starts, right?

if I start looking at large fallen tree limbs like something

I want to take home and carve into a staff

I'll know that the metamorphosis reached a new stage

I already have a wand made of crystals and collected feathers

really it's just a matter of time before the gypsy takes over

the fool has always been here and the sword and shield

have been part of me before it should have been

sometimes I wonder how you spend your day

I still don't believe any of your lazy voiced tales

even if sometimes there was truth ringing in them

instead I'll wonder if you soften your coffee from black

if you trip and stumble over cracks in the sidewalk

or if you're someone who actually watches where you're going

you've been so careful to make sure I can't observe anything

it's only incredibly infuriating not to be able to absorb information

especially when my curiosity is so actively engaged

make a list of tasks to complete because there's plenty to do

hum and sing a song or two that reminds me of you

learn a dance and draw a picture and make my youngest laugh

today I don't yet feel like going to the river but it could change

maybe I could go somewhere new and stimulate some neurons

more boxes packed and more items purged

ugh, I have to buy more groceries

why are they so damn consumable?

my hair is all faded and boring so I'll change that too

open the blinds and let the sunlight into my stained glass cave

all the birds fly away from my window like they were peeking inside

the cardinal is quiet this morning so I wonder where he got to

I look in the mirror and I am content and I feel it too

there's a nice evenness to it and a sense of neutrality

a glimmer of delight that just waits to be inspired

today I woke up happy and peaceful and that's not always the case

so I'll enjoy it immensely and make the most of it

I like the way the mourning doves coo

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slowtravelingcat · 8 months

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The Kilcher Homestead in Homer, AK

Sunday, June 27th, 2021

CAL - This week in the Room of Beds, the large, bald one and I enjoyed our regular routines for nearly 5 days in a row. Each morning Michele begrudgingly arose from one of the two beds, pushed open the curtains, and started her day. I spend most of my days on bed #1, where I creepily hover in the background of video calls while staring right into the web camera. Once I get bored, I move to bed #2 where I watch the most fascinating activities through our 3rd story window. I am starting to arrive at the conclusion that a room can never really have too many beds.

When the weekend finally rolled around, I braced myself for the extra attention that I knew I would surely receive, however, to my complete and utter surprise, Michele suddenly up and left. She had a very small bag in tow, so I estimated that she would be gone for one or two nights at the most.

Before I knew it, Sunday evening was upon me and I had really started to miss her. Just as I started to lose hope, I heard the unmistakable click of the door unlocking. I tried to contain myself, but instead, I let out a series of meows so emphatic, that the large, bald one dropped her bags and ran to greet me.

MICHELE - The weekend started with a mad rush to get onto the road to Homer at a reasonable hour on Friday afternoon. I finally left Anchorage by 5pm and enjoyed the entire 4.5 hour drive doused in sunlight. You gotta love the Alaskan sun.

Upon arrival, I carefully followed the instructions to my tiny cabin on the Kilcher Family Homestead. You know are going deep into nature when the directions only reference a series of hills and forks in the road. When I finally get to the end, I am facing a magnificent yurt overlooking Kachemak Bay. The yurt belongs to Stellavera Kilcher, one of the eight children who own and run the 600-acre homestead. Later I’ll learn that she has appeared on a Discovery TV show about her family and is an aunt to singer, and songwriter Jewel.

I wait patiently in front of the yurt, per my instructions. Also, I really have no choice in the matter, it’s not like I can just pop over to Starbucks or something. Eventually, Stellavera calls, apologizing profusely for being late to meet me.

Around 10:30pm I finally get settled into my cabin, with plenty of daylight to spare. The view from this property is stunning and I stare lovingly out the front door until I can barely keep my eyes open.

The next morning I was treated to a tour of the homestead where I learned about the charter of the land which is to provide opportunities for personal and spiritual growth for the community. The family crest is a series of symbols that translates into stewards of the land for the church. Stellavera tells several charming stories about growing up on the homestead and surviving winters in Alaska.

Next, I head into town to enjoy a quaint farmer's market and a stroll on the Homer Spit. I found a little sweater store called the Better Sweater and wanted to buy everything there. After what felt like an hour I finally settled on the perfect sweater and the shop owner asked if I lived somewhere cold. “No, definitely not!” I say and we both laugh as I pay my $99 for my Alaskan sweater souvenir. For a late lunch, I bought some fish tacos from a truck called the Tickled Pear and found a nice piece of driftwood where I watched the boats mosey back into the harbor from the bay.

Later, back at the homestead, I walk down to a private beach and feel like I am the last human on the planet. I try to take a few pictures, but my camera can not fully capture the moment.

For dinner, Stellavera cooks me and 2 other guests a small feast of salmon, sweet potatoes, and wild greens from her front yard.

The next morning I do not want to leave. Eventually, I drag myself back up to Anchorage forging my way through the weekend traffic. When I arrive home, Cal is very happy to see me. He always brings a ray of sunshine to my day.

#cats #digital nomad #slow travel #travel

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bookio · 10 months

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The Way Out (2023) by Johanna Nilsson

Maja has social anxiety disorder and does all her schoolwork from home. She has cut ties with her closest friends and talks with a psychiatrist through Zoom. Maja is convinced she will die if she so much opens a window and spends most of her time roaming the house like a caged hamster. Her parents and big brother think it's a temporary phase of teenage rebellion and let her be.

One night when the parents are away, the big brother invites a bunch of friends to hold a party. Maja keeps herself hidden in her room but is disturbed by a drunk girl banging on her door, shouting "Help let me in! Please hurry!". Maja does so but it's all a joke. The girl's name is Alice and she's very talkative.

After successfully getting the girl out of her room, Maja is shaken up and cries herself to sleep. Days go by as usual, the psychiatrist starts to visibly sigh at Maja's unwillingness to change.

Maja dreams about Alice, and develope a curiosity to her. She looks her up online and learns that Alice have just started to travel. Maja follows her updates on Instagram religiously but is too shy to write comments or even click like. Maybe the envy of Alice ignites something inside her, cause suddenly Maja starts opening windows, and at the end of the book - even takes a step outside the door.

Wish the story could have been slightly longer, but I also like that it stops suddenly, leaving room for interpretation. There were moments where Alice could have been presented more but it's good that she wasn't, because the idea of Maja not actually knowing this person but just watches her from a distance is so insanely relatable imo. 4/5 stars

- - - - -

Kiss Him, Not Me vol 4 (2016) by Junko

I picked it up randomly at the library because i miss reading manga. The story is about an obese fujoshi (a term used for females who enjoy boy x boy romances) whose favorite fictional character dies, which pushes her into a depression that makes her lose all the extra weight and turn her "beautiful". I know, such an awful premise sorry.. Her newfound beauty made some classmates fall in love with her, and the series is basically a harem about who she'll end up with.

My favorite character, and the only one that liked her even when she was "heavy" is Mutsumi Asuma. I feel I often look for him in every chapter. Unlike the other characters, he's happy to hang out with each and every one of them, identifying them as friends instead of competitors. His love for MC seems to grow very naturally compared to the others that are obviously thirsty over her beauty.

Despite all this (I wish MC had flaws in her look so madly so i can see myself in her !!) the comedy and misunderstandings between school activities are fun, and really leaves you with the feeling of having good friends to rely on. 3/5 stars

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symbiote-siblings · 2 years

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Two Goops in a Box (1)

Scarlet Spider silently leaped from rooftop to rooftop, the black of her stealth suit blending in seamlessly with the growing shadows of the night. She stopped by flipping onto a chimney on an old brick building near the suspected OsCorp lab. Her red lenses narrowed to scan the building. She could use the vent she crawled into the first time, Tara should be able to fit in her normal form. Or maybe the basement window would work better, but she couldn’t get a good scan on the layout of the basement floor, and hadn’t been there before so it’d be risky. As she contemplated her spider sense tingled as she felt the vibrations of a large object slam into the roof whose chimney she was perched on. She gritted her teeth beneath her mask, turning her head down to face the cause of the disturbance.

“Shhhh! What is wrong with you?! Stealth mission, remember?!”

-(+)-

Tara stood, dusting off her baggy pants and cracking her neck, looking up at Scarlet Spider,

“We’re trying our best, ok?!” She let out a short huff and crossed her arms over her chest.

Karma had already retreated, letting Tara take the scolding, which made Tara a bit bitter, but it’s something Karma did often to poke fun of her and lighten the mood. She appreciated her trying in the moment.

Ok sure, maybe she should have told Karma to try and be a little quieter, but still! Tara fixed the hood over her head and pulled up a black scarf over her nose, looking up at the vigilante,

“So? You figuring out the way in or am I also wandering around poking my head into vents?”

-(+)-

“You know what just for that we’re taking the vents.”

That wasn’t entirely true, Scarlet had already decided to go with the vents. It was the safer option as she knew where exactly she’d land when she’d hop out as opposed to hopping into the unknown basement window. She pointed towards a vent located a couple of feet up the backside of the building.

“That one. Follow my lead.”

And with that she sprung off the chimney and stuck to the side of the OsCorp lab’s exterior wall, pushing in the vent cover and crawling inside. She flattened her palm on the bottom of the vent and closed her eyes.

Focus

She could feel the faint hum of various electric systems running through the walls, she focused in on where the majority of them clustered, then continued forward, stopping to peer down at an opening showing an elevator. Whelp. Looks like they were going into the basement after all. The rumbling of another occupant shifting around behind her made her pause.

Oh right. She’s here.

Scarlet was so focused she almost forgot that this, unfortunately, wasn't a solo mission.

“We’ll take the elevator shaft. Most of the systems online are active in the basement. There’s definitely something going on down there.”

She muttered before opening the vent and hopping out, pulling the elevator doors apart as silently as she could and dropping down to stick on the side of the shaft.

-(+)-

Tara was quick to follow suit. Karma aided her by crawling up her arms and helping her stick to the side of the shaft. Eventually having to crawl down her legs as there were not many footholds for Tara alone to stand on.

The host craned her neck, tilting her head, she heard voices… she reached down for Scarlet and tapped her shoulder, keeping her mouth shut as she listened.

“You’re all insufficient! When I demand results I expect to receive them!” A voice shouted,

“Doctor- please, you have two already, isn’t that enough-“

“They are MY subjects! YOU lost them! I want them ALL BACK! Now leave me be!” A sigh, “Whatever, I’m leaving for tonight. Tell Osborn to get his shit together and lock the place up, be useful for once in your life-“

Footsteps… metal footsteps… many metal footsteps were heard and faded out of Tara’s earshot.

The other voice muttered something she couldn’t quite catch and after a few moments, footsteps were heard and they faded out of sight, a light switch was clicked and there was silence.

-(+)-

Scarlet listened closely. The metal footsteps were the first to leave the nearest room to them, followed by the lighter pair. She held her hand out in a wait motion, straining her ears as she heard a click of several doors locking. That’s when she brought her hand down and dropped to the next elevator door opening, hanging upside down by a thin web line she grabbed the seams and slowly, as to not make too much noise, pulled them apart. Scarlet threw herself forward, rolling into the dark room, her lenses narrowed as she scanned the lab, faintly feeling the vibration of Tara jumping down beside her.

[Collab w/ @ask-spidersisters ]

#symbiotesona #symbiote sona #karma and tara #spidersona #writing #scarlet spider #collab #symbiote arc #tw swearing

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bananaalert · 2 years

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theorderofthetriad · 2 years

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looks like tumblr has updated for the worst again

#let me keep my activity window open after i click on something in it you jerks!!!!#i was able to do that yesterday!!! why the fuck did you change that!?! for what reason?!?!#and why is the notes part open whenever i click on a post in activity now???#and WHY is the notes part when pre-opened-by-tumblr fucking wrong??? as in showing incorrect information????#tumblr it would have been so easy for you to do literally nothing and not make terrible changes #tumblr

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respectable-username · 3 years

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🔐 Why You (Probably) Don't Need A VPN

A rant by a software engineer sick of VPN ads from her favourite YouTubers

TL;DR:

Here are some legitimate reasons the average internet user might want to use a VPN:

To connect to their company's internal network

To bypass the Great Firewall of China (or other types of website blocks at country or organisation level)

To watch Netflix etc as if you were in another country

Here are absolutely rubbish reasons to use a VPN:

Privacy

And today, I'll tell you why.

Hang on, won't a VPN stop hackers from stealing my passwords?

I mean, it does encrypt the web traffic coming from your device.

You know what else encrypts web traffic coming from your device? Your browser.

Yes, in the year 2021, pretty much all websites on the internet are accessed over HTTPS. The "S" stands for "secure", as in "your request will be securely encrypted". If your browser is using HTTPS, nobody can capture the data you're sending over the internet. More detail in the "I like too much detail" section at the bottom of this post.

It's very easy to check if you are using HTTPS by looking at your URL bar. In most browsers, it will have a lock on it if secure:

(From top left to bottom right: Chrome on iOS, Safari on iOS, Chrome on Windows, Edge on Windows, Firefox on Windows, and Safari on Mac. Screenshots reflect the UI at the time this post was written. Oh gosh this has taken over 4 hours to write.)

But isn't moar encryption better? What if somebody breaks HTTPS?

For starters, nobody's breaking your HTTPS, and there isn't any benefit from double encrypting. This is because of the maths behind encryption/decryption!

Encryption works kinda like a lock and key, except the lock is maths and the key is a special number only known to the person allowed to unlock the information.

The important thing is, without the key, all the locked data looks like complete and utter garbage. Completely unusable. Barely distinguishable from random noise. There's absolutely no way to tell what the original data was.

The other important thing is that the key is nearly unguessable. As in, with current technology, will generally take more than the lifetime of the universe to guess by chance. And when technology gets faster, we just make the numbers bigger again until they're once again secure.

For any major website you use, they will use a strong encryption algorithm (ie lock) with big numbers so your keys will be strong enough to withstand an attack. This means your data is safe as long as that lock icon is in your URL bar.

A VPN will not make the existing garble any more garbled. The extra $10/month or whatever you're paying for does not buy you any extra protection.

If you want to know more about how encryption and HTTPS in particular work, see the "I like too much detail" section at the end of this post.

Something something viruses

How's a VPN going to stop viruses? It controls the path your internet traffic takes, not the content that gets sent down that path. I guess it could block some known virus-giving hosts? But if it's known to the VPN provider, it's probably also known to the built-in antivirus on your computer who can block it for you.

(Oh yeah, 3rd party antivirus is another thing that's not worth paying for these days. Microsoft's built-in Windows Defender is as good as the third party options, and something something Macs don't get viruses easily because of how they're architected.)

Honestly though, keep your software up to date, don't click on anything suspicious, don't open files from sources you don't trust, and you'll be right most of the time.

And keep your software up to date. Then update your software. Hey, did I mention keeping your stuff updated? Update! Now! It only takes a few minutes. Please update to the latest version of your software I'm begging you. It's the number 1 way to protect yourself from viruses and other malware. Most major software attacks could have been prevented if people just updated their damn software!

But my ISP is spying on me!

Ok, it is true that there are TWO bits of data that HTTPS can't and won't hide. Those are:

The source of a request (your IP)

What website that request is going to (the website's IP)

These are the bits of information that routers use to know where to send your data, so of course they can't be hidden as the data is moving across the internet. And people can see that information very easily if they want to.

Note: this will show which website you're going to, but not which page you're looking at, and not the content of that page. So it will show that you were on Tumblr, but will not show anyone that you're still reading SuperWhoLock content in 2021.

It's this source/destination information that VPNs hide, which is why they can be used to bypass website blocks and region locks.

By using a VPN, those sniffing traffic on your side of the VPN will just show you connecting to the VPN, not the actual website you want. That means you can read AO3 at work/school without your boss/teachers knowing (unless they look over your shoulder of course).

As for those sniffing on the websites end, including the website itself, they will see the VPN as the source of the connection, not you. So if you're in the US and using a VPN node in the UK, Netflix will see you as being in the UK and show you their British library rather than the American one.

If this is what you're using a VPN for and you think the price is fair, then by all means keep doing it! This is 100% what VPNs are good for.

HOWEVER, and this is a big "however", if it's your ISP you're trying to hide your internet traffic from, then you will want to think twice before using a VPN.

Let me put it this way. Without a VPN, your ISP knows every website you connect to and when. With a VPN, do you know who has that exact same information? The VPN provider. Sure, many claim to not keep logs, but do you really trust the people asking for you to send them all your data for a fee to not just turn around and sell your data on for a profit, or worse?

In effect, you're trading one snooper for another. One snooper is heavily regulated, in many jurisdictions must obey net neutrality, and is already getting a big fee from you regardless of where you browse. The other isn't. Again, it's all a matter of who you trust more.

For me personally, I trust my ISP more than a random VPN provider, if for no other reason than my ISP is an old enough company with enough inertia and incompetence that I don't think they could organise to sell my data even if they wanted to. And with the amount of money I'm paying them per month, they've only got everything to lose if they broke consumer trust by on-selling that data. So yeah, I trust my ISP more with my privacy than the random VPN company.

But my VPN comes with a password manager!

Password managers are great. I 100% recommend you use a password manager. If there's one thing you could do right now to improve your security (other than updating your software, speaking of, have you updated yet?), it's getting and using a password manager.

Password managers also come for free.

I'm currently using LastPass free, but am planning to switch after they did a bad capitalism and only let their free accounts access either laptop or mobile but not both now. I personally am planning to move to Bitwarden on friends' recommendation since it's not only free but open source and available across devices. I also have friends who use passbolt and enjoy it, which is also free and open source, but it's also a bit DIY to set up. Great if you like tinkering though! And there are probably many other options out there if you do a bit of googling.

So, yeah, please use a password manager, but don't pay for it unless you actually have use for the extra features.

No I really need to hide my internet activity from everybody for reasons

In this case, you're probably looking for TOR. TOR is basically untraceable. It's also a terrible user experience for the most part because of this, so I'd only recommend it if you need it, such as if you're trying to escape the Great Firewall. But please don't use it for Bad Crimes. I am not to be held liable for any crime committed using information learned from this post.