#so i checked the laundry room and there's a space at the top of the wall

[butterflybabiie]

my cat was IN THE CEILING

[yeorisanaxox]

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ ➤ sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇs

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴛ8 x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ, sᴏᴍᴇ sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ, sᴍᴜᴛ

sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ➬ ᴛʜᴇᴍ sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇs

ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅɴɪ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs sᴏꜰᴛ ᴅᴏᴍ!ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ, ᴍɪɴɢɪ ᴅᴇᴀʟs ᴡ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴄᴀʀᴇ, ᴀss sʟᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ/ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋ ᴘɪɴᴄʜɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇs, ʟᴏᴡᴇʀᴄᴀsᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ ᴜᴘ ᴛɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴡ :,) ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪs ʜᴀʀᴅ ʟᴏʟ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ :)

ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ. You were trying to get dressed as quietly as you possibly could without waking up your boyfriend but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out where the hell you had tossed your damn pants the night before. Sure they had legs but they couldn’t just get up and walk off.

It had gotten so bad that you started checking in bizarre places like behind hoongjoong’s desktop and the little space between his headboard and wall but they weren’t there either.

Where the hell—

“What are you doing?” You jumped and whipped around to see your boyfriend sitting up on one arm. Not one wink of sleep was in his eyes, making you question how long had he been awake.

“I’m looking for my pants but I can’t find them…” you trailed off in your starting rant, noticing a certain glint in his eye and that’s when it clicked. That’s why he doesn’t look tired. Stalking up to his side of the bed and darting your hand out.

“Give me my pants.” You say with all seriousness.

“And why would I do that when this view is so much better?” Referring to you standing there in your panties. He teasingly bites his lip whilst reaching out to hook his finger in the band of them and pull you closer to him with one tug.

“How about you come lay back down and let me see you some more like this, and just maybe I’ll consider giving them back.”

sᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ. He probably wouldn’t have freaked out as much if it had happened at your place, knowing that sometimes yours and his laundry did get mixed up between visits. But because it happened at the dorms where any of the boys could’ve seen it. And just his luck, of course it was wooyoung who saw them.

“Hyung, I think you forgot something.” He turns and finds wooyoung skipping up to him with his hands behind his back. Did he? His laundry soap was sitting on top of his basket so it couldn’t be that. Did he maybe forget to empty the dryer fully? His face then flashes to something horrific at the sight of wooyoung holding your underwear just by the strap.

Never have he moved so fast, snatching the garment out of his hand, not without whipping him upside the head with them after.

“Ow!!”

“These are mine!” He spat stupidly, not thinking what he was saying. He was just trying to get them in the pocket of his sweats before any of the others saw.

“Since when do you wear—”

“You speak nothing of this. Nothing! Or else I’ll tell San it was you the one who spilt coffee on shiber.”

He didn’t even wait for his reaction before stalking off to his room, closing the door shut. Seonghwa let out a big sigh, pushing himself away from it and onto his bed where he then reaches for his phone and pulls up your contact to text you.

To y/n:

Found those panties you were looking for. You caused me quite the trouble. I think you should make it up to me…

ʏᴜɴʜᴏ. “What do you think about this dress, baby?”

Approaching him from behind, yunho puts his phone down to give you his— UNDIVIDED ATTENTION?? He gaped at the so-called dress you spun around in, the end just barely meeting your mid thighs and the material…well let’s just say, he could see your ass.

Out of nowhere, in your little fashion show, he starts laughing and clapping to himself, raising a frown from you.

“What’s so funny?” Folding your arms in offense. And just like that, he stopped, wiping his last fake tear before sliding forward to the edge of the couch with a more heartfelt tone.

“Baby. I can literally see your underwear through that dress.” He points at your rear, which you try and cover with your hands.

“You’re lying.” You scoff, ready to walk your way back to your room to see what he was talking about but his hand was quicker. Swiftly catching you by the thigh, he backs you into him and with the other hand, he grabs the end of your dress and pulls it up over the mound of your ass.

“Yunho!” You exclaimed and reached out in front of you to steady yourself on the coffee table.

“Yeah I can definitely see them now.” He chuckles darkly, sending chills down your spine as he fondled with one asscheek before delivering it with a hard smack.

“Bending over like this, anybody else would’ve seen them too…”

ʏᴇᴏsᴀɴɢ. The only time he ever really saw them was behind closed doors and that being just for a blink before tossing them somewhere on the floor.

So when you casually appear out of nowhere, walking up to him in one of his shirts and just your panties, he quite literally chokes on the water he was drinking and gaped at you as if you had grown two heads.

First of all, you looked stunning as hell in his clothes but seriously, what the fuck?!

“Are you crazy?!” He panics and hurriedly pulls you down into his lap, covering you both with some blanket that happened to be next to him.

“If one of the guys were to come back and saw you, I would never hear the end of it.”

Especially from wooyoung. God—He mainly wouldn’t let something like this go without endlessly teasing him about it for at least a month.

There then was a long moment of silence, the only source of sound came from the show playing in front of you that was long forgotten, that was till yeosang breaks it.

In the quietest of voices, you were still able to hear, “They’re really cute tho.” Despite his face being buried in your shoulder.

sᴀɴ. He’d usually knock before entering your bedroom when he knew you went to change but at the moment wooyoung wasn’t making any sense in his spawn of messages and on top of that, san’s phone was about to die.

‘Charger. Charger. Charger.’ Was the only thing going off in his head, almost making himself run into a wall because he was trying to respond at the same time that it didn’t even register to him that he had barged in on you until you let out a squeak.

“Oh—I’m sorry baby,” he instantly covers his eyes as if he hasn't seen you in your underwear before.

“It’s okay. You just scared me, that’s all.” Breathing out relief. “Good thing you’re here though,” your tone instantly switching to a more bubbly one. “What do you think about these? I got them for a great deal at the mall.”

He then removed his hand and looked as you gave him a little 360 of the new panties you were sporting. Cute and minimum coverage. Just how he liked them.

“So pretty.” His tone being soft while he reaches out to pull you in by the hip to get a better look. His fingers sneakily wander over the material and even more slyly pinches your cheeks, causing you to yelp and smack his chest.

To sum up the story, his phone eventually ended up dying so whatever it was wooyoung needed to say, it was gonna have to wait until he was done with you.

ᴍɪɴɢɪ. You were already long gone by the time he came back with a warm washcloth and a fresh pair of panties to clean you up with. All those times you teased him the following morning for falling asleep immediately, now look at you. He finally had something to get you back with. But for the moment, all he wanted to do is take care of you.

Gently, he spread your legs without waking you so that he could start cleaning you. Once he was done, he then shimmied on your panties, making sure they were comfortable sitting on your hips.

There. He thinks to himself, smiling suddenly at what he picked out. The red and green cherry pattern was in complete contrast to your purple bra that was peeking out over your tank top. So he may have or not picked them up just because they were cute but hey, at least you covered. That was his logic.

He pulls your strap back on your shoulder while also leaning down to press a tender kiss against your forehead, “I love you.”

ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ “wooyoung, please.” Bucking your jean-clad pussy into his hand, trying to get more friction. If you didn’t need him so badly and knew that you could make yourself feel twice as good, you wouldn’t even be putting up with his teasing. But the hard reality was that you couldn’t. And he knew that just as well.

That’s why getting you all worked up was more pleasurable for him. That if at any point he stopped, you were going to beg him til tears. He knew just how to get what he wanted from his little princess and exactly how to make her behave.

“So wet for me and I haven’t even taken these off.” He giggles in your ear, referring to the dark patch that was dead center of your crotch.

“Let’s see now. Can woo see?” He laughs again at your frantic nodding. His hands then work on the bottom of your jeans, popping it open before shimming them down your legs.

“My, my, my. What do we have here?”

Just as he expected. You had seeped right through your panties, which he couldn't help but notice they were the ones he bought you for Valentine’s Day. You only wore them on special occasions.

“You wore these just for me?” He cooes and grabs the top of them, and pulls them up so that the seat was rubbing right on your clit. You moaned loudly at finally getting some stimulation, basking in it as long as you can.

“We’re gonna leave these on. That alright?”

ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did you say yes to spending the night? You never spent the night. Not because you didn’t want to. Hopefully he never thought that for all those times you turned down his offer. It’s just that— spending the night meant sharing the same bed. And while that doesn’t seem too big of a deal, you were still nervous because you only slept in your underwear.

Sleeping was more comfortable that way and solely why you had always been afraid to spend the night. You didn’t want to weird him out with your little habit.

Sensing your hesitation to climb in the bed after him, he frowned as you stared at the empty space beside him in deep thought.

“Hey,” he reached out to touch your hand in a loving manner, drawing your attention from the empty space to meet his eyes.

“If you’re uncomfortable with this, it’s okay. I’ll sleep on the floor and you take the bed.”

“No, no! It’s not that. It’s just…” you take a long pause before letting out a defeated sigh. There was no other way to tell him at this point.

“I only like to sleep in my underwear. My legs get too hot if I’m in pants but I didn’t want to weird you out because this is your room and I have no right to do what I want—”

Mid rant, somehow Jongho managed to scoot closer to you without you noticing and pulled you down, shutting you up with a brief kiss.

“It’s okay, doll. You can sleep in your underwear if you want. I just want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

He gives you an reassurancing smile whilst gently squeezing your hand. You return one of the same before letting out another sigh and stepping back to shimmy out of your pants. Blushing instantly at the way he eyed your panties, “pretty,” was all he said as he pulled you down in the bed with him.

written by yeorisanaxox. No translations or reposting. Leave a like and reblog w [feedback is much appreciated] ✨

[karlachismylife]

Local Spot || The Queen of the Clan pt.6

CW: fem!chubby!reader, some tame unwanted attention.

If not for man-made structures, you wouldn’t be able to tell the border between the territory of the natural reserve you got your filming permit for and the sanctuary that cuts off a smaller part of the landscape. Fenced off, it looks just the same – no surprise there, to be honest; sunlit tall grass, sandy and dusty ground and scattered trees, shielding the inhabitants with their shadow. No doubt, they have water sources too – everything in sanctuary’s power to tend to quite simple needs of animals that can’t be let out back into the wild after surviving each their own trauma. Driving past the tall mesh that makes sunbeams ripple when hitting your little Rover caravan, you try covering your eyes to look into the reserve, but no animals come close to the road, hidden securely somewhere deep in their new forever home.

“I hope you’re prepared to be blown away by the luxurious housing, we’re working our asses off to impress city cookies like you here.” With a distinct chuckle, Kir beckons you inside, holding a simple plywood door open for you and dropping your backpack from his shoulder on the porch of the little cabin – a whole line of them drags along a narrow road, animals’ enclosures basically on the other side of the “street”. Land too expensive, government too hesitant to “lose” everything it could provide by leaving it as untouched reserve; thus, someone had to make room for their neighbours, and humans decided to sacrifice their own comfort for the sake of the animals.

“Check this out,” Kir waits until you finish looking around the single room that serves as bedroom, living room, office – even a kitchen, if you can count the tiny portable stove and a kettle on a counter – and with a theatric gesture of a magician opens a narrow door, revealing the tiniest bathroom behind it: a toilet, a small sink hanging off a wall and just a cheap curtain to separate the shower area with a drain in  the floor. “Not bad, huh? No hot tub, but pretty close. Don’t recommend you putting candles and champagne there, though, if you even mange to find those around here somehow…” Laughing with you at the deeply impressed and amazed expression you feigned at the sight of your lavish bathroom, Kir raises a finger calling for your attention once more and then struggles with the sink tap for a moment, finally getting it to sneeze and run clean water. “Actually working plumbing. You feeling like a queen yet?”

“Grandiose, brother,” you snort and come closer to hold a handful under the stream, gathering slightly warm water and using it to wipe sweat from your face and neck. “But no, really, don’t think there’s much more I could need, so this is perfect. You’re my neighbour or what?”

“I’m just three cabins away, door’s always open for you.” Having closed the tap, Kir shuffles his way out of the cramped space and leaves your cabin, hands in his pockets. Remembering something, he turns on his heels and nods at your backpack. “Laundry’s in the main building, there are bags to separate yours, it’s all done together in the mornings so it’s best to leave yours in the evening. Oh, and I’ll ask around about something to get rid of the stink.”

With a dazzling grin and a wink, Kir salutes you and finally turns his back, returning to work and leaving you to sort through your belongings and settle in. If everything goes well, you’ll spend just a few days here before the head of your crew successfully prolongs the filming permit and you head out into the savannah once more. Having this bureaucratic delay doesn’t feel good, but in a weird way you feel relieved.

You don’t think you would be able to leave this place without a heavy heart if the shoot lasted just three weeks like planned initially.

Settling on the top step of your low porch, you pull your backpack closer and hold your breath instinctively, even though a week in the wild has somewhat tamed the stink. It’s not strong per se, but it has a stinging undertone of concentrated boiled soap, to the point where it almost tastes sweet on the back of your mouth roof. Scoffing, you pull your belongings out of it, throwing crinkled plastic bags onto the floor behind you.

Finally reaching the one with dirty laundry inside, you grab it along with the empty backpack itself and make your way all the way to the main building, quick to find the laundry room – just as tiny as everything else. You empty your crumpled laundry into a nice canvas bag and write down the slightly scraped off number on it to know which one to pick up later, and then drop off the backpack in the corner, only just noticing teeth marks on it in several places – a chewed up strap mostly.

Somehow you don’t even doubt it was all Stinky’s doing.

“Adorable bastard,” you grumble under your breath and nearly ram into Kir’s firm chest at the door, too distracted with thoughts of your spotted acquaintance trotting around somewhere in the yellowish grass of the savannah.

“You called?” He laughs watching you roll your eyes and squeezes past you with a pat on your shoulder, a spray bottle of some kind in his hands along with his own laundry. “It’s for your aromatherapy backpack. If you want, you can spray it yourself, I’ll finish my shift sooner and we’ll hit the town. Bet you didn’t get a good look around when you arrived, yeah?”

Only fair for you to deal with your stink problem yourself, Kir already went above and beyond to help you, so you take the spray from his hand and return to the corner to drag your backpack outside, humming in response.

“No, they picked us up pretty quickly… only saw the bus station basically.” You shake the rattling bottle and make a trial spray, high-pressure mist with another harsh, sweet smell – most similar to a mosquito repellent – bursting into the air. The sticker on the can reads as some water- and sweat-repellent for shoes. “Anything interesting to see?”

The spray hisses, covering your backpack in a generous cloud of chemical smell and slight plastic-y glint after it settles. From inside the laundry room Kir raises his voice, admitting that there’s basically nothing except a couple stores and a dingy bar that can be of interest – it’s still worth it, you decide: just fifteen minutes of scootering down a bumpy dirt road and you get to buy something to treat yourself after a week on canned food and maybe even get a drink.

“I’ll come knock on your door then after I finish, then.” Kir leaves the laundry room and catches the spray can you throw him – if your watering eyes and coughing are any indicators, you’ve applied more then enough. Hanging the backpack outside to let it air out the possibly deadly concoction of sweat repellent and hyena sprayings, you finally drag yourself to your cabin.

A cool shower and a little bit of gentle persuasion via banging on the kettle stand until the loose contact clicks and the heating starts, you settle on your porch with your thermos and breathe in deeply. Nothing disturbs you, the feeling of being watched forgotten like it wasn’t even there. Must have really been the savannah getting in your head..

Sun is slowly sliding to the west, still high, but already a bit dimmed and oranged by the incoming dusk. Dry, clear air is rippling and throbbing above the ground, cooling off, weak wind snaking through the dust of the little road. Crickets and cicadas are chirping repetitively, like an ancient ethnic instrument from the good old times when music had more rhythm than melody. From your steps, you can’t make out which direction the call comes from, but somewhere on the sanctuary’s territory roars a buffalo – must be that young bull Kir told you to be careful around.

Two of the sanctuary employees walk past you, dirty gloves and sweaty noses – they smile and nod at you, barely interrupting a lively discussion, something about water going green in one of the biggest water sources. That’s not good, you think, but they don’t look particularly worried. More like confident.

Like they know what they’re doing and why.

Closing your eyes, you take another deep breath and sip your tea, careful not to burn your mouth. Red and pink prints of the vascular system in your eyelids mix with the way you already saw sky go up in flames at sunsets here, a peaceful feeling washing over you. There’s serenity in the way life flows measuredly around here, clocks and calendars slowly growing meaningless in the face of greater time countdown – seasons and solar cycles dictating times to migrate, to hunt, to procreate. People here made the decision to tie their lives to the nature, preserving and studying, and thus their time obeys the same laws, no hectic anxiety of semesters, quarter reports and tight schedules keeping them in a never-ending race.

It’s a blessing – to do the right thing with a reasonable pace, day after day, knowing you have something meaningful to do every time you wake up. In the outside world no one thinks highly of someone digging elbow-deep into the green mud of a small pond antelopes come to drink from, but here it matters.

You’d like to matter.

“Thinking of me with that smile on your face, I hope?” Kir’s cheeky voice drives you out of the meditative headspace and you open your eyes lazily, wrinkling your nose at him – he even made sure to approach you in a way that wouldn’t obstruct the softened sunrays caressing your face.

“Yeah, you wish. We’re going already?” With a grunt, you raise to your feet with his assistance, noticing just how long you must’ve been sitting there, daydreaming. Kir nods and plops a helmet on your head, adjusting the strap under your chin.

“Shopping first, then the bar?” He leads you to the several scooters in sanctuary’s possession, rolling the most new-looking, sandy and just slightly scraped on the wings, on the road and helping you onto it. The machine dips under your combined weight, but Kir doesn’t seem concerned, starting up the engine and driving off the sanctuary territory.

Nearby town can barely pass as one, looking more like a glorified village – small buildings, no higher than three stories, basically a single curved street between them and continuing on to the bigger road. Finally seeing it in the daylight and without the exhaustion of a long trip that kept weighing your eyelids down when you first arrived there on a bus to be picked up by your crew, you find it just as charming – as well as noticing some larger signs of civilization a couple kilometers to the west, tall power transmission poles and antennas around some fenced off facility.

While you try to remember if there was something industrial mentioned when you read about the place you were going to, Kir drags you inside a cramped convenience store, literal mountains of fresh fruits, vegetables and nuts in crates at the entrance and the most random selection of imported goods on the shelves – in a moment of weakness, you pick up some suspiciously looking lime-flavoured crisps and a few cans of cold soda from a fridge that sounds like a fighter aircraft going down from a direct hit, but still manages to keep products inside cool and wet with the condensate.

You leave the store, chewing on some dried fruits Kir helped you choose – even got a discount from a familiar cashier that was happy to inform that they can place orders for some goods if you’re planning to stay longer. Behind your cheerfully polite smile you felt that same wave of belonging that keeps coming back to you.

“We’re a bit late, so all the tables are probably taken, do you mind sitting at the bar?” After you leave your groceries in the scooter trunk, Kir leads you up to the pub, its neon sign already glowing in the slowly approaching darkness, and holds the door open, nodding at the bar counter with just three free stools to your luck.

Keeping in mind that he has “precious cargo” to deliver back, as he calls you, he orders a coke for himself and pays for your cider, promising that it’s one of the things you can actually drink there.

“That’s my favourite, the pear one. When I come here on foot, always grab a bottle or two.” You lean onto the counter, feet dangling above the dirty wooded floor, as you chat with him – he indulges you in the town gossip with some additions from the bartender, making you chuckle as the cider tickles the roof of your mouth. It’s actually good, you admit, and Kir buys you another one before leaving to the bathroom “to see if they have another spider infestation”, which earns him a shoulder slap from the bartender.

When you turn to watch him make way through packed room, you feel your heart stop for a moment, like a prey that finally notices it’s being watched. It’s a fleeting sensation that almost immediately disappears, but you almost hit yourself in the teeth with the bottle neck, once you notice them.

Four men in the furthest corner, staring at you openly – they’re not trying to be discreet, the bearded one saluting you with his whiskey tumbler and two of his buddies flashing you smiles. Friendly smiles, not the ones that make your skin crawl in similar bar encounters back in the big city. Even the one with his face covered by a mask and arms crossed over his bulky chest nods at you and sinks further in his seat, as if it could help him look smaller and less threatening. They seem chill, clearly minding their own business and avoiding the other patrons in that corner, not interested in the rowdy fun of a work day evening among tired people unwinding before heading home.

To fight that initial creeped out feeling, you nod back at them, quickly averting your gaze with a chuckle once you see them light up almost too obviously. Must’ve been ogling you for quite some time, if the smallest acknowledgement gets you such a reaction. It’s kinda sweet, their excitement radiating from the corner, and you watch from the corner of your eye them exchanging a few words before one of them has to force the big guy with a mohawk back into his seat, as if he was already ready to rush through the bar to talk to you.

“I go away for five minutes, and you’re already making eyes at someone?” Your eyes shoot up to see smiling Kir, but as you watch his expression change once he glances over his shoulder at your four watchers, your brows knit together. “Oh, no, cookie, you stay away from that folk, alright? Come on, let’s go, before they come up here.”

Before you even can object, Kir tugs on your elbow insistently, and you have no choice but to grab your almost finished bottle, say a hasty goodbye to the bartender and follow him, stumbling from the sheer force he drags you with, clearly in hurry to get out of the tightly packed bar.

“Hey, can you at least explain? I’m coming, don’t need to drag me, you know,” you try to keep your irritation down. After all, he has done nothing but look out for you, and if there’s anyone you can trust to know all locals, it’s him. Still, you steal a glance at the four-men company and get the unsettling feeling once again, this time not without a reason: the concentrated, slightly frowning looks all four of the men watch you leave with, don’t feel as friendly anymore.

It's only outside, once the night breeze strokes your heated from the alcohol and crowd proximity cheeks, that Kir lets go of your arm and sighs, putting the helmet on you. His voice sounds hushed, and he looks you dead in the eyes, as he says:

“Don’t mess with them, don’t even talk to them, okay? No one wants them here, they’re not locals. The less business we have with them, the better, especially since you’re here just temporarily. I don’t trust them, and you shouldn’t either. Can you promise?”

By the way you look at him, utterly confused, Kir finally realizes how paranoid he sounds and runs a hand over his face, before looking around and leaning to your ear to say even quieter:

“They’ve been roaming around for months already, cookie. They’re military. They’re bad news from the West.”

Suddenly, you realize what that fenced off facility you saw earlier was. A military base.

Just twenty minutes away from the natural reserve.

Part 5 | Part 6.5 | Part 7

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861 @darkangel4121 @ginger-n-coco @grey-shadow6475 @cryingpages @mothsdrabbles @mc-glare-is-king @vixxie22 @aldis-nuts @terraantarctica @henhouse-horrors @blizzivy @perfectus-in-morte @danielle143 @llavalada @yukichan67 @sleepisfortheweakpooh @ilxina @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @misscaller06 @etherealinthewoods

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Gorgeous 1889 Queen Anne Victorian in Omaha, NE for under $500k. 7bds, 2.5ba, 3,656 sq ft, with central a/c, $430k.

Look at the floors- the entrance foyer looks like it has original tile, and the new wood flooring has inlaid around the perimeter. Plus, all the wood is natural - no paint-overs.

Look at the millwork on the stairs, the wainscoting, and built-in bench. The wood looks like it's been refurbished.

Cute small sitting area in the turret tower.

They decided to go with a dark theme, but the house gets plenty of light. Look at the re-done fireplace. Beautiful original design.

This is nice, the dining room has a door to the porch.

This room looks like a dining room, also. Maybe the other room is supposed to be the 2nd sitting room, but this room has the beautiful built-in cabinet and look at the original fireplace.

The kitchen has hi-end appliances, but hasn't been given one of the horrid modern remodels. It clearly has the original footprint of the room and minimal modernization.

It still has modern cabinetry, but they did their best to keep it as original as possible- they left the brick wall and stove pipe opening where the original stove was, and put in open top shelving. Look at the staff stairs on the left, too.

That looks like a refurbished original cabinet in the corner. I would definitely have to ditch the gray walls, though.

Love this original looking sink in the guest powder room.

Beautiful wainscoting and millwork going up the stairs.

They went full-on funky with this bedroom. Looks like an original light, though.

I wish they would've papered the whole feature wall in here. There's a nice curved wall and I guess the bed goes against the black wall w/the 2 light fixtures.

This nice, especially if you need an art studio.

Not bad, they did a vintage-y redo in here. So, it needs some wallpaper and decor.

This bedroom needs some floor work. I would sand and repaint it.

The other bath is smaller and all it needs is some decor.

Nice laundry space in the basement, but that's not the best part of the basement.

They made an exercise room, but still not the best part.

Check this out- with a little work, this can be the coolest mini theatre or TV room. A sunken cinema. And they left the old theater seating.

Look at all the wonderful porches. It definitely appears that there's a big unfinished attic w/the turret. What potential. Wish they would've at least shown it unfinished.

There's parking, but no garage. (Look at all the windows in the attic space, plus that turret.)

4,356 sq ft lot

https://www.redfin.com/NE/Omaha/3524-Hawthorne-Ave-68131/home/103522512

[mhahaikyuus]

You're back

wc:; 1.6k

tags:; angst to fluff, izuku x reader, aftermath of a fight, domestic izuku x reader, established relationship, pro-hero Izuku, very fluffy end

a/n: hope you guys enjoy. reblogs appreciated.

You’re breaking his heart with one sentence and sad eyes. 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Can you just look at me.” Izuku said desperate trying to catch your eyes. 

You avoided his eyes looking down with teary eyes and wobbly lips. 

“I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” He said watching as you turned into yourself trying to be as small as possible. 

“I never-never-God I didn’t mean it I was mad.” His stomach turning and eyes watering at his mistake. Taking a stressful day out on you. 

You nodded your head just wanting to leave. Unable to, your green haired boyfriend earlier picking you up and driving you to his house. 

“I understand…I’m going home.” You whispered. 

“Okay I’ll drive you.” Izuku said. Going to grab his keys. Driving you home he could get you food and have you in a close space. 

Begging you for a kiss and forgiveness and you would roll your eyes before kissing him back. He could fix things, he could make you remember how much he loved you.  

“ Im walking.” You said weakly watching the sunset from his window reaching for your bag on the floor.  

Izuku felt his heart drop. 

You wouldn’t even be in the same car as him? 

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry. I-I…I get that you’re upset but it’s getting dark please let me take you home.” 

You shook your head, meaning what you said. 

Walking out the door he deflated. Izuku knew following you home would anger you more. 

You walked home as he checked your location breathing a sigh of relief at you making it home. 

He cried like a baby wondering how he had screwed up so badly. What if you never wanted to speak to him again? He wouldn’t blame you but it would destroy him. 

The look on your face as he begged you to talk to him crushed his spirit.

You needed time. You loved Izuku more than anything but you needed space from him. Time to heal from what he had said to you. 

While Izuku was breaking apart with each passing second. You were trying to piece yourself back together. 

It had been about a week of your break. Izuku wasn’t sleeping or eating and not going to the gym. Barely making through the numerous patrols and meetings. 

You left Sunday night and didn’t come back to the apartment til Friday night. He had taken all overnight shifts, not being able to stay in the apartment without you there. The smell of you on the comforter made him nauseous. Only thinking if you never came back that would be the last thing left for him. 

Entering your shared apartment you pulled off your shoes, and let down your hair. Noticing the apartment looked exactly the same. 

The bowl you ate a snack in before the fight still in the sink, the couch still covered in a laundry session. The apartment was completely dark and untouched. 

Sleeping in an empty bed you fell asleep fast happy to be out of a hotel room. Not hearing your exhausted boyfriend come in at 5am from a long shift. Finally coming back to the apartment after so long away. Izuku couldn’t spend another night on his office couch. He needed to smell your pillow and cry. He took off his shoes and paused at the differences in the apartment from when he had left it. 

Your keys in the bowl by the door, the lamp in the living room on, your bag and jacket placed in the living room and the A/C running. 

You came back. 

You were home. 

He rushed down the hallway to see your figure buried under blankets on your side softly sleeping. 

Izuku broke down in tears. Unzipping his hero suit to be only in his boxers. 

He climbed into bed tugging you into him. Tears wetting his face and the top of your head. You let out a small groan still deep in REM cycle but cuddled into your boyfriend and his strong chest. 

“You came back to me.” He whispered almost crushing you in his grasp not wanting to let go. 

You woke up a couple hours later around 10am to your ribs unable to expand to their fullest making it hard to take a full breath. Squinting your sensitive eyes you recognized wild green tuffs of hair buried in your neck and his buff heavy body laying on top of you. 

Bringing a hand up you begin to rub his scalp. 

He groaned before tightening his hold on you. 

“You’re back.” He whispered 

Nodding your head you tried to move from his hold. 

“Im hungry,” You grumbled trying to loosen his grip and slip from underneath him. 

“Okay.” He said pulling his head from your neck. Sitting up on his knees and picking you up from your arms. 

“Oh- my.” You gasped at him lifting you easily and carrying you to the kitchen. His big body able to hold you at the waist and stride into the kitchen. 

“I can walk.” You said holding onto his neck trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes

“I know you can. I don’t want to be away from you.” Izuku said in his gravely deep morning voice sitting on the kitchen chair. Sitting on his lap facing him in the chair. You leaned forward your forehead on his shoulder. 

“Can I get up or are you going to hold me down.” You asked after a couple beats of silence as he rubbed your back. 

He nodded but the second you got up you had a shadow following you. Izuku following you like a lost puppy. 

Standing at the stove you felt him leaning into your back. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” You asked looking up at him. 

“Im not hungry.” He said with hand holding the back of your shirt with his thick fingers. Like a child gripping the back of your shirt. As though he was afraid you were going to disappear.

But he was lying. 

Your boyfriend could eat 3x the average man with his regime and routine as a pro hero. What you didn't know that in your absence your man had lost his appetite for food and hadn't been eating.

You hummed at his answer still pulling out food from the fridge. 

“Do you need help?” He asked shyly as though he was afraid to upset you as you started.

“No Im okay.” You said stirring in the pan 

He hovered by you the entire time you cooked. When you finished cooking the obscene amount of food for both of you, you began to plate the breakfast. 

Izuku let go of your shirt to grab your favorite mug and fill up your drink. 

You sat down and nudged his plate to him even if he said he wasn’t hungry. 

He hesitated at the pile of food you had just made for him. 

Not that he wasn’t hungry. He was starving.

Not that he didn’t want to eat your cooking. Trying to figure out how to apologize for what he had done. 

He missed you so badly his chest physically ached with every breath. Now you were back in his arms with the same warm smile you only had for him and back in your shared apartment. Trying to fix what he had broken because you loved him that much. 

“You made me breakfast.” He said in a small voice 

“Yea.” You said taking a sip of your steaming drink

“You made me breakfast…thank you” He said placing his head in your neck. You gently rubbed his nape as he held onto you hand coming back for your shirt.  

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I missed you…so much” Izuku mumbled gripping your shirt pulling you closer to him dragging your chair closer to his. 

“I know, I know. I needed time. But I still love you okay? Im not going anywhere.” You reassured him knowing he was hurt. 

He nodded into your chest. 

“Come here.” He said pulling you into him now sitting on his lap again. You both sat there in silence staring into each other’s faces. Rubbing your thumb against his cheek just how he liked. 

Initiating the kiss he had been desperate for all week. 

Slipping a bit of tongue into your lover’s mouth, he sighed in relief. You still loved him, still kissed him like you always did.

“Eat, its going cold.” You said and he nodded as you wiped his face for him. 

You sat in his lap drinking your warm drink as he ate the mountain of food you had prepared for him. Taking what you didn’t finish from your own plate. 

Sitting in his lap enjoying your drink when you felt your shoulder become wet. 

Your boyfriend was sniffling with wobbly lips and running eyes. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying baby?” You said gently wiping his face as he cried.

“I’m sorry. I hurt you and you still came back and now i’m eating your breakfast. I don’t deserve you. I didn’t think you would come back.” 

“You made a mistake, and I know you are sorry. Stop apologizing. I just needed time okay? I still love you so much.” You said gently running your hands through his thick curly green hair. 

He nodded and you stretched his cheeks to make him laugh. 

“There’s that cute smile.” 

“I missed you.” He said with wet freckled cheeks sniffling 

You leaned up and gently bit his cute freckled cheek. 

“Did you miss my bites?” You asked soothing his pink skin with a light peck. 

He nodded, “I love your bite marks.” 

“Good because you’re going to be covered in them by tomorrow.” Kissing his face as he happily took whatever affection you offered him. His large arms wrapped around your body never wanting to leave you. 

[carolmunson]

in the still of the night

soft!gf!reader x depressed!eddie

became a woman posessed and decided i needed to write something about taking care of my baby cow eyes sad bf. tw: as always, minors dni. themes of depression/mess. mention of minor character death. reader wears eddie's clothes. some suggestive language. showering together.

Steve called for a check-in just to call you right after, said he'd offer to drive. You peek into the darkened trailer, hearing the scratch of the record player in the living room. Too tired and achey to make it to his bed last night and too defeated to leave the couch all day today -- not even to flip The Animals record to the B-side. Rain patters on the tin roof, curtains drawn but not thick enough to keep out the gray light from spilling in through the bare threads of years of use. He faces the back cushions, hugging a pillow, knees tucked under the bottom. A kid in his adult disguise, he always gets like this around the anniversary of his mom's passing. You ease in, lightly closing the storm door behind you. The soft gray glow in the kitchen leaves you a little sullen. Half done dishes on a rag on the counter -- two smashed glasses scattered across the tile. Evidence of his frustration part way through the task, you can practically hear his desperate 'I don't wanna do this,' while he threw them. You let out a breath through your nose silently, noting the piles of laundry on the table by the washing machine across from the living room. He hadn't let you come over in a couple weeks, it's clear why now. When you tip toe onto the brown shag carpeting by the record player you ease the needle off the disc. The steady rise and fall of his back and shoulders aids your next move. You clear off the McDonald's bags from nights of fast food off the coffee table like a mouse, making sure not to crinkle anything too much. You don't want to stir him. Once clear, you walk around it, taking a seat on the edge of the couch by his feet -- hand reaching out to run comfortingly over his back. "Hi baby," you say softly, "It's me." He stirs, looking down to see you there, confused. He looks down at himself, same pajamas he's had on for three days, unshowered, unshaven. He's embarrassed, he never let's you see him when he's like this. Eddie's face crumples when the realization sets in -- it's not a dream and you're there, seeing his filthy trailer, seeing what happens when he's not okay. You're not supposed to see this, even when you're so sweet on him every time you do.

"What's goin' on, bub?" you ask in just above a whisper, "What're you thinkin' about?" His brows pull in, jaw getting tight when his nose starts to tingle with the start of a cry. His eyes water, shining in the light of the overcast through the threadbare curtains. One hiccup turns to two, and then he starts. "S'just been hard," he sniffles, "I'm just havin' a h-hard time." "I know," you soothe, still rubbing his back, "It's that time of year." "You sh-shouldn't be here," he shakes his head, shoulders shaking while the sobs start to over take him, "You kn-know I'm not like th-this." "Shh, I know, I know," you coo, climbing into the space between him and the back of the couch, squishing over him slightly, "I can help. I wanna help." He welcomes your body along his, you manuever so he's partly atop you, replacing the pillow with your torso. His face finds home in the crook of your neck, while you scratch at the top of his scalp the way he likes it.

"You smell good," he says wetly into your skin. "Thank you," you whisper. You both lay there for a little bit, letting him cry, letting him listen to the rain while it picks up outside. The living room gets a darker while the storm rolls further through the park and evening sets in. He settles after some time, your neck and shouler damp with his tears.

"I'm sorry," he says when he sits up part way, "I'm sorry you're seeing me like this...again." "I will always rather see you like this than any worse alternative," you smile at him, "I get like this too, you never make me apologize." "I know but I -- " "No buts," you shake your head, sitting up right to lean down and kiss him on the forehead, "Why don't you put a movie on and I'll take care of that laundry?" "No, no, you're not -- you're not doing my laundry," he says with an annoyed huff, "I can do it -- it's fine." "I want to," you assure, wiping at his cheek with your thumb when frustrated desperate tears start to spill from the pool in his eyes again. "It's not -- fuck babe, it's not your job. You don't have to take care of me," he complains, "I'm okay. I'm fine." "I don't think you're fine," you shrug, tilting your head to looking at him. His cheeks redden, you can tell he's stressed -- embarrassed to be crying in front of you, embarrassed by the mess. The rise and fall of his shoulders quicken while he takes stock of what needs to be done around him. "Hey, hey, look at me," you encourage, your palm skating over his stubbled cheek, "How about I do some laundry and if it makes you feel better you can take out the trash. Does that work?" "Angel, I don't want you doin' my --" "Would you like it better if I did your laundry...naked?" you smirk. He huffs a soft breathy laugh, a smile pulling on his while he wipes his eyes. "There he is," you murmur, "There's that smile I like so much." He sniffles, collecting himself for a minute before looking back up at you with sleepy, puffy eyes, "You don't have to do my laundry naked." "I can if you want," you offer with a joking grin, "If it'll make you happy." "You being here makes me happy," he whispers, "But I know you're just as stubborn as me so I'll let you start the laundry, but you're not doing all of it." "Okay," you nod, "And after I start the laundry I'll get the kitchen together f--" "Don't push it," he warns, leaning forward to leave a loving kiss on your cheek. You ease up off the couch, offering your hand to help him up. He creaks the way old men do, men who have seen too much before they were supposed to. He's unsteady when he stands, stiff with dehydration and lack of movement beyond the shuffle to the bathroom from the couch. Eddie pulls you into him, your face nuzzling his uncle's army tee softened from so many years of washing. Your arms wrap tight around him, thinking if you squeeze him enough it'll remind him that he's here with you and not wherever his mind keeps taking him. "Let's take a shower," you mumble against him, "We'll go slow."

"Am I gross?" he asks with a frown, you can hear his heart beat quicken from under his ribcage.

"No, but you'll feel a little better. I think, at least," you arms fall, hands sliding down to his, "I'll wash your hair for you." He loves that. "Okay," he nods, big brown eyes rounding -- admitting defeat, letting you lead the way he prefers to. The heat soothes his skin, the sharp twang in his muscles, the tension in his neck. He breathes in the steam, taking handfuls of water and splashing his face with it despite the sting. It's a hurt that feels good. That feels earned. You let him get a head start, a few moments alone to let the water heal whatever you can't. In the mean time, while he's not looking, you sweep up the glass in the kitchen and start a load of laundry. He knows you, his face a poster of unsurprised annoyance when you finally make it into the shower with him. "I know you cleaned," he says softly. "You love me anyway," you shrug, stepping close to press yourself against him -- skin hot from the water. "I do love you anyway," he nods, voice gruff and sleep soaked, crying vocal chords begging for something more. You suds him up, letting the water hit you in a waterfall as you step ahead. His eyes shut, heavy breaths taking over from crying while he relaxes further into your touch. He hums when you wash his hair, letting you baby him in a way he never was as a kid. You comb out his curls when they're wet with conditioner, massaging his scalp when you let it set in. He's always a little disappointed when it's over -- he'd offer to pay you to keep going. His bedroom is not in dissaray the way other parts of the trailer are. He never leaves mess where his guitars stay, where the amps are, it's the only place there needs to be order. You both step in with towels on, it's chilly from the window being left open, goosebumps raising on both of you at the wind. He still has some clean pajamas in his dresser, enough for both of you to wrap yourselves up in. He loves you like this, hot skin and refreshed, water still clinging to your eyelashes. The washing machine buzzes and you both turn, his hand reaching out to your shoulder when you go to switch it out. "Hey," he pleads, "I said you could start it, that's it." "Then come switch it out with me," you say, "Let's do it together. That's what I'm here for." A heartfelt smile flickers over his features, eyes shining with tears again from the shake up in emotions from your arrival in general. "Okay," he nods. You both pad in socked feet to the main living space, dressed in PJs in the middle of the early evening. The glow of the overhead lamp catches his wet hair, the glint of his silver chain, the wet slick of his lips. You switch out the laundry while he puts in another load, shutting the top down door with a tinny thud. You hoist yourself on it, legs dangling above the tile, heels rumbling against the cream coated metal. It's not long before his hands reach your thighs, leaning forward to catch you in a gentle kiss. "Thank you," he mumbles against your lips, "Again." "Anytime," you whisper, kissing him back, "Always."

[astraysimp]

Future Producer

Future Producer

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Hello, hello ,hello, my lovelies! I am back with the last edition of my personal dad!skz series, finishing off with a Bahng! ( I DO have another series planned) 

ੈ♡˳Summary: Chan, ever the hardworking man he is, takes baby Bahng to the studio( or his in house studio).....um I think that’s it

ੈ♡˳Warnings: Dad! Cha, fem!reader, fluff fluff FLUFF, tiny baby and appa chan (he is no longer foive),pet names, playful teasing Chan about losing his hair , idk what else ੈ♡˳

✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧              ♡*.✧✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧               ♡*.✧✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧                            ♡*.✧

You and Chan were adjusting to parenthood well. You loved it, and he did too. A baby Bahng– Haneul Rei Bahng– Chan’s proudest accomplishment. But, he missed the studio, which was why he had a studio built into your shared house.

That’s exactly where he was right now, with a tiny Haneul on his chest. At only 1 month old, she was already in the studio, though she just wanted to be with her appa. It was midafternoon, and you had woken up from a nap. Usually, you were met with Chan singing to Haneul or her crying……but, the house was quiet. Too quiet. Sitting up on your bed, you stretched and kicked your legs over the side of the bed, Chan and Haneul nowhere in sight. “Hm? Where are they?” You asked yourself, throwing one of Chan’s hoodies and slippers into a pair of slippers. You checked her nursery, no one was there. The master bathroom? Think again. So, you  wandered downstairs, singing to yourself. “ Where is my Channieeeeee? And my princesssss?” You hummed.

The kitchen. Empty. The living room? Nope. The laundry room? Still, no luck.

So, you wandered to the basement. Where the main gathering area– for game nights and movie nights to be held with his bandmates– was empty. As was the basement bedroom and half bathroom. Smiling to yourself, you saw the door to his studio closed. Softly knocking, you peeked your head in– wanting to respect his space because his studio was his safe place(other than with you). “Channie? Bubs, you in here?” You asked, as you gently pushed the door open.  He was,but he couldn’t hear you, and he was focused. Fingers clicking away on his soundboard, adjusting, rearranging and editing different sound clips. “Does that sound okay, Haneul?” You heard him whisper. She just gazed up at him, her cheek against his chest with a pacifier in her mouth. He chuckled, “Then again….you don’t know what these sounds are.” He giggled, kissing her forehead, before he adjusted her on his chest. Humming to himself, he went back to his work, writing down notes in the notebook on his desk. “Frick…..that doesn’t sound right,” he mumbled. “What if I……put it…….here.” He tapped his chin, eyes scanning over the screen, as he moved the clip to another spot and listened to the playback. “Aaaaah, yeah. Better better. Okay.” Haneul was growing sleepy, her afternoon nap time approaching. “Ooooh, is Princess Haneul tired,hhm?” He cooed, soothingly patting her back, humming a lullaby at her. “Somewhere over the rainbow.Way up high.There's a land that I heard of.Once in a lullaby,Somewhere over the rainbow.Skies are blue,” Chan sang, running a gentle finger over her cheek, as her eyes fluttered shut.

Deciding to step in, you smiled, walking over and kissing his cheek. “Hi, my love.” You whispered, sitting in your designated chair. Yes, you had a chair because you also spent a lot  of time in the studio with Chan. Slightly jumping, he smiled and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Geez scared me, baby. Didn’t see you come in,” He giggled, eyes crinkling up. “Mhm, woke up from a nap to be met with an empty house,” You pouted , leaning your chin on his shoulder. “Sorry, darling. Had a song idea, and needed to get in here.” He chuckled, still patting Haneul’s back. Smiling you nodded, nuzzling into him. “Speaking of naps, is our  baby girl asleep?” You asked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. Looking down to where she lay on his chest, Chan nodded. “Think so, oh she’s so cute.” He cooed, seeing his baby asleep on his chest. 

You, too, have fallen asleep in the studio . Whether it was on his lap, on the small couch or in your chair. You looked at Haneul and smiled. “She reminds me of when you fall asleep in here,” he chuckled. “Your lips all pouty and your cheek squished against the couch or chair or my chest,” he cooed at you, pinching your cheek. “Yah, don’t blame me.It’s so cozy in here, smells like you and is so warm, plus you take so long.” You giggled, sticking your tongue out at him. Shaking his head, he booped your nose. “That’s how I feel about being in your arms, so warm and cozy and you smell so good, darling.” He smiled, pecking your lips before adjusting a now sleeping Haneul. “She’s so precious. Aw, look at her little cheeks,” you cooed, finger softly running over her cheek, her hand gripping Chan’s shirt. “She is, just like her mummy.” Cha smiled at you, saving the file to his computer , and turning to you.

“Do you think she’ll be a producer in the future, darling?”

 Playfully, flicking his forehead you sighed. “No, I will not have my baby doll losing hair at the age of 25,” You pressed him. Pouting, he cuddled Haneul closer to him,”mummy is so mean, mentioning my hair, doll.” He whined, cuddling her to his chest. Giggling, you pinched his cheek. “I still love you, though, even if you are losing hair, Channie.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪Please don’t steal, claim, repost, modify, copy, translate or paraphrase my works, you will be blocked𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 AStraySimp2023𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪Reblog to show support, xoxo𓆩♡𓆪

Tags; @straykeedz𓆩♡𓆪 @straykeedz-recs𓆩♡𓆪 @moonjxsung 𓆩♡𓆪 @hyunsvngs 𓆩♡𓆪 @yangbbokari 𓆩♡𓆪 @mumusreblogs 𓆩♡𓆪 @kai-lee08 𓆩♡𓆪 @cinhomi-rkive 𓆩♡𓆪 open- 𓆩♡𓆪

[dr-dendritic-trees]

"I'm actively suppressing the urge to just launch into my potted lecture on how much of people's reluctance to deal with natural fibre clothing is based around laundry, because its only semi-related."

please please lecture!

@drafty-castle you also indicated an interest in the Laundry Lecture so you can come join us, but your unfortunate run-in with Hobbit Pants more or less summarizes my concerns.

So basically the tl;dr is, laundry is hard and ethically made natural fibre clothes are expensive and that is a bad combination and its not fair or reasonable to expect people to do a bunch of independent research just to wash their clothes.

If I go out and buy a bunch of cheap shitty polyester clothing, it will feel bad, and be made unethically, and be environmentally destructive, and get stinky and need to be washed all the fucking time, BUT and this is crucial, I can be pretty confident that I can just toss it in the washing machine and dryer. Its very easy, it doesn't require much outside knowledge other than a basic grasp of the settings on my laundry machine, its not physically taxing and it doesn't vary very much from brand to brand or item to item. On top of that, if my shitty shein shirt does shrink or otherwise get destroyed in the wash that's frustrating, but unless I'm very poor, the shirt is replaceable.

If I'm dealing with higher end, more ethical natural fibres none of that is true. Even if we set aside the issue of cost for a minute, and just assume the clothing fairy magicked them into your wardrobe, each of those lovely, ethical, natural fibre pieces has its own washing instructions which again, are not common knowledge and which often aren't communicated by the people selling the clothes.

One of the benefits to natural fibres is actually they don't need to be washed as often, they can often be aired out between wears and only laundered relatively infrequently, but that's only helpful if you already know that. And unless you attach the information to the garment they don't!! People don't know that!!

So with your brand new exciting natural fibre wardrobe, you have to know how to wash, probably, 3 separate fibre types at minimum, probably closer to 5-10, and you have to know, or check the fibre composition of every garment and you have to do different laundry, for all of those different fibre types.

So the laundry becomes much more complex and cognitively demanding, and much more time consuming, and much more labour intensive physically, and you generally need more space to do it in. A small washer and dryer can be tucked into a closet, garments that need to be aired or dried on a rack take up a lot more room. So when we talk about how great it would be if everyone had access to these sorts of clothes there's a whole segment of the population that just will not be able to do that. It just won't be possible for them to keep their clothes clean without either paying for labour, or getting support, even if they do have the facilities, which is not guaranteed. And where is the huge pool of skilled laundry labour coming from? Historically, that was done by people how had literally no better options, usually impoverished women, but no one's talking about that funnily enough.

And on top of that, these clothes are expensive. That's not avoidable. So now, when you do mess up the (complex, labour intensive, time consuming) you've destroyed a garment that's going to be financially painful to replace for all but the absolute richest people.

And that's the best case scenario! That's not even getting into stupid problems like how some cotton and linen can be machine washed and some can't not based on any property of the the fabric but based on the fabric was preshrunk, so the garment which might or might not shrink in the wash based on decisions made up the supply chain. Or how, frankly, not every company actually uses good quality natural fibres, so sometimes your very expensive linen trousers just wear through in 18 months no matter how carefully you wash them (ask me how I know this).

This is also how I feel about mending. Another theoretical benefit to natural fibre clothes is that they're much more able to be repaired and altered but that's only helpful if you either have the time and skill to repair your clothes, or access and money to pay someone else to maintain your clothes. Again, where is this extra labour coming from?

I'm not meaning to be the clothing grinch! I really do think this could be resolved constructively. But people who just want to buy clothes that aren't an evironmental and ethical nightmare are not going to be able to spontaneously fix it. Someone needs to actually put some proactive work into fixing the logistics.

[cloudyskydreams]

scent drabbles!

UNDERTALE!

Sans smells like pine and rain

You groan as you lazily smack at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Sweet silence fills the room once you finally manage to hit the snooze button and you consider getting up, for a very brief moment you really did think about it but your skeletal mate clinging on to you destroyed any thoughts of getting up and starting the morning early. You snuggle into him and inhale deeply, his scent has always been so calming. The smell of a rainy day trampling exploring a pine forest filled your senses and you sigh happily.

"heh did you just sniff me?" His voice makes you jump a little and blush in embarrassment.

He looks up at you with a brow bone raised and squinted sockets."Uhm... No?" your voice is a tad meek.

"don't worry I'm not scent out of shape about it." He chuckles and you shake your head at his pun. He pulls you back into him burying your face into the tank top he sleeps in. "it's too early to be up." He whines and you sigh snuggling into him and enjoying the comforting smell pulling you back into sleep.

Papyrus: smells like citrus and clean laundry

You and Papyrus are in the kitchen together eating breakfast. He lovingly made you both pancakes and you happily dug in when the decent sized stack was set in front of you. There was some for his brother sure but he wasn't going to be awake for a few more hours the lazybones. Papyrus worked on the daily crossword puzzle in the newspaper while you munched on pancakes occasionally asking you for advice.

"EIGHT LETTERS, UNWAKBLE STATE" you think about it as you chew.

"Maybe ... Comatose?" He checks it with the spaces and other answers he already has and nods.

"THANK YOU SWEET PEA." You smile at the nickname and stand up to set your plate in the sink.

After you're done you creep up behind him and lean over his shoulder resting yourself against his back as you peer at the crossword. He Nyehs and leans his head against yours. You smooch his cheek and sigh contently before nuzzling into the side of his neck. He smells wonderful like a productive day inside cleaning laundry and munching on freshly peeled oranges.

"Papyrus darling you smell so yummy I could just eat you up" he blushes at your words and you chuckle noticing that the citrus stands out more when he's flustered.

"(Y/N)...DONT DISTRACT ME FROM THE DAILY PUZZLE I MUST KEEP MY MIND SHARP!" You know he doesn't mean that from the way he's pressing himself against you but you chuckle anyways.

"Sorry clementine, I'll let you focus." You smooch his cheek again and he leans into the touch. Heading away from the kitchen to leave him be you decide for once you're actually motivated to get some laundry done.

UNDERFELL:

Red smells like campfire and apple pie

Fellby had called you complaining of the drunken red stating he didn't want his brother to come pick him up and to call you. You sigh and tell Fellby you're on the way. You grumble to yourself the entire way out of your apartment complex and to the bar. Once you make it to the bar you search around and spot Red perched on a barstool dozing off as Fellby stands close to him behind the counter crackling with his fire looking a little brighter than normal.

"Hey fell, m here for him don't worry" you say as you help Red off the bar stool he clings on to you and Fellby does the equivalent of an eye roll before walking off to serve patrons.

"heyy sweetheart, nice ta see ya" he slurs and you sigh bracing his body with yours as you help him stumble to the door.

"Jesus Red the suns not even down yet... Did you and edge have another fight or something?" Red's silent at that and he mumbles something stopping in his tracks."What?"

"i said i love my brother." Guess you hit the nail on the spot.

"Never said you didn't bud... Have you been seeing your therapist?" You get him walking again and he groans as you pry into his personal life.

"yeh e'ry two or so weeks" he huffs and you nod satisfied.You gaze at the stars for a bit as you stumble red back to the apartments and help him do the walk of shame into the elevator.

"Your place or mine?" He looks at you confused. "If you got into a fight it wouldn't be the best look to come home in this state..might set him off again?" You prompt and he nods looking a bit taken aback.

"guess yours then doll thanks for offering." His voice is gruff and there's a slight red hue to his face you brush off as the influence of alcohol.

"It's not problem babe I'm used to babysitting you " you chuckle and lead him to your apartment. He stumbles and collapses on the couch and you go and get him and cup of water from the kitchen.As your setting it on the coffee table he gives you a soft look and you pause to stare at him. You awkwardly look at eachother before he inhales sharply and looks to the side.

"keep me company?" You melt at his request and sit on the floor next to the couch.

"Wanna talk about it?" You prompt and he steels his face slightly, you take that as a no."That's okay... You should sleep this off."He nods in agreement and lays his head back after receiving a small smooch from you,you're sitting pretty close and you can smell his scent coming off of him it's like a fall night eating apple pie with friends around a campfire. You tell him about your day gently as he drifts out into drunken slumber and when you're done you stand up and stretch. These brothers and their emotional constipation, they have to get over it someday. You head to the kitchen intent on using the fresh apples you have to make a pie.

Edge smells like gasoline and cherries

You had ran into Edge in the hallway and had both gotten on the elevator at the same time. Unfortunately for you the elevator decide now would be the perfect moment to break down mid descent and leave you standing awkwardly across from the tall pointy skeleton who's looking more and more stressed with each second.You notice his breath is labored and wonder why he even needs to breathe before noticing he's sweating slightly.

"Hey.. you okay edge?" He looks at you and glares

"I-IM PERFECTLT FINE ITS JUST A LITTLE CRAMPED IN HERE PRINCESS." You would think he would know better than to lie to you at this point. He's obviously in the early stages of panic.

"Hey it's okay we won't be stuck for long... They're probably working on fixing it already" you press the emergency button on the elevator just in case. You sit in tense silence with edge for a bit more before actually sitting on the floor, after a few moments edge follows suit. You smile at him and gently start humming hoping to calm his nerves. He looks at you gently blushing slightly and listening to you hum as his breathing calms. The scent of gasoline dissipates the more you hum leaving the sweet after scent of cherries hanging around and after awhile the elevator springs back to life. Edge scrambles up and away from you to the furthest corner of the elevator and clears his throat.

"THANK YOU... TELL NO ONE YOU SAW THAT." his voice holds a threat to it but you just smile at him and his flushed cheeks.

"Have a good day edge." You hum as you exit the elevator after kissing his cheek now intent on going to the store. You have a craving for cherries now.

UNDERSWAP

Stretch smells like honeysuckle and honey

You sigh as you stretch out further on the couch. Today was lazy Sunday and you decided to spend the day with Stretch and Blue. Blue tried to join in on the tradition but couldn't sit still long enough and left to go about his day. Stretch however matched your laziness twofold so here you two were lazed out in his living room watching some nature documentary on bees.

"hey honey, what do bee's chew?" You think about it for a second before shrugging."bumble gum" he chuckles and you roll your eyes that was awful."what's a bees favorite sport?" You groan hoping this isn't going to be a rest of the day thing.

"I don't know honey bun what?" You coo and he flushes a bit at the nickname but smiles as he sits up in his arm chair.

"Fris-bee." You chuckle at that one and he beams at you proud to have made you laugh.

"Okay Mr comedian no more" you say and he throws up and a okay sign standing up and gesturing for you to move your feet. You do and he sits down so you spread you're feet back over his lap and he sets a hand on your calf rubbing it lightly. You guys enjoy each other's company and eventually you fall asleep to the monotone voice of the speaker on the documentary.

When you wake up you're cuddled to Stretches chest and he's asleep a little bit of orange drool leaking from his mouth. You giggle at the sight.He smells sweet like summer honeysuckle and the regular honey he likes to drink, it reminds you of your childhood and summer days. You nuzzle into him and he pulls you into his hoodie clad ribcage. You drift off back to sleep as you cuddle the clingy skeleton

.Blue smells like mint and snow (stole this one couldn't think of anything lol)

Blue and you bustle around the kitchen as you cook together.

"NOT TOO MUCH SUGAR ANGEL WE DONT WANT IT TO BE TOO LUMPY." Blue reprimands and you halt on pouring in the sugar as he mixes the cookie dough.

It's winter time and you're making sugar cookies to ice and give out to neighbors. Blue and Papyrus had plenty of stuff planned for the winter season and you were invited to join in on them.

"Alright now we let the dough chill for a bit," you hum and set the dough in the fridge. Blue nods and starts to wash up as you head over and wait for your turn. You wash your hands and head to the living room with Blue.

"IM GOING TO TURN ON THE NAPSTATON GYFTMAS SPECIAL! ITS A CLASSIC THIS TIME OF YEAR!" He calls out and you nod. You can't decide if you like Mettaton or Napstaton more but you don't really watch them without the boys so it doesn't really matter in the long run. Blue bounces over to the couch and gets comfortable as he turns on the special he's talking about. He looks at you for a second and there's a sparkle in his eyes a he gives you puppy dog eyes. "CAN I PLAY WITH YOUR HAIR?" You chuckle and nod sitting in between his legs to which he immediately shoves a bony hand in your hair. You lean back into the sensation and let him work out knots and braid and unbraid as you watch the musical drama in front of you. Blue seems content to simply play with your hair and as you lean back you catch a whiff of his scent. He smells like freshly fallen snow and peppermint a nice combination and perfect for these winter days. You find comfort in the scent and sensation of having your hair played with and subconsciously lean into Blues touch as he starts to massage your scalp. Once the shows over you two hope back up and start on rolling out the dough and shaping it. It's a fun time and you and Blue take turns picking out different cookie cutters. You can't wait for more winter days like this to come.

[luvrodite]

in the garden, would you trust me? [618]

in the garden, you find solace. a moment of quiet after a hard week. cw. gn!reader, reader is referred to as 'pretty' but no physical/gendered descriptions. established relationship. fluff.

The end of a long week finds you in the garden. On the outskirts of it, anyway. You wander out of the house after dinner to catch your breath, feet clad in too large slippers that don't belong to you and crouching down to settle yourself on the front steps.

Twilight in the suburbs are pretty, this time of year, all cool blues and thin mists, air that feels cold in your lungs. Down the street, your neighbors' children squeal in their front yard, running circles around their new puppy, the little thing's barks echoing up your quiet street. You bring your knees to your chest and watch the fading dregs of the sunset, orange glows fading beneath the tops of the roofs to make way for indigo.

Inside your home, you can hear the gentle clink of dishes, the running water. The hum of the TV is low enough that you only hear a vague buzz beneath the clamour from down the street, but it's a comfort to you as you settle against the steps.

The flowers in your yard have been trimmed recently, yellow and orange blooms no longer hidden beneath thick bramble, standing proud amongst their siblings. The grass is soft, dewy from the light rainfall earlier, and you breathe in the smell of petrichor that lingers in the air. Probably, there'll be more of it to come.

You hope it'll wait a little, at least until you can get the laundry in. Maybe when you've slipped beneath the sheets – a soft patter to carry you into your dreams. The thought makes you smile, and this is how Jason finds you when he steps through the front door.

"Room for one more?"

You turn to glance up at him, two glasses of juice in his hand. "Depends on who's asking," you murmur teasingly, accepting the tumbler as he presses it into your hand, cool to the touch and perspiring slightly.

"Your husband, but I can tell him to bugger off if you'd rather spend time with me," he returns the quip and you let out a small giggle.

"You are very handsome," you muse, thoughtfully and he flashes you a smug grin. "But my husband is pretty tough."

"Sure, he's gotta be, to keep a pretty thing like you." His smile is easy, head tilted playfully.

That makes you break. Snorting, you wave him down. "Shut up and sit."

His shoulder presses against yours gently as he joins you, long legs stretching in front of him. Jason sets his glass beside him, leaning back on his palms.

"You alright, bug?" he murmurs, after some time. You hum. "Just checking. Looked a bit out of it at dinner."

You take a sip from your glass, letting the sweetness settle on your tongue. The sky continues to darken, and you know it's only a matter of time before the streetlights begin to flicker on.

"Just tired, love," you tell him, tilting into his side. "Missed you, this week."

"Yeah?" he asks, quietly, a hand coming up to press circles into the space between your shoulder blades. His voice is feather-light, and pleased at the thought. "I missed you, too."

Your smile stamps itself against his shoulder, lips brushing a gentle kiss through the fabric of his shirt. Nothing more remains to be said, quiet contentment hanging in the beams above you as the sun sets on your street.

You sit there until the lights begin to flicker on and he takes your hand, lead back inside knowing you'll finally find rest.

You go to bed with the smell of fresh linen under your nose, and the sound of rain at your window. In Jason's arms, you dream.

don't know what this is. a little sweetness after the mess of the apocalypse longfic, and also a chance to write something shorter, easier, breezier. i love domestic fluff, and i love jason, and i love suburban sunsets. i was driving through the streets today around sunset and it was so beautiful today and i felt extremely lucky to live in such a beautiful world with all its twilights and sunrises. i love you!

[thecrownestt]

Clutter

Is this too much? Slob talk? Ancillary slob talk? Let's be playful and say it's cool.

Imagine being a docile, go with the flow type of feedee. Willing to be cute and pampered, and eager to look nice for a feeder. A classic, heartfelt tale of two love birds doing what they desire because their partner desires it. Eating because she likes how it makes her feel, and feeding her because he likes how it makes him feel. Win win. The stuff that makes any relationship easy. If I do what makes me happy, it makes you equally happy. How great.

And he's so so good at being a feeder. Always knows when she is due for a snack or a craving. Attentive to the ambiance that someone needs if they are gaining. Takes care of the odds and ends, like laundry, dishes, cleaning. It's easy to be comfortable with a changing, growing body when all the other constants are met.

So what happens if he strategically slacks one week? A week's worth of empty containers and pizza boxes sit in the corner of the bedroom. Sure, nothing with actual spoiling food scraps are in them, but they are still there. A lingering reminder of ugly corporate logos and generic packaging in the midst of an otherwise cozy room fitted with good, modern decor.

It isn't like she is ever going to ~dream~ about dealing with the trash on her own. That hasn't been her job for years. It's unbecoming of a proper lady to tend to strain herself to do busy work. He would always shush her back towards a seat or the bed if she tried. Those worries aren't meant for someone so delicate and soft, certainly not when they could be easing off a big meal.

And the problem is ignored.

For a while.

The weight trickles onto her frame. They don't check the scale often, who needs to when the carnal look in his eyes let her know that she isn't just being wishful about a few extra inches on her waist.

The pile of boxes and bags in the corner grows in tandem. What was a job for one trash bag now starts to become a point of fixation on its own. Pizza boxes in a stack going up to his knees. A disorganized mound of Styrofoam containers that he tosses a new addition on top of.

She mentions the pile. It's getting a bit unwieldy? He brushes her off. She's being far too uptight. It's nothing. It's a tomorrow problem. Does it sound any bit as good as eating a slice of cheesecake for dessert? It never seems to.

The new routine becomes accepted. Normal. Weeks go by. Clothes get tighter. The first stack of pizza boxes reach the ceiling. How many does that even take? How much of that added to the new stretch marks working their way up her stomach? Is it that direct?

More weeks. More months. More clutter. More space being commandeered by a couple with no guardrails.

Yes, dear, there's always more.

Please, darling, bring me more.

Let me help you up.

I need you to make this easier and grab my hand.

How many of the prettiest girls have someone to be so practical about assistance in the shower?

Her belly grows. Her torso thickens. Chest in the way. Legs and ass wobbling beyond sight. She has gotten bigger.

So has the trash.

Her absent minded hand traces the edge of her love handle. She's lucid. Some of her window is being covered by the trash. When he comes into the room, he navigates a small path amidst the heap. If she wanted to roll to the one side of the bed, she'd see that the boxes and wrappers have begun to pile up against the bed. Under the frame.

Is this how much a person eats in a year? Is this what they needed to be reminded of... how visibly shocking the price of growing into 4x's in a single year requires?

A single year. How about two?

Moving isn't easy anymore. He brings most everything to her. He tends to her needs, and he never allows any negativity.

The room is dark. Although the bed is quite sizeable, there's a stray bottle of soda or crumpled fast food bag that tips onto the bed. It's beginning to become unsafe for her to be on her feet for very long. Heavy, wobbling steps are no match for an uneven surface of cardboard and garbage strewn about on the floor. The window allows a few stray beams of light to reach her bloated, unmoving body.

Did he know they would view the trash with such disregard? So as to look at her new rolls, listen to her deep huffs and puffs, and think "don't you forget where this came from, it's literally closing you in."

It's claustrophobic. Overwhelming. A world closing in. Her own body consuming the space around her. The evidence of what it takes.

The last time she could see out the window, her belly didn't fully touch the bed when she was on all fours. The floor covered entirely in about the time it took her to grow a cute fat roll on her arm. An artwork of desire. How much do you give up to pursue this life? How much do you gain? What does it take? The reminder is panic inducing, but also resignation. Fat slobs do not become this way magically. It happens slowly, gradually creeping onto someone. Discreet. Looking the problem in the face and denying it's ever going to be as concerning as giving up on the blind desire between two lovers.

[iiseult]

RED-HANDED: Gyutaro x reader - College!AU (part 1)

CWs -> surprise! It’s pervy!Gyutaro, femdom reader, masturbation, degradation, spit play, public sex, slapping (only once and he likes it), calling Gyu a good boy, he’s pathetic and I love him

Note: Does this count as Kinktober? I really wanted to participate this month but I’m an engineering student in college, so enough said. I’ll make part two likeeeee whenever I feel like it. Pls lmk what u think!!!! <3

word count: 3k

It was Gyutaro’s turn to host the study session. All day he had been running around, cleaning his dorm room to eliminate anything potentially embarrassing. He’d never had a girl over before, let alone a girl like you, and he might have been overthinking it a little. Would you be turned off by the socks his roommate had left lying around? What about the smell? Should he hide the protein powder? He had such a big, fat crush on you, and every time he thought about the two of you spending time alone together, the intrusive thoughts would beat out the rational thoughts. In no time at all, he’d be succumbing to his sexual fantasies, fisting his cock desperately to images of you and trying to rid his mind of them to no avail. How was he going to survive a night of your undivided attention?

Originally, it wasn’t supposed to be a one-on-one thing. Every Tuesday, a different friend from the group hosted a late-night study session at their dorm, and everyone except Gyutaro had already volunteered. He couldn't avoid it any longer; he was doomed. It was supposed to be you, your best friend, his roommate, Gyutaro, and Gyutaro’s roommate, but everyone got frat flu the previous weekend and had to take a rain check. Even Gyutaro’s own roommate couldn’t make it, deciding to go home for the rest of the week and recover. So, everyone had canceled. That is, everyone except you and Gyutaro. He was thinking of just calling the whole thing off after that, secretly relieved to avoid having people over his place for a little longer, but you wouldn’t hear of it. Your midterm was on Thursday, and you couldn’t lose a valuable study session.

It was already 7:50 pm– 10 minutes before you were scheduled to arrive– and he was taking care of some last-minute, anxiety-fueled cleaning. The bed was already made, the garbage had been taken out, all his laundry was clean and neatly folded away, and his desk was set up for a long night of studying. He had even sprayed a few bursts of his roommate’s air freshener, making the whole place stink of “fresh morning dew,” whatever that was. In those last 10 minutes before your arrival, Gyutaro even found himself practicing basic hygiene– something a bit out of the ordinary for him. He brushed his teeth and tongue vigorously until his gums bled, washed his face, applied an extra layer of deodorant, and re-did the bun his hair had been rotting in all day. Now, he was ready.

At precisely 8:01 pm, he heard a knock at the door, and sprang to his feet as if the chair he had been sitting on was on fire. He had been staring off into space and nervously tapping his foot in anticipation, wringing his hands and chewing at his lip and fighting back dirty thoughts about what you might be wearing, and before he knew it, the time had come. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Evening, Gyutaro,” you said, half-smiling and leaning to the left under the weight of the heavy bag that was slung over your shoulder. As usual, you were well-dressed, sporting a white button-down, brown blazer, and a pair of blue jeans that fit you perfectly. He tried not to stare, but the top two buttons of your shirt had come undone, and he couldn’t help but notice how exposed your cleavage was. He gulped. This was going to be a long, long night.

“C-come in, make yourself comfortable. You can sit wherever you want,” he said, grinning nervously, stepping to the side and holding the door open to allow you entry. You nodded and brushed past him, your clothed shoulder grazing him gently. He shivered, hoping you wouldn’t notice. As soon as you entered the room, you made a b-line for Gyutaro’s bed, thrusting your bag onto it and plopping down unceremoniously on your back. You let out a sigh. The day had been stressful, and you wanted so badly to relax and release some tension, but there was work to be done.

After lying down for a few seconds to decompress, you noticed that it was oddly silent and sat up, half expecting Gyutaro to have joined you on the bed by now. But Gyutaro hadn’t moved from the doorway. He was still standing there, slack-jawed and staring. He couldn’t believe a girl was in his bed– you were in his bed– and she was there of her own free will. You had wanted to come, asking him not to cancel, and you had chosen his bed as the place to spend the evening. Not the desk and chair, not the floor, not the couch, but his bed. He gulped. He had imagined this many times before, and seeing you like that caused a specific few images to flash across his mind. His cock twitched. You were staring back at him.

“Gyu? Are you coming?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and readjusting yourself so there was room for him to sit next to you. He quickly shook himself out of his stupor and closed the door, walking awkwardly over to join you, hoping that if he put his hands in the pockets of his shorts you wouldn’t notice the growing bulge underneath them. When he reached the bed, he leaned his hips against the edge of it and crossed his arms, attempting to conceal his embarrassment. If you had noticed, you showed no signs of it, just crossing your legs and getting a little bit more comfortable.

“So, um… What subject did you want to study? Maybe we could work through some textbook problems together, or…” he trailed off, his eyes darting around and landing anywhere but you.

“Sure, sounds good. Hey, it’s hot in here, do you have a fan or something?” you asked, looking around and fanning yourself with your hand. Gyutaro frowned deeply and shook his head, suddenly feeling like a complete failure for not being able to provide you comfort.

“I’m sorry, I don’t. Maybe I could open a window?” he offered, gesturing to the pathetically small window on the other side of the room.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll improvise,” you replied. He was about to ask what you meant, but stopped short when your hands flew to your button-down shirt, undoing two more buttons from the top like it was nothing.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?!” He stuttered, looking away from you and at the wall instead to try and distract his racing thoughts. Even though he tore his gaze away as soon as he realized what you were doing, he still couldn’t help but see the very top rim of your nude-colored bra poking out from your shirt teasingly. Not to mention the swell of your plump breasts. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to calm himself down and stop his now fully erect cock from getting any bigger.

“Gyutaro? What’s wrong, are you okay?” You purred, leaning down so you were face-to-face. He opened his eyes. That was a mistake. From the way you were sitting, he had a perfectly unobstructed view of your cleavage, which was spilling out of your bra and unbuttoned shirt. He guessed that your nipples were just below where the fabric began. His eyes widened, and a jolt of electricity was sent straight to his cock, which was straining desperately against the side of the bed. He let out a tiny, almost inaudible whimper, but due to your proximity, it was not lost on you. You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, asking again if everything was ok, but there was a teasing undertone to your voice and a glint in your eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. Were you really…doing this on purpose?

“Uhm, don’t you think you sh-should, you know, b-button your shirt back up a…a little more?” he stammered, face flushed so red that he looked almost feverish. His eyes were still wide, and absolutely glued to your tits, like he was in a trance.

“Why? You don’t think I look pretty like this?” you teased, leaning forward even more and trailing your hand from his bony shoulder down to his bicep, which was, admittedly, larger than you’d anticipated. You wondered if anything else about him was larger than you’d anticipated…

“N-no! I mean, no, it’s not that! You…hah…look…” he rasped, not even able to form a complete sentence. He was no idiot. He knew what you were doing, playing with him like that. He knew you didn’t have any real interest in him, that you just wanted some easy attention from a pathetic virgin who would drool over anything with a cup size. It hurt, knowing that, and he didn’t want it to be that way. But just as much as that was true, he also wanted to know what it would feel like. Would it be as good as he imagined, cupping your heavy tits in his ugly, rough hands and running his thumbs over your sensitive nipples? Would you arch into his touch, begging for more?

Before you could even react, he was out the door, disappearing down the hallway towards the men’s room. You could only guess what he intended to do there. Probably cry, you assumed, having seen the expression on his face before he left. Instead of following him, you decided to give him a minute, hoping he’d come back before too long.

Meanwhile, Gyutaro knew what he had to do. He had to get rid of these feelings, get it out of his system once and for all. Thankfully, the bathroom was deserted and he had the luxury of solitude. He hoped he could get it done quickly before someone interrupted.

Gyutaro locked himself in a stall and pulled his pants down feverishly, finally freeing his throbbing cock and taking it expertly into his big hand. He wasted no time, pumping his fist up and down to the image of your tits in his face, imagining what it would be like to touch them, to take them in his mouth and suck them until they were black and blue. Before long, his head was thrown back and he was letting out soft, desperate pants. In fact, he was so enraptured in his fantasy that he didn’t notice when someone else entered the bathroom.

You had decidedly waited for him long enough, and went to go check to make sure he really was ok, but this was not what you were expecting to find. When you quietly opened the door, you were about to whisper his name when you noticed the wet slapping sound and choked-back moans coming from the first stall. You peered under the door and sure enough, your eyes were met with the sight of Gyutaro’s bottom half, shorts pooled around his ankles and legs shaking. You grinned. This was even better than you had hoped. Did that little trick you pulled really affect him this much?

“Gyuuu~ it’s just me! Open the door,” you said gently, hoping your sweet tone would lull him into a false sense of security. Suddenly, he went silent, freezing with his fist squeezing his cock. Panic seized him, and he was silent for a moment.

“Uh! Uhhh, h-how did you g-get in here?” he choked out, not knowing what else to say.

“Walked. C’mon, open up. Wanna see you,” you replied, now standing directly in front of his stall’s door. He hesitated for a moment, but soon made up his mind; he didn’t care anymore, he couldn’t stand it any longer and he wanted you to use him. He scrambled to quickly pull up his shorts and underwear, not even bothering to retie the drawstring, and opened the door hastily. His face was burning with shame, his eyes downcast, and his hair disheveled. To you, he had never looked more delicious.

“What are you doing?” you asked, taking a step towards him, forcing him to take a step back.

“Using the bathroom…” he lied, stuffing his hands back in his pockets again to try and hide his erection. Unfortunately for him, all it did was draw your attention downwards.

“You don’t have to hide it, Gyu. I already know. Why do you think I came tonight in the first place?” you asked, not even trying to hide the fact that you were eyeing his bulge hungrily.

“But-”

“Now keep going,” you ordered, and Gyutaro’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He didn’t move.

“I said,” you began, grabbing his chin between your thumb and index finger, “Keep. Going.”

He whimpered, biting his lip, but obediently dropped his pants and underwear back down to his ankles and released his dick, the tip of which was bright red and slathered with precum. You moved your hand from his chin to his shoulder and pressed down, forcing him to sit back on the toilet. Now, you were standing above him, looking down with a perfect view. You looked at him expectantly, and slowly, he brought a shaking hand down to his shaft, gingerly engulfing it in his hand and giving it a few weak pumps. You shook your head disapprovingly, frowning at him. His eyes widened.

“This won’t do. You need…extra encouragement. Open your mouth,” you instructed.

“Why?” he asked demurely, but did as you asked. You didn’t answer verbally, instead choosing to show him why.

You pressed your thumb past his lips and onto the middle of his tongue, and his reaction was almost immediate. He stuck his tongue out more to accommodate your finger, eyes half-lidded and gazing up at you with…love? Lust? It was impossible to distinguish between the two when it came to him. Without a second thought, he resumed stroking his dick at the same pace as before, his body seemingly acting with a mind of its own. You smiled, pressing down harder on his tongue. His brows furrowed and a string of saliva dripped out of the corner of his mouth, falling past his chin and onto the floor. He let out a pathetic, strangled sort of sound, breathy and high-pitched, and you giggled. He was even better than you had imagined.

“Wowww, what a good boy!” you praised.

“Do you think you can take another one of my fingers?”

“Uh-huh! Eea, I eeea!” he tried to say, coming across as incoherent, but you got the message loud and clear. You smiled down at him lovingly and swapped your thumb for your index and middle fingers, which were obviously longer and grazed the back of his throat. Immediately, he gagged, his eyes involuntarily screwing shut, tears pricking their corners, but you didn’t relent. He would adjust.

“Come on, you can take it,” you crooned, thrusting your digits even further back into his soft, wet throat. He gagged again and bit down, catching your knuckles between his jagged teeth. He hadn’t bitten you very hard, but still, the sting of your skin breaking slightly was enough.

Without warning, you slapped him across the face with the palm of your other hand, making him yelp and accidentally squeeze his cock a little tighter. The sound echoed throughout the bathroom, ringing in the silence. He was shocked, even a little scared, but for some reason, it was affecting him heavily. After hesitating only for a brief second, he started pumping himself desperately, even faster than before, feeling like all the blood in his entire body had rushed to his cock at once the second your palm made contact with his cheek. You grinned. You knew it, you just knew it. You had a feeling he would like that. It was a risky move, but one you were glad you made. He let out another moan, the first real unrestrained one you had heard from him. The vibrations made your fingers tingle.

“Mmm, good boy, you’re being such a good boy for me, Gyu. Bet you’re getting close now, aren’t you?” you asked, removing your fingers from his mouth and allowing him to answer properly.

“Y-yes!” he breathed, “‘m getting so close, ‘m gonna cum soon! Please, c’n I cum?” he begged, tear-filled eyes gazing up at you in absolute desperation. And how could you say no to that?

“In a second. Stick out your tongue.”

He did, closing his eyes, eagerly ready to accept whatever you would give him, but nothing could have prepared him.

You leaned down close and spit in his mouth.

Immediately, he came.

“Ngh- Ahh! Huh- ah- ah- mmh!” he whined, voice breaking as the thick, white liquid shot violently out of his aching dick, covering his hand, your shirt, and part of his own shirt in globs of it. He worked himself through it, a few more spurts bubbling out from his tip and leaking down the shaft. There was so much of it, you knew he was holding it in for so long because of you. His thighs shook from the aftershock, and his chest heaved, he was so fucked out. You wanted so badly to just take off your panties and sink down onto his glistening length, sheathing him inside your already soaking, tight pussy to hear him whine that it was too much, but that would have to wait for another time. Maybe a time when you weren’t in a public restroom.

“Clean yourself up and meet me back in your room. There’s something else I want to try.”

With that, you left him sitting there, cock in hand, covered in his own hot cum and wondering if it had all just been a dream.

(pt. 2)

———-

tag list: @sanemisstalker @vampcubus @flametrashira

ermmmmm idk how tagging ppl works but if I tagged u it’s cause I want u to read this shit but no pressure :-)

[abouttomakeanameformyself]

Chapter Two: What's misery without company

1/5 🌶️ with reference to Remy being hot but like, we already knew that.

This was only supposed to be half a chapter but we were past 2k, so I decided to trim down the chapter. The update should come out sooner, because I have half of it written already!

Enjoy a Kate cameo (my beloved) and more (limited) Nets shirt slander.

The headache was the first indicator that you were hungover. It hit you like a ton of bricks before your eyes were even open. It was a particular type of vile that increased tenfold when your eyelids fluttered to let some light in. Oh no. No no no no. This wasn't survivable. Time to get old yellered in the back- Wait where the fuck am I? 

You sat up with a start, and the first thing you noticed was your attire. Men's boxers fit comfortably over your bottom half, they were a bit big on you but they did the trick. There was a cropped muscle tee over your top half. Okay, so you had a wardrobe change sometime in the night. That's… concerning. It was hard to connect the details of what exactly happened when you still had drool on your face. There was thankfully only about a 5% chance you did something salacious the night before. With how you feel right now, the only thing that was probably getting head was the toilet. 

You were in someone else's bed, blankets pooled around your waist and clean sheets beneath you. Your clothing from the previous day was on the bedside table, folded neatly. It looked like it was washed at some point in the night, which brought you a sense of calm. James' familiar Nets shirt brought you a sense of recollection. The breakup. The bar. The drunken trip home with- 

A banging from the kitchen brought your new roommates' presence to your attention. Oh. Yes. Remy. This was Remy's room. You took the space in carefully, focusing on the architectural details. Exposed brick. Lots of light. Clean, except for some clutter on a desk and a pile of laundry in the corner that needed to be folded or washed. Okay, so the possibility of him being a serial killer was slimming down. That was comforting. 

The urge to snoop was gnawing at the back of your brain, but you knew better. Don't bite the hand that landlords you or don't bite landlords or however the saying goes. Though, in today's economy maybe landlords deserve to get bit. Was Remy technically a landlord? No, but the idea stayed the same. Don't snoop, it's in poor taste when he's helping you out. 

Pulling yourself to a standing position felt like your own personal hell. Oh, what the fuck. Alcohol was the devil. Never drinking again. Unless it was Mardi Gras. It seemed like a bitch slap to the culture of New Orleans to skip the festivities of debauchery. Tulane gave you a week off school for the purpose of turning up. You have never once skipped out and no hungover was gonna ruin it for you. Other than that, sobriety only.

An angry buzz came from the bedside table, and you could only brace yourself as you unlocked your home screen. You knew that when you checked your phone, things wouldn't be great. You dropped off the face of the earth for 20 hours with no explanation. People were going to be worried if they didn't know that you were alive and not chopped up into a thousand little pieces. 

Most of the calls and texts were from Yelena and James. They didn't deserve an explanation, and you knew that if you responded to one of their messages it would open up a can of worms. So, you forced yourself to swipe their messages away, doing your best not to read a damn word. A sigh of relief passed through you as Kate’s darling face popped up on your screen. She wasn’t here physically, but the smile in her icon made you feel like you had a friend in the room anyway. 

Hey! I heard you didn't come home. Are you safe?

Kate was the best thing that's ever happened to Yelena. Or you for that matter. For being the youngest out of the trio of you, she had the vibes of a mom while also acting like a kid sister. She was sweet and wholesome. It made the whole situation of her girlfriend sleeping with your boyfriend just so much worse. Eventually, you’ll tell her. You couldn’t just not. After a few days of processing your ex’s adulterous shenanigans , you can worry about Kate’s relationship. 

‘Yea. Me and James are done. It was a long time coming. I stayed at a friend's place DW!’ 

The dots on your screen to signal her typing were immediate. The impending doom was building as you waited for the interrogation of where when why and how you split up with the Roomie-Pounder 3000. You got some mercy though because Kate didn’t acknowledge the multiple-year relationship ending at all. Instead she hyperfocused on the smallest detail.

‘Wait who? Who do you know that well? You hate social interaction.’ 

‘Do not. You don't know him. Don't worry. I'll drop you a pin if you promise not to stalk me.’

‘It's so not you that I'm gonna be stalking. Him? Who do you know that would let you crash? That's such an important detail. I know it's not Steve. Tony? Bruce? Girl, I'm running out of options here.’

You grimaced softly because you knew she was just trying to make sure you were safe, On top of that you were sure Yelena and James were probably going to press her for details the better, 

Ignoring the ‘bitch answer me’ text from Kate, you found a charger and plugged your phone in, because it was truly on the brink of death at 3%. Plus, you needed water. Water was a necessity, unfortunately. 

Remy's apartment was a pretty cool setup. It was an older building, on the edge of the Vieux Carre. It was probably an old townhouse renovated into an apartment. There were a lot of those around this neighborhood. It seemed well maintained, with some open-concept renovations. You walked down the hall, taking in the glossy cherry wood and the creme walls. It had so much character. For being a residence that just fell into your lap, it could be way worse. 

You planned to get a good look at the space so you could analyze the basics you needed to purchase. Obviously, you needed a new bed because you weren't going to take the one covered in sex germs that was back in your old apartment. Just the basics like clothing, your laptop, and hygiene essentials. 

There was a possibility that you could get more than just the bare minimum supplies, but you needed to be prepared to give some things up. New sheets were a must. When your phone is charged, you can order your new bed because most mattress stores deliver the same day. You could be in your own room by tonight and you wouldn’t be kicking a grown ass man out of his bed. 

It was a promising sized space, with the same glossy hardwood floors and exposed brick. There was so much light, which was all thanks to a single floor to ceiling window. The morning sun warmed your skin, yet wasn't intense enough to prod at your aching brain. The closet was big enough to fit all your clothing and then some. It was perfect. Too perfect really. 

A clunking sound from the kitchen was offensive enough to your hungover state that it broke you out of your concentration. You'd been so preoccupied with your headache, texting Kate, and a new living situation that you completely forgot about your new roommate. You needed to talk to him honestly anyways. The sooner you both got up and going the sooner you can come back and hide under the covers and wallow in your breakup. Now was as good of a time as any. 

Living with a grown man was different than living with a 23 year old woman. Your old roommate was whisper quiet most of the time. You almost didn't notice she was there until she gave you a reason to notice her. It was nice because you never needed to worry about opposite schedules or late night sleepovers with Kate. Remy Lebeau was less than graceful with his clanging and frankly a little loud. Also, Yelena didn't look like that. 

As you stepped into the open concept living room and kitchen space, your eyes fell on a half dressed Remy. The bare skin of his broad shoulders was practically glowing in the warm, midmorning light. His back was turned to your general direction, which thank god because you needed a moment to collect yourself. Gray sweatpants handing down low on his hips. Everything important was covered obviously, but Remy was still objectively attractive. Dimples on his lower back and an… impressive physique weren’t as obviously the night before. He went from being kinda attractive to concerningly hot. 

You knew damn well the stereotypes about men in gray sweatpants. Everyone did. It was an ongoing joke for a reason. It was a good thing his backside was the angle facing you because you knew damn well you could be a little curious. 

The pang of guilt low in your gut reminded you that you met this man about 12 hours ago. Not only that, you've been single for less than a whole day. He was making breakfast like a normal person and you were actively being a problem. Uh, what is wrong with me? My relationship isn't even cold. 

You needed some water to reactivate your kidneys and a ride to go collect your things. What you didn't need was to objectify your roommate as he existed half naked in his own fucking apartment. 

He was not this hot last night. He was still reasonably attractive with his marblesque bone structure, dark eyes and tousled hair. Reasonably attractive but not your type per day. Right now, he was looking more and more like your type. If you were already over James a day later and finding someone else attractive, it seems like you were just as bad with the wandering eye that he was. 

“Good morning. Can I help you, Chérie?” That smokey sweet Cajun drawl sent a shiver down your spine, while sitamuously snapping you out of your mental war about finding him appealing. His voice was still raspy with sleep like he hasn't spoken at all. You don't know how long you've been staring or how long he's been aware of it, but getting caught was deeply humbling. 

Your eyes wandered to the living room soace, finding just about anything else to stare at that wasn't Remy's bare skin. The couch where he rested his head when you were hunkering down on his pillow top king mattress. “Hey, so my roommate should be at work and my ex should be in class. So it would be cool if we can get stuff sooner rather than later. I'll be fine if they're there, but I would rather not see them, does that make sense?”

“Oh. No. I just didn't want to startle you. That's all.” You spoke calmly, after taking a moment to collect yourself. It seemed like a good excuse, but the deep chuckle from your new housemate told you he wasn't quite convinced. Well shit. 

“That it does. I assume you want to shower first, because it's been hours and you still smell like Jaggermsister.” Remy said, before turning to face you. He looked amused, which seemed like his normal state. That ever present smirk was clear on his face. “How'd you sleep? Good? Want some aspirin, bébé? Coffee? I have omelets on the stove that should be done soon.” 

“Jaggerm- how much did you let me drink?” You were already embarrassed because it was pretty obvious you got caught checking him out, now you know you probably smell like death all the while. Wonderful. Your chest and face flushed pink with humiliation. God this man was letting you move in with him and now you're the smelly bed stealer with the creepy stare. Perfect. “Actually some Aspirin sounds fantastic.” 

“Oh no no no, Chérie. I did not let you do anything. I at one point tried to cut you off and you told me and I quote ‘my bar wouldn't be so slow if I wasn't a coward ass pourer.’ You're kinda mean, Belle. Fiery. I like it. Keeps Remy on his toes.” He grinned at you, those dark eyes warm with something you couldn't quite place. 

“...Oh my fuc- I'm so sorry Remy. Please don't kick me out.” You grimaced at him, running a hand through your hair. Now that he mentioned it, a shower sounded fantastic. You felt grimey from walking around the French Quarter the night before. 

“Don't worry, Beau. Remy likes his women with a bit of bite.” He responded instantly, shrugging your worries off, tone filled with humor. Something about the way he brushed everything off so light-heartedly was so reassuring. 

Remy passed you some aspirin and a glass of water, that same easy smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Go shower. I have clean towels. We unfortunately will be sharing a bathroom but I gave you a shelf in the cabinet and a drawer. I'll finish up breakfast while ya' clean up. You'll feel a lot better after you eat.”

You nodded your head, a relieved smile passing over your face. Clean clothes. Clean hair. Smelling halfway decent. Perfect. “Okay, I shouldn't be long. Maybe 15-20 minutes. I'm fast.” 

“Take your time, belle. I showered this morning. We'll get your stuff on time, don't worry ‘bout it.” Remy reassured you, which although you hate to admit it, you needed from him. The concept of seeing James or Yelena was enough to churn your already irritable stomach. “Thank you Remy…”

 His comment lingered in your head as you stepped under the rainfall of the shower. It lingered as you combed out your wet hair with your fingers. It lingered up until you slipped into Remy's passenger seat. Up until your key turned the lock of your apartment in the Garden District, all you could seem to think about was the fact Remy Lebeau liked you in his shirt.

“Oh an’ petite? You look a hell of a lot better in my shirt than you do his.” He mumbled lowly, almost as if the comment wasn't quite for your ears. It didn't keep you from hearing it. You just gaped at him, before turning on your heel and finding your way to the shared bathroom.

[drdemonprince]

Hey Doctor Price!

Do you have any tips for how to stay sane while autistic with no privacy? I live in a one room college dorm with a freind and there's literally nowhere anywhere on my campus where I can have even 15 minutes alone without being on edge that someone will come in any second. I'm going nuts and struggling to cope :[

I was in a four person dorm room on a 50,000 student campus and suffered from overwhelm virtually all the time, and I had to compensate by learning to really scope out the places where privacy could be found, so I believe I have some relevant tips for you!

Locate the study rooms or study carrels that can be signed out for individual use, typically in the library. Keep a close eye on them and book them as often and as early as you can, as they tend to be booked up during finals quite quickly.

Scope out the computer labs and study areas in department-specific buildings and get a sense of their busy and fallow periods, especially ones that remain unlocked during the weekends. I worked in the Psychology Department computer lab as a work study student, and they were completely empty on the weekends. The Sociology Department's computer labs were also totally empty most nights and weekends too.

For that matter, find on-campus jobs that can get you some privacy, often lab monitoring or administrative jobs in smaller offices. One summer I worked at the front desk of the student newspaper, which was tucked away on the eighth floor of a massive building, and it got basically no business because it was the summer. I also worked as a Psych Department admin and hid myself away in the copy room and supply closet as often as possible. If a job gives you key card access to break rooms or bathrooms you might not otherwise be able to use, so much the better.

Find the bathrooms that are tucked far away from any heavy activity. Check out the basements, top floors, and down around the corners of long hallways, and near meeting halls that have to be reserved for special events. The Chemistry building had a weird, shitty women's restroom that had been converted from a supply closet across a long walkway connecting two buildings, and everybody hated it. That meant it was nearly always empty. In my old office in the Psych building at Loyola, there was a bathroom off the main hall that was busy, but then another that was up a half flight of stairs near a room that was only ever used for guest speakers. NOBODY used that bathroom. I spent hours in there curled up in the dark vaping.

Learn the rhythms of a building or area of campus so you can take advantage of slow periods. If a building only has one dedicated purpose, such as a massive lecture hall, try checking it out when you know there aren't any class sessions happening. If a building is only used for recitations but those are only on tuesdays and thursdays, check it out on a wednesday. I went to a big football school, so on weekends half the campus was absoultely crawling with sports fans, but the gyms were completely dead during that period.

Stairwells. Sit at the tops of stairwells. If a building has multiple sets of stairs, find one that's far off in a corner and then hike your ass all the way to the top floor. The southwest stairwell of Loyola's Information Commons is a place I've written whole essays in, and even attended Zoom meetings from, it's so quiet.

Learn you roomate's schedule. If you're on good terms, ask them to put their schedule up on a whiteboard where you can see it, and share your own. Both of you will want time alone sometimes, and coordinating can really help. If your'e on good terms you can text as well. If your roommate ever requests alone time to study or to fuck, you get to, too.

Find the totally useless neglected spaces by exploring a little. Some dorm buildings have a shared kitchen in the basement or an activity room with air hockey tables that nobody uses. Laundry rooms are good during off times. Because most campuses are in a perpetual state of construction, there's usually old union buildings or emptied-out department buildings that haven't officially closed down yet but have next to nothing going on in them. There's lots of small waiting areas by professor's offices in nearly every building. Try every door. Duck into available classrooms. You will get interrupted sometimes but the more you learn the countors of the place and its patterns the more mastery you will have, and the less stress you will feel about the possibility of being interrupted.

I know that you said there is nowhere for you to find privacy, Anon, but I promise you that is not true! I have been on 50,000 person campuses, 12,000 person campuses, and for a few years I worked on a 2,000 person campus. I was ALWAYS able to find tucked-away bathrooms, empty classrooms, tops of stairwells, and weird neglected study areas to find some peace in. You can too. Please explore and help yourself feel more in control of this stressful situation! Good luck and let me know how it goes.

[teddyeyeseddie]

The Cherrywood Motel

Cigarettes, Dominoes, Rum

rockstar!eddie X housekeeper!reader

masterlist

(a/n: had 16 pages of this written, scrapped it all and took it in a completely new direction! I'm very happy with what is happening so far and I am loving all the feedback! thank you @lofaewrites for looking this over, I owe you the world :) )

Now Playing: Its Called: Freefall

It had been a few days since your grocery trip, the weekend coming and going, not seeing much of Eddie. 

Monday comes quickly, waking you with a jump. You start your morning by taking a quick shower before putting your uniform on for the day. You settle for your usual keds and ruffle socks, the baby blue skirt and top with white accents matching perfectly. You tie the ribbon of the skirt behind your back, exiting the room. 

It’s cold once you get outside, shivering as you lock your door. 

“Sweets, no jacket?” a voice comes from next door. You find Eddie in plaid pajama pants, a worn t-shirt and a leather jacket, smoking a cigarette. He approaches you, shrugging off his jacket and placing it on your shoulders. 

“M’ not going far,” you mumble, looking down at your feet. 

“Doesn’t matter, don’t want you goin’ cold,” he takes a drag from his cigarette, turning his head to blow the smoke in the opposite direction, the veins in his neck now visible. 

“Don't work too hard today,” he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it before turning and retreating to his room. 

You make your way across the courtyard, the air nipping at the back of your neck. You’re thankful for Eddie’s jacket, the thick leather doing a good job of keeping you mostly warm. 

You push your way into the laundry room, thankful for the warm air that invades your space once you’re inside. You find Christa sitting on a dryer, kicking her legs as she sips on a cup of coffee. 

You go to shrug off Eddie’s jacket, but Christa stops you when her shrill voice breaks the semi silence of the room. 

“Whose jacket is that?” she squeals as she rushes towards you, coffee now sloshing and spilling as she walks. 

“Um, Eddie’s” you reply, pulling it around you as nerves settle low in your belly. 

“First a shirt, now a jacket? Is there something you’re not telling me?” she questions, arms crossing across her chest. 

“No! He spilt coffee on me and it was an apology. Then, this morning, he was out smoking a cigarette and saw I didn’t have a jacket so he lent me his. It’s not a big deal, he’d probably do it for you too,” Christa rolls her eyes, sipping on her coffee as she looks over you. 

“Whatever you say…” she sings as she walks away. You shrug off Eddie’s jacket, hanging it on the coat rack before heading towards your cart to pack it for the day. You replenish the soaps and shower caps before you grab your mop you left to dry and a few rags. You glance over at Eddie’s jacket, contemplating wearing it until the air outside heated up making it comfortable enough to be in your short uniform. 

You decide to forgo it, the air a little more tolerable outside as you walk out to your first room. It's messy, the room covered in takeout boxes and other trash. You throw your head back in a groan, walking back to the laundry room to collect more trash bags. 

You spend half your day in that room, having to rush through your other cleans to finish the rooms before check in at 3. You finish up your last room at 2:45, brushing the sweat from your brow as you walk back to the breakroom. You check where you left Eddie’s jacket but it’s gone. You push through the rack, searching frantically through the other coats lying amongst where you left his precious leather. You’re unable to find it after searching all throughout the laundry room and break room. You’re on the verge of tears when you make it back to your room.  Eddie is outside once he sees you walking towards your room, he had left the window open, letting the cool air in as he strummed his guitar. 

“Hey sweets,” he greets with a goofy grin on his face. 

“Hii Eddie,” you sniffle, Eddie frowning once he sees the tears in your eyes. 

“Now who do I have to beat up?” he questions as he steps towards you, hand coming to rest on your arm. 

“Someone took your jacket, it’s gone,” you sob, Eddie quickly shushes you and pulls you into a hug. 

“Sweets, sweets it's ok,” he murmurs, “S’ just a couple thousand dollar jacket, s’ no biggie,” he jokes. 

You groan at his words, pushing at him, wanting him to let go of you. He holds you tighter and rubs soothing circles on your back. You unintentionally melt into it, feeding off of the energy Eddie is letting out. You sigh and let yourself be held, mumbling a soft “Im sorry” as he continues to hold you. 

He pulls away, grabbing your shoulders as he keeps you at arms length. 

“S’ really ok. Got it in vegas last tour. I can always get another. You do know who I am right?” he winks, your eyes rolling as he strokes his own ego. 

“Only cause Christa told me,” you playfully snip back. 

“Ooo right to the heart, sweets,” he takes a hand off your shoulder, putting it over his heart. 

“But really, it is okay. Now if I gave you my Dio vest, oof that one would hurt,”

You giggle, the conversation washing away the hellish day you’d just had. You look up at him and see his eyes aren’t rimmed red like they normally are, it’d been a few days since your grocery trip and he looked better. 

“I’ll make it up to you somehow,” you say with a shy smile. Eddie nods before letting go of you, letting you retreat back to your room. 

“Maybe we can grab a bite tonight?” he asks as you’re about to push the door open to your room. You turn on your heels and face him, a grin plastered on his face as he looks at you.

“Wherever you want to go, Sweets,” 

“Let me change?” you question, he nods letting you slip into your room. 

You change out of your work clothes quickly, being mindful that Eddie is waiting for you. You pull on a sweater before exiting your room, the cold air causing your hair to stand on end.

“Sweets, again with the no jacket?” he scolds, shucking off his jacket again before placing it on your shoulders. 

“Eddie, I can go get one out of my room. I'm sure there's one in a box somewhere,” You go to shrug the coat off but Eddie quickly stops you. 

“No! Like seeing you in my stuff,” he mumbles, holding out his arm to you. You loop your arms through his, allowing him to lead you to his car. 

It's sleek, black, and expensive given the smell of leather wafting through your nostrils as Eddie opens the door for you. He shuts the door once you're settled, rounding the front of the car before ducking into the Driver’s seat.

“Hey sweets, there's a pack a’ camels in the front pocket of your jacket, care to grab me one?” You nod shyly as your shaking hands snake into the front pocket of the jacket you’re wearing. You pull out a cig, handing it over to Eddie. Your cheeks flush red when your hands meet and you’re pretty sure that even in the moonlight, Eddie’s did too. 

He keeps one hand on the wheel, the other flicking a lighter. He leans into the flame, lighting the stick of tobacco. He pulls a long drag, letting the smoke out as he turns his head towards the window, the gust of wind taking the smoke out as fast as it entered the car. 

You direct him to your favorite restaurant out of the city, a small hole in the wall Italian place called Mama Josie’s. You went there so much, the waiters and owners knew you well. When you arrive, Eddie is quick to round the car and help you out. 

He offers you his arm again, you politely decline as you make your way inside. You open the door to the small restaurant. It used to be an old house so the ambience, Eddie notices, is very cozy. 

The hostess at the front of the restaurant leads the two of you to a table. Eddie sits across from you, the red glass of the light above you casting shadows across his face, deepening the bags that have formed under his eyes. Even then, Eddie is still one of the most handsome people you’ve ever seen. 

You both order a drink, browsing the menu as you make small talk. 

“What do you like here?” he questions as he peaks over his menu, smiling down at you. 

“Usually just the fettuccine Alfredo, sometimes their lasagna,” you respond, eyes avoiding his as you look over the options in front of you. 

You both order your food, Eddie deciding to try their lasagna and you settling for your usual alfredo. The waiter takes your menus, leaving you and Eddie in an awkward silence. 

“So uh- what brought you to Cherrywood?” you question, taking a sip of your drink.

“Finished a show in Nashville, played awful and stole my producer’s car. Ended up here and decided I’d spend my touring break here instead of hosting a house party every night of the week back in LA,” he says with a chuckle. 

He says it to almost impress you, but you find it sad, the idea that Eddie can’t even be in his own home alone.  He has to do drugs with other strangers to avoid being alone. It’s not impressive to you, if anything you find yourself pitying Eddie. You see the way he acts after he dips into his room for a second in the middle of a conversation with someone. You notice the constant sniffling and rubbing of his nose. You can smell it on his breath. You can see exactly who Eddie is without even having to try. 

So, when he tells stories of why he’s here and who he is, you doubt him. He tells you that isn’t who he is, but you know looking at him, looking into his eyes, that he is exactly who people crack him up to be. 

“What about you?” Eddie asks, snapping you out of your trance. 

“Apartment flooded. Didn’t have enough to move so I’m there for a few more weeks until I can afford a deposit,” 

“Oof- that sucks bad, Sweets,” Eddie says with a groan. 

“Yeah, it's okay though. The long term rooms are cozy,” you shrug. Eddie begins to fidget in his seat, eyes scoping out the interior of the restaurant. He locks eyes with your waiter and flags him down. 

“Where is the restroom?” he asks, hand rubbing at his nose as he does so. 

“Through that door and to the right, sir,” 

“I’ll be right back, maybe our food will come faster?” He gets out from his side of the booth, smoothing out his jeans before heading in the direction of the bathroom. 

You sip on your drink while he is gone, mind beginning to wander. You think about how many women would kill to be where you are right now, Eddie being a heartthrob in every sense of the word. He was charismatic, bold in the way he expressed himself. He was captivating and oh so charming. He was dangerous and littered with red flags, a concoction of drugs and daddy issues, a recipe for disaster. 

You could see how someone could fall under his spell. The way the light catches his eyes when he smiles has all those red flags turning green. He made your heart race and break at the same time. He made your cheeks flush and your mind race. But you knew, those green flags would only keep their color for so long.

“Sorry sweets, there was a line,” he says with a chuckle, your head snapping up when he takes his seat across from you. 

He’s not as fidgety when he sits down, his nerves now seeming to have settled. Your eyes snap to his face, his pupils are blown wide, his nose red and irritated. You frown when you realize what he went to do. 

He needed a bump, something to get him through dinner. Your eyes meet his, the look of disappointment evident in the way your face twists. 

“You couldn’t have waited until we were back at the motel?” you bite. Eddie is about to retaliate but the waiter comes to the table with your food. 

The two of you eat in silence, Eddie simply handing the waiter a wad of cash before slipping out of the booth and walking outside. 

“Seriously?” you snip as soon as you are both outside. 

“I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, think that you weren’t the Eddie Munson people crack you up to be but you just proved it right there, Eddie,” 

“Oh get off your high horse, it's coke,”  he’s snarky in his response, trying to brush off the fact that he had to do a line to simply get through dinner with you. 

“That's right Eddie, it's coke,” you bite, squaring your shoulders and crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Oh get off it, you’d sound like my mom if she was still here, sweets,” he backs away from you, making his way to the car.

“I’m not getting in there with you,” you state confidently. 

“Sweets, just get in the damn car,” he whisper-yells from his side of the car. 

Your feet stay planted, arms still crossed over your chest as you shake your head. 

“I’m not getting in the car, Eddie,” it's your turn to back away from him, heading back inside to ask Mrs. Josie if you can use their landline. 

Meanwhile, Eddie is contemplating following you, but he knows you won’t listen and if anything you will cause a scene. He lets out a yell as he punches his steering wheel, starting up the car and peeling out of the parking lot, leaving you there. 

You call Christa, begging her to come save you from the situation you were in. She is quick to get to where you are, pulling up to where you’re sat on the curb. You pull open the door and settle into the passenger seat. 

“So what exactly happened? All I got from your call was Eddie and come get me,” she questions as she pulls out onto the main road. 

“E-eddie he uh, did coke in the bathroom. Got into a fight about it. Made me feel real small that he couldn't even get through dinner with me, he needed to get high,” you say with a small sniffle. 

You don’t want to be upset, Eddie is just some heart throb that is meant to rip through your life. He isn’t good for you and you weren't made for him. He would run circles around you, he kept a pace you would never be able to keep. 

But you are, you’re upset he left you. You’re upset that he did what he did. You’re upset that he didn’t see the problem with it all. 

“Oof, that’s a tough one babes,” Christa says with a grimace on her face. She pulls into the Cherrywood and parks in front of your room. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see that Eddie’s car, better yet, his producer’s car, isn't there. 

“Thank you Chris, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you lean across the center console of the car in order to wrap her in a hug. She pats your back before releasing you. 

“Get some rest tonight, babe. I’ll cover for you tomorrow..” 

You toss and turn all night. You were almost asleep but when you heard the door to Eddie’s room open and slam shut, you knew there was no chance you were going to have a restful evening. Knowing that he was so close and so reachable, made your stomach turn. You sit and listen to the silence, it finally being disturbed by the twang of a guitar. 

Her fight and fury is fiery

Oh but she loves

Like sleep to the freezing

Sweet and right and merciful

I'm all but washed

In the tide of her breathing

The notes bleed into your room, the same routine as last time recurring as you lay in bed. The inflection and notes changing as he masterfully melds the words with the sound of his guitar. You fall asleep like this, finally relaxing as Eddie Munson’s voice lulls you to sleep. 

Tags &lt;3 @yunnie-f1 - @nope-thanks - @meganwinchester - @daisyridleyyyy @ostricx - @aysheashea

[growup-gloup]

How to look like someone who has their life together - Part 1

The most profound thing I learned when I first became an adult is that no one knows what they're doing. A lot of looking like you've got everything together is literally just appearances.

Hair, nails, and brows. I don't know what the deal with these three features is, but if they're neat and groomed, you seem a lot more put together, no matter what's going on in your personal life. You don't even have to invest in an expensive manicure. Just nice, clean moisturized hands with no hangnails or chipped nails can go a long way.

Bonus Points: paint your nails a simple neutral color. My go-to is a soft peach-brown.

Keep your surroundings clean. No matter how big your space is, a single bed in a room you share, or your own apartment, start figuring out what your organizational system is. Stay on top of laundry and dishes. Sweep/Vaccum every night or every morning, depending on your routine. Make your bed every morning. Take out the garbage as soon as it fills up. Get rid of takeout containers.

Bonus Points: keep your fridge, cabinets, and closets clean and organized. You'll be surprised at what peace of mind you can get from opening a clean storage space.

Get clothes for YOUR body. I don't care what's trending right now. It doesn't matter if the outfit is wearing you instead of the other way around. Get clothes that fit you. Find out what colors and silhouettes suit you. A lot of it is through trial and error, but make a conscious effort to dress for your body.

Bonus Points: build a capsule wardrobe of less than 30 interchangeable pieces. These will be the timeless pieces you'll need to invest in, so take your time while you figure out what clothes suit you instead of going the whole purge-and-haul route.

I don't know how long this series is going to be, but I'll post more tips very soon. As long as you can keep yourself in check and take everything you do one step at a time, you'll be surprised at how competent you seem to appear.

💋