#someone hangs their laundry by the trash cans??

[onyourhyuck]

Dirty Laundry. | H.RJ

— Prologue: “Did you put your dirty laundry into my laundry pile by any chance?”

— Summary: Where your germaphobic clean freak roommate Renjun finds your panties in his laundry pile one day.

— Genre: Smut smut smut. Sex on top of the washing machine(?) dormitory roommates. Sex in like almost public setting. Exhibitism. Dom!renjun. Rough sex (kinda). Back scratching. Cum-play. Bigdick!Renjun agenda. Angry sex. Renjun’s a neat freak. Clit overstimulation. Unprotected sex but pulls out to cum on Y/n’s face.

— Notes: Feeding the injeolmis today.

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The dormitory you have been staying in for the past year and a half was a sharing compound building between other university students. Therefore everything was being shared other than your own bedroom. The kitchen was a large open space with a tv too so it was almost like an open space between two rooms. The bathroom was a shared area, it’s rather small and private. If anyone wants the toilet they have to fight for it to get in first if you want to use it so it’s a bit of a hazard war out there.

Moreover one more thing you and your roommates share and have to do was your own laundry in the downstairs room. It was out of your dormitory almost. In a way this room was very secular and just hollow. It has a bunch of washing machines and a long table in the middle to separate your clothes from the basket. Bunch of hanging pegs and a long string hung across a wall to the other where you can hang your clothes to dry too.

The dorm wasn’t so bad. At least you thought it wasn’t until you started to see the revealing signs of your roommates and their flaws that you start to notice about them after living for so long together. It’s natural to get nitpicky and annoyed with them. You try to mostly be civil.

But you know someone who doesn’t try to be civil at all even if it was a small or big deal. That someone is one of your many roommates.

Huang Renjun. He was a transfer student from China who got accepted into your university. You didn’t speak to him much for the next three years until he put up a sign that he needs roommates so they can split the bill together. He said he doesn’t care how many there are. As long as they split the bill and make it more affordable for him and the others. You were the first one to reach out.

That is how you and Renjun met. You like to think you’re not so different but that’s a little bit of a lie considering he is quite the opposite from you. You’re laid back and you prefer to not confront anyone even if it was a huge problem that should be spoke about. Renjun on the other hand is slightly less bothered about how the other person feels. He can come off as a bit nagging. He’s also a massive clean freak which makes everyone in the house a bit tense.

He doesn’t like how his roommates aren’t as clean as he thought they were going to be originally. Especially you.

Oh how wrong he was about you. You’re probably the messiest girl he’s ever encountered and Renjun was slightly shocked at first. When the beginning started you tried to hide how disoriented and disorganised you are and can be. So he didn’t quite catch on until later on few months have passed now and he came back to your room completely trashed. It genuinely looks like you haven’t cleaned it in like a century; it sounds exaggerated and dramatic but it is not. That’s how Renjun envisioned a room to be so dirty it wasn’t cleaned out in a century. When he saw your room you thought he would faint or something.

But that was months ago. Renjun managed to convince you to let him clean your room out and it took a few desperate ‘please’ tries to get you to say yes to him.

He cannot stand dirtiness. He cannot stand anyone’s life being that way so he would rather clean it out for them just so he could sleep peacefully tonight.

The boy even made out certainly laundry schedules for the roommates. He said only two people each day can wash their clothes on a certain day because then the clothes would get messy together and it would be a hectic week of organising clothes on which one is theirs. They agreed because it sounds like a smart plan actually. Renjun’s always a great thinker when it comes to chores and house work.

Today was yours and Renjun’s day to wash your clothes. You’re not surprised because when you came down you saw Renjun already putting the dark clothes on one side and the light clothes on the other side now. You wish you could say he did surprise you at all but it didn’t.

“Good you’re here.” Renjun said now as he noticed you coming inside the downstairs washing area. You let out a soft hum. “I didn’t forget this time.” You smirk sheepishly and tease him now a little. Last week you missed your washing day and Renjun had to lecture you now.

He said your clothes would smell out the entire house and honestly it lead to a slight mishapping argument with him. Although you quickly made up and said you’re going to do it on his day with him to make Renjun feel better.

Renjun rolls his eyes as he noticed you’re talking about last week incident and so he just didn’t say anything and continues to do his laundry by separating them. You start to run your hands through your clothes doing the same thing; putting the dark to one side and the lighter clothes to the other side. There was a momentarily silence as you both did this and you’re clearly focused on doing this before you can start doing another thing.

As you’re too busy with your own clothes, Renjun lifts his large white tee shirt putting it to the other side with the light clothes similar to the colour white too. He then scrunched his eyebrows when he saw a silky and lace fabric between his clothes. Renjun couldn’t tell what this was at first. He doesn’t own anything laced. His first expression went through all the grief stages. Renjun lifts it up with the prickle of his fingertips in the air. It was white lace panties and they are definitely yours because you’re the only girl in the dorm house.

Renjun’s eyebrows fell flat as he looks with slight discomfort. He wasn’t even sure if they’re clean or not clean. It didn’t even matter if they were clean because Renjun never touched another one’s underwear before and he didn’t once felt so embarrassed and confused until he is now.

How did they even get there?

He felt slightly perverted too. It’s not like he wanted to look at them. They happened to be in his pile of laundry and now he has to get your attention and give you your panties back.

He’s going to make you think the wrong idea too. He hates this. Renjun swears he’s going to have a word with you.

He walks over to you now with the panties in his hands. You turn around back so you could face Renjun. You wondered what he wanted from you and that is when he saw your round eyes resemble a ball of fire now when you were met with your panties.

Renjun clears his throat as he saw your cheeks heat up and he hates to admit it. You being embarrassed over this was making him even more uncomfortable and his heart was racing because of you.

You point at them. “What are you doing with my panties?” You exclaim now shocked.

“Did you put your dirty laundry into my laundry pile by any chance?” Renjun snaps slightly as he pushed the panties back into your hand. He feels very much embarrassed as much as you are right now.

You look at the panties he dives into your hand, your head turns back to Renjun. “I don’t remember mixing our laundry together, ever.” You now said back crossing your arms against your chest suspiciously at Renjun.

You’re now assuming he stole them. But Renjun would never ever do such a thing essentially because it involved touching another person’s clothes they wear. He’s too much of a neat freak to be able to do that. So now you’re just thinking he’s either playing it cooly off now or you probably were clumsy enough to drop your panties in his laundry pile last week.

Renjun scowls at your interrogation right now. What is this? Police detective that you’re playing at? It’s obviously clear you’re the problem here right now.

He slants his empty laundry basket now away on the side and put on the black clothes pile into the first washing machine while he puts the lighter clothes in the second washing machine to start washing them. “So you’re now saying it’s me who would steal your panties? Please Y/n who do you think I am.” Renjun said clearly offended you’d think of him such a way. You roll your eyes. “I seen you checking up my shorts before, don’t act so innocent.”

Your sudden words calling him out on his behaviour that he was so sure you weren’t in knowledge about made him stunned in front of you. He turns to you with his eyes slightly avoiding eye contact now and he cleared his voice.

It’s clear he tries to be as calm and composed. Renjun puts on an unbothered look on his face. “You must’ve imagined that, Y/n. Not everyone wants to fuck you just because you’re good looking.”

He mocks you slightly so he can make this a little more believable but you didn’t seem to fall for it especially after how he’s avoiding your gaze. You scoff now putting in your laundry in the other free two washing machines. The dark and light separate. You close the washing machine door and put in the time to start it.

“I didn’t say you wanted to fuck me though?” You smirk out now catching him say that.

“Renjun you’re a very bad liar.” You said with slight sarcasm now. You can’t believe he’s trying to just slide past this now.

Renjun frowns coming up behind your back now his hands on the sides of your body and when you turn around you’re very close to him. Still there’s slight distance between the both of you. But now his hands are on the sides of your washing machine. You look up at him raising your eyebrows in surprise. You weren’t expecting him to come forward like this but he did to make a proven point.

He wants to prove to you that he really didn’t stare at your ass that time and checked it out. When he did actually but he was never going to admit that to you or anyone else. It was a mistake as well. Renjun couldn’t help himself. It’s like his eyes were forced to look at you in that moment.

He swore he would never do something like that again however, it’s kind of ironic now, Renjun was gazing you down on your face. “If I’m such a bad liar then look me in the eyes and listen to me.” He said to you and you look at his eyes. They were beautiful. They remind you of a crescent moon.

You’re staring at his eyes now and he repeats firmly as if he was now saying it to convince himself too. “I did not check your ass out that time.”

Your face leans closer and your breath and voice became lower and deeper now which makes Renjun’s skin cover with goosebumps. He hates that you’re very much an attractive young woman. It’s so much more unfair because Renjun can’t seem to handle the closeness between you and now that you only leaned more close towards him — it makes Renjun unsteady and his voice felt like a hitching spike in his throat that couldn’t even be moved.

Your eyes tell him to not lie to you. It’s like you’re telling him to just admit it and move on knowing you were not buying it. No matter how much he tried to convince you it’s not going to work on you and what you saw. You’re pretty much convinced already by your own belief.

“Did you take my panties?” You now ask him trying to see if he actually did or not.

Renjun groans as you now asked him again. He told you that it couldn’t be him and that it’s probably your silly fault because you’re the most non-organised roommate he has. And that says a lot knowing he has Mark Lee living with him too. “I didn’t take your damn panties Y/n.”

You scoff. “Well what did they do in your pile then?” Renjun told you with his eyes, like a warning threat that if you keep on trying to leer him into your interrogations he would do something to shut you up.

Renjun has enough when you were about to speak again and say something that could really set him off the edge and so he grabs your face. The hands on the side of your face pushed you forward where your lips crash against his own mouth now. He kissed you a bit harshly, to make a proven point to shut you up. It did work very much because this has shocked you as much as you hate to admit it too; your roommate was a great kisser. You let out a soft groan against the kiss when Renjun switched your positions pushing your body up against the washing machine now that you are using. He didn’t break the kiss at all and so your lips were now in a fiery state of making out on top of a washing machine. He pushed and deepens the kiss when he told his head to go in a tilting motion. It made you sighing in a deep grasp.

You looked irresistible so he couldn’t help himself at all. Renjun dislikes it when he cannot control himself around you. You made everything so difficult. Maybe because you are a very difficult person to be around with, to live with all this time, but without you Renjun’s life would be very dull that’s for sure. You felt your body go into a frenzy lockdown now. Your hands were on the sides of the machine until you attach them on Renjun’s neck pulling him slightly closer so he was pressed between your legs now. Your tongue pushed out of Renjun’s mouth causing a long string of saliva connecting your two red mouths. It was a hot sight to see Renjun so riled up and breathing heavily too.

You lean your head on the side when Renjun’s eyes couldn’t leave your shirt that you’re wearing. He felt annoyed that you’re fully clothed for once. He wished you were slightly more revealing right now. So his hands made it obvious now that he stripped your shirt off and you could feel the cold air coming from the room hitting your warm body.

Renjun groans against your neck as his rough grazing mouth explodes around your soft skin. It felt like an explosion when he’s kissing you so harshly like he was almost punishing you for pushing him off the edge by not believing him.

You squirm in the position he has you in. The way his weight was pressing down on your body it very much leaves you anticipating what’s to happen next. Renjun saw you whining and squirming now because of his mouth attacking your neck like it was nothing. He didn’t say anything to you but let’s a cruel smirk shown.

Your evidence was proven right. Renjun was here to simply pushing you a little now. You couldn’t do anything about it and you didn’t want to. You enjoyed seeing Renjun look so pissed off. All this built up anger in Renjun it was a rare sight but somehow you managed to get it out of him. You love it. You get to see his eyebrows arch down at you there was not a single happiness in those eyebrows he’s doing with them. You didn’t care if he’s going to tear you apart as much as he can. You didn’t care as long as you get to see that burning rage behind his eyes that you caused him to have.

It’s like you’re asking for it.

The fingers brush along your zipper to your jeans and he slips it down along with your jeans off your ankles it leaves you with your panties now. Renjun’s hand cups your sex now and this ring finger brushed to your clit clothed behind your soft fabric panties. You let out a pleasant smile and a groan now that he touched you somewhere you could react to in a good moment.

He scowls when you’re looking like you enjoy this situation. You’re not meant to be enjoying this but he cannot help but get annoyed even more that you’re practically begging for him to give you what you want now. “You’re not meant to be enjoying this, Y/n,” You heard him say to you.

He pulls his hands away from your area between the legs and now you’re left stranded. You let out a whine. “Do you have to be upset at me?” You groan. “Did you or did you not steal my panties…” You now ask with a little smirk behind your frustration on the face.

Renjun raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re asking me again?” He lets out a scoff now that your asking him again with your suspicions and so the hands at his belt unbuckled it taking off the trousers down the waist. He lets his jeans fall to the ground now and he looks at you with a dark warning gaze that said you shouldn’t ask him such a question again. “I told you three times already that I didn’t. So why bother repeating it?” He now said clearly unbothered by replying to you once more.

You feel your panties taken off and you couldn’t help but position your hands behind as he now slams himself in very subtle. Your mouth drops shaped in a little wide open posture as you creep in your moans. You swallow the harsh air and you feel his length taking a good place in your womb making it it’s home. You hate to think about your roommate this way but you always wondered how big he was and now your answer was given.

“God I can’t believe I’m about to fuck you without a condom…” Renjun closed his eyes reassuring himself that you must be clean. At least he hopes so. You furrow your eyebrows now at him, reassuring him slowly.

“I’m clean Renjun. God. You and your neat obsession—“ Your voice was cut off.

“Just shut up and take it.” He vows now telling you to be quiet. He doesn’t want to hear another word of complaint from you.

He was freaking huge and thick. You couldn’t really imagine him being inside you now but he was very slowly earning a spot and living inside your walls. Each stroke was meant with the anger inside him and that made you fall deeper in the pleasure. The depths of his rage and annoyance you put him through not just today.

No. It wasn’t just today’s anger you’re giving him. It’ was all the anger you made him feel all these months living with you for so long. The pettiness you give. The messiness you make wherever you go. Renjun just feels his head remembering all the things he holds against you that you weren’t even aware that he held against.

The time you left your dirty dinner plate lying somewhere. You didn’t even bother to clean it? It pissed off Renjun. That was a month ago. He didn’t mention anything because he cleaned it for you. Obviously you wouldn’t clean it because if he told you to do it you’d reply with ‘Okay!’ And then forget again. He sometimes wonders if he’s your servant or if you’re just trying to get out of doing your chores.

He groans now that he slams himself even deeper. The thrusts became cruel and aggressive. You hung your desperate expression against your palm. Your one arm was positioned behind on the washing machine so when you move your hips against the cruel countering and dangerous thrusts you can’t help but bury your moan in your palm hoping it doesn’t explode out like a combustion. Your droopy eyes were like a comet to Renjun.

They fell down on earth for him when he was deeply thrusting and pushing in and out of your direction to your pussy. His dick made you feel a lot more than just pleasure. They made you associate yourself with how much you trouble Renjun and you can’t help but feel like your pressure was going haywire.

He angrily leans forward now capturing your mouth with his. He kissed you hungrily while he keeps thrusting in and out of you way more quicker now than before and it caused you to break the kiss with your panting voice.

“F-fuck… Renjun…” You weren’t supposed to be enjoying this but your insides were squeezing so tight you feel your stomach sucking in. He was kneading inside you like you’re a folding bread that he was making from the compounds.

You’re like a toy that was broken up into pieces by Renjun and then fixed up brand new. It felt like this with his enlarge hands on your hips pushing you forward now even more as you’re on top of the washing machine spread like a statue just for him, just for Renjun.

It was a public setting too which was completely out of your idea until now. Renjun didn’t seem to care too much. He was too focused on your beautiful face looking so fucked out when he’s ramming inside you non-stop in your insides and with each squeeze you’re milking him to his climax.

He wasn’t being the kindest to you. As much as this was very intimate with him and he held your body close so he could devour your insides like the next Hanging Babylon. When Renjun wanted to torture you some more he rushed his free hand over your clit and rubbed it in a flicking motion with all his fingers as he keeps thrusting into you at the same time; Renjun’s multitasking to have you coming undone. It’s like punishment for you.

You moan helplessly out now. Your moans were coming off as a desperate wail.

Punishment for being a nightmare to live with. But as much as you’re a nightmare and a complete health hazard to share a home with. He was thankful for you in some ways. You’re not thoughtful for other’s space. You’re clingy when you’re bored. You break things. You’re clumsy. You are the messiest person on earth. Yet he wouldn’t swap you for someone else even if it meant the world was ending.

Maybe he grew attached to you. Maybe he was feeling something for you nowadays.

Your hands were scratching underneath his shirt that he has on, running down the smooth soft and olive-like back he has. Renjun let’s out sweet groans close to your ears as you did this action. He seem to be in heaven when your fingers crossed his skin. It felt like magic you’re doing to him.

“I’m so close.” You bite your bottom lip as your head pressed against his chest when Renjun came closer now and starts to look you in the eyes as you’re standing on the very tip of the cliff now.

He stood with you there because he, himself, was very close now to his own climax and Renjun frowns when each thrust brought him closer. “I’m going to pull out.” He warns and when he did suddenly pull out Renjun made sure to get you your orgasm. He can be nice you see?

He brushed his fingers inside your pulsing walls and he managed to finger you to your nearest orgasm. He loves seeing you squirm against his hands now because it shows how good he’s making you feel. Renjun feels almost proud when he saw your orgasm and he feels it reaching his fingers.

It was a bit messy for his liking but maybe he likes seeing you become a mess when it’s him doing it to you. Only a little.

You slowly regain your concentration and you slide off the washing machine as you go on your knees now. You suddenly wrap your hands around his hard twitching cock that’s begging to have its own climax now and you’re here to delivery that.

Renjun’s eyes darken as he saw you on your knees looking so pretty with your trembling legs because you just had a massive orgasm; however it’s not fair that you’re the one orgasming and he couldn’t. You should return the favour. Your hands stroke his cock up and down and it didn’t take long to have Renjun groaning.

You feel his member twitch in your hand and then the liquid came out all over your mouth and face. You let it drip down a little and you didn’t mind it. You prefer it messy anyways. You feel the warmth emitting on your skin and you take a lick and wipe yourself once he was done with a silent groan as you pushed him to his orgasm.

To you he looks like the most dreamy guy. He shut his eyes for a little before regaining his sight back and he pulls away to take a deep breath.

You move your sinewy back to the nearest wall and slowly start to pull your panties up and your jeans. You seen Renjun doing the same as he pulls his trousers up to his waist now and you can’t help but have a smirk.

“I remembered now.” You exclaim with your mischievous eyes. He looks at you raising an eyebrow wondering what did you remember?

“What is it?” Renjun said with a confused expression.

You smirk. “I dropped my panties in your laundry pile when I was walking back to my room after laundry.” You announced with a little laugh.

You guess you really are a messy roommate. And Renjun was right.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! Reblog this Fic and Follow me for more updates it helps a girl out. <3

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[lookingformoondrop]

NAJDNWKKRKW U WRITE FOR THE COFFIN OF ANDY AND LEYLEY?

You're the first person I see writing to themmm I'm so happy. Can I ask Something with leyley ? If not, No problem, I accept anything

Ashley Graves (Leyley) x Reader

TW: Everyone has a foul mouth and Ashley is a little shit (oh, really?), mentions of the devil's tango (sex, gasp!), Ashley is manipulative (remember kids, never stay with someone if they act like this during arguments, even if they're goth mommies).

♥︎ I'm not sure if the people crave X Reader or just headcannons with the Graves siblings, so if this isn't what you had in mind, you're always welcome to shoot me another ask. I'm so sorry this took so long to write ;-; Thank you for your patience!<3 ♥︎

♡1,287 WORDS♡

If you ever asked about 15-year-old Ashley Graves, you'd be told one of these three things;

"She's a little psycho. I'm pretty sure she'd choke out a teacher if they looked at her brother wrong."

"She's always the odd one out. If only she was nice like her brother, she wouldn't be such a lonely freak."

"Pretty like the devil is sly."

These comments always alluded you. Ashley was by far the prettiest girl in class, and even if she was a bit curt to the teachers, she had these blossoming eyes and rich smile whenever she walked by.

One day, after watching the girls mock Ashley for the second time that day, you decided to walk up to Ashley.

Ashley's gaze out of the window quickly turned towards you as you sat down on the other side of her desk. She slowly eyed you up and down.

"Uh, I'm Y/N," you offered weakly.

"Is this about my brother?" Ashely held her face in her hand with a bored stare. "Because if this is about my brother, know that he's already called for..."

You quickly shook your head, "Don't take any offense, but I don't really care about who your brother is...I'm more interested in you."

Ashely looked startled by this statement. A small blush dusting her cheeks. She had spent a lot of time making quitters and hussies run from her marshmallow-spine brother who didn't know any better, and if she learned anything it was that they would say and do whatever it took to get closer to him.

Ashley scoffed and looked out the window again, "Yeah, right, you're probably just saying that so that I'll let you meet him."

You sighed and laid your head in your arms,

"I want to play with you... not your dumb brother."

Ashley gave you a quick glance. She chewed her bottom lip as she thought about it.

"Fine. But if I catch you trying to hang out with my brother, I'm going to punish you!"

You shrugged off that last part and nodded passionately.

Ashley didn't know what it was about you that made her laugh easily, and force the malice out of her body, but it pissed her off.

Day after day, you'd run after her with some sort of treat, present, or a friendly smile that made her day.

One day, you had come to school with a surprise;

"Jesus christ Ashley, did you fish that out of the dumpster?" Andrew walked into the laundry room and saw Ashley standing in front of the washing machine with a very deformed and crusted teddy bear in her hands.

"Y/N gave em' to me," Ashley pulled her hand away, a sticky substance connecting her hand to the deformed bears head.

Andrew was taken aback and quickly snatched the bear from Ashley's hands with a simple (grossed out) finger.

"Fucking gross Ashely! Why the fuck would she give that to you?!" He made a move towards the trash bags in the shelve, but Ashley took back the teddy bear before he could do anything.

"Don't snatch things from other people's hands, you jackass!" She held the bear close to her chest despite shivering from the unknown wetness the bear had.

Andrew visibly cringed and searched Ashley's face for some sort of explanation.

"Y/N had won this at a carnival she went to over the weekend and thought I'd like it," Ashley dangled the bear from paw to paw.

"Well if it came from a carnival then why does it look like it was gangbanged-"

"I'm getting to it!" She sighed with annoyance.

"I had thought it was some stupid ploy to get to you, so I might have...thrown it down a sewer." She shrugged that last part like it was naturally the most obvious reaction to a gift.

"While it was down there, I think the rats decided to have a piece of Teddy's face and stuffing and well... the sewer, too." At the word 'sewer', both of them looked at the drenched teddy bear that dripped ominously with disease.

Andrew put his head in his hands and sighed into them, "Why are you like this? Y/N tried doing something nice, and you...let it be beaten to death by rats."

Ashley shrugged and observed the gross teddy bear in her hands, despite it being jizzed up it was cute with its (seemingly darker...) brown fur and button nose. On its chest was a pink stitched heart that read, "I told the stars about you ☆."

Maybe it was a little dramatic to throw it in the sewer, but she wasn't about to admit that. After all, she had to get this damn teddy bear back somehow, and that was enough to convince the next guy over she regretted it.

"Do you want me to clean it?" Andrew mumbled from his hands.

"What?" Ashley hadn't realized she was zoning out.

"I said, do you want me to clean it?" Andrew looked at her with tired eyes.

Ashley thought about it for a moment and then reluctantly handed the bear to Andrew, who pinched its ear to minimize the most physical contact with the dumpster fire.

That night, while Ashley was lying in bed, she thought about why you had decided to give her the bear. Maybe it really was a ploy to get closer to her brother... but Ashley couldn't help but have fun with you. Maybe, just maybe, she could enjoy this friendship a little longer.

For the next couple of weeks, you and Ashley would hang out in spots around the city.

You'd go to the movies, window shopping, clubs (mostly to get thrown out by the bouncer), food joints, and greasy taco trucks.

Ashley would come home with a pleasant smile on her face. Oftentimes, being teased by Andrew, who said he was "finally glad Ashley found a friend."

However, this didn't mean that you were safe from Ashley's tantrums. Whenever you talked to Andrew for too long or made plans with other friends, Ashley would start crying.

This became increasingly obvious when you started becoming more acquainted with Andrew.

"I thought you were my friend Y/N! I should've known you just want Andy all to yourself! I knew it! You don't care about me at all!"

"What!? No! I was just trying to ask the time-"

"I knew it! You're fake, fake, fake!! You're only hanging out with me because of my brother. You're so selfish! Well fine, since you like him so fucking much then leave! And while we're at it, why don't you just fuck him since that's all you're good for anyways!"

Ashley laughed as she dug her fingernails into your shoulders, "Everyone is just slutting around for my brother! Including you! I should've known! I should've known!-"

In a moment, your lips were on Ashley's, instantly shutting you up.

When you pulled away, Ashley stood there shocked. Her fingernails were no longer digging into your skin but rather grazing your shoulder blades.

"Would someone obsessed with your brother do that?"

Ashley opened her mouth to speak but closed it instead. She looked down and shook her head.

"I love you, Leyley, but has anyone told you you're exhausting to be with?"

Ashley nodded and rested her head on your shoulder, "You're the one that talked to me first, Y/N. You don't get to complain."

You sighed and wrapped your arms around her. Clicking your tongue as you took a moment to process all the foul things Ashley said in the heat of the moment.

"You know, everyone was right. You're kind of a psycho." You looked at Ashley's face.

"And?" She scoffed,

"It doesn't bother me."

Ashley smiled into your shirt, "You're stuck with me,"

"Forever~"

Thank you for the ask!<3

#x reader #andy graves #headcanons #the coffin of andy and leyley #y/n #andrew graves #ashley graves #leyley graves #leyley graves x reader #ashley graves x reader #female manipulator #manipulation #manipulative #tw swearing #tw sex mention #theyre so silly #ashley is a little goofy sometimes #andrew is so tired of her shit #someone give that man a paid vacation #r.i.p reader #i need some chocolate milk #readers bring me chocolate milk pls #not proofread #sorry

[elvenisms]

friday —; s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader [3.5k]

summary: Robin orchestrates the best (and worst) Valentine's Day of your life.

cw: angst, fluff, cursing, no use of y/n, steve is an idiot (per usual), reader cries a lot (relatable), happy ending.

author's note: i got carried away with this, ngl. proof that i cannot write anything fluffy without angst. enjoy!

masterlist

It was Thursday.

Thursdays were good days. You didn’t work, giving you some well-needed rest from wearing that stupid vest, rewinding tapes, and dealing with late returns. You could throw on a movie you’d been meaning to watch for weeks, invite some friends over, and veg out. You could go see a show at The Hideout, if someone interesting was playing. Sometimes, Thursday was laundry day. But today wasn’t any Thursday.

Today was Thursday, February 13th, 1986. The day before Valentine’s Day.

“Vickie and I are going to do something, we just don’t know what.” Robin pushed her lips together, toying with a loose piece of thread on your couch. “I mean, obviously we’ll have a little date during the day, but we thought a group thing would be fun, ya’ know?”

Eddie had come over to watch Day of the Dead with you that day, and when Robin got off work, she called to see what you were up to. “Hanging out with Eds, pretending Valentine’s Day doesn’t exist.” You’d quipped, which is precisely how she ended up in your house, talking about Valentine’s Day.

“As much as I’d love to third-wheel,” Eddie stretched. “I’m going to see a show. Some new guys, but I heard they’re good.”

“Yeah, I’m…” You wracked your brain for something you had to do, trying to get out of it, just as Eddie had. “I’m, uh, working. And then… Oh, I told Max I’d help her study? Some test she has. Science, I think.”

Eddie and Robin both eyed you judgmentally. It was entirely unconvincing, and also a lie. The Max part, anyway.

“Oh, give me a break,” You grunted, their faces saying enough. “I already told you, Rob, tomorrow is just Friday as far as I’m concerned.”

“But you don’t want it to just be Friday,” She remarked. “You want it to be Valentine’s Day, but you’re lonely.”

A huff of air came through Eddie’s nose, trying not to laugh at her well-meaning bluntness. You gave him a sour look, and he quickly dropped it.

“Thank you for reminding me,” You muttered, leaning forward to pick up some empty beer bottles from the table, carrying them to the trash can in the kitchen.

You weren’t actually mad, not at Robin. You were frustrated with the fact that you cared about some stupid holiday, that you couldn’t just be like Eddie, who genuinely didn’t give a shit. Unwilling to admit it to yourself, you were also mad that every guy in Hawkins you’d gone out with was a total disaster; Matthew Campbell probably couldn’t tie a shoelace if you asked him to, and you told him that, so you didn’t suspect he’d be knocking on your door tomorrow.

You waltzed back into the living room to your unsuspecting victims, now on a tirade you’d created in your own head. “It’s not my fault that there is no one in this town for me, okay? I’ve officially given up. I’m tired of putting on makeup, going to Enzo’s, and making awful small talk, for which the reward is a lackluster trip to second base in the back of a ca—”

Robin gasped as if she’d seen a ghost. Your rant halted, staring at her, and she looked back with wide eyes, jaw agape. “How have I never put this together?”

She looked like she’d just had a stroke of genius, discovered a new element, or something. You looked at Eddie, then back to her. “Put what together? That I’m hopeless?”

“No, no no,” She leapt up off of the couch, starting to pace. “You sound just like—oh my God, this is incredible. I mean, this is actually perfect—”

“Robin!” You threw your arms out, exasperated, letting them smack against your sides.

“Steve!” She exclaimed, gripping your shoulders. “Steve, who is also lonely and has no plans for tomorrow!”

Your insides twisted. Steve.

You would’ve been lying to yourself if you said you’d never thought about him that way before. I mean, you had eyes, but your close friendship had never allowed it to last more than a minute. More than anything, the two of you poked fun at each other, constantly trying to see who could get the last word. But you were still close, close enough that you knew he’d come running if you ever really needed him, and that was… nice.

Everything about him was nice, really.

You blinked at Robin, your gears shifting at impossible speeds. She was still holding your shoulders, expectant.

“I think she’s on board.” Eddie piped up with a smirk, and you instantly held a finger out to him, still looking at the girl in front of you. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re saying it with your eyes.” Robin was containing a giddy squeal. You could almost feel her vibrating. 

“No, no, I’m not.” You finally broke free from her grasp. Now you were pacing. “If Steve was interested in me, he would’ve said something a long time ago.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Are we talking about the same guy?”

“Yeah, dingus, with a capital ‘D’,” Robin gestured with her hands. “I saw a bird land on his head once and he asked me what I was looking at. You think he’d notice he had a shot with you?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay, that’s… yeah, you’re right. But I’m not just gonna call him up and ask him to be my Valentine. I’d rather puke.”

“So don’t!” Robin spun around, another lightbulb behind her eyes. “I have an idea.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This was a terrible idea.

You were staring into your mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles on your clothes. You’d gone for not-trying-too-hard cute; a black turtleneck with a calf-length, patterned skirt, and a thick belt around your waist. You’d done your hair and your makeup, satisfied with them, but this time felt… different. You weren’t going to Enzo’s with some tip-stiffing lowlife. You were seeing Steve.

Robin had suggested a gathering at your place. She, Vickie, Nancy, and Jonathan were sitting in your living room, sipping drinks, chatting mindlessly. When she’d invited Steve, she’d said that the four of them were going to your house—assuming he’d pick up the hint, and jump at the chance to be your date. 

And he did.

The real reason you’d never allowed Steve to infiltrate your mind was because, well, that’s exactly what he’d do. You could handle losing Matthew Campbell, or Ben Taylor, or any of these meaningless Hawkins guys you never realistically saw yourself with in the first place; but Steve was close. Close to your friends, close to your heart, inching ever nearer by the minute. 

It was terrifying. But then again, he agreed to come—–and that made your stomach flutter.

Deciding you’d spent enough time making sure every last hair was in order, you took a deep breath, venturing back out to the living room. You were greeted with warm, knowing smiles. 

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy rose from her seat, coming over to give your arms a comforting rub. “Really, he’s not gonna know what hit him.”

You nodded, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. “Thanks, Nance.”

“It makes so much sense, doesn’t it? I mean, I really should play matchmaker more often. I’m changing lives here!” Robin shook Vickie’s thigh where her hand rested, excitedly. It made everyone chuckle.

Jonathan took another sip of his drink. “Now you’ve just gotta find someone for Ed—”

A knock at the door. Fuck. In an instant, every ounce of confidence you had flew straight out of the window. And your face must’ve shown it, because Nancy began soothing you again. 

“Hey, look at me.” She whispered, and you did. “You’ve never been this nervous to see him before, right? Pretend this is just another day. Just… Friday.”

You swallowed. It definitely wasn’t just Friday anymore.

Nonetheless, you shot a weak, thankful smile at her, making your way up to the door. Usually, you’d be embarrassed to let your friends see you this way—taking deep breaths, shaking your hands to relieve some anxious energy. Right now, though, you couldn’t care less, much too preoccupied with the thought of Steve’s face. Just open it. Open the door.

So, you did.

And there he was, grinning adorably, smelling of his cologne, wearing a well-fitted sweater... Holding hands with a girl.

“Hey,” He spoke happily, though his eyes searched your face for just a moment, as if you’d let the shock slip through. “This is Brenda.”

Your whole body stiffened, knowing that the rest of the group heard him, and were now searing holes through the back of your head. Your stomach flipped over on itself, even your organs mortified.

“Hi, Brenda.” You forced a smile at the girl, as if every nerve in your body wasn’t on fire. “Come on in.”

As you turned around, you studied the expressions in the room, seeking some kind of escape. Nancy and Vickie at least tried to look normal, staring at the ground or taking a sip of their drink; Jonathan’s brow was furrowed in disbelief, and Robin’s mouth was hanging open, eyes locked on you.

You quickly walked to the couch where Nancy and Jonathan sat, just standing beside it, your fight-or-flight instinct physically unwilling to let you sit. At least Steve and Brenda would have a spot now, right?

The embarrassment was already making your eyes water.

As the two of them entered the uncomfortably silent living room, you saw his eyes scan the room, similarly to how you had—like he was searching for something. And when he didn’t find it, his eyes landed back on you, any trace of his previous smile gone.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” Brenda chirped to the group, the tension completely unnoticed by her.

You felt suffocated. Suffocated by your turtleneck, by the silence, by Brenda’s curly, blonde hair and perfectly pink lips—but mostly by Steve, who was still staring at you. You refused to look back. 

“Music!” You squawked, mind numb. “We should put on some music, it’s so quiet—” You strided toward your box of cassettes, sat beside the television, and began scrambling with them. “—I’ve got Tears for Fears, or, um, oh! ABBA, everyone likes ABBA, right? Uh…”

Without you even noticing, Nancy appeared at your side, gently grabbing the tapes from your hands. “Hey, hey. I’ll pick out some music, okay?” Her voice was quiet, forehead creased in concern.

Your movements slowed. You nodded, eyes half-welled with tears. The dam was definitely about to break.

“Okay, well,” You stood up again, arms swaying slightly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “You guys sit. I’m, um… I’ll be right back.”

You spun on your heel, making your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you by leaning on it. The tears began to fall immediately, streaking your face with mascara.

You felt stupid. Stupid for ever letting Robin set this up, stupid for spending so much time making yourself presentable, when Brenda looked so effortlessly beautiful. You’d convinced yourself it would be some sort of magical night, which seemed ridiculous now. Why would Steve want you? More importantly, why would you ever let him affect you this way?

Your chest heaved, trying desperately to keep quiet. The last thing you wanted was more pity.

Soon enough, you heard a soft click from the living room, the faint sounds of Kate Bush coming through the speakers. You considered your options: hide in your room until the party was over, risk someone coming to check on you, go back out there and endure stares of sympathy, or… Leave. 

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, bringing you to your feet. You went to your mirror, attempting to smear away the black marks under your eyes—it was useless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. Eddie would call it metal. So, for where you were headed, it was actually perfect.

You snatched your purse off of the dresser, the hurt morphing from sadness to anger, and marched out into the living room, making a bee-line for the front door. Everyone’s heads perked up. Your hand met the doorknob, gripping it tightly, before Steve appeared next to you.

“Hey, can you just wait a sec—where are you going?” He spoke softly, avoiding the rest of the rooms prying ears. His voice was hoarse.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m going to see a show with Eddie.”

“Can you let me explain? Please, just—”

Your head turned sharply, reddened eyes daggering through his solemn, brown ones. “I’m embarrassed, Steve. I’m…” You swallowed, fighting back any more tears. “I can’t be here right now. Can’t I just go?”

He brought a hand up, running it anxiously through his own hair. He looked dejected, and despite how much you wanted to hate him at this moment, your heart panged. It wasn’t enough to make you stay; not when Brenda was still on your couch. Not when the rest of the group felt sorry for you.

“Okay,” He finally breathed, barely audible. You started to open the door, and he softly took hold of your wrist. “Just be safe. Please.”

You looked at him, heart thrumming in your chest, eyelashes stuck together from the mixture of tears and makeup. “Have a good night. I’m… I’m sorry I ruined it.”

And with that, you were out the door, despite his attempt to say something else.

 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The show was an adequate distraction.

When you’d shown up at The Hideout, scouting Eddie out in the crowd, he was shocked to see you. He was even more shocked to see the state you were in—makeup destroyed, eyes puffy, a hand clinging shakily to your purse. He immediately threw an arm around you, eyes expectant for an explanation.

“He brought a girl,” you’d shouted over the music. Eddie couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder, squeezing your arm in frustration. “He’s even dumber than I thought then,” He yelled back. 

Steve was dumb. Purposefully dumb? You didn’t think so, and that made it all the more difficult to stay angry.

You were thankful for Eddie more than ever. He was always great at taking your mind off of things, getting you to let loose, have fun; it may have been the worst Valentine’s Day of your life, but at least he had given it some kind of silver lining. It was almost impossible not to smile around him, especially when he was acting extra goofy, insistent on lifting your spirits.

When he drove you home, the events of the night began to set in again. You dreaded your next conversation with Steve, whenever that would happen—I’m so sorry, but I just don’t feel that way about you, you could hear him saying, shoving the embarrassment deeper down your throat.

You considered never speaking to him again, just to spare yourself that feeling.

“Do you want me to come in?” Eddie laid a gentle hand on your knee, his beaten-up car parked a few feet from your door. 

“No, I’m okay.” You assured him, unconvincingly, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Think I just need to wallow tonight, y’know?”

He nodded, looking down at his lap. “I’m sorry, seriously. Kind of want to kill the kid.”

That brought a small smile to your face. “Don’t tempt me, I might just give you the go-ahead.” 

The two of you looked at each other, sharing a small chuckle. Eventually, you reached over, hugging him tight.

“Thank you for tonight. Really, I needed it.” You whispered, and he gave your back a comforting rub. “Anytime, you know that.”

You exited the car, already starting to wish you’d said yes to Eddie’s offer, and made your way to the door. Through the windows, you could see that most of the lights were off—everyone had gone home, thank God, though you were sure Robin and Nancy would be calling off the hook to talk about everything.

You jiggled the handle open, greeted by your dark living room, apart from the one lamp emanating warm light. And underneath it, Steve.

Sitting upright on the couch, head leaned back, arms crossed. Fast asleep.

You froze, a tightness in your chest. It was exactly what you didn’t want right now, to see him, have to talk to him. And for whatever reason, something in you was glad to find him there. 

You softly shut the door behind you, sat your bag on the coffee table, and took a seat beside him. The cushion dipping under your weight caused him to stir awake: his head lulled to the side, eyes fluttering open. They widened at the sight of you. 

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and he was quick to adjust himself to a more awake position. He cleared his throat, though it did little for his voice. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, toying with your skirt. “Did… did you stay?”

“I was worried about you.” He looked into your eyes, and you wanted to look away, but you didn’t. “And I needed to talk to you.”

“What about Brenda?”

“I took her home. Came back.”

“Look,” You started, finding the strength to avert your gaze. “I don’t… I don’t want anyone else feeling bad for me. It was Robin’s idea, and of course you don’t feel that way about me, it was really stupid of me to assume—”

“Stop.” He blurted, somewhat forcefully. You blinked at him. “Please, just stop. I fucked up tonight, really bad. When I got the invite, I thought you’d have someone with you. It just… I’m an idiot. If I wasn’t an idiot, I would’ve never brought Brenda.”

Your stomach flipped familiarly, like it did when you heard a knock at the door earlier. “She was  beautiful, though.”

“She isn’t you.” His hand landed on your thigh, and his eyes darted to it for a moment, as if he hadn’t meant to. You both lingered there.

When he realized you weren’t going to push it away, he continued. “If—if when you went out with Eddie… I mean, if I blew my chance, I understand.”

Blew his chance. You wondered if he could ever truly do that.

“Steve, Eddie was just cheering me up.” You couldn’t help but smile a little, putting your hand over his. “He’s not my Valentine, if that’s what you’re asking. He does kind of want you dead, though.”

“They all want me dead, trust me.” He blew air out of his lips, eyebrows raising.

“What do you mean?”

“After you left, Brenda went to the bathroom, and I got a thorough bitching out.” 

You bit your lip, trying to hide the happiness that brought you. “You kind of deserved it, though.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He affirmed. There were a few moments of stillness, your touching hands drawing both of your attention. 

“Is Brenda your Valentine?” You wondered, voice softer. 

“Didn’t ask her to be.” He looked up at you, voice matching your tone. “Are you still… looking for one?”

Your eyes were locked, melting under each other's gaze. You could almost feel his breath.  His free hand came up to cradle your face, thumbing across your stained cheek. 

“There’s really only one I wanted.”

“Same here.” He whispered.

You quickly leaned forward, disturbing the stillness of the moment, and slotted your lips with his. He tasted like beer and strawberry chapstick, and smelled like a warm summer day—one that broke through the chill you’d been feeling all evening. Butterflies erupted inside you, fluttering in your stomach, your heart, your veins.

Your hands came up to clutch at his chest, the fabric of his sweater crinkling beneath your fingers. The kiss, which had started fervent, softened; the two of you broke apart, and he stole a peck at the corner of your mouth, foreheads resting against each other.

You both took heavy breaths, caused more by emotion than physical exertion, chests rising and falling in unison.

“I gotta make it up to you.” He breathed. You shook your head ever so slightly, a grin playing across your lips. 

“Steve, you already—”

“I’ll be your Valentine every day, for as long as you let me.”

You thought it might’ve been the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you. Your forehead creased, trying not to let your eyes water, this time for a much better reason. As close as your faces were, you knew he noticed anyway.

“Deal?” His eyes searched your own, voice small, as if he was afraid you might say no.

You couldn’t stop a happy huff from leaving your lips, a single tear fighting its way out of the corner of your eye. “Deal.”

He beamed, pressing his lips into yours, as if he’d been awaiting the opportunity to do it again.

Steve Harrington became yours on Valentine’s Day, 1986. A Friday. A day you’d almost always ignored, until you didn’t. A day you were almost certain was going to be the worst day of your life, until it wasn’t. In fact, it might’ve been the best. 

Because Steve would continue to be yours each Friday after that—and every day in between, too.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

Mɪᴛᴄʜᴇʟʟ Esᴛᴀᴛᴇs (2) "Bɪᴛᴛᴇʀ"

EwanMitchell Verse x F!Reader & Will x Reader

A/N: Dedicated to the anon who sent me some kind words! Hopefully this isnt horrible 😭 //Dividers by@firefly-graphics

Summary: You settle into you new home pretty well. After a week you've seen all the tenants and eve learned some of their weird habits. After a late night walk you happen to come accross someone in a moment of vulnerability.

TW: 18+, smut, masturbation, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it...sometimes), p in v, rough, soft to rough sex, dry humping, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 4k

Masterlist • ← Previous Chapter • Next Chapter → (WIP)

A week has gone by since you moved in.

Surprisingly it was a pretty calm week. Your friends dropped off the furniture that they found for your apartment. Since you didn't have any classes you painted the walls, giving the place more color and personality.

You hadn't gotten the chance to talk to anyone in the building really but you spent a good amount of time peering out your window and seeing all the different tenants and their habits.

You noticed that there was this boy about your age who spent most of his time hanging around the mailbox. You thought it was odd at first but then on a different day, you saw him sneakily stop and examine someone else's package. He only ran off and didn't take it because that tenant opened their door.

You also saw him further in town the other day. He was dressed up as a monk and holding a red-painted pail. He was "collecting" money for children for the holidays. It was only later on when you saw him come home did you see him return with that same pail of money.

Mental note. There is a thief here.

Ettore was still cold and rarely talked to you. When you dropped off the rental agreement, he quickly kicked you out of his office and closed the blinds. You thought maybe he just wasn't good with people but he started giving you a weird creepy vibe when you saw him watch the other tenants.

He would stand around the building looking as if he was just checking on things but he was observing and watching. You once caught him watching you as you were talking the trash out and there was that one time when you were doing laundry and you swear you saw him up near your unit.

Your next-door neighbour, the horse tattoo guy, never left his apartment. You start to think he's dead in there but then you hear the occasional TV sounds and shower running. You did see him leave once but that was only to go get beer and then come back home. You've also heard him arguing on the phone with someone though you can never make out what the conversation is about and who he is talking to.

But. The strangest tenant out of all of them. He is a long white-haired guy who has a long scar over one of his eyes. He only comes about twice a week. He comes, walks his dog, stays for one night then leaves the next day and is gone. Three days later he comes back and repeats the same cycle. You were sitting in the neat park when his dog came up to you one day. She was the most friendly thing ever and wanted to play. He didn't say anything but let you play with her until you had to leave. When you tried to say goodbye he answered with "mmm" and that was it.

Everyone else seems to be normal except those guys. There was a boy with glasses and khaki shorts. He looked like he was going to school every day so you only assumed he was attending the university nearby, same as you. The boy with the kid, you did find out that was his brother when you helped the kid after he tripped while riding a scooter. The kid was Liam and he lived with his older brother Jack.

You hadn't gotten to interact much with others but it felt nice that you had met at least one person who lived here.

Your phone alarm went off letting you know it was time to get up. It was the last thing you wanted to do but if you didn't know you never would.

After a shower and getting dressed you grabbed your stuff and headed out the door. You looked around and saw Liam heading for school, he waved at you and you waved back.

You struggled to lock your door but kept trying. The key wouldn't turn.

"It's jammed." You looked over and saw the horse guy standing there with a beer in his hand.

"How do I get it fixed?" He eyes you up and down before taking another swig.

"Jack. Lives in A1. He's maintenance." He spits off the rail and then heads back inside his apartment.

You groan and start heading towards the apartment. You had hoped to avoid any interactions with your neighbors today but it doesn't seem like that will be happening.

You knock on the door but no one answers. You knock again and a minute later the door opens.

"Yeah?" He rubs his eyes and leans against the doorframe and now you feel like shit cause you woke him up.

"Sorry...the lock is jammed. Just wondering if I could get some help." He yawned as he nodded his head.

"Yeah, hold on." He closed the door and you stood outside it awkwardly waiting for him to return. As you stand outside his door waiting, the person next door comes out of their unit and locks the door.

You try not to stare but you kind of do...and you're not good at hiding it. He stops and pulls out a cigarette box putting one in between his lips before offering you one.

"No thanks. Don't smoke." He shrugs his shoulders, putting the box back in his pocket before lighting the one in his mouth.

"Suit yourself, princess." He winks then walks away. You stand there for another minute before Jack opens back up his door now properly dressed and carrying a toolbox.

He follows you in silence towards your door. You drop your bag on the ground and stand off to the side as he tries to open it himself.

"...Your brother's a nice kid." He smiles as you mention his brother.

"You've met him?"

"Yeah. Was out for a walk when he tripped on his scooter. Helped him out." He turns his head and looks at you.

"Oh! You're the girl he was talking about." He turns back to the door and pulls out the key and stares at it before frowning.

"What's wrong?" You step over to him to look. You see the key with something pink and sticky on it.

"Gum. Someone put gum in your lock." He shakes his head and opens up the toolbox. "I'll just replace the lock. Might take a while."

"I have a class to get to...could I come to get the key later?" You pick up your bag.

“Yeah all good.” You turn and leave heading back down the stairs and walking out of the complex. 

After a boring couple of hours of listening to professors and taking notes, you and your classmates decide to head to the library. Planning to study but realistically you are all going to end up talking for hours and doing no work. 

As you all gossip about some campus drama going on you notice someone walking around looking at books. You try to get a better look from your spot and then you recognize him. His name was Osferth and lived on the other side of you in B4. He was super sweet and had helped you with your groceries one time. 

As he grabs a book and walks out the aisle he spots you and gives you a warm smile and a wave. You smile and wave back and can see him blush slightly before he heads towards the front desk. 

“Who was that?” Boyse bumps your shoulder while wiggling her eyebrows. 

“My neighbour.” She hums in response. 

“Cute.” You give her that look that only she tends to ever bring out. Boyse had been trying to convince you for some time now to get back into the dating scene but you couldn’t not after…last time. 

Just like you predicted you all spent the next hour showing each other funny Tik Tok and talking. Being the friend with the car you drove everyone to their homes before heading to yours. 

You stopped at Jack’s to get the key. He was on the phone and quickly handed it to you with a smile before closing the door. You could hear him arguing on the phone. You turn and head towards the stairs to get up to your unit. You look over to the office building and can see Ettore there watching you before he closes the blinds.

Why the fuck he so weird?

You spend the rest of the day making up for the work you didn’t do in the library and attempting to tune out the horse guy arguing again on the phone. 

After spending hours working on essays and group projects you were tired, you had tried going to sleep but for some reason, you just couldn’t. The sheets felt too rough, the bed too lumpy, the room was too hot and it was just too quiet. Everything was bothering you. And above all your brain just wouldn’t shut up. 

You rip the sheets off of you in anger and stand up grabbing your keys off your dresser before leaving your room.

You used to go one walk a lot back home since there was a nice park just behind your old apartment. It was always calming whenever you had a stressful day or...an argument with him.

You pull on your shoes and grab the sweater you threw on the couch to take with you in case it was cold outside.

Locking the door behind you while looking around you spot the white-haired man walking back into his apartment with his dog. You can see the light in the office on but the blinds are closed.

Your brain now full of thoughts of your ex

You walk down the stairs while zipping up your sweater and walk towards the liquor store nearby. You start drinking the second you step out of the store then you head towards the twenty-four-hour convenience store just down the street from your apartment complex.

You purchase your favourite chocolate bar and a drink before walking around your neighbourhood. It was surprisingly empty, nobody was walking around, and barely any cars driving around. The most noise you can hear are dogs barking or the occasional voices or tv noise from houses you pass by. By the end of the walk, you've finished your snacks and alcohol and it's even starting to set in.

The colours from the houses are the tiniest brighter. Your thoughts clear of your asshole of an ex and the whole reason you had to move in the first place. The noises of crickets are louder and whatever lamp lights are almost blinding.

You circle back to the building using the path that leads out from the neighbourhood to the back near the recycling bins. You come around the corner, the area is only covered by a small lamp thats on the wall.

As you turn around you hear a sound. You stop walking and look towards the noise. It's coming around from the recycling bins.

You at first think it's an animal inside looking for something to eat. Something is panting. Your brain under the influence tells you to walk closer and look rather than just turn and walk the other way around the building.

You walk over to the recycling and slowly peer around.

It's not until you turn and look do you hear the moan come from someone's lips. When you finally get a proper look you scream slightly and quickly cover your eyes before turning around.

"Shit." you hear him mumble before he turns and faces the wall.

You try to get the image out of your head but it's engraved in there. Whoever it was had been leaning against the wall, his head angled up and eyes closed as he was lazily stroking himself. Though most of his penis had been inside of his pants you still saw some of it.

"Y'alright?" He finally turns back around after he tucked himself back in his pants. You keep your face covered as you simply nod your head. "It's away now. You can look."

You waringly uncover your eyes and look at him.

"Ever thought of doing that in your own apartment." You cross your arms slightly annoyed. Your eyes wander to the ground and see the empty bottles of alcohol.

"Wasn't expecting someone to be up and about at this hour." He shrugs and leans down shakingly as he grabs one of the cans and brings it to his lips. "What are ya doin' up anyways?"

"Clearing my head." Your words were slurred the tiniest bit as you spoke. He looks you up and down as you throw the garbage into the bins next to him.

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly as you both kind of just stand there in silence.

"...W

ant a cuppa?" He picks up his trash almost falling over as he bends down.

"Cup of what?" you hear him laugh as he throws the empty bottles away.

"A cuppa..." He looks over to you, he can still see the confused look on your face as you simply stare at him. "Cup of tea."

"Ohhh" You stare at him for a while gauging if you should say yes or not. He looks normal enough. But most serial killers looked like normal people then turned out to be psychos behind closed doors. For all you knew he was luring you into his apartment to steal your kidney and sell it on the black market.

"You don't have to say yes. I just feel bad about...what you had to see" You stare at him for a while longer.

"Why not." You shrug then follow him back around the building towards his unit. The second you're back inside you look around the space. You could tell this was one of the old motel rooms that hadn't been renovated yet. "How long you been living here?"

He walks over to the kitchen area and fills up the kettle.

"About 4 months." You walk over to the couch stumbling a bit. You notice the lack of any decorations on the walls. "Do you normally just walk around at night drinking?" You look over at him. He was watching you stumble around with a smirk on his face.

You struggle to take off your sweater, your arm getting caught on absolutely nothing.

"It's a great past time." He laughs and then turns back to getting cups from the cupboards. "Do you normally jerk off next to recycling bins in public?" You can see the smile on his face grow wider and his cheeks flush red.

He turns back around.

"So what made you move here of all places? There had to have been better options." He leans against the counter crossing his arms.

"Other places would have taken longer. More checks are needed. This place was quick and easy." You shrug.

"Quick and easy? Why the rush?" He puts the tea bags in the cups. You watch him for a moment thinking if you should say. You hadn't even really come clean to your friends about why you had to move so quickly. You weren't in the mood to hear their "I told you so's.".

"My ex was a piece of shit. He lived with me in my apartment and I knew he wouldn't go so I did." You pull your legs on the couch. "Left in the middle of the day while he was at work." He nods his head in understanding.

You hear the kettle whistle and watch as he pours the water in the mugs.

"What about you?" He walks over and sits down on the couch handing you one mug and placing the other down on the coffee table.

"Not running from anything...just preventing the inevitable for a while longer. Enjoying what I can." You try to understand what he could mean by that. He notices the confusion on your face. "There was this girl, a school friend. I really liked her but she was dating my best friend."

Though you yourself had never dealt with anything like that some of your friends had. It's never easy to watch someone love another but know they can't be with them.

He blows on his tea before taking a sip.

"I knew I shouldn't like her and that it was possible nothing would come from it but...I just couldn't help but not like her."

You watch as his gaze fixes somewhere random the memory taking over. You grab your tea and take a sip burning your tongue but playing it off.

"We hooked up one, while she was still with him. Afterwards, she said it wouldn't happen again." He leans back into the couch. "The worst part is that not too long before I left I found out she was pregnant. Didn't get the chance to ask her if it was mine or not."

He takes another sip before looking into his cup.

"I'm gonna need something stronger than tea." He stands up and puts the cup on the counter before grabbing two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka and walking back over to the couch.

"Why did you leave?" He sits down and pours the shots.

"I only ever really stayed 'cause I was caring for my nan. She passed...made plans to leave but those plans went south. Now im just...waiting I guess."

He took a shot then poured himself another and took it. You reached forward picked up the other one and downed it, the sting and bitter taste made your face scrunch.

You both sat there and drank for almost an hour. At this point, you both had managed to finish the rest of the vodka. Your conversations bounced around from different topics. At one point you were talking about your favourite colours and then the best place to get pizza in town. You talked about fun stuff then talked a bit about depressing stuff before cracking more jokes.

You were lying on the couch while Will was lying on the floor.

"Ok, but you have to admit apple juice is better than orange juice." You both had been going back and forth about white was better. He was adamant that orange juice was the best of the two. (Apple juice is better don't argue with me 🤣)

"You can get orange juice faster than apple juice. Not to mention it tastes fresher." You rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, but...pulp. And that nasty taste when you brush your teeth and then drink orange juice." Will sits up with a smile, you turn your head to look at him.

"I like that taste." A look of disgust spreads on your face before you both start dying of laughter. Once you both have calmed down Will rests his head against the couch looking at you.

You both narrow your eyes at each other just staring before he reaches upwards and brushes a piece of hair out of your face. His hand lingers as he gently brushes over your cheek.

Before you can do anything he sits up more and leans over to you kissing you deeply. It's messy considering your broth is drunk out of your minds.

He moves up onto the couch getting on top of you. His hands slide down to your waist as he lifts and spreads your legs slightly so he nestles in between them. You wrap your legs around his waist.

He lets you breathe for a moment lowering his head in the crook of your neck planting soft kisses.

Considering you had gotten out of bed to go for a walk you were only wearing a tank top with no bra.

His hands slid up as gently massaged your nipples in between his fingers. You could feel his hard-on pressing right against your clit.

He could clearly feel the friction to as he began rolling his hips chasing some sort of friction.

He starts pulling your tank up slowly kissing his way up your stomach. You lean up so you can slip over your head as you lay back down he takes one of your nipples into his mouth gently sucking on it. He runs his thumb over the other watching it harden under the soft pressure. He lets go of your nipple with a pop and moves over to the other giving it the same attention.

He sits up, you help him take off his shirt before you both shuffle off your pants. You lean over to where you had earlier discarded your sweater reach for your wallet and take your "emergency" condom out. You unwrap it and slowly slide it on him.

Will lays you back down and kisses your cheek.

"Lift your hips." You do as he says and almost moan at the feeling of his tip grazing your clit ever so softly. Will slowly sheathes himself inside of you while peppering kisses all over your chest.

When he finally bottoms out you both moan. His movements are soft and slow at first, dragging himself in and out of you so you can feel every ridge and pulse.

Will sits up and holds on to your hips as he slams into you at a rough and relentless pace. He dips down taking your mouth in his. As he hits that soft spot inside you harshly you moan into the kiss, your moans get louder as he continues to bully the same spot.

He reaches down and brings your legs up as far as they can go trying to get as deep as possible. You reach down circling your clit trying to relieve some of the aches. Your pussy spasms around him pulling him in deeper.

"Fuck- just like that." Will watches as you lean your head back, mouth agape as you moan and whimper.

It all becomes too much as you cum around his cock. Will holds you down as you shake slightly kissing your cheek as he doesn't slow down the pace chasing his own high. Your nails dig into his sides as he his movements begin stuttering, losing rhythm.

Will moans as he continues pounding into you before he lets go of your legs and holds himself up as he cums into the condom.

"Fuck Leah" You almost miss him saying it. But you shrug it off it's not as if he's yours. Will slowly slides out of you with a soft moan before laying down beside you on the couch and pulling you back into him.

He nuzzles into your neck as you both slowly fall asleep.

You hear the annoying honking of the garbage truck and slowly sit up grabbing your head in pain. You clearly drank more than you could handle.

You look around and notice that this is in fact not your apartment.

Hearing the soft snoring behind you, you turn around and see who it is. As you see Will still sleeping soundly you gently unwrap his arm from your waist and grab your clothes. You get dressed as quietly as possible before grabbing and leaving his apartment and doing the walk of shame back to yours.

The second you're back home you head to the shower feeling relaxed under the warm water. You change into fresh clothes and take an Advil for your pounding headache.

You grab your wallet from your sweater and look through it. You notice the missing condom.

"At least I wasn't dumb enough to go raw." You crash onto your bed planning to just skip all your classes and get some well-deserved rest.

You don't notice the stuff in your apartment that's misplaced. How your closet is open when you know you closed it before you left. One thing is for sure between your headache and the sound of the garbage truck still near by you don't hear the sound of footsteps leaving your apartment and silently closing the door behind them.

A/N: This took WAAAAYYY longer than it should have. I had it all typed up but then I also had two draft tabs opened...when I saved one and closed it the other was still open and since it does auto saves it got rid of all the new stuff i wrote 😭😭

But it still got done!! Hopefully, this isn't as bad as I feel like it is.

General Taglist: @thought--bubble @valeskafics Mitchell Apartments: @slytherincursebreaker, @watercolorskyy, @dixie-elocin, @venmondiese, @briefcollectivepersona,@fan-goddess, @australia-made-1997

#ewan mitchell verse #ewan nation #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #will x reader #will salad days fic #will salad days fanfic #will salad days #salad days #smut #mitchell estates

[bubuslutty]

Day 6: you wanna be the Queencard?

this is part 6, all parts

pairing: angel/demon!fem reader x 141

word count: 2.5k

tags: fluff, poor attempt at humour (help), no use of y/n, 3rd person pov, proofread by me so sorry for any mistakes

warnings: none

summary: Price notices changes + Angel invites Soap to hang out <3

a/n: special thanks to my first ever beta reader @whore4dilfs! Feedback means lots to me and gives me boosts of motivation <3 

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this chapter/serie, means lots 💖

the title of this part is taken from this song.

Price wasn't stupid. He has eyes and can notice when people slowly start to change.

Since they have moved into the little home in London for work under Laswell’s watchful eyes, their new neighbour has been nothing but a pleasant surprise. At first, it was fun you know? Oh look, we have a hot neighbour and she’s nice! Angel would sometimes be talked about when they were having dinner, the men casually talking about how her cat almost ruined her flowers and she shouted at her. Or how last Saturday she almost tripped and fell face first when taking out the trash, or how she gets her laundry from the garden wearing nothing but a stupid t-shirt and pair of underwear.

Price is a gentleman, he tries his best not to stare, not to let his eyes linger on her when she’s out and about or greets him when he’s smoking in the garden. But she’s so fucking pretty, it’s frustrating at this point, how she manages to make his breath stutter every time he sees her. She could be wearing an old Minnie Mouse t-shirt, a pair of shorts and yellow Crocs with gardening gloves, dirty and sweating under the sun and digging up weeds and Price would always get caught staring at her, his cigar forgotten between his fingers.

He feels like a teenager all over again. He’s not a virgin for fuck sake. And he had his fair share of hookups here and there along with (failed) relationships. But he still catches himself staring at her lips when she’s laughing at something Soap said, throwing her head back and screeching with laughter. And she seems to not mind his men’s antics, either.

She doesn’t ask about their scars, doesn’t comment on Ghost's clothing choices or how he wears a mask 24/7 and never asks why she should call him Ghost either. She never asked them intrusive questions, not even when they were comfortable, bellies full of wine and warm under the sun on random afternoons. Angel hasn’t made any of his men or himself uncomfortable, not even once, and that’s terrifying because it’s so easy to get comfortable and open with her. It makes him want to talk about things he only keeps to himself. She makes him want to sit and ramble about what he’d do once he’s old and retired, maybe he’ll buy a boat, or a house up north, or move to Spain or to Morocco.

One fine Tuesday, Price was sitting on the sofa, scrolling on his phone while Gaz was curled up next to him, reading a random webcomic on his phone when their doorbell rang.

Gaz frowned, looking up at Price, "Are we expecting someone, today?" 

"No." Price shook his head. 

"I'll get it!" Soap exclaimed, skipping 3 steps and jumping down the stairs, wearing a tank top and a pair of comfortable shorts with little dog-printed socks. Initially, Soap thought it must be one of his packages that came earlier than expected, but once he opened the door he realised it wasn't the mailman but their hot neighbour. 

And she was absolutely soaked from head to toe, it was raining so hard outside that Soap accidentally got rain inside their house, wetting the floor under his feet

"I locked myself out. Can I please come in until the rain stops?" Angel asked, embarrassed and hair sticking to her neck and face. 

"Holy shit, yeah, of course!" Soap quickly moved to the side, allowing her to step inside their warm house and locked the door behind her. 

Angel stood there awkwardly, her clothes sticking to her skin as she shivered and looked at Soap with her wet eyelashes clumped together.

"What the hell happened to you?" Price said as soon as he saw her, sitting up properly.

"Got rained on, and uhm, I locked myself out," Angel said, squirming with embarrassment, her hands clutching the ends of her short skirt.

"Jesus…" He sighed and stood up, "Gaz, get her something to change into, and Soap, give her a towel and show her to the bathroom."

"You don't have to!" Angel quickly said, still dripping water next to their door, refusing to take a step in any direction. 

Price gave her an unimpressed look, "Really? You're dripping water all over the floor and you'll get sick." 

Angel pursed her lips and watched Price walk to the kitchen, turning on the kettle and preparing ginger tea for her.

Soap brought her a big towel, to wrap herself into and get to the bathroom, where Gaz handed her the smallest t-shirt he could find, a zip-up hoodie and a pair of shorts.

"I tried my best, I know none of this will fit but yeah-" Gaz mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and Angel smiled, shivering under the towel. 

"Thank you, Gaz." 

"No worries." He smiled and left her to change and dry up in the bathroom.

"Oh yeah," He stopped in his tracks and walked up to the bathroom's door, knocking twice, "Take a hot shower, you'll get warmer that way!" 

"Okay!" Angel said behind the door, wrestling with her wet skirt to pull it down.

. 

. 

. 

"Are you sure I need all of this?..." Angel asked, blowing on the mug containing the tea Price made her. 

"Angel, shut up." Price sighed, sitting next to her on the sofa. 

Angel was wrapped in a giant fluffy blanket, wearing military-grade warm socks, with a warm water bottle placed behind her back and a big mug of tea in her hands. 

"Damn, alright…" Angel rolled her eyes and took a sip of her tea, feeling it warm her body from the inside out.

Gaz sat down next to Price, curling up next to him and this time grabbing the remote control, looking for something to put in as background noise. 

Soap also came back down, but with Ghost this time, literally dragging him by the sleeve and making him sit down, curling next to him and throwing a leg over one of his ridiculously thick and strong thighs.

Angel noticed all of this but didn't say anything.

"So, how did ya lock yourself out?" Soap finally asked. 

"I was rushing and forgot my keys," Angel said, already annoyed at how she would need to call someone to unlock her door for her. 

"Went somewhere special? You looked nice." Soap said, making her smile. 

"Yeah, I went for coffee with a friend. And I bought a new ring!" She said and stuck out her hand to show him. 

Soap's eyes immediately sparkled with interest at the ring she showed him. Ghost glanced at him and at the silver ring she was showing him, and knew Johnny liked jewellery, especially silver.

Soap grabbed her hand and he leaned forward, "That's beautiful, where did you get it from?" 

The ring was silver with small pink and purple rocks on it, forming a little skull, obviously mimicking the tag on Kuromi's collar.

"This store is 20 minutes away from here by train! They have so many things and almost everything is unisex! I'll send you the address if you want?" Angel said, excited to be sharing something she found with him.

"I dinnae have your number though?" Soap realised. 

"Oh yeah," Angel was confused, with the number of times they've spoken and hung out, how come they don't have each other's numbers already?

"Alright, give me your number and I'll add you to our group chat so you can save their numbers as well, okay?" Soap said, taking out his phone and handing it to her. 

Angel typed in her number and saved her contact under 'Angel 👹'

When she handed him back his phone he snorted, "What type of emoji is that?"

"It's a demon!" She said with a grin and he laughed, shrugging it off.

The conversation was light and easy, they talked about random mundane things until Angel’s attention was stolen by the TV, she stared at the big screen with her mouth open and forgot to finish her sentence.

She snorted, and Gaz tilted his side to the side, “What’s up?”

“That’s you, John.” Angel pointed at the screen, where a big brown bear was napping under a tree on its back. Gaz and Soap started giggling like school girls at Price’s expression. Ghost on the other hand let out a small snort and pulled at the strings of his hoodie, trying to hide himself from his captain.

Price leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees and squinting at the screen like an old man, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“That’s literally exactly how you nap in the garden sometimes, and it’s cute!” Angel said, still laughing at his face.

“That’s not true, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about, the sun must’ve messed up with your head.” He said, shrugging and refusing to meet her eyes.

“John, stop playing, it’s you!” Angel whined, shaking his arm and making Gaz laugh harder.

“If I’m that bear, you’re that one.” He said, pointing at the TV. Angel glanced at the TV and saw a small cub falling on its face and getting a mouthful of dirt. She gasped at his audacity, “No, I’m not!”

“I have seen you almost trip outside when taking out the trash, 3 times already.” Price teased her, looking at her with a small smirk.

“And you laugh at a lady instead of preserving her reputation? How dare you, John!” Angel said with a hand on her chest and falling back on Soap with a hand against her forehead.

“That is not a way to treat a proper lady, John. Apologise!” Soap said, lower lip dramatically wobbling and cradling her head in his arms. 

“I’ll think about it.” Price chuckled at their antics and Gaz gasped, “Oh my days, you’re actually the worst.” 

“And yet, you still love me.” Price sighed.

“Unfortunately.” Gaz rolled his eyes and placed a kiss on the Captain’s temple before standing up and walking to the kitchen, to get himself a snack.

.

.

.

“I think your clothes should be dry now,” Soap said, opening the tumble dryer’s door and watching Angel bend down to inspect her clothes.

“They are, thanks.” She grabbed the clothes and placed them on top of the dryer, closing the door with one hand.

Soap watched Angel fold her clothes in a neat pile and her skirt caught his attention. It was a pretty short brown pleated skirt, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to run his hand on the soft fabric. Angel stopped and stared at Soap’s entranced and focused face.

“Nice, isn’t it?” She smiled and he snapped back into reality, retrieving his hand to himself.

“What fabric is that?” He asked and Angel just stared at him, “I actually don’t know…”

“Wait, maybe it says on the tag inside.” She exclaimed and quickly grabbed the skirt, flipping it inside out and frowning, when it was nowhere to be seen, “Oh shit, I must’ve removed it and forgot, sorry Soap.”

If there’s one thing Soap can tell you he likes about the woman, is that she dresses well. Her personal style is so cool and unique to him, every time she’s about to leave for work, he stops and admires her choice of clothes for the day. At first, it embarrassed him, how much he enjoys clothes and colours and fashion, but then it took years of working through internalised self-hatred for him to enjoy ‘womanly’ things without feeling like utter shit about it in the comfort of his own room. Thanks, Dad for the trauma <3

“If you want, I can try to figure out where I bought it from and buy you one? So we can match?” Angel asked, grinning and holding the skirt up in her hands.

Soap’s eyes widened a bit and he quickly spluttered, “No, you dinnae have to! Please, don’t bother.”

“You don’t like the skirt?” Angel’s smile fell.

“No, I do! It's just you dinnae have to bother buying me one, It won’t suit me.” He said, laughing and scratching his arm, no humour behind his laugh, if anything it was tainted with embarrassment and a hint of shame.

Angel’s eyes softened, “Soap, what makes you think it won’t suit you? Have you seen your thighs and tiny -excuse my language- slutty waist?”

Soap blushed bright red and barked out a laugh, “What the shite, Angel?!”

“It’s true! Don’t tell me Ghost has never told you this before?” Angel asked, tilting her head to the side.

Soap took a sharp inhale through his nose and slammed the door of the kitchen shut, “What makes you think he-”

“The man’s practically obsessed with your thighs, every time you sit next to him his hands glue themselves to them, especially when you’re wearing shorts. And I don’t even blame him, you have killer thighs. In my opinion, it’s a crime you have to wear trousers-” Angel said, waving her hands and the skirt around, and Soap almost died and closed her mouth with his palm before he could stop himself.

“Alright!”

“Hmm??” Angel hummed behind his palm, eyes wide.

“You want to buy me a skirt? Okay, just- just don’t–” Soap said, letting out a shaky breath and slowly removing his hand from her mouth.

Angel blinked up at him with big shiny eyes, feeling the borrowed shorts slowly slide down her hips. “Are you free next Wednesday?” She asked and quickly reached down the tie the short’s strings tighter to stop them from sliding down.

“Yeah, why?”

“Let’s play dress up at mine,” Angel said, grinning up at Soap.

“You want to-”

“Let’s hang out, and I’ll show you my jewellery collection,” Angel added with a small smirk, raising her brows.

Soap gaped at her like a fish, his mouth agape, and groaned, throwing his head back, “Fine, At what time?”

“How about 3 in the afternoon?”

“I’ll bring snacks.” Soap nodded, feeling an odd soup of excitement and anxiety brew in his stomach.

“Perfect, see you then, Soap.” Angel winked and grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to place a kiss on his cheek and happily skipped out of the kitchen.

“PRICE, CAN YOU UNLOCK MY DOOR NOW, PLEASE?” He heard Angel call out in the living room and leaned against the tumble dryer, glancing down at his thighs in his shorts. He chuckled and shrugged, “I do have killer thighs.”

Outside in front of Angel’s front door, Price was squatting in front of the lock, picking at it with some tool Angel has never seen before she gasped when a small click was heard and Price pulled the doorknob down, opening it.

Price stood up and turned to her, “Here we go, now go look for those keys, to make sure they’re actually inside.”

Angel raised a brow, “Should I be worried you can unlock my doors?...” 

“No, why? Are you hiding something?” Price asked, with a hand on his hip, wearing a small smirk.

“Of course not.”

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @loveyhoneydovey @cutiecusp @pinkwigonmytv @mandythemint @itsberrydreemurstuff @tapioca-marzipan @fruitymoonbeams-blog @poohkie90 @chaoticevilbakugo @anubis-reed @thefairybird @skytacvia @marytvirgin @cynicalmnm @maechanexe @t0jis-worm @1800imgay @4ndjelij4 @multitargaryen @lilpothoscuttings @mysticalpandabear @silviafantin15 @marvel-ness @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @h-leighh @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @whore4dilfs

#cod mw2 #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #call of duty #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x you #cod mw2 fic #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 x y/n #task force 141 x female reader #141 x reader #ghost #soap #gaz #cod ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #bubuslutty writes #Angel on Duty #soap x reader smut #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #Simon Riley #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader

[philliam-writes]

you are in the earth of me [02]

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Content: canon-typical violene, patching up Reader, author pining for Lockwood

Summary: Your eyes pop open. Lockwood is standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister with his arms crossed, an amused look on his face. All tousled dark hair and brown eyes as sharp as glass, he is as tall as Kipps, perhaps taller, and lankier. But their demeanours are quite different. Where Kipps is calm and steady like stone, reliable like the earth that is always solid under your feet, Lockwood seems striking like a flash of bright lightning—quick-witted and assured in the path he carves as though the mere thought of something standing in his way is so far-off that he just barrels ahead with no regard of what he sets ablaze.

Notes: [01] | [03]

Words: 7.3k

A/N: Nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming positive feedback I got for chapter 01!! Thank you so much for everyone who's joined the ride. I hope you guys will enjoy this as much as I!! (I'm on my 4th rewarch of Lockwood & Co. and I still delight in noticing all the small details they put into the show. Also. Lockwood's voice! Makes! Me! Weak!

02: for whom the bell tolls

each man’s death diminishes me, for i am involved in mankind. therefore, send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee

      — John Donne

The Rotwell dormitory you live in, nicknamed the Lions Den, is a stocky brick house taking up a good chunk of Dovehouse Street. There used to be a hotel there, way before the Problem, and then an apartment complex for the rich elderly until Rotwell bought the whole building and its private gardens just to prove they can. Echoing the classical Georgian townhouses of Chelsea built out of pale toast and earthy red shades of brick, every residence features timber-panelled walls, triple-glazed windows, and smoked oak floors throughout.

The front entrance has glass doors sliding open for anyone entering. Somehow, the foyer always smells like pine needle polisher. To the right side is a row of mail boxes with each tenant’s name, on the left side is the guard’s office, separated from the foyer by sleek glass panels. Someone decided to put a whole rainforest inside, monstera, rubber trees, philodendrons. They nearly swallow tonight’s agent covering the shift: a bulky, young girl with dark curls to her chin looking like a malformed porcelain doll—delicate features on top, sinewy muscle stretching the seams of her wine red agent jacket going down. She stares at you for a moment, blinking with her long black eyelashes.

You wave.

She doesn’t wave back, and returns to painting her nails a vibrant yellow you could pick out from space.

Inside your mail box, you find ads and unpaid bills, reminders to pay said bills, and a very unflattering drawing of you working out in the dormitory’s underground gym area. You crumble the note and throw it back inside, slamming the window shut.

Your two-room apartment lies at the end of a long corridor, facing the backside and gardens. It is a copy paste of all other living complexes inside this building: a small entrance leading into a spacious living area with a cream-coloured two-seater couch at its centre, a solid cherrywood desk next to the curtained window and a heavy antique armoire twice your size pushed against the wall. Behind an ornate cedar door is the small bedroom, king-sized bed and heavy bureau and all that makes it look more like a hotel room advert than a place where you could wind down after a hard day.

As always, you stand in the hallway for a moment before turning the lights on. It is quiet, the room smells of polished wood and washed laundry. As always, it feels as though the walls are closing in.

You flick the light on and stash your rapier inside the umbrella rack by the front door, ignoring the two trash bags waiting to be thrown out. The laundry has been hanging for three days, but there was just no time to clean it away because you’re barely here—every minute spend within these walls is taken up by sleeping, eating or occasionally staring bleary-eyed at the ceiling and counting the heavy thuds from above whenever the agent living in the upper apartment decides it is time to practice tango in high heels at three in the morning.

You cross the room and open the window, letting in the cool night breeze. The smell of dawn hangs in the air, crispy and cold like the crackling of dry leaves. It will take only a few more hours for the sun to rise and draw London’s people from their homes to go about their daily lives. Jobs, grocery runs, late afternoon dates, strolls through the parks. When the world wakes up, you turn in to sleep, bloody, beaten and bruised, but alive.

You wonder if every day will be like this. Fight against the Problem and only chip away at the immeasurable scale of its extent. This night, you have secured two Sources, stopped two hauntings. But how does this affect the grand scheme of things?

Your head hurts. Best to leave the existential crisis for another day; right now all you need is your soft pillow and the familiar smell of your lavender-detergent. The Problem will still be there once you wake up; it will not ruin those precious hours asleep where you don’t have to worry about anything.

Every apartment has a tiny kitchen and bath adjacent to the living area. A cup of tea before you turn in, and maybe one or two of those chocolate chip biscuit a client gave you last week in appreciation for driving off the Lurker in her basement.

The kitchen looks just like you left it: as though a salt bomb has gone off. There was no time to put away the dishes or give the pan a quick scrub before you left for your shift, and now the leftover burnt bits stick to the dark surface. The half-full cup of coffee has grown cold since the morning, left forgotten. You’re too tired to clean up. It’ll have to wait until you wake up, or maybe even after the next shift.

You consider throwing your head back and screaming for a second when all of a sudden an intense hate for this apartment geysers up and threatens to swallow you. It is tiny, suffocating. There is nothing personal about this—you could disappear from the world and it would just become someone else’s responsibility and property. Nothing would indicate that you left a mark in this place.

Putting the kettle on the stove, you pick out your favourite mug with a broken handle—Kipps’s fault when he knocked it off the table a couple months back—and return to the living room. Your coat smells of burnt fabric from ectoplasm. The agency is very strict when it comes to appearance and representing Rotwell's splendid work ethic, so replacing it will put another dent in your account, but that is still better than going through the same trouble as last month when you appeared with a chocolate smudge on your jacket and every supervisor spotting you gave you hell for it.

Half-shrugged out of your coat, you walk back, past the closed window.

And stop.

Slowly, you turn. Only your own reflection stares back at you—wide-eyed and dishevelled from today. There’s a dark patch on your shoulder where ectoplasm has eaten like acid through the fabric of your coat. The lock is latched firmly on the inside, the metal clip winking at you under the Tiffany lamp’s reflection. Suddenly, everything depends on how still you are against the moving world.

Where did you leave your rapier? Ah, inside the umbrella rack back in the hallway. What’s the closest bludgeon weapon you can get your hands on? Only an empty Pringles can, yesterday’s dinner.

In the window’s reflection, the dark patch on your shoulder rises, distorts. Grows a head. Even with the room plunged into silence, your heart beats rabbit-fast and you hold your breath to keep from making a sound. Just this once, you’re thankful you were running late this morning and didn’t have time to clean up the leftover breakfast on your office desk that stands against the wall. Not even five steps separate you from the blunt silver knife glinting under the lamp with specks of dried jam on its blade.

The shadow behind you grows bulky shoulders and broad arms. When it steps onto the small area just a little to the right from the entrance, the wood creaks.

The world jerks back into motion.

You lunge for the knife on the table when a hard body slams into yours. You crash against the wardrobe, your head hitting the hard wood with a loud crack. The room spins as all air is knocked out of your lungs. You notice a blurry shadow rising in front of you, and your body moves on autopilot—rolls to the right and falls to the ground just in time to dodge a fist punching a hole into the wardrobe.

Nauseating headache throbs like lightning flashes in the back of your head as you scramble back to your feet, wheezing from the pain spreading through your body from the impact. Your rapier. You need your rapier.

Wood splinters when your attacker draws his hand back. He is almost two heads taller than you, completely clad in black. Even his face hides behind a ski mask. All you see are two pinpricks of unfathomably dark eyes as though this man has gazed into an abyss and the abyss has gazed right back at him.

He doesn’t move for a second, stands as though frozen on the spot. Only his hand flexes, relaxes. Clenches. Silver glints off his gloved knuckles. He is here with one intention only: to hurt you.

You don’t have time to ask why. His legs are longer; he closes the distance between you with two long steps, swings his arm towards your face. You spin and fling yourself over the backrest of the sofa, bounce off its cushions and jump to your feet on the other side. With furniture between you and the intruder, you finally force yourself to take in deep breaths. Think.

The smell coming off of him. You recognise it. Grainy, woody with a fruity note. The sweetness you picked up earlier this night must have been caramel. Alcohol.

“Look, if this is about me bumping into your table earlier at the Green Goose, you could just ask for a proper apology,” you press out between gritted teeth. Your whole body feels like a giant bruise, sore and laden from exhaustion.

Every step he takes around the couch, you mirror until it becomes a dance of bodies and mind to see who gives in first; who slows down and loses focus.

At first you believe the noise to be your frantic breathing—or his rattling wheeze, but then you pick it up. A rough, scratchy voice.

“Dickey … need … dickey …”

Your muscles are so taut you fear they might snap any second. Another circle around your couch you go. “What? I don’t—I don’t know what that is.”

“The … the key,” he repeats, louder this time. “I need the key.”

“Key? What key?” You feel the gnawing urge to squeeze your eyes shut against the vertigo of this situation. “I don’t have a key—”

The memory flies back so fast it nearly knocks you out like an incoming brick. Bronze, small, resting within the cushions of a small seal. Disappearing into the deep pockets of a black coat. The echo of death and violence still sticking to your fingers even through the fabric of your gloves.

You round the couch again and stop, the desk at your back. The knife is just in reach. “I don’t have that key.”

“I saw it. He gave it to you. You have no idea how important it is to us.” His voice rises to a snarl, the quality rougher than satin scratching over bark.

“He never gave—” Another memory hurtles your way—it is a wonder you don’t pass out from a concussion. The candy. It is still inside your pocket, suddenly heavier than a stone.

Everything makes sense now.

You take a step back towards the table. “You’ve got it all wrong,” you say, your words tumbling over themselves in their haste to get out, “I don’t have the key, and I don’t know where it is. I’ve got nothing to do with it.”

“LIES!” he hollers, and punches the backrest of your couch. The loud thud is like a gunshut, and you move, whirl around and grab for the knife—and completely misjudge where it is. Instead, your hand slaps on the dirty plate.

It could be worse.

Heavy steps thump behind you. You grab the plate, turn and hurl it at the man. It slams into him, shattering into thousand pieces.

You fly past him, towards the hallway and umbrella rack where your rapier is waiting. Stretching your hand out, your fingers brush against the silver handle—

A hard grip catches the end of your trenchcoat, yanking you back. The blow comes out of nowhere, slamming into your face so hard you see stars. Your back teeth clang together. Black dots dance before your eyes and blur your vision as pain radiates from your cheek. Something sharp and hard slides across your knees, slicing the fabric of your jeans clean in half.

Fingers curling, tightening their hold around the familiar hilt, you turn and draw back your arm, and let it snap forward like a snake lashing out and sinking its venomous teeth into its prey.

The silver-tipped edge of your rapier drives into the man’s shoulder and he cries out in pain, staggers back—and takes your rapier with him. He curls his gloved fingers around the thin blade and yanks the tip out of his shoulder, throwing your weapon to the ground where it lies useless and completely out of reach.

He reaches into a side pocket and draws a jagged, razor-sharp knife.

On second thought, maybe you should just run.

You bolt for the hallway once more, this time aiming straight for the door. The sound of a fast-moving object sailing towards you—something moving quickly and swiftly and with enough force to slice the air in half—makes you throw yourself forward, just in time to dodge the glinting edge nipping your hair.

You yank at the handle, letting white light spill into the apartment from the outside hallway.

Two thinks happen at once.

You wrench the door open and squeeze through the narrow gab. The man behind you slams bodily into the door and you hear a pained groan. At the same time, something sharp cuts through your trenchcoat and jacket. Searing-hot pain explodes in your left side.

You manage to push through and shut the door with a loud slam. A second bang shakes the door; he must have run into it again trying to chase after you.

Hot pain radiates from your side. You grit your teeth hard enough your jaw hurts and follow along the hallway all the way back to the foyer.

When you reach the night guard’s office, there is nobody inside. As if this night couldn’t turn even worse. A small glass bottle lies disturbed on the table, spreading yellow nail polish like spilt blood on its surface. The girl must have knocked it over, now gone to fetch a cleaner.

Great.

You throw yourself under the table and disappear from sight; somewhere on the first floor a door slams shut.

There has to be a way out. A way to draw attention; a way to drive him away. As your eyes rake across the room to find something, anything, they land on a red button behind a small glass window. The ghost-alarm in case of hauntings inside the dorms.

You crawl out from under the desk and scurry across the room, heart beating in your throat. If you turn and he is behind you …

Slamming your fist into the small panel, the button gives away without any resistance.

Sirens blare in the building. More doors slam—opening this time as hundred agents emerge from their rooms. Voices echo from the hallways, drowned by the sprinklers going off and raining salt from the ceiling like little diamonds.

You back into a corner, wide eyes staring at the foyer and counting down the seconds until your attacker enters—any moment, any moment, any moment. Only agents begin to spill into the hall, pale faced, groggy from being rudely awakened after tiring shifts.

With the imminent threat gone, the adrenaline pumping through your body slowly ebbs away—leaving behind bone-deep exhaustion, and mind-numbing pain as though your whole body is one giant bruise.

Your clothes stick to your skin, something warm tickles down your side. You cross the room on wobbling feet, forcing yourself not to look; convincing yourself that it is just coffee, just like a few hours ago when you sat in the booth next to Kipps.

The phone receiver on a corner stand is heavier than you remember. Your fingers move as if possessed, finding the familiar numbers on the dial. It rings. Once, twice.

Tears prick in the back of your eyes as it keeps ringing, your call remaining unanswered. Maybe he hasn’t come home yet. Maybe he is still out. Your throat is dry. You feel like an animal trapped against a corner. Suddenly, everything goes blurry.

Click. Kipps’s tired groan is all you get for a hello.

“Quill,” you choke out. Because despite having to call DEPRAC or maybe an ambulance, Quill Kipps will always be the first you turn to in moments of crisis. “Quill, I might have been stabbed.”

Silence. On the other line, you hear fabric rustling, as though he is crawling out of bed.

“What,” Kipps says, his voice rough from sleep, “the fuck.”

You still don’t know what is so special about the address Kipps has sent you to compared to the hospital or Scotland Yard where you assume they are more qualified to handle your dilemma, but you hope that you arrive soon because the daggers the cab driver keeps throwing at you seem more lethal than the gashing wound in your side.

When he finally stops the car—abruptly enough to launch your body against the frontseat—you rummage through your pockets and empty them completely, leaving a generous tip for bleeding on his car seats.

You barely manage to close the door behind you when he speeds off, leaving a dust trail behind.

The sky is turning cotton pink on the horizon. Dawn spreads light and hope across the city, bright and clear, and very painful for your strained, exhausted eyes. You turn away, taking in your surroundings.

The cab has left you in a residential area at the centre of London where the Victorian semis look like they might belong on old postcards from better times, before the Problem. 35 Portland Row is an inconspicuous, four-level house at the very end of the street. Just like its neighbours, it would not suffer from a new repaint, or maybe just a good clean-up.

A lone shadow sits by the stairs leading into the building, rising when you approach. Kipps looks like you feel: his hair sticks out in all directions and there are half-moons of shadow under his eyes, as if they have been smudged there with coal. He rubs the back of his neck as though that would release all the tension from the last twenty-four hours. Worry is etched deep into his face—worry and guilt, and it is an expression you haven’t seen in a long time. It makes your heart clench, turning it into something small, hard, and cold.

He meets you halfway and catches you when you stumble into him, allowing yourself to be held at last. His hold on you is strong and hard, until you hiss when sharp pain from your wound makes it hard to walk. Kipps’s hold lightens.

“What the hell happened?” he demands, his long fingers gently nudging your head left and right by your chin. You’re pretty sure there is a nasty bruise blooming from the punch.

“Turns out someone out there really wants that bloody key,” you say, unable to put quite the heat into the words like you wanted.

The effect is pretty much the same.

It is like a door slamming shut; his expression closes off completely. He puts your arm around his shoulders and hauls you up the stairs. To your surprise, the door is already unlocked and swings open when he pushes against it with his other shoulder.

You enter into a narrow, dark hallway, only illuminated by light streaming into it from an adjacent room. The house smells of iron and salt, leather coats, and a curious dusty, musty tang. On both sides of the walls hang weird masks and odd curios on shelves. Everything about this entrance screams extravagance, but also something inexplicably homely. The complete opposite from your apartment. Voices sound from the first door to your right, silencing upon the front door clicking shut behind you. Now everything is dead silent.

Kipps leads you past an old, chipped plant pot that functions as an umbrella stand and rapier holder. They are old French models with specks of ectoplasm stuck to blades, and dents in the hilts. One long, black umbrella is bent in the middle as though someone had used it as a weapon and didn’t get around to throw it away.

You emerge into a small, cluttered living area containing a fireplace, an old sofa and a few sturdy armchairs grouped around a coffee table. Heavy dark curtains obscure half of the window where the first streaks of sunlight steal through the gap, showing dust dance in the light.

Three heads swivel your way, all in different states of confusion. You recognise one face.

Anthony Lockwood jumps out of his armchair. It has only been a few hours since you last saw him, and so far he has only taken off his black coat. His white shirt is wrinkled, his black tie thrown over his shoulder. There is something restless about him, like a moth fluttering from flame to flame.

Kipps slides you into the free seat on the sofa right next to a giant pile of crumpled ironing. Shirts, pants, and briefs tumble to the ground as you finally allow yourself to slump into the seat and let your guard down.

The room tilts for a moment. You close your eyes, trying to comprehend today’s events. Multiple voices bombard you from all directions and turn into a pounding headache at the back of your skull.

A metal lid clicks open. Careful hands remove your coat, then lift your shirt where the blood has seeped into the fabric, making it stick to your gashed skin. When your eyes flutter open, Kipps kneels before you on the rug, a deep worry crease slicing through his forehead as he inspects your wound.

“Well, good news. It’s not that deep,” he observes. With swift fingers, calloused from handling rapier and tools, he takes the antiseptic and a clean wipe from the first-aid case—expert hands that are used to medical attention; that know the dance of patching up wounds and tending to injuries. You doubt it is something any agent will forget, even when they have served their duty.

When he applies the disinfect after cleaning the blood, you hiss; your body tenses from the pain. “Cool. I’ll thank him next time I see him,” you say through gritted teeth.

Kipps gives you a curt, quick look—but there is still some relief; relief that even now you can be snippy.

“Did you see his face? What did he look like?” Loockwood asks. He’s leaning over the back of the couch, hand holding onto the backrest hard enough his knuckles turn white.

“I don’t know, I was busy trying not go get turned into a shish kebab.” You kick at Kipps when he dabs the gauze a little too hard into your wound.

“Stop moving,” he warns.

“That didn’t work out much,” a girl’s voice notices drily.

You open your eyes. Behind Lockwood’s shoulder, two agents stare at you, blinking their wide eyes like owls.

The boy’s nose twitches. “She bled on the new rug, Lockwood.”

You feel like an exhibit in a museum. Lucy Carlyle and George Karim. Names only familiar to you because you can’t remember a day where Kipps has not complained about them as much as about Lockwood.

“Yeah, why exactly—am I here?” You shift in the seat. Something is poking you in the back. When you pat the cushion, you find an old, dry biscuit.

Behind Lockwood, Lucy gives George a long, pointed look. Seems like this isn’t the first time they witness someone finding leftover snacks in the crevices of their couch.

“You said he was looking for the key?” Kipps is applying gauze to your clean wound which makes everything just a little better; you begin to feel like a human again. Now all you need is a good, healthy amount of sleep. Preferable for the next three days.

“He thought I had it on me. Said something about … how important it was to them.”

Lockwood perks up. “Who is them?”

“Well, he didn’t give me a list or anything.” You pull out some stray socks from under your bum and let them join their siblings on the ground. Slumping into your seat, you notice it is quite comfortable. You’re sinking into the cushions and there is something calming about the smell of old wood and the heavy curtain’s detergent. “But he was desperate. It seemed like … I don’t know. He’ll be in serious trouble without it.”

“Well, good thing it’s with DEPRAC now,” Kipps says, settling back on his heels after he finishes bandaging you up. The silence hanging in the room is stifling. Kipps looks over the backrest of the sofa at Lockwood. “You did bring it to DEPRAC like we agreed to. Right, Lockwood?”

Slowly, Lockwood leans away from the sofa as though that is the only appropriate measure to take in case Kipps decides to hurl himself over the sofa and strangle him. He has the good manners to look almost contrite. “I might have missed out on the chance to deliver it to Inspector Barnes,” he says slowly. His face is calm and betrays nothing, like the blank statue of a saint in a cathedral.

Kipps is on his feet in an instant. Red patches of rage have broken out over his face and throat. “You lying, conniving piece of—”

Lockwood claps his hands loudly. “This just proves that we cannot let anyone except professionals handle this case. Least of all DEPRAC. Someone’s after it because they know whatever that key unlocks is important.”

“Or he was the Visitor’s killer and he knows it could be evidence,” George points out. “Like Annabelle Ward and Fairfa—”

Lucy slaps her hand over her coworker’s mouth. Her wide eyes stare at him, then pin you down. George blinks, then nods slowly.

You raise your hand. “You know, being the one who got stabbed over this, I veto you let the adults handle it.”

Lockwood gives you a dazzling smile. “Overruled.”

“Let’s sleep on it first,” Lucy says, rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes with her sleeve. “We’ll decide what to do next when we wake up. And yes, leaving it with DEPRAC is still an option.” She looks over at Lockwood, her eyebrows raised. You can’t think of many who manages to make a proposition sound like a threat.

“First reasonable thing I hear any of you say today,” Kipps scoffs. There is still anger in his voice, but you don’t think it is directed at anyone specific this time. This anger smells of frustration. It stems from knowing days like these are in the fine print of becoming an agent. The danger from having to deal with the living from time to time, which can be so much more dangerous than the dead. He turns to you. “Let me drop you off at a hotel.”

“I—” You don’t want to be alone, not after tonight. But Kipps also lives in the Fittes dormitories and they are mercilessly strict when it comes to non-employed visitors, despite being a senior supervisor like Kipps who enjoys some privileges.

“We must assume whoever attacked you might be out there still tracking you,” Lockwood says, and leans forward to settle his elbows against the backrest. His white shit stretches taut over his shoulders and back, catches over his spine. He lowers his dark eyes to you, within which swims a quiet, but solid confidence as though he has never faced a situation he couldn’t handle. It makes you want to rely on him, a thought you quickly push away the moment it steps into your mind. “We have a spare couch in the library you can crash on until morning—” He glances over his shoulder towards the window where sunlight peaks through the heavy curtains. An almost coy smile captures his lips, showing the hint of a dimple. “Until we wake up.”

You raise both eyebrows. “I can?”

Both Lucy and George give Lockwood the sideye. “She can?”

Lockwood frowns. “Unless you have somewhere else to go?”

“A couch sounds perfect.” You are tired enough you wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor. You throw Kipps a quick look. He doesn’t look happy, but even he realises this is better than leaving you all by yourself.

With nobody objecting, George heaves a defeated sigh. “Let me go and pick up the empty chips bags,” he says, and shuffles out of the room. You hear wood creak when he stalks down the hallway.

When you tear your eyes away from where he left through the door, you notice Lucy keeps staring at you with an odd look you can’t place. As though she doesn’t really know what to think of you and why you are suddenly here, only 'here' doesn't seem to apply to the living room of her home. It feels like she doesn't seem to know why you have suddenly stepped into her life. She manoeuvres around Lockwood, painstakingly making sure there’s furniture between you and her.

Kipps is by your side helping you up. He follows Lockwood's directions through the entrance hall. You pass the stairs to the end of the hallway where George is carrying an armful of empty bottles and plastic bags out of what you assume must be the library.

It is a small, oak-panelled room across the hall from the lounge. No light sneaks inside with the heavy curtains shrouding the windows. Up to the ceilings, hardback volumes are crammed into black, heavy shelves that line all four walls. It smells of books and ink and printed paper, making you immediately feel at ease under the dim, warm light of an old standard lamp tucked into a corner.

Kipps makes sure you’re comfortable on the leather couch, throwing a worn, chequered wool blanket over your legs. He looks at you for a long moment. Then he seems to crumple inside, like paper; he sinks down in the leather chair opposite you, and puts his face into his hands. “I should have just told Lockwood No when he asked for someone with Touch. I never wanted you to get involved like this.”

“It’s a little too late for that now, isn’t it?” you state, but there is no malice or accusation in your voice. You are too tired for that.

Still, Kipps makes a sound like a kicked puppy. When you look over at him, you see him pale and slumped down, like someone who’s taken so many blows that the doesn’t want to stand anymore.

Your grab for his hand and squeeze until he returns your gaze. His pale green eyes look haunted. “I don’t think this is anyone’s fault,” you say. “Least of all yours.”

Kipps purses his lips. You squeeze his hand tighter.

“Maybe,” he allows. He scrubs at his face, eyes flitting over the hardcover books surrounding him. You grow drowsy with every steady ticking of an ornate mantel clock above the fireplace. To your side is a small, mahogany Victorian pedestal table with a leftover cup next to a stack of London Society magazines. “Or maybe I should have been more careful,” he continues. “Be more careful. So this doesn’t happen again.”

The fog of sleep that almost takes you is cleanly cut by his words. You blink against the dizzy feeling that tries to pull you under; dragging you down like wet clothes when you swim. You let go of his hand and sit up. “You are not responsible for me,” you say, unable to keep the heat out of your voice now. It comes back full force, scathing and blazing. “I can look after myself perfectly fine, and I would not have you waste your life away because you think you are obliged to protect me.”

“You could barely fend off that attacker by yourself,” he shoots back—his voice strains to remain diplomatic, calm, but this is Quill Kipps, and he has never been capable of putting the lid on the smouldering fire when it comes to your safety. “I made a promise and I mean to keep it until you’re retired and old and stop getting into danger—”

The rage that always lives inside you rears when he says that ugly word—promise. It is an almost physical pain, like nails against flesh.

“You are not my brother,” you snap. “And I don’t want you to be!”

All colour drains from Kipps’s face, then comes back in a rush of angry red as he tries to keep his anger under control. You know a lot about rage. How hard it could be to rein it in without a lifetime of practice. How it could eat you up inside.

He stands, slowly, calmly—and that is so much worse than when he explodes. This is him in his upset mood that you call ‘scary-calm.’ It is a calm that makes you think of the deceptive hard sheen of ice before it cracks under your weight.

“Quill—” you begin, but he is already moving towards the door.

“If I were Matthew,” he says at the threshold, not looking at you, “I would actually be able to protect you.”

It is a blow not meant to be a blow, and yet it drives through your chest like a poison-tipped spear. It stirs up age-old dust from a past you try to bury so hard that now you choke on it.

Matthew. Mat. Mat is gone because of you. And now Quill leaves you too.

You jump to your feet, ignoring the piercing pain in your side and stumble after him. Kipps disappears down the hall, then you hear the front door open, and slam shut.

You close your eyes and bang your head silently against the doorframe. Beneath your gloves your palms are slick with sweat and your fingers shaking. All day you felt like walking on a tightrope, and now a single misplaced step sends you plunging. You have never felt this alone before.

“Do you do that because you enjoy it, or because it feels good when you stop?” says a drawling voice from the corridor outside.

Your eyes pop open. Lockwood is standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister with his arms crossed, an amused look on his face. All tousled dark hair and brown eyes as sharp as glass, he is as tall as Kipps, perhaps taller, and lankier. But their presences are quite different. Where Kipps is calm and steady like stone, reliable like the earth that is always solid under your feet, Lockwood seems bright like a flash of lightning��quick-witted, assured in the path he carves as though the mere thought of something standing in his way is so far-off, he just barrels ahead with no regard of what he sets ablaze.

Any retort dies on your lips when he throws something your away, and you catch the first object mid-air, pulling a face when your wound protests. It is cold and heavy—a pack of ice cubes wrapped in a towel. The second thing hits you in the shoulder and clatters to the ground. A package of painkillers. If you would look up the word Oops in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of Lockwood’s current expression.

You bring the ice pack up and press it against your cheek. “Thanks.”

Lockwood gives a crooked smile. “Plenty of time to figure everything out later. If you need anything, our rooms are just another floor up.”

Your mouth is dry. He isn’t nice because he wants to; he too does it out of an obligation. “OK. Thanks.”

He crams his hands into his pockets, eyes raking from your feet up to your face. It seems as though there is something else Lockwood wants to say, but he decides otherwise and ends up simply nodding before he ducks back towards the kitchen where you can hear the hushed, urgent voices of Lucy and George.

You retreat into the library and shut the door gently. Only the clock’s ticking fills the room now, so loud it is almost grating against your ears. You tug your gloves off gingerly and place them next to the magazines. The skin on your knuckles and the back of your hand is dry like sandpaper. Later this evening, you have to make sure to get your hand lotion.

Ignoring the unpleasant feeling, you lie down and shimmy under the blanket. You tug your hands close to your chest where there is no danger to accidentally touching anything—you know there is no threat from objects belonging to the living, but after almost a decade of experiencing death echoes ranging from mild joy to severe depression, it is soothing to know that the gloves conjure a sense of separation, of safety. Without them, you feel naked and vulnerable.

Just a few hours of sleep. Then you’ll figure out what to do. Maybe you can pretend the whole day didn’t happen—run a few jobs, clean up your room after the attack. Return to normalcy. Return to your day-to-day life before you got roped into Lockwood & Co.’s business and their wayward modus operandi.

You close your eyes and pretend you don’t feel strangely safe listening to the muffled voices coming from the other room.

Something has taken a hold of your legs.

Your stomach roils with panic as you thrash against its grasp, smelling damp soil and rotten leaves—someone is trying to put you under the ground, bury you alive in unholy ground where all hope and virtue is lost, just like—

You jerk free—

—and fall.

The floor is hard and unyielding, slamming you awake on impact. The pain follows right after, radiating from your side to the rest of your body. Groaning, you try to turn to your other side, but with your legs still half-entangled in the blanket, you don’t make it far.

There was a dream. At least you think there was a dream. You can’t remember much, only the smell of rotten soil and copper.

From under the closed door, you see a slim sliver of late afternoon sun peak into the dark room. You lie very still for a moment, even though your back and neck hurt from being curled up on the small couch all night. It is not the foreign place that startles you, but the noises that belong to a lively home: cabinets open and close. Dishes clatter. Water boils. Voices drift through the walls, muffled but heartily warm and bright. It smells of heated butter, herbal tea, and something burnt.

A home. This is a home where people come to wind down after work, to be vulnerable, to pick up the broken pieces after a case.

For just a minute, you close your eyes and imagine this is your life. Your home. This is your room, smelling of books, ink, and candles. Somewhere downstairs a cup smashes into bits, but there is only laughter, bright and cheerful—someone shouts a jolly “Luce!”

You pop your eyes open; the pipe dream dissipates. Your body is a medley of bruises and aches as you get up. Kipps was right, the cut isn’t too deep, you didn’t even bleed through the gauze during the night. You look at the ornate clock hanging above the fireplace. It is past three o’clock. You have to be at Rotwell’s in an hour.

Blinking against the sting in the back of your eyes, you get up and grab your gloves from the small table and your torn, dirty Coat hanging from a chair’s armrest. The fabric stinks of blood and sweat, but there is no time to get back home and change into clean clothes. You can’t get late to work a second time this week.

Your initial plan to just march through the front door and leave doesn’t work out when you pass the open kitchen door. It is a small, cluttered room with a huge table in its centre like a pillar of strength. Several plates with food have been placed down, breakfast served for three people: boiled eggs in cute little eggcups, sandwiches, a fruit bowl, some hot, greasy sausages just out of the pan. There is flatbread and right beside it a plate with small bites like fruits, walnuts, sliced cucumber and radishes.

The agents of Lockwood & Co. coordinate around each other in a way that seems like a practised dance—Lucy swiftly dodges George carrying a plate with doughnuts while Lockwood steps out of her way striding towards the water kettle without even looking.

When she pauses and says something to him, he does that thing you find annoyingly attractive in men: since he’s much taller than Lucy, Lockwood leans down and tilts his head towards her to hear her better. He has a striking side profile, all sharp lines and elegant curves, a pointed jaw.

You see him smile, and grow increasingly annoyed at how effortlessly handsome he is.

George clears his throat, and then all three are staring at you standing in the doorway.

Lockwood’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Hiya.”

Lucy’s mouth twitches into something that hasn’t decided yet if it wants to be a smile or a scowl.

George notices you looking at the food on the table and promptly says, “We don’t own enough dishes for another person.” He calmly closes the cupboard behind him where you see another stack of plates and cups.

“Wasn’t interested. I’m not much into burnt toast,” you say like a liar. George huffs in offence. “I have to go anyway. Work and all that.”

Three heads nod at the same time, a conjoined Hydra.

Remembering you have something like manners, you quickly add, “And thanks for letting me stay.” That should be enough pleasantries. You hastily make your escape through the front door and manage two steps downstairs before you hear footsteps behind you.

“One more thing,” Lockwood says, propping himself against the doorfrome. You wonder if he owns any other piece of clothing other than his white shirts and ties. “Regardless however we proceed with our case, it would be to both our benefits to work out an association. There is no harm in having friends in established circles.” He puts on a smile, one you recognise from meeting him for the first time. Charming, but bashful, he plays coy to try and pull you around his little finger.

So this is how he wants to play it.

You slip into your jacket and smooth down the fabric to appear at least somewhat dignified. “We are not friends, Tony,” you say, and notice with some satisfaction the tick in his jaw whenever someone uses that nickname. “And frankly, if our paths don’t cross anytime soon, I wouldn’t mind. Now, if you excuse me—“ well aware of the ectoplasm stink and the tears in your jacket, you push your shoulder blades together— “we at Rotwell are quite busy with actually solving the Problem instead of playing detective games.”

With a confidence you don’t feel at all, you grant Lockwood one of your sly grins, your usual selling argument whenever you’re wearing your Rotwell armour. Lockwood’s face remains impassive. When you turn, heading out to the main street to get a cab, you feel his eyes burying like a dagger into your gut. In the distance, a church bell rings on the quarter hour, and you try and remember the poem about the bell tolling.

A/N: I cheated a little, the Rotwell dormitories are pretty much the Auriens Chelsea apartment complex. I'll upload a masterlist for this sometime this week to keep things a little more organised.

Taglist: @helpmelmao, @simrah1012, @chloejaniceeee, @fox-bee926, @frogserotonin, @obsessed-female, @avelinageorge, @quacksonhq, @wordsarelife, @bilesxbilinskixlahey, @che-che1, @breadbrobin, @anxiousbeech, @charmingpatronus, @starcrossedluvr, @yourunstablegf, @grccies, @sisyphusmymuse

(Just a heads up, if I can't tag you, it might be because of your settings)

#lockwood show #lockwood books #lockwood & co #l&c #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood x y/n #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co #lockwood reader insert #l&c reader insert

[savywrites]

What about me (JJxsister)

JJ x sister!reader (14 or 15)

Summary: Reader is always helping JJ out whenever he needs it, but what happens when she needs help but he isn't there to return the favor.

Warnings: Verbal and physical Abuse, Angst 

Requests are Open!!

Word count: 1111

Everybody eventually gets to that age when you have to start pulling your own weight around the house. For you and JJ that started a lot earlier than most other kids. From a very young age Luke expected a lot from you both, and if you didn't meet his standards he would show you by taking it out on you. 

Recently you and JJ had both been pretty busy. He was always hanging out with the pogues and other random tourist girls, while you occasionally hung out with the pogues and mainly prioritized work and some school. 

Chores have always been something you and JJ needed to keep up on because you always seemed to fall behind on them. So you two came up with the best solution you could, an evenly divided schedule. Whenever either of you were home you tried to get your chores done as quietly and as quickly as possible hoping to stay out of Luke's way. 

You had just come home from school and knew you were on dish duty and needed to get those done. You knew that JJ was on laundry and needed to get a load started but that was his problem to figure out, not yours. That was until you received a text from him.

JJ: Hey I won't be home in time to do laundry. Can you start a load for me and I'll finish it?

Y/n: Yea no prob. Please be home soon.

So you went on and started the load, hoping he would get home soon to take over. Only he wasn't home soon. He didn’t even come home at all that night. Leaving you alone to finish up his chore and to also have to stay the night with your dad. This was not the only time something like this has happened. You found yourself doing more and more of his own chores than he did himself. This happened a lot more than you would've liked, but you just got through it. Until you needed help and he wasn't there willing to help you.

You were currently at work when your boss had asked you to stay a few extra hours to help out and also get paid more. Of course you said yes because you knew you needed the extra money and because it's not like you had anything better to do. So you texted JJ, but this time asking him for help. 

Y/n: Hey J, can you help me out by taking the trash out and just running the dishwasher. It should be full and ready to run, I just need someone to hit the start button.

JJ: Umm. I'm currently out right now at the beach with the pogues. I'll try and stop by later to do it. 

Y/n: ok just please help me out. 

You had just finished up your extra shift and are on your way home. You were so tired after the day you had with all the crazy customers and just wanted to go to sleep. Only that was not what was waiting for you when you got home. You open the door and there's Luke standing right there waiting for you.

“Y/n your chores are not done!” He spoke to you in a stern voice. You couldn't believe it. You had asked JJ to help you out with them and he couldn't even do that. 

“Oh I'm so sorry I can get those done right now.” You hoped he would accept that and let you walk away only he didn't. He grabbed your arm as hard as he could and pushed you down onto the floor. You had little strength in your from being as tired and strained as you were you couldn't fight back. He punched you in your nose and on your cheek before moving down and giving a few blows to your stomach. You were in so much pain and also felt a strong amount of betrayal. You couldn't believe that he had not helped you out when you needed it, but when he asked for help you always did it. Once Luke was satisfied and left you immediately got up and finished everything that had to get done, after you went into your room, packed a bag, and started making your way over to the chateau.  

You made your way over to the entrance of the chateau and saw JJ sitting there with everyone else. You felt disgusted. You had to show up here with a bloodied nose and bruised cheek while he was here the entire time hanging out with his friends. 

Kiara was the first one to notice you.

“Yo Y/n what happened? Are you alright?” 

You just ignored her and walked inside to go drop your back off then head to the bathroom to clean up.

You heard the footsteps behind you. They belonged to JJ. 

“Oh my God, Y/n what happened? Why are you all beat up?”

“Maybe because the things I asked for help with weren't done and then when I showed up at home I got beat up.”

“Oh shit I forgot” he ran his fingers through his hair already being regretful.

“Oh really? I didn't notice.” You replied sarcastically. You did not have time for this. 

“No you do not get to pull that on me. It is not my fault you didn't and couldn't get your own chores done.” You stared at him with the deadliest glare you've ever given. If looks could kill he would drop dead right now. 

“Excuse me?! Do you know how much I have helped you out recently with your chores while you're off with your friends doing nothing but drinking and smoking?” You were flabbergasted. No way was he getting away with this and blaming it as your own fault. 

“I'm sorry I was working and got put on extra shifts so I could make more money. My bad. Next time let me just not work, then we won't have food or anything we need. Is that better for you?”

“No, I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that. I promise from now on I'll be there and I'll help you out.”

“Good.”

“Yea ok I deserve that” he helped finish cleaning up your nose and cheek then gave you one big bear hug.

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love you too, shorty.”

#jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj!sister #luke maybank #fluff #angst #savywrites

[petitelepus]

FOX’S WEDDING, PART 5

KITSUNE!RENGUKO KYOJURO X FEM!READER

Summary: You have a deep conversation with Senjuro when teaching him to use the washing machine and dryer and one with Kyojuro on your jog together. Wonder happens and you ask something important from Kyojuro.

Warnings: None

A/N: Female Reader, Kitsune Kyojuro, Kitsune Senjuro, Kitsune Rengoku, Monster Musume!AU

PART 1 II PART 2 II PART 3 II PART 4 II PART 5 II PART 6 II PART 7 II PART 8 II PART 9 II PART 10 II PART 11 II PART 12 II PART 13 II PART 14 II PART 15 II PART 16 II PART 17 II PART 18 II PART 19

It had been almost two and half weeks since you moved into your new home with the Rengoku brothers who happened to be Kitsunes, legendary nine-tailed foxes. They came from a traditional Japanese household, but they were getting a hang of the modern world really quickly.

You had to get some new furniture and stuff like curtains, new bedsheets, tables for everyone's rooms, chairs, and bookshelves that the Kitsunes started to slowly fill with things they acquired in the modern world. You? You filled your shelves and such with your books, comics, manga, figurines, and anything geeky or quirky that you had.

As you lived together, you learned to coexist together. Once the brothers had settled in comfortably, Kyojuro and Senjuro started doing their own things.

For example, Kyojuro started to go out jogging each morning after breakfast and Senjuro started to eagerly read books and comics or manga, no matter what kind. You often offered him your collection to explore, but you made sure to hide your naughtier books.

Since you didn't have a proper job, or well, any kind of job, it was up to you to keep the house clean, feed the brothers, and keep them company.

It was after breakfast and Kyojuro was out on his morning jog and you hummed as you went to collect the dirty clothes from the brothers' own rooms. You had bought them both their own laundry baskets and they filled them with dirty clothes as requested so the rest of the rooms would stay clean.

Though, you quickly noticed that the foxes kept their living spaces very clean. For example, they always made sure to make their beds after they woke up and they made sure to throw everything they didn't need or any trash they had into garbage can so you could collect them and get rid of them properly.

It was up to you to do basic cleaning like vacuuming, washing floors, and doing laundry, but you didn't mind. Maybe you were just adopting the role of housewife better than you thought?

You sang quietly under your breath as you made your way downstairs to the utility room, but as you were about to fill the washing machine, someone cleared their throat behind you.

You were startled, yes, but not so badly that you would have jumped out of your skin. You turned and saw Senjuro looking at you.

"Oh, hi Senjuro." You smiled, "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, you can actually." He nodded as he walked next to you and looked at the washing machine, "You promised to teach me how to use these machines. Do you think you can do that now?"

"Of course!" You nodded happily and showed the younger Kitsune how to properly measure the detergent and fabric softener and how to pick the right washing program for different clothes.

"Would you like to try to set it up yourself?" You asked and Senjuro nodded uncertainly, but you continued, "Don't worry, even if something doesn't go right, right away it's not the end of the world. We learn as we do."

The young man nodded and you watched how he measured the right amount of the cleaning chemicals and set the program right. Senjuro swallowed as he pressed the START button and the machine whirred to life.

"I did it...! I actually did it!" The smile that rose to his face could have lit the whole house. You bit your lip, wanting to call him cute, but you held your tongue. Instead, you gave him the thumbs up and grinned, "Perfect, I knew you could do it!"

"Now I can help you with the housework!" He turned to look at you and while you were happy for him, you were also now very confused.

"What- why, I mean, don't I clean well enough?" You asked and Senjuro looked started and quickly shook his head, "N- no, you clean so well, but I just want to be useful somehow!"

"But you don't need to, you're so young and-!"

"Please...? It's all I'm good for..." He looked at you with those big beautiful eyes of his and you almost gave in, but you picked up his words and you sensed that there was more below the surface than you knew.

"Okay, hold on, let's go talk about this over a cup of tea." You said and Senjuro nodded. The two of you went to the kitchen and you quickly made some green tea for the two of you. You doubted that it was as good as Senjuro would make, but it was what it was.

Once you had your cups, you sat on the kitchen table and looked at the young man, "You do know that your brother loves you and I care for you also?"

"I know..." He nodded as he stared at his cup of tea. You frowned, "So... What did you mean when you said that it's all you are good for?"

"I mean... Ever since I was born I have been weak. I'm not strong like my parents or brother." He lifted his gaze from the tea and looked at you sadly.

"I don't have what it takes to become the head of the Rengoku family. Father knows it, mother too, brother also, and me included. All I can do is care for people I love and care about." He admitted and you felt your heart shatter in your chest as you saw the broken expression on Senjuro's face.

"Your brother loves you just as you are." You said and smiled, "I love you as you are. You are like a little brother I never had."

"I know..." Despite the sadness, he must have gotten at least a little happier because after hearing your words he smiled at you, "I love you too, big sis and I just want you and my brother to be happy."

Okay, you hadn't talked much, but what you talked about was obviously a sensitive topic, and you couldn't control yourself anymore. You got up from your seat, and walked around the table, much to Senjuro's confusion until you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him lovingly.

"You are so precious, honestly, you are too pure for this world Senjuro..." You murmured as you gently squeezed him in your arms.

"Thank you..." Senjuro closed his eyes as he hugged you back, "I know you will make my brother so happy."

"Okay, we gotta stop before I start crying with all these feelings!" You cried out and Senjuro chuckled as the two of you pulled apart from the hug.

"Can I be honest?" You asked as you pulled yourself a seat and the young fox nodded, "Of course."

"I know I should marry your brother... But I'm a little scared, honestly." You admitted and blushed, "He is handsome and kind no matter what, I'm not used to being around someone so genuine."

"Brother has always been open about his feelings." Senjuro nodded, "But what are you afraid of?"

"I don't know..." You shrugged, "Maybe he realizes that I'm not the perfect woman that he deserves?"

"You have been nothing but kind and supportive towards us. You took us in even if we were strangers and you have helped us and taught us how to live in the modern world."

"Yes, but most of the thank you belongs to you two. If your brother hadn't chosen me as his bride, I would still be homeless..."

"So, are you afraid that brother would kick you out if he didn't love you more?" Senjuro frowned a little, "He isn't like that."

"I know, I know he isn't like that... I just..." You sighed, "We have been living together almost a month and I haven't done anything to get closer to him, other than making sure that you guys have clean clothes, food, and a tidy house."

"Why don't you join big brother on his morning jogs?" Senjuro suggested.

"I don't want to bother him..." You weren't lying, but you weren't telling the whole truth either. The young fox smiled, "I think he would love it!"

"You think so?" You looked at him and he nodded happily, "I'm absolutely sure."

"Well... Maybe I will do that then!"

"Do what?"

You and Senjuro whipped your heads up and saw Kyojuro standing by the doorway in his red tracksuit. You cleared your throat and looked at your fiance, "I was thinking if you would like some company during your morning jogs? I mean, if you're okay then I could come with you?"

"I would love that!" Kyojuro absolutely beamed in joy and you smiled at the sight of the happy Kitsune. Senjuro smiled as well, "Then, I will prepare breakfast tomorrow morning so you two can sleep a little longer."

"You don't need to do that, I can easily wake up and-!"

"Please?" The young boy looked at you with those pretty eyes of his and you gave in, in a second. "Okay, but you better go to sleep early today then."

"I will!" Senjuro absolutely beamed in joy and you couldn't help but to smile at the sight of two happy Kitsunes, your lukewarm tea long forgotten.

The next morning, you slept a little later and when you woke up you made sure to put on something light for your jog with Kyojuro. When you got downstairs, Senjuro had prepared enough breakfast for all three of you. It was delicious, toast, eggs, and cereal.

You ate your fill and not too much because you wanted to be able to jog without a stomach ache. You and Kyojuro told Senjuro that you would be back soon before you stepped outside.

"Okay, how do we start?" You asked and Kyojuro smiled, "We start with light stretching! It's a good way to get muscles warmed up and it prevents injuries from happening! It should take only 5 minutes!"

"Alright, I'll follow your example." You nodded and the fox grinned as he showed you some basic stretches. Not even 5 minutes had passed and your legs were already aching a little. Should you have been worried?

"Good! Now that we are all warmed up, we can start!" Kyojuro said and you winched, "Okay, but I have to warn you, I'm in really bad shape."

"It can't be that bad!" He laughed and you shook your head, "You haven't seen me run."

"It's a good thing then that we are only jogging!" He smiled, "Let's go!"

And you went. You jogged together a couple of blocks until you made it to this lovely park. Summer was truly a beautiful time, everything was so green and alive... And hot. You were jogging right by Kyojuro's side, but you could tell he was slowing down so you could keep up with him. Finally, you couldn't go on any further.

"Break...!" You whined between breaths, "Need a break...!"

"There is a bench over there, we can sit and rest there!" Kyojuro pointed forwards and you forced yourself to last until you made it to the bench. Once you made it there, you collapsed.

"I'm dying...!" You gasped for air like a fish out of the water while Kyojuro had barely broken a sweat.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asked and you nodded, "Y- yes please..."

Suddenly you felt something cool press against your heated cheek and you opened your eyes to see the man holding a cold bottle of water against your cheek.

"How did you-?"

"I never go far without some water!" He nodded and you accepted the bottle and took a long sip. God, water had never tasted that good. Once you had your fill, you pulled the bottle away from your mouth and gasped for air before looking at your fiance, "Thank you Kyojuro. I think you really saved my life just now."

"You're welcome!" He smiled, "Would you like to rest for a moment?"

"Yes please....!" You absolutely and shamelessly begged. As you tried to get your breathing even, Kyojuro sat next to you and looked at you. You blinked and glanced at him and saw him smiling at you. You frowned, "What, is there something on my face?"

"No, I was just admiring how beautiful you look!" He exclaimed without any shame and you blushed, but you were so hot that you doubted that he could tell.

"You... You charmer...!" You panted for a moment until breathing was effortless for you again. Kyojuro smiled, "How do you feel? Do you want to continue?"

"Can we rest a little more?" You asked and he nodded happily as he made himself comfortable by your side. A minute passed before he looked at you, "I couldn't help but overhear you and Senjuro talking yesterday."

"Ah, sorry!" You yelped and he looked at you, amused, "Why are you apologizing?"

"I- I don't know, it's an old habit." You replied and Kyojuro grinned as he gently grasped your hand and squeezed it in a comforting manner.

"You have nothing to apologize for." He said and you smiled, feeling happy that he seemed to accept that little bad habit of yours, "How much did you hear of us?"

"Enough," He said as he looked aside and stared into space.

"I know Senjuro feels bad for not being strong like me and that he feels like he has let us, me and our parents, down..." Kyojuro looked at you and you were taken aback by how serious he looked despite smiling, "But Senjuro doesn't realize just how strong he really is! He is far stronger than he thinks he is!"

"He is the kindest and sweetest boy I know." You smiled and Kyojuro nodded, "His kindness is his strength and weakness and I won't let anyone use it against him."

"I would never-!"

"I know," Kyojuro smiled at you and you were taken aback by the caring look in his beautiful eyes, "My beloved, words can't begin to describe how happy I am that you, my bride, treat my precious little brother like he was your own brother."

"You heard that too?" You asked and once he nodded you blushed, "Well... I meant every word. Senjuro is very dear to me..."

"I know," He smiled and the two of you looked ahead in comfortable silence. You watched other humans and demihumans pass you by, enjoying the late Summer weather.

"Speaking of brothers..." You murmured suddenly and your fiance looked at you curiously, "Hm?"

"I never told you about my family." You said and looked at Kyojuro, "When we met, you told me so much about yourself and your and Senjuro's family... It should be fair that I finally tell you about mine."

"You don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with." The Kitsune said to you, "I told you what I told you because I trusted you from the moment we met."

"And I trust you." You smiled at him, "I'm the youngest of the three children. My older brothers are twins and my mom and dad have been together ever since they fell in love at their senior year in high school."

"So you have two older brothers?" Kyojuro asked curiously and you nodded, "Yes, they always looked after me when we were younger."

"And your parents?"

"My parents are the best." You smiled as you thought about them, "Kind, accepting, and loving. Mom works in a daycare and dad is a nurse in the local hospital, so they both are very skilled when it comes to kids."

"That is amazing!" Your fiance was amazed, and you were happy also until you smiled sadly, "Dad used to have a drinking problem when we kids were small."

Kyojuro's eyes widened when he heard this. You nodded, "He was under a lot of stress with three kids and long working hours. I don't remember much, but maybe it's better that way."

"I'm..." For once, Kyojuro wasn't smiling. He chose his next words carefully, "I'm sorry to hear that... That must have been awful..."

"Don't worry, as I said, I don't remember much, and maybe that is just the best. I just remember when he stopped drinking he finally became happy."

A silence fell between you two, but not for long.

"I didn't tell you, but our father also drank a lot when our mother fell ill." Kyojuro sighed and you quickly looked at him, startled by his confession.

He nodded, "He was sure she was going to die, so he started grieving beforehand. Mother absolutely hated that, telling father that he was dragging the Rengoku name into the mud with his drinking."

"I'm so sorry Kyojuro..." You frowned, knowing his pain firsthand. He nodded absent-mindedly, "Then mother got better, but he never quite stopped. He has it under control now with our mother monitoring him."

Once again, a silence fell between the two of you. These topics you were talking about weren't something to be taken lightly. Slowly and gently, you reached for his hand that was resting on his thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Kyojuro quickly looked at you and you smiled gently at him.

"We aren't that different, are we?" You thought out loud, "We have more in common than I thought."

Kyojuro looked at you in wonder, before he smiled and he was truly smiling because it reached his beautiful eyes. "I knew you were kind when I fell for you, but I didn't expect myself to fall for you this hard!"

You blushed, but this time you didn't try to hide it or hide the smile that rose to your lips. You were really happy right that moment and you were pretty sure nothing could throw you off.

"Also..." Kyojuro grinned, "You don't need to worry about me ever leaving you. You're the perfect woman for me and I love you."

"Ack, you heard even that part!?" This time the blush on your face was one of embarrassment, but Kyojuro just smiled at you, "My bride is so cute!"

"Oh, hush you!" You averted your gaze, not able to look at the genuine smile on your handsome fiance's face... But his words got you thinking about your relationship and despite acting like a housewife to him, you weren't really acting like lovers.

Yes, you shared these sensitive matters about your families with each other, and it was good for a healthy relationship... That you didn't really have. You wanted to change that. You already liked him and anyone could tell that he liked you. You just needed to take the step to the unknown.

"Kyojuro?"

"Yes, my beloved Hime?"

"Would you like to go out with me?" You blushed as you carefully whispered the next words, "As in a date?"

Kyojuro looked at you and you didn't dare to look at him, but if you had, you would have seen the love in his eyes.

"I would love that." The fox admitted and you finally looked at him, "How does tomorrow sound?"

"Perfect," He nodded and you were so happy, but then he suddenly jumped up like a Jack-in-the-box and stretched his arms and legs, "But now, let's continue our morning jog!"

"Mercy, Kyojuro, show some mercy!" You cried out but despite your whining, you got up on your feet and started to stretch just like he did so that the upcoming jogging wouldn't be as awful as you feared it to be.

"You can do it, my precious bride! I believe in you!" Kyojuro laughed happily and you groaned but followed him either way because you were sure that you could do it when you had him by your side.

#rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #rengoku senjuro #kitsune #nine tailed fox #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #writing #my writing #story #my story #monster musume!AU #monster musume #fem!Reader #reader #reader insert #ENJOY!

[bunni-writing-desk]

Gareth Emerson headcannons :]

just some general and dating headcannons of little drummer boy

{gn reader}

general headcannons

okay, I feel he smells like tree scents generally like his room and hair because he uses tree and woody scented things like candles and bodywash.

but I feel like specifically his clothing smells like that "fresh laundry" scent and prob lavender because that's what his mom uses for washing clothes.

he definitely has a little sister and yes he taught her how to play the drums and yes she's absolutely amazing

I can see his little sister being a fairy loving girl, full fairy princess outfit and totally rocking out on the drums

he's very proud

I feel like his family is just him his sister and his mom, dad left early in Gareth's life.

Gareth got in contact with his dad but turns out Gareth really doesn't want to be in contact with a person who doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself-

moving on from that, I like to think that his mom and Will's mom are best friends since they're both kinda single moms. so yes Gareth does know Will, much like a distant younger brother to him.

he may or may not have found out about dnd because of Will-

he seems like he would try to keep his room as clean as possible but might get angry or overwhelmed at some point and accidentally trash it.

he tries his best tho and we love him for that

definitely the type of nerodivergent to always wear socks no matter what, even if it's fuckin hot out.

has definitely played dress up with his sister and he's not embarrassed about it (except for around Hell Fire of course-)

he likes to draw but never does anything big, just little doodles of things here and there.

he was heart broken when Jason ruined his drum set, his mom had to save up for years to get that for him as a birthday present.

speaking of which, growing up he always talked about wanting to learn the drums and was always making up random beats with objects around his house.

so on his 14th birthday his mom was finally able to get a drum set for him and he still uses it (he managed to get it fixed after Jason broke it + Jason had to pay for some of it)

dating headcannons:

he draws and writes little notes to you and puts them in your locker or hands them to you in between classes.

when he hands them to you personally he has the sweetest smile ever plastered on his face, that smile is so contagious you swear it could the next plague

he loves holding you close to him weather you're watching a movie, cuddling, or just hanging out he feels he needs to hold you close

definitely super protective of you, he wants to fight people when they insult you but realistically he's not the best at fighting

he ends with a lot of bruises from that and his never ending short temper

he has definitely learned songs on his drums that are complicated just to impress you

one time he was preforming one of these complex songs for you and lost grip of his stick which hit you in the head, from then on that song was deemed cursed and he never played it again out of fear.

he, at some point, wants to go camping with you, look at the stars, sit next to a campfire, it sounds a dream to him.

he's a little clingy especially after he loses a fight with someone (it was probably about you)

he'll walk up to you with a bruised face, split lip, and red knuckles and hug you like as if it was normal.

keep a med kit around for him, he'll need it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfiction #gareth emerson #gareth emerson x reader #gareth stranger things #gareth stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #headcanon #headcannons

[cicimunson]

Sweet Child of Mine Part 4

Series Summary: You’re Eddie’s former best best friend. The two of you drifted apart freshman year of high school and now you’re more enemies than anything else. Despite the hostility between the two of you, you still come around to help out with his eleven-month-old sister, Emma, who he and Wayne keep most of the time due to his father being in jail and his mother being an addict.

Also, I know Sweet Child O’ Mine didn’t come out until 1988, but the song is just so perfect for the story.

Characters: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Wayne Munson, OC Emma Munson, Wendy Munson and Greg Thompson

Warnings: Eddie and the reader get into a huge argument (as usual), Eddie is sick and reader takes care of him.

Word Count: 2.k+

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 5|Part 6

Fuck. Fuck.

Eddie sprints through the house, hunting frantically for something clean to wear. He was already late for school and he was supposed to sell some kid a dime bag before the first bell.

"Eddie, it's almost nine a.m." Wayne chides him. "You were supposed to be at school an hour ago."

"I fell asleep before I set my alarm. I had a bad headache. And now I can't find any clean clothes."

"That's weird, Y/N did laundry last night while she was here."

Eddie checks the dryer, nothing. Where did she put my clothes?

Then he sees them. Sitting in the basket in front of the washer, untouched.

She didn't do my laundry? Why didn't she-

The words from your last conversation dawn on him.

I didn't ask you to do my laundry. You act like my girlfriend, it's weird.

He runs back to his room and digs around in his drawers, finding a white t-shirt that's about two sizes too small. He throws it on and sprints out the door, stopping to kiss Emma on the cheek on the way out.

Emma immediately starts fussing as he leaves. Wayne picks her up, patting her back.

"He'll be home before you know it, sweet girl, and then I can get some sleep.”

__________

You stroll into the cafeteria, adjusting your ponytail as you sit down. Your friends greet you, talking excitedly about a party coming up the next weekend.

You're halfway through your sandwich when Eddie walks in. You almost choke as you take in his skin-tight t-shirt, so small on him it looks like a crop top. Even with his jacket and vest on, you can see the lower half of his stomach and his happy trail that disappears into his dark jeans. Your mouth goes dry as your gaze lingers on his belly.

He makes eye contact, points at his shirt, and flips you a bird. You grin mischievously.

"Flirting with the freak?" Greg asks, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

"Don't be ridiculous. I played a little prank on him, that's all."

"That's my girl."

You push his arm off you. "Just because we hung out this weekend doesn't mean we're back together."

His eyes narrow. "Come on, baby. We're perfect for each other. You can't let one indiscretion-"

"Is that what we're calling it now? You getting balls deep in another girl is just a simple indiscretion?"

He grimaces. "You really need to stop hanging with that freak. Your language has gotten so vulgar. He's rubbing off on you."

"Why do you have to bring him up all the time? I told you, I work for his uncle. That's all."

"You two were friends before high school. And you know what they say, old habits die hard."

You roll your eyes and stand up, dumping the rest of your lunch in the trash.

Eddie sees you leaving and hurries after you. You yelp when his hand wraps around your elbow, tugging you into an empty classroom.

"If you're just gonna yell at me-"

"I should do more than that. Are you kidding me, Y/N? You could have at least told me you weren't gonna wash my clothes."

You cross your arms and glare at him. "You told me to stop doing shit for you. So I didn't do your laundry, I didn't tidy up your room, I'm sure you noticed Wayne's lunches are in the fridge, but I didn't make you any."

"You're such a bitch."

"Hey, I'm just doing what you said. You want someone to cook and clean for you? Start paying me. Or find a girlfriend.  Wayne pays me to care for Emma, not you."

"I swear I hate you sometimes."

"That's fine considering I hate you all the time."

You see a flicker of hurt in his eyes. He hides it quickly, standing up straight, squaring his shoulders.

"Forget it. I don't need you to do shit for me. I don't need anyone to do anything for me. I'm used to handling my shit myself." He starts coughing.

"You don't get to guilt trip me for doing what you told me to do! If you were ever nice Eddie, if you ever said thank you, just once-"

"Thank you for what? For what?" He yells, and you flinch. "Thank you for ruining our friendship? Thank you for becoming friends with the people that torment me? Thank you for abandoning me freshman year, when I needed you the most?"

You freeze. So that's what this is all about. That's what it's always been about.

"Eddie, I did not abandon you. My interests changed, yes, but I was here. I tried to be your friend. You pushed me away."

"You were gonna leave me behind!"

"I wouldn't have! I'm not like your mom, Eddie! I care about you!"

He flinches, taking a step back.

Shit. That came out wrong.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

He laughs bitterly. "No, you're right. My mom doesn't give a shit about me. If my own mother doesn't care, why should you?"

"Please, I didn't mean it that way. I would never say that. I wouldn't-"

"You just did."

"I worded it wrong, Eddie, I just meant-"

"Don't. We both know what you meant."

"Eddie. Listen to me." You plead.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled ten dollar bill, slapping it into your palm.

"I don't want your money, Eddie, that's not what this was about. I just wanted some appreciation."

"I'll be home late. So if you can have my clothes done by then, that would be great. Don't worry about tidying up my room or making my lunches, I can handle that on my own."

"Eddie." You start to reach out for him, forgetting yourself. He slaps your hand away, visibly recoiling.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." You apologize, take a few steps back from him. "I won't touch you."

He looks down at you with a pained expression. "Don't. Ever."

"I won't. I'm sorry. I just wanted you to listen to me."

The bell rings and Eddie steps around you, walking out the door and into the hall.

You blink back tears. You'd really fucked up this time. Any chance you and Eddie had of reconciling was done. He really hated you.

__________

You're sitting in Eddie's room, rocking Emma to sleep when you hear him come inside. You lay Emma in her crib and pat her bottom a few times.

You walk into the living room. Eddie is slumped on the couch, eyes closed.

"Emma's asleep. Your clothes are folded on your dresser. There's spaghetti in the fridge."

Eddie groans in response.

You sigh. If he's high or drunk you can't leave Emma alone with him.

"Eddie, take a shower. I'll make you some coffee. You need to sober up."

He shakes his head. "I'm not drunk."

His voice is raspy, crackling as he finishes his sentence.

"High, then, whatever. Come on, get up. I can't leave Emma with you when you're like this."

He lifts his head and you notice how flushed his cheeks are. He's shivering, you realize, as he tries to sit up.

"Eddie, are you okay?"

He coughs, taking a deep breath as he wheezes. "I'm fine."

"You aren't fine. You're obviously sick."

"Said I'm fine." He mumbles.

"Don't be stupid. I'm not leaving you to take care of Emma while you're ill. And I don't want Emma getting sick, either."

"S'not sick." He protests, but lets his head fall back on the couch.

Damn it.

You go into the bathroom and wet a washcloth with cold water, then come back into the living room and lay it over his forehead. He whimpers and tries to knock it off, but you shove his hands away.

"It's cold!" He groans. "So cold."

"You have a fever. We need to cool you down."

You hunt through the house and find some Tylenol and cold medicine. You get a glass of ice water and hurry back to his side.

"Eddie, sit up a little. I need you to take some medicine."

"S'not gonna. I hate it."

"Eddie, don't be a child. You need medicine to get well." You scold. "Now sit up!"

His eyes fly open when you raise your voice. He struggles to sit upright.

You shove two Tylenol in his mouth and hold the glass to his lips. "Swallow. Now."

He does as you say, furrowing his brows.

You measure out the cold medicine and make him swallow it. He gags at the taste.

"Do not throw up." You warn. "Swallow it down."

He scowls at you. "Mean."

"Yeah, well, you'll thank me when you feel better."

"S'will not."

"Yeah, you probably won't." You sigh.

He lays back and tugs the blanket off the back of the couch. You wrestle it away from him.

"Eddie, no, your fever is high. We gotta cool you down."

"I'm cold." He groans, trying to get the blanket back from you.

"You'll be even colder when your temp goes up. Listen to me, please."

He sighs.

You check on Emma, who's thankfully still sleeping peacefully, before rewetting the washcloth and putting it back on Eddie's forehead.

He whimpers but doesn't protest or open his eyes.

You sit on the floor beside the couch, watching him closely. A half hour goes by and he's still red-faced and groaning in his sleep.

You know you have to get some of his clothes off and cool him down. You just aren't sure how to do it without upsetting him.

"Eddie." You say softly. "Could you try to take your jacket off?"

He grunts.

"Eddie." You say louder. "Your temp isn't going down fast enough. We need to get some of these layers off you."

No response.

You sigh. You know he hates being touched and you don't want to violate that boundary. But at the same time you've got to get him cooled down.

You start by slipping his shoes off, then his socks. He mumbles but doesn't try to stop you.

You tug on his shoulders and his eyes shoot open.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You whisper soothingly. "We just need to get this jacket off, okay? I'll stop touching you after we get you stripped down, I promise."

You manage to tug the jacket off without too much of a struggle.

Eddie catches your hand as you start to pull away. You stare down at him, surprised.

"Thank you." He murmurs.

So all I gotta do to get a little appreciation around here is get him sick? Wow.

You don't say that though. You squeeze his fingers, and offer him a warm smile. "You're welcome."

You sit back down on the floor. Eddie rolls on his side toward you.

"Emma-"

"I just checked her. She's fine. Get some sleep, I got you both."

He nods and drifts off.

You watch over him until his fever breaks. You wake him once more to give him more Tylenol, then let him rest.

Eventually you give in to your own fatigue and your head slumps back on the couch as you close your eyes.

That's where Wayne finds the two of you the next morning. He smiles to himself when he sees Eddie gripping your hand.

He checks on Emma before gently shaking your shoulder to wake you.

"Y/N, everything okay? Why are you asleep on the floor?"

You open your eyes. "Hey, Wayne. Eddie was sick last night."

"And you stayed over to take care of him?"

"Someone had to watch Emma, he was in no condition to." You explain. You’d never admit that you stayed for Eddie.

"And yet you're in here on the floor, instead of in the bedroom with Emma." He observes with a knowing smile.

You blush slightly. "I'm gonna go now that you're here. Will you make sure he drinks something every hour or so? And he needs more Tylenol around 9am."

"I will. Thank you for looking after him- I mean, after Emma."

You stand up and start coughing.

Motherfucker.

Tag List: @aedicn @sidthedollface2 @saramelaniemoon @zahra10999 @natasha84 @harrys-tittie @urallidjits @neewtmas @harrystylesandthegoobs @cancankiki

#stranger things eddie #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction

[notsofunsenpai]

Enemies to Lovers?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You guys didn't really like each other,you guys were constantly at each other throats. You would purposely eat his food,make all his white shirts pink by 'accidentally', leaving a pink sock in his laundry, or lock him outside of your shared dorm. Kenji is petty,he would move your chair as you were about to sit down. He blasts his music, especially Prince,he'll purposely ruin your meal by 'accidentally' putting something nasty on it,he'll purposely ruin your homework by pouring water on it or just straight up give you the wrong answer if he knows it,he'll wake you up in the early hours of the morning with the tv as he plays on his xbox or whatever gaming console he has or he'll rat you out to the professor if you are talking or thinking about cheating. You had to be careful. You knew if you got on his bad side, he'll give you hell and what for. You tried to switch dorms, but they said no and told you to suffer basically. Now, here you are, laying wide awake with your pillow over your head,trying to sleep, but your lovely roommate was keeping you up with him chatting up a storm with someone on the phone. He's been talking for hours,glancing at the clock that read three in the morning you had enough. You got up,jumping off of the top bunk,going to the sofa where he sat and grabbing his phone, hanging up on the person.

"Hey! Wasn't done talking!" Kenji glares at you.

"It's three in the morning. Go to sleep,im trying to get my beauty sleep."

"You need more than sleep to make you look ten times better." He retorts,snatching his phone back.

"Excuse me?!" You said, feeling your blood boil.

"You're excuse. "He gives you a smirk.

God is testing your patience with this man.

"Will you fuck off?"

"Nope,i love annyoing you." He then went to the bunk bed,climb up the latter and purposely laid in your spot to piss you off more.

"Hey! That's my spot! Get off!"

"Make me."

You could have just laid in his bed or the couch, but no,you wanted YOUR bed. You knew you weren't strong enough to grab him by his feet and drag him out of bed,so what you did was climb up the latter and try pushing him off.

It didn't end well.

Within five minutes of trying to push him off,he decided to roll over on top of you, then ended up falling asleep pretty quickly. You practically cursed to yourself for not just taking the couch or his bed,you have this idiot on you snoring like a bear. Man,you would rather have him talking for hours than hear him snoring into your ear. You then felt him nuzzle into your neck,which took you by surprised,you didn't even know what to do for a second. Then you felt yourself become grossed out as you felt drool on your neck,god its gonna be a long night.

You managed to fall asleep within an hour or so,Kenji would wake up,groaning in the process. He was thirsty,he's always thirsty but for a different reason, this time he actually needed water. He then also realized he fell asleep on you. He admired how peaceful you looked and had to admit you looked cute like this and not talking back to him. He smiles softly at you,kissing the top of your head as he carefully got off of 'his' bed,basically jumping off the top and landing on his feet. He went to the mini fridge and got him some water,drinking the bottle and then letting out a satisfying gasp. Cold Water hits differently in the morning, when you're craving it. He throws the bottle away in the trash can,he climbed back into your bed,laying next to you,putting the blanket on you and him,wrapping his muscular arm around you as he tells you good night,going back to sleep as well.

He can't wait to annoy you later on♡

#kenjivtuber #hello tumblr #vtuber #no proofreading we die like men #fanfic #sunkenji #virtual youtuber #kenjivt #reader x kenji #vtuber x reader #reader x sunkenji

[onestepbackwards]

Would yandere emmet in the friendzone put in cummies in food or that just an ingo thing? If so what other behaviors does one have that the other doesn't?

Yes, he probably would!

However, there is a slight issue. Emmet is not as good of a cook as Warden Ingo. Warden Ingo had to learn to cook to survive. He knew how to cook before, sure, but being out in the wild, he had to get creative. Emmet though, would need practice. He would spend time learning how to cook specific meals, or even bake certain sweets. He knows if you found out he was putting in ‘a secret ingredient’, you would be sick, horrified, and angry. You would hate him. So he has to do it right. Where with Warden Ingo, he had a natural affinity to cooking, and knowing how to hide his spent. Emmet though, has to work for it. So, he practices. When he finally feels comfortable with a recipe, he then adds his cum. He thinks about how good you’d feel, how you’d look eating his seed. It’s easy to cum at the thoughts running through his head. When you try the dish or dessert, and tell him it’s delicious, Emmet is over the moon. You think he’s happy he did a good job on a new recipe. That’s only partially true, of course. You happily tell him you will taste test anything he tries in the future, if it’s anything as good as what he just gave you! You don’t notice the dark look on his face as you say that. I previously mentioned Emmet was far more bold than Ingo. That is true with almost everything. He is more bold about being physical. He is more bold about talking and hanging out with you. And he is more bold with his dubious and slightly illegal activities. He steals your clothes often. Usually dirty stuff. He knows your laundry schedule. He can get away with taking a thing or two, and returning it by the time you decide to clean your clothes. It’s not just to take your underwear either. He enjoys taking all sorts of clothes. Sure, the underwear is a given, but he is also fond of taking large hoodies at the bottom of your pile, and t-shirts. When he’s at his house, or alone in his room if you share a place, he loves to wear your big hoodies. Even if they are a bit snug, or drape off him. When he wears them, he feels engulfed in your scent, and imagines you hugging him He also loves wearing them to bed. It helps him sleep better. He also loves using your t-shirts as pillowcases, and either hugging said pillow as he sleeps, or humping against it. Usually the latter, though he also enjoys just sleeping on the pillow too on more tiring days. He’s extra careful though! If he fucks himself against a pillow with your shirt on, he makes sure to wear extra layers over his legs, so his cum wont soak through. Sure, it’s not the most comfortable, but he’d rather live in mild discomfort, than ruin something of yours, and risk you finding out what he has done. He also takes any underwear you throw out. He constantly checks your trash, and if he finds an old pair of underwear that is just too worn to keep, he takes it. He also nearly cries if its dirty. The jackpot! He has a piece of intimate clothing, and ruts into it the first chance he gets. Sure, he would rather dirty up your panties or boxers with his cum, and have you wear them, but this would do for now. He also uses your towels. If you share a home, he absolutely reuses towels you already used. He loves knowing that he’s drying himself off with the same thing you did against your naked body. Its a mild turn on for him. He especially loves it is it still has traces of your scent. He is also more willing to get into fights for you, right in front of you. Someone bothering you? He’s already throwing hands. You panic, and later scold him at your home as you patch him up. You are an adult! You can handle yourself just fine! He says he knows, but he will always have your back. No one treats his friends that way! Emmet is protective of you. He also won’t let anyone else have you. If he can’t, no one else can. It’s a trait both twins share, though surprisingly, Ingo is better about taking someone out. Emmet will too, of course. But Emmet has a much funner way of dealing with trash. He will ruin them. He will make them wish they were dead when he’s done. He won’t even have to lift a finger. All it takes is a whisper here, a rumor there. Some fake evidence, or even some real evidence. A few anonymous calls. That person’s life is in shambles with a week. See, they were obviously a predator from the start! It’s a good thing you have your friend Emmet here to have your back, and comfort you in these trying times! You smile through tears. Yeah, you don’t know what you would do without your best friend, keeping an eye out for you. You don’t notice his smile tighten, or the way his eyes darken when he hugs you. No one would try taking you from him. They will face the consequences. And he will enjoy watching them burn to ashes, while he smiles at your side.

#pokemon #submas #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #submas x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #pokemon x reader #yandere ingo #yandere emmet #yandere #yandere pokemon #cw dubcon #cw noncon #spicy stuff🔥 #nsft #smut #ask #anon #zed.writes

[tiktokitssinoclock]

Comforting you after a Breakup- The Valorant Guys (p.I)

For the past few months, I've been talking to a close friend over Snapchat about a guy I like and found out last night she showed him everything I said. He handled it very well and rejected me so sweetly, so I'm not even terribly upset on that front. I'm just really sad someone I trusted would betray me like that. This is very self-serving so my apologies, but writing it has made me feel eons better <3

SFW // Minors and ageless blogs, DNI // You will be blocked

Sova

The poor man thought for sure someone you loved had died

He noticed how every time you left your room, you'd look like a zombie

Hair messy, dark circles to the max, eyes still red and puffy from crying, etc.

When he asks around the protocol to try and figure out what happened, most of the guy agents seemed just as clueless as he was

Your closer lady friends, though, like Jett and Raze, just kinda shook their heads and told him to give you some space

He wasn't a fan of that approach, though, because in his opinion, no one should have to grieve alone

Sova decided to go to your room with a box of tissues and planned to talk to you about it, perhaps also remind you that you're allowed to take a short leave for bereavement if necessary

Although it took some major convincing, you finally let him into your room, the messy state of your usually clean space alarming him

Once you were both seated on the foot of your bed, he offered you the box

“I know dealing with loss is never easy, but you don’t have to hole up alone. We’re always here to listen.”

You blinked in surprise before giving him a watery laugh

You were touched by the gesture but explain that no, no one passed away, you just got broken up with

“Oh. Oh, I thought- I’m so sorry.”

“I still think this was very sweet of you, Sasha. Everything just... kinda sucks right now, you know?”

While he was relieved no one was dead, it still bothered him to see you so upset

He decided right then and there that he was going to help you feel better, starting first by cleaning your room

You initially protested as he walked about with your trash can in tow, picking up the trash he found here and there

By the time he started hanging up the laundry you neglected to even fold, though, you accepted you weren’t shaking him that easily and begrudgingly helped him clean

Afterwards, he had you put on your favorite show and hung out with you, letting you lean into his shoulder when you got a little teary-eyed and stroking his hand soothingly over your hair

Quality time was just what you needed to pull yourself together, and he was willing to give it to you as long as you needed

Yoru

You thought you were doing well at hiding how upset you really were, which was quite the feat

Especially since getting dumped over text really fucking blows

But the other agents weren't clueless, especially Yoru

He noticed how your usual spark seemed to dim- you weren't kicking your feet while sitting in your chair, you weren't animatedly talking to everyone about this and that, the usual banter between him and you during missions had all but dried up

Something was off

He really didn't like that

One night before you could run off to your room right after you finished training, he caught up with you in the hallway

He practically demanded that you spill the beans on whatever was going on, and after a few minutes of pressing, you finally did

You showed him the texts and he scrolled through them, his eyes rolling as he skimmed over the exchange

"Being a dick myself, I can truly say that was a dick move."

“It’s really not that big of a deal, I’ll be fine- hey!”

He steered you both into the common area and plopped you down on the couch, where he wouldn't let you leave until you actually got it all out of your system

It didn’t take long for you to finally cave and do just that

You ended up ranting to him for an ungodly amount of time, going back and forth between being really pissed and really upset

Admittedly though, being able to release all those bottled up emotions felt really good

For the next few weeks, he took to inviting you to the gym at late hours to rough up a punching bag or two

Whether or not you felt the need to speak, he was always there to help you wrap your fists before starting and perfect your technique

Although the outlet seemed to help you get back to your usual self, he still couldn’t shake the growing anger he harbored towards your ex

With each powerful punch you sent into the bag he held steady for you, he had to refrain from taking your ex’s number to Killjoy and getting their exact location

Chamber

No one on the protocol could figure out why, but out of nowhere one night, you took to baking until early in the morning

Not in a peaceful manner, either

You would practically slam dough flat with the rolling pin, ignore the cacophony that the pans and pots made when you were searching through them for a pie tin, fume in an unspoken rage that drained the life out of the kitchen

You weren't one to get mad and, not wanting to piss you off any further, the agents largely tried to stay out of it

Not Chamber, though

Especially when your antics were keeping him awake

He walked into the kitchen when you were being especially noisy one night, finding you trying to scrape burnt cookies off a tray while you cursed under your breath

He pinched his nose and sighed

"What are you doing?"

"Not anything right, that's for sure. First I added too much baking powder, and then I burnt the fucking cookies, and... and..."

You fell silent, your movements slowly growing still

"Dammit. That bastard fucking cheated on me."

His eyes widened at the confession as you finally abandoned the pan in the sink, sitting down at the dining table so you could bury your face in your hands

There were a lot of things going through his mind, namely ‘Who?’, ‘Why?’, and ‘Could Cypher wipe my name from a warrant registry?’ but first and foremost, he pulled up a chair beside you

He got the feeling you didn’t really want to talk about it, at least not yet, so he offered the next best thing

"Do you know how to make madeleines?"

"... Madeleines?"

"I'll show you, if you want. Come."

He spent the rest of the night showing you how to bake the small pastries, helping you take it slow and steady

He even managed to earn a few laughs from you after a mishap with the flour left his glasses coated

He was careful not to breathe a word about your situation, proving to be a welcome, calming distraction you needed as you processed everything you were feeling

The anger pumping in your veins was gradually purged out with the help of his gentle company and after about four days, you finally felt like talking it out

He didn’t once judge you or give any smart remarks, he simply listened and offered advice you actually found useful

The creative insults he sent your ex’s way certainly soothed the burn, too

#valorant imagines #valorant headcanons #valorant sova #sova x reader #valorant yoru #yoru x reader #valorant chamber #chamber x reader

[eliothedud9000]

my silly little episode notes

this was very fun i want to start doing this for every episode

i really liked how family bases this episode was with the closes and stamplers/marlowes

i cant wait until we see the oaks!!

!! SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 45 OF SEASON TWO !!

Episode 45

Oooooo intro

Anthony the penne patriot

Pasta ew the eating sounds wtf

YES THE HEAVEN CRITICISM LOL

WELCOMETODUNGEONSANDDADDIESNOTABDSMPODCAST-

The theme song went on longer than usual..? Not complaining but huh 

Will is having a stroke ig

Taylors fact: Taylor may no longer be a ranger but he misses being able to disguise himself as a trash can and being pushed on a stage

2 1/2 months of the senses???

Mr boss kicks fact: linc’s bathroom regimen revealed!? he puts all his clothes in the laundry and puts on a new pair of clothes every time he goes to the bathroom. ALSO HE DOESNT DO HIS OWN LAUNDRY??

Normal fact abt normal: normal is the FOUNDER of the school yearbook club. A book club about the yearbooks at San Demis high. They had an alumni guest last month. Normal was the only one there. His audience is usually just kids who think its the real yearbook club

Scarys fact: she has a favorite planet which is mercury because mercury has the longest day which means it also has the longest night. The longest time to write poetry and focus on regrets and be sad. (Even tho Venus has the longest day)

HERMIE FACT OMFG: hermie didn’t have a childhood and he was conjured as a freshman with memories of being alive as a child. Not real memories tho. Scam thought it was the funniest part of someone’s life

scam tf??

poor hermie he doesn't even know :(

recap: They need to fill the magic jar with daddy magic to send the doodler back to his own dimension

AND THEY FOUND TERRY FIGHTING WITH GLENN

I MISSED YOU TERRYYYYYYY

Terry is the one who shot nicks arm off and glenn is mad (for a good reason tho-)

Scary is freaked out poor scary

But Terry you messed up buddy

Oh shit is Terry going to die forever

AND HES COUNTING ON IT???? 

Oh shit Terry don’t cry you don’t deserve this- 

AHHHHHH RON AND TERRY REUNION THIS IS SO CUTE SHIT MAN THE HUG OMG

Damn these imps are wild-

Normal you have been exposed…….. release your emotions!!!

Well normal since you’re crying you should put it in the jar-

Scary and Terry omg. Reunion. Reunion. Asdfghgfdgfs

She’s saying it was just a phase oh shit??!?!!!!!!!

Damn

Terry

Terry

Buddy

You don’t deserve this

You dumb suicidal idiot

SCARY AND TERRY OMG ADSFDGFHJGHFGDFHFJG SHES HAPPY TO SEE HIM AND HES HAPPY TO SEE HER AASFDGFHDGFSGFDH

Terry takes the jar omg

No he’s crying :(

Ron?

In a field?

nick has been avoiding them, and they’re trying to be friends again ok

Nick walked out of the brush and into the cleaning

And Ron is…. Talking about his hair…..

Ron you’re going to beef it.

They want to take the people here into hell… thats why he’s upset

Ron wow you are very wise.

I fucking love the stamplers adsfergrtbrgjmt4igjn

“You become the person you choose to be around”

Lark and sparrow and Terry don’t attack him!!!!

:(

Oh shit

TERRY

NO

WHAT ARE YOU DOING

NICK WAS GOING TO TALK TO YOU

FUCK FUCK BADASS SAD FIGHT :(

Unrelated why did I just get a message from someone asking for a picture of myself????

NICKS ARM

OMG

NICCKKKKYYYY

TERRY

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

RUN NICKY RUN

Honestly Terry that’s what you get

Don’t cut someones fucking arm off

“You lied to me kiddo”

Oh no

Ron

“I don’t think you’ve been someone you’d choose to hang around with lately”

TERRY DONT CRY 

AW I FEEL BAD

TERRY ANDF SCARY HUGGING AND SHR HUGS BACK OMG OMG OMGASGDHJTHJFDG

SHE SAW HIM AT HER SOCCER GAME

OMG

IM GONNA CRY

HER BIO DAD WAS NEVER THERE

BUT TERRY WAS

AND HES CRYING LOUDER

OMIGOSH THE STAMPLERS

SORRY STAMPLER/MARLOWES 

HALFWAY JAR

The remaining families are the close and oak

ASDCFVGHBJNKMLJNHY TERRY AND SCARY HOLY SHIT

SCARYYYYYYYYY YOUU SAID I LOVE YOU OMGOMGOGTJHRGJRUJHJVDU HOLY FUCK OFGJGFIDGHJD

IM GONNA CRY ISTG

Glenn stop fighting 

Terrys fine

Chill

“I don’t forgive you for what you did but I get it. I understand” good for you nick

Yes Taylor glenn is the coolest motherfucker

Yikes

Glenn wasn’t there for Taylors birth…

Damn nick is passive aggressive (its deserved tho)

Glenn are you fucking kidding me-

TAYLOR IS BORNED

“You want to cut the umbilical chord dawg?”

Its a chill doctor

Uh oh here comes glenn

And he’s passed out and high as fuck

Great

#1 dad award

“Youre a granddad now-“ “whaaaaaaaatttt”

Aw nick 

That’s so sweet he doesn’t want Taylors first sight of his granddad to be bad

What book is glenn reading?

Jodis been there a bunch of times and glenn hasn’t. What an ass ngl

“Hell yeah bro what a cool kid…” 

The first time glenn has seen himself in the third person

And he sees the reality

OMG CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?????

MY HEART-

Taylor

Omg

You just destroyed nick

Then again obviously he wanted his dad in his life

Too little too late Nicky my man

:(

I just want to hug them all

Fuck

The closes are fucked up

Yikessssss

Taylor did 23 and me and just saw fire and the cops showed up

Nice

Uh oh 

Nick

NICK ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR NOT BEING THERE FOR YOUR KID

DONT BLAME IT ON THE OTHER DADS

YESSSS THEY MESSED UP 

BUT

TAKE RESPONSIBILITY WHERE ITS NEEDED

Taylor wanted his dad for when he was getting his yellow belt at mall karate

And the parents applauded 

And taylor looked to the crowd

His mom is there

But

His dad isn’t there

And another kid got a dad hug and got to get ice cream and poor Taylor got to skip a belt but WHAT ABOUT HIS DAD.

And he gets kicked out from karate 

;-;

YOU SHOULD BE SORRY NICK

“I think you fucked up in the same way too”

GLENN 

SERIOUSLY.

“Where were you nick >:( “ bitch-

Glenn thought that if he kept his distance in hell then he wouldn’t be a bad influence on nick 

Aww

:(

“What if we started over?”

THEY ALL GO TO DISNEYLAND AW

I WOULD LOVE THAT

Taylor doesn’t know what Disneyland is lol

Omg

There is no fixing it

Shit

This is the best its going to get

All these families are so fucked

“Dw thats just the gunfire level…”

“NOPE NOPE THATS NOT THE GUNFIRE LEVEL”

Ew the government :|

OHEMGEE SCHMEGANNN

Wait full control of hell-

OH NO

HOLY SHIT

The background music slaps tho-

Jodi says in morse code: get nick and Taylor out

I like Jodi

Hes a good guy

Oh no

Don’t fire at glenn

“Is glenn immune to bullets?”

NEW KING OF HELL 

LINC 

WHAT

NEW KING??????

NORMAL?????!?!?!?!?!

TAYLOR??!???!?!?

WHO IS IT GOING TO BE???!?!?!??!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?

Hell is locked down and no one is leaving until they have a new leader

And now they are going to fight 

HOLY SHIT

SCHMEGAN

“Only one gets to leave alive”

So overall thoughts…. Good episode. Kinda went by quick tho but could’ve been because I split it up instead just listening to it all in one sitting

After this fight and hell leader thing I feel like will is just gonna drop a bombshell of family angst and problems on us when its time for the oaks to give their daddy magic. 

But Terry and scarys reunion omg 

I was about to cry it was so cute

#dndads spoilers #dungeons and daddies #dndads s2 #dndads #dndaddies #lees shit

[bloopdiddydoop]

My "Getting Your Shit Together One Week Before College Starts" List (in a day)

This is more for me than anyone else but if it helps someone out there that would be nice

Remember that self-love is hard sometimes, it's not about letting yourself indulge in bad habits for temporary relief (at least not all the time) it's about doing the difficult things so that you suffer less in the future<3

Make Coffee

Go for a morning walk and clear your head

Once you get home, change into some comfy cleaning clothes because shits about to get serious

Set up a series or podcast or music to play in the background while you work

DIVIDE AND CONQUER: if your floor is a big huge mess split up the stuff into piles, e.g. stuff that's supposed to be on your desk goes on a pile on your desk, stuff that's supposed to be in your drawers goes in a pile near them

Now if your like me and have a little trash can and you've been too lazy to dump it DO IT NOWW

Make your bed if you haven't already

Organize your closet/drawers put the dirty clothes aside and fold/hang the fresh ones, to make this more fun I recommend making a style Pinterest board so that when you look at your clothes you feel inspired with what you can do with them

Put dirty clothes to wash if you can or in a laundry bag

Go to your desk and organize it, put everything in it's respective place

Dust and Disinfect every surface area in your room

Finish up by sweeping and treating yourself with some downtime you deserve it

I know this won't work for everyone but I really hope it helps having all the steps written out

#girlblogging #collegelife #cleangirl #moodboard #pinterest #fall #autumm #fresh #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #lmao what are these tags #cleaning tips #cleaning room #tips

[jaeminlore]

surface pressure | mark lee

[mark tries to relieve some stress. romance. interior decorating. alt version on ao3 is also mine]

-

It’s not hard to notice that you’re stressed. Mark doesn’t need to be a superhero to notice the bags under your eyes, the tenseness of your shoulders, the way you always do things without being asked. Things that someone else should be doing.

You’ve confessed it to him before, in little fragments when you didn't think it was a huge deal like “My mom expected me to have the house cleaned by the time she got home from work, even though I had a job too.” and “I got sick of staring at my roommates’ dirty dishes so I just did them.”

Mark has always done his best to remind you that it’s not your job to save others from their own doing. But still, you insist, this fear pricking it’s way up your throat that you may be held responsible for the doing of others. And it’s not without reason: you’ve been held responsible before.

Now that the two of you finally have your own place, Mark has done his absolute best to lift the burden, but you’re so damn stubborn. By the time he returns home from his classes or his job, you already have the house clean, and his laundry washed, and for God’s sake you’ll even reorganize the kitchen if you're antsy enough.

This week has been interesting. You and Mark have been in the process of unpacking and decorating. After a Christmas bonus from your boss, you and Mark had purchased new decor for your shared space, so that the two of you could make it your own. See, even with your own money, you spend it partly on someone else.

Mark wants you to be selfish. But he knows there’s not a selfish bone inside of you, so he’s going to have to beat you at your own game.

The house is slightly cluttered with moving boxes, old decor, and the new decor you’ve just bought. Tomorrow is your first day off for the first time in a while, and you’ve casually mentioned to Mark that you’re going to spend it unpacking and cleaning the house.

Mark Lee is going to die before he lets that happen.

He waits until you’ve left for work, and then he’s turning on his favorite 90’s r&b playlist. He labels the boxes, takes his time between organizing what needs to go on shelves and what needs to be sent off for donation. He leaves the decor the two of you had bought in a tidy box on top of the coffee table, because he knows decorating is something you wouldn’t want him to do without you.

He vacuums the rugs, and refills the cat's food bowl. He cleans out the fridge and takes out the trash. There is an entire drawer of candles you’ve picked up, having liked the scents, so Mark picks up one he recalls liking and lights it, setting it on the center of the table. He straightens the placemats (he finds it adorable that you leave the table set every night, even when the two of you usually take your dinners to the couch.)

He wipes down the counter, using minimal products the way you like to. He cleans the toilet. He gathers all the trash in your shared bedroom and makes the bed. He folds the orange throw blanket you got him and sets it on the edge of the bed, so your cat can cuddle against it the way she likes.

When he’s sure you’re on your way home, he orders pizza. He turns on the television and sets your favorite show on pause. He’s so giddy and excited for you to get home, he thinks he could burst.

The house smells of garlic and vanilla when you walk in through the door. You pause in the doorway, bundled so sweetly in your scarf and jacket. You look at the lack of clutter and furrow your brows. “I thought– I thought you worked late today.”

“I took the day off.”

He rushes up to you and helps you take off your jacket, quick to hang it on the hook. Before you can take off your scarf, he grabs the frayed edges and pulls you close to him, so that your forehead presses to his.

You hum warmly. “You’re so sweet, Mark.”

Mark grins, flushed with praise. It's almost embarrassing, how much he likes pleasing you. And yet, he can't find it in himself to change. "I left the decor out so we could decorate tomorrow. I figured you’d rather spend your day off decorating than unpacking.”

Your eyes tear up. You look at the sleeves to see that he’s taken down everything you guys have decided to give away or get rid of. “Mark… You work so hard…”

“No,” Mark swiftly kisses your cheek. “You work hard. And you take on too much. I want you to start leaning on me more, okay? You’re not carrying this alone.”

You nod, shyness washing over you. When you wrap your arms around Mark’s middle, he can feel the tenseness leave your muscles. “Thank you so much.”

“Hush,” he orders. “No more thanking me. Don’t ever think you don’t deserve this, okay? I want to take care of our home. I want to take care of you.”

The two of you eat pizza, and while you watch the tv screen, Mark watches you.

The sweetness of your laugh. The way you munch on your food. Your hair and your clothes and the way you wipe your fingers on a napkin. “C’mere,” he says.

Selfish, he knows, but he interrupts your eating to draw you into his lap. Your weight atop his thighs grounds him like noticing else. He peers up at you, and he knows he’s got that look in his eyes that you always make fun of. You’ve often told him that he looks lovesick, and that’s exactly what he is. He tucks your hair back behind your ears so he can see your face. “You’re incredible. And I know you can do things by yourself, but you don’t have to, okay? Not with me.”

You nod, bowing your head to avert his gaze. “Yeah, I know.”

He holds your face, and rubs his thumb across your jaw. Your eyelids flutter closed. “I’m not fussing at you. Promise. I’m so proud of you, and I’ll be just as proud of you if you take time to rest.”

He pulls your face to his and kisses you sweetly, reveling in the softness of your mouth and the lovely, lovely sounds that escape you. He loves the way you melt against him, the way you trust him to take care of the burdens you’ve held onto for so long. He’s Mark Lee after all, he can handle it.

You tuck your face against his neck, cuddling as close to him as you can. “I love you,” you mumble sleepily.

He kisses your head, feeling accomplished. “I love you more.”

#mark lee fluff #destwrites