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imagine-a-dream · 3 years

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They call me devil and you should be afraid.

summary: You owe Joseph Lisgoe money and he comes to collect your dept. This leads to some revelations and things get heated between the two of you. warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, smut, rough sex, degrading, strong language, light choking i guess? requested by: anon and @sandwichthatcomesinahotdogbox word count: 2071A/N: I'm very sorry for such a long absence, my mental health is a rollercoaster sometimes, but i'm back(ish?) on the track, so yay :) It's my first ever time writing smut (bc I got carried away a little lol), so please be gentle with me hehe 😅 Hope you like it! comments and corrections are very welcomed!

You huffed in annoyance. Who the hell was banging at your door at 7 a.m on a Saturday morning? You’ve reached the door and opened it in one swift motion, ready to yell at whatever scumbag that dared to destroy your very earned day off, but found yourself frozen in place. You were not expecting to see his face today, it was too early.

“Lisgoe?” You stuttered in shock, “What the hell are you doing here?”

His head was bowed, but he slowly raised it at the sound of your voice, with a keen gaze from under his eyebrows. His cold blue eyes bore into yours, hungry, and threatening, he looked at you like a lion ready to eat his prey. It sent shivers down your spine against your will. But was it entirely out of fear?

“You owe me money, remember?”

“Of course I remember. I thought your goons would come and…”

“And you can sweet talk your way out of your fucking debt again?” He invited himself in, shutting the door behind him with a loud thud. You met his icy blue eyes and it took all of your strength to not look away.

“These fucking mewling wankers may be charmed by you but believe me, I’m not that fucking stupid. If you don’t give me my fucking money, I will destroy you, you stupid cunt!”

The volume of his voice was rising by the second; with every word he took a step forward, coming at you to finally trap you against the wall, placing his hands on the wall on each side of your face.

In the dim light of your corridor his eyes almost look white, shining with anger and something else you can’t quite place. He’s breathing heavily, his face in the mere inches from yours and it takes all your will to not close the distance. You can smell the coffee on his breath, it tickles your nostrils and lips. Sharp, astringent smell of his cheap Cologne is intoxicating, it mixes with the smell of an aftershave and something that you can only describe as his scent. It makes you lightheaded, almost drunk on the combination of smells. Heck, it's been a while...

You’re sure you should not be turned on by a dangerous criminal screaming at your face, yet here you are, trembling under the heat of his body. Your eyes flicker to his lips and back to his eyes again, you can’t even try to look frightened, not when his anger is turning you on.

You can’t help but let out a breathy chuckle.

“Oh, please, Jo. I have known you for five years now, if you wanted to destroy me, you would already.” And sadly not in the way you want him to.

You push his hand away and start to head towards the kitchen when a pair of strong hands are painfully gripping your shoulders abruptly. He pulls you back to him and slams your front into the wall, one of his palms resting on the back of your neck, his body pressing you further into the cold painted brick.

“Don’t play with the fire, kitten.” He growled lowly.

“Ohh, such a big bad wolf you are,” You huffed sarcastically. “No, sweetie, we both know you only bark but don’t bite.”

You knew that teasing him was not a good idea. Fuck, it was the stupidest idea ever, really, but you just couldn’t help it. “Maybe you have a soft spot for me” You mused and tried to writhe out of his grip, but only ended up pressing your bottom into his crotch.

You’ve heard a breath caught in his throat and froze, bewildered. His grip on your shoulder and neck loosens a bit, but you make no move to free yourself. Then you felt something poking at your left cheek, what is th… oh. Oh.

The realization hit you like a truck.

You smile wickedly into the wall and press your ass further into him, that move earns you a soft quiet moan and you suppress a victorious chuckle. So he does like your games after all.

“Sweetie, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” You’re amused and he sure as hell can hear it.

By the way he opens his mouth against your ear, it’s obvious he wanted to say something, probably threatening or witty or both, but you can’t have it, not when you almost have him wrapped around your little finger. You move your rear against his clothed member again, harder this time, and he lets out a choked breath; he lets go of your neck and settles his hands on your waist, you feel him leaning closer, his erection pressing harder in your butt.

“Shut up…” He finally all but growls into your ear and turns you around to face him. You can’t help the smile breaking your face.

His cheeks are flushed, his pupils blew wild and you can see the beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead. His breaths uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly. His lips are parted slightly, but you think it’s enough for your tongue to slip into his mouth.

He beats you to it and crushes his lips to yours in a heated kiss. It’s sloppy, and your teeth are cluttering, but you never want it to end. His hands are wandering around, squeezing and groping at every part of your body he can get.

You’re throbbing under his touches and the smug look on his face telling you that he knows it. He knows exactly what effect he has on you. He unclasps your robe and all but rips it off you. He breaks into a crooked smile, clearly enjoying the view.

“On the floor. Face down.” He orders you in low husks, and you’re almost disgusted with how fast you obey him.

He is behind you in no time. Jo spreads your legs with his knee, and you hear him unzip his fly. Rough hands grab a handful of your ass, squeezing your cheeks painfully. You writhed under him and he chuckled darkly.

“Look at you, all spread out for me like a bloody whore.” He gives your bottom a slap and you let out a soft desperate whine. He laughs at you and you feel his hot wet tip at your entrance, teasing you slowly. He grabs a fistful of your hair and commands, “Beg.”

“Please…”

“Please what? Use your fucking mouth, tell the big bad wolf what you fucking want.” His voice is dripping with lust, his hold on your hair tightening.

You all but sob as fingers of his free hand are tracing lightly around your entrance, teasing you. “Please, Joseph… Fuck me!”

He lays on top of you, holding you down with his weight. His cock is hot against your bare ass, his clothed chest solid against your back, making you shiver with anticipation. Without as much as a warning he enters you with one brutal thrust. You let out a loud cry at a slight burn, but he doesn’t give you any time to adjust, immediately setting a quick pace and slamming into you.

Slight discomfort quickly turns into a white hot pleasure. You moan shamelessly and loudly, not giving a single fuck if your neighbors can hear you being fucked. Your head is empty, you’re completely dissolving in the feelings of Jo’s hands on your body, his cock inside of you, his little grunts and whimpers of pleasure.

His hot breath tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, sending shivers through you, his balls slapping against your ass. You sigh and huff quietly under him, not being able to leave any sound, only tightening around his member with every thrust. One of his hands wraps around your throat and gives it a little squeeze. You openly gasp and buck your hips into him. You feel Joseph smirk into your neck, clearly satisfied with your reaction, but you can’t do anything but give in to the sensation.

He takes you rough and fast, hammering into your wetness. The roughness of the carpet causes burns on your cheek and stomach with every thrust, your hands clinging to the fibers for dear life; you feel the coldness of the zipper scratching against your thigh and it sends a jolt of slight pain through you with every slam of his hips. You’re ashamed to admit, even to yourself, that you enjoy it, you like the burning of freshly forming bruises, the heaviness of his body fucking you into the floor.

His touch is rough and harsh, nails scraping at your flesh, leaving red trails on your neck and ass, and you gasp at the sudden pain. He doesn't care for you enough to be gentle, or maybe he likes the pain he's causing you. Your body feels hot, feverish, under his touch; you feel like every inch of your skin is burning where his skin is making contact with you, maybe it’s the fire of hell nipping at your very soul through his hands, because it feels like a sin to want this man so badly while he is already balls deep inside of you; to give in to him and be completely at his mercy.

He’s pounding into you at a rapid pace. The veins of his member rubbing your walls inside of you and the fibers of the carpet make just enough friction to leave you breathless in less than five minutes. You feel your orgasm building fast. Your body starts to tremble, muscles clenching around his cock, milking him. Joseph feels it too, you feel his grip tightening around you neck and he’s hissing into your ear something that sounds like “fuck” and “yes”, over and over, in a hectic whisper. His thrusts become more sloppy, but he doesn’t slow down his movements.

The pleasure is spreading through your body rapidly, consuming you under its waves like a liquid lava, burning your every nerve. The coil in your belly finally snaps and a broken wail rips its way out of your throat, and it’s all you could do to not scream from the intensity of your orgasm. It takes a few more harsh thrusts for Jo to come. He stills at once and lets out a strangled groan in your ear, shooting his load deep inside of your wrecked hole.

He collapses on you, crushing you down to the floor; the weight of his body makes it even harder to breathe properly, but you’re not going to complaint, not when this man gave you the best fuck you've had in many years. After a few minutes he rolls off next to you, you mewl when he slips out of you. You both try to catch a breath for what feels like hours.

Finally, you turn your head to see him smiling from ear to ear with his eyes closed. You’re surprised to see his face so… genuine and even relaxed. You realize you’ve never seen him smile, you love it.

“I love you.” You hoarse suddenly without even thinking and it caught you by surprise. You never meant to tell him that. You’re sure that after this ridiculous statement he’ll stand up, laugh at you and your stupid feelings, say something cruel and walk away with your money like nothing happened. But you are wrong.

“I love you too.” He breathes out without as much as a glance at you.

You can't help the gasp to escape your throat. You remained silent for a few moments, trying to process his words. Joseph Lisgoe, ruthless and violent debt collector of Royston Vasey, the most feared man in town, had just told you that he loved you after fucking you on the floor of your own house.

“What?” You whisper, convincing yourself that it was just a hallucination. He couldn’t say that, could he? It's been five long years since you met him for the first time. Five years filled with desire, longing, fear and almost hatred. Or so you both thought.

He locks eyes with you, smile turning into an annoyed frown.

“I love you, you fucking cunt. Are you deaf suddenly?”

You can’t help the breathy laugh escaping you at his crude confession. Who would have thought that the devil has a heart after all.

masterlist | request rules

#Joseph Lisgoe #Joseph Lisgoe x reader #Joseph Lisgoe imagine #Joseph Lisgoe oneshot #tlog x reader #tlog oneshot #tlog imagine #the league of gentlemen x reader #the league of gentlemen imagine #the league of gentlemen oneshot #Reece Shearsmith #the league of gentlemen #smut #damn it's long and not very good but i've tried really hard #i wish i knew more of a british english but eh here we are

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mrjelly · 2 years

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Pirate Party

Mr Jelly x Reader

Warnings: swearing, sexual themes (nothing filthy…yet)

You are a teacher at a school Mr Jelly is hired to perform at. Despite having a bad day, the cantankerous clown is able to lighten your mood.

hope you enjoy the first part to this fic. More to come soon!

You slam the door of your bosses office behind you and march out to the front of the school. You hadn’t been working at Moloch Road Primary School long before your personality clashed with the headteacher. This time, however, the headteacher’s berating was understandable: one of the mothers overheard you calling a student in your class a nobhead to one of your colleagues. Your boss had brought you in to his office as soon as he was informed by the parent and you were swiftly scolded. It is true though, he is a nobhead, even if he is only ten.

The fresh air cooled your burning skin as you walked out towards the carpark. It was a bitter, grey afternoon but you couldn’t be in that building for a moment longer. You plunged your hands into your pockets for warmth and fell upon a packet of fags. Huffing out some pent up anger, you headed towards the back of the carpark and away from prying eyes. The children were all in lessons but you couldn’t be too careful, not knowing how many chances you had left with the headteacher.

Fishing the packet from your pocket and placing a cigarette between your lips, you scanned your eyes for one last check. All clear. Sparking your lighter, you held the flame to your face; feeling the heat on your nose.

Before you could light your cigarette, your eyes fell upon an unfamiliar sight.

A hearse? A hearse. In a primary school car park. You had seen it all. Lighting your fag and taking a long-needed drag, you chuckle at the thought. You walk towards the car slowly, hoping that there was nobody in the front (or back for that matter). Your eyebrows furrowed as you took another drag, noticing the back was full of boxes. “What the…” you trailed off, in total confusion. You slowly headed around the side of the car, unblinking between drags of your cigarette and your footsteps crunching in the gravel.

“Keeps… Kids... Quiet.” Your face turned to a baffled grimace. Is this some sick joke or are you actually about to discover some weirdo ready to pounce on kids at home time? You stared some time longer trying to understand what this is and peered through the back window to the boxes, again.

“Can I help you?” A passive aggressive voice barked, knocking you back in silence. Your eyes widened in shock, searching for the voice. You looked through the open car window to a man in terrible clown makeup. How could you have missed him in the front seat? He spoke again, noticing how startled you were.

“I’m not a nonce if thats what you are thinking.” His eyes were judgemental.

“Oh no i would never, i’m sorry.” you stumbled your words in an overcompensating kindness. What, so just because he says he isn’t a weirdo, you just let it slide? You offer a smile athough your eyes were still wide.

He hangs his arm out of the window and taps the car door, “Don’t worry,” he starts, staring directly at you, “I know how bad the writing looks, but I’ve actually been hired to perform for the kids, some treat for them or something the head said, I don’t know…” he rambled slightly, obviously trying to ease the tension.

“Oh right!” You offered still very wary. You raised your cigarette to your lips out of awkwardness only to discover it had gone out. Picking your lighter from your pocket your relit your cigarette, avoiding eye contact but you could feel his eyes watching your every move.

“What’s your deal, then?” he spat accusingly, “I saw you coming out the door all moody, now you’ve come over here pestering me!”

“Of course I had to come over, to see what a hearse is doing parked outside of a school.” You spat back, colour returning to your face. “And I was pissed off because i’ve just been shouted at by my boss.”

“What for?” He asked genuinely.

“Oh, just calling one of my students a nobhead.”

“Well they are aren’t they. Can’t stand kids.” He offered a half laugh.

“What? But you’re a clown, isn’t it part of the job?”

“Sewage workers exist, do you think they like sifting through shit all day? Anyway can I have a fag, i’m dying.” He asked before you could laugh, he had a strange, stinging sense of humour.

As you went to grab your packet, he began to step out of the car. You stood back to give him room and offered the cigarette his way. He took it in his mouth and lit it.

“Is it a pirate party?” you pointed to his hook.

“No, i’ve only got one hand.” He cut back monotonously. You laugh loud at his wit and take another drag.

“Its not funny, i’ve only got one hand.” he pulled up his sleeve slightly revealing a bandage beneath his hook.

“God I am so sorry. I thought you were joking.” You reached out slightly, hands up in defence and crimson flaring on your cheeks. Luckily, he didn’t linger on the conversation.

“Well, now you’re here, you can show me where i’m meant to be heading.” You dropped your cigarette and stamped it out.

“I’m Mr Jelly, by the way,”

You raised your head to see him smiling, “Im, Y/N.” You returned the smile and began leading him back to the school.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Oh great Miss L/N, you brought Mr Jolly.” The receptionist beamed.

“No! Miss L/N has brought Mr Jelly. Me and that Bas- Idiot are not the same! I’ve come here to do this show so even if you don’t want me to go on because im not Mr Jolly, you still have to pay me!” He spoke through grated teeth. You didnt realise how loud his voice had boomed until he had finished. There was a few moments of silence before she answered.

“Y/N, show him to the hall.” The receptionist’s face had turned to a stone glare, her voice now soured. She waved her hand at the clown in a dismissive manner and looked back down at her work.

You led the way giggling, turning back to Mr Jelly to take him in properly. There was something strangely attractive about this man, whether it be the mystery of him or the way he raised his voice to the receptionist. But something about him made you feel giddy.

“So this is me then, is it?”

“Yep, your grand stage awaits.” You shifted your feet and looked up at him. His eyes were a piercing blue and his lips, beneath the face paint, were full and. No I am not thinking that, you thought to yourself. You realised how close you were stood to Mr Jelly now and you moved backwards.

“I best be off, I have a lesson to cover. Good luck with the show.” You replied quickly and dashed off down the corridor.

“Well bye then!” He called shaking his head in confusion.

∗ ∗ ∗

You hadn’t been able to concentrate on the lesson you were teaching to the year 4’s. They were uncontrollable in their boredom when you were attempting to teach maths; knowing that the younger years were watching a clown show. Giving up, you had been letting them play a series of maths games on the whiteboard whilst your mind wandered.

You didn’t understand why you had been thinking about Mr Jelly so much, its not like you even knew what he looked like under that makeup. Or even what he was really like- you had only spoken to him for a few minutes and now you had been thinking about him non stop.

You kicked yourself whilst thinking over scenarios in your head: what you should have said, what he should have said… what the both of you should have done. Now you were never going to see him again and would never know if there was anything to come.

You brought your mind back to the present as the kids screamed and laughed at the game they were playing.

“Quieter please guys we don’t want Mr Lock coming in he will make you do real work!” you hushed in your teaching voice. The children erupting in boos and whines like a pantomime, continuing with the game quieter.

You put your head in your hands fed up and ready for the day to be over. Only half an hour, and it would drag along painfully.

In a moment of realisation you raised your head from your hands, a grin splitting across your face. He’s still in the building why don’t I go and watch his show and catch him after? Gaining your composure you looked at your computer and feigned surprise, explaining to the teaching assistant you had a meeting and that she would have to watch them for the rest of the lesson.

Grabbing your coat and bag, you headed to your usual classroom, unlocking it and placing your things inside. You opened the drawer of your desk, searching through stickers and stationary for your mirror and looked over your appearance.

Squeezing your eyes shut you threw your head back. What am I doing, you thought but as soon as the thought passed you began touching up your makeup and headed towards the hall.

Sneaking in through one of the doors, you lingered at the back. You looked at your feet to gain composure. Noticing a rogue carrot by your shoe, you kicked it aside. You guessed the cleaners didn’t care much for the act we were blessed with.

“What’s your favourite animal?” Mr Jelly spoke in a strained jovial tone. He was leaned over to one of the children, sat cross-legged on the food splattered floor.

“Elephant? No, its not an elephant. Don’t LIE. What about a fish?” Mr Jelly began twisting a long balloon into the most simple shape.

“No! Elephant! I want an elephant!” The year 1 screamed.

“You can’t have an elephant!” Mr Jelly replied in an angry singsong tone, “Cos its too hard!” As he sang the last word, leant into the child’s face, the balloon popped from the pressure of his hook. The children screamed, a few that were closest to the explosion burst into tears.

“Brilliant!” He shot his body back in dispair, arms and head hanging back, “See what you’ve done now? Ruined it for everyone one.” He pointed his hooked hand towards the child. One of the teachers shot up from her chair and took centre stage- well, centre dinner hall.

“I think thats all Mr Jolly’s got time for today! How great was that! Now if we all head back to our classrooms,for the last 10 minutes of today, your teachers will show you how to make your own balloon animals!”

“Noooo!” the kids cried at the mention of balloons, their teachers ushering them out.

After the children and teachers had dispersed, you headed over to Mr Jelly who was packing his things. You could hear him mumbling angrily under his breath.

“Probably not the best time to ask for a balloon animal is it?”

He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, but replied as though he wasn’t phased.

“Unless its a dog or a snake or a fish; you can get to fuck.” He finally turned to face you, he appeared to be relieved to see you, his face was slightly drained from his obvious frustration but his eyes were now soft and kind.

“I could show you how to make one if you like,” he said gently, almost nervously. You couldn’t really believe that he had offered and replied almost too fast.

“Yes I would love that. I mean, the cleaners will be coming back in here soon to pretend to clean the floors, but you can show me in my classroom. Don’t worry- my students will have gone by the time we get there.”

He nods and you watch as he continues to pack up his things; when he is done, you lead the way to your classroom. Opening the door and turning the lights on, you let him through with his large bag that he drops on the floor. He slumps down in the chair at your desk. Arms rested on the sides comfortably and his legs apart. You push the dirty thoughts from your mind and walk to the other side of the desk.

∗ ∗ ∗

“No you are doing it all wrong! STOP STOP STOP” BANG another balloon popped between your fingers. You were now sat in your own chair and Mr Jelly was shifting from helping you twist the balloon to darting around the room in fury. You had been talking and laughing for the last twenty or so minutes, feeling totally relaxed with him, strangely, and becoming increasingly attracted to his wild character.

He laughed out maniacally, coming close to you. “Last try…” he stared deep into your eyes. stretching the balloon with his hand and hook, he blew it up and tied it with skill. He passed the balloon to you and instructed you the same he had done the last few times.

“Under…. yes, now twist there…No NO!” His hand grabbed yours before you could kill the balloon animal again. The touch, however innocent, sent shocks through your body and you could feel yourself begin to blush. Using his hand he guided yours to twist and pull the animal into a shape. Now sat on his knees, he watched his own hands as he created the animal slowly; trying to teach you but you watched him instead. His eyes were focussed and his tongue poked slightly out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. You could smell his aftershave (a cheap woody smell) mixed with cigarettes and a scent of lingering alcohol. You looked at how his hand worked so deftly in twisting the balloon: his fingers were wrapped around the back of your own hand, squeezing your skin as he moved it to where he wanted.

You exhaled and looked back to his face, noticing that he was no longer speaking. His own gaze had drifted to your face and your eyes met. You smile at him and his hand stops moving, but he does not remove his grip. He leans slightly in, in anticipation and you meet his lips in a timid kiss.

His lips are soft against your own, the kiss is broken after a few seconds and you both stare longingly between each other’s eyes and lips. Moving his hand from your own, he places it upon your cheek and pulls you in again.

What started off as a chaste kiss, quickly deepens as he slides his tongue in. Heat rises along your skin as your mouths move against each other in sync. Placing his hook under your elbow, Mr Jelly pulls you both up to your feet, walking you backwards until your back hit the wall; the disfigured balloon animal floating to the floor.

Your eyes shot open as you realise where you are. Shit, what if someone was to walk in? Your eyes fell upon the stranger you were intertwined with, his own eyes closed and his eyebrows knitted slightly in pleasure underneath the white face paint. You smiled into the kiss at the thought of the situation, placing your hands on his neck and pulling him in further. At this, his arms grabbed at your waist and brought your body flush to his. The sharpness of his metal hook tickled your back through your shirt, sending a tingling sensation straight to your core. A low moan erupts from the clown as you press your hips into his own, feeling a hardness through his trousers pressing into you.

An ear piercing pop between your feet breaks you from the rising intensity, allowing you both to catch your breath and assess the situation. Mr Jelly looks to the floor then back to you, chuckling.

“These fucking balloons won’t give me a break today.”

Laughing back you move yourself from the wall, needing physical distance to stop yourself from going any further in your place of work. Mr Jelly picks the balloon remains up from the floor, trying to think of what to say after what had just spiralled.

Before either of you can speak, the door opens and a cleaner walks in dragging a hoover.

“Saved by the balloon.” you mutter to Mr Jelly, shooting him a cheeky look. A worried look overtakes his face as he scans your own. His mouth opened as if to speak.

“Am I ok to get started in here?” The cleaner spoke and your turned back to face her.

“Yes of course, Sue, Mr Jelly was just showing me how to make Balloon animals!” You chirped back in the most professional manner you could muster.

“Showing you his makeup skills as well, was he?” She scoffed and plugged in the hoover.

Grabbing the mirror on your desk, you blinked hard in awe of your stupidity. White and red paint smudged all around your lips, you bit your lip to supress a chuckle.

“I guess he was.” You replied in amused defeat, there was no way of explaining that. Grabbing your things you began to exit, Mr Jelly following quickly suit.

As you reached the carpark you hung back for a moment.

“So…” You began, having no real plan of what to say.

“So…” he mimicked, “Well, if you ever… Fancy, you know.” He handed you a business card with his name and number on.

“Very professional,” You looked back up only to realise that he had walked over to his hearse and thrown himself in. You watched as he pulled away from the now sparse car park at a speed you had never seen a hearse go before.

Mr Jelly better be worth potentially losing your job over.

#mr jelly #Psychoville #Psychoville fanfiction #reece shearsmith #reece shearsmith x reader #inside number 9 #league of gentlemen #tlog fanfiction #psychoville x reader #psychoville imagine #inside number nine #tlog x reader

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tlogblog · 3 years

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Backstage in The League of Gentlemen: Live at Drury Lane - Reece getting into costume as Bernice

#this one is v self indulgent ngl #like i can’t imagine this is exciting content for people #but as an ex theatre kid the quick changes in the live shows absolutely FASCINATE me #like i want that backstage footage in live again of reece going from ross to cathy and back again in like a minute #incredible #the league of gentlemen #tlog #bernice #reece shearsmith #britcom #the league of gentlemen live at drury lane #my gifs #bernice woodall #reverend bernice woodall

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ffairytalevillain · 2 years

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Dr Chinnery Imagine

You comfort Matthew Chinnery after he comes home in a right state after another unsuccessful day

Trying to get back into writing and am callenging myself to write a drabbles in 30 mins

The front door opened slowly and initially you thought the noise was the creaking of the door, you had been meaning to fix it for a while, but after the snap of the lock the noise was still there. You tiptoed out of the kitchen, peaking your head round the door to look into the living room where you found your husband. This part was expected, especially after hearing the door go, but what was unexpected was seeing him trying to steel himself against tears- that explained the mysterious sounds.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and you were almost reluctant to approach him, wanting him to come to you but what broke it was seeing him loose his resolve and break into full blown sobs.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” He looked up at your voice and lifted his sleeve to wipe his eyes, he stopped as he caught a glimpse of the blood on the cuff of his yellow jumper and the sobs came harder.

You gently placed an arm around his waist and led him over to the sofa, sitting him down and kneeling in front of him, pulling his hands into yours and giving them a quick squeeze, feeling your stomach turn a little at the blood under his nails but pushing it down.

“It happened again. It keeps happening! I’ve tried pushing that ridiculous curse idea from my head but that’s not working!” The words came out between sobs and you felt your heart break for him. He pulled his hands from yours, pressing them against his face. You gently shushed him and took his hands back.

“Lets get you upstairs and cleaned up, hey?” You watched him nod gently and smiled, pressing another kiss to the back of his hand and standing, pulling him up with you. You guided him upstairs, sending him into the bedroom as you grabbed a towel and turned the shower on for it to warm up.

It sounded like his sobs had subsided a little as you stepped into the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into the full length mirror that was next to the desk. You sat next to him and he leant his head down resting it on your shoulder. He toed off his shoes as he stared into the mirror.

“Matthew… You know none of this is your fault, right?” a sniffle,

“Not once have you purposefully killed or injured an animal. It’s alw-“ He opened his mouth to speak but you pressed a hand over his mouth,

“If you’re going to be mean to yourself then you’re not talking.” You smiled at him in the mirror as you removed your hand and you took it as a small victory when you saw the corners of his mouth twitch up.

“C’mon, the showers on. Lets get you out of these bloody clothes and you can clean yourself up. I’ll make tea.” He nodded and lifted his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he stood. You changed into your own pyjamas and once he was finished undressing you took his clothes downstairs, filling a bowl and placing them in to soak. They could be machine washed tomorrow.

The kettle was just on the brink of boil as the you heard the shower cut off. Making two cups of peppermint tea, you went and sat in the living room, curling into the corner of the sofa and making sure a blanket was within easy reach.

You looked up as you heard the stairs creak, smiling gently and holding your arms up as he rounded the corner. Immediately, he lay next to you and moved round so his head was resting in your lap. Your hand fell into his hair, playing with the damp strands and twisting them round your fingers. He was still crying slightly, not as much as earlier but the odd tear kept leaking from the corner of his eye.

The TV was on in the background but it was playing abstract repeats on one of those odd tv channels near the bottom of the guide, neither of you paying much attention. You moved gently to pick up your tea,

“Matthew, Don’t forget about your tea.” however, as you looked down you saw his eyes closed and for the first time since your husband had walked through the door that evening he looked calm. You took a sip of your tea and placed it back down, grabbing the blanket as you settled back against the sofa, placing it over his legs. Pressing a kiss to your fingertips you then pressed them gently against his forehead, mumbling an I love you as you watched him sleep.

Being able to help him calm down would never be enough, but neither of you knew enough about the curse, or anything to do with it, to even begin to try and unravel the mess his ancestor had gotten him into.

#the league of gentlemen #tlog imagines #mark gatiss

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sarnie-for-varney · 3 years

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ollie directing a play where he and you have to kiss and during rehearsal being the perfectionist he is he makes you do the kiss over and over again so you ask 'are you using this as an excuse to kiss me' and he goes 'i am not!!!!! i am a professional' 😃😃😃

Hello, @mariyatakeuchi ! Sorry that this took so long, I was completely stumped on what to write. Thank you for the suggestion!

@lapis-lazuliie helped me for the start of this, so thank you to them too!

I'm a Professional! - The League of Gentlemen Imagines (Ollie Plimsolls x Reader)

"No, that's not it"

Ollie walked over to the desk and leaned on it. He looked like a teacher lecturing his student. "You aren't doing it right!"

You sighed in exasperation, lowering the script to your side as you looked at him, "God, Ollie. We've done this scene 12 times already."

"Yes, and it has to be perfect!" His mouth set in a frown, "Don't you know anything about kissing?"

You blinked at him, "What?"

He pushed himself off the desk and began waving his hands as he spoke to you, like you were a child. "You know... the act of moving your mouth against someone else's?"

Your forehead creased in confusion, "Yes, of course I do-"

"Then why don't you SHOW me?"

You bristled quietly as you shot a look to Dave and Phil, who were acting as the audience, both watching you with wide eyes; Dave gave a hesitant smile but Phil, sensing the frustration in you, eventually raised a hand.

"Um... Ollie?" You glanced at Phil, remaining silent as Ollie turned to him. Phil continued on, his voice soft, "Don't you think... you should go a bit easier on Y/N? They are a new addition to the group and aren't exactly...accustomed to you."

You watched as Ollie's hands balled into fists, "How could I possibly go any easier on them when they keep messing up?"

Dave now entered the conversation, "They aren't messing up! You're just a bloody... perfectionist!"

A wave of embarrassment washes over you as you realise you've caused an argument. Ollie turns to you, "Let's do it again! And this time... I want more passion! You're supposed to love Gabriel, MY character".

He walks over to you, placing his hands on your waist. No matter how many times he does this, the sensation still makes you jump. "Now put your hands on my shoulders" he mutters, now quiet and gentle. However, there's still a sense of dominance in his voice. You obey and slowly trail your hands up, placing one in the crook of his neck. His sweater was so soft and you can't help but glance at his plump lips as they move towards yours, your eyes fluttering closed as he makes contact.

Instead of pulling away, he pulls you closer to him. You inhale through your nose, running out of breath. Then... he lets go.

Your face twists into a smile, but that disappears when you see his furrowed eyebrows and the glance he's giving you over his glasses. "We'll try again later" He sighs and steps away from you, now speaking to his 'audience' "You two get the backboard out of the van. We need to rehearse the fight scene".

Phil and Dave hesitated. "Well hurry up!" Ollie shouted. With that, the duo sighed and walked slowly out of the room. Ollie watched them leave. He didn't utter a word to you as he returned to his desk. The papers littering his desk were being sorted into neat piles.

"Ollie-" You say, touching his shoulder.

"What?" He doesn't turn to look at you but you could imagine his face just from the annoyance in his voice. His hands scrambled angrily over his desk, collecting wads of paper that he then stuffs into his drawer.

"I know what you're doing" You say, making yourself louder so that he can hear. "You're using this scene as an excuse to kiss me, aren't you?"

All of a sudden, his hands stop moving. He stands there, slightly bent over the table. With a swift movement, he stands straight and turns to look at you. An offended expression paints his face, but it is also covered with a dusting of pink. "Of course not! I'm a professional!"

"That... doesn't really mean anything" You laugh, admiring him.

As much grief as he's given you over these past few weeks of rehearsals, he really is quite cute. His oversized jumper and glasses, his swooped blonde hair. You notice that he's actually quite attractive underneath all that anger, especially when he's rendered speechless before you. Things that you hadn't really noticed before came into view, like his impressively chiseled jawline and his darting blue eyes. Those lips... lips that you realise you've kissed multiple times today. His features really didn't look as child-like as you remember.

Ollie opens his mouth to protest, but closes it again. His gaze shifts to your lips and they linger there. Getting the message, you lean towards him and press your lips onto his. He gives a long exhale through his nose, running his hands over your waist just like he did in the scene. Your arms hook around him and snake up to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss by pushing his head closer to yours. Unlike in the scene, however, his hands travelled down to hold your hips.

The way his hands moved so expertly made you feel that he must've done this before. Ollie's legs were pressed back against the desk so that he was practically pinned to it. Your lips parted for a second, before rushing to continue the heated kiss for another short while.

Then you stepped away from him, panting. He stared at you with a surprised look on his face, also breathing heavily.

"Was that passionate enough for you?" You rasp, still gasping for air.

"It was... perfect"

I hope you enjoyed this!

#ask #asks #ask response #question #questions #suggestion #suggestions #league of gentlemen #tlog #league #ollie plimsolls #league of gentlemen imagines #league imagines #tlog imagines #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #mariyatakeuchi

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afieldinengland · 4 years

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absolutely obsessed with this country as a show because its. Exactly what it’s like growing up where i live

#imagine a mix of this country tlog midsomer murders and the archers. that’s it

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bohemianimagines · 6 years

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Dole Buddies - Ross Gaines x Reader

Summary: You’re sat next to a complete stranger for your first day of your job seekers course. How bad could this possibly be?

Warnings: Some swearing and ross is a twat

Requested by anon with “Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion” from the drabble prompts. I hope you enjoy!

Requests are open!

You sat back in the squeaky plastic chair, drumming your fingers on the desk in front of you; currently waiting for the restart officer of your course to arrive, as well as the other attendees of the class. The shittiest thing about being unemployed in Royston Vasey is that there’s hardly any options out there for someone like you, who’s also trying to avoid the more creepy residents; and there’s way too many of those about…

The door to the class opened and a flurry of attendees, mainly middle aged, balding men; none of which sat next to you, thank goodness.

Maybe you’d get lucky and be left on your on for the entirety of this shitty course.

There was a nice thought.

Until the even squeakier chair beside you moved out and allowed a brown haired man to sit next to you.

Well there goes that.

You sat and waited for the awkward small talk the man would try to make, they always do. You waited for the inevitable and took in the rest of his features.

His fringe flopped to the right side of his face, the angsty teenage boy haircut should look ridiculous on this grown man but oddly enough it seemed to suit him to a T.

He also wore a dark beige jacket with a t-shirt underneath. He also wore a pair of thinly framed glasses. After some deep consideration you came to a sudden conclusion.

He looks like such a twat.

Lets hope he doesn’t act like one.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the man in question.

“You’re new here aren’t you?”

Wow, how observant.

You mentally pushed past your urge to roll your eyes as you reply.

“Yeah I am, my name is Y/N. Nice to meet you…?”

The stranger caught on to your name fishing, and let out a small smile as a greeting gesture.

“Ross Gaines. Nice to meet you too Y/N. If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been job seeking for?”

Well here comes the small talk part that you so fondly dreaded each and every time. You decided to put on your best customer service voice as you prepared your answers in your head.

“Only a few weeks right now, my previous work place went bust, so I was made redundant and so I’m finding myself being put on this course right now. What about you Ross?”

His eyes shifted quickly to the side and floor at your question. A bit weird, but hell maybe he just isn’t a fan of small talk either? It could be some good common ground to bond other, seeing as you’ll be sat with Ross for the next few weeks.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to answer, your ears were assaulted with a loud boom.

“Hockey-Cockey-Pig-in-a-Pockey! Morning job-seekers! I’m not surprised to see that most of you dole-scum are still taking this course, but still that’s what I’m here for!”

Oh Jesus Christ, what have I got myself into?

As the morning went on, the loud, ginger middle-aged woman with Deirdre Barlow glasses went on the introduce herself via her whiteboard as Pauline Campbell-Jones.

You could hardly believe the obscenities and rudeness that were coming out of this woman's mouth! You and Ross had shared many judging looks between the two of you and it had only been twenty minutes since the class had started.

You and Ross were both currently writing your details on a worksheet; a sort of ‘beginners CV’ that was clearly designed for school children. You had been comfortably working in silence when Ross piped up with an unexpected question. Obviously in a slightly hushed voice.

“So Y/N, what type of work are you interested in getting into? Accounting, receptionist, anything along the lines of that?”

He looked curious; as were you.

It was almost hard to believe that someone like Ross could be unemployed in Royston Vasey, especially for such an officious person as he seemed to be.

“Well I specialise in creative fields; such as art, pottery, I dabble in writing sometimes too, and I have quite an extensive-”

“No offence Y/N, but in my opinion, most employers in Royston Vasey aren’t looking for that type of work. Not many places are; maybe you should go for something more useful?”

The arrogance that radiated off this man was astounding. Your first opinion of him turned out to be correct. He dresses and acts like a complete twat.

How dare he?

You snapped back.

“Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

He looked both offended and bewildered at your response; obviously not being one to like being put down Ross went to deliver his indignant reply, but was fortunately interrupted by Pauline.

“For goodness sakes, Ross, will you shut up? No wonder no fucker wants you to work for them!”

You let out a triumphant smirk as you heard Ross release a furious huff.

#the league of gentlemen #ross gaines #ross gaines x reader #tlog #drabble #requests #fanfiction #fanfic #imagines

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