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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

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friction

words: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, semi public sex, server!reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, workplace romance

“alright.” you clap your hands together. “where is my trainee?”

“hey.” your eyes widen as you take rafe in, his arms crossed over his wide chest, biceps bulging against the sleeves of the uniform polo.

“wh-what?” you take a staggering step back.

“won't be here long.” rafe says quickly. “just… got in trouble with my dad.” his voice turns softer, but not for your sake, simply for his pride as he looks around.

“and so you had to get a job here of all places?” you question.

“most fitting for punishment. he said if i last two months then he knows i can commit to something.”

“so you're going to be working here… for two months. great.” you try to add some cheer to your voice, but it certainly fails. it was hard enough when rafe would come in to dine at the country club, having to serve alongside him will certainly be hell.

not that he does anything to intentionally upset you, his very presence gets you frustrated. from the second he walked in and you saw him for the first time, your face got hot and flushed and you had to hide in the walk in freezer to cool yourself down.

“so, where do we start?” rafe asks.

you snap out of whatever thoughts you were having. “your section.” you state, the unofficial leader of the servers, having worked at the country club for by far the longest of all the staff, even outranking your current manager in seniority.

“rafe, you're at a month and a half, you're so close.” josh says, eyes glancing between the two of you from the other side of the managers desk. “and y/n, you know better than to argue in front of customers.”

josh stands, hands on his hips. “sasha and i are going to take over your sections while you two… work out whatever is going on. just talk it out then get back on the floor.”

he walks out without another word, leaving you in the office alone with rafe.

“you made me look so fucking stupid in front of my regulars.” you grumble. you asked for something very simple. for rafe to bring your table sparkling waters, and he took them tap instead.

“i didn't know.” rafe huffs back, not turning to fully look at you. “sorry, but you still got your fucking tip.”

“just pay attention next time. i know you don't give a shit about this job but some of us need this paycheck to fucking live.”

“alright, i said fucking sorry.”

“alright.”

you both sit in silence, the time stretching out between the two of you.

“you're still mad.” rafe states.

“im just… frustrated.” you sigh, wishing you could pinpoint why your stomach always tightens when you're around rafe, why no matter how many shifts you work with him he puts you on edge, makes you act different.

“sounds like you could-” rafe cuts himself off.

you snap your head towards him. “some what?”

“i was gonna say some dick.” rafe turns his eyes back forward, even though there's nothing to look at but an empty wall.

“some dick couldn't satisfy me, you guys never make me cum.” you say it to upset rafe, hopefully dig into some insecurity he holds, but rafe just smirks.

“i could make you cum. and then we'd both be less frustrated.”

“both?” you question.

“yeah ‘cause you'd get your o and id finally get to fuck you.”

“i guess the only thing stopping us is locking the office door.”

you both move rapidly, hands meeting at the same time your lips do as you turn the lock and hear the satisfying click of confirmation. rafe instantly presses you against the door, his mouth devouring yours as his body presses in close.

all rational thoughts go out the window. if you were in your right mind, if rafe didn't drive you so crazy, you would never do something so brazen.

rafe reaches down, one hand delving under your assigned polo shirt while the other grips your ass.

you moan against his lips as his hand covers your bra, fingers quickly pushing the material out of the way to get at your nipple, his palm rubbing against you so perfectly you have no doubt in your mind of how skilled rafe is.

“fuck.” you gasp when his hand gripping your bum moves, somehow managing to get your belt off as he pulls it away, undoing your slacks to reach into your underwear.

he finds your clit and taps at it, teasingly, but with just enough constant stimulation to keep you from crying out as you kiss him, pulling back only to look at his face, the way his eyes have dropped and darkened with pleasure, his mouth pink and wet from your kisses.

“don't stop.” his voice is grisly as he begs, and you lean in and continue to kiss, tongue pushing into rafes mouth and taking dominance, but it's all for naught as his finger on your clit so effortlessly controls your entire body, reading your reactions and what you like most as he rubs and touches.

“need you shirtless.” you tell rafe, tugging at his collar. “take it off.”

rafe doesn't want to pull away, it doesn't seem worth it, but instead of continuing to kiss him, you pull his collar more until he has no choice but to unmold himself from your body and take a step back to toss off his shirt, watching as you do the same, revealing one cup of your bra pushed down to reveal your pert nipple.

rafe moves quick to press his lips against your breast, hands working to undo your bra before he's back inside your pants, circling around your entrance and spreading your wetness up to your clit before continuing to rub, hearing your soft moans and whimpers as he switches to your other breast.

“need your cock.” you beg, but rafe isn't ready yet. he knows it will be the ultimate end to your mutual suffering that was just used to hide your bodies attraction, sexual frustration boiling over.

as much as rafe likes sucking your nipple into his mouth and feeling how warm and soft your skin is, he's desperate to move back to your mouth and swallow more of your moans, not so they don't get heard by your coworkers, but so they can become his and his alone.

“on the desk.” rafe pulls away, and a devious smile comes to your lips, knowing you're about to get what you want.

you push your pants and underwear down your hips in one go as you sit on the desk, glad josh keeps everything clear and clean as you spread your legs, rafes eyes dropping to your pussy.

you chuckle as his tongue darts out to lick his lips, but he doesn't have time for a taste as his hands begin to work on his own clothing until rafe is just as naked as you.

he pauses for a moment, standing a foot away from the desk, his cock standing up, calling out for your pussy. he gives you a look, and you know it's a question. a question you would have raged at fifteen minutes ago but you now know is what you've needed this whole time.

“yes.” you tell rafe. simple. one word. one syllable for rafe to surge forward, his arms around your body as he captures you in another kiss and pushes his cock forward against your entrance, burying himself in one smooth motion.

your head tips back, but rafe follows, hips snapping forward and instantly picking up pace, feeling how wet and warm you are, so good that he can't help his loose tongue.

“feels so good.” rafe grumbles. “can't believe we took so fucking long to do this.”

“maybe if you weren't such a-” you gasp at a particularly hard thrust, your sassy comeback stopping halfway through and quickly leaving your mind all together.

“mhm, that's what i thought.” rafe chuckles, but he's barely handling himself better than you, forcing himself to stay somewhat quiet when really he wants to shout your name for everyone to hear, to know he's claiming you.

“t-touch me again.” you tell rafe, and he knows what you mean, yet he's not ready yet, not ready for this to end, so instead one of his hands moves to your breast while he continues to thrust.

you let out a little growl, tempted to reach down yourself and rub your own clit if rafe is taking so damn long to do it, but both your hands are certainly needed to stabilize yourself against the desk.

“perfect pussy.” rafe says, stating it like it's a fact. it almost makes you laugh, but there's not a hit of humor in his voice, his eyes completely glazed over at this point.

he finally reaches down to your clit, beginning his motions from earlier this time with his thumb, remembering exactly what you like and what gets the biggest moan out of you.

you pussy clenches around rafe and he can tell you won't last long, his own speed increasing as his thumb runs so vigorously he's worried only for a second that he's being too rough before remembering who he's with.

“f-fuck!” you squeal. “rafe!”

your back arches as you cum, entire body shaking as your arms collapse underneath you, falling back against the desk as rafe continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

the feeling of your pussy constricting around him sends him over the edge, filling you up with a grunt and a mumble of your name.

“shit.” you gasp, sitting up as you regain some control of your body. “josh is going to be pissed.”

“hey, he told us to work out our frustrations.”

“happy six months.” you poke rafes side, making him flinch and then frown at you as he drops a fork in a clatter back onto the table.

“can't believe i could have gotten away with just two.” rafe sighs dramatically.

“hm, part of me thinks that you purposely got in trouble again so you had to stay working here.”

“now why would i do that?” rafe smirks, very obviously checking you out, looking past your gleaming name tag declaring your newly promoted position as manager to the cleavage peeking from underneath your top.

“meet me in my office when you're done rolling silverware.” you take a look around the country club restaurant, it's certainly not busy and your other staff can handle it as the night is coming to a close anyways.

“am i getting written up?” rafe questions, smile still on his face.

“no… but if you're quick you will get ridden.”

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eloquentlytired · 8 days

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18+ mdni

— his problem

pairing: old!logan howlett x fem short!reader tags: public sex — rough sex — unresolved feelings — tension — slight angst — old man logan doesn't run away upon hearing the words I love you ( shook! ) — he just needs a little therapy — he also likes calling you princess! — soft ending summary: you run away after you deem yourself a problem to logan, charles and caliban. of course a man like logan doesn't let that slide and you're to realize why once he finds you. author's note: i wrote this faster than a uni assignment so if u spot any mistakes i apologize im kneeling on the ground and pleading 4 forgiveness ( not really ). ENJOYYYY and as always reblogs & likes & conversations are sooo welcome ^_^

ৎৎৎ

the rain is rough and heavy on your skin but it doesn't stop you from running away. you were a burden to them — to logan, caliban and charles. they already had so many problems and you were just an addition to that list.

charles wouldn't agree. logan simply wouldn't show it. and well... caliban was caliban. he was just being realistic sometimes with his words but it wasn't his purpose to hurt you.

you heard yelling from a distance — it was like angry roaring. logan.

you tried to speed up the pace and run faster, your sundress clinging on you like second skin. you were soaked to the bone and your vision was getting hectic because of the many droplets staining your eyelashes.

one more blink and logan was suddenly running behind you — despite how old he'd become, despite his body literally suffering from the inside he had still come out to get you. it was the first time he did and not caliban or even charles.

“stop!” logan yelled at you, struggling to catch up but only a little. you were no mutant or nearly athletic; and you'd been running until now without stopping under the cold rain. your body was silently suffering.

a rough body pushed you on the nearest tree, your chin and your knees scraping against the wet trunk.

logan stood behind you taller and bigger as you struggled to remove yourself from his grip. one of his hands slid to your nape and he held it firmly, shoving your face against the tree. you winced. he growled. “what the hell were you thinking? running away after that everything we've done for you.”

tears prickled at your eyes and you swallowed so they wouldn't fall. not like he'd care. “I— I just wanted to get rid of one of your problems!” you yelled over the rain and logan pressed his mouth on your ear, his knees brushing against the back of yours. “the fuck did you say?” logan asked. or rather growled again.

“i’m a problem; charles loves me but caliban tolerates me and you—” you paused trying to push down another sob. “you despise me, I can sense it. just let me go!”

the grip he had on your nape, that strong veiny arm, was enough to overpower you. even when you thrashed around maniacally and tried to use your limbs to kick back, logan didn't seem the least affected. wild eyes took in the sight of you— your wet clinging sundress, the white panties peaking beneath it and your bare feet. logan was certain you'd have some new wounds there from all that barefoot running. you gasped as his unoccupied hand moved to pull down your panties, letting them pool around your ankles without care.

“logan, what are you—”

“enough. I have let you off the hook too many times. when you talk back, when you don't follow simple orders. when you do that shit at night.” logan was certainly referring to the times you two would argue and then he'd tell you to fuck right off in your room. you'd listen to that order but not without laying in your bed and touching yourself, coming with his name on your lips.

he heard. you knew. logan knew that you knew. and at that very moment, his entire patience for you broke down.

“logan!” one of his arms had put your head in a tight lock, your chin firmly nestled at the inside of his elbow.

he grunted as he fucked you from behind, his cock slipping in and out of your pussy in fast and deep thrusts.

your ass collided against his hips with every thrust and your helpless hands simply held onto the arm that had forced you into this headlock.

“I fucking saved you. I picked you up from the street,I took care of you—” logan grunted as his other hand played with your breasts, teasing a hard bud between experienced fingers. it'd been a while for the both of you but logan definitely knew more than you did.

a certain circular roll of his hips had you wailing and moaning loudly.

“— I fucking did everything so that you survive. and you're trying to leave me?” he couldn't help but feel that ache in his chest, one he hadn't felt in a long time. your body shook with each thrust directed at your weeping core, logan’s tip nudging that sensitive bulge of nerves while stretching you out with hidden intent.

“i'm sorry! I’m so sorry!” you sobbed and logan squeezed your breast painfully hard until you were looking at him with those eyes — hot tears running down your face. the rain kept going. and so did logan with fucking you under it.

your soaked sundress was a mere dirty fabric around your ankles alongside your underwear. logan drove his hips into yours, hissing everytime your pussy would tighten its grip around his cock, just like a damn vine. his white shirt clung onto his body wetly and his trousers were accompanying yours on the ground — around his own ankles.

“you’d really leave? you wouldn't come back?” he grunted in your ear and tightened his hold around your fragile head. every part of you was in fact fragile.

your hands shakily scratched against his arm and your eyes rolled back when some of your oxygen was stolen from you; logan was squeezing around your throat so tight while slamming into your pussy, raw and deep. it was impossible not to slur your words when he fucked you like this. and you enjoyed every moment. “wanted to— help. I wanted to make things easier—" but your words reached no one.

there was something about logan fucking you in the rain in the middle of the forest. you felt the attraction to this and so did he. he liked the way your nails clawed at his arm helplessly and how your asscheeks bounced against his hips. “logan—" you choked on your scream as his pace turned lethal, his cock drilling your insides without mercy. you could feel the slap of his heavy balls against your clit and everything burned. “do I have to be the bad guy? just because I want all of us safe? because I want you to be safe?” his words conveyed his feelings clearly and it was evident that you'd hurt him with your decision.

your head fell helplessly back on his shoulder and you twisted it around enough to look at him. logan followed your gaze and when your eyes met, you kissed. his lips melted against yours as his hand slapped your breasts, making your pussy clench again.

“keep your eyes on me, princess.” he muttered between hot kisses and you obeyed. it was a different experience to have logan like this, messy beard rubbing against your face while those tired eyes gazed into yours as he filled you up.

“i love you.” you mumbled against his lips and logan slipped his cock out just to force it back inside, your gummy walls spasming around his thickness. you expected him to get mad but logan simply kissed you again while wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you like that as he plunged his cock inside your wetness.

a few thrusts later you were coming around his girth, squeezing him so tight and the situation was just too dangerous for him to continue. “gotta pull out, princess.” he rasped but you squeezed around him in response while pushing your hips back, your intentions very clear.

those eyes looked up at him and fuck he really was a weak man. the weakest if you will.

logan came inside you with a shudder, stumbling forward until your body was squished between the tree trunk and his chest. “princess.” he grunted again and his hips melted into yours. no inch separated your connected bodies as he filled your pussy to the brim.

you had told him no but logan insisted to carry you back home, holding your bare body against his merely clothed one. at least he had his trousers on while you had nothing. “about the I love you part—” you were overthinking it and logan had noticed. he silenced you with a kiss; a kiss which he placed on your forehead. “when I woke up today and saw the house empty, your room empty... and when charles told me you wouldn't be returning—” there was so much emotion in his eyes that you couldn't keep your hands to yourself.

you reached out and caressed logan’s cheek, as well as the wrinkles by his eye. how much you loved those. “I want you to stay. I love you.” his genuine words and gaze made you melt and you found yourself leaning against him, resting your head atop his chest.

you were his problem now. it'd be alright.

#logan howlett #wolverine #old logan howlett x reader #old logan #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #x men #marvel #old man logan x reader #old man logan #old!logan howlett #hugh jackman #Spotify #logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman x reader

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bamsara · 3 months

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I dont know if it was intentional but I love that Narinder when he sees Lamb throwing up he turns gentle and pushes their wool and ears back so they dont get stained with vomit and for some reason it reminded me of how when Nari was throwing up too after the nightmare he had when they were on route to fight Leshy, Lambert helped him with camellias for the nausea.

Ahh, parallels. I think.

IM SO GLAD YOU POINTED THAT OUT allow me to ramble for just a moment.

Narinder was trapped in the Afterlife for over 1000 years, with little social skills and plagued by wishing for vengeance and his only company being two kittens who become disciples under his rule. He has terrible social skills, if not lacking them entirely.

(I would argue that Aym and Baal also have horrific nonexistent social skills, so those three cat's can't really help each other communicate properly to anyone else outside themselves.)

It can be argued that since The One Who Waits had other vessels to pass time and try to kill /annoy his siblings before the prophesized Lamb arrival, that he would have developed them a little bit more, but I would argue that the power balance would have been oodles more severe since the vessels weren't the promised one. He didn't need them, so if they no longer were of service or disobeyed him, he got rid of them. Whether just sending them out or killing them, any how.

Lamb, however, knows they are the last Lamb, the prophesized liberator of The One Who Waits, and therefore his only option. They knew that they were his only reasonable way out of there (whether they asked for it or not) so they were oodles more comfortable than how a professional relationship would have been.

So they asked questions, bothered him, played and ran around him. Complained and vented to him. Yapped and yapped. What is he gonna do? Kill them? Find a new vessel? He can't. "You're as trapped into this prophecy as much as I am, so let's be friends"

Example parts from Chapter 3:

The power balance equalizes because Lamb did not see his presence a God, but rather a fellow prisoner and victim of fate. Rude and demanding, but in the same chains as they were. 'My lord' was simply formalities at first.

This puts Narinder / The One Who Waits in social situations he hasn't been in (or hardly been in) in over a thousand years, and frankly, he had no idea how to navigate them:

Example from Chapter 5:

The God of Death has not needed to comfort or 'be there' for someone in a long, long time. The Lamb's presence is what forces him to try, even if his first attempt aren't perfect. So in that same chapter, he'll ask them a question to distract them. Conversation. Like how they do it.

While I won't post a screenshot of everytime this happens in written format (not including the dreams/memories/flashbacks that haven't been posted yet)-

The One Who Waits is pushed outside of his bubble when it comes to socializing in a way that isn't just 'God-to-Lowly-Vessal' format. He has to talk to them like a person, because he's being talked to like a person, not a god on a pedestal.

Obviously after the final battle and betrayal (to both of them, otherwise known as the Grand Miscommunication) this means nothing for a while as tempers are still high and feelings are hurt. But overtime, this returns, and can show in small ways (ways that may not seem like comfort but is certainly an attempt) like just in Chapter 18:

Trying to bring them an 'offering' (breakfast) mirroring other times the Lamb has done the same for him:

Crudely offering to replace something they are upset at losing/later offering reassurance abet in a curt way:

And what you mentioned: earlier when the Lamb is throwing up, narration shows they're having trouble with keeping their wool, cloak, bell, ect all back at the same time. He can see that. He has a mental boiling pot explosion over the fact that helping them is even a want that he has after the denial crisis he's experiencing where the only answer a minute ago seemed like he needed to kill them, and he chose comfort.

It is intentional. Narinder is learning how to show care, and allowing himself to show care. Slowly, and not perfect, but learning.

#trod au #the rehabilitation of death #ramble #long post #apologies for the spew of words #there are other small instances in the fic outside of chapter 18 where he shows a little #but it's going to just get more and more noticable from this point on #with a lot of his behaviors he honestly needs to be smacked with a rock (deuragatory) /j #but the lamb does not take his shit and doesn't react in explosive anger #a 'be kind but take no shit' kind of vibe that has narinder put in a spot where he has to actively choose #whether the consequences of his actions is something he really wants or if he Wants Something Else

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akaneoxo · 5 months

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Breaking Dishes

Summary: You send your boyfriend Sukuna a text you instantly regret.

MDNI

WC: 1355

You bite your lip nervously eyeing the door to the shared apartment for probably the fifth time in the last fifthteen minutes. You fucked up. You fucked up badly. Half of you wishes you had a time machine to correct your mistakes. Like really wished. There are no sorries when it comes to your boyfriend. He believes strongly that whenever someone says something they mean it. He isn't wrong. You meant it in the moment, but certainly not now. You only said it to get him angry. The bratty part of you is still relishing in the fact you got a rise out of your usually level headed man. Your level headed man that was definitely on his way to fuck your shit up.

You check your phone again to see no new notifications. Just the last message he sent before you squealed and tossed your phone on the bed. Standing up and walking into the kitchen you shakily pour a glass of water just to give yourself something to do. It was a petty argument. Of all the things. The fucking dishwasher is what you decide to argue about. Not barely seeing each other for the last two weeks (only in passing), not the endless late nights out, not the lack of phone calls and communication. The fucking dishwasher.

You've reminded him time and time again just to unload the dishes, He remembers to do everything except that. Cooks you dinner before heading out to work, stuffs your messenger bag with your favorite snacks before you head to your classes, takes out the trash and even folds your laundry from time to time. You probably shouldn't have even got as angry as you were in the first place.

Is it that fucking hard to unload the dishwasher Sukuna?

You watch as within the minute your message is marked as seen and within that same minute three dots jump rhythmically as he types his response.

On my way to fix that rn.

You know he's not talking about the dishwasher.

He's talking about your attitude.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the lock on the front door turns. You suddenly hate the open layout of your apartment, Wishing there was a wall that blocked out the living room. You make eye contact with him as he locks the door behind him before stalking into the kitchen. Clearing your throat you push back some of the flyaways from your messy bun suddenly feeling cold in your pink slip nightgown. You try to damage control as he clears the living room in long unhurried strides.

“Uhm im sorry. S-shouldnt have lashed out like that. I-”

You think he's reaching for the dishwasher but he grabs you by your hips and pins you over it. The cool granite makes you shiver as he rests his weight against you. You squeak when he pushes your legs together tightly. You try again.

“Kuna i'm really sorr”

“I dont give a shit how sorry you are” He sighs out boredly before pushing your short nightgown over your plush rear. You gasp when he squats down without warning. Warm palms on your ass spread you so far your nether lips separate and your pussy is on full display for him. “I wanna know how sorry she is about that fucking attitude.”

You moan loudly when a familiar pierced tongue finds your clit. Tracing it lightly before he presses a wet smooch against your folds. Instead of giving your clit the attention it so desperately needs he turns his head and kisses your left thigh. You try to spread your legs and he chuckles “Mmm keep your legs closed baby” he speaks into your pussy before turning away again and kissing your right thigh. You feel him smile when you shuffle your legs a little closer. You can't help but be a little fidgetly. He has your pussy spread and hes just-

“Fuck”

Tongue fucking you.

You try to reach for anything to keep grounded as he groans into your slick. Moving his head with tongue. Alternating between burying his tongue into your cunt and placing wet open mouth kisses around your entrance. Rising on your tiptoes and whimpering when an arm locks around the front of your thighs pulling you more fully into his face. Moving his tongue in and out your hole at a fast pace. And there's still no stimulation on your clit but it's okay. If he keeps this up you can cum like this. One of his hands is sliding up between your thighs. You barely pay mind to it too busy grinding your ass into him finding a rhythm where your practically fucking his face. He pulls away from you watching your hole clench around nothing. Desperate to be filled. His eyes drop down to your clit. Swollen and almost pulsing with need.

Smirking he slides the hand in between your thigh higher watching you pathetically rub your clit against it. It's not really enough to get you off but it's still entertaining to watch you try. You let out a frustrated groan before stomping your foot and he checks that fast by unexpectedly sliding two fingers into your cunt and just as quickly they're gone. He thinks he knows exactly what you need when you let out a frustrated huff.

“Quiet the temper tantrum for such a needy fucking pussy sweetheart.”

There's a loud smack on your ass before he pulls back spitting on pussy before standing. You whine when you hear him unzip his jeans and there's another smack on the opposite cheek. The pierced head of his cock finds your entrance and you feel tears spring from your eyes as a hand settles on to the back of your neck.

Your cheek is pressed into the cold granite with a squeeze. Mouth hanging open in a silent moan as he sinks into you in one fluid stroke and stills. Trembling you reach a hand behind to rest on his stomach. Freshly manicured french tips curl into his black shirt and pull him into you because forget the trash-dishes you just missed him and his dick. You really didnt give a fuck about the dishwasher. Leaning over you Sukuna chuckles at your senseless tears.

“Your such a fucking brat you know that?” He murmurs into your ear as you still try to adjust to him. You can barely hear him over the sound of your own heart beating so loudly. You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks because he's not moving. He's just watching you struggle to take him. Sukuna kisses your ear before his tongue traces your upper ear. Bringing it into his mouth and sucking it loudly- exactly how you wished for him to do with your clit that's still pleading for this kind of attention despite being so full. He straightens back to his full height. “Texting me bitching about dishes when all you really want is some fucking dick.” He's pulling back slowly, dragging his cock out of your cunt before snapping back into you. Your entire body jerks when he repeats it over and over again. Continuing his pace until you can feel yourself climbing right back to that peak he so rudely denied you a few minutes ago.

A hand tangles itself into your messy bun before dragging you up so that you make eye contact with the ceiling. “My poor little girlfriend huh?” he makes an exaggerated pout at you before grabbing the hand that is still tangled in his shirt. “No one to fill her little pussy for a few days and starts acting bitchy instead telling me she misses me.”

As loving as your boyfriend is, it's times like this that he reminds you of how mean he can be.

Confused, you let him guide your hand down to your clit before rubbing slow circles around the bud.

“Gonna make you wish you played with this pussy tonight instead of me princess.”

Likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated 🩵 TY for reading ^.^

#jjk smut #sukuna x smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x black reader #jjk x you #jjk x black reader #black writer #jjk sukuna

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hanasnx · 1 month

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WITHHOLDING SEX — logan howlett.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: unfinished wip that im never gonna finish. WARNINGS: unfinished wip ノ fem reader ノ stripper reader ノ age gap ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ logan gets smacked for saying some dumb shit ノ degradation ノ outdated and lame anti-sex work rhetoric ノ toxic behavior

“You’re such a jerk, Logan.” you used to say, a little giggle to your voice as you scoldingly pat LOGAN HOWLETT’s broad chest, letting him back you into a dark corner at your club and buy a personal dance. He’d wave that fat wad of cash in front of your nose with that knowing look you’d come to crave, and you’d flirtingly comply. You’d even let him get cheeky with it, copping a feel up your thigh while in the privacy of a backroom. Just so you’d bat his callused hand away with a toying, “Ah-ah!” And he’d tilt his big head at you and push out his hips while you finished up your dance.

Months of playing with one another, led to his impatience getting the better of him. Late at night, asking you—a stripper—what you were doing later. He’s got this way about him that you watch so carefully. All he had to do was stare at you through those furrowed brows and jut his chin when he popped the question, and you obediently blurted out, “Maybe if you’re lucky: you.”

Much to your surprise, it wasn’t some one night stand. Booty calls turned to dates, turned to moving in together, turned to partnership. Not that you believe yourself to be a challenge, but you’ve never met a guy that could seduce you at your job, and you certainly never expected to shack up with him. Logan made it easy at first, always forward with you, putting up with your “diva attitude” as he likes to call it, driving you to and from work because he doesn’t trust the clients that hang out around the building when girls are just trying to get home. You fell hard, and you fell fast.

But lately, things have been different. Logan’s always been bull-headed—and a bit of a pig—but it never seemed to be as big of a problem as it is now. As much as you can love those traits of his, they get in the way of communication, and your own spite and stubbornness doesn’t soothe anything. You fight more than ever, you argue more than you have actual conversations. If you’re not fighting, you’re not talking, and he’s sleeping on the couch. Butting heads is not new, but now they’re not as easily solved without the shade of rose-colored glasses.

“Nah, baby, ‘cause a stripper like you was easy.” The prideful and malicious words struck you right to your core, whirling around to face Logan who’d been hounding after you. It’s written all over his firm countenance, he said it to hurt you, and he knew it succeeded—from the very first petname spat so facetiously. Your hand flies before you realize what’s happening, whipping across his cheek so hard it resounds throughout the room. It was a stupid move, ache pulsing hot through your palm from the contact, and chances are it’s worse for you than him.

Your voice burns from this latest yelling match, and you exacerbate it. “You’re such a jerk, Logan!” The dumbfounded part in his lips close as he pivots his spun head to meet your gaze. You’re not gonna sit here and entertain this any longer, you’re gonna be late for work, so you round his wide frame to hurry to the door. “Let’s see how easy you think I am.” you challenge, throwing open the door, “Good luck getting off without me.” you spit at him before slamming the door after you.

“That’s it, I’m so done with him—for real this time.” you claim, yapping the ear off your coworker at the lockers while you two get dressed.

“Oh, yeah, right.” she replies with a roll of her eyes, zipping up her boot. “Next week y’all are gonna be back together, attached at the fuckin’ hip. Who’re you kidding?” She stamps her foot down, and gives herself last looks in the vanity mirror, teasing her hair with her hands.

You throw down your needle and floss, halting your sew of a hole in your costume. “Shut up, it’s not like that!” you whine, annoyed by her prediction—more or less accurate.

She snickers. “See you out there.” she tells you, effectively dismissing the conversation as she makes her way out onto the floor. Somehow, her reaction only fans the flames of your spiteful commitment…. but even though the hurt is still fresh, you miss him.

It’s frigid in the AM, hugging your jacket close as you watch your breath steam in front of your face. The bouncer didn’t think to watch your walk to the car this time, knowing that your boyfriend usually picks you up. You forgot to tell him otherwise, but it’s not a big deal—until you remember you took your car this time and the heater is broken. You’ve taken three steps out the door and you’re already shivering, what are you gonna do when your brittle fingers can’t grip the wheel?

“Hey.” a rough and familiar voice breaks you out of your internal debacle, facing the noise promptly. Logan wearing his usual scowl and puffy vest—somehow he looks good. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up to reveal the cords of his forearms crossed across his chest, tailbone leaned against his truck. “C’mon.” He tilts his head in the direction of his vehicle. In one small second, you’re endeared by his gesture, he knew you were gonna be cold and a little unsafe—even through being angry he’d do this for you. In the next second, the warm feeling is quickly crushed under the weight of knowing Logan. This isn’t some knight-in-shining-armor moment. This is his apology.

You stick your frozen nose in the air, “No, thanks.” you respond. There’s no way you’re going to let him off the hook that easily. Back on your path to your car, you huddle into yourself to converse heat, but you still hear footsteps on gravel behind you.

“Don’t be like that, princess, I know you’re freezing.” he says. He only calls you that when you’re being especially prissy. “I know you didn’t mean what you said back there, so let’s just go home and I’ll hook and tow your car in the morning.” The impending presence of a palm against your upper arm alerts you and you flinch out of the way.

“I’m not getting into the truck with you, Logan, I’m mad at you.” you hiss. Your persistence is annoying, and if you were less wrathful Logan might’ve thrown you over his shoulder by this point. Something tells him this isn’t like other times.

His hand lingers in the air aside your sleeve, but draws back when he straightens to his full height behind you. “So you’d rather catch fuckin’ pneumonia than be within three feet of me?” his disbelief is deduced clearly in his tone, conveying how stupid he thinks you’re being.

So you double down, shrugging indifferently as you cross your arms over your chest. “If that’s what it comes down to.”

“Jesus, you’re a stubborn bitch.”

You round on him. “Logan!”

He inclines in your space, raising his voice as he gestures in front of him, organizing his verbal thoughts, “First, you tell me some bullshit about no pussy, and now you don’t even wanna be near me—“

You’re incredulous, matching his energy as you lift onto the tips of your toes to compete with him. “—Why would I wanna go anywhere with you when you’re being the biggest asshole—“

“—and it’s not like you can keep up with that shit. You’ll last a day- and that’s generous—!”

“—A day? You think I’ll last a day—?” You have the urge to laugh, a dry hollow sound.

“Face it, you can’t go a night without me.”

Obviously, you’re not getting anywhere and you’re tired. Defeated, you shake your head and turn on your heel. You’re beyond cold, and you say loud enough for him to hear, “Get outta here, Logan, I don’t wanna see you when I get home.”

He shift his weight to one hip, raising his arms out at his sides in a questioning pose. “Oh, and where am I supposed to go? Huh? Where am I supposed to go?” he interrogates after your retreating form, angry at your reaction, at the fact you’re walking away from him, the idea he’s not going to be in a warm bed with a warm body to comfort him to sleep tonight.

It’s his own fault. “I don’t care where you go! I’m not letting you in.” you reply with a shake of your head.

#unfinished wip #ch: logan #logan howlett x reader

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sweetchildcloud · 8 months

Text

How Alastor would be as a boyfriend/lover

Pairing: Alastor x A!Reader

Tags:fluff,cute,maybe OOC?[out of character],kisses,pecks,snuggling.

P.S: this is my first time writing about Alastor so im sorry if its not good :/

A/N: this picture is how Alastor will look at his SO and nobody can change my mind

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia

Alastor is a very devoted lover and would often do thoughtful and charming things for you like leaving flowers on your doorstep (even tough you both stay at Hazbin Hotel in the same room) or cooking elaborate and delicious meals for you.

He never really strayed from his polite, elegant demeanor or charmingly cocky smile, and seems to truly care for you a great deal. (everyvone at the hotel will always look at you with a stunned look because the radio demon actually fell in love with someone?)

You loved how sweet and kind he was to you and how charmingly adorable he was as well.

He would often shower you with gifts (of stuff you like) and affection like holding hands and quick pecks on the cheek.

You can always rely on him to lift up your spirits whenever you felt down.

You two had a very healthy and happy relationship and brought out the best in each other.

When you two got home [Hazbin Hotel] from dates, you would often watch anime together[the most gruesome ones the better] while snuggling and discussing the episodes.

You especially loved how he would let you hold his fluffy tail and play with it whenever you wanted to and you would always told him how fluffy it felt [obviously in the privacy of your own room,who wants to see the all mighty and scary radio demon...being cuddles by their SO with his tail? probably killing them on spot so that they will not tell anyone]

He would make you hot chocolate and bring blankets to cuddle with on cold days.

On holidays like Valentines day, he would get you elaborate boxes of chocolate covered strawberries, and take you on romantic walks in the forest of his room where the two of you would hold hands, talk about your dreams and hopes, and enjoy the beauty of nature together.

His ears would flatten whenever he was in a playful mood, and they certainly seemed very fluffy. They often brushed against your face whenever he leaned close, and the feeling of his soft ears against your cheeks always made you smile.

Alastor would often let you play with his fluffy ears and would sometimes rub you head affectionately adding a peck on the cheek in return. His ears were soft and adorable to pet, and you really enjoy stroking and touching them whenever he let you. [I LOVE WHEN HIS EARS FLICKERS LIKE UGHHH]

Whenever you two have a disagreement and you start arguing, he becomes very calm and stoic. He is not easily provoked and is able to keep his composure even when you are angry and arguing at him. He never raises his voice or shouts at you, and rarely even scolds you. Instead, he listens to you calmly, tries to see your point of view and eventually tries to find a solution that works for both of you. He is a patient and understanding partner who values harmony and communication.[since he's the radio demon and stuff and radio is communicating trough words]

He recognizes that arguing and fighting is natural in any relationship, but he also realizes that it is not the best way to resolve issues. Instead, he seeks to find common ground with you and to find a compromise that works for both of you. He is also quite good at apologizing when he made mistakes, and is willing to accept his share of the blame whenever the issue was on his end as well.

But in situations where things escalate and you start to get overwhelmed and emotional, he will immediatly stop and comforting you and try to calm you down in a gentle manner. He will be very understanding and comforting, stroking your hair and holding you tightly, whispering soothing and calming words into your ear and even offering to make you a cup of hot tea.

Alastor is very protective of you, since he had developed a very deep and abiding love for you. He is quick to defend you from others and will do whatever it takes to protect you.

He is a very powerful demon and when he is very angry or feels that someone has hurt you, he becomes very vicious and ruthless.

He has a fierce temper when he fels that anyone threatens to harm the ones he cared about, you most of all. The thought of someone even attempting to harm you incensed him and filled him with a burning rage. This trait is one of the things that you loved about him as you feel secure and safe with him.

When Alastor is upset or angry, his smile never fades from his cheeks but it shifts into a psychotic grin that frightens many,but not you. His eyes become hollow and cold, his breathing becomes rapid and his grin seems even wider than before. He gives off an air of menace and it is clear he is about to go on the attack. In this state, He often seems unhinged and out of control, but it is clear he still remains calculating and calm underneath. This state of his is frightening to many other demons, who tend to avoid him when he is like this.

When you're sick, he does his best to take care of you. He will cook you hot soup, brew you tea, bring you fresh water bottles and even rub your back and wipe your forehead to keep you comfortable. He is very attentive and caring when you are feeling ill and he will do everything he can to help you recover quickly and smoothly.

He will also do his best to entertain you while you are in bed, showing you all his favorite movies or programs [on his old tv],radio talking, joking around to make you laugh and even reading all the best books to you. [he will end up falling asleep cradling you on your bed,the radio will play 30' music,as Charlie gasps soflty saying how cute the two fo you looked as Vaggie tries to drags her gf away to do not disturb you.]

i hope you liked this and if you want more tell me and if you have doubts or questions if in the era of Alastor there were TVs, yes there were TVs at that time as the first TV was created in 1927 and he was killed in 1933.

i think Alastor would love old tvs unitl 1970 or 1980 because the others will remind him of Vox XD.

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fairuzfan · 11 months

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im trying to ask all different kids of accounts bc i can't get one solid answer - how would u specifically define zionist? do you think the people who are currently israelis (and are not west bank settlers, may they all be tried for their crimes) should be able to live in a decolonized palestine?

I had to take a couple of days mostly because I was trying to find a single concise answer for you in a citation. Before I give you a definition of a Zionist, I must first describe what Zionism and it's implications are. Here is Ismail Zayid's "Zionism, the myth and the reality" (click).

The very first couple of paragraphs of the book, he says:

Zionism, as a modern political creed, grew in close association with three interacting major forces which exercised a profound influence on the character and nature of the Zionist movement, resulting in three basic qualities characterizing this movement, namely: settler colonialism, expansionism and racism.

The first of the three major forces was the growth, in the nineteenth century, of European colonialism and imperialism and the expansion of the colonial settler regimes. The alliance made between Zionism and European colonialism is clearly attested to by both sides, identifying reciprocal benefits in the alliance. Herzl, in his "Der Judenstat," expressed clearly both the racist nature of Zionism as well as its role as a settler colonial outpost: "We should, there, form a portion of the rampart of Europe against Asia, an outpost of civilization as opposed to barbarism. We should, as a neutral state, remain in contact with all Europe, which would have to guarantee our existence."

There's more in the book that I can't type up lol, but in essence a Zionist subscribes to the idea of Zionism itself, and insists on the establishment of a settler colonial entity whether passively or actively.

Zionism is a settler colonialist movement, as stated by the founder of the movement for Zionism, Theodore Herzel (quoted above in the smalltext). It modeled itself after much of the European colonialist strategies, enforcing borders and nationalities on a previously border-lose world. I mention the making of borders as a fundamental part of colonialism because by rejection of those borders as a concept, we start to imagine the world in a post-colonial universe. Sherene Seikaly makes this point in her book "Men of Capital" in the introductory chapter:

But in such a search, it is almost inevitable that nationalism—its “lack,” its “strength,” or its “weakness”—will stand as a metonym for politics. In some renditions, the weakness of normative nationalism—a “political deficiency” and a lack of a national “spirit”—resulted in, as the leading historian of collaboration continues to argue, the catastrophe of 1948. In response, scholars have documented a national project among the Palestinians. This work is invaluable and has shifted the terms of debate as well as our understanding of the social and cultural geography of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in Palestine. However, to continue reveling in the marriage between national consciousness and politics reifies colonial epistemologies. Moving beyond nationalism as both the means and ends of politics is long overdue. Certainly, nationalism was one aspect of subjectivity formation, but it was not the only way to make politics. What I seek to destabilize here is not whether Palestinians were sufficiently national, but to ask why that sufficiency and/or its lack continues to be the measuring stick for whether people can remain on the land they resided on for centuries. Must people’s investment in the random and shifting borders that imperial and colonial officials drew determine their status? Are there other ways to think about politics outside, beside, underneath, and alongside this national prism?

I've said this multiple times before on this blog in different ways, but I'll state outright: I reject the notion of nationalism as a way for us to authenticate Palestinians' claim to the land they've lived on for centuries, as Seikaly mentions. Zionism's core goal is the establishment of such borders is aligned with European colonialism's core goals: division of the world so that they may categorize itself within the world's hierarchy.

Now, the core saying in the Free Palestine movement you often hear is "From the River to the Sea." This, basically, is a rejection of the establishment of those borders as a necessity for the Palestinians to be recognized. Zionism relies on border-making for it to be an actual thing. Without borders, Zionism would not exist. Which is why the "Balfour Declaration," that had essentially districted and redistributed Palestine is often referenced by both Zionists and antiZionists. Balfour, a well known racist and antisemite, had advocated for the establishment of a "Jewish State" not because he really cared what happened to either party — but specifically so that he could get the Jewish people of Europe.... out of Europe.

Seikaly mentions this in "Men of Capital":

However, we should qualify its meaning to get at the specific condition of Palestinian invisibility in colonial epistemologies. Zionists of the late nineteenth century did not imagine that there were no people on the land of Palestine, but rather that they were not a people. Theodor Herzl described a set of caricatures that inhabited what he called the land of Israel: the wealthy effendis who could be had for a price and the remaining impoverished peasants who could be smoothly removed without incident. These people were a motley crew without anything defining or unifying them. Zionists from various political leanings did not share Herzl’s confidence that the people who lived in Palestine would not be attached enough to its land to resist their displacement. However, the Zionist emphasis on the lack of a politically coherent and distinct people in Palestine who deserved to make claims to the land on which they had resided for hundreds of years would continue apace. The caricatures of the effendi and the peasant, as well as the depiction of the Palestinians as insufficiently rooted, continue to have currency. In the meantime, Zionists were hard at work shaping a cohesive settlement community around a new ethno-national understanding of what it meant to be Jewish. They called themselves the Yishuv. Zionism promised Jews who had suffered religious, political, and racial persecution for centuries in Europe that they could finally become European but only by leaving Europe. Anti-Semitism and Zionism had one thing in common: the belief that Jews could never assimilate in Europe. The process of becoming European by realizing a settler colony would be an abundant source of persecution: For the Palestinians it entails ongoing erasure; for the eastern (Mizrahi) Jews who did not fit the Ashkenazi (European) mold, it has meant decades of marginalization; and for the Ashkenazi, it required killing centuries of tradition, language, and culture to fit the template of the new Jew.

So now you know that Zionism is, at it's core the establishment of borders to reinforce itself as a colonialist entity — thereby enforcing a separation between the colonized and the colonizer that can seem material, but is, in fact, immaterial. Zionists are people who ascribe to the ideology that a Settler Colonial "Jewish State" must exist, and that its establishment is necessary for whatever reason, thereby enacting those borders and displacing the indigenous populations. But what does a post-colonialist society look like if we no longer have these regional borders and nationalism as we've come to understand it?

Palestinians argue for the Right to Return to their homes. I have family members that cannot see the places they were born in because they were kicked out and not allowed to return. I think, for these people especially, it's only natural that they be allowed to return.

You ask if people who are currently live in Israel should be able to live in a decolonized Palestine. Short answer: yes. Of course. There is no reason to reject these people who are willing to live in a decolonized Palestine.

Long answer: still yes but I'm going to re contextualize it a little.

We've established that a decolonized Palestine is one in which borders are irrelevant, as is the current version of nationalism, and no need for categorization. In a decolonized Palestine, as long as you are not a perpetrator of a "crime" (I put that in quotations because of the current colonial implications, but I lack a better word for it) that makes you — and not your grandparent/parent — directly responsible for colonization — like as you mention, settlers who violently expelled Palestinians — and willing to participate in a Palestinian society in which there is equality of all peoples regardless of race, ethnicity, economic status, or religion, then it is possible to become Palestinian.

Israelis are all, to a certain extent, culpable in colonization. There are antiZionist Israelis, but nevertheless, it doesn't change the fact that they are settled on land that was acquired violently. Of course, the same can be said for many USAmericans. To a certain extent, I am a settler in Turtle Island despite being a refugee. I willingly participate in a colony, whether I actually agree with it or not.

I think from hereon, to live in Decolonized Palestine as well as a Decolonized Turtle Island, we must make the reparations necessary to the communities who have suffered systematic violence at the hands of the colonial entity to truly live in a post-colonial world. You might be asking how I think that's going to be conducted — I am not sure. But what I do know is that living without borders — or in other words living without colonialist labels and all sorts hierarchies that arise — will require a reframing of the understanding of our world as well as how we interact with each other in it.

#palestine #gaza

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simpjaes · 7 months

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mtl to try his luck and fuck a married woman just cuz he can

MTL: hyung line + fuck a married woman

warning: infidelity obv

most

★ jay: im on that milf hunter jay agenda forever so you can't argue that he's the first one to be willing to fuck a married woman. I think he'd probably even prefer it sometimes, loving the idea that someone is willing to skew their own moral compass just to get him between their legs. the idea drives him up a fucking wall to be someone's dirty little secret, both in a good and bad way. the pros: quick and nasty fucks, hot desperate words whispered directly into each other's mouths, false promises and perfect situations that call for degradation. A total fucking ego boost for him. especially when he's moaned for and stated as the better fuck compared to the man you're married to. the cons though? well, he doesn't necessarily like sharing you, even if you were never his to share to begin with. hate fucks are fun but goddamn does he hate seeing you rubbing all over the man who never could or would eat the pussy right.

☆ heeseung: what heeseung wants, heeseung gets. he doesn't care if he looks stupid chasing a married woman, if anything, that's not even a cause to stop wanting in his head. who cares? he doesn't have to find out, genuinely, all you need to do is admit that you want him too. he can see it on your face every time he whispers dirty little words in passing to you. definitely the type to send unsolicited dick pics to your number after basically manipulating you to get it in the first place. honestly, heeseung would pester and fluster you until you'd have no choice but to break for him. to the point that you're chasing him. to the point that you can't stop thinking about him. your vows be damned, it would be a damn shame to keep pretending you don't want it. and oh god, would heeseung give it to you too. honestly, he'd play with your body to the point you'd forget you even got married in the first place. and fuckkkk, he would be elated to know he's got a married woman at his beck and call.

★ sunghoon: it would probably be an accidental thing on his part ngl. not saying he wouldn't go for a married woman but i think he'd be more inclined to chase a single person. that is, until he is forced into close quarters with you on a day to day basis. maybe you guys work together or something idk. sunghoon is the type who wants a relationship, and boy would it sting when he finds out you're already married. "but you don't wear a ring..." he'd probably comment, not really intending to sound rude but fr, he wouldn't have just tried to kiss you if you had been wearing said ring. and, well, it would probably spiral from there with both of you facing a moral dilemma. sunghoon would take what he could get after too long though, after all, he'd probably fall so aggressively in love with you to the point of becoming jealous and possessive. 100% would fuck you for the first time and ask you to divorce your husband while balls deep lmaooo

☆ jake: not intentionally, but it's not like you were honest with him about it. i think you'd be the aggressor in the situation when it comes to jake. the guy would do anything for you, and anything to get those loving compliments and bats of your eyelashes at him. the best part?? when he finds out he probably wouldn't give two shits about it because he's obsessed with you whether another man feels the same about you or not. it's def a "well someone's gotta change their outfit" moment for him, except more of a "well someone's gonna have to give you up" but it most certainly won't be him lmfaoooo. bro would slash your husband's tires.

least

p.s. im giggling bc this is 666 words aye

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #sunghoon smut #park jongseong smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake smut #jay smut #hardthots

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satellitespinner · 8 months

Text

dogtooth ; roommate!ellabs

˗ˏˋcollab with my beautiful angel @williamssgirl ´ˎ˗

- inspired by @beforeimdeceased “chaotic roomates” series ! please go support theirs!

reminder !! do not support neil or any of his work !

wc: 2.1k | her ver

⁃ roomate!ellabs who were bsfs w u before and when you needed a place to stay they happily invited you to join them on their lease !

⁃ cooking with them is... chaotic. but some days it was good!

⁃ bumping ur hip with ellie because she sucks and she gets all blushy and flustered

⁃ abby gently grabbing ur hips to get around you

⁃ taking .5s of them ALL THE TIME!! they hate it but you love it

⁃ they have no idea how to use the ring camera you installed, one day they've locked themselves out and are begging you to let them in

⁃ "open the door it's cold out ©" "let us in.... babeeee

⁃ falling asleep while watching a movie like a literal dogpile

⁃ while beforehand yall were arguing for twenty minutes on what movie to watch because you and abby wanted to watch scream and ellie can't handle horror for the LIFE of her

⁃ (so you eventually settle on a romcom)

⁃ abby and ellie playing video games and ur sorta just sitting there staring at their hands watching them play

⁃ "did u win?" "no i died."

⁃ when you do end up playing a game with them it's usually fortnite

⁃ abby is so gentle with you and helping you through the game

⁃ "good job babe!" "show me those bike skills" "want the sniper? i know you said you like those"

⁃ however with ellie....

⁃ "BABE BABE BABE KILL HIM SHOOT HIM SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT" "FUCK HE HAS TO BE A FUCKING BOT THERES NO WAY" "FUCK YEAH I GOT HIM TAKE THAT"

⁃ ellie putting her hands on urs on the controller when their first teaching you how to play and whenever she gets touchy <3

⁃ sitting on their laps while they play...

⁃ sleepover with them go NUTS

⁃ ellie buys SO MUCH SOUR CANDY

⁃ abby fucking HATES sour candy and you and ellie are trying to trick her into having a warhead

⁃ "no im not putting that vile shit in my mouth" "abby it's literally so sweet trust me" "no eat it it's just candy" "just try!

⁃ pouting to get ur way and she gives in (and immediately spits it out)

⁃ pouting to get ur way works with her no matter what

⁃ abby would be a personal trainer and also work somewhere in analytics

⁃ ellie would be a mechanic and livestream for a living (she acts like it's no big deal but she's gained a surprisingly large following)

⁃ reader owns a bakery that's also a flower shop and always brings in spare treats for them to have!

⁃ "guys i got doughnuts for you!"

⁃ you buy them flowers all !! the !! time !! and you assign really specific meanings to them

⁃ "so the poppy means... and the tulip with the poppy means..."

⁃ they're pretending to listen... (they are listening so intently)

⁃ them ganging up to tickle u at least once a day (you act like you despise it but in reality your devouring it)

⁃ FORCING THEM TO MAKE TIKTOKS WITH YOU

⁃ abby's texting you "Babe wdym I have to take a quiz on what aura I have." "can u just do it?"

⁃ omfg and forcing abby to get tiktok because she refused to get it for so long only for her to be on it more than you

⁃ getting into an argument with one of them is certainly something!

⁃ ur refusing to talk to ellie and ur communicating to her through abby (ellie is speaking to you directly and you are staring at abby "abby tell ellie im not speaking to her rn" and ur being DEAD serious... they're laughing their asses off

⁃ kissing abby in front of ellie to make her jealous when ur fighting

⁃ and whenever ellie and abby are fighting you straight up ignore them until they come to their senses and apologise

⁃ matching tattoos! you have a sun, abby has a moon and ellie has the stars V

⁃ uno and they both have extra cards under the table

⁃ "are you guys cheating" "OH MY GOD NO OF COURSE NOT-" "HOW COULD YOU EVEN SUGGEST THAT?!" "WHAT DO YOU MEAN?" "WE WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO YOU A GAMES A GAME"

⁃ ellie standing up to get water and you yell at her

⁃ abby and ellie pull pranks on eachother all the time!

⁃ and you are constantly getting caught in the middle of it

⁃ and one time you contribute and both of them are arguing on who did what prank having zero clue it was you

⁃ and ur just giggling off to the side

⁃ the two would have such bad jealousy issues

⁃ like they see u GLANCE at another girl and they're dragging you home

⁃ and then they go "we aren't even jealous people! she was practically eye fucking you. that's why we left!"

⁃ like girl she had a whole bf

⁃ imagine covering them in lipstick kissed and taking a picture...

⁃ making them do the lipstick trend

⁃ OR the nail polish eye colour trend!

⁃ u having a hard day and they're RUSHING to comfort you

⁃ girls were STRESSEDDDD like ellie's holding you while abby's rushing to get the bath filled up

⁃ "stupid fucking bathtub isn't filling up!!! hurry up!!!!!" and now they're more stressed than you fo

⁃ the nicknames.

⁃ ellie's pretty basic with it. calling you babe, baby, honey, pretty girl, etc.

⁃ but with abby she likes to be unique with it. calling you princess, darling, etc.

⁃ and u reversing the nicknames on them...

⁃ talking to abby and she's helping u w something and u go "thanks princess!" then kiss her on the cheek like nothing happened

⁃ "she's like "tf??"

⁃ but with ellie she's chasing you around the house and pinning you down till you say she's daddy

⁃ how rewardina it is for them when ther see u aet allblushy and stuff

⁃ they would feel so cocky and proud of the themselves

⁃ abby sending you playlists and ellie showing you drawings

⁃ and the gifts they would get u ! like gift giving isn't their love language but they wanna spoil you

⁃ "oo i like that shirt" abby's already ordered it. in every colour.

⁃ like you sneak a peek at a bracelet and now it's ellie's job to keep you distracted while abby runs in and buys it

⁃ sleeping w a stuffy and being so tired and giving it a kiss on the cheek and bestfriend!ellie is all like

⁃ "where's mine"

⁃ she gets jealous with the amount of plushies u sleep with "she's the typa girl to joke "hey mamas where's my kiss" after u get home from work and ur just staring at her like with flour all over you from a failed recipe

⁃ "no? okay sorry babe"

⁃ goodcop!abby badcop!ellie when u do something bad!

⁃ "babe.... just tell me where u hid my keys and all will be good" "ALL RIGHT LISTEN UP WOMAN..."

⁃ then they end up finding the keys under the couch

⁃ but u lowk hid them there cause you didn't want them to leave..

⁃ abby had a snapchat hey mamas phase and ellie was there to see it

⁃ AND ellie uses it as blackmail in the go

⁃ abby: "Ellie you're so dumb how could you get the directions wrong." "wanna see a magic trick."

⁃ abby backtracks so fast in hopes it'll save her from her fate (it doesn't).

⁃ "and that's the end of my magic show! thank u and goodnight "then ellie disappears because she knows abby will beat her ass

⁃ they have pictures of you in a gallery and you don't know about it

⁃ "is this me sleeping?" "gimme my fuckin phone back-" "you ain't seen NOTHING"

⁃ you would take so many pics of urself on their phones!

⁃ like at dinner and you've managed to sneak one of their phone's under the table and are taking silly selfies

⁃ and you take videos of them snatching their phones back

⁃ the screen is all black and all you can hear is rustling and the faint sound of ellie whining "babe my storageeee" and abby's just laughing

⁃ flipping them off by accident in a photo (both me and aria are victims to this)

⁃ you mean to do 🤘 or 👍 but instead do 🖕

⁃ ellie's feigning hurt and abby's laughing so hard

⁃ abby uses "🤣" and "LOL" but then ellie uses "😭" and "LMAO"

⁃ abby is so literal with her texting

⁃ She types like this. Always uses proper grammar no matter what.

⁃ and ellie... ELLEI TWXTS LIKE THIS

⁃ "babky were is tje Irnon" "ALL CAPS NO PUNCTUSLYIK PJNCTISNTILN"

⁃ ur the only person who can translate ellie's awful texting so you'll occasionally get texts from joel saying stuff like "Kiddo do you know what she was tryna say here?"

⁃ ellie is dyslexic

⁃ and a professional yapper which is why she likes streaming so much

⁃ abby fights the urge to tell her to shut the fuck up

⁃ and sometimes after like a really hard day at work all you wanna do is relax and they just let you

⁃ sending them paragraphs about how much you love them just out of the blue

⁃ ellie's like "??? ru gonna kys"

⁃ abby leaves you on read and smothers you when she's home

⁃ abby chronically leaves people on read

⁃ ellie greets you by slapping or pinching ur ass and abby greets you by giving you a kiss on the side of your face ellie also pretends to fuck you from the back whenever you bend down to pick something up

⁃ the amount of facetimes when you didn't live with them! and the amount you get when your on some sort of work trip

⁃ falling asleep on call and them taking secret screenshots and texting eachother in fear of waking you up

⁃ facetiming you on abby's macbook

⁃ abby uses apple and ellie uses a microsoft laptop

⁃ when ur on a work trip and they're harassing you to call

⁃ "i'm in a meeting" "answer facetime"

⁃ "gimme 5" "5...4...3.2.."

⁃ nobody's home except you and you burn yourself cooking

⁃ they are be RUSHINGGG home

⁃ "guys it's fine i literally barley did anything" "YOUR GONNA DIE"

⁃ "ARE TOU OKAY?!?" "i am literally fine"

⁃ omg the day they actually pay attention to work and your at home and they don’t have a lot of time for you is the day you die

⁃ "i'm in a meeting what's up" "im dynggg.... come back......... zhellipppppp....

⁃ and then you get all bratty and needy

⁃ "come home or i'm gonna fall ill' "YOURE GONNS

⁃ FALL ILL??"

⁃ sitting in abby's lap while she's working from home

⁃ <3

⁃ she's sitting on her chair and ur straddling her with ur face in her shoulder

⁃ biting her arm randomly and she's like "ow wtf?!"

⁃ " biting her for the first time and she's like "?!" girl was alarmed... "are you going feral what is up with you"

⁃ eventually she just gets used to it at some point

⁃ zero reaction to you biting her now

⁃ they go to the gym without you and send gym selfies

⁃ abby LOVESSS to flex

⁃ she'll never admit it but this girl is trying so hard to excentuate her muscles around u

⁃ throws you over her shoulder effortlessly

⁃ annoying her and going "watcha gonna do abby? kidnap me?" and she, in fact, does.

⁃ "let me go!" and she just pats ur ass

⁃ and ellie's always wearing shirts that show her arms off

⁃ making them kiss LOOOLLL

⁃ "awh i think we need a ship name now!" "SHUT UP"

⁃ forcing them to talk to eachother by ignoring them and then they have to talk to eachother on wether or not ur pissed at them or if ur just not in the mood to talk

⁃ them fighting over everything including you

⁃ but or not official with either of them and could go flirt around if u wanted

⁃ them showing up at whatever place u have a date at or something and trolling the poor girl ur out with and then angry dragging u home

⁃ they get SO possessive

⁃ ellie listens to boygenius and you had to beg abby to listen to them and now she loves them

⁃ ellie's got 21 savage, the weeknd, drake, tyler the creator, the neighborhood, chase atlantic, etc on her playlists

⁃ her and abby have similar music tastes with distinct differences

⁃ like abby listens to tyler the creator as well, chase atlantic, HOZIER, frank sinantra, frank ocean.

⁃ all of you love phoebe, mac miller, lorde and childish gambino!

⁃ and you LOVE kali uchis. ur the lalalala to their okokok

⁃ you discovered her when she released telapatia and have been obsessed ever since

⁃ both abby and ellie had a girl in red phase...

⁃ sleeping together in abby's bed bc hers is the biggest

⁃ ur favourite mornings are ones when you can't even get up and out of bed because abby's spooning you and ellie's arm is hung loosely over ur waist

⁃ your situated in the middle with abby on ur right and ellie on ur left

⁃ waking them up with breakfast! "abby waking up to smelling some delicious food and hugging you from behind with her eyes closed and neck shoved into ur shoulder "smells s' good baby... wanted to spoil us even more after last night huh?" in their raspy morning voice

⁃ all ur in is an oversized tee and some white bow cotton panties (it's one of abby's post workout shirts)

⁃ the only dirt abby has on ellie is the amount of foul photos she has of her sleeping

⁃ ellie drools AND snores

⁃ latching on to you for dear life

⁃ ur shoving the pillow over ur ears in hopes she'll stfu

⁃ and she NEVER does

⁃ sleeping skin to skin with them :)

⁃ "take of your clothes" "why? you wanna..?" "no i just wanna feel u... is that okay?"

⁃ abby has soft skin and ellie has a bunch of random bruises and scars

⁃ abby and ellie are genuinely head over heels for u in all seriousness

⁃ even if they don't like eachother they cope with it for you!

⁃ smooching one of them really hard and like forcing the "MMMMWAH" sound

⁃ ellie has a main insta with zero posts and a spam with 827

⁃ abby has three accounts, one for gains, her main & her stalker (for ur safety obviously)

⁃ meanwhile u just have a main which u post on all the time and a private that nobody knows about for stalking

⁃ ellie shit posts "lol" and it's a photo of a rat smoking a cigarette

⁃ and those stupid memes

⁃ (image)

⁃ sent to abby cause you made a joke about her being breedable in bed 😭

⁃ nsfw!

⁃ ANGRY MAKEUP SEX.

⁃ ellie kisses ur tummy before she eats it

⁃ and abby puts her forearm on ur lower stomach and applies pressure

⁃ abby calls u good girl

⁃ abby comforting you when ellie's going just a little bit too aggressively and manhandling you

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bbunivxrse · 9 months

Text

❥ HATED HIM - SATORU GOJO

pairing: - gojo x f!reader contents: you hate gojo, but even so, youre forced to go on a mission with him, which ends badly. for you, anyway. - no warnings js fluff at the end but a bit ooc?? i think??? word count: 1.9k a/n: hi!! ik im late but happy new years!! i wanted to post earlier but i have no idea what to write :sob: if u have any requests pls send i need ideas

you’ve always hated Satoru Gojo. the day you met him you knew you’d never want to be around him. his persistent grossly inflated ego and cocky attitude always had your gears grinding. the way he seemed to somehow develop a crush on you despite you never saying a single kind or loving word to him is beyond you. he has no shame in trying to flirt with the girl that not only has no interest in him, but also openly hates him. no matter how many people are around he’ll always go out of his way to bother you. everytime you hear him speak you think about how fucking lucky he is to be the strongest, if he wasn’t you would’ve taken care of him and his attitude already.

you weren’t shy to make this opinion known, even straight to his face. all your classmates seemed to understand and even agree, everyone except for gojo of course, who always persisted that he is the ‘best person ever’ and that ‘nobody can hate him’. your friend utahime seemed to really enjoy listening to your long, harsh rants about him, reminding you that your not alone in your detest for gojo.

Today you had what seemed to be a start to a good morning, until you were informed you had a mission to attend to the very next day. that news alone obviously wasn’t enough to ruin your mood, you had missions all the time, it was normal. this mission however was not only a special grade curse, but it was also assigned to just you and gojo.

“man, that sucks..” shoko sighs, patting your shoulder. after explaining and ranting about your situation you felt a bit better, but still didn’t change the fact that you’d be out overnight, possibly for two nights, alone on a mission with gojo. you groan in frustration just at the thought. “don’t you ever think you’re being a bit hard on him, y/n?” his best friend piped up. he just happened to be passing by and eavesdropping on your conversation. “well of course you’d defend him.” you roll your eyes as suguru laughs.

to be completely fair, maybe you were a bit harsh when it came to gojo. but that didn’t matter to you when all he does is put his face in your business 24/7, attempting to flirt while simultaneously pushing your buttons whenever he gets the chance and only laying off when you get annoyed enough to actually scare him away. “i wouldn’t have to hate him so much if he wasn’t so annoying.” you shrug, feeling completely justified in every word you’ve said. suguru nods understandingly as he considers your words. he does know that gojo can most certainly be a handful.

the day of the mission arrives and you’re up early, getting ready and packing your bag to set out on the mission. with your extra time you decide to keep yourself calm by reading a book you’ve had on your to-read list for waaayyy too long. it was nice until you realized gojo was late, then you were back in your grumpy mood waiting on him. “hi y/n!! are you ready for our honeymoon together??” gojo waves enthusiastically, his loud voice was already starting to irritate you, along with him unapologetically showing up an hour after the established meeting time. “you’re late.”

“i had stuff to do.” gojo frowned, but you know all too well he had absolutely nothing to do. the day is gonna be too long to keep arguing with him, so you decide to be the bigger person for once and begin to make your way to your next destination without saying a word to him. “wooow! you’re not even gonna say anything to me?? i’m so hurt!!” gojo whines behind you, already managing to piss you off at the beginning of your mission.

the place you were headed to was a building that was rumored to be haunted. supposedly it had been involved in a lot of accidents in the area. people last being seen near the house before going missing, car accidents in the area, reported “weird activity” inside the house. it was enough to have the curse inside deemed a special grade, which meant the two of you needed to focus on this mission and you know gojo isn’t gonna do that.

after a long ass train ride that felt like it was gonna go on forever because of gojos endless talking, the two of you made it to the house. it was much older than all other houses on the street and was visibly abandoned and overgrown. the immense amount of cursed energy coming from inside was a bit intimidating, even for you, and made you a bit tense, which did not go unnoticed. “you really scared of some little house?” gojo teased, which took you out of your train of thought. “obviously i’m not scared. i’ve dealt with worse.” you lied through your teeth. of course you’re not gonna reveal that you’re actually trembling in your boots.

“that things no match for me! since you’re soooo scared, why don’t you sit this one out and let me take care of it, princess? i'd hate to see your pretty face get hurt,” truth is, gojo can tell just as well as you can that this curse was no joke. he knows you’re powerful and could probably handle something like this on your own but he doesn’t wanna risk it. seeing you get messed up by a curse while he’s there to protect you, he’d never forgive himself! “no thanks.” you reply dryly, walking up to the house and heading inside.

the presence of the curse inhabiting that house was just as, if not even more intense than it was from the outside and honestly unlike anything you’d dealt with at that point, which is probably why it was able to catch you off guard. you hadn’t even been able to get a glimpse of it before it had you on the floor, across the room and unconscious.

waking up, it felt like you had been asleep for decades. at first you were happy to be in your bed, until you realized it wasn’t your bed. your head hurt like hell, it felt like your brain was too big for your skull and wanted to break free. the lights in the room blaring in your eyes didn’t help. you tried to sit up, suddenly feeling waves of pain along your weakened body. when you were able to sit up, the one person you were hoping not to see was looking out the window and had been alerted by the sound of bedsheets shuffling.

“hi y/n!!!” he yells excitedly, getting up and bringing his chair to sit beside you. “i totally saved your ass! that cursed fucked you up bad!” gojo laughs at you. under normal circumstances you wouldn’t be amused by his antics, but especially now it was even more upsetting. for one, you were embarrassed. the man you hate most watched you get absolutely folded by some random ass curse. and on top of that he had to save you and bring you back afterwards. the realization made your blood run cold and you couldn’t even be bothered to look him in the eyes. you hear him lightly sigh in response to your silence.

The switch in his demeanor was sudden when he can visually see on your face how hurt you are, physically and emotionally. “i know your head probably hurts. i got you some advil.” you finally look up at gojo, before looking down at the bedside table to see a little bottle of advil and a glass of water. “the water had ice in it but.. it melted.” as you graciously take the advil and gulp down the water like you hadn’t drank for days, you think about the amount of time that must’ve passed, evident by the pinkish hue of the sky and the bright orange sunlight shining through the window and onto the floor.

after finishing the glass of water and setting it down you sat in silence, your lightly bandaged arms lying in from of you. you decide to appreciate the silence, as normally gojo would be laughing and teasing to no end. and after a catastrophic mission like this? being knocked cold out for hours? you thought you wouldn’t hear the end of it from him, but surprisingly you hadn’t heard a word. “is the advil working?”

“it hasn’t even been 10 minutes.” you hiss at him, instantly missing the peace and quiet. you take a quick look at gojo, noticing the unusual darkness of his bright blue eyes and the way his hair is somehow messier than it usually is. he almost looks like he’s been through war even though you know that isn’t the case. he probably made light work out of that damn curse. “remember what i said..? about not forgiving myself if i couldnt protect you?”

"you did not say that." you actually look up at him but his gaze is focused on the floor in front of him. “i know you hate me and all but.. i really care for you, y’know? you had me kinda worried.” he somewhat laughs to himself but not the same way he usually does.

“sorry.” is all you can whisper out. “thank you for saving me, though.” as much as you want to be nice to him for saving your life, the way his demeanor changes when your gratefulness strokes his ego makes you regret it. “yeah, i know. i’m awesome. don’t i deserve a reward?” gojos eyes light up again, continuously making you regret being kind to him for once. but at the same time, considering his sweeter words to you, you’ll humor him. “what kinda reward?” you roll your eyes playfully. “hmmmm… i think i deserveee….” gojo pretends to think hard, putting his hand to his chin. “a kiss!!” the slight smile on your face instantly melts, which in turn causes gojo to start pouting and whining like a child. “don’t look at me like that! i saved your life and patched you up and all i’m asking for is a kiss!!”

“i don’t want to kiss you.” gojos jaw drops as he genuinely looks shocked by your blatant statement. “what!? how could you not want to kiss me?! you owe me your life!!” all you can do is sigh and cross your arms, which leads gojo to using a different avenue to convince you. “pleeeaseee baby? one kiss won’t hurt…” the look he gave you can only be described as the same one a sad kitten would give you when they want you to give them food. his face almost makes you feel bad for your mean words since he looks like he’ll genuinely cry if you don’t agree to kiss him. “fine. one kiss. hurry up.” gojos face lights up in a way you’ve never seen before, a big smile across his face as he practically lounges onto the bed beside you. he swiftly places a hand around your waist while the other picks up your legs and places them on his lap. “can you slow down! i said one kiss. not whatever this is.”

“it will be one kiss! or maybe two? i don’t care, i’ve been waiting for this!” before you can say a word, he already has his lips on yours. you couldn’t deny that he was a good kisser. suddenly everything and everyone melted away and it was just the two of you, your hands on his chest and his around your waist. you kinda wanted it to stay like this, in a weird twisted way you never thought you’d feel with a man like gojo.

i think this would make the perfect prequel to a cute fic if anyone wants a pt 2!! js lmk!!

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader

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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months

Text

heat rage

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving oral, fwb, hooking up, mentions of drinking/partying and hooking up while drunk

“topper, will you shut the fuck up?” rafe yells, making topper physically jump, eyes widening as he looks to rafe.

“i didn’t even say anything.” topper argues back, his voice almost sounding whiny.

“and yet you’re still being too fucking loud!” rafe growls, looking like he's seconds away from standing up and hitting topper across the face.

“alright, come on.” you stand, gesturing to rafe to join you.

“what?” he grunts out, the heat and stress of the day clearly having gone to his head, making him frustrated and angry for no reason, ready to lash out at anyone.

“you're being a dick because you're all upset.” you say, reaching your hand out for rafe to take, but he just swats it away.

“im fine.”

“fine.” you shrug, turning away from the boys and walking towards the stairs. “i guess you don't want me to give you head.”

rafe is scrambling off the couch to follow you up the stairs towards his bedroom, eyes on your ass as you make your way up each step.

“you're gonna be more relaxed after this right?” you question as rafe closes and locks his door behind you. “because if you're just gonna be an asshole all day im going home.”

“yeah, promise.” rafe nods, leaning forward to press a smearing kiss across your lips. his version of a thank you, since the words will never actually leave his lips.

you're not a couple, but you don't exactly just hook up either. you guess it would be defined as friends with benefits. rafe often says you're the one girl he can actually stand to hang out with, and it certainly helps that you often end up hooking up after parties where you drink a little too much.

rafe places a hand on your shoulder, shoving you down to your knees, indicating just how needy he is for your mouth.

you smirk when you realize he's tenting in his shorts, having grown hard in just minutes. you tug at the two sides of his pants, opening them to reveal his boxers.

“come on.” rafe grunts impatiently.

“rafe, you said you'd be nice!”

“after you give me head i will be! come on, i need it.” rafe pushes his pants and underwear down his hips in one swift motion, his cock popping up from its confines.

you place your hand around the base to hold it steady as your lips and tongue tease over the head, kissing and licking as rafe moans. you wonder if topper is able to hear his sounds as you sink down on his cock, allowing it to fill you mouth.

“fuck, we should do this sober more often.” rafe tangles his hands in your hair, helping guide your motions up and down.

you're determined to make this good and memorable, not just because rafe is pissed off and needing the relief, but as a reason to continue hooking up without the influence of alcohol or drugs in your system, wanting to experience rafe fucking into you without being sloppy drunk.

you force rafes length down into your throat as you bob your head, his hands tightening and loosing in your hair like he keeps losing control only to quickly regain it.

“god, that's fucking good.” rafe moans out, his voice low and when you look up to his face you aren't surprised to find his eyes closed, face one of bliss.

you place both your hands on his thighs, giving yourself a good base as you use your whole body to move off and on his cock, truly getting into the motions.

“damn.” rafe curses. hes inclined to let you do all the work, but he's too into the way it feels that he can't help but begin to thrust his hips forward and back.

you feel yourself choking around his cock and try to hold back the gagging noises as he rams into your throat, but you can't hold them back for long.

the noises don't deter rafe, only spur him on more, his hips pumping faster as you feel his cock swelling in your mouth, the telltale sign of his imminent release.

you try to suck, rub your tongue against the underside of his cock, or give some sort of extra stimulation, but ultimately you end up letting rafe fuck into your face, mouth ajar and wet for him, drool dripping down your chin.

“fuck, cumming.” is all rafe can get out before his cum is spurting down your throat in long ropes that you're eager to swallow.

you pull off the second he's finished, taking deep breaths intermixed with coughing you wish you could control, not wanting to seem like you couldn't handle it.

“you good?” rafe asks, attempting to fix your hair by smoothing his hands over the curls he was gripping tightly into.

“yeah.” you nod quickly. “just get me a drink of water.”

you move from your knees onto the bed, breathing deeply as rafe puts his bottoms back on before heading into the bathroom, coming back with a cup of water for you.

“thanks.” you mumble, taking it from him and gulping it down.

“no, thank you.” rafe says, leaning down and in a moment of rare softness pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“we should get back down to topper.” you say, wiping your mouth and taking one last drink.

“shit, kinda forgot he was here.” rafe laughs, helping you stand before walking down the stairs with you, back into the living room where you flop onto the armchair, stretching yourself out and giving your knees much needed relief.

“damn, if i knew all i had to do was get all pissy to have my dick sucked i would have been an asshole this whole time.” topper chuckles, meaning it as a joke, but rafes relieved calm face quickly turns back to one of anger as he growls out.

“oh god.” you drop your face into your hands, all your hard work undone with one sentence from topper.

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atlabeth · 1 year

Text

leave the door open - anthony lockwood

summary: no matter what happens, there's always the light underneath the door. the sign that, when you're ready, he'll let you back in with open arms.

a/n: obviously inspired by leave the door open by silk sonic because i could (and have) listen to it on repeat for hours. this spiraled way out of control but im honestly really happy with it and i hope you all are too!

wc: 8.2k

warning(s): mild angst, arguing, hurt/comfort, mildly serious injury, short scene with a gun/gunshot wound, but the whole first half of the fic is fluff and it is all wrapped up w a fluffy ending

127.

128.

129.

13–

Your focus was broken as police sirens blared past your window, and you let out a long-lasting sigh. This was the fifth time your count had been interrupted, and you weren’t starting over again.

Trying to sleep was a fruitless endeavor at this point, and that wasn’t going to change no matter how many notches in the wall you counted—you might as well accept it.

You’d never been much for sleeping through the night, but your new home boded worse for it all. A new room, a new house, a new city, a new agency. Being in the thick of it all after what felt like so long on your own was overwhelming, and it still felt like it could all fall apart. Being given the job all because you passed a few tests in the living room didn’t exactly feel like security.

You sighed as you slipped on a sweatshirt and walked out of the attic— your room, at least for now— carefully moving down the steps in an effort to not make much noise.

35 Portland Row was filled with warmth, that much was obvious from your short time here, but that warmth had not yet penetrated your skin. It was all too foreign.

You meant to go to the kitchen and make a midnight cup of tea, but your eyes were drawn to a slightly open door, light spilling out in the cracks. The library, if you remembered correctly from Lockwood’s tour.

It must have been George. You didn’t know much about him, but the way Lockwood described him certainly made him seem like the type to be up pouring over books until the early hours of the morning.

It wouldn’t hurt to say hi. Let him know that they’d added another restless soul into their agency.

You pushed the door open a bit more, knocking on the wall as you leaned against the door frame, and your eyebrows rose slightly when the boy looked up.

“Lockwood,” you said, tamping down on your surprise.

He said your name with a slight smile and a bow of his head. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You nodded. “Have you got room for one more?”

“Always,” he said with a gesture at the seat across from him.

You closed the door behind you and took the offered chair, glancing down at the papers in front of him. “What’s got you up?”

“Bills,” he said dryly. “The mortgage, the utilities, our certification, and now—” he looked at you— “another agent on the payroll.”

“I’ll be sure to try and bring in more than you spend on me,” you said, and he smiled as he set his pen down.

“How thoughtful.” Lockwood laced his fingers together before he leveled his gaze fully at you. “And what’s got you up?”

“Just what I said,” you answered with a shrug. “I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t gotten used to this place yet.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t take too long, because you’re going to hit the ground running,” Lockwood said. “We’ve got a meeting tomorrow with a client, and if all goes well we’ll be having tea with a Visitor by noon.”

“Honestly, that would make me feel like I fit in more,” you said. “I’m much better with the ‘nearly dying’ part of this job than the settling in part.”

He cracked a small smile. “I’m hoping we’ll avoid that part, especially with your help.”

Your eyebrows rose. “You’ve got that much faith in me?”

“I assumed you knew the amount of faith I have in you when I hired you,” Lockwood joked. “Your Touch is just what we’ve been missing.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me,” you said. “There’s always uncertainty about freelance agents because we work on our own, but I promise I’ll try my best to merge back into a group.”

“Like I said,” Lockwood’s eyes twinkled, “I’ve got full faith in you.”

You chuckled and nodded, and you tapped the desk before you stood up. “I’ll leave you to your devices. Thank you for the talk, Lockwood.”

“Try and get some sleep,” Lockwood said. “After all, tomorrow is when you prove yourself.”

“Ah,” you said sagely. “Tomorrow will determine whether I have a job or I’m back on the streets.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he said, and he looked wholly genuine. “You’re part of Lockwood & Co now, and we take care of our own.”

You nodded, your lips quirking into a small smile. It had been a long time since someone had so clearly said to you that they would watch out for you— that they saw you as more than just your Touch.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Lockwood nodded, his expression turning slightly wry. “Besides, the only real reason I think I’d fire you is if you got us all killed.”

“You can’t fire me if we’re all dead.”

“I suppose that means you’re thoroughly employed,” Lockwood said with a smile.

You chuckled. “Good to know.”

“Truly, though, try and get some sleep.” He picked up his pen again, clicking it a few times. “We might be London’s smallest agency, but we take cases the likes of Fittes would handle.”

“As long as you try and get some too,” you said.

Lockwood smiled, but there was a notable absence of a promise. “Goodnight.”

“Are you always in the library?” you asked suddenly. “Because I— I find myself awake a lot at night. It would be nice to know when you’re open to chat and when you just want to be alone.”

He nodded. “I’ll leave the door open for you. Just like tonight.”

You stared at him for a moment more, taking in his slightly ruffled hair, his undone tie and rolled up sleeves. The dark circles under his eyes.

“Perfect,” you responded softly. “Goodnight, Lockwood.”

"Goodnight," he repeated, that same small smile on his lips.

You closed the door behind you.

You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

It was another two weeks until your next sleepless night.

Kept busy with countless cases, you were exhausted near every time you stumbled back through the doors of Portland Row. Part of it was from adjusting back into an agency after being on your own for so long, the other part was the seriously intense jobs that Lockwood kept taking.

And you did adjust, that was true.

You didn’t know if you and George were exactly friends, but he allowed you to help when he cleaned up in the kitchen, and you’d already spent a few afternoons in the archives together—today had been the best, him sharing all the material he found with you and willing to listen to your theories and look at your notes. He was warming up to you, at least.

Lockwood was completely different. He exuded charm, all easy smiles and plying words meant to get someone’s guard down. It was how he operated, how he had to live—everyone underestimated him so he took it upon himself to prove everyone wrong. His name was on the door, after all, as he liked to remind you all.

Maybe that was why he was always up, you thought, because as you slowly moved down the stairs, rubbing grogginess out of your eyes, you noticed that the light was on in the library again. Door slightly cracked open.

You huffed a laugh before you knocked on the frame again, pushing it open to see Lockwood in almost the exact same position as last time. Instead of a variety of papers, though, he was hunched over a map.

He said your name, a small smile already pulling at his lips. “So we meet again.”

“We live in the same house,” you said wryly, “and we work together.”

“All the more reason to be thankful that you put up with me past billing hours,” Lockwood said. You chuckled, and he gestured at the chair across from him. “Take a seat.”

You did, and you tapped your fingers on the table before you took a look at the map. “What’s got you up so late?”

“I’m scouting out a potential job,” he said. “A very old, very haunted mansion owned by a very rich family.”

“I like the sound of that,” you mused.

“So do I.” That spark was in his eye again, and you found yourself watching him as he talked. “The patriarch called me last night, and I met with him and his wife while you and George were at the archives today. He offered the job of clearing his ancestral home, and I told him I would get back to him after I consulted my colleagues.”

“Colleagues,” you hummed. “I like the sound of that too.”

Lockwood chuckled. “I thought after freelancing for so long you would be against working so closely with a team.”

You shrugged. “I needed a change. You lot have been a pretty good one.”

“It’s certainly an honor,” Lockwood said with mock austerity, and you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“Just get on with it, Lockwood.”

He nodded, and he pushed the map over to you. “I was going to lay it all out for you two tomorrow morning, but since you’re here, I might as well get your opinion on it.”

You took a moment to fully examine it. “Well, it’s certainly very big.” You glanced back up at Lockwood. “How much are they willing to pay?”

He smiled. “Fifty thousand pounds.”

Your eyes about burst out of your head, and you slid the map back over to him. “That’s all I need to hear. I’m in.”

Lockwood laughed and he took it back from you. “You don’t even know anything else about it. You could be walking into a death trap.”

“Every job I did on my own was a possible death trap, and none of them were for fifty thousand pounds,” you said. “I’m in—I don’t care if half of England is haunting that house.”

His smile faded a bit, and he cleared his throat as he looked you in the eye. “You know, you haven't talked much about why you were a freelance agent. Even during the interview.”

Your brows furrowed at the sudden question and you shrugged. “I wanted to be.”

“Everyone knows it’s a lot more dangerous than being in an agency,” Lockwood said. “Ghosts are hard enough to deal with in a group— going on your own is asking for trouble.”

“Before I came in, it was just you and George,” you countered. “You’ve got no supervisors, just the two of you hoping for the best. I’d say that’s asking for trouble.”

“You’re deflecting,” Lockwood said.

You glanced away, finally letting out a sigh as you leaned back in your chair.

“You don’t have to—”

“Because from the moment I discovered my Talent, I’ve heard horror stories from agencies. Entire teams going down on doomed missions, sole survivors left to live with the guilt for the rest of their lives. It happened to one of the teams in my agency, and I knew I wasn’t going to wait for it to happen to me.”

Lockwood’s eyes softened, and he stayed silent as you continued.

“I have no team, I have no roommates—when I’m on my own, no one has to worry about me,” you said quietly. “If something goes wrong, and I die, that’s it. No guilt, no problems, no legal trouble. No mourners.”

Lockwood frowned. “That’s not a very good way to look at it.”

“Never said it was,” you said wryly. “It’s just the way I look at it.”

“Your family would care.”

You shook your head. “They wouldn’t.”

He was silent for a good moment, and then he reached over and took your hand. It was a shock at first, your eyes widening slightly as they darted up to meet his, but he was calm as ever.

“You’ve got us now,” he said. “Lockwood & Co. Me and George. And we’d care very much if you were to die, so I’d appreciate it if you refrained from that.”

That got a watery laugh out of you, and you felt the beginnings of tears behind your eyes for some reason. “I don’t think that was in my contract.”

“It was in the fine print,” Lockwood assured. He looked so much younger when he smiled, like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“That changes everything then.” Your voice was slightly stilted as you pulled away, and you turned slightly as you wiped at your eyes so he couldn’t see. If Lockwood noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Try and get some sleep,” he murmured. “If George is on board, we’ve got a very long day tomorrow.”

You nodded, clearing your throat as you stood up. “You too. Can’t go into battle without our fearless leader.”

He chuckled and nodded, his eyes never leaving you as you walked to the door. You paused, setting your hand on the frame, and turned around.

“Thank you, Lockwood,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I mean it.”

He smiled, and you found yourself lost in it for a moment. He really was beautiful. “Any time.”

And so your days continued on as a certified member of Lockwood & Co, becoming more integrated by the hour.

It wasn’t much longer before George took to you, and when you found a break in a case that saved you hours of potential digging through the archives, your spot as ‘respected colleague and potential friend’ was cemented.

Lockwood already knew more about you than most, putting him in the ‘weird friend, weird boss’ category. The man literally never slept, and all the information he knew about you was willingly given to him through late night vulnerability. You needed to start forcing yourself to stay in bed, if not solely to keep some secrets between you.

But— yeah, he was nice. Easy to joke around with, easy to work with, easy on the eyes. You’d smiled and laughed more in a single month at Portland Row than you had in three years as a freelance agent. Far better than the lonely studio apartment you holed up in between cases.

The warmth was beginning to penetrate your skin, you thought with a slight smile.

“What in the world are you doing?”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a voice. You looked up from the baking sheet to see Lockwood waiting in the doorway with a small smile.

“Stress baking,” you said with a slight chuckle as you continued scooping dough onto the tray.

“At two in the morning?”

You shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and extra research wasn’t doing me any good. I had to get the nerves out somehow, and unless I fancied a nice bout with a Visitor, I couldn’t exactly go for a run.”

“So you decided on cookies instead,” he said wryly. “You know, you really should try and get more sleep.”

“Says you.” You finished filling up the tray and you picked it up, glancing at Lockwood as you walked over to the oven. “Every night that I’m up, you’re up too. That’s got to be unhealthy.”

“I’m a busy man,” he responded. “I can’t have half of my employees running around sleep deprived.”

You chuckled. “Good to know you care.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Always.”

“But you have to care about yourself, too.” You shut the oven and set a timer on your watch, then gestured at the counter where an already finished tray sat. “Try one.”

“Sugar so close to bed?” he joked.

“Oh, please,” you brushed your hand through the air, “we both know you’re not falling asleep any time soon.”

Lockwood cracked a smile as he walked over, picking up a cookie from the sheet. “Chocolate chip?”

“The best,” you confirmed.

He took a bite and he hummed as his eyebrows rose. “Surprisingly good,” he said after he swallowed.

“‘Surprisingly’?” you repeated. “Why can’t they just be normally good?”

“You may have noticed, but George is our resident chef.” Lockwood finished the rest of the cookie, much to your silent delight, and he went to the fridge. “I’m just surprised we’ve got two culinary experts on the team now.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “I’m not anywhere near an expert. I’m much better at baking than cooking, so George has that market cornered.”

Lockwood smiled, and he finished his cup of water. “He’ll be happy to know that. He’d probably love to share some of his recipes with you.”

“I’d love that more,” you said. “His halva the other day was incredible.”

“I’ll let him know. Of course,” his eyes twinkled, “he’d probably be more flattered if you told him yourself. If there’s one thing he’s prouder of than his work in the archives, it’s his work in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be sure to,” you agreed.

“Are you going to sleep anytime soon?” Lockwood asked as usual.

As usual, you rolled your eyes, bit back your smile. “I’ve got two more trays worth of dough. I promise I’ll go after they’re done.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Do you also promise to leave some for us?”

You laughed. “Of course. I didn’t make them just for stress relief, you know.”

“Good,” Lockwood repeated. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. The later morning, rather.”

“You get some sleep too,” you said, pointing your spatula at him, “or else all of these are going to George.”

He placed his fist over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Good. Now get out of here.”

Lockwood chuckled as he walked out, spurring a smile of your own. You picked up a cookie and took a bite, humming in approval at the taste.

“Normally good,” you murmured to yourself as you watched the oven. “Not surprisingly good.”

(When Lockwood came down the next morning, there were two plates of cookies sitting on the counter. He moved to take one, but then he noticed the Post-its.

One read GEORGE and one read LOCKWOOD, each in front of their own separate plates. There was another at the top—NO STEALING :) or I will never make cookies again

He chuckled, his mind wandering to you as he finally took one—from his plate, of course—and bit into it.

Normally good, he thought with a slight smile.

A fine addition to the team indeed.)

You yawned as you walked down the hallway, rubbing at your groggy eyes. You couldn’t sleep, as was per usual when you were working on such a big case, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

Your mind ran a thousand kilometers a minute any time you even tried to close your eyes. Truly, you had no idea how George functioned with a brain like his.

You were about to go into the kitchen to make yourself your usual midnight cup of tea, hoping it would work its usual magic, when you saw the door to the library cracked open.

You couldn’t help but smile. He’d told you and George to go to bed early to make sure you were all ready for the job the next day, and here he was. Restless as ever and still a liar.

You pushed the door the rest of the way open, blinking a bit at the lights as you leaned against the frame. “Up late again, Lockwood?” you asked, and he started when he turned to you and said your name.

“You should be asleep,” he said.

“So should you.”

“I’m looking over the floorplans one last time,” Lockwood said. “This place is huge, and I want to make sure I know every part of it.”

“We’ve drilled the exits a thousand times,” you said. “We already know the mansion inside out—cramming at midnight isn’t going to help anyone. Actually being rested for once will.”

Lockwood gave you a wry look. “Awfully strong words coming from you.”

“I was going to the kitchen to make some tea,” you defended. “And then I was going to go right back to sleep.”

He smiled as he looked at you, and then he nodded and stood up. “Alright. Come on.”

You raised your eyebrows as Lockwood started walking, and then he took your hand and started pulling you along.

“Oh my god,” you said with a laugh, “I can walk on my own.”

All he said was, “I know,” in that annoyingly cocky tone of his, and you continued following him as you went up the stairs. When he pulled open the door of his room, you

“Neither of us are very good at staying asleep,” Lockwood said wryly, “and I really don’t trust you to get enough in the face of tomorrow. So…”

“You think sleeping in the same bed will help,” you surmised.

He shrugged. “At the very least, I’ll be able to make sure you do fall asleep.”

“Then the same goes for you.”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him for a moment. You didn’t exactly… know what to do.

The words rushed out of his mouth. “Of course if you don’t want to—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “No, it’s alright. I want to.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Alright.”

You pulled back the covers, clearing your throat as you took your side and Lockwood took his after turning the lamp off. You didn’t know why this was so awkward, sharing a bed with the boy you’d worked with for the past few months, but it was. You’d faced down countless ghosts together, but this was apparently too much.

“Your bed’s comfortable,” you said, desperate to break the silence. You stared at his wall, your back turned to him, Lockwood in the same position.

“Thanks.”

“I don’t know how you’re ever not sleeping through the night with a mattress like this.”

Lockwood chuckled. “Sight isn’t my only talent.”

You smiled. “Very true.”

“Why are you always up?” he asked. “I know my old bed isn’t the most comfortable, but it seems you’re always up.”

“It seems you’re always up.”

“Deflecting,” he said. Your mind flashed back to the first night in the library.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I’ve always been a restless person, but being an agent has just… worsened it. I had a couple of bad months working on my own and I don’t think I’ve fully recovered.”

“Ah.” You could feel his breathing in the slight shifts of the bed, and it was oddly comforting. “I hope that we haven’t made it worse.”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “If anything, you’ve made it better. Portland Row is the embodiment of warmth, and you two are fantastic.”

“Well, we aren’t going anywhere,” Lockwood assured. “...I’m not going anywhere. So if you ever need anything, please tell us.”

Your voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

Your sleepless nights varied in frequency as the months went on.

Sometimes you were so exhausted when you staggered through the doors of Portland Row that you felt as if you could sleep the night away on the couch. Other times, despite being worked to the bone from a difficult job, you would find yourself staring up at the ceiling of your room, unable to get the visions from the day out of your head.

That was the lovely thing about Touch. The way you saw it, you gave a small part of yourself over each time you used it, and once you got it back, the things you’d seen were embedded in it—in you. It was awfully difficult to separate yourself from your jobs when you threw yourself so fully into it, when you had no other choice but to do so.

Lockwood and George had become accustomed to how deep you felt things. When you needed to be alone after a job, when you needed one of them to talk nonstop to keep you distracted, when you just needed to sit with them in silence and be assured that this too would pass, no matter how slow. That was the nicest thing about being part of the group—you didn’t have to lick your wounds on your own.

When it got really bad—and sometimes it did—you and Lockwood would share his room. His presence was unparalleled in bringing you comfort, and whispered conversations in the dark made you feel some sort of way. He was practically your savior.

When he wasn’t helping you through the night, more often than not, Lockwood would be up at the same hour as you. It was concerning, though you couldn’t say anything about it. He would just throw it back at you, claiming you should be asleep as well. At least George was exempt from the criticism. Bless him.

He found you in a lot of positions. Sitting on the floor of the kitchen scrubbing furiously at the plasm stains on your boots. Sitting on the floor of their living room, one of their case files in your lap as you recounted a previous case. Sitting on the floor of the basement, measuring out salt for bombs and ensuring their flares were stocked. You liked sitting on the floor while you did things, apparently—Lockwood had figured that out after a few weeks of sleepless nights. It was strange.

And of course, the occasional bout of stress baking, ranging from cookies to brownies to pastries and more. You once even baked an entire cake in the middle of the night out of pure anger, the result of a frustrating loss to a Fittes team. Not getting the case hurt a little bit less the next morning when you all had cake to dull the pain.

You found him just as many times. Sometimes getting his own cups of tea in the kitchen, sometimes reading those gossip magazines he was fond of, sometimes doing his own restocks of your supplies. Usually, though, he was just sitting in the library stressed over one thing or another.

You noticed he always tried to hide it from you, covering it with his easy smiles and well-placed jokes. It couldn’t be easy to run an agency as a teenager, no matter how small—you wondered how many restless evenings you would have to share together for him to drop the mask.

Eventually, though, it was decided that another agent was needed. Lockwood and his Sight, you and your Touch, George as an all-arounder—he was your only source for Listening, but it had never been his strong suit. After you nearly got ghost-touched because of that blatant lack of Listening, Lockwood put his foot down and put out an ad.

Enter one Lucy Carlyle: excellent Listener, skilled in Touch, a myriad of opinions. You liked her the moment you met her, her image only sullied by her taking two biscuits. You could hardly blame her though, the way George pushed her. He loved to push.

Due to a lack of rooms but an imminent need for Talent, it was decided that Lucy would room in the attic with you. You were able to get one of the spare beds all the way up to the attic between the four of you, and when you all promptly collapsed on the ground together, it was agreed upon that Lockwood & Company would stick to ghosts. Very good for team bonding, though.

It took Lucy a bit to get used to you, especially in such close quarters, but soon enough you were joking around and talking like you’d known each other for years. You knew she was good, but witnessing her listening was awe-inspiring. You almost couldn’t believe you’d gotten her over Fittes or Atkinson and Armstrong, but you weren’t going to complain. You felt as if your motley crew could do anything.

“I can’t believe he did this,” you seethed.

Well, there were certain things your motley crew did not need to do. Especially your leader.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that,” Lucy said.

“I can’t believe he did this!” you repeated, louder and more annoyed as you threw yourself against the wall. “How stupid can one boy be?”

“He was trying to save you, y’know,” Lucy said dryly.

“I didn’t need to be saved,” you grumbled. “He did it because he’s reckless and stupid.”

“...That’s fair,” Lucy said after a moment. “He is quite reckless.”

“Don’t forget stupid.”

Her lips twitched for a moment. “Perhaps you shouldn’t speak ill of the injured.”

“That’s just the dead,” you muttered. “And we speak plenty of ill of them.”

This was all because of a job that went wrong. And you were certain it wouldn’t have gone wrong if Lockwood could hold himself back for a moment.

“Are you sure that’s him?” you murmured, disguising your words with your cup of sparkling cider.

“Positive,” Lockwood confirmed. “Arthur Torres, one of Sunrise Corporation’s many useless executives.”

“Lovely.” You finished your drink. “I distract and you steal, right?”

“Actually,” Lockwood said, and you didn’t like that at all, “you steal, I distract.”

Your brows furrowed. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“I make the plans,” he said, “I can change them.”

“Not when we spend hours going over them to ensure they’re flawless,” you said tartly.

“Relax.” He smiled at you, and somehow it managed to carve through your irritation. He slipped the keycard out of his pocket and pressed it into your hand. “I’m very good at improvising.”

“Lockw—” You didn’t have the chance to chastise him the way he deserved before he slipped off, a very convenient waiter filling the space he left before you could dart after him. You scoffed as you placed your empty glass on their tray, your eyes narrowed as you glared at Lockwood from beyond.

He paid no attention to you, not until he made the signal. He ‘accidentally’ bumped into Mr. Torres, spilling his wine all over his jacket, and before the first apology could fall from his lips, you were gone.

You muttered curses under your breath the entire way, slipping past guards and security the best you could on the way to the stairwell. You took them two at a time as you hurried to the fourth floor, and though you were completely out of breath by the time you made it, you were pleased that there were no guards. George said he would have the security cameras disabled before you got there, so you just had to trust in him.

You continued to take in and let out deep breaths as you walked up to the door, and they turned into a sigh of relief when you scanned the keycard and it opened. You heard footsteps behind you and whirled around, your hand flying on instinct for the rapier that wasn’t there, and your eyes widened yet again when you saw it was Lockwood.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you hissed.

He held up his hands in defense, as he stopped jogging, and then he brushed out the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “I came to help you.”

“You’re meant to be distracting Mr. Torres,” you said incredulously. “Lockwood, do you even care for the sanctity of plans?”

“I care about your safety,” he said, calm in the face of your anger. “That’s why I’m here.”

“And where is he? Hopefully not in reach of his various guards that could ruin us and our careers at any second.”

“I left him in the washroom,” Lockwood said. “How are you doing?”

You set your jaw, and you sighed as you gestured with your head into the now-open office. “Let’s just find this source so we can get out of here.”

Now came the not-so-legal part, that some may even call theft. Lockwood called it discreetly fixing mistakes, you called it your shoddy morals. Not that you were torn up about stealing from an executive businessman, you just didn’t particularly fancy losing your license over it.

A rich family had hired Lockwood & Co to find and return a source that was important to their family, and of course it was housed by Mr. Torres of the Sunrise Corporation. You’d no idea what it was with wealthy people and their flaunting of sources, but you’d had enough of it. They paid handsomely for the risk though, hence your shoddy morals.

This, honestly, was the easy part. You touched a few things, concentrated until your head hurt, and it led you right to it. Quite disappointing—you didn’t know why the Paladinos would keep a paperweight in the family, and more importantly how it came about to be a source, but that didn’t really matter. It sat on Torres’s desk, surrounded by Sunrise Corporation silver-glass, and just for extra measure Lockwood put it into a metal box of your own. You shoved it into your backpack, and the job was halfway done.

The other half was getting out without being spotted.

The two of you worked quickly to erase all traces of your being there, and soon enough you were hurrying through the halls together.

“That was good work.”

You ignored him.

“The Paladinos’ money will do a lot of good for us.”

You ignored him.

“Seriously. You work well on the fly.”

“We shouldn’t have had to work on the fly,” you finally said bitterly.

“Why are you so mad?” Lockwood asked with a slight laugh. God, his nerve. “It all worked out. We’ve got the source, we’ll get the payment, and we didn’t even have to deal with any Visitors. Torres is still clueless.”

“That’s not the point, Lockwood,” you hissed. You forced your expression back into neutrality as you walked out of the stairwell and back into the midst of the party, and you and Lockwood moved at a normal pace. He offered occasional smiles and nods to people in the crowd, and you both nodded at the guards at the exit when you left.

You couldn’t even relish in your victory, because once you’d gotten out of hearing distance, around the corner where no guards or partygoers could see or hear you, Lockwood stopped you.

“What is the point then?” he asked. “If none of what I said is the point, then what is the point?”

“The point is that you don’t trust me!” you exclaimed.

He immediately frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you even follow me in the first place?” you asked. “It was your decision to switch it up at the last moment, and you couldn’t even follow through with that?”

Lockwood didn’t say anything, and you shook your head.

“You don’t trust me,” you repeated quietly.

He said your name then, a slightly wild look in his eyes as he turned to you. “That’s not it.”

“It is.” A muscle worked in your jaw. “Because if you thought I could do it, you would have let me do it instead of risking both of our lives. You wouldn’t have switched our roles in the first place.”

“Torres was suspicious,” he insisted. “He— he was saying things, talking about how he had to make his guards check on his office. He’s a paranoid man, and you could have been in much more danger if I hadn’t abandoned him.”

“That is bullshit!” you exclaimed. “God, it was your bloody idea in the first place! Is it suddenly not good enough? Am I not good enough?”

“That is not what this is about,” Lockwood snapped.

“Then what is it about?” you marveled. “Why did you switch roles in the first place? You’ve told me I could talk my way out of anything, but when the time comes, you shake things up for no reason. For no reason, Lockwood.”

“People know my face better than they know yours,” Lockwood said. “Torres was more willing to talk with the head of a rising agency, you were able to slip around easier because of who you are.”

“Why didn’t you think of that before we were in the thick of it all?” you asked incredulously, and you laughed. “I’ve saved your life multiple times, Lockwood, and you’ve done the same for me. You talk me up all the time to my face, saying I’m what this agency was missing, that I’m part of your family, that— that you’ll never let me go. But that’s all it is, isn’t it?” A shaky smile formed for just a moment before it broke. “Just talk.”

Lockwood said your name desperately, but you shook your head. “No. Justify it however you want, but you nearly sabotaged the entire job just because you didn’t have enough faith in me. That’s it.”

“I’m telling you, that’s not it.” He let out a ragged sigh, running a distressed hand through his hair, when he suddenly froze.

“Good evening, sir!” he called, confident as ever, like your argument hadn’t just happened. “We’re just—”

His voice broke off mid sentence, and then he yelled your name. You whirled around.

It was a guard, and he was armed. He must have spotted you when you were leaving the office, or maybe George had missed a camera and he’d seen your thievery—there were about a thousand things that could have gone wrong. For a split second, you stared down the barrel of the gun. Funny how you’d stared down what felt like hundreds of ghosts, and a bit of metal was what had you frozen.

The guard pulled the trigger.

Lockwood lunged.

You screamed.

“He’s lucky DEPRAC didn’t find the source in my bag,” you muttered. “They already interrogated me to hell and back while he was in the hospital. Luckily, it usually doesn’t look too good when an adult shoots a teenager and can hardly defend himself against it.”

“The bloke deserved to be fired,” Lucy said. “A paperweight is certainly not worth shooting someone over.”

“And it’s certainly not worth getting shot for,” you added.

“It’s kind of funny,” Lucy said offhandedly. “He’s the one that got shot for you, and yet he’s apologizing to you.”

“Because it’s his fault that he got us in that situation in the first place!” you exclaimed. You winced as your words sunk in, and you looked over at Lucy. “That was too harsh, wasn’t it?”

“...A bit,” she admitted.

You sighed dramatically and hit your head against the side of the wall. “I’m acting like a child.”

“A bit.”

“I just don’t know how he expects me to face him,” you said. “I’ve been working with him for the better part of a year, and somehow he still doesn’t trust me.”

“I… don’t think that’s it,” Lucy said.

“How could it not be it?” you said. “He wouldn’t have acted like he did if he trusted me.”

She shrugged. “Have you thought that it’s because he cares about you?”

“He cares about all of us, Luce.”

“He cares about you more,” she said plainly. “In a different way.”

Your head whipped towards her, and you stared at her for a good five seconds. “You are not saying what I think you’re saying.”

“If you think I’m saying it, it’s for good reason,” she said.

“We are colleagues,” you said slowly. “Nothing less, nothing more.”

Lucy said your name with a slight laugh. “He took a bullet for you.”

“He shuffled our assignments because he didn’t trust me,” you said.

“He shuffled your assignments because he was worried about you,” she countered. “He didn’t want you with Torres because if you were found out, Lockwood didn’t want him to remember your face. And he abandoned his post because he was worried about you, that something would go wrong and he wouldn’t be there to help.”

You stared at her before you continued your pacing. “You’re insane. You’re kicked out of the agency.”

“I’m right,” she said wryly. “And may I remind you again that he took a bloody bullet for you?”

“I’ve already given him that,” you said. “I lost my damn mind when it happened—almost tore the guard apart with my bare hands. I freaked out the entire way to the hospital with him.”

“And now you’re almost completely ignoring him,” Lucy said. “Face it: you like him. You just don’t want to admit it because it would mean having an actual conversation with him about it all rather than pacing a hole in the floor.”

“You’re wrong.” You huffed and leaned back against the wall. “You’re wrong.”

Lucy sighed and she offered a faint smile as she stood up. “You take some time to realize all this. I’m stealing George for an Arif’s run.”

“Leaving us alone,” you said flatly, staring ahead as she walked out. “You’re not clever, Lucy Carlyle!”

“Thank you!” she called with a laugh, and you hit your head against the wall once more when she closed the door behind her.

Sometimes you really hated your friends.

It wasn’t like you were avoiding Lockwood. That would be cruel.

Stupid as he was, he got shot, and he got shot for you. Avoiding him would be ridiculous.

You were just… strategically not talking to him.

And that was arguably worse, yes, letting him see you but not deigning to say a single thing to him that wasn’t business related.

It was even worse than worse because you’d inadvertently proven Lucy right. If this were any normal annoyance between friends, like the squabbles you and George were prone to or the bouts that your boys got into over patience and its virtues, it wouldn’t be this strong.

You’d held grudges against Lockwood before. When he forgot to soak your boots overnight so you had to go into an important job with plasm stains, when he ate the strawberry sprinkled donut just to spite you, when you and George were still in rocky territory and he made you marathon the archives with him for nine hours straight.

All of those, annoying as they were, were forgiven rather quickly. And yes, maybe this grudge was especially strong because of the severity of his injury, but…

You could admit it. Normal people didn’t hold grudges over their best friend throwing themselves in front of them to prevent them from getting shot. Normal people were thankful. Normal people could talk about their feelings when they realized it was the reason for their strife.

You, apparently, were not normal. And neither was anyone in this bloody agency, because nobody deigned to make it any easier for you.

Perhaps it was a bit stupid on your part, but you walked down to the kitchen anyway. You needed some tea to clear your mind. Instead, you were met with a half-shirtless Lockwood.

“Ah,” he said your name, looking up from his spot against the counter, “nice of you to finally grace me with your presence.”

“What are you doing?” you asked. It was almost embarrassing—you were meant to be holding a grudge and ignoring your feelings, and instead you were staring at him like a girl in primary school. Remarkable how quickly you forgot your objectives.

“The doctor said I had to redress my wound every day for the first week,” he said. “Lucy and George just went out, so I figured I would do it now.”

Your brows furrowed. “How do you feel?”

“Better now that you’re here,” he said. Lucy’s words pounded in your ears. “I don’t think you avoiding me is good for my health.”

You bit your lip and remained silent. Rocky territory, this was.

“It’s alright if you just want to stand there.” Lockwood grimaced a bit as he pressed the alcohol-soaked pad to his wound. “Moral support is very helpful.”

Remarkable how quickly the dam broke. You sighed and closed the distance, holding out your hand when you stopped a few meters in front of him. “Give it to me.”

Lockwood’s eyebrows rose.

“Give it to me,” you repeated. “I’ve dealt with many of my own wounds over the years. It’ll be a lot faster if I do it for you.”

His lips quirked into a slight smile as he handed the cloth over. “This is better than moral support.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You couldn’t help the small smile of your own as you started to dab at the surrounding blood on his chest, innately aware of your proximity but trying your best to ignore it. “This doesn’t look too bad, honestly.”

“I was shot,” he said dryly. “I think I deserve a few style points for that.”

“You’ve already earned them all, Lockwood.”

“That makes sense.” You felt his eyes on you as you continued to work, pointedly ignoring his gaze. “You know, they didn’t take the bullet out. Said it would be worse to take it out, and it’s not causing any problems inside. So I’ve got a bullet in me now.”

Your brows furrowed. “Interesting.”

“Indeed. I’ll be going off in airports for the rest of my life.”

Your fingers hovered over his chest for a moment, and you pulled away with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

It was his turn to frown. “What for?”

“For—” you let out another sigh, rougher this time. “For this.”

“It wasn’t your fault I got shot,” he said. “I quite clearly remember pushing you out of the way.”

“I know,” you said. “I— I am quite sorry that you got shot, though.”

“Obviously,” he said coyly, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m sorry for this grudge. It’s probably the stupidest out of all the ones I’ve held against you so far.”

“George keeps a running list,” Lockwood said. “I’m sure we can figure that out.”

“I’m serious.” Your hand lingered on Lockwood’s chest for a moment, his body warmth almost shocking, before you set the cloth down on the counter. You started to put a fresh bandage on, but you finally mustered the strength to look at him. “I was so upset at the thought that you didn’t trust me because your opinion means a lot to me, Lockwood. The way you think of me means a lot to me.” You cleared your throat, averting your eyes for a moment. “You mean a lot to me.”

Lockwood gently tipped your chin back towards him, your eyes meeting his. He really was beautiful—eyes that were softer than ever, his tousled hair, the slope of his jaw. Slightly chapped lips, the bags under his eyes that seemed to be permanent, the weight of the world on his shoulders that seemed to diminish ever so slightly when you were around.

Your Lockwood.

“You mean a lot to me as well,” he said. “Why do you think I reassigned us last minute? Why do you think I took a bullet for you?”

“Because you’re a reckless idiot?”

“Because I panic around you,” he said, “in addition to being a reckless idiot. Whenever we’re on a job, half of my mind is focused on ghosts, and the other half is making sure nothing happens to you. You drive me the best kind of insane.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him. You wanted to kiss him more than anything, to root your hands in that tousled hair and make it an even bigger mess. You wanted to make him realize he didn’t have to worry about you, because you weren’t going anywhere without him.

The words stuck in your throat. You finished applying his bandage, and you took a step away.

“Thank you,” you said.

He didn’t look angry or annoyed or irritated—he understood. He understood you.

“Always.”

And it was as simple as that.

It wasn’t really a surprise you couldn’t sleep that night. You hadn’t exactly talked to Lockwood since your show of emotion in the kitchen, embarrassing as it was. You made Lucy check downstairs before you went down for supper, and that was just so you could make the quickest sandwich of your life and immediately hurry back upstairs.

Pathetic, really. You mustered the strength to tell the boy you liked him, he returned it, you ran off and locked yourself in the attic.

And it wasn’t because it was too much. You just… you didn’t know. You might’ve driven Lockwood insane, but he turned you into a complete idiot. It was ridiculous. And you were not ridiculous.

So when night rolled around, when Lucy and George were sound asleep and the ghost lamps flickered on every three minutes and you had only the owls outside your window for company, you knew what you were going to do.

You threw on your sweatshirt, carefully padded across the floor and out the door so as to not wake Lucy, and you went down the stairs.

Surprisingly, you’d never felt calmer.

The light was on in the library. The door was slightly pushed open, the nondescript act that had turned into a beacon for the two of you.

You knocked on the wall before you pushed the door open some more, not waiting for an answer as you leaned against the doorframe.

Lockwood sat in his armchair, a magazine half open but neglected on his lap. His eyes shined the moment you stepped inside.

“Got room for one more?” you asked softly.

Lockwood’s shoulders relaxed, his throat bobbing for a moment before that damn smile pulled at his lips.

“Always.”

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

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