#i love doing laundry. i really do. i like listening to the dryer and i am lucky enough

[katierosefun]

putting clothes/sheets in the washer-dryer: good :)

folding and putting clothes away/tucking in sheets: BAD

[appleblueberry-pie]

Yandere House"wife" Satoru x Reader

Call it a happy accident, the way Satoru transitioned from being a full-time sorcerer to being the man you come home to after he does domestic chores all day. You two talked about it for a little while. There was a time when Satoru would come home late at night almost every day. And he would wind down, take a shower, crawl into the bed into your arms and just pour out his heart to you. He would say he hates his job. He hates how repetitive these days were becoming. Meetings upon meetings in the morning, and then having to exercise curses that never stood a chance for the next 6 hours. You soothed him, of course. Or at least as much as you could.

Then you proposed that maybe he starts taking days off. So you'll go to work and he'll stay home to heal his mind as much as he needs to. He would do anything for you, so of course he tries it out just to make you happy. And a few rest days turned into a few weeks. A few weeks turned into a couple of months. You don't remember the last time Satoru went to work by now, his phone blowing up every day from the people and job he kind of abandoned. He didn't care anymore.

He realized that he was happiest doing these mundane and very human tasks every day. And his motivation to keep going was just you. If he was bored, he would do the laundry that was full. I mean, the washer and dryer was just down the hall, why not? Washed the few dishes in the sink. Maybe he'll stop by the store to restock the fridge. You recognized how much of a....housewife he was being when he would retell his daily tasks to you before you two went to bed. "Oh, so I've got a little housewife now?" The neurons in his brain crackled when he heard that word escape your mouth.

Housewife

You raised your eyebrow when you watched him whisper the word underneath his breath. "You alright?" No, he wasn't. Well, he felt fantastic at the thought of his only purpose being his favorite person's provider and nothing else. But other than that, not really. He shamelessly enjoys having that title over his head. So he decides to play the part.

In the morning, he'll wake up before you, stare at your beautiful face for around 10 minutes before getting up to prepare your lunch and make you breakfast. NO, he can't cook. But he does know how to follow instructions. You wrote him some recipes you loved and he takes extra care to follow every single step to the exact measurements that you want. And when you smile at the breakfast, or make that sigh of relief, his heart jumps. Want more coffee? Do you want tea instead? He could pour you a flask of hot coffee before you go. And don't forget your lunch, either. He had fun making the panda shaped molds of rice.

And when you give your kiss goodbye and he finishes begging you to stay for a mandatory 5 minutes, he begins cleaning up the kitchen. He washes the dishes and clears the laundry if there's any. Mops the bathroom and cleans the tub, toilet bowl, and sink until they're sparkly and clean. Vacuums carpets and turns on a humidifier with your favorite scent lightly wafting throughout the place. Though he usually does this 20 minutes before you come back home so the smell is fresh in your brain when you walk in the door. He checks off the grocery list, visits a few people from his hitlist that he knows either hooked up with you in the past, broke up with you, or just tried to fuck with you in general. Sold a few organs from said people from the hitlist's bodies and goes back home to clean himself up and relax.

Relax meaning checking your location every five minutes, doing a mandatory 10 minute phone call on your lunch break to either try and persuade you to skip the rest of the work day to come back home, have phone sex(you talk him through his orgasm), or just let you talk and he'll listen. After the phone call, he'll eat his first meal of the day. He knows you don't like when he doesn't take care of himself, so he eats as much as his big heart desires. Which usually consists of your scraps of breakfast and dinner that you don't finish, so it feels like you two are bonding over the same meal(even though you aren't there). He does like eating with you and next to you, but it just feels more intimate when you two eat from the same plate. By the end of his meal, he's usually rock hard and close to tears at the fact that you won't be here to help him get off again for the next few hours.

So, he takes a cold shower(or two, if it's serious(and when I say "two" I mean he hops in, finishes, and then has to go back because it rises again with a vengeance)). And after his cold shower, he goes to the gym and does his weight resistance training. He knows you love every part of his body and his beautifully sculpted muscles(your words), so he takes good care of them. Then if he has free time, he'll watch some tv, pop up at Jujutsu Tech to piss everyone off for a few minutes, buy some sweets and desserts you two can share and then go back home to take a nap.

He wakes up about 30 minutes before you come back home so he can cook dinner. You told him you wouldn't mind having something "simple" tonight. And if he thinks carefully, this could mean anything from a boiled stew to TV dinner. Based off of your tone and how you said this sentence, he'll assume you wouldn't want something crazy to eat, so he actually buys some deli sandwiches from a shop not too far away. And when you got home, had Satoru take your coat, shoes, and jacket, you told him you were actually excited to eat. "It's been a while since we went there, huh? Oh, it's still warm!" The bread was toasted the way you liked and everything in between.

You were so lucky to have this man take care of you. You told him you loved him and if there was anything he wanted in return for his hard efforts to keep you happy, you'd do it. He shyly shook his head, a small blush overcoming his soft cheeks. He finished eating his sandwich before you and you noticed how silent he went. You softly grabbed his hand and he immediately looked up at you in question. "You alright? You're being quiet." You raise your hand from his hand to wipe a bread crumb from the corner of his mouth. "Yeah......actually, no. I just miss being able to grab your ass every second of the day, because your job doesn't allow your boyfriend into the building."

"Satoru, you know I can't take work off, I have to take care of us." Satoru flails and grabs your hand. "But babe, you know I have enough money to buy us 16 houses! You don't need to work!" You roll your eyes. "Well, I don't want to be in the house all day rotting away."

"We can rot together." "No!" He's a romantic at heart. He stands to walk off at your rejection and you grab his hand to pull him back. "Baby, you know I didn't mean it like that." "But.....you said we can't rot together...." "I know, but we can just be here right now and enjoy each other. We have all night and even some time in the morning. Right?" He sighs at your words and nod. ".........why are you hard?"

"Because you noticed I was quiet." You roll your eyes. He was also an attention seeker. How could you forget. "Really?" He nods. This time, you sigh, and you walk over to the living room couch, patting your lap. Satoru happily bounces over and plops down his weight on you. "Oof!" Sitting sideways on your lap, you caress his back with one hand and palm his hard on through his jeans with the other. His body immediately relaxes underneath your touch, and you smile up at him. "My baby has been working so hard today, hm?" He nods and stares at your hand. "I'm glad you're being productive. What did you do today, Satoru?"

"Today, I cleaned up the kitchen and did the laundry.." You unbutton his pants when he starts talking. But before you pull them down, you pause. "And what else?" He realizes what you're trying to do and swallows stressfully. He just wants you to take care of him. "And I mopped in the kitchen and the bathroom. I vacuumed, too." You pull his pants down enough to pull out his rock hard cock. It was warm and heavy in your hand, the tip straining with the blood swollen up to it. It was red and glistening with pre, threatening to drip down.

You gently wrapped your hand around him, slowly jerking him up and down, and a whimper slips out his lips. "Come on, baby, keep talking." He grabs your arm that's holding his cock and grabs at the couch with his other. "Um...I also........that's it." He cuts himself off, and his eyelids flutter shut when you put a little more pressure onto your hold, your thumb swiping over his tip.

"Hm? Are you sure?" You know he cut himself off. Which only means he's hiding something from you. He nods his head in response, and you let go of him. He whines at the cold that surrounds him now and looks at you. "Whyy???" "I don't know, baby, I think you're lying to me." You give him a look of fake concern, and your hand instead travels south to very gently fondle his sack, which immediately gets him to squirm.

"I'm not!!" You scrunch your eyebrows. "Are you??" He goes silent, and you stare him deep into his eyes. He can't reciprocate the eye contact and stares at your hand. You stop touching him, and he looks back up at you with sad, glistening puppy eyes. "I went through the list." Your eyebrows shoot up before you start scolding him. "The list??? I thought I told you to get rid of that thing? Satoru." When you first moved in with one another, you found his hit list full of people you used to talk to. He planned to kill them off one by one to have you to himself. You never truly got mad at him for it, because most of those people on the list genuinely were big pieces of shits that you wanted to burn in hell.....but technically it still wasn't okay for him to just do that behind your back.

"No, please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just-" you lightly push him off of your lap, which was basically his equivalent of being shoved off of a cliff and his heart drops when you stand up. "NO! No. Wait, baby, please. Let me make it up to you. Please don't leave me like this." He trips onto his knees but still makes record speed in crawling over to you. He grabs your closest leg and hugs it tightly. You could feel his cock(which was still out) rub against your pant leg. So dramatic, you think.

You look down at him, and he stares up at you with those stupid big blue eyes. "......" He takes your silence as his que to convince you. "I can make it better, look!" He shifts in front of you, still on his knees, and begins to unbutton and pull your pants down. You lose balance and stumble back into the dining table behind you, using it for balance as Satoru yanks down down your pants, his eyes staring at the goal.

"Satoru, what the hell are you doing?" Funny enough, your words contradict your actions, and you instinctually spread your legs farther apart for him to have more space in between. He grabs your legs and places them on top of his shoulders, and you scoot back onto the dining table for more comfort, cups and silverware clinking as you clumsily push them back.

"I can help like this." He pushes his tongue as far as he can past your lips, getting a strong first taste at your pussy. A firm and slow stripe from your hole up to your clit and you hiss, gripping onto the table. Satoru moans loudly and closes his eyes to enjoy himself as much as possible. He shifts impossibly closer to you, hugging your thighs to both sides of his face to be buried deep and makes out with your sensitive bud. You could feel him occasionally exhale his warm breath onto you before firmly flicking his tongue onto you again.

You begin whining at the waves of pleasure crashing down on you. Drool and your essence cover Satoru's chin. His cock twitches endlessly against the hardwood floor, more of his pre dripping onto it the more he gets you to moan. "Get up." His eyes snap open, and he pulls away to look up at you. Your fingers dig into his scalp, and you pull him up, earning a wince from him. He knows what you want and leans in to let you taste yourself on his tongue. In the middle of the kiss, he suddenly flinches at the feeling of your hand once again grabbing his cock. You separate the kiss and his gaze trails down to your pussy.

You took his cock head and pressed it in between your lips, rubbing it up and down against your entrance. Your eyes seemed to glisten in a way he hadn't seen in a long time and you maintained eye contact, whispering to him. "You gonna be a good boy and fuck me how I taught you?" Each word that slipped out of your lips was enough to make him insane, and he was ready to do whatever you commanded. He robotically nods and you laugh at his reaction.

You press a soft kiss to his chin, letting him spread your legs on top of the table. He softly spreads your lips and makes eye contact with your hole. Heat radiates from you and he soaks up every last bit of it. All he can see, think of, and hear is you. "Beautiful." He whispers underneath his breath. You caress his arm to snap him out of his mind and he leans down closer to you, his head now pressing to your entrance gently. "Please show me." And he takes it upon himself to shower you with the affection you deserve in hopes to satisfy you again.

Did I cook????? Cuz I feel like I wrote this way too fast.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #48 - Stress Relief]

"When Jungkook is there for you in stressful times."

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: she is stressed :') bless her, he is the cutest hubby ever, i want what she has tbfh, he is also such a funny dork PLEASE

Wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: i wanna be her hfdshf i am :( big sad :( i miss Kookie so much :(

Jungkook lifts his head, following you with his eyes. This is the second time you let out a loud sigh. He stays silent for now, feeling out the situation. 

You walk past him, heading straight to the kitchen without paying him any mind. You stay there a little under a minute then come back. 

Another sigh. 

Jungkook furrows his brows and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, you are already gone again. Out of the living room and down the hallway. 

He pauses his show and leaves the couch, looking for you.

One loud sigh is nothing, two might be a coincidence, but three? Three are a pattern. Mix it with you basically being blind to his presence and something is taking up your mind. Jungkook can’t relax when he knows that you are burdened by something. 

The door to the cellar is open, the lights are on. Jungkook jogs down the stairs, following the trail of lights you left on. He ends up in the laundry room, but even that is empty. The washing machine is half emptied, the dryer half-filled. Abandoning a load of laundry is not like you at all. Jungkook grows worried. Something must really upset you.

A fourth loud sigh and the dragging of your slippers lets him know that you are coming back. 

“Ah!” you startle, stumbling back with such vigour that you almost trip.

“Careful”, he gasps, catching you with two strong hands on your hips, “sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

“Why are you here? You can’t just appear without warning”, you snap at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think that I’d scare you”, he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You accept it half-heartedly because then you are already out of his gentle hold to hurry to the washer.

“It’s fine”, you dismiss him, working hastily to unload and load the laundry. You sigh again as you do it.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“You don’t sound good.”

“No, I’m good”, you assure him and finally start the dryer. You pick up a stack of magazines and hurry past him to the stairs. 

Jungkook follows you. You are basically running. This isn’t like you at all. Every movement you make is quick and hastily, you seem to do two tasks at once all the time and you barely want to catch your breath. 

Upstairs, you abandon the magazines to pick up some of Bam’s toys, only to drop them halfway to their basket because you remember the magazines and hurry back to them. 

Jungkook catches you in the middle of it, resting his hands on your shoulders. He rubs circles on your clothed skin, looking at you in a mixture of worry and seriousness.

“Slow down for a moment”, he tells you.

You gawk at him.

“Breathe”, he says, caressing your cheeks softly, “just take a deep breath with me.”

You breathe with him. Breathe again. And a third time. By the fourth deep breath, you let your shoulders sag. Jungkook rubs them instantly, looking at you with adoring yet worried eyes.

“What’s wrong, my love?” he asks.

“I’m so stressed”, you finally confess, “I have so much to do and it’s not getting any less.”

Jungkook listens to you intently, never breaking eye contact so you really feel heard. He also hums and nods his head to really assure you that you are listened to. 

“If I think about all the stuff I have to do at the restaurant tomorrow I might cry, then I have all the things still on the fridge list I need to do and there’s already so much more I need to add to the list. I forgot to do laundry and I need to clean Bam’s toys and plan tomorrow’s dinner and I haven’t even had a snack yet and I need to pee and-” you stop yourself having to fight for air shakily.

“Hey my baby, it’s okay”, Jungkook tells you and hugs you against his chest, rubbing the back of your head gently, “I’m here now.”

“I wanna cry. I have so much to do, but I’m so exhausted”, you mumble into him, feeling too tired to hug him back even if you really wanted to. He smells so good. Like home and comfort.

“God baby, I understand. I’m so sorry you feel this way. I can help, you don’t have to do everything alone.”

“But…they’re my tasks. You have your own shit to get through.”

“Shut up, as if I’m not gonna wanna help when I see you struggling just ‘cause they’re your tasks. I don’t care, when my wifey needs a second pair of hands, I’ll be there.”

You snicker into his chest, finally finding the strength to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Wifey”, you repeat.

"Yeah, wifey. That’s you”, he squeezes you softly, “my wifey.”

You giggle. Jungkook smiles at the sound of it, rubbing your back aggressively but with care. 

“I can’t stand seeing you like this”, he says through gritted teeth, but with a playful tone. He is acting all aggressive right now to make you laugh and it really works. He is so gentle even when he is being rough that his cute antics really cheer you up. 

You put some distance between you and him so you could look at him.

“Thank you”, you say, cupping his cheeks, “you have no idea how much I need the help today.”

“Don’t even mention it, sweetie”, Jungkook assures you, kissing your forehead, “now, you’re gonna go pee and I’m gonna make you a snack. Deal?”

“Yeah, deal. Thank you, seriously.”

“Less talking, more peeing. Go, go”, he sends you away with a soft pat to your butt, making you laugh with it.

Jungkook soaks up the sound with a good feeling in his chest. Hearing your laugh instead of your tired sighs is the best change ever. Once you are out of sight, he turns and get to work. He’s got toys to store away and newspapers to sort through.

Bam’s toys are stored in the basket when you come back from the toilet, the magazines are gone as well. Seeing two of your endless tasks already done, really lifts a ton of weight from you. With your steps feeling easier, you make your way to the kitchen, hoping to find your husband.

Just as you had hoped, your cutie of a husband is in the kitchen, doing the finishing touches to your snack. He hasn’t heard you come in yet, back turned to the door.

You back hug him. Jungkook turns in your arms instantly, hugging you against him without using his hands. They are dirty from cooking. Instead, he uses his wrists to rub your back.

“Hey there, sweetie.”

“Hey pookie”, you mumble into him and let out a deep breath. It was filled with relief.

“Did you have a good pee?” he asks, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, it felt so freeing.”

“That’s good to hear. You shouldn’t hold it in, it’s bad for you.”

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t wanna make time today.”

“I get you, I’m sorry my sweetie.”

“Mhm, thankies. What are you making?”

“Apple with peanut butter and crackers with spicy tuna. You need the healthy fats and energy.”

“I really do. The snacks sound so good.”

“They’re almost done. Sit down, I’ll bring them to you.”

You wait on the couch, staring at the scene Jungkook paused his show at. You don’t actually take anything in, however. You are completely and utterly zoned out. Now that Jungkook made you slow down for your own sake, your body is finally starting to give up on you. You feel so tired. Working a ten hour shift and then spending four hours at home doing too many chores is finally paying its tribute. You are so exhausted that even focusing your eyes feels like too much work. 

“There you go, sweetie. The snacks”, Jungkook soon joins you, placing the snacks on the coffee table. He pulls it closer to you so you wouldn’t have to get up, then places himself behind you. 

He massages your shoulders and neck, including your head as well. 

“Wow, this is so good”, you gush, closing your eyes. You rest your head against his stomach, relaxing your muscles. 

“Anything where it hurts the most?” 

“My right shoulder. It gives me a headache, it’s so bad that I hear ringing in my ear.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. Does that help?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Of course, anything you need. You know, I’ve been thinking and Imma make pizza tomorrow.”

“But-”, you try to look back at him, but he stops you with a gentle nudge.

“No buts, you are struggling with dinner planning and I wanna help. You’ll just cook dinner this weekend. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay. So pizza it is?”

“Yeah and the snacks are so good too”, you sniffle, “it’s so good.”

“I’m happy to hear that, my sweetie. Eat as much as you want to.”

You go to bed feeling a lot less on edge, but still with too much stress in your body to make you uneasy. You can’t fall asleep because there are still a million things running through your head. You keep repeating what you need to do, what you should have done with the occasional question in between about whether you had done something. 

Jungkook is currently coming out of the bathroom, giving you a sweet smile. 

“You’re looking cozy.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?” he gasps, increasing his steps to get to you quicker.

“I still feel stressed, there is so much pressure in my chest. I want something heavy to push it out of me, seriously.”

“Mhm, that’s not good then”, Jungkook says and drags you to the middle of the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Attention!” he says sternly.

“What are you doing?” you repeat yourself in a chuckle.

“Weighted blanket mode activated!” he says and stretches his arms out so he could blob onto your chest.

“Koo”, you squeal, shielding yourself but the impact never comes.

He catches himself before he can really crash down, lowering himself the last few inches gently. He lies horizontal to your chin and with his tummy on your chest, letting some of his weight rest on you.

“Oh god, you dork”, you laugh, throwing your arms over his waist.

“Is this helping?” he mumbles into the sheets.

“More.”

“Understood. Heavy blanket mode activation in three, two, one”, he speaks in a funny almost trill sergeant like voice and relaxes completely.

He forces a deep breath out of you this way, a sound follows as well. It carried so much relief in it.

You close your eyes. The pressure finally stops. He is so heavy on your chest and it finally feels as if you can handle all the stress thrown at you. He is truly the best weighted blanket ever.

“Better?” he asks, glancing at you through his bangs.

“Yeah”, you sigh and sniffle, “Koo, I’m gonna cry. You treat me so well.”

“Course I do. You’re my wifey and my sweetie. You can cry if you want to. It helps with stress sometimes.”

“I think I, I actually might”, you say and then start sobbing. Jungkook lets it happen, rubbing your arm so you wouldn’t feel alone. It upsets him to see you cry, but he knows that you need it right now. This isn’t a cry of sadness, this is a cry of emotional relief. Sometimes too much builds up and just needs to leave the body. His weight was finally the thing which made it happen, which allowed you to find the kind of relief your stressed little heart needed. He is just glad that he can be there for you as it happens and that you can lean on him. It also helps him feel less upset to feel you touch him innocently as you cry. It’s honestly a little cute to witness your hand give his buttocks repeated stress squeezes as you sob and sniffle. 

When those sniffles become more and more and the sobs less and less, he finally changes position to hug you, kissing the tears away.

“You’re so strong, my sweetie”, he speaks softly, “mhhhm I’m so proud of you, baby.” 

“Oh god, I feel so light again”, you say, snuggling into him, “thank you so much.”

“I’m just happy that I could help. God baby, tomorrow’s gonna be better I promise. You’ll get pizza for dinner and I can do the ironing ‘cause I only work half day. Tomorrow’s gonna be better, I promise.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

The best thing about your marriage is that you will always have each other’s back. He will give a hundred and ten when you can only give a weak ten. And in return, there are times where you will give a hundred and ten while he barely manages to get to a ten. Days like these exist, but the nice thing about them is that you won’t ever have to go through them alone. You have each other to rely on. You always will.

[cas-readsandwrites]

Lavender: Interludes

Set in Jackson post TLOU S1 in the Lavender universe by @justagalwhowrites, a few little scenes of Joel, Doc, and the fam in Jackson. Listen I am not pregnant, I have no desire to be pregnant, so I don't know WHERE this came from, but I love soft Joel healing from his trauma and finding love and joy in his family! Content: Reader is described as pregnant. There is smut. And fluff. And love. Grab some ice cream and your heating pads if you're in the same time of the month as me. Minors DNI. 3.6k words

I am not quiet about the fact that Lavender is one of my favorite fanfics, in my two decades popping in and out of various fandoms. Doc and Joel are my distraction and angst and comfort when I need it. Sometimes my imagination runs a little wild.... many many thanks to Kit for creating these characters and being totally cool with the fact that I wrote a little fanfic of her fanfic :D So here we go!

~~~

Joel had walked into the house late one evening, after patrol had gone long and he had to wait to give report to the next crew going out. He was extra antsy and wanted to get home, now more than ever. This was his last patrol for the next several months, as he would not need to leave the walls of the town during the last month of your pregnancy and hopefully not for a month or two afterwards. He would be put on extra shifts on guard duty or with the carpenter crew, but as long as he was within a quick run down the street or an ear-shot of someone yelling for him with news of you, he was fine with that. 

Anyway, when he had come home, you had been standing in the middle of the living room, seemingly all the sheets and blankets from the house around you and stacked in a laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs. All of the glasses and mugs were sitting out drying on the counter, as well as the few baby bottles you had brought home from the clinic (just in case you had said, hopeful that you would be able to breastfeed). All of the lights were still on upstairs. 

“Baby,” he said, matter-of-factly, “what the hell are you doin’?”

You spun around, holding a fitted sheet in your hands, fresh from the laundry line outside. The town was encouraged to use the communal laundry whenever possible, to limit wear and tear on the machines in the houses, but understandably many families had middle-of-the-night unexpected messes or heavy loads that they would do at home if the mechanicals still worked. The dryer in their house was still inconsistent, as much as Joel took it apart and banged on it and put it back together, it gave them a few good spins before shuddering to a halt again. Thankfully Tommy and Maria’s across the street was still functional, adding to the growing list of ways that he felt like he was in… well, a commune, with his brother as their lives and households continually overlapped, something he suspected would only increase after the baby was born.

“I think I’m nesting,” you answered back, looking around at the piles of fabric and wiggling your fingers in the sheets. “It seemed like a good idea to have all the linens clean, and then I was hand-washing some things in the kitchen, so it seemed like a good idea to clean off some of the dishes and things we haven’t really used, they were kind of dusty and I didn’t want it getting in the bottles…” you trailed off and sighed. “Ok, it looks ridiculous, but trust me, it needed to be done!” 

Joel wasn’t about to fight you on that, as much as he worried about your health and safety in what he viewed as an extra-fragile state, it seemed like you had come even more alive with an extra vivacity throughout your pregnancy. Even when you were throwing up, or cranky with hormones, you were even more feisty. Which was saying something, considering all the times you had verbally sparred back in Boston, along the road to Jackson, even back when you were taking care of yourself and your grandmother all alone. “Ok, well… can I help you?” he asked. “Seems like you got it in hand, but please don’t tell me you’ve been carrying laundry around all day.” 

You waved your hands again, corners of the sheet scrunching around your fingers. “Ellie put up with me for a while and did the heavy lifting with the wet things. She wanted to go out for the evening, though, so it’s just been me and the folded piles tonight.” You looked around as you tucked the corners across and into each other, neatly snapping the sheet and folding the edges in. “I guess if you can take these all back up into the closet upstairs, then it will be mostly done.” 

You looked around at the folded pile in the basket, mentally cataloguing your task, before seeming to snap out of it and look back at him. “But you just got home! I’m so sorry, blame my brain for being wired towards this.” You waded through the piles and threw yourself into his arms, even with your stomach grown with his baby, still fitting in just right where he could wrap around your shoulders and your back and you could lean into that space against his chest. Joel ran his hand up and down your back, around your side, warm palm against the place where your child grew. You hummed as he kissed the top of your head, centering himself as he always did when coming home on your scent and the warm gravity of you in his arms. 

“Why don’t you go up to bed?” he murmured against your temple. “I’ll get the rest of this. You’ve been on your feet a lot. Please go lay down? I’d love to just… be with you tonight.” You nodded, tipping your head back to kiss him. He anchored himself to you, the press of your lips against his. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” you said, squeezing him again before stepping away and looking around at the living room before walking upstairs.

They had been in this house for several months, well-established in Jackson, but he couldn’t shake the nighttime routines yet, circling the first floor of the house, checking that the exits were clear, locked, lights off, locking his rifle in the downstairs closet, keeping his sidearm in the nightstand next to his side of the bed. He heard you moving around the bathroom and treading the hallway into the bedroom. Thankfully, Ellie came home not too soon after as he was finished folding. She shrugged and tilted her head with an eyebrow raised in a nonverbal I don’t know, man, it wasn’t my idea. He handed her the basket and wordlessly gestured up the stairs. She just as silently tilted her forehead against his arm as she passed in a greeting and good-night, and they trooped up the stairs together. “Good night, Ellie!” he heard you call across the hall.

He showered, washing off the road and sweat, before climbing in bed behind you, already nested in your structure of pillows. “Mmmf,” you murmured, nestling back into his chest. He traced the line of the back of your neck with one hand and looped his arm around your front, resting on your stomach. You traced the back of his hand with your fingers in the dark. It didn’t seem to take much, even at this stage in your pregnancy, and soon you were bringing his hand below the slope of your stomach to that place between your legs that seemed so much more sensitive nowadays. 

“Baby,” he murmured in your ear, “you gonna be ok? Don’t want to hurt you…”

You moaned quietly as his fingertips traced your clit, leading down to your center, tracing your entrance and just dipping inside. You gasped and tilted your hips, moving your leg to open that space for him. “Please, Joel,” you breathed, trying to be quiet, mindful of Ellie down the hall. “I trust you, I know you won’t hurt me, I want to feel you, please…”

He kissed the space below your ear, the scratch of his beard tickling the back of your shoulder. “Don’t gotta beg for me, sweetheart, always gonna give you what you need.”

Urged by your own hand, he felt the wetness from your entrance already, dipping his fingers in to coat them, coming back to your clit, warm and aching. It didn’t take long for the pressure from his fingers, alternating between circling and lightly pressing on your sensitive areas, before he felt you throbbing, heard your tiny gasps as you tugged on the corner of your pillow, thrusting your hips back into his as he brought you to your edge. Even after months of your reassurance that you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, had never done so, and you still obviously wanted him, he waited for your cues. He tried to ignore his hardening cock, but your thrust backwards had nestled him into the soft flesh of your ass, so warm and delightfully more from pregnancy, and he couldn't help as he rocked against you. Even as you came down, you pushed his hand back towards your center, hitching your top leg up to rest on his, reaching behind for his hip, holding him close.

He ran his hand down your leg, gripping your thigh against him as he moved to push himself against you, the heat and wetness from your center drawing him in. He lined the tip of him with your center, your body grasping to pull him in, as if promises over decades and the proof of your love growing inside you weren’t enough. He stopped only long enough to ask, “this ok, baby? You feel alright?” 

You whimpered, tilting your head back towards him, and he ran his nose along what he could reach of your jaw, kissing the side of your neck, breathing against the edge of your ear. “Feels so good, please, don’t stop,” you whispered, rocking just so the tip of him slid in. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of you around him, pressed against him, as he slid inside you from behind. You bit your lip to stop from crying out, rocking back into him with abandon. He had to focus to stop from coming immediately - how could he not, the softness of the most round, plush parts of you pressed against his body and in his hands, your warmth even more enveloping. He focused instead on the lines of your body, kissing your shoulder, gripping your hip as he thrust in and out, syncing with the rocking of your hips. His hand slipped around your front to the top of your legs again, circling and rubbing against your clit. You were so lost in your pleasure, grasping at the blanket in front of you, and he wanted this to last as long as you needed. Unable to see your face or kiss you, giving himself into your body wherever you would take him, he used his words instead, punctuated by his own groans and pleasure. Words of praise and promise, your beauty, the sensation of your body, goddess that you were, holding both himself and your child together deep inside yourself. 

-finally, “oh, fuck, there you go baby, I can feel you, so ready, come on-” and you turned your face down into your pillow, breathing heavily, as your body fairly shook with your orgasm, clenching and rippling around him, and he held on tight and rode it out with you, thrusting up once, twice, one more time until he felt himself come apart deeply and at home in your body. 

The two of you lay together in the tangle of blankets and blankets, now kicked down around your legs and askew around you, his chest heaving with deep breaths against yours. He felt you melt into the mattress. After a moment he checked himself, not wanting you to need to move, and cautiously lifted an arm to brace himself against the mattress. You made a little noise and tilted your head back against him again. He reach in front of you and sat partway up, leaning over you to kiss you at an angle, reassuring you, and himself that you were still alright, that he hadn’t hurt you or pushed you too much in some way that he would have no way of knowing about, his memories of the only other pregnant woman in his life so far distant and embroiled in its own tinge of sadness and self-doubt that none of it was to be trusted. Only you, here, your daughter for all intents and purposes down the hall, the solidity of this house, was what he could count on. 

He kissed you again and nuzzled against your forehead. “Lay down, baby, I got you. Need anything?” he felt you shake your head and settled against your pillow. He smiled. You often had a hard time falling asleep and staying asleep as you advanced in your pregnancy, but something about the release of sex would turn you into goo and put you to sleep afterwards almost right away. 

He carefully sat all the way up, leaning over you to reset your pillows where you liked them, against the pressure of your knees, hips and belly supported against the mattress, under your arm, one against the small of your back. When you were tucked in and covered, he quietly stepped down the hall to fill your glass of water and set it down next to you, checking again the lights outside and the door to Ellie’s room, before sliding carefully back in behind you. Not able to get as close through your fortress of pillows, he rested an arm along your hip, breathing in the scent of your hair that always seemed to end up draped across his pillow.

He heard you sigh and shuffle, and was about to ask what else you needed, before you spoke quietly, through the cloud of sleep he knew was almost ready to carry you off. “I love you,” you murmured into the soft darkness of the bedroom. He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead on the space between your shoulderblades, just behind your heart. “Love you so much, baby,” he whispered, squeezing your hip, before sleep claimed you both. 

~~~

Joel and Tommy watched as you and Maria talked in the living room of Tommy and Maria’s house after dinner, while they stood in the doorway of the kitchen drinking whiskey, judiciously keeping the scent of alcohol away from your pregnant self and Maria’s breastfeeding. Well, Tommy was watching Joel as Joel watched you shuffle on the couch, gently positioning yourself to rest your lower back. “She doin’ ok?” Tommy asked, trying to catch Joel’s eye. 

Joel glanced over at his brother like he was unaware they were even in a conversation together. “Oh- yeah. She said her legs and back are starting to get real tired. Tried telling her to rest more, but you know her, says moving is actually better and she doesn’t want to leave the clinic yet.”

Tommy nodded, knowing this brand of his sister-in-law’s stubbornness and resilient streak. “You ever try doin’ the thing where you stand behind her and lift up her stomach?”

Now Joel was really looking at his brother. “What?” he asked. They didn’t really… talk girls. Joel did his best when Tommy was growing up to have The Talk (that went pretty well, living embodiment of the consequences of Joel’s actions usually screaming in her high chair in the background of those conversations when Tommy would be headed out the door to pick up yet another date) as well as trying to make sure his brother was generally a respectful and polite person to a partner, but other than that, they didn’t really talk about the ins and outs of each other’s relationships. Until you. Even way back when, yours and Joel’s relationship had been more real, more recognized, tangible, than most other things in his life.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, “you know, like you’re gonna hug her from behind or somethin?” He demonstrated in the air in front of him. “Get your arms around her and under her stomach, towards the bottom, where Maria always said was the most sore because it was heavy, stretching out some muscles, and just-” he linked his fingers together, glass carefully balanced in one bear-paw of a hand- “hup.” He demonstrated gently lifting a beach ball in front of him.

Joel watched his brother looking like he was trying to hula hoop in the middle of his kitchen. “Sure it doesn’t hurt her?” Tommy laughed and patted his brother on his arm. “Be gentle, man. Naw, Maria loved it. Would have walked around behind her for the whole last month for her if I could’ve.” Joel nodded, regretting already the time he missed in his brother’s life, refusing to accept his new marriage to Maria, blocking out the thoughts of his brother becoming a father, when all his brother had done for him was to step into Joel’s own life and take on Joel’s burdens as his own. By the time Joel and his girls had made it back to Jackson, several months had passed and Maria had already given birth. 

Tommy patted his arm again. “She knows you’d do anything for her. Maria and I will, too. Need a babysitter or an extra hand when it’s time, just holler.” He gestured with his glass towards their window that overlooked the street, across which your home with Joel was softly illuminated by the front door light, waiting for you to come home. You caught Tommy’s movement out of the corner of your eye, looking up and smiling at your husband and your brother-in-law together again, as they should be.

The next day, you were walking slowly around the house while getting ready for a shift at the clinic. You were still the only doctor in town, though they had gained a few additional staff that, while not quite trained as well as you’d hoped nurses would be, were improving as medical assistants and able to triage and take histories and help with physical exams. One of the more senior nurses who had been in town for a while had taken on the heavier medical work before you had arrived. She had taken to your education and you had recently “graduated” her from your unofficial training and dubbed her a nurse practitioner, only needing to sign off with you on certain types of cases. The extra help meant that at least you could sit more and slow your pace to see a few less patients, but for now you said your brain and your energy were fine, and you weren’t going to let a few bodyaches get in the way of being present for the people who needed the knowledge that only you had. 

Joel watched as you stood in front of your dresser, choosing which top to go over your precious few pairs of pants they had found to be modified with a maternity band. You sighed and rested your hands on the small of your back, leaning just so, trying to stretch - well, everything. 

Joel begrudgingly remembered his brother’s words, knowing he was going to be eating shit for a while, Tommy being more of an expert in the “pregnancy and infancy caregiver in the apocalypse” duties. Joel still had him beat in the teenager department at least. For now, though, he walked up behind you to kiss your temple, slipping his arms around you as he often did to trace the contours of your body, holding your hips or placing a palm to feel the baby.

“Wish you would call it at the clinic, baby, I really do,” he murmured. 

“I know,” you sighed, “not yet, though. My mind feels fine. I’m taking it as easy as I can there, I promise, and you know I’m in the right place if I need anything.” You looked down at his hands gently circling your stomach. “I know by now it’s useless to ask you to not worry, but please, take it easy on yourself, too,” you said, placing your hand on his.

Joel wanted to bury his face in your hair, carry you to bed, hold on to you and rub your feet and bring you tea for the next four weeks. He didn’t deserve you, mindful as you were towards his worries and the health of the entire town. “You’re askin’ for the impossible, babe, you know that.” 

You laughed lightly. “I know. I can try. At least I didn’t leverage doctor’s orders this time.” You tilted your head back, resting on his chest. “I’ll take a few more days, keep making some plans with the staff, and see how I feel later this week. ‘kay?”

“ ‘kay,” he echoed. You moved to step forward and reach for a dresser drawer again, but Joel followed and gently tugged you back against him. You opened your mouth to softly protest - you did need to get moving, after all - but Joel slid his hands firmly under your stomach, warm and sturdy, and without even realizing what was happening, you felt the pressure in his hands increase and a blessed lightness spread across the top of your hips and your pelvic muscles. 

Joel leaned back just slightly, the weight of your belly in his hands, and he heard you make a noise he had never even heard you make in bed. “Oh God,” you groaned, drawing it out in a soft sigh. “I didn't even realize how much that- please don't move, I just want to stay-” you let your arms drop, thoughts of a shirt vanishing as you let yourself be cradled in this temporary, bodily gravity defying relief. 

Joel wanted to chuckle at your words, but the deep instinct to simultaneously protect you while bringing you so close, around him, be inside you, kicked up again. He could only rest his forehead on the crown of your head, remind himself that you were here and whole and healthy, and marvel at your innate strength and abundant spirit to allow your body to be changed for him and for your family. He would always strive to be worthy of you, he knew that now. For now, that meant standing quietly in your home together, swaying gently, holding you and your child, your whole universe in his hands.

[twig-tea]

Water Bottles in the Fridge as a Relationship Metaphor [Eps 5 and 6 of LITBC]

I sobbed after finishing Episodes 5 and 6 of Love in the Big City and I have been trying to find the words to articulate why but they aren't coming. So instead I'm going to talk about this relationship, focusing on the image that stuck strongest in my mind: The water bottles. [No book spoilers, this is all just reaction to the series].

After Gyu Ho moves in, Yeong comes home from a really draining day at work late because he's been writing in a cafe, only to passive-aggressively spray the drying laundry to mask the smell and stare at the empty shelf in the fridge where their stash of water bottles should be. He goes to his laptop to write more of his novel, while Gyu Ho behind him puts the laundry in the dryer and fills up the fridge with water. There are at least two other times when Gyu Ho fills up the fridge with water after one of their fights; the other one that stood out to me was Gyu Ho putting water in the fridge after coming home with his suitcase rather than moving out/leaving permanently. That relatively small but repeated chore stuck with me as an embodiment of Gyu Ho's tip-toeing that Yeong mentions in his voiceover.

If you've ever lived with anyone else, you know how the tiniest things can become massive irritants, especially when you are depressed or stressed, but it's true anytime. And you also know that those massive irritants do not mean you love them any less. I was blown away by how well these episodes, especially episode 6, captured a long term relationship's ups, downs, and mundanity. The palpable tension between Yeong and Gyu Ho, mixed with the easy dissipation of that tension and back to life as normal, radiated from the screen. Even when they fight, like in the cafe where Yeong is writing, they are fighting about how they want good things for each other. They just have different ideas about what that looks like and how they get there. I loved the tiny moments like Yeong, frustrated after the fight, walking home and hearing a stranger cuss out a cat, and smiling to himself because it reminded him of the 'Crabby Tabby' nickname Gyu Ho gave him.

[This is a bit of a sidenote, but the difference between Yeong Su's 'I'm moving to New York, did you think what we had was love?' and Gyu Ho's 'Come to Shanghai with me, I won't go without you' is so massive it's still sitting with me days later.]

It's clear that they're both trying, and at the same time, that they both are holding or held back. Gyu Ho is not a pushover and does hold his own in these arguments, and does make his mark on the space by e.g. putting up curtains, but he keeps backing down in the end; and Yeong continues to keep him at arms length even after trusting him with his biggest secret and deepest shame, and even after inviting him to live together. It's clear that sharing knowledge of Kylie does not free Yeong from shame about her. He asks Gyu Ho multiple times where he sees him as 'dirty', and Gyu Ho's response that he's the dirtiest joke is, I think, a loving attempt to say no in a way that Yeong can hear.

The scene on the train to the airport near the end of the episode captured their dynamic perfectly; Gyu Ho is willing to stand in order to spend time with Yeong, and Yeong is unwilling to let him. And Yeong is fundamentally correct that the circumstances of their lives (especially his life, with Kylie) mean that he would be holding Gyu Ho back, and Gyu Ho in the end makes the choice to listen and leave Yeong when he's told to rather than continue to fight him on it.

Yeong noticed and got annoyed by the water shelf not being refilled one time, And Gyu Ho filled it every time since, even when he was furious and barely wanted to be there at all. And Yeong noticed, but didn't know what to do about it, the same way he noticed how Gyu Ho always slept silently, and would constantly check his breathing (and even made snoring noises to himself to fill the silence), and took that as a sign that Gyu Ho did not feel safe or fully settled. He was unclear how much his own behaviour vs. Gyu Ho's personality were to blame:

"I wonder why you sleep in utter silence, like you're constantly on tip-toes. As if you're never home, no matter how long you've lived here. Is that my fault? Or is it your fault? Or maybe it's simply an inevitability."

I think it's the fact that these two love each other so much, and were both so reasonable and tried so hard, still could not make things work, and how fucking unfair it all feels, that made me sob. I don't know that I'll find better words than that.

[polakina]

how they show you they love you

call of duty headcanons #7

hc masterlist // masterlist

finished shadow and bone today...for the fourth time of watching it...i still miss it :(

rating: explicit

-

quality time and physical touch

likes to be near you all the time

preferably with a hand on you, even a tamed one

hand resting on your thigh in the car, palm on your lower back walking through town, stroking your shin while your legs rest over his lap on the sofa when you're watching a movie

always feels calmer when he's near you

never likes to do things alone. even simple things like cooking or tidying the house

finds much more enjoyment in doing it with you

his favourite thing to do is to cook with you

likes to be the taster for new concoctions you've created

leaves you in charge of the music, often using the spare time between cooking to dance in the kitchen with you

if you go out on an idle shopping trip, or even just to pick up a package, he's often following you out of the door to join you

even if you say you'll only be five minutes, he's still grabbing his jacket

brings his work into the living room, his laptop, his paperwork, everything

will sit beside you while you read or work and keep you company

is a domestic partner at heart

doesn't feel like physical touch has to always be of the sexual nature

his favourite way to wind down is to have you led on his chest, while his fingers drift through your hair

its calming, for the both of you

often times, it sends you to sleep in minutes, but it calms him, makes him forget about the stress he'd endured during the day

acts of service

he never asks if you need help, not really, but if he notices you struggling with something, he's there in a second to help you

if you mention you're running low on something, it somehow appears the next day

he's very intuitive. somehow, you don't know how and you don't plan on asking, but he's figured out your cycle

every month, a day or two before your period starts, the bathroom is restocked with sanitary products, the kitchen is stocked with your favourite snacks, and the medicine cabinet is loaded with everything to ease your monthly pain

he always woke before you, knowing you hated early mornings, but he knew exactly when you'd wake up in a morning

it was always the same time

so there was always a coffee waiting on the bedside table, still hot when you opened your eyes

and he knew you hated doing the laundry, but you loved taking it out of the dryer, so he'd make sure there was half an hour after you woke up before the dryer finished its cycle

he knew your favourite smell was freshly dried linen

liked to help, with anything

felt sort of prideful if you came to him with something

even just a knot in the laces of your shoes, he looked indifferent as he silently took your shoe and meticulously undid the knot, but he had a little glow in his chest when he handed it back to you

gift giving

goes out of his way to bring you something back after every deployment

whether its something he's found at a local market that he'd knew you'd like, or even something he'd picked up walking back to your shared home

your house was filled with flowers, sea shells, funny shaped rocks. all of that he'd pocketed while walking to get groceries or found while mowing the lawn

you always told him he never had to get you anything, but as always he never listened

it was his way of showing his love, so you stopped questioning it after a while

if he had to leave suddenly, without time to say goodbye, you'd find a note on the bedside table held down by a gift

sometimes it was jewellery, sometimes it was a flower, it was always different

his favourite thing to do with you was to take you to the markets

they came through your town every few months, and you could smell the food vendors from your bedroom window

soap kept an eye on whatever tickled your fancy, he'd learned to figure out which things caught your eye over others

your gaze always flickered back to certain objects, your fingers running over the things you liked most

he waited until you'd moved on to another stall before paying the seller and pocketing the gift for later

words of affirmation

doesn't shut up about you, ever

you've walked downstairs in your pajamas and wet hair from the shower and he's still said that you looked adorable

always compliments you, on anything you do

in the early stages of your relationship, you thought what he was saying was an act

something to get you in his car and back to his place

it wasn't that simple, but there was always that little part of your brain nagging that he was putting on a facade when he complimented you

after a while, a long while, you realised that that was just who he was

he never had a bad word to say about you

his endearing ways of talking never failed to make you blush, and he loved that

seeing your cheeks burn a deep red as you turned your face away from him

even on your worst days, if you were full of a cold, or overworked from your job, or muddy from walking through the fields with the dog, the compliments and loving phrases kept coming

"how's my pretty little cough-pot?" was always his favourite

he'd take care of you while you were ill, often bringing you sweet tea or pills to help satiate the fever. but that never meant there wasn't a smile on your face

"had anyone ever told you how goddamn perfect you are?"

you'd roll your eyes still, even after years of it, and smile to yourself

"shut up, gaz. i haven't showered in three days, work is kicking my arse, i'm not in the mood for your little lies."

he'd always act offended, hand over his heart

"i would never lie to you, love. you look so cute, all focused and scowly in front of your computer."

your scowl was one of his favourite looks of yours

it made your face scrunch and contort, the bridge of your nose crumpling on itself and your eyes squinting

yet to him, you still looked beautiful

[hertzwritings]

You spin me right round (baby, right round)

A/N: Am I alive? Physically, yes. Am I okay? Probably not. Did I miss all of you guys and writing? YES. Honestly, it’s been weird not writing and keeping in contact with all of you, but I’m trying to get back to it – and that brings us to here. Also, I’ve been listening to Sleep Token on repeat, so I’m feeling things.

I don’t have a set schedule right now, mostly because I have no idea if I’ll be posting regularly or just on a whim, but for now, I’m just getting back in the groove of things!

Your comments, likes, reblogs mean the world to me and would definitely help me stay on it, so if you’ve got anything to say, say it, my loves.

Remember English isn’t my first language, so if there’s errors in grammar or language, try to overlook it. Love you all!

Also, please be gentle wit me on my first day back – it’s like being nervous to start a new school, really.

MASTERLIST

Ask me anything/requests/tag list requests

Pairing: NotFamous!Henry Cavill x female reader

Warnings: Language, dorks being dorks, meet cute, strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, smut (18+, minors DNI), dirty talk, slightly dom/sub, spanking, p in v, tongue on v, blowjobs, slight Msub to Mdom, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, petnames

Wordcount: 4633 (whoops)

You spin me right round (baby, right round)

  Laundry day. Probably the worst of days, especially considering the hefty trek from your 5th floor apartment to the basement, which would be bad enough in and of itself, but carrying the massive load of laundry down without a functioning elevator without spilling half of your delicates did seem like an almost impossible task.

At any rate, you were going to do it, and you were going to be a strong, independent woman, who could definitely carry it down and back up again without dropping a thong or three (like last time, where Pete from 5D was lurking).

You heaved the blue IKEA-bag higher on your shoulder, silently cursing yourself for not actually doing the damned laundry more than you did, and began the descent into the musty basement, your trusty laundry-tokens jangling in your pocket of the loose shorts, you were wearing.

It took longer than you’d like to admit, and you almost did drop the entire bag down a flight of stairs, but you made it and with a loud grunt, you pushed the door to the basement and laundry-room open, almost stumbling inside.

“Oh.” You locked eyes with a very handsome stranger, who looked up from the only dryer, hands still buried pretty deeply in there. “Oh, you need this one?” He asked politely, and that voice – smooth velvet, mixed with a deep rumble that settled nicely in your chest and between your legs. The accent didn’t help at all with how attractive you found him, either, and you shifted your weight slightly. Fuck.   “I-I… I’m… Not right…” You squeaked, silently cursing yourself for wearing your gray, tattered t-shirt with a faded logo on it, that definitely did not do anything nicely for your shape. You cleared your throat. “No, I’m sorry, no. I’m still in the early laundry-stages.” You said with a smile, and immediately wanted to die. Laundry stages?? He grinned, a fanged tooth catching his lower lip. “Alright. New to the building?” He asked, casually loading a basket with his clothes.

  “Sort of. More of a recluse, that have been living here for a month, and just never do laundry at normal people-times.” He chuckled and stood up to his full height. He was an impressive man, easily towering a head and a half above you, and he looked enormous. Muscles rolled under his perfect skin on his arms, and you couldn’t help your brain going in all other directions than polite talk with a neighbor. “Well, nice to meet you, recluse. I’m Henry.” He balanced the basket on his hip (a beautiful move, if you were honest) and extended his hand, which you cautiously shook. “I’m Y/N.” You said with a small smile. His hand was warm and the grasp was firmer than you had expected, small callouses on the tips of his fingers that graced the inside of your wrist deliciously. Fuckedy fuck. “Y/N. Good name.” He winked at you. “Oh, don’t use the second washing machine…” He pointed to the washer with a bright red 2 painted on it. “Stinky Pete from 5D used it, and I don’t want to imagine what on earth he washed, but it still smells vaguely like rot.” He winked at you. “Bye, Recluse Y/N!” And with that he left, leaving you slightly shellshocked and a scent trail of hazel and wood behind.

It went on like that for a few weeks; you showed up, he was already there in various states of undress (once you even came face to face with him in just boxers, because he had spilled what appeared to be red wine everywhere) and you exchanged pleasantries before leaving the basement and going back to your apartment, sighing deeply over the fact, that you never actually talked to the handsome stranger.

----------

 A while later, a little past midnight, you were back at it (still no working elevator) and found yourself face to face with the very handsome British man, who this time was wearing fucking gray sweatpants and a tank top, that definitely didn’t leave anything to the imagination. You could see every single muscle underneath the shirt as he loaded the laundry.

“Ah, look who’s back!” he grinned at you. “I saved the best washer for you, but don’t tell Mrs. Selton on the fourth. She can’t know I play favorites, or I’ll never get cookies again.” You laughed. “Alright, your secret’s safe with me, sir.” You said and stood next to him, before starting to load the washer. He tried to say something, but almost bit his tongue and groaned at the sensation. “Are you always this smooth?” You asked, laughing slightly, as he began coughing. “Inhaled… Spit…” He coughed again. When he was finally breathing normally, he raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ll have you know, this is in no way an indication of how I handle normal interactions with people. It’s late, and I’m slightly flustered.” He said with a small smirk.

“Mhm.” You nodded, while mindlessly stuffing your washer. “Sure, I’ll believe you.” “Hey, you don’t know me.” He said, leaning against the dryer and crossed his arms. “Maybe you know my name, and probably the color and general state of my underwear, but you don’t know me.” “I never said anything.” You grinned and closed the lid on the washer. “Wait, that’s not even close to full.” He tsked at you and opened it again. “You have to really stuff it in there, or you’ll be down here until morning.” “Excuse you, can you get your hands off of my laundry, you weirdo.” You slapped his hand away. “Maybe I don’t want my clothes overly wrinkled, have you considered that?” You asked. “Pfft. That’s the charm of communal laundry. It’ll always smell a little like other people and it will be wrinkled.” You guffawed. “Sure thing, Henry. Any plans for tonight?” you asked, mindlessly pouring detergent into the container. He looked at you with his head tilted slightly, a few stray curls bouncing onto his forehead. Goddamnit, it should be illegal to look like that when doing laundry. “Eh, not really. It’s Sunday, Sundays are for me and my boy.” You raised an eyebrow. “Your boy, huh?” “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I am indeed a parent. I have a child.” He said proudly, leaning over you to press the on-button for you. You jumped onto the counter behind you and sat down on it, insistingly ignoring the creaking of the wood beneath your butt. That’s an insecurity for another day. “Really?” He nodded. “Would your boy happen to be a giant dog?” he frowned. “How the hell did you know that?” You pointed to the unwashed load of laundry, where a suspicious amount of hair had settled on pretty much everything. “Why are you pointing at my... Yeah, well, that is a lot of hair…” He looked back at you with a furrowed brow. “Why are you even looking down there? My laundry should be sacred!” He said teasingly, covering the basket with his arm. “Well… That’s… Uhm… Anyway.” You laughed. “Are you just down here for fun, or did you wait for me?” You asked with a grin. He shrugged. “Oooor… Did you wait for me down here, because we’re the only people in this building that are somewhat close in age, and you are trying to befriend me, which is why you’ve hidden a bottle of wine in your laundry?” “Stop making assumptions that are astutely accurate, it’ll turn weird soon.” He groaned, and – as you thought – pulled a bottle of rosé out of his laundry. “I’m not astutely accurate, I didn’t know it was rosé.” You grinned. He laughed lightly and cocked an eyebrow. “To be fair, it’s mostly because I have nothing to do, and I have a feeling you never celebrated moving here. So…” He opened the bottle with a swift move and pulled two red solo cups out of the basket. “Drink?” You laughed.

“Love to.”  

 “Okay, come on, why on earth are you keeping these?” He asked, holding a very old thong between his fingers. “Shut up, and stop fondling my underwear, you freak!” you quickly grabbed it from him with a laugh. The bottle had been emptied, and a new one had been brought down and for some reason, in your tipsy mind, it was a great idea helping each other folding each other’s clothes while you were waiting on the load that was currently spinning in the dryer. “I’ll have you know, some clothes are sentimental!” You said, throwing the thong into your blue IKEA-bag. He snickered. “How on earth is tattered and holed thongs sentimental? Besides, to be quite frank, at this point it’s just… Like… A string.” He laughed. “You’re the one to talk! You threw a pair of his socks at him. “I have never seen so many pairs of boxers with holes in them!” He shrugged. “I call it the surprise.” You frowned. “The surprise?” “The surprise.” He moved closer to you, and every single hair on your body stood up, while your breath hitched. He whispered into your ear, closely enough for you to feel his lips touch your earlobe. “If I’m feeling very saucy, I’ll simply rip them off and yell surprise!.” He said and laughed, sending vibrations through your entire body. “Ah, why of course. That’s a totally normal thing to do.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes a little darker than usual. “As opposed to being sentimentally attached to a thong?” he asked, his arms caging you in – it wasn’t an unpleasant experience, but it did make your thighs shake a little. His scent enveloped you completely and made it almost impossible to think. “Many tings are sentimental. Underwear, stuff…” You answered lamely. He laughed, a low rumble in his chest and cocked an eyebrow at you. When did his face get so close? “Ah, of course. Stuff and thongs. Nothing better than relieving the good, old days of… Black thongs?” He said softly, his breath fanning over your face. It was intoxicating. “Right. Besides, you have no right to judge me when your underwear looks like it could’ve been made during World War two.” You retorted, shifting slightly in place. He chuckled. “Well… Maybe I have to get new ones, then.”

His lips were so, so close to yours, all it would take was just a little nudge and you would be connected. He was intoxicating as he had you caged, muscles rolling in his arms, his scent of wood and something inherently Henry fully filled your brain, and you almost moved your head, but the sound of the dryer going off pulled both of you out of whatever that was.

“Second load done, one more to go!” He said a little breathlessly and pushed himself away from you – you let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding and jumped down from the counter. “Great.” You whispered, bending down to grab whatever was in there – you would’ve just kept going, if it wasn’t for the small groan that sounded behind you. You turned your head around and caught Henry looking at your ass. “Excuse you.” You smirked. He cleared his throat. “Were you just looking at my ass, Henry from 4C?” “Uhm… No, I… I-” He groaned. “Fine, I was, but you can’t blame me! You’re bending down like that, and you’re wearing those fucking shorts… I can’t help it, you’re fucking gorgeous, darling.” You shivered. “Oh.” A thick silence fell between you, and you slowly stood up, laundry be damned. “Yeah, well… It’s an unfair advantage, I really tried to be proper and all that, but... Jesus Christ, Y/N.” he groaned again and closed his eyes – the small twitch in his gray sweatpants did not go unseen by you. “Respectfully, are you wearing anything underneath those sweatpants?” You asked, slightly out of breath while heat and wetness were pooling in your panties by the mere idea. “Maybe, maybe not. Are you wearing anything under that?” He asked, opening his eyes slightly. “No, my sentimental thongs are in the laundry.” Wherever the confidence came from, you had no idea, but his reaction to you was more than enough for you to keep going. You were slightly shaky as you moved a step closer to him. “Y/N…” He whispered. “Henry…” You were chest to chest to him now, his lower back against the counter. It was slightly exhilarating to have the control, especially over such a big man as Henry. “Henry…” You whispered his name again, and a fucking whimper fell from his lips. Yeah, fuck this.

You pounced – as best as you could, height difference and all – and the moment, he realized what you were doing, his arms wrapped around you and lifted you slightly, so your lips could connect. It was electric. No, not electric, it was like a symphony of colors, feelings and it was like plunging into cool water, when his lips touched yours. You moaned against his lips, and he gasped, letting your tongue glide against his. Deepening the kiss, he straightened up slightly, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist, holding on for dear life. Your lips and tongues slid against each other fervently, a slight groan reverberating from his throat send you over the edge. You bit his lower lip, pulling a soft moan from him, and wrapped your hand in is hair, tugging it slightly. The reaction was better than you could’ve ever imagined. His hands moved from your waist to your ass, squeezing hard, while a mix of moans and your name tumbled from his lips to yours – you could feel his hard length pressing against the sweatpants and your shorts, and you were sure you were leaving wet spots on his pants. “Fuck, Henry…” You mumbled his name, and he turned around to place you on the counter, before going to your throat, kissing and biting. You moaned at the feeling and threw your head back. “Harder.” You moaned, and felt him smile against your skin, before his teeth sunk deeper into your skin, his large hands tightening their grip on your thighs, causing you to roll your hips. “Fucking hell, darling, I can almost taste you from here…” He whispered against you, his hands moving upwards. “Hmm, really?” You moaned, rolling your hips again. “Nobody’s stopping you.” You tugged his hair again for good measure. “No, you’re right about that.” He mumbled, his hands dancing up, up, up, until they reached the waistband of your shorts and gently pulled them down, letting the fabric slide down your legs – you lifted your ass from the counter, allowing them to fully fall off of you, and he groaned at the sight in front of him. “Fuuuck, darling… I can see how fucking wet you are… Can I taste you?” He asked, his darkened eyes finding yours, chest heaving. You cocked an eyebrow. “Ask nicely.” He chuckled, a thick finger gliding along your hip, slowly inching towards your mound. “Please, Y/N, please… Fuck, I need to taste you, please, let me taste you… let me eat you out until you cum on my tongue.” For a seemingly proper British man, he was filthy. “Yes.” He didn’t wait a second before moving down your body, teeth catching both fabric and nipple on his way down, before he stopped, licking his lips, while looking at your exposed, dripping pussy. “Y/N…” He mumbled your name like a prayer, and before you even had the time to breathe, he licked a thick line along your lips, parting them with it. He moaned at the taste and dove in like a man starved. You mewled at the feeling, his tongue moving around your clit, fingers still on your inner thigh, and you could barely hold your upper body up as his tongue dipped inside of you. “Fuck, yes… I want to feel you cum on me, darling…” He mumbled against you, his hips rutting slightly into nothing. “Fingers. Please, fingers.” You managed to moan as his tongue went back to your clit, hardening against it as he began to eat you out with an intensity you’d never experienced before. He obeyed silently, adding two thick fingers into your dripping pussy, curling them upwards. You bit back a scream as they filled you, slowly sliding in and out, hitting your g-spot over and over, while his tongue did magic on your clit; you’d forever be ruined by this man, and he hadn’t even been inside of you yet. “Fuck!” You bit back a scream as he sped up, tongue and fingers working in perfect unison to pull you closer to the edge; he chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your clit. “Be quiet, little bird, or someone will hear.” He said slowly, taking a small break from your clit. “Fuck off, it’s like three in the mo-or…” You didn’t finish your sentence, as he dove back in, this time with a speed and intensity, that could’ve killed you on a different day. “Shit, I’m gonna…” He moaned as you tightened around his fingers, and he slurped your juices from you, keeping the pace as best he could. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby… I want to feel you cum, can you cum for me, please…” He whimpered as your pussy pulled his fingers deeper inside of you, and you shook slightly.

You couldn’t stop it, even if you wanted to. Your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, white spots appearing in your vision, and you felt, more than heard, his moaning as you rode your orgasm out on his face and fingers.

“Fuck, baby, look at you… You squirted for me, didn’t you, darling?” he looked up at you with a devilish smirk on his face, that was shimmering with your cum under the low fluorescent lights. You moaned – his fingers were still going in and out of you. “Now…” he whispered, his voice dangerously low. “You get on your knees, darling.” E stood up and wiped his face gracefully, putting a single finger in his mouth. “You taste fucking amazing.” He grinned at you and stood to his full height, a sense of authority filling the room. “Knees.” He commanded, and who were you to deny that? You slid down from the counter on shaky legs and landed on your knees, looking up at him. “Fuck, darling, you can’t look at me like that, I’ll fucking cum here and now.” He groaned. “Well, where’s the fun in that?” You said while your fingers grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down, letting his cock spring free. You almost salivated at the look of it. Thick, throbbing slightly, a thick vein running down the length of it and a drop of precum sparkling under the lights. He was huge. “Well, what are you waiting for, little bird?” he chuckled, before he cut it off with a moan, as your lips wrapped around the tip, and you slid down as far as your jaw and throat allowed you to. He moaned as the tip hit the back of your throat and you choked slightly on it – you were dripping wet, as you began to move back and fort on his length, swallowing as much as you could, reveling in the taste of is precum. He twitched slightly and a choked moan spilled from his lips, as he thrusted forwards. “Fuck, baby… Shit, you’re really... Fuck… Good at this…” He moaned. You smiled around his length and moved faster, hearing the choked moans above, spurring you on. “Fuck, baby, stop, stop, stop… Stop, I’ll cum if you keep going…” You whimpered as he pulled away from you, a line of spit connecting you, and you looked up at him with big eyes. He groaned and held your chin with a large hand. “Good girl. I want to feel you before I cum, darling.” He whispered, gently guiding you up to your feet again by your chin. He kissed you deeply before turning you around, bending you over the counter. “Fuck, this ass… You’re a fucking wonder, baby…” He reveled, a hand falling on your ass. You moaned at the sensation and your hips bucked, exposing yourself more to him. “Oh, look at you, doing so fucking good for me already, aren’t you?” he whispered. You moaned again. “Henry, please…” You whimpered his name and tried to push back to get him inside of you, but he chuckled and held you tightly in place. “No, baby girl, you’re going to stay right there.” He ran a hand down your spine and slapped your ass again, forcing a whimper from you. “Now, you ask nicely, and I’ll fuck you right here, right now.” He said darkly, his hand gently running circles over your ass, sometimes dipping between your legs. You coked on a moan, and barely had the wherewithal to create a coherent sentence. “Please, please, p-please, fuck, Henry, please… Please f-fuck me, I’m begging you-u…” His finger dipped inside of you. “You want to feel my cock slowly slide inside of you, baby?” He asked, dragging his finger in and out painfully slow. You whimpered a broken yes. “Want to feel me dragging against your walls, huh? Want me to fill you, let my cum drip out of you?” You were a shaking mess as another finger was added. “Y-yes…” You felt like crying. It was so good, but so torturous to feel his fingers glide so fucking slowly. “Ah, you can do better than that, darling.” He said, bending over you – you could feel the tip of his cock against your ass, as his mouth found your neck again. “P-please, Henry, please… I want to feel your cock in me, please…” “Mhm… I want to fill you up, darling… I want to watch my thick cock slide in and out of your tight pussy, seeing you take me…” He rambled, fingers moving faster now, and you groaned at his words. “Fuck, y-yes, Henry, I’m b-begging you, please…” you mewled. He withdrew his fingers too quickly for your liking, and he spat on your already soaked pussy, before lining himself up. “You think you can take all of me right now, baby? Let my thick cock go as deep as it can, huh?” He asked, rubbing the tip against your entrance, smearing the wetness around. You nodded, desperate for anything at this point. “No, no, that won’t do, little bird.” He tsked at you and his free hand wrapped around your hair and tugged slightly, arcing your back as your head got pulled back. You moaned loudly. “Mhm, keep the sound down, we’re in a public area, sweetheart.” He said with a small chuckle. “Ask me and mean it.” He ordered, the tip of his throbbing cock so fucking close to glide inside of you. “Fucking fill me, or I swear to god…” you begged, and whatever you wanted to say got lost in your throat, as he slid inside of you swiftly and in one, single thrust, bottomed out.

You shrieked in both pain and pleasure, your legs shaking and if he hadn’t kept a tight grip on your hair and waist, you’d probably collapse. “Oh, good girl, look at you taking all of me… Sit, it looks to fucking good to see my cock in you, baby…” He mumbled. He didn’t move yet, simply allowing you to adjust.  After a few seconds, you rolled your hips to let him know you were good, and he chuckled darkly. “There’s a good, little slut, darling.” His words combined with his voice sent wetness down your thighs as he began moving, slowly at first, before picking up speed. You felt every single twitch inside of you, and he filled you to the brim. You had never been so fucking full before, and you’d never want to stop, if you were honest. He angled himself a little better and pistoned in and out of you; you saw stars and a red-hot burning started in your abdomen seconds before your orgasm hit you; it was blinding and your legs were barely functioning as you came around him, your pussy pulling him deeper, as your thighs got soaked and he moaned. “Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N… Fuck, I’m not going to last long…” He moaned as you twitched around him and met his thrust, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the otherwise quiet room. “Fucking fill me, please… I want to feel you cum, I’m b-begging you…” you moaned, almost delirious at this point. He roared and bit down on your shoulder, before he picked up speed and began fucking you fiercely, his tick and long cock hitting your cervix slightly. You mewled and another rush of wetness went down your legs, as you neared another orgasm while he whispered praise and encouragements in your ear.

“Look at that fucking… Oh, fuck…” He groaned and thrusted harder than ever, his rhythm becoming irregular. “Look at you taking me so well, darling… You’re doing so good for me, can you cum again?” He licked the spot, he had just bitten. “Can you cum for me again, baby girl? Let me… Fuck… Feel you cum again?”

As if you could deny him.

He clamped a hand over your mouth as you came wit a scream, your pussy tightening and pulsing around his length as he fucked you into oblivion. He roared with pleasure and his hand moved from your waist to your ass, grabbing it harshly before picking up speed and chased his own high. You were shaking, barely coherent as he fucked you relentlessly. “Henry… Fuck, please… Let me feel you cum… Fuck, p-please, I want to feel you fill me, please…” You moaned his name like a prayer, and he growled before his speed stuttered. “Fuck, baby… I’m going to fill you up, you’ll be dripping for days… I’m so fucking deep in your tight pussy…” he mumbled, his hand bruising your ass, wile he pistoned back and forth; he fell silent for half a second, before you felt him swell and twitch slightly. “Tell me you’re mine.” He growled. “Mine.” His cock pounded you relentlessly. “H-henry… Shit, y-yes, yes, I’m yours!” You mewled as he twitched again.

Ropes of his cum painted your insides, and you came with him as you felt the heat of his spend inside of you. Henry growled as you tightened around him again, and he jerked his hips so he was a deep as e could be, whispering praise to you, as you rode out your own orgasm.

 You stayed bent over the creaky counter, sweat dripping form the both of you, his cock still inside of you, for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath.

“Shit, that was…” he whispered, kissing the bitemark on your shoulder gently. You shivered. “Mhmm…” Words did kind of fail you at the moment. He seemed to understand whatever you meant, at any rate, and chuckled gently, before slowly pulling out with a hiss. “Jesus Christ… You’re a fucking wonder, you know that, Y/N?” He asked, the sweetest smile painting his features. You grinned with slightly bruised lips, and pulled your shorts back up. No reason to try and clean up. “Says you.” He bent down and grabbed the black thong, that was more string than fabric at this point, at stuffed it in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Sentimental value, you know?” You laughed. “Does this mean I get to see your surprise-move?” You asked jokingly. He cocked his eyebrow and a smile spread across his face – he was a goddamn Adonis.

“Well, I do have more wine in my apartment… And a bed…”

“Lead the way.”

 TAGLIST:

@acaceta @a-skov @buckyshattergirl​ @angelmather1 @cooldreamlandsandwich @doubletriplepowerbomb @est1887@enchantedbytomandhenry @fionnthebandersnacc @herroyalbubbliness @jeepgirls-stuff @Keiva1000 @kebabgirl67 @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @mis-lil-red @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler @pandaxnienke @perfunctory-username69 @penneferofvenerburg @sleutherclaw @sofiebstar @summersong69 @spookyboogyuniverse @stardusted26 @thereisa8ella @timetraveller4@thatonechickhere @themanfromu @thelastpyle @tragicphoenix13 @yourlocalhoney @wheretheriversrunintothesea @severewobblerlightdragon @leigh70 @phildunphyisadilf​

[1d1195]

Love and Dryer Sheets III

Sorry for the wait. Hope you like it :)

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

Just under 6k words

Warnings: emotional cheating, physical cheating, toxic relationships, arguing, etc.

Of course, she wanted to know his deepest thoughts. His desires. She wanted to know what his lips felt like on hers. How he took his coffee and whether he liked to sleep with the window open or closed. But that wasn’t her job to know. They had these moments in the laundry room and that was enough.

For now.

True to form, Harry continued to do the most inane loads of laundry. At one point he had just a towel, a T-shirt, and a sock. Hiding his odd loads of items from her—so he wasn’t so obviously following her to the laundry room so often—was the hard part. Fortunately, she never seemed to notice. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything.

Maybe she wants to see you, too. Harry’s heart had developed its own independent voice. He could feel it and hear it when he was around her. It was much kinder than his conscience and was all for Harry falling in love with the woman in the laundry room. He was burning through his jug of detergent. Ava paid no attention to it as much as Miss Sunshine paid no mind to his weird array of wash. Harry was lucky because Ava still brought her laundry to her mum’s house when she visited on a fairly weekly bais, so she didn’t have to sit with her laundry in the communal room. So, she didn’t have a clue about Harry’s laundry partner.

It was also how Harry had kept Ava’s presence a secret from his personal, human-form of sunshine.

You’re an idiot.

Harry ignored his conscience completely. As if it hadn’t whispered a thing to him.

Over the course of the next few months, Harry watched her read no less than six books and they chatted about most of everything and anything. Harry hadn’t felt so at ease around someone in ages. It made him so...confused. It felt like all the tension in his body released at once when he was around her. He doesn’t remember the last time he wasn’t tense for such substantial time periods.

Maybe if she hadn’t offered to share her laundry detergent, he would have continued to feel tense. If she wasn’t so nice, he might not have even noticed her sitting on top of the washer. He wouldn’t think about how soft her hair looked and how he wanted to slide his fingers through it. There wouldn’t be a thought about her giggle and how every time he saw The Wizard of Oz on the cable line up, he wanted to head down to her apartment to let her know—or ask to watch it with her.

“Have y’ever seen Wicked?” He asked her during one of their reading and waiting sessions. She placed a finger on her page making sure not to lose her spot.

She shook her head with a knowing smirk. “It’s on my list, but I can’t justify the cost right now.”

“They don’t pay y’a billion for being an angel at the hospital?” He asked with a smirk.

It felt like Harry was winning a competition he didn’t even know he entered every time she laughed at his jokes. “No, not really,” she shook her head. Their books were nearly forgotten so quickly. They were mirroring one another sitting on top of their washers. Her heels lightly bumped into the front of the machine, and they were just smiling at each other like they had been friends for their whole lives. They didn’t have to talk. He simply enjoyed her happy, sunshiney company.

Jesus Christ. His conscience was still trying even though he stopped listening to it. It was futile. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop how he felt. Even if it was wrong. Harry would simply push the feelings back as much as he could. However, his heart—with it’s independent voice—would only let him push his emotions down so much.

Harry found himself heading to the laundry room before she got there some days. It took some time to map out her schedule, but he seemed to find a pattern of every three to four days she would be lugging some of her stuff down to the basement. Fortunately, his conscience had gotten through to him to say he shouldn’t be stalking the laundry room. It should be a little more of a chance of finding her there and so he began doing at least one load a week without her.

“Hey munchkin,” her light voice nearly sent a shiver down his spine as she entered. It took Harry all the willpower in the world to not spin around at the sound immediately. Instead, he smirked at the little nickname. It was fitting of course, that she would choose it. It was ironic, as Harry was tall and far from a munchkin. But it was as adorable as she was, and Harry would respond to it for the rest of his life—especially if it came from her lips.

Easy. His brain continued to warn him, despite Harry having not acknowledged the voice of reason in months. But even Harry recognized it was dangerous to let her get so attached. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her because of his own idiocy.

“What d’you mean y’don’t like fried cauliflower?!” He ran his hands over his face like this was the worst grievance she could ever muster. Maybe it was. Harry was certain someone was lovely as she was couldn’t truly make someone annoyed. He couldn’t imagine fighting with her the way he fought with Ava.

Stop. His brain tried to remind him that thoughts like that weren’t okay. He shouldn’t be thinking about Ava and Miss Sunshine in the same wavelength. It was bad, number one. But it was also a slippery slope to being an absolute disaster of messing up a name and he needed this calm for a little while longer. The catastrophe of emotions Harry had raging in his heart and mind was overwhelming. He was going to mess up; he could feel it. If he didn’t miss this calm, this warmth, the sunshine so very much he would have worried more about the impending storm.

“If I’m being honest, I had the taste buds of a picky ten-year-old for the longest time; so I haven’t tried fried cauliflower in a long time. So, I’m open to giving it another chance.”

Harry’s smile made her feel like she could fly if he asked her to. His dimples made her stomach flutter with a thousand butterflies. She wished he would ask her to dinner. She wanted to try fried cauliflower again. If he did ask, she would gladly justify the cost of Wicked tickets. Sitting with him in the laundry room for the last couple of months made her so happy. It brightened her whole week, and she was glad he had as much laundry as he did so she could see him so often. She should have just asked him out. It was a brave thing to do and there was nothing really stopping her from doing so.

Except the idea that if he said no, she would have to find a new place to do laundry because she would never want to see him again. Maybe he was just friendly and liked having the company during such a boring chore.

When he smiled, she could swear he seemed happier than he had when he entered the laundry room. Regardless of if he already was happy. Maybe it was just wishful thinking; maybe it was her projecting how she felt the moment Harry’s foot crossed the threshold of the room. It was nice chatting with Harry. Most of the conversations were light—like fried cauliflower and which Spider-man was best (she was extremely partial to Andrew Garfield, but Harry was a firm believer Tobey Maguire did it best).

But over the course of their friendship, she could recognize when he was having a bad day. “Something wrong, munchkin?” She asked when he stared off to the wall and not his book. The only sound in the room was their washers humming quietly below them. He didn’t answer right away, and she waited patiently. Something she took home from work. Sometimes people needed a moment to process what they were feeling because they couldn’t form what they were feeling just yet.

“Sometimes I think m’not going t’be a good dad,” he mumbled.

She felt her heart and stomach flip in equal parts. The idea of Harry as a dad—even though she hadn’t known him that long, and certainly shouldn’t have been thinking about him in that context—had her ovaries aching for something that wasn’t hers to ache for.

“I think that’s a rational fear for anyone,” she said gently. He shrugged, still didn’t look at her. He crossed his ankles, his heels bumping into the washer. “Are you going to be a dad soon?” She asked with a smirk. It was a curious question, but a genuine one. His relationships were none of her business. They hadn’t done anything. They weren’t doing anything wrong. She called Niall nicknames all the time.

It was fine. For now.

Of course, she wanted to know his deepest thoughts. His desires. She wanted to know what his lips felt like on hers. How he took his coffee and whether he liked to sleep with the window open or closed. But that wasn’t her job to know. They had these moments in the laundry room and that was enough.

For now.

But when he looked at her finally, her heart felt a crack in it that made her want to take back her question. His expression was a bit cutting and she felt a little taken aback by such a cold look on his normally warm face. She felt embarrassed she had asked it; making her face warm at his irritated look. “No,” he murmured. He was reading about a couple staying in a relationship that the main character didn’t love as much as he used to. It got him thinking about the idea of staying with Ava. What that would do to their already tense relationship. How it would affect his relationship with children if he didn’t change something...soon. Instead of voicing all those worries, he went with the one that really did weigh on his mind frequently. Another problem he didn’t have a solution to. “But...m’dad wasn’t ‘round a lot growing up. S’not like...’ve got a good role model t’think ‘bout y’know?”

She let the words fall over them for a few moments. In case Harry wanted to add to his statement or revise something. If he wanted to take it back... It was a personal notion. Talking about something so deep and serious was like a new step in their relationship—whatever relationship it was that they had, didn’t matter—and would make it deeper and stronger itself. “Well,” she cleared her throat quietly. “I think you just worrying about that will make you a good dad,” she said softly.

His face softened back to its natural, Harry-looking face that made her feel warm and fuzzy again. “Thanks, Sunshine,” he said softly.

She felt like she had to share something equally heavy. Just so Harry wouldn’t feel out of place, and sound so sad dealing with his own emotions. “I feel like my mom and dad have made it hard for me to believe in love that lasts forever,” she looked at her hands gripping the sides of her book. It was such a hard thing to admit. She hadn’t really told anyone that besides Niall.

Harry tilted his head curiously at her. That was quite the thing to disclose to Harry. But he found his heart aching for her. It worried him because she was so lovely, and she deserved the kindest, deepest love. He could tell just from sitting in the room with her over the last few months that she deserved that. “You’re not your parents, love,” he reminded her. “Think if y’don’t want a love like theirs, you’ll find the one y’do want,” he murmured. “S’not like y’need a heart from a wizard or anything,” he joked.

She smiled and nodded. It seemed like it was too good to be true that Harry would quote her favorite book to her. Especially when she was vulnerable and voicing something that hurt her—especially after a recent breakup. But Harry was real. He was sitting there; telling her his deepest thoughts or making her laugh with a lame joke or sharing a recipe about his favorite kind of brussels sprouts.

“Thanks, Harry,” she whispered softly feeling her heart rate slow to nearly nothing.

“You’re welcome, Sunshine.”

They went back to their books, stealing glances at one another until her washer finished its cycle. “Do you...fold your page down in your book?” He asked. He thought he had imagined it the first time. But this was...

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes throwing her stuff into the basket to transfer to the dryer.

“Kitten... s’unnatural.”

She snorted, smiling so brightly Harry swore it cured him of the sadness he was feeling before. “I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle too,” she giggled.

He shook his head melodramatically and smirked. “Somehow, I think we’ll get along anyway," he murmured and it made her toes nearly curl with want for him and his mouth all over her body. "Even if y'a serial killer."

*

Niall was laying on her sofa while she cooked in the kitchen. It was his favorite of her dishes: chicken parmesan. Her specialty. Plus, she made garlic bread from scratch that had Niall salivating with the scent wafting through her apartment.

“Have y’seen Harry around?” He asked as he flipped through different titles looking for a movie to watch. He thought he might settle on The Wizard of Oz because it had been a while since they had watched it together.

She was sprinkling shredded cheese across the dish and nodded even though Niall couldn’t see. Her heart felt fluttery, and her stomach did its flip that it always did when she thought about or saw Harry. “Yeah...just...in the laundry room.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up, Niall.”

“I’ve never had washing machine sex myself, but I imagine all the vibration would work wonders for you,” he continued anyway.

“Niall,” she groaned feeling flushed and awkward that even she had those thoughts about Harry. “I’m gonna spit in your food.”

He rotated from his supine position and turned to lean over the back of the sofa. It gave him a better look at his best friend making dinner in the kitchen. “You’re awfully sensitive about him, darling,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s cute, funny, nice, smart...he checks all the boxes,” she murmured quietly.

Niall knew what she was getting at though. He could see it in her face and hear it in her voice. “But...?”

“I don’t know...doesn’t he seem too good to be true?”

Niall looked at her with a sympathetic smile. “Think you might be harboring some emotions from your last relationship, princess,” Niall’s voice was gentle. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed in front of Niall. But she could feel the anxiety that was clearly going to riddle every relationship she had going forward. That worried her and made her feel...bad. So maybe she should just listen to Niall. Maybe she was overthinking it—of course she was overthinking it! Or even if Harry was too good to be true...wasn’t there something nice about him just...being nice to her? After all that bad stuff and hard stuff that she went through? It wasn’t like she had to marry him or anything. It was just nice to talk to someone who seemed to enjoy her company and didn’t make her feel like she had to walk around on eggshells.

“I told Harry about my mom and dad,” she responded instead of confirming or denying his statement.

Niall raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. That was a feat to say the least. “Really?”

“Well...he said something about how he thought he would be a bad dad... I thought—well... I wanted to share something similar, you know?”

Niall adored her and her kind, empathetic brain. “Yeah. I know,” he smiled encouragingly. “What did he say?”

She sighed. After she finished with the cheese, she slid the dish into the oven and sauntered over to the sofa. She fell beside Niall and laid her head on his leg. He fiddled with the strands of her hair comfortingly. “I mean...I didn’t give him a lot of information...but he was really understanding all the same. Quoted something about the Tin Man.”

Niall smirked. “He sounds like your soulmate, darling,” there was an obvious tone in Niall’s voice. Like she didn’t already know that.

“I really like him, Niall,” she admitted quietly. “Like really like him. I can’t stop thinking about him,” she whispered.

Niall wanted her to be happy. Happy as she possibly could be. “I bet he likes you too.”

She was still so unsure. It had been months. He should have asked her out by now. It wasn’t like she wasn’t obvious. She was calling one of the tallest men she was friends with munchkin for Christ’s sake. She thought they were friends, but she didn’t even have his phone number. They never spoke outside the laundry room.

But it was undeniable that there was something there. She felt it in her heart, her mind, and all the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he entered the same room as her. “I hope so,” she looked sadly toward the TV excited to see the intro credits of her favorite movie. “He’d be a really good scarecrow to my Dorothy.”

*

“Ava. I cannot keep doing this,” he pressed his hands into his eyes.

She glared at him. “I’m not the problem.”

Harry hated this. He didn’t want a my-fault-your-fault relationship. If there were going to be issues, he wanted to fix them. Relationships weren’t perfect. Never. Not even the best ones out there. His was far from perfect. But maybe it had a chance at one point in time. It didn’t seem like it anymore.

Now, Ava just made him mad. Harry felt alone even when she was in the room. More alone than when she wasn’t in the room.

Today, it was that she couldn’t find her keys and Harry said something like he hadn’t seen them. Did you check the car? Because sometimes Ava would think she dropped them in her bag, but they’d slide right back to the floor, and she wouldn’t notice. This comment resulted in her eye roll, her irritation with Harry’s obvious question. Of course, I checked the car, I’m not an idiot.

The insinuation that Harry would insult her made him angry. He liked to believe he was kind; even when it was hard. Even when Ava made him so mad, he was shaking.

They began searching for her keychain, room by room fighting about something new in every room. Harry looked under the sofa, pulling a pair of his socks covered in dust bunnies sparked the first peripheral argument. Can you not leave your socks lying around?

In the fridge, in case she put it in there when grabbing a bottle of water. The original fight now spiraled into who left the dishes in the sink?

The bathroom: why was the washcloth on the floor?

The sitting room under the coffee table: When you leave the room, could you turn the TV off?  Why is your phone volume maxed to the top?

“What is the point of all this Ava, all we do is argue about everything!?” Harry snapped as he slammed the bathroom door shut for two seconds of peace while he looked in her makeup drawer; maybe she was touching up her makeup and dropped them in there.

“We don’t just argue,” she sighed bitterly through the closed door. “Be serious Harry!”

“You’re going t’argue ‘bout how much we argue? Cute. Real fucking cute, love.”

“Jesus, Harry. Quit being so defensive!”

“Defensive?!” He hissed. “M’trying t’help you find your keys and y’act like I killed a dog in every room!”

He opened the door and found her leaning against the opposite wall, her bag over her shoulder waiting for this search to be over so she could go wherever she was headed. “Where are y’even going?” He asked as he went to their bedroom and looked under the bed.

“Out for a coworker’s birthday dinner.”

“Alone?”

“What y’don’t trust me?” The accusation was thick in her voice.

“Ava, for the love of God,” he practically growled. “Y’don’t invite me anywhere anymore, I was jus’ asking if it was a significant other thing—I would go with you. Christ.”

“We don’t need people to see us argue over appetizers,” she muttered. “But no, it’s not.”

Harry ignored her comment about arguing about appetizers. “Why don’t y’take my car and I’ll look for your keys,” he suggested quietly.

She shook her head. “I don’t like driving your car. The seat settings are weird and it’s hard for me to park it.”

“D’you want me t’drop you off and pick you up?” He asked.

She sighed dramatically. “I’ll just Uber.”

Harry was going to lose his mind. “Are y’serious?” He wondered following her retreating figure to the main room again. “You don’t even want your coworkers to see me? What, do y’think we’ll fight in the parking lot?”

“I never know with you Harry,” she shrugged with a dramatic, exhausted sigh. It was the same way Harry felt. She went to the closet to grab her coat and Harry heard the distinct jingle of her keys in the pocket as she pulled the jacket off the hanger.

Harry stared at her blankly. Emotionless. Not a sorry or a thank you for looking fell from her mouth. She didn’t even look apologetic as she slid her coat on wordlessly. “I forgot I wore this when I was out last,” she mumbled as she exited the apartment.

Normally after a fight—or a series of fights like that—the moment Harry had a second to himself he felt almost instantly better. But today all he felt was more anger. All of it. Down to the very smallest atoms of his bones. It hurt him as if she had reached in and yanked his heart out. He didn’t know why. He didn’t understand why this fight about keys made him so angry that he couldn’t shake the feeling. Not even a little.

He paced for a few minutes trying to calm his breathing. Trying to get the anger out of his chest, his head, every blood cell that was boiling with frustration.

It wasn’t just keys, washcloths, and dishes. It was everything. They were always arguing. It could have been a world record. They had to have the fastest time for arguing over nothing. But even though the fights were so trivial they built and built until it wasn’t just stupid little things.

They didn’t work. At least not anymore. They were broken. Maybe forever. Harry would have to start over. He would have to move out. Gemma would say I told you so. Mum would be understanding but would tell him she never liked Ava and he would have to try and justify why he stayed so long and it wasn’t what he wanted. He didn't want to justify anything. It wasn't anyone's business...

But he knew it was true. Deep down, he knew. Then, his mind and heart would be broken. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Before his conscience or his heart could say anything internally, he was hurrying down the stairs; his body moving almost of its own accord. It caused the slightest relief in his veins. He could feel the simmering boil slow just a fraction.

It was bad. A bad idea. A bad move. It was just bad.

But Harry was tired of being angry.

The only time he wasn’t angry was when he was enjoying the warmth of sunshine.

*

“Hey munchkin,” she smirked as he entered the basement. She was so used to his tall frame taking up the entryway she didn't even have to fully look to see that it was him coming down the steps. She did a double take looking at the lack of a basket. He was frazzled. Her smirk turned to a frown in an instant. “Harry? Are you... okay...? ... Munchkin?” She asked, her voice trailing off. She dropped the towel she was folding into the basket, and she reached out like she wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. She hadn’t touched him in the months that she had known him but she was willing to do it now. God, she would have done it earlier and for less. The anxiety that was laced in his features made her nervous. Her heart felt a heaviness seeing how upset he felt so evidently on his beautiful face.

The second his name left her lips, his mouth was on hers.

Harry felt whole. The anger was gone. Truly. It was like she transferred all that warmth, kindness, and peace right through her lips and into Harry’s mouth. It was like holding actual sunshine. He forgot everything. He didn’t think of work, his book, laundry. He didn’t think of Ava, Gemma, anyone or anything.

He was kissing her, that was the only thing he could remember and focus on and not one thing else.

They were lucky no one else was in the laundry room to witness their make out session. Harry’s lips felt like pillowy little clouds and his chapstick had a coconutty taste to it that offset the minty flavor of his gum. It made her dizzy to finally taste him. Her hands bunched fistfuls of his T-shirt against his sides.

His fingers slid from being curled into her hair on either side of her face down her neck leaving a wake of shivers and goosebumps in their path. He touched the outside of her hips and tried to guide her and lift her to sit atop the washing machine as she always did. But this time was going to be for an entirely different purpose.

She pulled from his lips reluctantly, causing a gasp of air to escape Harry’s mouth.

“Not here,” she whispered into his neck, her voice hardly carrying through the air.

She wasn’t wrong. Fucking in the laundry room was definitely not classy. She deserved classy and time. She needed everything that was good.

Also, it’s very wrong. His conscience reminded him. But Harry could hardly hear the irritating little voice.

“Where?” He hummed, his lips sliding down the side of her neck. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to lose the last of her coherent thought and she would end up doing something stupid with Harry in the public laundry room.

She pulled from his embrace, grabbing his hand and tugged him up the steps to the lobby. Harry nearly tripped on the last step causing her to giggle. They rode the elevator to the third floor, their hands intertwined with one another, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how perfect it felt. Their smiles and giggles escaped them like two teenagers hiding from their parents while they made out in their bedroom. The kissing ensued the second they were alone on the elevator this time she pressed herself against the length of Harry and he wrapped his arms around her back pulling her tight to him as they ascended the passing floors.

Arriving on the third floor, she pushed her door out of the way and almost immediately Harry had her backed against it, his body trapping her against the door. She felt so warm but Harry’s lips on hers made it all worth it. Her heart rate was the speed of a hummingbird. His body was so strong and warm. She moaned into his lips making him squeeze her toward him. He answered with a groan of his own. He pulled back momentarily to let them breathe but as he did his eye caught the photo of her, Niall, and who he assumed was her family. It was in a frame that said There is no place like home.

While she was kissing his neck, making his body hard and soft all at the same time, he smirked releasing a chuckle. “You’re going to laugh while I’m kissing you?" She mumbled into his skin in annoyance.

He laughed a little harder. “Oh, sorry, Sunshine,” he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead while she continued pecking along his collarbone that peeked out from his T-shirt. “Caught the photo there,” he murmured. She turned around in the circle of his arms. Harry wrapped them loosely around her waist from behind so she could look at what caused the distraction. As she looked over the photo herself, he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. The smile on her face that Harry could see sort of reflected in the glass of the picture frame, looked like one of adoration and love. Harry hoped she would look at him like that one day. “You’re so adorable,” he mumbled into her hair. “Why d’you like The Wizard of Oz so much?” He asked.

She pulled his arm from around her and tugged him toward her living area where the bookshelf displayed all the editions she had of her favorite book. Carefully, she tugged one version of it off the shelf and flipped it open to page 189, because of course she knew the exact quote she was looking for. All you need is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty.

It was highlighted in yellow. Harry read it three times. Each time he read it, it felt like he understood her a little more. Each of the three sentences seemed to take prominence on each read through and the last phrase especially, made him think she was some sort of superhero.

While he read, he held the book so carefully in his hands. His finger brushing softly on the page as he pointed to the words. She watched his eyes scan the page almost as gently as he touched the paper. She could see he was digesting the words and it felt so vulnerable. This was her favorite book. Her favorite quote. The way he caressed the book was delicate; the moment was so fragile and made her feel so exposed.

“I don’t know what kind of danger you’ve faced, kitten. But I think you’re the most courageous woman I know.”

Her heart felt so full but weak at the same time. It was like Harry made her feel like she could do anything but that she didn’t have to because he would hold her the way he held her favorite book. It took every ounce of restraint in her to not shed a tear.

“Y’collect them?” He asked.

Clearing her throat, she was grateful for the distraction. She nodded quickly. “Yeah…I think it was a joke at first. Mom and my sister both got me a copy for my birthday. But then every time someone who knew me came across it, I got a new one. Then it was like...everyone we knew was looking. But we were all actually finding copies that were cool and stuff.”

Harry thought he would implode from how cute she was. He hoped to find an edition she didn't have. But even if he didn't, he knew she would appreciate the gesture all the same. He was glad there were people in her life who knew she liked the book. Glad that they appreciated her love for something so...pure.

So as not to say something crazy like he adored her and would buy any copy he came across for her as long as they lived, Harry looked at the remainder of her bookshelf. “Quite the collection of other books y’got, Sunshine,” he smiled bending down to examine the titles on the bottom shelf.

“I have another shelf in my room,” she said.

“Oh?” So, she showed him. There was a run of the mill copy of it on this shelf—she would put one in every room she told him. “It’s comforting, you know?” Harry didn’t really know. He didn’t feel an attachment to a book like that, but he was already obsessed with how comforted he felt around her. From the very moment he met her when she made his anger lessen, made him feel a little better than before he knew her. A little picture frame held a quote on her wall that read We’re not in Kansas anymore.

Then they started chatting about the CDs she had on another shelf. Which got them talking about music. Then she showed him the bathroom and how she found this nifty dispenser for toothpaste and mouth wash. "So I don't have to squeeze it in the middle," she joked. In her kitchen, they looked at photos on her fridge and sifted through recipes in a cookbook that she had written down. “I’m a little old fashioned sometimes. But I think cookbooks are cute,” she shrugged. Harry thought it was adorable, of course. Harry felt like he hadn’t laughed so hard in his whole life being in apartment 304. It felt like...

Well, it felt like there was no place like home.

Eventually a timer on her phone went off pulling them both back to the real world--her failsafe in case there was something she forgot in her apartment while she sat in the laundry room. Harry frowned as she shut off the alert and she turned back to him. “Gotta check on my clothes,” she whispered.

At the same time Harry’s phone vibrated: a message from Ava.

In the last forty-five minutes he completely forgot about Ava’s existence. “Ah,” he shook his head. The anger started to bubble in the pit of his stomach. “S’okay,” or maybe that was guilt.

It should be guilt. His conscience reminded him. That was bad. Even the regular part of Harry’s mind knew how terrible it was that he forgot about Ava.

He kissed another woman.

She’s probably my soulmate. He told his conscience. As if that would fix the problem.

You need to do the right thing. It answered simply. That he could agree with his conscience.

She fluffed her hair, fixed her shirt, and rolled those soft, warm, sweet lips he was already obsessed with into her mouth awkwardly. She gestured toward the door and Harry exited first. They hit buttons for the elevator, going in opposite directions. “I’ll...see you later?” She asked as the elevator alerted the pair of them the elevator was on the rise.

Harry nodded. “Yes,” that he was certain.

“Um...” she bit the inside of her lip and peered up at him nervously. It was sad and adorable all at once. She was perfect, stunning, lovely. Her mind was just as beautiful as she was. Harry thought her heart was unbearably kind and all he wanted to do was worship her and her sweet self.

Harry was an asshole.

“That was...nice,” she whispered softly. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement with an awkward smile. His brain was starting to take back over again. “It was really nice,” he assured her making the relief on her face palpable. For that, he wanted the elevator to crush him.

The lift pinged with it’s arrival to descend back to the lobby. “See you around, munchkin,” she said quietly and kissed his cheek before she stepped onto the elevator. He felt sick to his stomach while he watched the doors close on her sweet, smiling face.

Finally. His conscience sighed with relief.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina

Love and Dryer Sheets: @st-ev-ie @lovrave

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part seven

It's so fun to relive this fic as I post it because when I tell y'all I've been writing it for MONTHS I mean it

Warnings: more unsub!Hotch in action

Follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be “tagged” when a new part goes up!

Seven: I've fallen in love with a man on the run -- "Devil's Backbone" by The Civil Wars

A week later, you found yourself on the BAU jet once again -- awake this time, and headed to Florida. It was a run-of-the-mill case, nothing too special, but you remember it because of the call Rossi got when you landed.

“Really?” he asked, turning around, walking to the back of the plane. A smart move, to keep his face and expressions away from the rest of the team. “Alright. Do they know who did it?”

You shared a look with Morgan and Emily. Reid was listening intently, and JJ was typing furiously on her phone.

“What is going on?” you whispered.

Emily shrugged.

“Alright, okay. Thank you. Uh-huh. Bye.” Rossi returned to the main cabin and took everyone in. “Issac Holman is dead.”

“How?” Reid asked before you could say, who?

“He was beaten and shot in his home in Washington,” Rossi replied with a shrug. “They don’t know who did it. It looked personal, but he wasn’t liked in his neighborhood. It could’ve been anyone.”

“If they even try to look,” JJ added, gesturing with her phone. “I’m hearing that they saw it as a good riddance case.”

“Who are we talking about?” you asked.

“I think it was the year before you joined us,” Morgan said. “Holman murdered his friend’s family. Mom, dad, and a little girl.”

“Madison,” Reid said quietly.

“Why?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Because he wanted to,” Rossi shrugged. “His words.”

“We found him when he was seconds away from killing another family,” Morgan continued. “He tried to create a hostage situation, but we got them out.”

“God,” you groaned. You found yourself not that upset that he was dead, but something still felt wrong. No one deserved to be brutally murdered, even if they had murdered a family. “Well. On to the next one.”

“Yep,” Emily nodded, exhaling. “Let’s go.”

+++

Hotch made sure to be long gone from Washington by the time the news broke about Issac’s death. He had another job to finish, one closer to Virginia, so he decided to stop back at his place near Quantico first. 

He needed a rest after the drive to and from Washington. He needed to sleep for a full twenty-four hours if he wanted to feel awake again.

Before he could do that, though, he tossed everything in the washer. 

Hotch’s phone remained on the kitchen counter, only a few texts from Rossi and one voicemail from him, too. He picked his phone up to listen.

“Aaron, hey-- I got a call a few minutes ago from a friend up in Washington. Issac Holman is dead. They think it happened last week, but they don’t have any suspects. Just thought I’d keep you in the loop. I hope you’re doing alright. Call me if you’re not. Bye.”

Unexpected, but fine. He should’ve known Rossi kept tabs on almost everyone. 

He decided to call him back, regardless of if he answered. He needed to curb suspicions before they even began, so he dialed.

Dave didn’t pick up, so Hotch left a voicemail in return. “Hey Dave, got your voicemail. Thanks for keeping me updated, I hope they figure out what happened. Sorry I’ve missed you, I’ve been leaving my phone in random places around the house,” he chuckled. “Thanks again for checking in. Talk soon, bye.”

He ended the voicemail with surprising calmness. Indifference. How easy was that? This would be easier than he thought.

Once his laundry was done, he put it in the dryer, and then went to bed. He slept like the dead.

+++

Rossi listened to Hotch’s voicemail in the conference room of the police precinct in Sarosota, Florida. Hotch sounded good, better than Rossi was expecting, but not off the deep end, which left Rossi relieved.

You heard every word. Because Rossi wasn’t aware of how loud the speaker was, and you didn’t want to tell him. A foolish part of you wanted to hear Hotch’s voice. And he did sound good.

Hearing his voice made it all hit you like a ton of bricks. You missed him more than you previously thought. Everyone saw you missed him more than what felt normal, but no one mentioned it.

Rossi did, though, after he caught you listening to the voicemail. He gave you that typical Rossi smile.

“I know you miss him,” Rossi said, nudging your shoulder with his. “He sounds like he’s doing good.”

You nodded. “Good.”

“I know things ended…badly between you two,” Rossi started again, “but he’s going through a lot.”

You scoffed. “I know that.” But did he really have to end things with you so abruptly and fiercely? Like he wanted nothing to do with you in the first place? 

Despite that, you don’t blame him. He lost his wife and child to a serial killer. They were divorced, sure, but should you really have been sleeping with him so soon? How much of this had you caused by not giving him more time?

Part of you wanted to apologize, but didn’t know if that was right. If you had the right to apologize.

“Do you think I could go see him?” you asked, not expecting an answer, but Rossi still gave you one.

“I think he’d like that,” Rossi smiled. “But I don’t know for sure. I can’t speak for him.”

“I know,” you said.

But you wanted to see him. Even if it was just to say you were sorry.

+++

Aaron woke after nearly eighteen hours of sleep. His head hurt like fucking hell. He needed painkillers. Or something.

He went stumbling into the bathroom, pawing open the medicine cabinet. He steeled his face when he saw the various vitamins and over-the-counter cold medicine from when Jack was here. Hotch grabbed them and tossed them aside. The bottles clanged loudly in the bathtub. Whatever.

Aaron found the Excedrin and wrenched the cap off, grabbing two and then a third. He swallowed them dry and shook his head, waking himself up.

He had plans for the day. He had a new unsub to catch.

This one was particularly disgusting. This unsub murdered his wife, nearly murdered their son, yet was never convicted, and even retained custody of their son after it all. The evidence, the profile -- none of it was enough.

Hotch needed to do some surveillance work first. He needed to make sure the son was nowhere near the home when he acted. He would never put a child through something like that.

Not like Foyet did to Jack.

Hotch smacked the doorframe of the bathroom as he left, hearing the wood crack underneath his force. He kept walking.

He threw his clothes in the dryer, surprised by how little blood was left on them. The few that weren’t redeemable, he threw in a separate trash bag to burn somewhere. At some point.

Back in his bedroom, he rummaged through his closet for a black shirt and dark blue jeans, preparing for a long day of surveillance.

+++

Strauss called Rossi on the third night of the Florida case, under the guise of a status report. It didn’t take long for Dave to realize what she really was calling for.

“He’s fine, Erin,” Dave chided lightly. “You could call him yourself.”

“I tried. It went to voicemail.”

“He’s been off his phone more, like you suggested,” Dave added. “I just talked to him a couple days ago. He said he’s been leaving his phone around the house instead of staying attached to it, which is a good thing, if I say so myself. Quit worrying.”

“Alright,” she conceded. “I do hope this time off helps him heal.”

“I think it already has,” Dave said.

“And you haven’t discussed any cases with him?”

“Nope.”

“Has anyone else?”

“I just told you he’s off his phone,” Dave paused to chuckle. Who knew Strauss would turn into an overbearing mother over Hotch. “No, Erin. No one has.”

“Good, good,” she said, pausing. “How are you?”

Dave smiled. “I’ll call you later.”

After hanging up with Strauss, Rossi decided to send a quick text to Hotch. Strauss is worrying. Give her a call when you can, would you?

Hotch replied about half an hour later. Just saw she called, about to call her back. I was out on a run

Rossi smiled, wishing he still had Strauss on the line so he could say See? He’s doing just fine.

+++

A day of surveillance taught Hotch a few things. 1. The unsub lives alone with his son. No other family members means no unnecessary casualties. 2. The unsub is home alone most of the day while his son is at school. Presumably working a remote job. 3. This will be easy.

Or so he thought, because the next day took a turn.

Everything went according to plan, until the unsub ruined it.

Hotch parked down the street. Went up to the unsub’s door, knocked. The unsub answered. Hotch, prompted, “I’m a retired FBI agent, Jason Gideon. I’m writing a book.”

The unsub’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed. “No you’re not,” he said.

Hotch narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I remember Jason,” the unsub laughed, good-natured. “You’re the other one, right? Morgan? No, Hotchner. That’s you. You were younger back then.”

Hotch was caught off guard from the start.

“You said you’re writing a book? Come on in.” 

Hotch took the opportunity and went inside, joking with the unsub that he introduced himself as Gideon in case he recognized him.

“No hard feelings,” the unsub joked back. “Want something to drink?”

Hotch didn’t answer. The unsub made the mistake of walking ahead, giving Hotch ample time to smack the unsub on the back of the head with the butt of his gun.

The unsub went down to his knees with a groan, but quickly regained his footing, spinning around to stare wildly at Hotch. “What the fuck?”

“Shut up,” Hotch hissed, barreling closer and swinging a punch, but missing. The unsub bolted for the back door and Hotch followed.

“You’re crazy!” the unsub yelled, twisting the back door’s knob. It didn’t budge. “What the fuck!”

“You killed your wife!” Hotch yelled back, cornering him against the door. “And you kept the kid. Do you hit him too?”

The unsub stared, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid with me,” Hotch growled, grabbing the unsub’s shoulders and slamming his head back into the door, forming a dent. “You know what you did.”

In one sudden move, the unsub lurches forward, knocking his forehead against Hotch’s, causing the latter to stumble backward.

“Shit,” Hotch cussed, anger brewing closer to the breaking point. “Oh, you--”

The unsub yanked the back door open and ran, the door shutting behind him just long enough. By the time Hotch wrenched it open and sprinted into the backyard, the unsub was gone, hiding in the woods.

“Fuck!” Hotch screamed, the sound coming from his chest. Not only was he recognized, but the unsub got away. Once he got his hands on him--

But for the next two days, that didn’t happen. The unsub fled the home, but Hotch knew, at least, that he wouldn’t dare go to the police. Not if he was as guilty as Hotch knew he was.

+++

Once the Florida case was over and the jet touched back down in Quantico, you knew you had to visit Hotch.

With flowers in hand -- that you nearly threw away five times on the way because you thought you looked ridiculous -- you knocked on Aaron’s door, not expecting him to answer. If he didn’t you planned to leave the flowers on the welcome mat. Either way, you were here to drop off flowers, check in, and say goodbye. That was all.

Hotch answered the door, shock covering him when he laid eyes on you. 

“Hi,” you said, holding up the flowers.

“Hi,” he echoed, standing in the doorway. “What can I do for you?”

You grimaced at the professional tone. “Just wanted to drop these off,” you handed him the bouquet. “And apologize for how things ended. For ratting you out.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright.”

“We miss you,” you said, smiling sadly. “But I hope you’re doing better.”

“I am,” he said, smiling softly. It almost looked too genuine, but you supposed that was a good thing. “And I’m sorry too.”

“It’s alright,” you echoed. “Don’t worry about it.”

And you left. Said something about how you just got back, didn’t get much sleep. He knew the drill. He said goodbye. And you left.

You left.

[gingerjolover]

4 with Jo PLEASEEEEEE 😭

hi baby!

i combined this with two other requests and it isn't really angsty (i hope that's ok <3)

wc: somewhere around 500 (the shortest king!)

josette maskin x fem!reader - #4 "Don't talk to me ever again."

You know you’re acting like a brat, but you can’t help it. It’s not Jo’s fault that while she’s gone, you get into a routine, and while you love having her home, it takes a while to readjust.

She was only trying to help you remind yourself. Many times. Well you're trying anyway.

You can’t help but look over at your dog, your sweet, innocent puppy, wearing what looks like a mini version of your favorite sweater. Except it IS your sweater. Jo took the initiative, and you’ll give them that, wanting to help with chores. An evening walk, dinner, and a heated makeout session that ended up in the shower proved to be enough of a distraction because the next morning, to your horror, you woke to find your poor cashmere sweater shrunken in the dryer. 

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Jo says, kneeling on the couch next to you. Your pout deepens, arms crossing further into your chest.

“At least Bleu looks cute… doesn’t he babe…look how cute our baby is…” Jo says, moving even closer to you, pressing little kisses to your cheek, hand rubbing your thigh. 

“You’re not helping,” you mutter, glaring at your puppy, rolling happily around on the couch, enjoying the soft cashmere sweater on his body. 

“I just–”

“Don’t talk to me ever again.” 

“Baby!”

“It was expensive Josie…I don’t even know if they sell that one anymore,” you whine, huffing at your partner. 

“Honey…” Jo breathes out, straddling your lap and pinning you to the couch. 

“Oof, Jo… you’re…squishing me,”

“I’ll keep squishing you until you listen…” they say, raising their eyebrows, waiting for the huff and eye roll that lets them know you’re listening. 

“I’m sorry honey, really, it was an honest mistake. I know I should’ve double checked before I put the load in the dryer, but in my defense…” Jo pauses, giving you a look, “I knew you were upstairs, in bed and naked, waiting for me so I was rushing.”

“Don’t put this on me,” you laugh, Jo’s lips on your neck. 

“I will put this on you, if you didn’t corner me in the laundry room after dinner and whip your shirt off– I– I wouldn’t have gotten distracted!”

“Oh please,” you giggle, pushing Jo off of you. 

Josette smirks, lifting you onto their lap and holding you close, hands rubbing up and down your legs. “I am really sorry, sweetheart… I’ll buy you a new sweater, okay?”

“Okay…” you murmur, looking up at them sweetly. 

“You forgive me?” Jo asks, smirking as they kiss your cheek. 

“Mhm…” 

“How about… I do that thing I did last night? Will that help you forgive me” Jo asks, wiggling their eyebrows. 

Your eyes widen, mouth parting slightly. “With your… the thing with your tongue?”

“I’ll give you a 10-second head start,” Jo says, a predatory gaze in their eyes, smirking at your legs shaking slightly. Jo laughs as you scramble out of their lap, waiting until you reach the bottom of the stairs before chasing after you, happy to make you forget all about the sweater. 

[lymoncat]

Aot bf scenarios: what clothing item you steal of his MODERN AU

why I’m writing this? I have absolutely no clue but you know what? That’s okay

Eren

His uniform cape

okay don’t get me wrong he wears that thing on most expeditions and you were doing his laundry… you saw it… you snatched it (I would too) you put it on and it was warm (mainly cuz it just got out of the dryer BUT EITHER WAY and I may know that this is modern AU but just shhhh) you tried to jump from the couch impersonating him and failed… miserably. You failed to land and hit your face on the counter and then he walked through the door, he sighed “really y/n, again?” (This isn’t the first time or the second, or third, you do this all the time) “yeah…” he takes you to the bathroom to clean up the bloody nose you got (f u counter) then he sat on the couch and ya’ll cuddled till you fell asleep

Armin

He has these really soft fluffy gloves-

your hands were cold cuz of eating an otter pop from frickin Walmart and you finished the food and saw the gloves. On. The. Table. (Pretend that the vision zooms in with each each of those three words) you grabbed them and put them on, later he came back from the library (typical Armin) and he saw them on you when you were petting the cat (yes you have a cat) and he blushed and smiled because it was adorable (yes reader you are adorable and perfect just the way you are)

Levi

his cravat. bro wears that thing 24/7 and he was taking a shower sooooo you pranced your happy ass on in there and snatched it and put it on in the mirror. Unfortunately he takes short showers so he noticed that it was gone and saw you wearing it… he thought it was cute and thus let you wear it on one condition, you had to make him tea.

Jean

his little cowboy hat from s4

you took it off his head and pretended to be Michael Jackson lol it’s that simple that is literary what happened

Connie

I feel like it would be his shoes

you had to go get something from the store and were in a hurry, y’all have matching pairs of shoes and the same size feet, you accidentally took his and left. You only realized when you looked down to pick something up that you dropped, you saw his name on the shoelace…. (Don’t ask but I just feel like that’s what Connie would do…)

Reiner

His shirt

You had finished your shower and realized that you forgot your shirt, you went to y’all’s room and decided to wear his shirt then you went out to the living room where he was watching tv you sat next to him and he saw it on you he smirked at the sight, he thought you looked so damn sexy in his shirt, let’s just say that you couldn’t walk the next day…

Bertholdt (go onto google translate and listen to how it’s pronounced, it’s weird af)

his hoodie

you were cold and went to his room to get your sweater and couldn’t find it, so you took his. When sweet baby saw you he was blushing you looked so cute and adorable and he just wanted to hold you. It was wholesome and adorable, you guys cuddled all night.

Now when they say you are adorable, believe it, you are beautiful/handsome/good looking I dont know your pronouns… but anyways, everyone has their flaws but that’s what makes you, you. Don’t ever believe anyone who tells you otherwise there are people who care about you. love u! <3

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 10

Tagging: @ophelialaufey@madamemaximoff06@forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator

TW: Self harm, blood

Things had changed in almost an instant. Y/n had finally called and was lucky that Oystein had actually answered and was excited that she had actually called. They talked for at least three hours and decided that they would entertain the idea of seeing one another romantically but they weren't even close to talking about any sort of title of ownership. Y/n laughed feeling like she was discussing buying a car together or something but Oystein didn't want to cause her any problems socially if they told people they were dating.

The only thing Y/n told him was that she refused to share dick with anyone. If he wanted to be able to fuck her or get her naked, it would only be her and no one else. He agreed without any hesitation.

Now here she was, backstage in a swampy bar watching the band drink and act like idiots while she sat atop Oystein's lap applying his corpse makeup. Oystein was practically vibrating when she agreed to come to the show but when she showed up in tight black jeans that hugged her hips deliciously and a top that he had never seen her wear before that allowed her tits to sit plumply and just cover her belly button. He was hard before she even greeted him.

"How do you plan on playing when I can feel how hard you are right now?" Y/n teased now sitting on his lap applying the paint with a smirk.

"Shut up. It's your fault." Oystein tried to keep his face still but he did take advantage of her in his lap, squeezing her hips in his hands trying to leave bruises.

"Thank you...for coming. I honestly didn't think you would show up." He kept his voice quiet and Y/n suspected he didn't want the band to hear him.

"I told you I would. I'm excited to see you play." She was genuinely curious as to their sound. She had honestly not listened to a single one of their songs in all the time she's known Oystein. She knew how in love with the music he was and wanted to see him do something he was passionate about.

"Two minutes Euro! Let's fucking go!" Hellhammer yelled just as Y/n finished the lip lines.

"I'm done!" Y/n started to push off his chest but he pulled her back to him like he was going to kiss her but she pushed his head down to kiss the top of his head.

"I don't put makeup on often. You aren't ruining mine or yours." Oystein rolled his eyes at her. She had said she would hold his leather jacket while he performed and was surprised it didn't smell fucking terrible. I mean let's be real, he was a gross, sweaty dude who ate entirely too many gyros and barely ran a load of laundry once a week but he had attempted to cover the smell with cigarettes and what she assume was dryer sheets.

"Where do you want me Dark lord?" Y/n watched Oystein adjust himself and freeze mid-hand in his pants giving her an evil glare.

"I'll find a spot on my own." She stuck her arms into the jacket and headed back out to where people had already filed in. She spotted some familiar faces and their friend with the camera was actually really nice to her. She made sure to stand on the side she knew Oystein would be on and the moment they came onto the stage, everyone started losing their minds.

Y/n clapped and screamed but out of respect for Oystein, she made sure not to scream out his name. She still wasn't going to call him Euronymous but she would cheer for him. He found her in the audience and tried to keep an eye on her as they started to play. Y/n watched him get lost in his playing. It was almost majestic. Pelle's voice wasn't what she was expecting but it was hauntingly beautiful. She couldn't understand a word of it but she was enjoying the show.

They were about 50 minutes into the show when Pelle started bringing out what Y/n assumed were props but was quickly mistaken. He used a long dagger to slice down his arm from his elbow to his wrist, almost like he was blood letting his own demons out onto the crowd only making them more frantic. Y/n threw her hands over her mouth and Oystein's eyes went from Pelle slicing his wrists to the disturbed look on Y/n's face as it was happening. Pelle didn't do this at every show but he picked the one night that Y/n would be standing in the audience to tear through his skin and pour himself onto the crowd before chucking the severed pig head into the savage people below.

Y/n felt her whole body shaking and hot tears on her face that she couldn't fight back. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to help him. She wanted to call for help. She couldn't do anything. She stood frozen, afraid that id she moved she would collapse. When they finished the final note of their final song, she finally pulled her gaze away from Pelle's bloody mess and saw Oystein who was staring at her horrified.

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Johnny Can't Decide

Johnny Suh x Reader

Word Count: 1,392

Content Warnings: ANGST, Johnny and Reader are stressed out and snap at each other. If you think I missed a warning let me know!

Author's Note: The title was taken from the song of the same name from "Tick, Tick... Boom!" Also there will be a part 2, and it will be posted as soon as it's finished!

Fic is under the cut.

“Johnny, can you change Mina’s diaper? I’m putting laundry in the dryer.”

Johnny froze the second he entered your baby’s nursery. Between work and being a new father, he was stressed constantly and had no idea how to ask for help. He knew he had to get his shit together, but he was lost when it came to taking care of a baby. It also didn’t help that he was barely sleeping, and he was only eating during his lunch breaks at work. His friends had offered to help in any way they could, but Johnny was unsure of what exactly they could help with. So, he always said he was fine. However, he was very much not fine.

“Babe, I asked you to change Mina’s diaper. Why are you just standing in the doorway?”

“I was just thinking, I’m sorry."

“Less thinking, more doing. She’s gonna get a rash if she isn’t changed right away,” you said as you changed your daughter’s diaper. Once she was changed, you put her to sleep. Then, you sat at the kitchen table to do some thinking of your own.

You were not handling being a parent well at all. You were barely eating, barely sleeping, and barely functioning most days. Your mother had stayed with you for the first few weeks to help you care for Mina, but she had to go back home to take care of your sick father. Your work had also piled up while you were on maternity leave, and none of your coworkers were willing to help. You felt like you were drowning, and almost no one was willing to step in and pull you up for air.

The only exception had been your best friend, Chaewon. No matter what you needed, all you had to do was call and she was by your side. When you needed to vent, she listened. When you were overwhelmed taking care of Mina, she babysat so you could rest. You were incredibly grateful for a friend like her. Especially when your child’s own father seemed to barely put in an effort.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Johnny giving you a hug from behind. As he hugged you, he said “I’m sorry. I’ve been really stressed out between work and the baby, and sometimes it makes me shut down. I promise I’m gonna be a better partner to you and a better father to Mina. I love you.”

“I love you too. Thank you, I needed a hug.”

“How about while Mina sleeps, we take the opportunity to get some rest? We could lie down on the couch and watch a movie.”

“That sounds great, honey. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

The two of you made your way to the couch, found a comfy position, and chose a movie from Netflix. It didn’t hold your attention long, however. The opening credits had barely finished and you were sound asleep on Johnny’s chest. He fell asleep shortly after you did, and the two of you got to rest and be together until a cry woke you up. Immediately you were off the couch and on your way to Mina’s crib, but you were stopped by Johnny, who insisted on giving you a break.

“Hey, little princess,” you heard from your bedroom, “how was your rest?” Mina cried louder in response, as if to tell her dad that she hadn’t slept well. “I know, little love, but it’s ok. I’ve got you. Daddy is right here.”

He carried her to the living room humming “Isn’t She Lovely,” a song that she had loved since the first time he sang it for her. You had no idea how, but something about it just instantly calmed your little girl. Hearing Johnny singing to her also filled you with joy that you never thought was possible before you became a mother.

The joy didn’t last, however. A month after your conversation with Johnny, you realized that nothing had really changed. He did help sometimes, sure, but most of the parenting duties continued to fall squarely on your shoulders. The only thing you could count on him to regularly take on was putting her to sleep with that stupid song. You used to love hearing Johnny sing to Mina, but “Isn’t She Lovely” had started to get on your nerves. The song that had once reminded you of your love for your baby and her father had become a cruel reminder of how little Johnny seemed to care. You decided that you would talk to Johnny again, and if he didn’t put in more effort, your relationship would be done.

The conversation went basically the same as it did last time, for the most part. He apologized and told you he was overwhelmed, but this time the two of you worked together to find ways to make everything that needed to be done less overwhelming. You called Chaewon, who had a daughter of her own, and asked her to help with taking care of Mina. She gladly agreed to help, and she and her husband, Mark, worked with Johnny a few days a week so you could rest. It was a good first step to what you hoped would lead to a stronger relationship and more balance in the amount of work done at home.

For about a month Chaewon and Mark helped Johnny get more comfortable changing diapers and making bottles. It was a huge help, and seeing Johnny so involved with caring for Mina made your heart soar. And anyone with eyes could see that Mina adored her father. She smiled every time he picked her up, and every time he sang to her, she was calm immediately. Their bond made you feel like no matter what, everything would be ok.

It only took a few weeks for everything to fall apart again. For a while after Chaewon and Mark stopped coming over, everything was great. Your little girl was taken care of, and both of you were feeling less overwhelmed. That all changed, however, when Johnny’s boss assigned him a huge project. Suddenly all of his time was taken up by work, and you were back to square one. He was also stressed all the time. This led to him snapping at you and ignoring Mina, and you were getting tired of the fighting. You decided to talk to him one night after dinner to see if you could come up with a solution.

“Honey? I noticed that you’ve been a little bit stressed about work. Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m fine, I just need to get this project done.”

“Johnny, darling, I love you. It’s obvious that this project is stressing you out, I just want to help.”

“I said I’m fine! God, why are you such a nag?”

“I’m not trying to nag you, for fuck’s sake. I’m trying to find some way to help you because you’re driving yourself crazy trying to finish this project!”

“I can handle it myself! Why does it bother you so much? I’m just trying to support you and Mina.”

“Do not bring Mina into this. You don’t even make an effort to be around for her anymore, you’re always fucking working.”

“Don’t act like I never make time for her.”

“You don’t, though. When was the last time you fed her or changed her diaper or put her to sleep?”

Johnny was silent.

“Exactly. I know that work can get stressful, believe me. My boss has me training 2 new people right now. But I can’t just ignore Mina when I’m stressed. She still needs to be taken care of, and I just wish that you would help me out a little bit.”

“You know that I have a lot on my plate right now”

“Yes, I know that. This whole conversation was supposed to be about how we could work together to fix that.”

Again, he was silent.

“You know what? I’m done. I’m gonna call Chaewon and see if Mina and I can stay with her. That will take some things off of your plate.”

Johnny started to say something, but was interrupted by a cry coming from Mina’s crib. You walked away to see what was wrong, leaving Johnny to think about what you had said.

You asked to be tagged, so @leejenowrld here it is! If you'd like to be tagged in part 2 either comment or send me a dm with the username that you want to be tagged. Thanks for reading! If you have a request either send it as an ask or a dm, and I'll write it as soon as possible!

[gabessquishytum]

Re: panty stealing neighbors

Dream's tired of his favorite panties being stolen right out of the dryer. His apartment is on the same floor as the laundry room so he often gets lazy about picking up his laundry right away.

One day he sets a trap for the panty bandit by leaving out a pair of red lacy panties at the top of his laundry basket while he goes back to "get detergent". He catches Hob red-handed, quite literally. Hob finally confesses that he's been quietly crushing on his hot neighbor and one day noticed Dream dropped a pair of dirty panties in the hallway on the way to laundry room. Hob took his opportunity and has been stealing Dream's underwear ever since.

But while Dream's in the middle of shaming Hob for being a pervert, Hob notices Dream is wearing a pair of HIS boxers, which he gleefully points out. Dream blushes, also caught red handed. Turns out Dream's been swiping Hob's underwear from the gym down the street. Dream's never gotten a reallllllllyyyyyy good look at Hob's face at the gym, he was always constantly distracted by the chest rug and his sexy hairy legs. So whenever Hob would shower at the gym, Dream would just nick the boxers and smell them for days after, then just wear them around the apartment.

Cue hot and bothered making out that ends in sexy times at Dream's apartment down the hall. And then cute little gifts of dirty underwear left in each other's apartment.

Off anon cause we already all know I'm a degenerate 😂💖

SEIYA MY BELOVED

thank you SO much for indulging my pantysniffing thoughts and expanding on this. i absolutely love it <33 also please know that the phrase "panty bandit" is now my favourite ever.

Just imagine Dream’s OUTRAGE. he's standing there, red faced, giving Hob a piece of his mind- "how dare you, do you know how disgusting you are, do you know how much these things COST?" And Hob listens penitantly, he really does, until he starts smirking.

And once Dream is done he's like "you're absolutely right love and I do apologise, but I think that your argument would have more weight if you weren't literally wearing my underwear."

Dream doesn't really have much of a response except to turn bright red (same colour as the panties, actually). He doesn't even use the gym anymore, he just goes there to hopelessly ogle men and steal his fave gym crush's boxers. It's not his fault! Hob shouldn't take them off in the first place! What's he doing, going commando in the gym?! He's just asking for trouble.

Hob grins and shrugs. Leans across to whisper in Dream’s ear - "I'm not commando now, sweetheart. I'm wearing some of yours." Dream literally moans out loud.

He gets to drag Hob back to his apartment (laundry abandoned) and take the contraband panties off with his teeth - which is no mean feat, considering how tight they are on Hob. They smell divine, but not as good as Hob’s actual body. Dream’s never been happier than he is between those sexy hairy thighs.

A couple of days later, Dream gets a delivery. First of all, a "fresh" pair of Hob’s boxers. And by fresh, I mean freshly covered in cum. Secondly, a new package of luxury lingerie, all in Dream’s size, with an accompanying note:

I'm keeping those red ones from the other day, so thought I'd better make up for it. Can't wait to see you ruin these for me <3

[yandere-fics]

♡ Kassien With Her Scent Obsessed Omega ♡

(Surprise sequel to laundry sniffing omega. Omega gets stuck in the dryer. Warning for Daddy Kassien again. No real smut, sorry for teasing you. Let me know what you think.)

You'd been dating Kassien for a couple of months now and so far it had been great except she worked regularly which lead to you often sitting on the floor of your closet after having removed everything from the hangers and burying yourself in her scent when it felt like your heat was closing in which often lead to most of her clothes being dirtied by your uhm... juices and her needing things quickly rewashed before she had to work which is what you were up to now.

Your alpha had insisted it wasn't that big of a deal but you still felt really guilty about it so most of the time after you used them, you made sure to at least put them in the laundry before Kassien returned home. You loved doing her laundry, you always felt sad washing something because soon herr scent would vanish from the item at least until she could rescent things for you and while you could just keep them, you really didn't want Kassien to know how much you dirtied her laundry so it was just best to say goodbye to the items fro now and have her rescent them later.

"Hmm, almost done, now I just have to fold everything." You pulled everything out of the dryer save for one sock that got stuck in the back. You knew Kassien would scold you for climbing into the dryer in order to get it since you could get hurt, she also told you if you couldn't reach it when your arm then you should use the grabber to get it instead of leaning in but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. It could hurt you however which is how you wound up stuck with her phone ringing, probably Kassien calling to ask if you wanted her to bring anything home since she was almost done for the night. That was just going to make her extra pissy when she got back cause you'd gotten yourself stuck and were unable to even call her for help, you knew she worried a lot, the laundry room would probably be off limits if she wasn't home from now on.

And thus there was only one thing to do in order to quell her anger, awkwardly shimmy until your pants came off somewhat and play it off as if this was a surprise for her the entire time, still you could only manage to get them somewhat off your butt but it would have to do for now because you heard the front door open with Kassien loudly growling about you not answering daddy when she called. She'd gotten back much quicker today, guess she was really angry you didn't pick up any of her calls.

"Lovely, come here." She gritted her teeth also extremely upset you had the audacity to not greet her with even a hug when she returned, she could smell you were awake, it wasn't like you were napping and just didn't hear the phone ringing, this was you willfully ignoring her in her eyes and so she started to stomp towards the laundry room where she heard you softly whimpering.

"Hi daddy, I'm sorry I couldn't answer your call, I was preparing a surprise for you but then I accidentally really got stuck." You tried to play it off hoping that would calm her a bit but she only hummed sliding your pants further down and staring at your panties that were quickly growing wetter, you squeaked as she hooked a finger through them quickly pulling them up and giving you a small wedgie.

"Is that so lovely, it looks to me," She paused pulling harder on your underwear making you let out a loud whimper before squeezing one of your asscheeks and spanking you hard. Damn it was really going to hurt to sit tomorrow. "Like my lovely mate disobeyed her daddy and it didn't go well did it?"

You shook your head rapidly before remembering she couldn't see you. "Yes daddy, I should have listened to you, I'm sorry daddy." She hummed in thought spanking you again twice before standing up and walking into the kitchen leaving you there to whimper before returning with what sounded like the toolbox.

"It's okay sweetness, now you know why daddy had that rule in place, no more laundry room when I'm not home and you'll get ten spanks for every minute daddy has to spend unscrewing and rescrewing the dryer door to free her baby."

"Yes daddy, I understand." She gave your ass another playful squeeze before reaching for the screwdriver to start trying to release you.

[freelancearsonist]

"are you wearing my shirt?" + Llewyn?

(so happy you're back hehe)

omg i love this one 🥺 thank you so much for sending this in and thank you for your kind words, it’s so good to be back 🩷

warnings: just fluff, one mention of period typical sexism (not llewyn), reader wears a nightgown, reader is a total introvert no i’m not projecting

Llewyn has a habit of showing up on your doorstep when you least expect it, maybe because he knows you’re too nice to turn him away. He never outstays his welcome—he has a keen eye for when you’re starting to feel a little suffocated and need your privacy back. After all, your shoebox of an apartment was definitely not made for more than one person—and that’s exactly why you chose it in the first place. As much as you love having friends and family around you, you very much value your solitude and need breaks from people on a regular basis.

So it’s strange that Llewyn’s been here for six nights in a row when his previous longest stay was three. And it’s even stranger that you’re not craving alone time the way you normally would be at this point. You like being around him, like having his gorgeous face to come home to every night. Especially with the long shifts you’ve been having to pull ever since your landlord raised the rent. He’s definitely a good listener, and he doesn’t mind you rambling about a horrid customer you had to deal with or the way your boss has been making inappropriate comments to all the women on staff.

The only bad thing is, these long shifts are leaving you with less and less time to get chores done. He hasn’t mentioned it, but Llewyn has been trying his best to help out around the house—washing the breakfast dishes after you realize you’re running late for work, restocking the fridge with your favorite wine when the bottle gets low, and generally trying to tidy up after himself. You’ve noticed the effort, and it makes your heart warm. He’s never tried so hard before, but it’s almost like he’s trying to impress you. Like he wants to take care of you.

You try not to get your hopes up, because Llewyn has been an infrequent house guest for the better part of three years and he’s never once shown any sign of romantic interest in you. Still, you can’t help the little crush you’ve been harboring. It’s hard not to fall for those sweet brown puppy eyes of his.

He’s a goddamn menace, and you love it.

You don’t realize you’re out of clean clothes until it’s too late. Thankfully your closet dries up on a Saturday that you don’t have to work, so you finally have time to do the laundry and catch up on a few other chores that need doing.

You’re about to say fuck it and rewear some dirty clothes, but there’s a few problems with that. One, working shifts in a diner is sweaty work and none of your clothes smell particularly appealing. Two, the man you would fall on your knees for is currently asleep on your couch and you don’t want to look anything but your absolute best around him—and that means skimpy shorts and loose-neck shirts, because what’s the harm in giving him something nice to look at?

You pad down the hallway in your nightgown, a threadbare garment that you would really rather not have him see you in, but there aren’t many other options. At least it doesn’t smell like you just dug your way out of a grave.

As you’re doing your best to load up the washer without making too much noise, you realize there’s a load of clean clothes in the dryer. Hardly able to believe your luck, you start digging through the load for something presentable to wear. But these fabrics are all unfamiliar, and your heart quickly sinks. These are Llewyn’s clothes, not yours.

So, you can stay in this ratty nightgown and pray that you somehow get a load of laundry through the washer and dryer before he wakes up. Not likely, considering the fact that it’s rare for you to wake up before him anyway and it’ll probably be a matter of minutes before he’s up.

Or, you can borrow some of his nice clean clothes, thank him profusely, and re-wash them for him once your load is done.

The choice seems obvious.

You find the perfect shirt right on top—a long button down that lands about mid-thigh at the longest part of the hem and covers just enough to not be a complete scandal. With your hair mussed up and the top two buttons undone, you look downright sexy.

You’re just starting the machine when Llewyn pads down the narrow hallway, stopping short at the door to the bathroom when his sleep-clouded eyes land on you.

You’ve never seen anyone’s pupils expand so rapidly, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Is that… are you wearing my shirt?”

You try to play coy, but you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that this is the pinnacle. There’s no getting out of this one, no way to keep pretending your feelings towards him are merely friendly. It’s terrifying and relieving all at once.

“Yeah, I umm… I didn’t have anything clean left. I’ll wash it for you when I’m done.”

He takes a step closer, and you can’t help but notice the way his chest heaves under that tight white tee of his.

“It looks good on you. Too good.” He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the soft warm of his breath on your face.

“Too good?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the way your voice trembles just a little bit.

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to take it off.”

That’s when you feel his hand, slowly making its way up your arm to toy at the fabric where the collar opens around your neck.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you say, “Make me.”

And that’s all it takes for his lips to crash against yours, mere moments before he makes good on your challenge.