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#you workin' john?
thapunqueen · 9 months
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“In my heart stands a scarecrow, if he’s hurt he doesn’t say so, and he chases everything he loves away but at night when it’s colder, there’s a bluebird on his shoulder and he whispers that he’ll hold her one bright day”
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uhmmm EXCUSE ME PLEASE?????
you can't just post that pic of neil ellice in nothing but that kilt without warning 🥵 🥵🥵
sorry not sorry 😝
have you seen his instagram?!?!
he
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is just
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like this
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mermaidlighthouse · 5 months
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Feeling some sort of way that ye olde makeup sponge is……..a fuckin sponge 🙃🙃🙃
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bunnvoid · 2 years
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Have a mini Night Culture comic sneak peek! It was done as a collaboration with @ravendraculina for a final where she had to basically make a book! 
The book is literally so cool! When I finish the pages that didn’t make it to the book I’ll be sharing them here!
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2/1 🌊⛵️
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i've managed to distact my dog so here are some photos of my husband back in the 90's <3
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earlgreydream · 8 months
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shattered. | tommy shelby x reader angst
He promised you.
tommy shelby angst. because my heart aches.
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"Where is he?" You demanded, glaring hard at Arthur.
Thomas' brother avoided your eyes, muttering to get back behind the bar at the Garrison. You reached out and shoved his shoulder, knocking him back against the bar, catching him off-balance.
"Don't ya fuckin' lay your hands on me, woman!" Arthur yelled at you, getting in your face.
"Tell me where Tommy is!" you yelled back, feeling dozens of shocked eyes boring into you.
You weren't afraid of anything, not even the Shelby's. You had been looking for Tommy, who had promised to meet you at the train station. You'd waited for him on the platform, suitcase in hand, waiting to be whisked off to France with Tommy.
Thomas Shelby had promised to take you to France.
.
"Tommy," you called to him, walking into his office.
You climbed onto his desk, sitting in front of him as he leaned back, taking a drag from the cigarette between his full lips. His large hand came down to your thigh, squeezing gently and rubbing your leg.
"Come to bed," you whispered, lips hovering over his cheek before pressing a kiss against his warm skin.
"I'm workin'"
You shifted, moving the straps of your slip off your shoulders, the delicate fabric fluttering down to gather around your waist, tempting Tommy with your bare upper body. He leaned back, taking a good look at you as he smoked, dark blue eyes drinking in every inch of you.
"But I need you," you whined, parting your thighs and pulling back the fabric to show him your sex, dripping with desire for him.
"Jesus fucking christ," Thomas swore, pushing your knees open as you tried to close them, teasing him.
"Come to bed."
He stood so abruptly you jumped, the mobster towering over you. After putting out his cigarette, Thomas lifted you up under your knees, carrying you upstairs naked, leaving your flimsy slip on his desk downstairs.
Within minutes, you were writhing on his sheets, pulling hard at his ink-black hair as he ate you out mercilessly. His hot tongue lapped up everything you had to give him, tasting you until you were reduced to ragged screams.
The first time you came on his tongue, but he promised more, moving over you to bury his cock in your soaking pussy, pounding hard and deep as you clung desperately to him. Your nails dragged red lines down his freckled back, your face buried into his shoulder, muffling your moans as his hips connected with yours.
He kissed your neck as you threw your head back, unable to stop a second orgasm from shattering through your body, squeezing tightly around him, pulling Thomas into the chasm with you.
"Don't, don't," you begged hoarsely as he tried to pull out, grabbing his arm to stop him.
"What? You want to warm my cock?"
"Please, stay inside me for a little longer," you begged, exhaling as he settled down, halfway on top of you, buried inside.
"I want to get away from here," you whispered, brushing his hair from his eyes, his head lying on your chest.
"I want to take you away from here," Thomas confessed, squeezing your waist, burying his face in you, fantasizing about taking you away from all of the violence of his job, to live happily together somewhere west of Paris.
"It will be perfect. We'll have horses, I'll paint your barn red," he promised, his fingers gently stroking your bare skin as he spoke.
"I've never wanted anything else other than to be with you," you confessed.
"I'll get you away from here, I promise."
.
You had waited at the train station, and he never came. You watched the train to Paris come and go, shattering the pieces of your heart and dragging them away with it. Your throat was raw as you made the long walk back to the Garrison to look for him, to figure out why the hell he had stood you up and left you alone.
"John! Where the fuck is Tommy?!" you shouted, looking at his younger brother, turning away from Arthur after getting nowhere with him.
John looked at his feet, refusing to answer you. You picked up a glass off the bar and threw it at the floor, watching it shatter - just like your heart.
"Stop it, right now."
You knew the commanding voice anywhere - Tommy walked out from the back, his eyes hard as he stared you down.
"Where were you?!" you demanded furiously, your chest heaving as you forced back sobs.
"You will not continue to make a scene in my bar," he spoke with unwavering authority, stepping back and opening the door, silently instructing you to follow him.
"You will not tell me what to do!" the words burned your throat, your heel hitting the wooden floor with a resounding crack that sent a wave of certainty up your spine.
You could tell he was fighting back emotion as he walked up to you and grabbed your elbow. He was careful not to hurt you, but dragged you into the privacy of the back room.
"Let go!"
He released you, leaning back against the closed door so you couldn't get past him, trapping you in the room.
"Why, Tommy?" you asked, your voice shaking.
"I had to accept an engagement deal to the prime minister's daughter. It's for business, we need it to-"
You stepped back like you'd been slapped, a sharp pain exploding through your chest.
"For your business? Last night, you promised to leave it all behind and get away with me," you were unable to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks.
He leaned forward to touch you, but you drew away, backing against the opposite wall, putting as much space as he could between the two of you. Tommy brought his knuckles to his mouth, exhaling a wounded sigh into his hand.
"I have to do this, for my brothers."
"You promised me, Tommy. You slept inside of me last night! You said you loved me!" you screamed, breaking down into full-out sobs, crumbling into pieces.
The pain in his eyes was evident, but it only made you angrier. He had chosen his business over you, a loveless marriage over you - over all of the promises he made under the moon. Years of love and sex and memories shattered in a day, and you were left with no idea how to pick up the pieces.
"It's not just about me, it's not just about you."
"That's a weak excuse," you hissed, slapping his hand away when he reached out to touch you.
"I do love you," he whispered.
"You broke my heart, Thomas Shelby."
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floralpascal · 4 months
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Taking Care of You
Summary: You've been stressed out and working like crazy lately. John finally has enough and devises a plan to take care of you and make you forget all about your work.
Pairing: John Price x f!reader (no use of y/n)
Word Count: 2.9k
Rating: Explicit (18+ only, minors do not interact)
Warnings: stressed reader, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), orgasm denial, praise
A/N: This one goes out to all my stressed and busy babes out there! This is 100% self indulgent since I've been working day and night recently. We all need us some Price to take that stress away
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You knew that you had been distant for a while. Work had been piling up on you, responsibilities pressing in from all sides. It seemed like all you did was work, work, work these days. 
Your husband, John Price, was as supportive as he always was. He, of all people, understood that sometimes you just had to put your head down and get work done. When he was home with you, he always made sure that you ate and stayed hydrated. He limited your caffeine intake. He made sure you took breaks. In all, he was the most supportive, understanding man on the planet. 
…which was why his reaction now was so surprising. 
You saw him approach the makeshift office that you had set up at your kitchen table from over your laptop screen. In a soft, even voice he ordered, “Close the computer, love.”
Continuing to type, you spared him a questioning glance as you shook your head. “I just took a break like… an hour ago.”
“Three,” he corrected. “It’s almost eleven at night.”
You whipped your head up to look at the clock that hung on the wall behind him. Sure enough, he was right. Dread spread through you, your brain already kicking into crisis mode. “Shit. God, I’ve got to get this done.”
“It’ll be there tomorrow,” he countered. “You’ve been workin’ like mad all weekend long. I’m not gonna let you run yourself into the ground. So. Shut. The. Laptop.”
He stressed each word, and suddenly you felt what it must’ve been like to have John as a Captain, calm but commanding. Your eyes met his, your mouth open to fight him on the matter, but you found him ready for it, a testing eyebrow raised. It was rare that he would ever tell you what to do, but it always came when he was worried about you and trying to take care of you. Any time you had gotten a significant injury, he had made sure that you stuck to every word of the doctor’s orders. 
You huffed and leaned back, already sensing defeat. Instead, you tried to plead with him, “John, I won’t be able to sleep unless I get this done. I’ll just keep thinking about it.”
He put one hand on the table, leaned toward you, and pushed the laptop closed with the other hand. With his face barely a breath from yours and his eyes darkening, he rumbled, “I can fix that.”
Your body reacted to his sultry insinuation immediately, your heart rate jumping in an instant. You couldn’t help but drop your gaze to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “And how’s that?”
“I’ll make it so that you can barely even think anymore. I’ll wear you out so much you’ll fall asleep without even a thought about this,” he said, tapping the closed lid of your laptop. 
At times like this, you hated how easy it was for him to get you riled up. He knew exactly how to play you, exactly how to make his gravelly voice even more enticing, exactly what to say to get you squirming in your seat for him like you were now. 
You pressed your lips together, thinking for a moment. You couldn’t pretend that you didn’t want this. You were so tired of all the work and John knew exactly how to play you. But if he was going to have some fun, then so were you. With a provocative flit to your voice, you challenged, “Then prove it, Captain.”
For a moment, all he did was let a sultry smile pull at his lips. Then he was on you, his hands guiding you up from your chair and his lips finding yours. It was all fire and passion, but yet not too rushed. No, John never rushed this early. He loved to work you up slowly and leave you begging for him to just touch you already. He followed that playbook now, walking you backwards to press you up against the wall, his hand guarding your head from hitting it. 
As he tilted your head to give his lips access to your neck, he rasped against your burning skin, “Never too stressed to tease me, are you?”
Your breath hitched as he found the sensitive part of your neck, your hands clawing at his back and tangling in his short hair. After a moment, he moved back up to kiss you, his tongue dancing with yours for a long while. 
Eventually, his hands on your hips guided you to walk with him towards your shared bedroom. You took turns pulling at the other’s clothes, leaving a trail haphazardly in your wake. By the time you both passed through the doorway, John was only in his boxers and you in your plain black bra and panties. As he laid you back onto the bed, he eyed you as hungrily as he did when you wore lingerie for him. 
“D’ya know how fuckin’ sexy you are, love?” His hands pressed against your stomach before roaming up, up, up as slowly as possible. Your eyes fluttered shut as he ghosted his hands over your bra, arching shamelessly into his touch. Still drinking the sight of you in, he rasped, “Gotta take care of you. Gotta make sure I get rid of all that stress, all those worries.”
“John…” you whined, already needy and falling for his plan. One side of his mustache raised in a smile, clearly understanding that he already had you right how he wanted you. “Just touch me, please.”
John chuckled, giving your breasts a quick squeeze before placing a kiss just over your heart. “I am touchin’ you, baby.”
“Fuck, John, you know what I mean.”
He pressed the faintest of kisses up your chest and to your neck. Against the skin of your neck, he teased, “Maybe I don’t. Tell me. Use your words, love.”
Despite his insistence, he gave you no time to answer. Instead, his lips found the sensitive column of your neck, the touch no longer feather-light like it had been before. Now, he kissed and nipped with a passion that had you gasping beneath him. 
“Hhm? I didn’t catch that. Gotta speak up,” he mumbled next to your ear, the heavy timber of it sending shivers down your spine. But you could feel the curve of his lips against your soft skin, his beard prickling you as he did. 
“Don’t be a tease,” you grumbled halfheartedly. Even now, though, you couldn’t resist him. Giving in, you begged, “God, just fuck me, John.”
He made a sound of appreciation, deep and reverberating, the kind you could feel in your own chest. Leaning up over you, his icy blue eyes came to meet yours. “Now, was that really that hard?”
You rolled your eyes, suppressing your own smile as you grabbed his neck and leaned up to give him a bruising kiss. Returning the heat immediately, he dropped the act for a moment. Lips moving in tandem with yours, urgency lacing every movement, you felt him get lost in it. Surely enough, as he adjusted over top of you, you felt his hard-on graze your lower stomach. You chased him, hooking a leg over his hip to roll your hips against him. He groaned into your mouth, eyes squeezed shut. 
“So impatient today,” John chided. He pulled away and sat up, his hands coming to unhook and discard your bra on the floor. As he went to do the same with your underwear, you breathed a sigh of relief thinking that the torture of his teasing was finally over. 
Settling between your thighs, a man in heaven, he brought his mouth close to where you needed him. However, at the last second, his breath dusting your sensitive skin, he turned and brought his lips to the inside of your thigh instead. He still couldn’t hide his smile when you groaned in frustration. 
You were in for a hell of a ride. When he got in a teasing mood like this, there was no stopping him. 
Beard and mustache picking deliciously against you, he kissed up one thigh. Then, when he almost reached your center again, your breath hitching, he switched to the other thigh. There were some days when he did this that it felt like heaven — days when you were already losing yourself to the feel of him before he even got going. While you tried to conjure up that more present, more patient version of yourself, it didn’t seem possible now. You needed him so badly it ached. 
When your fingers found their way into his hair and gave him a light tug in the direction you needed him, he finally let you have your way. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, a small chuckle shaking the broad plane of his back. As he lowered his head, his hooded eyes meeting yours, he purred, “If tha’s really what you want, love. Have it your way.”
With that, he finally brought his tongue to you. Ever so slowly, he licked into you, drawing a gasp from your chest. Sliding his hands up from your hips to hold the sides of your stomach, his tongue made a twin journey up to your clit. He flicked his tongue a few times, slowly testing you.
Though it was all too slow for your liking, he steadily built up the pace. The scrape of his beard. The flick of his tongue. The reverb of his moan as you tugged on his strands. It was a delicious cycle, speeding up each time through. 
You let your head tip back into the pillow as you finally felt that tension in your stomach — a coil winding tighter and tighter. Your breath was ragged now, your legs already bracing around John’s head. 
“Yes,” you panted, eyes squeezed shut. “Just like that. I’m so- I’m so clo-”
Right as you were about to crest that hill, John pulled away all at once. Your orgasm dissipated like a wave against the beach — there one moment and gone the next. 
You whipped your head up to look at him, disbelief and righteous fury in your eyes. You were met only with a hungry, conniving smirk from the infuriatingly sexy man between your thighs. In this moment, even with his beard and the signs of age on his face, he didn’t seem a day older than the first time you had seen this smirk. The John Price that smirked in triumph at you now was the same as the John Price who had done it for the first time nearly a decade earlier. Had you not just had euphoria ripped away from you, you probably would’ve been more sentimental about this revelation. 
“Jonathan Price, I swear to god-”
You were cut off by another one of his chuckles. He licked his lips slowly, making sure you watched as he tasted you. “Still too stressed, love. Don’t think you’re ready yet.”
“You teasing asshole,” you huffed, but the edge was lost to it. 
It only made him smirk even more. “Fine,” he acquiesced, leaning back down. “Let’s try this again.”
At the same time that his mouth found your clit again, one of his hands traveled down to slip a finger into your dripping entrance. A small moan escaped you at the new sensation. As he started to build you back up again, his mouth and finger moving in tandem, you couldn’t help but forget his past transgressions. All that mattered now was the buildup leading to the big drop, the wonder that John could work between your thighs. 
Suddenly, he slipped a second finger into you, drawing a surprised whine from your lips. “Ohh… oh, fuck…”
He groaned in approval, the vibrations of his mouth against you only upping the unbearable pleasure. 
You were there again, so close to the edge that you could practically see it. Your body tensed in anticipation of the drop like a rollercoaster. It was just-
John pulled away again, shattering the buildup to your orgasm for the second time.
You let out a pained hybrid of a groan and a whine. Now, rather than annoyance coursing its way through you, all you had was desperation. “Fuck! John, please!”
“Hmmm, there we go,” he mused. “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.”
“Please let me come, baby,” you pleaded. “I need it so bad.”
Pushing himself up, your heart sunk at the thought that he might keep teasing you and leave you hanging. Though he was never, ever one to leave you wanting, you were too far out of it to think straight anymore. All you knew was that you needed him and he was holding that just out of reach. 
Instead, he climbed up to lean over you. With a gentle hand, he cradled your jaw, making you look at him. Your slick glistened on his chin and beard. His pupils were blown wide, the icy blue of them nearly lost to it. With how much self control he had, his eyes and the tent in his boxers were the only indications that he was as affected by this as you were. 
“D’ya think you’re ready for me, beautiful? Think you can take me?”
You nodded immediately, still breathless. “Need you so bad, baby. Please. I can take it.”
He searched your eyes for a moment before nodding. “That’s my girl.”
Finally, he stripped off his boxers, revealing his red, leaking cock. You couldn’t stop the small whine you made at the sight, your need for him overriding any coherent thought.
John pushed into you in one swift stroke, drawing your nails to scrape across his back. The stretch was delicious, tearing you apart and soothing the insatiable ache in your core at the same time.
“Feel so fuckin’ perfect. So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he praised. If the feeling of him seated inside you wasn’t already enough to set you ablaze, his praise was. It always was. 
His arms came to rest by either side of your head as he leaned down and stole a heated kiss from your lips. Then, he drew himself slowly out of you before sharply driving back into you again. Your body shook with the force of it, forcing you to break from his lips as you let out the most lewd moan of the night. 
But, of course, that was just the beginning. John continued like that, fucking you harder with every quick snap of his hips until the only sound in your bedroom was the slap of skin on skin and both of your grunts and moans of pleasure.
“This what you needed, baby?” John asked, voice gravelly and breathy. “You needed to get fucked this good?”
Your voice caught in your throat, a strangled sound coming out in place of an affirmation.
He sped up his pace, his cock hitting so deep within you that you had to squeeze your eyes shut. He groaned, “My good girl. Always workin’ so bloody hard. You deserve this — deserve to just let me take care of you.”
Your pussy clenched around him at his praise, drawing groans from you both. You clawed at his back, searching for some sort of tether in the tidal wave of pleasure you were trapped in now. For the third time tonight, you could see the salvation of your orgasm on the horizon. Having been denied it so many times, its immensity and force was almost alarming. 
Though you were too lost in John to think clearly, you were able to gasp out one plea. “Don’t stop! Baby, don’t- don’t stop!”
Rhythm growing sloppy, John assured, “Not gonna stop this time. Been so fuckin’ good for me. Come for me, love.”
That’s all it took to have you falling apart on his cock, the tension in your stomach snapping in an overwhelming flood of euphoria. Breath catching in your chest as you rode out the high, John continued to fuck you through it, murmuring deep praises all the while. 
Just as you were coming back down to earth, your body finally feeling like it was yours again, John was nearing his high. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned, head lowered by your ear. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he was burying himself to the hilt in you, his warm cum coating your walls. You gasped at the feeling as he ground his hips into yours a little.
Still propped on his arms, he sagged down over you, his breath ragged like yours. You dragged a hand up from his shoulder blade and into his hair, letting your fingers card through the soft strands as John came back to you and pulled out. Then, he lifted up enough to meet your gaze again. He took you in for a moment before leaning down and giving you one last heated kiss. 
The two of you clearly spent, he leaned his forehead against yours after he broke away. He brought a large, calloused hand to brush against your cheek. 
“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he mused. “I love you.”
You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I love you.”
“Feelin’ better?”
“So much better,” you answered. The stress and pressure you had felt for days was gone now, replaced only with the feeling of John. For the first time in a long time, you truly felt relaxed. 
“I told you I could fix it,” he said triumphantly, wiggling an eyebrow at you.
After taking a moment to clean you both up, John crawled back into bed and shifted to spoon you from behind. With his strong arm over your stomach and your legs intertwined, you let him envelop you. As sleep slowly pulled you under, the only thought on your mind was him.
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queers-gambit · 5 months
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Aces
prompt: ( requested ) during a terrible storm, you're invited to stay at your boss' house. years of tip-toeing around one another comes to an end when emotions are finally laid on the table.
pairing: Tommy Shelby x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Peaky Blinders
word count: 3.5k+
warning: honestly, it's pretty tame. some cursing, kinda-sorta one bed, most def OC Tommy, fluff, author is def on the Grace Hating Train but it's mild.
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With a grunt, you threw the file of paperwork from your hands across the empty room; scattering across the floor. You were agitated, grouchy, beyond exhausted, and yet, there was no use in trying to leave when the worst storm to ransack England was being unleashed from the seediest parts of hell.
All you wanted was to go to bed for about 16 hours, but as midnight ticked closer and closer, that dream was dwindling. You'd be lucky to get a few hours at this point since your job was demanding enough to warrant early mornings and late nights. But this night was later than ever before.
You often wondered if your employer's antics brought this hell-storm upon you all, but figured, God didn't care that much about Small Heath. He most certainly didn't care for the Devil running it.
"Woah!" A voice laughed when the file went flying. "Gott'an arm on yah, love! Nearly took me fuckin' eye out!"
"Ha-ha," you mocked John Shelby, your employer's younger brother. "What're you still doing here?"
"I was about to ask you the same," he smirked, squatting so he was in front of you with an exaggerated pout. "Why're you still here, love? Tommy's still gotcha workin'?"
"No, it's my own vocation."
"Tommy don't pay overtime, sweetheart."
"No shit," your eyes rolled. "In case I'm the only one capable of seeing it, there's an outlandish storm outside that prevents me from getting home." You gestured around where you sat on the floor, surrounded by files and other paperwork, "So, what else was I gonna do to pass the time?"
"It's not that bad," he waved you off. "C'mon, I'm off t'the Garrison, come with me, love. We can drink 'til the storm passes, huh?"
"John, seriously, I'm warning you," you deadpanned, watching him adjust his flatcap.
"C'mon, sweet cheeks, we can endure it," he laughed, opening the door and literally being shoved back by the force of the wind. You didn't make a sound, just reaching to hold down the papers around you as he grunted and groaned, trying to shut the flailing door; only able to once he threw his entire weight into it.
"Told you," you mused, his face and coat dripping wet from the short time the door was open.
"So, you're staying here, then?" He asked, panting, trying to play off the entire ordeal.
"I figured I'd get some more work done, it's not like Tommy gives any days off," you shrugged.
"He'd give you whatever you asked for," John smirked, taking his coat off.
"No, he needs me to do shit on the daily, there aren't days off, John Boy," you rolled your eyes playfully. "But I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to work for you idiots."
"Hey," he pouted.
"Oh, honey, if it helps any, you're my favorite idiot!"
"Good," he pointed at you with a small laugh. "But seriously, love, if you need the day off, Tommy would do it."
"No, there's so much to do here," you frowned. "We're on track to reopen in a few weeks, and if I take a day off, we'll fall behind, and you know Tommy doesn't do delays."
The gambling den the Shelby's operated was getting a make over now that The Shelby Company Limited was soon to be up and running. Hence why you were there in an empty room with only files around you and a dimly lit lap, you were trying to get shit organized before furniture could be moved back in.
You would have to restock Polly's office, Tommy's, Arthur's, and John's - all of who were Company members and would need their space to work. Not to mention the completely different office Tommy was currently eyeing to use as his base of operation, something you, as his personal assistant, was expected to help with every step of the way. Honestly, it was a miracle Tommy was ever able to get shit done before you - an organizational Goddess.
"Well," John sighed, looking around for a moment before shrugging and placing his hands on his hips, "want some help?"
You chuckled, "No, it's all right, John, you go on. Surely the lads will be home soon - "
Speak of the Devil! And He will appear!
The door burst open, sending your files every which way from the gust of wind; several bodies shoving their way inside before the lone, single body of Tommy Shelby stalked in last. He shut the door without issue, being a force of nature himself; a professionally observant, silent, lone menace that commanded the attention of any room he walked into. People on the street parted for him like the Red Sea, flocked to the darkened parts of the streets just to get a glimpse of the gangster in motion.
For as long as you can remember, you've harbored overwhelming affection for your boss, but never once vocalized it out of sheer fear of rejection.
He was Thomas Shelby. He was an enigma; a mysterious, stoic man that instilled a sense of fear and respect from those around him. You included, but yet never dare let your admiration for your employer be known in public. You loved him from a distance; admiring him and feeling yourself fall further into your unrequited love due to the intimate proximity you shared. He's always treated you as exactly what you were - a valuable member of the Company and his personal assistant. You worked intimately together on a daily basis, and each night you went home, you would scream into a pillow out of sheer frustration.
Being his personal assistant meant you were constantly in close proximity, and no matter how hard you tried to fight your feelings, it was impossible. He was Thomas bloody Shelby - insanely suave, charismatic, a deep nut to crack, but once he opened up, he was insanely loyal, caring, even decently amusing. He was all you wanted, but never felt secure enough to admit your feelings for him.
You were greeted happily by the men, all piling into the Shelby home to take refuge from the storm. You were left to silently rock to your feet and start gathering the papers that had gone flying in their entrance, glancing up when a hand offered help in rounding up your supplies. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby, but I got it," you insisted quietly, accepting the pages he handed you.
Tommy always had a soft spot for you.
He was silent for a moment, then asked, "What're you still doin' here?"
"Storm makes it impossible to get home," you shrugged. "I was waiting until it lessened, but it doesn't seem to," you glanced out the window, still shuffling files and papers together.
"You've worked all day," he sighed, "c'mon."
"Uh... Where?"
"Think you've earned a drink," he eased, already striding out of the room. You quickly finished gathering your papers, stacking them all together, but was pleasantly shocked when Tommy returned to the empty room with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.
"Mr. Shelby, don't - "
But he was already sat on the ground, back against a wall, watching you with amusement. "Think a man's too good to sit on the floor?" He asked, uncorking the bottle.
"When their suit is so expensive that I have to take it to a specific cleaners, perhaps, then yes," you answered truthfully.
"I've money to spare, I can send this suit to be cleaned by another errand boy, you won't have to any longer," he poured two glasses of whiskey, "but tonight's company is too good to pass up."
You laughed, "Oh, no, what did you do?"
"Hmm?"
"You're kissing my arse a little, what've you done? What mess do I have to clean tomorrow?"
He smirked as you finally sat beside him, a bit stiffly, but accepted the drink he served. "Nothing, love, this storm's put a halt on everything," he gestured to the window, unaware that your heart stalled in your chest when you heard him call you 'love'. "What is it you were working on?" He asked, fingering the few files stacked between you. "Ah," he mused, reading the titles of the packets, "trying to get a jump on tomorrow, huh?"
"Not very much else to do," you shrugged. "I... I got a little frustrated. I think I'll need Polly to go over a few things with me."
"I'm sure you've got it," he spoke quietly. "I wouldn't have hired you if incapable."
You nodded, "Right, of course, sir."
Mr. Shelby offered you a look, taking a swig of whiskey. "You know, after hours, you don't have to be so professional."
"You didn't hire me to be unprofessional, though."
"No, I didn't, but this isn't a work meeting," he offered his glass. "We can still be friendly, can we not?"
You clinked his glass with yours, "Sure, of course we can..." How the hell could you be 'friendly' to the man you've pined after for the past two years? "So, I heard Grace skipped town," you started, instantly wincing when you realized what you said. "I-I'm so sorry, Mr. Shelby, I didn't mean to - "
But he chuckled, "You heard correct." He waited a long moment, then offered, "She's gone - for good."
You tested the waters, "Is... That a good thing?"
"It is."
"I thought you liked the barmaid?"
"I thought I did, too, but I've been wrong before."
"I doubt that."
"No, truly," he smirked, "I've made my fair share of mistakes."
"That you'd be willing to admit to?"
"Well, that's a different story," he mused, downing the last of his glass. "C'mon," he decided, sitting up, "the others are in the den, if you'd like to join?"
"Oh, no, I don't wish to intrude."
"Where were you going to sleep, then? If this storm doesn't die off in the next hour?" You gestured to where your coat and belongings were bunched up beside you, shrugging lightly. "No, absolutely not," he glared when he took in your makeshift bed, "you're coming in, you'll stay the night here."
"No, you lot are having family time - "
"And why do you assume you aren't family yet?" He asked sharply, making you reel back a little. "Three years, you've worked with my family, a portion of that before any of us came home. C'mon, love, you're more family than others wish to pretend to be."
"You mean that?" You worried softly.
He offered a look of mild offense, "I don't speak to hear the sound of my own voice. I would not say it if I did not mean it."
The whiskey in your system encouraged you to offer a sharp look, snipping, "It would not kill you to just say, 'Yes, I mean it.'"
Tommy smirked lightly, nodding, "Yes, I mean it. Come, you'll stay here tonight."
You couldn't fight off the smile even if you tried. With your coat and purse in one hand, Tommy took the other to help you off the floor. Like a gentleman, he took your belongings before leading you further into the Shelby home; leaving the empty gambling den to find the others all stuffed around a table with a card game loudly being played; fireplace stoked to life.
Polly greeted you happily, not knowing you were still here. Tommy set your things to the side as Arthur wrangled you into the seat beside him - insisting you had to be on his team! A quick sniff of his tea mug assured he was waist deep in the whiskey.
"Okay! New player at the table!" John announced, yanking all the cards back to hand over to Polly. They were all smoking, minus you and Finn. "You all know the rules - hey, hey, hey, no! Tommy's not on her team!" He pointed at you and his brother, who had sat beside you to sandwich you between Shelby's.
"Why not?" Tom asked, accepting the tea from Polly as Finn handed you your own.
"Thank you, little love," you whispered, pecking his cheek as he giggled.
"Becuase you two can communicate without words - it's fucking weird!" John insisted. "All right! Polly, you're with Tommy - the fucker likes to cheat."
"Being better than you isn't cheating, John Boy."
"Is when there's money on the line!" John laughed, Arthur leaning over to explain to you the game. He was actually a very good teacher, and even for a few rounds, you weren't a "viable player" just to let you watch and get the gist of things.
However, when you joined the game, it was far more intense than you had given credit for. But the Shelby's were competitive lads, Polly just happy to laugh and remind the boys of the rules; letting them dominate the table as you were content to just watch, laugh, and sip your tea. After a few rounds, Finn came over and hopped up on your lap, declaring you two a team now, and believe it or not, you won the next three hands!
"CHEATERS! AYE!?" John yelled, laughing right after as a boom of thunder rattled the home.
"No, call that beginners luck!" Arthur tried to defend, Tommy lighting a new cigarette.
"Or maybe John's just not accustomed to losing?" You grinned. "Especially from a lady?"
"I lost to a lady? Where? Where is she?" John looked around comically, earning a swift kick under the table that rattled the tea cups.
"All right, all right, next hand, we play for money, come on, come on, bets in the center," Polly instructed. "Finn, don't," she warned and you reached up to push the lad's hand down as he was ready to toss in a few pounds.
"Here, I'll cover us," you told the little lad, both grinning when you offered money to the center. Unknown to you, Tommy was keeping mental track of however much you were betting - intent to pay you back. Yet he didn't say anything, content to watch you and Finn have fun together.
Arthur and John were the most vocal of the group, arguing about scores and tallies and who won which round. You chuckled as Finn leaned into your chest, everyone waiting for the two to finish arguing; Polly looking over with a broad smirk before dropping her gaze. Tommy had seemingly naturally moved closer to you, one arm extended behind your chair to keep you close to his warmth.
Neither seemed to notice.
Not even when you would turn to crack a joke directly in Tommy's ear, his lips spreading in an easy smile that made Polly fight off her own grin. Grace was something special to Tommy, sure, this was true, but after the time together, she could tell that the two of you had become something more - without even verbalizing it.
Never realizing.
Hours passed, the storm still raged, two cartons of cigarettes was smoked between the lot of them, and there was no clear winner in sight. Finn had fully deflated into your embrace, asleep despite the loud thunder and blinding flashes of lightning. Your head had lulled onto Tommy's shoulder, sleep clawing at your eyelids as you listened to a drunken John and Arthur still argue about the card game. Polly eventually called it quits and bid everyone a goodnight, smiling softly when she noted the cozy seating between you and Tommy.
The longer you sat there, you more exhausted you became.
"C'mon, love," Tommy whispered softly, rousing you from your half-sleep, "let's get you to bed. C'mon, up you get," he smirked, aiding you from your chair as you kept a firm hold on his little brother. "We'll see you lot in the morning," he told his brothers.
"Night," John and Arthur waved, still deep into their argument, but smirking to one another when Tommy lead you up the stairs. When you were gone from sight, John leaned in and asked his eldest brother, "Think Tommy'll make a move tonight?"
Arthur glanced up the stairs, musing, "If he doesn't, he might be stupider then we thought."
John agreed.
Upstairs, Tommy opened the bedroom door and let you lay Finn softly on his bed, pausing to tug his shoes off and cover him with his blanket; moving his stuffed teddy bear closer and watching his sleeping hand naturally curl around it. You snuck out of the door, Tommy shutting the door, and tangled your hand with his.
Silently, he lead you to his bedroom.
It was small, ridiculously small, but it was enough for his single person. Tommy shut the door after you, moving around, muttering, "You can sleep in this," as he handed you one of his shirts, "and I'll be in the drawing room if you need me - "
"Tommy, I'm not kicking you out of your room," you sighed. "I can sleep on the sofa for the night, it's not - "
"I'm not letting you do that," he refused sharply.
"Then we seem to be at an impasse," you decided with perked brows. "Either we're both sleeping on the sofa or we both crash your bed. You choose."
He chuckled dryly, "And here I thought the whiskey would make you less stubborn."
"Wishful thinking."
He nodded, letting you have the room to change and get under the covers. It was decently cold in his room, more so without pants; the storm doing nothing to remedy that, and when Tommy returned, everything felt different.
A good different, but still different.
Neither of you made eye contact, him joining you in the absurdly small bed after blowing the candles out. You settled on your side, facing the wall, and after a few moments of adjusting, Tommy was settling down - but hesitating to deflate in comfort.
"Is it all right if I, uh... If I...?"
"Yeah, 's all right, Tommy," you whispered, reaching for the hand that hovered over your waist and pulling it so he was curled around you. It was all he needed to readjust, sigh to himself, and deflate against your back. You shivered slightly when his warm breath fanned over your neck and shoulder; his hand splaying over your belly and rubbing his thumb mindlessly. "Thank you for letting me stay the night," you whispered.
"Wasn't gonna send you home in this weather," he answered, voice vibrating the shell of your ear. "Besides," he whispered in a sigh, "this is where I wanted you, and where I wanted to be."
You chuckled, "Oh, yeah? So cold in here you need a warm body in bed with you?"
"No," he whispered, "but I've been in love with you for months now that I didn't want you far from me. Doesn't feel right, seeing you go home without me - everyday. I was overjoyed to come back and see you still here."
"What?" He didn't let you turn around, just kept you both there; locked in your spoon. "Tommy, what're you saying?"
He took a sobering breath, "That this is what I want, this is where I want us to be."
"That's the whiskey talking."
"No, love, it's you," his lips danced across your ear, making you shiver. "It's always been you, but I wasn't in my right mind to do anything about it."
"And now you are?"
"I might be, I couldn't go another minute with you thinking I don't want you - that I don't value you in my life. The fact that you were ready to sleep downstairs hurt me more than I'm willing to admit," he sighed, "and I knew, I needed to confess a few things so you know, you're welcome in this family. You won't ever sleep downstairs, love, you're meant to be here... With me... If you want to be."
You had to slap his hand to get him to loosen his grip and let you turn around to face him; but his hand remained on your, moving up to grip your ribs. In a whisper, you asked, "You're being honest? Genuine?"
"I can't lie to you, you can always tell. So, am I lying?"
"I don't think so," you whispered with skepticism, eyes narrowed. Neither of your voices rose above a whisper, "Why say any of this, Tommy?"
"Because the idea of going another day without at least trying to tell you how I feel was beginning to feel suffocating."
"What about Grace?"
"It's taken me a bit, but I know now that I was infatuated with her simply because I had already decided you were out of my league."
"Do you hear yourself?" You grinned, caressing his cheek. "You're everything I've wished for, Tommy, but know I can't have. You're the one in a league of your own, I'm the one unable to touch you."
His head shook, "You're all I've wanted and more. I wasn't sure you'd think it appropriate - my affection for you - given you work for me."
"The same reason I feared voicing my affection for you, too."
"Now that it's in the open," he whispered, "how do you want to proceed?"
"We can figure logistics out later," you smiled, tracing your fingertips over his face, "but for now, I just want to enjoy this. I never thought you'd look at me the same way, and now that you do, I don't want to look away."
"You won't have to," he whispered. "I'm in this for us, my sweet, if you are."
"Nowhere I'd rather be," you whispered, cuddled close, and simply breathing the same air. For a single moment, Tommy felt unparalleled peace; the shovels quiet, heart content, and body warm.
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requesting rules and masterlist
Peaky Blinders masterlist
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crashtestbunny · 12 days
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Retirement (John Price x F!Reader)
CW: Mentions of Soap's death. Love at first sight. Fluff.
Summary: Price has officially retired and is trying to find his stride in civilian life. While coaching his local church's youth football team he meets reader and is immediately sure that retirement was the best call for him.
Word Count: 1k
a/n: This is inspired by the first prompt on the list! I absolutely adore the idea of retired Price getting to live a peaceful life. Man's workin' too hard.
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Retirement struggled to fit John Price. It took some time to find his stride when coming back to civilian life, a decade of service will do that to a man. He was bored senseless, under-stimulated, on high alert, and didn't particularly have hobbies that didn't involve shooting, the gym, or hiking - which he really slowed down on doing for obvious reasons.
So when he was at his mother's house helping to clear the attic, she mentioned the local church.
"They're looking some volunteers, Johnathan. I talked to Father Graham and he thinks it'd do you a world of good."
"Mum." He grunts as he's trying to squeeze around her with a heavy box of god-knows-what, "Really."
Seeing her son's hesitant disposition she folded her arms and strained her tone, "I told them you would help out, Johnathan. Do you want to disappoint me?"
He is pushing the back door open with his hip as she says that and his expression pales, "No, mum- why'd you- don't be at that." Then he sighs, "I'll go once, and once only. Alright?" and then he's heading out to the bins.
"Alright! Thank you poppet!" She calls after him with a satisfied little smile.
Three months later John Price is standing on the frost-covered pitch, a fleece jacket with 'CAPTAIN' adorning his broad frame. He's hollering in a way that feels good, encouraging his boys to pick up the slack, pass the damn ball, score the goal!
"Will, watch your flank!" He yells between cupped hands, just a moment too late. The boy is slide tackled and goes face first into the cold, hard, earth. The ball swiped from between his legs. Price watches the collision happen in slow motion, a chill running down his spine as he remembers that tunnel in London. He can't help but freeze up in the moment, can do nothing but watch.
A gentle hand is placed on his shoulder and a soft voice urges him, "Call time on the match, give him a chance to get up."
It's enough to make his body react on instinct - used to following orders as well as barking them - and the whistle shrieks out across the pitch to officially halt the match.
Will is pulling himself up, his face covered in dirt but otherwise he was fine. He immediately sprints over to rejoin his team, and Price feels the tension seep from his body. He's reminded that Soap was alright, in a hospital recovering, just as this boy had gotten up and shaken it off, Johnny will too.
"Cheers for that." John turns to address the woman.
Fuck. Her eyes glimmered like the starlight and her face looked as though God himself took a rest once he perfected it. That smile, that smile could send men to war, hell, looking at her now if she told him to get back in the fight he might just do it. Her lips are moving but he can't hear anything except his own heart reverberating.
"Sorry?" He breathes at last.
"I said, think nothin' of it, Captain. You seemed to be a wee bit lost in thought." She reassures, a gentle, warm hand placed on his bicep.
"Right- yeah yeah-" He fumbles awkwardly, and then turns back to refereeing the match, blowing the whistle to continue on again.
Throughout the match you're hollering and whooping, slinging your arm around him in celebration for goals, and he's so swept up in your energy he's almost forgetting what the scores are at, your sweet perfume warming the winter chill from his lungs.
At the end of the match Will is hobbling over, dirty, scuffed, and scraped up, beaming with pride.
"Captain Price, did'ya see me goal!?" he asks.
John chuckles and ruffles his hair, "I saw, good work there lad, just gotta work on your awareness and you'll be unstoppable."
"You did fantastic, Will." You coo, reaching towards your son with a proud smile.
It's then that Price sees the resemblance, and he can't help but take a look at your hand in vain hope.
There's no wedding band. His heart is thundering in his chest, but he sees his opportunity, and knows he should just go for it. He understands the dangers now of not executing things when they should be done.
"How bout I take you and your mum out to food to celebrate?" Price offers Will.
The twelve-year-old is ecstatic and pulling on your sleeve, "Aw ma, please, please! Just this once and I'll do all my chores for a week!"
"You'll blimmin' do 'em regardless." You laugh, but nod in agreement, "That would be nice, Captain-"
"-John." He quickly corrects, "You can call me John." and then he's reaching a hand out to place on the small of your back, "There's a place nearby, if you wouldn't mind?"
His smile is warm and saccharine, his cheeks meeting his eyes in an unfamiliar way, and yet it feels right to see him happy. You can't help but stare into those gentle blue eyes and be softened.
"Of course, I'd really like that. Will tells me so much about you, it'd be nice to finally speak to the enigmatic Captain Price." You joke with a playful roll of the eyes, and he joins in with a hearty chuckle that sings from his chest.
"Let's get you both out of the cold then." He gestures for you to walk with him, you on his right arm and Will on his left, chatting his ear off incessantly.
Retirement struggled to fit John Price. But if retirement meant that he got to speak to you more, hear that laugh, and make your son smile - if it meant he got to play happy family and commit to it, well, he could make retirement fit him.
@glitterypirateduck
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cordiallyfuturedwight · 7 months
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happy birthday, kim namjoon!!
ft. songs that remind me of kim namjoon (listen on spotify) love feat. zachari - kendrick lamar // virgo's groove - beyonce // harvard - diet cig // can't believe the way we flow - james blake // coming home - leon bridges // baby it's you - london grammar // all night parking - adele // bike dream - rostam // chateau lobby #4 - father john misty // drive (los angeles) - lolawolf // workin’ hard - fujii kaze and more!! :)
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Good Fences (Fluffuary #06)
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FEB06: Acts of Devotion
You awoke the next morning to a loud banging outside your window. It was early enough that your alarm still hadn’t gone off. At first, you were scared, but when you glanced outside and saw the broad, strong back of your handsome neighbor, you were pleasantly surprised.
John was wearing suede working gloves with no shirt, wielding a hammer, and building something against the shared wall of your apartments. You slid the door ajar and wrapped your blanket around your shoulders to preserve what little modesty you had left for this man. 
“John?”
“Oh, sorry, love. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he smiled and began to affix another piece of wood to his creation. 
“What is this?”
“You were talkin’ about your tomatoes,” he said, not pausing his work, “Needin’ a trellis, innit that right?”
“Wow,” you took another look at his work and put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. You needed him to hear your gratitude, “John, this is so kind of you. Thank you.”
He towered over you on the porch, and you realized how close you had been standing to him. John was looking down into your face, taking in your words, wrapping them up in his mind and saving them for later. 
He took a gloved hand and tilted your chin up just a bit, as if he might kiss you. You spent ages there, locked in his gaze, breathing the same air, feeling the wind on your cheek and his strong finger on your jaw. But, at the last moment, he turned away, going back to his work. 
You spent the better part of the day working. There were two students who really needed support, and you wanted to do your best for them. You were worn out, and as the afternoon faded away to the evening time, you’d forgotten that you had promised you’d make dinner tonight for John. It was a Wednesday, and those were always your days for dinner. 
When he showed up with a whiskey and a wine, you nearly burst into tears. You held it together, but barely. 
“John, today was an absolute shit show. I haven’t even had time to breathe, much less do dinner. And after you built my trellis for me; I feel terrible for letting you down. Can you please forgive me?”
“Don’t worry, love. I saw you workin’ while I was cleanin’ up outside, and I called Antonio’s an hour ago. Check the bag.”
He set all of his gifts down on your counter for you to inspect. You peered inside and saw what he had done. 
“Oh, my God,” you opened the bag he’d brought and there were two warm pasta carbonara dishes waiting for you. Breadsticks included. “John, you didn’t.”
“You’re busy savin’ the world, love. Feels good to be able to do somethin’ nice for you, if you’ll let me. I know I’m your neighbor, and I know that makes things complicated… but, I like you. And I like spending my time on you. Is that alright?”
You stepped into his space, just as you’d been standing on the porch, and you felt his heavy hands wrap around your waist, cradling you in his strong arms. Then, he cupped your cheek with a warm palm, holding your face up to his. His voice was a ragged whisper,
“If it’s not alright, you’ve gotta tell me now. ‘Cause I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, crashing your lips against his. You felt him react almost immediately, smiling against your mouth, kissing you back. You felt his tongue slide against yours, opening you up to him, tasting you and holding you tightly. 
He only pulled away when you did. Smiling with you, and laughing a bit to himself,
“Bloody hell, I’ve been waiting for that, love.”
“Me, too,” you confessed. 
You were determined to show John how you truly felt about him, so the next day, you knocked on his door, packed and ready to take him on a whole slew of adventures just for him. You’d bought tickets to the local soccer match, and you’d booked an evening at a cigar bar downtown. You’d even planned a small picnic for lunch, but when he opened the door, you felt a lump in your throat. Something wasn’t right.
He was on the phone, and he held a finger to his lips, asking you for silence as you came into his apartment. You shut the door behind you as quietly as you could and sat with him on his couch. He was answering questions in yes and no statements, and you could tell he wanted to fill you in, so you waited patiently. 
Then, he hung up, and he threw his phone down on the coffee table with a loud thud. 
“Bad news, love.”
“What is it? Are you alright?”
He took your hands in his and sighed,
“I’ll be overseas for… work. But, I’ll be back here the moment it’s done.”
“Overseas? For how long?” You put your hands on his cheeks, studying his blue eyes for some answers.
He smiled, but it was a sad one,
“A while.”
When he kissed you this time, it felt like goodbye, and you prayed that it wasn’t.
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Check out the schedule here.
AO3 Link
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lethalchiralium · 1 year
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Tattooed Heart | Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcanon
a/n: this is purely a response to Angel, this is how the 141 reacts to the knowledge of Simon “Ghost” Riley having a daughter. (alejandro, rudy, laswell, and könig meeting winnie soon! also simon meeting you soon as well :)!)
warnings: mentions of afab!reader, cussing, mentions of sex, mentions of death, gaz and price did not know simon knew how to have sex
PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT
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- Obviously, Price is the first to see the video. And of course, he’s absolutely speechless. Hearing Ghost speak in a soft voice was one thing, but seeing evidence that Ghost has 1. Had sex. 2. Got someone pregnant. 3. Has a daughter, was another thing. (He really thought Ghost has never had sex because of his whole aversion to physical touch.)
- And of course, as soon as Ghost gets on base, he is hunting his ass down. (“Since when do you have a baby?!” “Since November.”)
- Price does not ask about Winnie unless he knows absolutely no one is around. No one can eavesdrop, no one will know. Asks Simon about what color she likes best, if he really wears the mask around his daughter. (Which Simon answers, “She likes green right now. And yes. She knows me with or without it.”) He also asks if he can ever meet her. (“Someday, Captain. But not today.”)
- Price meets her on her first birthday. He bought her a little light green bear and a necklace “for when she gets older”. (It’s a Price family heirloom. Price considers Ghost to be one of his closest friends, and doesn’t really want a family himself so why not give it to someone who will appreciate it.) (“Thank you, John.” “It’s no problem, Ghost.”)
- Price learns about Winnie’s mom just before she’s two. She had died in an ambulance after a car crash when she was pregnant, Winnie had to be born via c-section two months early. (The woman was a ‘close friend’, Simon was coming to terms with being a father since she had told him two weeks before she died. He doesn’t speak her name.) She’s a happy child, always loving seeing ‘Uncle John’. Price is all smiles whenever he sees Winnie. (which used to be rare, but Simon has grown to truly trust Price.)
- Right after Winnie turns two, Simon asks Price to be her godfather. Price cried. He babysits sometimes for Simon when his pretty nanny has to go out of town and is always so surprised at how obsessed Winnie is with Simon. (“Where’s Daddy, Uncle John! I want him right now!” “Honey, Dad’s workin’. I’m supposed to be working too, can you- Ah!” Winnie smacks him in the face with some of the kid paint she has. She was ‘scolded’ by Simon when he got home (Simon told her to do it again when Price is being ‘mean’.)) Price would do anything for his goddaughter, he would burn the world for that little girl.
- The Task Force would see the video by accident. (At this point, Winnie is almost 4 and for the sake of this whole thing, TF141 is created BEFORE the events of MW2.) Price was drunk at a bar with Gaz and Soap, scrolling through his phone before saying, “Aww, look at my goddaughter.” And he plays the video.
- Gaz is just fucking bewildered. He’d sober up immediately and take the phone from Price, jaw dropped. “What the fuck.” He’d hand the phone to Soap, who is fucking speechless. (And of course, Price would snatch it away and immediately recognize his wrongdoing and say, “You lot stole my phone and saw that video, I did not show it to ya. I am not in on this.” Trying to get himself out of trouble because he knows that it’s incredibly difficult for Simon to let anyone meet his baby. So that would make it VERY easy for Simon to revoke Price’s privileges, albeit not for super long but long enough for Price to regret his whole life.)
- “Ghost has had sex?!” Was Gaz’s first response. (Price uttered a quiet, “That’s what I said.”) And he pushes his beer away, looking at Price while Price looks straight ahead. “He has a baby.”
- “Holy shite.” Soap would then say, tossing the phone onto the bar. “Can we meet her?”
- “It took me almost ten months to meet her myself, I doubt you two will ever.” Price answered, Gaz just sits back in his chair and goes, “Ghost has had sex.” And Soap goes, “Ghost has a baby.”
- When Soap and Gaz arrive back on base, practically dragging a very piss drunk Price while being piss drunk themselves, Ghost meets them. Gaz and Soap both stare at him and Ghost says, “What happened?”
- “You had sex.” “You have a baby.” Ghost looks at Price. Price looks at Ghost. Ghost knows he did it. He doesn’t say a word before he takes Price from the two bumbling idiots and says, “Go to bed.” (Ghost chews Price out the next morning. Price knows he deserves it and does not say one word.)
- Gaz follows Ghost around the next day, asking questions about his daughter out of earshot of others. (“I don’t know what you’re on about, Sergeant. Don’t you have paperwork to do?”) Gaz grumbles when he finally gives up, saying that the video probably wasn’t real and just Price messing with them.
- Soap is a lot more annoying about it. Just like Gaz and Price, he only asks questions when no one is around. (in fear of his life but he would never admit that.) “How old is she?” “Babies are so precious. My sister has one. I love my niece.” “Does she like ducks? My niece likes ducks.”
- Ghost would give him a look of “Shut the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up.” Soap doesn’t care. “Babies are so fun!”
- It would take just one day on patrol back at their base in England for Soap to trail Ghost home and see the girl for himself. She kisses his mask and hugs him tightly, he pats her back and heads into a house, seeing a very slim glimpse of a beautiful woman. (He reports back to Price and Gaz, freaking out. “HE HAS A WOMAN IN HIS HOUSE.” and Price is like, “Uh, yes… He has a nanny.”) (Gaz is still very much bewildered that Ghost, the untouchable man, has had sex so he does not comment on a woman being in his house.)
- A year later, after both Gaz and Soap have stopped pestering Ghost about Winnie, on her fifth birthday, unbeknownst to Gaz and Soap, Price invites them to the ‘party’. Soap immediately recognizes the building as Simon’s house when he, Gaz, and Price drive towards it. “You tricked us!” “I did.” “We don’t have presents!” “Yes, you do.” Price shoves small bags into their hands.
- Simon opens the door and actually lets them in. Gaz and Soap are absolutely dumbfounded when they enter the house. (Of course it’s in almost the middle of nowhere because he a paranoid man.)
- And here comes Winnie - dressed in pink with the green bear Price got her in her hands. “Uncle John!” She screams, and attacks his leg, clinging to it while Price just laughs. He walks around and chats with Ghost while Soap and Gaz just stand and watch the little girl.
- She would detach herself from Price’s leg before climbing onto the couch next to Gaz and smacking her hands onto his cheek and saying, “Friend.” Gaz would immediately burst into tears and she would hug him around his neck, Gaz would stand and carry her towards Ghost. (He’d be silently pointing at her to Price and mouthing, “Look!” He’s in absolute shambles. He thought that the Lieutenant’s daughter would be conditioned to not like strangers.)
- Winnie holds onto Gaz for dear life and does not like Soap at first. As soon as Soap was near, she would reach for Ghost. He would take her from Gaz without a word and let her squeeze her arms around his neck. (Soap’s face drops but Price pats his arms. “Don’t worry, she didn’t necessarily like me in the beginning either.” Soap feels better then.)
- Ghost would thank them all for coming to visit after they eat, he herded them towards the door and Soap goes, “Where’s the missus?”
- Ghost opened the door, gesturing for them to leave. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” And ‘slams’ the door in their faces. (Price bursts out laughing and Gaz is still all smiles. Soap is defeated.)
- And all is normal when they return to base the next day, except when Ghost is sat beside Soap. He fishes a light pink paper out of his vest pocket, hands it to him. Soap opens it and sees a drawing of an obviously mohawked stick figure and a smaller stick figure wearing pink. And in big, childish letters, Soap was written and pointed towards the mohawked one, and Winnie pointed to the smaller one. He almost cried. (Ghost then pulled out his phone, and opened his photos. “Here’s my girls.” He then showed a picture of you, holding a ten month old Winnie. (Ghost would be lying if he said that wasn’t when he fell in love with you.) “Don’t ever ask again.” “Sir yes sir.”)
———
Copyright © 2022 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.
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toxicanonymity · 1 year
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Can I request a fic where Reader’s parents were recently killed and she has to look after her younger siblings. She needs to find a way to earn money so she is forced to become a prostitute/sex worker. Only thing is she is a virgin. And guess who takes her virginity as part of the job? (Joel!). Not sure how you can make it dark, but that’s up to you!
Lmao @ "not sure how you can make it dark," I think that's dark enough. / master list
Virgin sex worker
800 words | softdark!Joel x fem!reader |
NSFW 18+ unsafe PIV sex, blow job, fingering, idk if sex work makes it dubcon, but I didn't make her forced into it. Unedited. Post-outbreak.
"Call me Joel," the john says.
"It's my first time," you say.
"No different from doin' it with a boyfriend," Joel says as he unzips his pants.
"I've never. . . It's my first time, ever."
He looks stunned but not put off. "Why are you doin' this?"
"It's really none of your business, I'm not gonna justify myself to you."
"Why me then? Lotta men would pay top dollar for a virgin."
"You're a regular, right? The other girls said you'd be good for my first time. Nice and gentle?"
"Whew, that ain't me, baby. Must be their sick idea of hazing the new girl. Must want me to break ya in real good."
Your face goes cold and your eyes prickle with tears.
"Don't worry baby, I can try my best . . . c’mere, let’s see what we’re workin’ with.” He pats the bed. “Bend over for me.” He takes off his jeans.
You bend over with your ass in the air. He lifts up your skirt and pulls down your panties. "Mmm now that's a nice lookin' pussy."
He strokes it but you aren’t wet. He puts his hands on your waist then asks “ok if I move you around and shit?”
“Um, yeah,” you say.
He somewhat roughly throws you on your back. “Was that okay?” he asks as if he’s finding out how rough he can be.
“Yeah,” you say.
“I’m gonna make it so it feels better for you, k?” He takes your panties all the way off then puts his head between your legs. His tongue on your clit turns you on right away. He kisses, licks, and sucks at your pussy, always returning to your clit. You moan in pleasure, then he sticks a finger in.
“Good girl, now we’re in business.” He sticks another finger in. “Nobody ever been in here?”
“No, only toys.” His eyebrows shoot up, “Well good, that means you prolly won’t bleed too much.
He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, then adds a third. It’s quite a stretch, but it still feels pretty good.
“Alright we’re all warmed up, ready to go,” Joel says, palming himself over his boxers. “You wanna give it a kiss first, get to know it?”
You sit up, then bend over again so your head is at dick-level with him standing next to the old, dirty bed. His hard cock intimidates you but also sends a pang of arousal between your legs. You wrap your hand around it and he sighs. You put your lips around the head and he says “Yeah, attagirl.” When you begin to suck, he gives a low whistle. “Damn, you suck a good cock.”
You’ve done your research.
“Alright now.” You take your head off his cock and wait for his instructions. He sits on the bed with his back against the headboard. “How bout you just come on up here.” He pats his lap. “Take it how you want it, and I’ll try not to interfere.”
You slowly straddle him and hover over his cock. He holds it for you in one hand and watches you hungrily. He fingers you again with his free hand, then urges you closer, pulling you by your ass. He aligns his tip at your entrance, then you slowly sink onto it. In a way, it feels amazing, but It’s a major stretch and also hurts. You wince. He breathes heavily, trying to control himself.
“Ok if I help?” he asks and you nod. His hands come to your hips and gently press down. You gasp and your face screws up.
“Sometimes ya gotta rip the bandaid off. want me to do that for ya, baby?”
You’re nervous but you don’t think you can go any further without more help.
“Yeah,” you say, and nod.
“Attagirl,” he says. His large hands pull you down hard on his cock and he grunts loudly. You gasp at the intrusion. It feels like he’s inhabiting most of your body. He thrusts up into you and you gasp again. It hurts, but not in a very bad way.
Then, he sits more upright and puts you on your back. He pulls out most of the way, then slams his cock into you and you both grunt as the force pushes you down the bed. He begins to really fuck you. “Tell me if it hurts,” he says and you nod. His face darkens, then he pounds into you repeatedly. It hurts, but not bad enough to say it. The feeling of being filled by him outweighs the pain.
After a few minutes, he says he’s about to come. “Wanna see how it tastes?”
“Yeah,” you say. He straddles you and walks on his knees up to your armpits, leans forward, and you lift your neck to accept him into your mouth. Then he groans and pulses into your mouth.
-
This was a quick one from the req cellar. Thanks for reading!
-
All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime  @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose 
(I haven't updated my tag lists yet for the most recent adds)
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princessbrunette · 2 months
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walk w me here .. thinkin ab a pretty little newcomer workin at a little beach bar for the summer to save up a bit of money while she's visiting, ends up catchin the eye of an older!john b until suddenly he's sittin in that dingy bar every night walkin the little thing to her car but just to be safe!!! he's totally not thinkin ab flippin uniform skirt up n bendin her over the hood of her car - 🍓
yupyupyypyup omg.
₊🍵˚ʚ 🍥₊˚🍡°˖ 🤍。˚
he’s usually just there to meet up with his friends to talk, sometimes they’re gathered around beers and an old map and u just don’t really question it !! all you care about it how sexy he is n how polite he is to the workers which is such a turn on !! always flashing you that warm charming smile, his eyes lingering on you a little too long, with that softness in his big brown eyes that just makes him look sm younger than his age at times !
when he checks out your ass his brows jump up with a little smirk, walking you to your car after your shift, chatting with you about fairly innocent stuff whilst he’s thinking of how pretty you’d look bent over your car for him !! he sweaaars he’s not a creep, always convincing himself and his friends who notice — you’re just a sweet young girl, the type of girl he definitely would have gone for when he was your age, but regardless he’s just looking out for you !!
buuuut he’s definitely not turning you down if you come begging him for some dick bc the boys your age just don’t know how to fuck :( what can he say !! your generation of girls listen to far too much lana del rey and all seem to have daddy issues, it’s not his fault that it works in his favour!
and as discussed, his dick is huge. always has been. with age it’s got that heaviness to it that just feels so good on your tongue or inside you , big balls softly slapping against you when he drives into you, strong tanned hands holding you down against his mattress whilst he checks in on you. “you okay? yeah? havin’ fun? that feel nice for you sweetheart?” sighhhhh … his friends are totally gonna smack him for this !! but john b always made impulsive n silly decisions when it came to love <3
₊🍵˚ʚ 🍥₊˚🍡°˖ 🤍。˚
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fraserbraw · 4 months
Text
home again, to his love.
john mactavish x f!reader
nsfw, MDNI, chubby reader, oral fem receiving, suggested p in v, johnny being so obsessed with his pretty little plush wife
john & johnny used
1.3k words
nsfw below cut <3
his footsteps sounded softly against the dirt pathway leading to your house, his heart beating from out of his chest.
john’s throat works at the sight of you in the distance, eyes drinking up your figure as if he was the desert and you were the ocean.
“‘m home,” he rasps out. you had been expecting him next week. “forgot t’ call.”
your breath leaves your lungs as his voice fills her your, your mind immediately jumping from the bread you were baking to him.
you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. your husband, your johnny, came home to you.
whispered prayers and thanks in gaelic left your lips as you held him close, thankful to the lord for bringing him home to you once more.
john holds you, eyes closed as he breathes in the scent of you. the smell of you brings a calmness to the turbulent sea of emotions and stress that he holds inside. “i’m home,” he whispers back—he’s back, back with you again, where he knows he belongs.
warmth fills his eyes and heart as feelings of love overflow him on this happy night, his head tilting down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. “i missed you,” he says, “too much.”
you press kisses to his neck and jaw and face, finally crashing against his lips. you hold him close to your body as you absorb all of him.
“lord i hate when you go for so long.”
“i hate leavein’. it just ain’t a choice when yer in me sorta line o’ work.” his hand moves up your back, fingers gently stroking through you hair.
“how’s me bonnie been doin’ whilst i been gone?” he asks, that familiar scottish lilt in his words.
“i hope y’ ain’t workin’ yerself too hard here. i seen how thin yer gettin’ in the shoulders. i’ll have ta fix tha’.”
that accent always made you melt. you clung to him as if he was your life force, because in a way, he was. you needed each other, almost more than you needed air.
“i’ve been alright. cooking, mostly. isn’t the same when you’re not here to eat it.”
he hums and lets his hands find your shoulders, massaging right between them as you lean against him. he presses a kiss to the crown of your head before speaking.
“y’ got any leftover, love? m’ starved.”
you let out a soft groan as he massaged the soft tissue of your neck, your head falling against his chest.
you always smelled like a bakery. you owned one, so it made sense, but herbs and flour and warmth seemed to seep from you like the air you breathed.
“i’ll make some more for you. no one i’d rather cook for.”
john’s smile is like the sun cresting the horizon, breaking through clouds of stress and worry. he holds you close in the early morning light, your breaths slowing in that cozy moment that feels like hours.
“aye, love,” he rumbles, “i’ll eat all y’ make for me.” he kisses the top of your head, pulling you in even closer. “what else have you been up to? did ya finally watch that old western i told ya bout?”
you nuzzle into him. you felt like you could never get close enough. if you could crawl inside of him, you would in a heartbeat.
“mhm. watched it last night. i liked it.” you left out the fact that you had watched it every night since he left, clinging onto any part of him that you could in his absence. you knew the movie by heart.
with your face buried against him, john’s hands roam about underneath your shirt, tracing along your skin as he begins to kiss down your neck and move lower.
“tell me, darlin’, what else you been doin’ with yerself?” he asks, his mouth reaching your shoulder and nibbling on your collarbone. “have ya been usin’ the time wisely, hm?”
your eyes fluttered closed, your mouth slightly agape as he kissed all over you neck and collar, as his hands wandered under your shirt and teased just where he knew you would fold.
“mhm.. thinking about you a lot.”
that was all you could say. that was all you needed to say. you knew he would get the message. most nights, you would try to work yourself to an orgasm, wearing something of his. it never worked. not when it wasn’t him.
“ahh, love,” he groans against your skin, “y’ been missin’ me, hm?”
his hands go for the shirt you wear, working to pull it over your head.
his face is buried in your necks and shoulders, hot breath falling against the sensitive skin as his hands run along your skin; he couldn’t believe he had been away for so long.
“y’ been touchin’ yerself for me?” he asks, his words like smooth whisky.
soft whimpers escaped you as he pulled your shirt off, revealing your bare chest. it was a rare occasion when you wore something under your shirts or sweaters, so he knew he would be greeted with the sight of your exposed breasts.
you weren’t a skinny woman, not by any means. you were plush and soft and curvy, just how he loved you. your voice was soft and sweet as you answered him.
“m-mhm.. not the same when it’s not you..”
john’s smile stretches wide; he knows he’s going to be enjoying this.
he moves to his knees, pushing your skirt up over your hips and slotting himself between your legs. he looks up at you through his eyelashes, nosing against your clothed cunny.
you let out a soft gasp as he drops to his knees and lean more against the wall he had you pinned to. you could already feel the wetness of your own arousal begin to soak into the cotton.
“johnny..” you whispered, hands holding up your skirt.
“hmm?” he hummed, pressing kisses to your cunt. his arms wrapped around the backside of your thighs and his fingers played with the soft plush of your hips.
“somethin’ the matter, bonnie?”
you bit your lip and gazed down at him. your eyes closed and you leaned your head back as he licked a stripe up the cotton, the roughness of his stubble scratching so fucking good against your thighs.
his fingers slipped into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down and off of your legs. “told ye i was starved, didn’t i?” he taunted, pressing an unusually soft kiss to the outside of your excited and very much deprived pussy.
you didn’t even think to respond as he lapped at your cunt like a man starved. he ate you like it was his last meal on earth, lapping up anything that he possibly could.
mewls and moans left your lips as he devoured you, lapping at your entrance before moving to your clit. he ran the flat of his tongue over the bundle of nerves and swirled around it. it sent shivers down your spine and trembles through your thighs.
you had to fight off the urge to clamp your thighs around his head. your hand found his hair and tugged, louder and louder moans coming from you.
“f-fuck, johnny, i’m close-“ you moaned, breathy and full of pleasure. he only tightened his grip around your thighs.
“cum for me, bonnie. let me taste you.”
his voice sent vibrations through your cunt and spiraled you over the edge, cumming all over his face. he hummed happily and drank up all that your blessed body gave him.
of course, he didn’t stop there. no, he kept going, eating your pussy and groaning at the taste until you physically pulled him off with a “t-too much, johnny, fuck.”
he let you regain your balance for a second before standing back up and pulling you into his arms. he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and flashed that devilish smile at you.
“le’ me show ye how much i missed ye in the bedroom, aye?”
(a/n: thank you all for all the support <333 i’ll do a m!reader for the next post, feel free to suggest any and all ideas)
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