#like two thirds of my collection came from right stuf

[dagmartoons]

[cloudcountry]

I just discovered your writing and I love how you write Idia! If requests are open, could you write Idia with an S/O that cooks for him? It's heavily implied that Idia has depression and is very thin do to his lack of self care and malnutrition, but since he started dating he gains some weight and gets a bit insecure about it but reader comforts him because they're just happy that's he's eating healthy

SUMMARY: idia is starting to eat healthier and put on weight, which spawns new insecurities. you help him through it.

COMMENTS: i'm so unhinged about this request please. PLEASE. do not look at me right now im in SHAMBLES. you've saved my life with his request. IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT FOREVER I WROTE THIS IN LIKE 45 MINUTES IM LOSING IT. THIS BAD BOY CAN FIT SO MUCH NON SEXUAL INTIMACY IN IT. CRYING.

In the beginning of your relationship, getting Idia to eat and drink was like pulling teeth. You didn’t want to force it—Idia knew how he felt far better than you, and making him do something he didn’t want to was just cruel. You knew from the start that if he didn’t want to eat, he wouldn’t, and even after consulting Ortho you didn’t notice any changes in his attitude towards eating. You reminded him to drink water constantly and brought him little snacks, but the water bottles remained mostly full and the snacks were unopened. While you managed to coax another few sips of water out of Idia, the snacks were still a no-go and his vitamin drinks won the day once again.

It took until the two of you were second years for him to consider eating more, and you were so delighted that you began to cook for him. Although he still gained most of his nutrients from those vitamin drinks he’d always drink in place of meals, you were so proud of him when he started eating the small portions you’d set out for him. Each container had four sections, one full of dried fruits, one with nuts, one with vegetables, and the last with meat. You always wrote him a note telling him how proud of him you were, encouraging him to eat the whole thing but letting him know he could stop eating whenever. It was more of a snack than anything, but he’d eaten it, the whole thing, and you felt so moved you’d almost cried.

Idia never thought it was that much a deal, even when you started gradually increasing his portion sizes into your third year at NRC, always replying to your praise with bashful mumbles and scoffs, twisting his beautiful hair into knots as a nervous habit. He would finish his snacks and bashfully ask for more, turning his pink cheeks away from you when you’d beam and tell him you’d be on it right away. Noodle dishes were popular, along with sweet chicken recipes, and anything with rice or pasta. You avoided using meats like pork or beef or anything that wasn’t light like poultry. Idia always favored things that went down easy, not hearty meals that left you feeling stuffed (and, of course, you never fed him sushi due to his dislike of raw fish.)

He was drinking more water as the years went on, too—by the time you came to collect his dishes and figure out if he wanted more food or not, you’d catch a glance of a half empty water bottle and feel your heart fluttering in your chest. It made you so happy to see him eating and drinking healthier. Even if he complained about needing to go pee more often (which took out of his gaming time, oh the dramatics) you could tell he felt better. It had been a journey of three years but you and him were making some serious progress together, and you couldn’t be more proud.

To celebrate just how proud of him you were, you’d gotten Idia a small chocolate cake to go with his lunch, and you were delivering it a bit early to surprise him.

Balancing all of the food on one hand, you bounce on the balls of your feet as you punch in the security code to his room (it changed every day and he always texted you the new one, reassuring you that your messages had been encrypted ten times over so nobody could even chip at the defenses, not that you were worried about someone hacking your phone in the first place.) The door opens with its usual mechanical woosh and shuts behind you the second you step inside, immediately locking again.

“Idia, I bought you a gift today!” you cheer, setting the containers down on his bed.

You turn around to face the rest of his room before stopping dead in your tracks, coming face to face with very wide eyed, shirtless Idia. He’s clutching his shirt to his chest, trying to hide as much of him as he possibly can, but the way the fat of his stomach pinches and rolls at his side could still be seen past the fabric. Your mouth forms a small o shape as you stare, taking him in.

“Stop staring!” he yells, and it's only then that you notice the tears in his eyes and the pink borderline red flickers in his flames, “Get out!”

He throws himself into the gamer chair, spinning it enough so that the back of it faces you. You can see him curling up into a little ball, struggling to get his shirt on in the state he’s in.

“Idia, wait!” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

Soft sniffles fill the room, and it breaks your heart.

“Why are you here early?” he snaps, still not coming out from his hiding place.

“I bought you a miniature cake. You’ve been eating more lately and I’m proud of you for that.” you say softly, sitting down on his bed, “I’m not going to come over there, darling. Don’t worry. This is a safe space, you know? I would never judge you.”

Idia is silent for a few beats before he speaks again.

“Maybe...maybe I should stop eating.” he murmurs, and the pain that shoots through your heart makes you gasp.

“Idia, no.” you plead, gentle even though you’re panicking, “What’s making you feel this way? You’ve been doing so well, you’ve told me how good you’ve been feeling this past year because you’re eating healthier, what changed?”

“I look like this!” he spits out, and there’s so much self loathing in his tone it brings tears to your eyes as well.

“You look beautiful, darling, you always have. What about yourself do you not like?” you plead, hoping and praying he’ll open himself up to you.

“I’ve gained weight. I’m not as skinny anymore. I look gross.” he peeks out from behind his chair and your heart breaks at how bloodshot his eyes are, “I don’t...want you to see me like this and leave me.”

“My love...” you keep his gaze, leaning as close as you can to him without leaving the bed, “I love you no matter what you look like, you know that right? I love you as a person. You will always, always look lovely to me. I love you. I don’t love a perfect version of you I made up in my head. Every single insecurity you have, I love, because they aren’t flaws. They’re just you.”

You let him take your words in, listening to his heavy breaths before you stand up.

“Darling...can I see you?” you ask carefully, “I want to see you.”

He hesitates.

“Promise me you won’t be disappointed.” Idia’s voice cracks mournfully, like he’s already accepted a fate that will never befall him.

“Never.” you answer immediately.

Your breath catches in your throat when he shamefully moves away from his gaming chair, staring at the ground to avoid looking at you. Your heart hits the ceiling with how light it feels, your lungs contracting and your body growing warm. Oh, he’s ethereal.

You take in the parts that he hates—the creases of his neck and his soft pecs (his nipples are blue, you note, and honestly that doesn’t surprise you), the rolls of his stomach and the fiery trial of hair that leads to his pelvis. You take in the blue glow under his arms and the way the fat of his upper arm folds into his shoulder, and his way his stomach hangs a little over the waistband of his pants. You take it how his arms are bigger now, whether that be from growth or the added weight you don’t know, but what you do know is that all of this beauty was hiding under his hoodie for the past three years. Probably even longer.

“You’re beautiful.”

And your voice breaks as a single hand covers your mouth, hearts in your eyes as you finally, finally make eye contact with Idia, his hair sparking and popping like solar flares as the flames turn pink.

You love that pink.

“B...Beautiful!?” Idia jerks back, looking so scared and ashamed and confused, “What are you talking about!? Beautiful is for men in otomes with eight pack abs, I’m no ikemen but I’m not stupid and how could you ever call me something like that—!?”

“Idia Shroud, you’re beautiful!” you shout, your voice far louder than you intended and it cracks again because oh, you’re so emotional, how could this man think he’s anything but beautiful?

“...what?” he whispers, shirt still clenched in his hands like a lifeline, “You...you don’t want to leave me?”

What you want to do is ask why you ever thought he’d leave you in the first place.

What you do instead, is tell him no.

And you stay.

You don’t make an excuse to leave or try to let him down slowly. You stay in his room and you ask to hug him, you stay in his room and you embrace him so tenderly when he says yes, you stay in his room with him and you kiss his temple, holding all of the extra fat he didn’t come with when you fell in love with him in your arms, loving him all the same even though he’s changed.

He doubts you’ve ever called someone beautiful as many times as you’re calling him that right now.

So Idia shuts his eyes and buries his face in your shoulder, hiding his face and his body and his sobs from the rest of the world in the safety of your arms.

You really will love him no matter what.

He doesn’t know what to do.

[blingblong55]

Closer -John "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW

Photo credit for that Ghost work to @ave661

Based on a request: I need smut on Werewolf!Soap and Vampire!Ghost, it keeps me alive and afloat 😔❤️ Closer by Nine Inch Nails A/N: Imagine riding Soap to this song as Ghost's fangs dig into your neck🫠. I mean, you can't convince me they don't have an orgy with this song in the background ---- F!Reader, 18+, MDNI, smut, monster!au, werewolf!Soap, vampire!Ghost, threesome, unprotected!sex, human!reader, dom!Soap, dom!Ghost, sub!reader, blood!play, pup!play/bondage, rough!sex ---- A/N: straight into it so I hope this meets your expectations…

You are straddling Soap's hips on the red velvet sheets that made the bed. Ghost's fangs dig into you as his fat and needy cock gets buried deep inside your tightness. Soap, watching from under you, hands behind his head as with amusement he holds the pink leash that holds your neck close to him.

They were right, a sweet and small little human like you wasn't ready for the punishment your strange neighbours had for you. Your tight and small hole getting fucked relentlessly by Ghost as Soap had you riding his girthy cock. Between praises and slaps you found yourself having your third orgasm of the evening. No one said that pleasing men with great stamina were easy but you can take it, can't you?

The dark walls, filled with old portraits and your soft body adorned the room. Cum leaked from your cunt and tight ass. Your mouth drooling from when Soap began to fill your mouth with his fist. Your tits bounce and occasionally slap on Soap's hard and hairy chest. Growls of excitement and hunger for more of this fuck dinner getting louder. Tears run down your face when the sharp dagger in Ghost's hand rips the thin fabric of your lacy bra. The blade made some blood run down, which only excited Ghost when he watched Soap's finger pick some of the crimson and make you lick his fingers clean.

If only they had told you earlier that they didn't need a good catholic slut to come and collect old Bibles but instead, that they wanted to corrupt your body, blood and those tasty holes of yours.

Blood drunk, that is what Ghost is as he filled your ass with more of his thick seed. Soap pulls on the leash, "Kiss me, slut," he grunts, his cock so deep inside of you that your wet cunt aches. Your lips meet his and his sharp teeth make your sweet mouth leak blood, this only makes Ghost feral.

Both men pounding into you. Their meaty cocks and balls are ready to just fill you up over and over until you learn to not go into strange homes.

Ghost takes hold of your neck, tilting it to the side to get more of that sweet and addicting blood you have.

Soap like the absolute beast he is begins to fight for dominance. Both men laugh as all you can do is control you, their submissive pet reminded of why she is kept alive. And you wouldn't complain, would you?

Ghost almost makes you pass out but before he can, Soap pushes him off, flips himself over and takes you from behind. His balls slapped against your aching cunt as you took his size so well. Just before he slaps that red face of yours, your pretty and tight hole gets stuffed and spread wide by his fat cock that leaks his creamy seed. Your moans and cries of pleasure mixed in with his growls and grunts.

Ghost watches this with amusement, he knows a good girl like you could take a size or two but not something remotely close to Soaps.

Finally, when they undo your wrist restraints and unleash you, both men massage your body. Whispering sweet praises for taking them so well and knowing that they were too pleased, they will certainly ask the priest to let you visit their home for some "prayers".

"Shh, it's okay, you did a good job," Ghost licks and kisses the blood from your body. "Yeah, you did so well for us, lass," Soap wipes the tears from your delicate face.

A/N: Short I know but...it's all my brain came up with

Tags:

@goldenmclaren @vampsquerade @jobug93 @madsnic1119 @luvecarson @bbunni-boo @kay-radioactive @warenai @liyanahelena @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @phantomly27 @lolliepopsicle @imjusthereforkonig @dukeofjjune @strangepuppynightmare @9rutally @creamwhxre @frizzseaberries @missbones02 @moonsua1 @krinoid24 @katybaby00 @saoirse06 @alxexhearts @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @ikohniik @strawberrychita @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @lovelyvqer @nobodys-coffee @the_royal_bee @soapybutt17

[kaciidubs]

Thinking abt minho eating pussy like its ice cream....

Like mans would full LATCH onto your shit,then tounge fuck you....(ASJGKDJSHVKWNWKCJQJ-) AND AND HE WOULD SO SPIT ON IT- IM- 😍🫣🤭🤭 then your eyes turn glossy n shit and your like "damn....why he fucking my shit up 😔?". He would also take your ability to walk by eating you out...LIKE HOW?!?! (ive NEVA got my poosay ate before so ion know what it feels like 😔💔)

-🪼

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Kitten Licks

Jellyfish nonie, I fully believe Minho would be the type to HAPPILY spend his hours lazily licking and eating you out like you were the worlds finest soft serve ice cream!!

❣ Summary: Greed was a devilish thing to a man who simply wanted to eat you like an ice cream cone. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 458 ❣ Warnings: Slight Dom! Minho, oral, fingering, spit play, degradation, implied multiple orgasms, pussy drunk Minho ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Minho is referred to as Min, Reader is referred to as Kitten and greedy ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

You’re not sure how long you’ve been spread on your bed - it could’ve been a day, a week, two hours, 45 minutes, the concept of time evaded you as you fought the roll of your eyes; your chest rising and falling with heavy pants.

“M-Min- Minho-”

He hummed against your clit in response, the act only serving to make you arch off of the bed with a choked moan - you were so sensitive, so fucking sensitive and he was the cause of it all.

“Kitten,” he huffed, pulling away from your pulsing cunt with an air of annoyance and sheer audacity, “if you have something to say, then say it - I’m sort of busy here.”

Oh, how you wished you could punch him, but he’d essentially finger and tongue fucked all the strength out of you - all of the sense out of you.

Your legs were bent at the knee and spread on the bed, his head previously laying against the inside of your left thigh as he lazily licked and suckled at your clit, nimble fingers stroking at your dripping hole and bringing more of your arousal out for him to lap up.

You’re not sure how many orgasms he was able to pull from you just from this technique alone; it felt like after the first one hit, each one that followed came in waves that were slowly built off of the previous, each one more intense, lasting even longer. 

“Please, I want you.”

“And you have me, don’t you?”

The nonplussed look he leveled you with sent chills down your spine, your walls clenching around the two fingers stuck within you like a placeholder, pacifying you until he was ready to give you something more.

“Oh - you’re just being greedy, aren’t you?” He tsked, curling his fingers to graze the softness of your g-spot, “Four- Five orgasms, and you’re still not satisfied - not until you’ve been stuffed full of my dick, hm?”

A flash of mischief streaked across his face, and before you knew it he was sliding a third finger past your sensitive walls, setting a pace that flexed the muscles in his bicep and made the veins in his arm pop.

“Oh my g- Minho!” Your body writhed - well, as much as it could as he kept you spread for him with even stronger arms, incomprehensible moans and babbles leaving you through choked sobs and electrified overstimulation.

“Give me two more,” he gritted before dipping his head down, lapping messily at your clit before licking around where his fingers were currently drilling inside of you, collecting your arousal in his mouth before spitting it right back onto your pussy. “Two more, then we’ll see if you’ve got enough sense left for my cock.”

[lampmanliveblogs]

”I must go now. My planet needs me.” -King, probably

(what's that under the collector's bed? i freaked out a little bit when I first saw it, because I thought it was philip, but nah, it looks like another stuffed animal. but can you imagine the kind of damage philip could do if he managed to possess the collector??)

As the space cherub and his island-in-training best friend take a break from their game of pretend, we cut to Boscha, who’s right in the middle of her own game of pretend. She is playing at being emperor. The school is her castle, and the gym is her throne room, complete with masked soldiers standing guard. She’s even got a special guard standing by her side, one with a shoulder pad on only one shoulder.

You know, when Kikimora said she wanted to be the new Golden Guard, I don’t think this is what she had in mind.

Because that’s Kikimora, right? It’s got to be, and the big guy is her Abomatron.

Speaking of Kikimora, I was cleaning up my desk a little while back when I found a note I had written and then completely forgot about, I think it might’ve been in response to an ask I got but never answered. The note read as thus:

”It’s ironic that Kikimora wanted to be the Golden Guard, seeing as the only privilege afforded the Golden Guard is that Belos will kill you personally, a courtesy he did not extend to Kikimora… and it came back to haunt him.” 

(except with more misspellings)

I gotta admit, as far as false names goes, Miki and Roka are kinda funny. We love a good word scramble. Actually, I don’t, I’m no good at those. This one wasn’t so hard because I knew the answer.

The thing I’m wondering though is how Kiki managed to fit that weird hand on her head under that wig.

The idea of Boscha taking them in after ”the incident” is reminiscent of the false backstory given the Golden Guard in season two.

I should probably also mention that Kiki-I’m sorry, I meant ”Miki.” When Jerbo was putting forth his plans to make things not suck for everyone, Miki interjected, saying that doing so would take up her time… and implying that without the constant protection of ”Miki” and ”Roka,” Boscha would be turned into a puppet and collected as well.

YO, is she gonna try to recreate the teleportation circle Philip used in Elsewhere and Elsewhen?!? See, I told you guys, I told you! I told you it’d be so cool if Luz or Lilith memorized it and used it, and no they’re doing it!

I mean, hopefully. Weeeeell… aside from the possibility that the teleportation circle will just outright fail (there was what, some twenty glyphs to it?), Kikimora might also have some objections. She might still have a grudge towards Hunter, for one thing. Or all the kids, for all the trouble they’ve caused her.

I dunno about you guys, but this is giving me Hollow Mind vibes. In the sense that I’m gonna spend way too long squinting at paintings in the background. I’ll be somewhat brief, because as per usual, I’ll probably get a better look at at least some of them in a sec.

Let’s see, what do we have here…

On the right side of the screen (King’s left) it appears to be mostly depictions of various space-related things. There is one with a shooting star or meteorite about to hit a planet’s surface, which might be the Collectors arriving at this world

The left side of the screen (King’s right) is where things get interesting. Going from closest to the screen to furthest away, we have…

A painting of three Collectors looking at what I assume is a depiction of the Demon Realm planet. There is a wee little collector coming up to them. This one is, aside from being smaller than the others, purple, where the others are blue. The little one is obviously supposed to be The Collector, our little Lord of the Fireflies.

The next painting shows two collectors holding and trying on Titan skulls. In the background is either a Titan, a Titan trapper, or the third collector disguised as a Titan. 

The third painting looks an awful lot like the mural we saw way back in Echoes of the Past. If we go by the ”collector dressed as a Titan” theory in the previous paragraph, then this painting might be depicting that collector in combat against a Titan. At the feet of the Titan is an egg, and we can see the head of a smaller Titan. So far, this seems to fall in line with the theory I put forth a little while ago, about the Titan Trappers worshipping not THE Collector, our Prince of Plastic, but another collector. One who gave them the idea of dressing up like their prey.

The fourth painting shows the three big collectors throwing away the littlest collector.

The fifth painting shows the little collector surrounded by baby Titans. D’aw!

The sixth… I really can’t tell, but I think I can see the three faces of the three tall collectors. Maybe it’s them leaving this planet and choosing to abandon the little one.

[alienhazy]

Jude 1:6

When I was born, I suffered two strokes while being held by the doctor.

My mom tells me that that was what caused my paralysis; two strokes, back-to-back, resulting in permanent damage to my brain and body. I can't talk, can't use the bathroom by myself, can't move any part of my body besides my fucking eyelids. When you're trapped in your own body, while everyone around you treats you as if you've never had an intelligent thought in your life, you start to harbor some resentment to the very people trying to help you, even if you can't do anything about it.

As a kid, I was very alone. I was the only child, and my mom had had me out of wedlock, which meant that I didn't have a dad, either. You'd think that as a result of this I would be close to my mom, would love and trust her, and yeah, maybe back then that was true. She never talked down to me, never treated me like I was some brain dead vegetable, cared for me…

For a while.

I'm sitting in my room watching the sun come up after another sleepless night of beeping machines, blinking lights, and the hissing of my CPAP that I wasn't wearing, since Mom had gone to bed drunk for the third night this week and hadn't put it on me. I wasn't sleeping, so it wasn't like it mattered, but that didn't mean that I wasn't extremely mad about it—I could literally die, and had I gone to sleep I probably would've. Maybe that was what she wanted.

Had it been any other day besides Thursday, the sound of the key in the lock of the front door would've scared me a bit, since my mom didn't have any friends and I certainly didn't, either; however, I knew who it was, and as if on cue, my nurse Tonya could be heard making her way down the hallway towards my room, her keys jingling and hard-soled shoes tapping against the (once pretty) hardwood floors. She said something before she entered the room, but I couldn't make out what it was, squeaking of the door hinges announcing her arrival in time with her sweet, cheery voice greeting, "Good morning, Billie Willie!"

I wanted to be mad that she called me that, but I could never be mad at her. She was the nicest person I knew and took really good care of me, even if my mom gave her problems by insisting we didn't even need a nurse. Bitch. "Oh, you're up already! And looks like your mom took care of your CPAP, too. Ready for your bath?"

Although I could move my eyes, I didn't and continued to stare out the window, that aching, horrible, unending sadness that always came around during the night sitting like a weight in my chest, the only thing I could feel on that part of my body; from my right, Tonya came into view and blocked the window as she began unhooking me from my machines, her dark skin flawless as always, the pretty emerald of her makeup matching the scrubs she was wearing, along with the necklace that dangled in front of my face as she checked my intubator. I've always thought she was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen, and was secretly glad when her transfer to a different patient was canceled after they died—you didn't hear that from me, though. "How do you like my new perfume? Blink for me," She requested, and I did so, blinking twice to tell her that it smelled good, because it did. Tonya smiled and gave my nose a boop, which, if it'd been anyone besides her, I would be pissed, but I know she did it because that was just how she was. "Good, I'll put some on you after your bath."

Off we went to the bathroom, Tonya pushing me in my wheelchair out of the doorway and down the hall, past my mom's room, which had the door cracked open; inside, briefly, I could see her passed out on her bed, holding her stuffed dog with a bottle of coconut rum (her favourite) on the floor, the lid gone and half the contents of the bottle spilled out everywhere. Had I been able to, I would've sneered, but instead I returned my eyes to the wall, the pictures hanging there beginning to collect dust; I'd seen them a million times before, but no matter how often they whiz by on my way to the bathroom, I still can't recognize any of the people in them.

Tonya used my foot in my stirrup to push the halfway ajar door to the bathroom open, her voice edging on sad when she saw the state of it; it was still exactly the same as she'd left it when she was here two days ago, my mom not even bothering to clean it or take care of the dirty laundry, the towel that was dropped on the floor soaking wet and starting to smell like mold. "Jesus Christ—oop, I mean, dang," She said in a hushed tone, coming around from the back of me to start picking everything up. "Gimme one second, Billie, I'm just gonna get this stuff put away." She lifted the wet towel between two fingers with a disgusted face, her perfectly manicured nails serving as tongs to hold it so she wouldn't have to actually touch it.

I hated how dirty the house was. I liked for things to be neat and orderly, everything in its place and organized for ease of access, but my mom was the exact opposite of that; she used to clean, I remember, singing along to music playing on the TV and giving me a little concert as she vacuumed. That was years ago now. I couldn't have been older than 12, and now, at the ripe old age of 20, my mom wasn't even a ghost of her former self.

I'd probably only been sitting alone in the bathroom for about ten minutes when Tonya came back with a clean towel, the front of her scrubs dampened around her pudgy stomach and normally bright face full of worry. However, she wiped that look away and gave me a smile, beginning to undress me so I could have my first bath since the last time she was here. "Off come the pants!" She announced as she always did, pulling them off of me with more ease than I expected, no matter how many times she'd done this; next was my underwear, then my shirt and bra, and before I knew it I was naked and being put into my bathing harness, the whirr of the motor lowering me into the tub the only sound in the quiet space around us. "Oh, forgot to fill the tub! Sorry if it's cold on your butt, Billie," She apologized, letting the machine finish its business as she plugged up the drain and started the water—lukewarm, how I preferred it. She had actually asked me when she'd done this for the first time, unlike my mom, who just used whatever came out of the faucet, even if it was ice cold.

She was right about the tub being cold on my butt and back, and there was some kind of pain, too, on my legs, which only got worse as the water reached me and began pooling around my body. I looked over to her and blinked as fast as I could, which wasn't very, a vain attempt to get her attention; she was busy with getting my shower stuff out from under the sink, though, and didn't turn around to look at me until the water was at my stomach, turning it off with a swiftness. The click of the top of the soap being opened, the splash of the water from her filling a cup, and then my body was being cascaded with water so temperate I could barely feel it, Tonya beginning to wash me with a soft, natural sponge—it'd been a gift from her. She said that it would help keep my skin soft, and although I wouldn't know if it worked, I did enjoy the way it felt when she washed me, making bath time that much more enjoyable. "Alright, I'm gonna roll you over, brace yourself."

I laughed internally at her joke, and she laughed aloud, a little chuckle escaping her always smiling face as she turned me slightly on my side, just enough to access my back and butt.

A pause. The energy in the room grew cold, Tonya's hands on my upper back stopping in their motions and in their tracks—what was she looking at? I got the chance to ask her, because she turned me back around and looked at me with complete seriousness, though there was that signature concern she seemed to always get whenever something was out of place. I blinked a couple times, and she held my hand, looking me in the eyes. "Billie, I need you to be honest with me, okay? Has your mom been taking care of you? You…" A beat, then she continued, "You have a few bed sores on your back, small ones, all the way down to your thighs. Blink once if she isn't."

Bed sores, huh? Well it was about time that something like that happened; usually, Mom would shift me around every couple hours, even if it was just rolling me to one side on my bed, but ever since Tonya had been here the last time, she hadn't done anything. I was surprised she even fed me.

I blinked once.

Tonya sighed, her head dropping and shoulders going with it into a slump. Nothing was said besides a whispered, "Okay," and then she continued in washing me, silence filling the room even as the water lapped against the side of the tub.

After my bath, Tonya finished up my basic needs like changing my bedpan, making sure I had all my medicine, along with a number of other things I didn't get to see due to where she'd put me in my room; my bed sores needed special treatment, but thankfully she'd already brought some stuff needed for it beforehand, like the mattress overlay to take pressure off the wounds and dressing to clean and cover them. I was kind of excited to get to lay in my bed, for once, as normally being confined there with only the lilac walls as entertainment was enough to bring me to tears, but I'd been in my wheelchair for a couple days now, and was really starting to get tired—it wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing in the world. For longer than a few hours, anyway.

Cleaning wasn't exactly a part of Tonya's job description; given the state of our house, however, it made sense that she'd want to get at least some done—that's what she told me, anyway, before leaving me there on my bed. From outside my window, I heard the sound of kids laughing and feet running on concrete, causing a pang of sadness to bite at my insides. Yeah, I've never known what it's like to walk, to talk, to do anything besides sit there and stare, but even just those small sounds, those of happy children with friends and working legs, was enough to make my eyes slide shut, my entirety wallowing in that melancholy ocean, slipping further and further beneath the waves, sinking like a stone.

I'd been fed, medicated, bathed, and now that my clothes were clean and my bed was made, I was quickly falling asleep, the sound of Tonya doing the dishes and the feeling of tears running down my cheeks the last sensations I experienced before I drifted off.

+

It was late when I woke, but not terribly; my eyes flickered open to the sight of the sun shining through my window at a slight angle, indicating it was probably somewhere around 3PM, which meant that Tonya had been gone for a while now. If I'd been able to sigh, I would've.

A blanket of eerie silence had covered the whole house, not even the low murmur of the TV in the living room breaking it—was Mom still in bed? It wasn't unusual for her to sleep late, but even at her worst, she still made sure to get up and check on me before heading back to sleep. Part of me wondered if she'd finally died, the alcohol and abuse of my pain medicine creating that fatal concoction that took her in her sleep, but even as I had that thought, I knew it wasn't true. I could hear the creaking of her bed, the quick dragging shuffle of her slippered feet to the bathroom, the retching into the toilet as she puked up last night's dinner of liquor and pills.

She never used to be like this. My mom had always been sad, the result of a boyfriend that ghosted her the second he found out she was pregnant, a mom who died only days after I was born, her siblings taking all her mom's money and leaving her nothing with which to care for her now disabled daughter. I'd watched her fight for even a crumb from the state, watched her grow and change just as she did me, but instead of her becoming stronger, she only deteriorated. It was sort of like we were mirror images of each other, my body physically reflecting the state of her mind—trapped and broken, hurting, angry. I used to feel bad, when I was younger, that I was requiring so much of my mother in order to live, and as a result forcing her to sacrifice her entirety. I remember when she used to read to me, not any books from the library, but stories she'd written just to entertain and please me. We would go on walks, hang out together, regardless of the fact that I could say and do nothing.

Yeah, I used to love my mom. But that was before she stopped loving me.

The faucet in the bathroom was turned on, and I heard Mom brushing her teeth and spitting into the sink, then heard the flick of the light switch, followed by her drag-shuffle back down the hall; however, she didn't go to her room. Instead, she stopped in front of mine, pausing as though deciding whether or not to check on the vegetable—me. Must've felt guilty, because she did, opening my door and entering very silently, no longer dragging her feet, but instead she walked as though she was trying not to make any noise. From the corner of my eye, I could see her stop beside me, her raggedy pajama shirt only barely showing off the shorts she'd been wearing since I was a baby. Her eyes were sunken, the bags under them puffy and dark; to be honest, she looked like she'd been crying, and had it not been a nightly occurrence, I would've felt bad (I still did, somewhere inside me, but it'd long since frozen over). "You're in bed," She said, her voice hoarse. "I guess it is Thursday."

Silence. She didn't move and neither did I, only looking at her out of the corner of my eyes as I stared up at the ceiling, making shapes out of the popcorn drywall. After a few seconds, she sat beside me, then gently pushed me aside, enough to give her room to lay down. Been a while since she did this.

More silence. It was at this point, when I could bare it no longer and finally decided to look at her, that I noticed she was holding a syringe. The fluid inside was clear, there was no label, nor was there a needle—it was just the syringe. I had absolutely no idea what it was, but it gave me a bad, bad feeling, a pit beginning to eat its way through my stomach. "When I was pregnant with you, I had all these ideas about what you'd be like," Her dark hair, the same shade as mine, hanged halfway in her face, the rest splayed over my pillow to become one with mine, indistinguishable as the expression that clouded her face. "I wondered what you'd sound like, how you'd cry, what songs you'd sing to. I thought, 'Will she be a happy baby? Fussy?' I thought maybe you'd be like me, always hungry and always smiling."

She rolled slightly over to set the syringe on my nightstand, then turned back to face me entirely; there was an emptiness there, in her hazel eyes, a countenance I couldn't even begin to decipher. What was she talking about? "Sometimes I wonder if what happened to you was my punishment. Then I think that maybe it was a gift, or fate, or the universe giving me someone to help ease my fucking agony."

I stared at her, but she wasn't looking at me anymore—her eyes were pointed down at her hands, which were entangled in her shirt. "You were never supposed to happen. I never wanted kids, but Simon, he… He wanted them bad enough that he was willing to force me. So he did."

Forced..?

It was starting to make sense, what she was talking about, but I didn't even get a chance to process it, because as soon as she'd finished her sentence, she sat up on one arm to stare down at me, her other arm coming around to rest on my chest, her hand flat to my sternum. My mom had always been thin, but with her addiction issues, she'd only waned that much more; it was obvious in how the veins of her hands stood out like ridges and valleys over the top—had I been able to, I would've sneered. "And then he left me. He gave me the burdening debt of a child, one that he wanted so badly, and left me."

She was starting to cry, but that only lasted for about thirty seconds, forcing her face to be neutral once more. "I wanted to be strong for you. I wanted to be the mother you deserved, but there's something wrong with me that I've dealt with for a long time, and I… I can't deal with it anymore." She cradled my face in her hands, and I could feel them shivering. In her eyes, there was… something, which I had never seen before, swimming in the amalgamation of colours that her irises were comprised of. A weakness—no, it wasn't weakness. It was defeat. Like she'd given up.

Everything was clicking together now; this whole time, when I thought she'd hated me, was drinking and abusing my painkillers to get away from me, but she'd really just been running from herself. Wait, the syringe; I wanted to look over at it, I wanted to tell her no, please don't do it, but all I could do was watch her, and wait.

She raised her hand, reached, and took up the syringe with ginger movements, holding it between us so that we could both see it. "Your morphine," She said, her trembling fingers only causing it to wobble even more, but still didn't spill a drop. By this point, she was no longer crying, but instead, almost seemed to be completely numb; there were still tear stains running down her cheeks, still snot running in a thin line down from her nostrils, but her eyes held no tears. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I wanted to hold her, like she'd hold me when the reality of the world set in at night, to cradle her head on my lap and sing to her just as she'd done with me—she needed to know that I loved her. I had been so hard on her, and the knowledge of this ate at my insides, even if she had no inkling of an idea as to what I truly thought. But perhaps she didn't need to. Guilt is a funny thing like that.

I could only lie there as my mom got up from the bed and headed over to the closet that held all my medical equipment, taking out a needle and tourniquet, fastening the needle to the syringe before setting it down and tying the tourniquet around her right arm, just above her elbow.

She may not have been crying anymore, but I was, I could feel it; big, fat tears ran down the sides of my face, my entire body coming alive with phantom trembles of anguish that were so strong, so potent, that I could almost see myself getting up from the bed and breaking that syringe before wrapping her in a hug and apologizing over and over. I'm sorry you lost yourself because of me. I'm sorry you didn't get to have the life you wanted. I'm sorry for being disabled. I'm sorry Mom. Please don't leave me alone.

Of course, she couldn't hear me, but then I didn't expect her to. She wasn't looking at me, and it was almost ironic—even now, when she's about to leave the waking world forever, she still couldn't find it in herself to do it.

Mom injected the morphine. She didn't say goodbye, in fact she didn't speak to me again after she did it; instead, she sat down on the floor next to my bed, rested her head back against it, and closed her eyes.

There was an anger inside me that grew ever stronger as time ticked by, eating away at the rest of my soul with every shuddered breath that escaped her now almost completely limp body. I may have never known a normal life since I was born, but I had been happy with the life we had lived—it was familiar, comfortable, perfectly fine. Mental illness is a monster, I know, I have to deal with it all on my own since I can't talk, but my mom had every opportunity to deal with this. She could walk for Christ's sake, but instead she chose to neglect me, neglect herself, and now, was essentially committing a murder-suicide since I had absolutely no one that was going to check on me for another two days. What the hell was she thinking?

God, I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry and scream and pound on the walls, I wanted to beat my mom to a pulp and demand to know why the fuck she was doing this to me. Wasn't my situation bad enough? Hadn't you stopped to think about what would happen to me? How could you be so selfish?

I watched a documentary about white torture a couple months ago.

It's considered one of the worst forms of torture, since it completely deprives your mind and body of all stimuli, essentially making you go insane. Sometimes I feel that that's what it's like to be completely paralyzed; you're trapped in the white room of your mind, with nowhere to run from the thoughts that haunt you. I wonder though, how a normal person would feel if they were placed in my body. Would they go crazy? What makes me so different from those subjected to white torture outside of their own free will?

Perhaps I was the crazy one all along. Or maybe I just got used to the monotonous shape that my daily life had formed into, both disgusted and comforted by the fact that I truly had nothing to look forward to; that wasn't always 100% true, but having no expectations afforded me the ability to be excited about something every once in a while. And now my mother has taken that from me, just like the way she took it when I was born, how everyone took it all from me, leaving me with the blood in my hands and the blame weighing heavy on my head.

Everyone else gets to take—except me. I have to give and give and give forever. When is it going to be my turn?

There were so many things I wanted to do, yeah, but I couldn't do any of them. I could do nothing but lie there with my eyes rolling back up to stare at the popcorn ceiling, with my mom's dead body beside me; I shouldn't fall asleep, I knew that, especially when I didn't have my CPAP in, but it wasn't like I could exactly keep myself from doing it. What else did I have to live for, truly? The burning in my chest ached with sharper teeth at that thought, milking more tears from my eyes and anger from the back of my mind. Fuck, I wish Tonya was here.

But she wasn't. I was alone, like always, and just as I had been born, I was going to die that way. Nobody to give a fuck. Nobody to comfort me.

The light faded from the corners of my vision, then disappeared.

[ratherbefangirling]

Summary : You choose to save him but will he do the same.

Pairing : Namjoon × Reader

Genre : Yandere,Drama, Royalty AU, Amnesia AU,

Warnings : Yandere behaviour, Betrayal, Slavery, Debt trapping, implied making out. (Idk that's it I guess)

Part 2 | 3

A/ N : Hope you enjoy this.

The polished wood of the throne room felt sullied by your steps.

Whispers decorating the court like the trees rustling in an orchard on a windy day.

Whore. Bed warmer. Shameless.

Teary eyes made it hard to look at the man sitting in front of you.

The ornaments on your wrists were nothing more than chains.

The necklace you wore was but a noose on your neck.

Namjoon looked at you coldly. Beside him his sister smirked. Entertained by something.

Still you looked straight refusing to falter under his gaze. Trying to supress the shame of being paraded.

Now he was only a stranger, who you had once thought you had known intimately.

-1 year ago-

As the daughter of the towns physician. You knew a thing or two about medicine. While your father kept you away from the gore of treatment, you often found yourself assisting him after your mother had left.

Disappeared one night on the way to her maternal home. Search for her did not last long the woods near your village were known for its animals.

You searched the woods for medicinal leaves your father had sent you to collect. When you came across a boy. In a bad condition his head bleeding. You quickly checked his pulse and breathing

"Jin-ah." You called out to your brother.

"What is it?" He asks stuffing the leaves in his satchel.

You point at the male.

"He looks like a merchants son." Your brother notes.

"Should we take him back." 

"It's the duty of the physician to help those in need right? And the towns ladies are gonna adore me for it." 

You look at him a look of disbelief and disgust that is often passed between siblings.

With much difficulty you both carry him.

"It is too late to be out at this hour for decency." Your father scolds before noting down the man you carry.

Your father decides to treat him after which you both recieve another earful of his anger.

When the morning comes Namjoon wakes up in a different environment then he could last recall.

Someones inharmonius singing woke him up.

A female voice.

"Stop it y/n. No one wants to listen to a crow first thing in the morning."

You feel like throwing a spoon at your brother but you can't for two reasons. First you do not want to anger your father any longer. Second your brother was the one cooked food and third with the famine you couldn't waste a drop.

"Why did you have to get all the good characteristics from our parents." You whine under your breath.

Your brother was a subject of envy. Good looking, a good cook, good natured.

It wasn't as if you were bad but he outshone you in all aspects and nobody let you forget it.

Namjoon closed his eyes. He had almost died as he was so close to figuring out his mother's murderer.

One thing was clear the person wanted him dead too.

"Are you awake?" The female called y/n asked entering.

Namjoon needed to stall. A perfect idea came to him.

"Yes. Who are you? Where am I?"

"My brother and I found you unconscious in the forest. My father is a healer so we brought you here. I will call my father. He will check on you. In the meanwhile breakfast"

"Yes please."

You closed the door softly. Last night you hadn't been able to see it but the man was handsome and his husky voice sent shivers down your spine.

Unlike your brother who had the flower boy kind of softness. He had sharp features, dragon eyes, thick lips.

You brought him food. He winced as he raised his arm.

"'Is it hurting?"

He nodded.

"Should I feed you?"

"If it isn't an issue." He said. His language sounded like that of the rich merchants. You wonder who he really was.

You barely managed to keep a straight face.

You had finished feeding him when your dad came and you left the room.

A few moments later your dad came out.

"He has lost his memory." Your dad explained. "He had some money with him and has requested we let him stay."

"I'm not sure letting a stranger stay in our house."

Your brother voices his concern.

"Let's let him stay for a while till he is more physically fit to go about, maybe his family will reward us for finding him." You say.

You father nods.

The boys fever rises so you are tasked with taking his care.

Changing cold cloth to keep his temperature down you give yourself a chance to look at him. You hadn't seen such a handsome boy up so close.

You had to stop yourself from caressing him.

The boy Joon you called him because it was embroidered on the clothes he had been wearing.

"Joon please help me bring water from the well."

Joon looked up from the book. You had discovered he could read and write well so your father had him copy his books.

"I am not going."

"Please joonie."

The boy was deaf to your pleas.

You sighed.

As you were on the way back. Jungkook and his goons stopped you.

"Y/n why do you do these boring things when you could be doing me instead." You frown in distaste.

Jeon Junkook was the son of the merchant who also gave out loans to people.

While searching for your mother your father had taken loan to cover expenses. He was yet to pay back. This gave Junkook time to come harass you.

"Please leave me." You say.

"Come on if you're nice to me I might make you my concubine instead of selling you in case your father fails to pay me back. "

You fumed but refused to react.

In silence you spend the rest of day not having the energy to scream at Joon who you decided to hold a grudge against because if he had come it might have stopped Jungkook from harassing you.

Namjoon noted your silent behaviour. Your brother and father were out of town to treat a patient.

Today you didn't even respond to comments on your cooking.

For some reason this didn't sit well with him.

Initially he planned to steal and escape from  this house. But for some reason he choose to stay.

He had somehow even grown fond of your out of tune singing.

At night he found you sobbing out in the courtyard.

He felt like murdering who ever made you cry. He also felt like hurting you for crying over someone that wasn't him.

How dare you do that when you had taken up all the space in his mind despite all his efforts.

You wipe your tears.

"I'm sorry did I wake you up?"

"You should be." He said.

For some reason your tears started flowing even more.

He softened.

"Y/n... my baby." He said softly and proceeded to hold you in his arms.

For the first time since your mother died someone held you. You leaned into his warmth as he stroked your hair.

"What's wrong?" He asked

You relayed your fears about becoming Jungkook's concubine.

"You're mine." He declared.

Proceeding to mark the skin on your shoulder.

"J..joon.." You whimper.

You shouldn't. You think.

He looks proud of the bruise he created.

"I know you like me." He says.

You blush.

"Don't worry I'll have you." Before you can ponder on his statement he bops your nose.

"Dream of me." He says and leaves to sleep you sit there in the moonlight shoulder exposed wondering what happened.

In the morning you are afraid he'd pretend nothing happened but instead you both are involved in a threaded game of lingering touches and gazes and flustering one another.

Often when you leave to find herbs you spent the day walking and talking though its mostly you doing the talking. When you get tired he let's you climb on his back on the condition you let him lay on your lap while you rest.

He often writes you poetry. Sometimes let's you sit on his lap while he's working.

At night he sneaks in to your room and marks you. And somedays let's you mark him.

In all this you forget Jungkook's threat. Until one day he comes with his goons and trashes the house.

Demanding the money.

Your father begs for some more time.

"I'll have her then." Jungkook declares smirking.

"Some more time." Your father requests.

"Five days prepare the money or my bride." He says and leaves.

Your father's knees give way.

Namjoon offers your father money.

Your father stares at him wide eyed.

"I found my friend a while back but I wasn't sure if it was true but now I have confirmed it I can give you enough money to pay back and still have some left on the condition you give me y/n." He bargains.

In the time joon spent with you, your father had come to trust him so he agreed not that he hadn't much choice.

The day of the wedding approached, your face glowed with happiness. Joon had shifted back to his house.

Everything was going well you couldn't believe it not only you had found the man you loved but you were going to be his woman.

You sat in your bedroom.

A knock on your door revealed your brother.

"My little y/n" He said fondly

"Jin-ah."

"You should be calling me hyung."

"But we are twins ."

"True but I came first"

"Hmph."

"The only thing you are doing first is getting married but then again he isn't half as good as me."

"Hey don't say anything about my fiance."

"Look at you already taking his side."

He then left you to attend to the guests.

You waited. Soon five minutes turned to ten and ten to an hour. The guests started whispering to each other.

Another hour passed by and soon it became apparent he wouldn't come.

You had no time to mourn as the debtors came to collect you.

You could hear your father begging them to spare you. Your brother promised he would save you.

Someone jeered at you.

"You could be happy with me but you chose to rebel. Pitiful."

You drowned in your emotions were no longer aware of the world, turning the keys so you were locked inside.

Soon you were auctioned.

A man named Jimin bought you to care for his ailing mother.

He was a kind master.

But you were a slave and that was that.

A few months had passed. Jimins mother was better in joy of her recovering your master had given you money to spend as you went out to the market.

Going to an unfamiliar market was a relief, the cherry blossoms bloomed but you refused to remember Joon. You had spent nights justifying him. Wondering whether he got caught in another accident. Verification of his name Jung Joon revealed that he hadn't existed and had been lying to you. The house he called his had been a man's called Jung Hoseok who was at a high position in the military.

The market was brimming with activity.

You eyed the pretty jewellery. You were fond of jewellery more than you were fond of anything else.

It had greatly saddened you when your father was forced to sell your mother's jewellery.

You looked at the money in your hand as you eyed the exotic belly chains.

You sighed wondering if you'd be able to earn enough to afford them before you died.

You returned to the house without buying anything.

The next morning you found a gift outside your quarters along with sweets.

You opened to find the belly chain you had been eyeing.

You almost shouted in glee.

You went to serve Jimin breakfast.

Before you could say anything.

"You look happy did you like my gift."

"It was the sweetest." You confessed even if you were confused as of how he knew. You really only interact briefly.

"Thank goodness. It's the first time I've seen you smile."

"But can I really have it. Its so expensive.  I wouldn'twant to impose." 

"No worries the king had me promoted and sent me quite a few boxes."

"Thank you my lord." You say graciously.

Would he like it?

You shake your head. Close it and tuck it safely inside your box of belongings.

In the morning the house is in frenzy your masters special guests are arriving.

The whole house is busy perfecting the place. Jimin instructs every one but the serving staff to retire.

"Don't meet their eyes." He warns solemnly.

You make way to your mistresses room.

"Y/n there you are. Settle my pillows, will you?"

Without a word you get to work.

She makes you read her a book.

A strong breeze passes as stormy clouds make way. The door opens with a whine and shuts with a boom.

"Lock my doors and windows and leave." She commands you.

You nod your head and do so quietly closing the door as you leave you crash into someone.

Pulling yourself away you bow in forgiveness remembering your masters warning.

"Ah, pretty girl what are you doing?"  A rich voice enquires.

"Taehyung, let her be she is my mother's nurse." Jimin intervenes. "Leave." He commands you.

"What's the ruckus?" You almost stop at the familiarity of the voice but you know better.

"Nothing of consequence, your highness."  Jimin responds.

The servant quarter is filled with chatter discussing the guests.

You pay no heed to it and slip to sleep.

Your eyes open to find joon laying across you. You're enclosed in his embrace.

It's a dream.

You press yourself closer it must be that voice that triggered it. You refused to deny yourself in a dream.

You wanted to scream at him, cry at him, but more than that you wanted to be with him.

Morning sun wakes you up disoriented.

So it really was a dream, huh?

Another month passes and the days turn warm.

While you weren't fond of winter working in the summer seemed unappealing.

The maids whispered amongst themselves.

Apparently the master had been engaged to the prime ministers daughter whose mother was the sister of the King.

The cooks had prepared special meal to congratulate their master.

The king had invited Jimin to his Palace for the crown Prince's birthday.

You along with another made Eunmi along with his guards were to accompany him.

He bought all of you new clothes for the visit.

Dressed in a soft baby pink, you looked quite nice.

Jimims mother gave you extra instructions for etiquette in front of royalty.

"I will not have you messing the park name."

When you entered the banquet you could spot the crown princess  Lim Jiwon and beside her your master's fiance Min Yoonji.

Despite the fact you were no one of consequence you felt under equipped compared with those ladies.

You joined the festivities. Your master had left to the throne room to give his gift to the crown prince.

Min Yoonji stood up from her seat and followed by a guard who strangely resembled your brother.

Curious you tagged along discreetly.

She entered the throne room. You saw his face clearly as he stood guard.

"Jin.."

His eyes widened as he saw you.

"Y/n...." then his face took a strange look. "Not now I'll find you later meet by the old tree at the back entrance."

You nodded phased by him. Yet you were aware the Palace was a strange place.

Full of snakes chasing their own tails.

Your mind to restless turned the delicious banquet blank.

So you went tonthe old tree to wait for your brother.

The garden was stunning and well cared for.

Afterall it was fertilised by the blood of his enemies. Not that you would no.

You found some newly grown irises.

While you had deemed them to be your favourite flower you had never seen one growing. The purple petals, some might mistake it for lavenders but those had an Aroma irises couldn't match.

You had read about them and taken a fancy. Especially when your mom had told you about the Greek goddess of similar name. The goddess of rainbow. To you rainbows were magical and you had only seen them once.

"Y/n." A voice called out softly.

You turned eyes filled with the beautiful flower and a gasp escaped your lips.

Here he stood the man of your dreams, the Prince of your nightmares.

Dressed in a gown fit for royalty.

Your legs gave away.

He came closer to hold you.

"N-no... no.. it can't be no..." 

"Y/n."

"I've gone mad Yes that must be it... I've finally snapped." You mumble to yourself.

"Your highness." A voice calls urgently.

The head eunuch.

Namjoon had gone out to the garden missing you. For some reason he had felt your absence particularly today. He was never the one for birthdays. It was all a royal parade anyway.

So he was surprised to find you. He felt irritation for you ruining his plans but more than that he felt grateful to have found you. He wanted to turn the pink of your lips into red and skin purple like your favourite flowers he had grown with care.

He had sacrificed you for you.

Most of his plans were in motion. It was only of a matter of time he'd have come to save you from the prison he had created.

But seeing you had awakened the beast he'd so hard suppressed.

Here you lay defenseless infront of him. Passed out at seeing him.

He knew winning your heart back wouldn't be easier considering the circumstances you had found out he was alive. Oh well. Namjoon was nothing but a patient man and well prepared. Always.

It wasn't like there was anybody who could take you away from him.

There wasn't anyone who could save you.

Hi how are you guys? Its been a while I guess.

NEXT

Authors Note 📝

This one was to celebrate the 250 followers landmark but people unfollowed me so um below that again. That's fine though. Still hope you enjoy.

Please let me know your thoughts.

Hope you're having a great day beautiful.

Taglist : @mwitsmejk

Update : since some of you guys liked it I'm writing a part 2, I don't know how long it might take so if you want to be added to the taglist of part 2 let me know

[peakyblindersxx]

come home with me - finn shelby x reader

a/n: you have @michaelgreys to thank for this one (& the gif!!! check her out she's amazing). s5 finn cause god damn!!1 i honestly dont have much to say about this one other than it's definitely self indulgent and not even god can help me at this point. i'm working on p4 to whiskey buisness rn as well as some requests, thank you for all the sweet comments!!

love, abi xxx

my masterlist

prompt: finn hates you so much he might want to fuck you.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, pretty fluffy cause he's baby 🥺

Working for the Shelby Company wasn’t difficult, except for one thing: Finn Shelby. You were one of the many secretaries, in charge of conveying messages, filing papers, and many other important things, such as making sure the glass decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in Tommy’s office was never empty. It wasn’t a very taxing job, but Finn went out of his way to get under your skin in every way he could. Maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t back down, having a quick retort to anything close to disrespectful that he said to you. The other brothers never said a thing to intervene, Arthur even telling you he was glad you had a backbone.

“Finn’s a cocky thing, eh? Too cocky for his own good. A girl like you’ll put ‘im in his place,” he had slurred, while you collected the letters he’d asked you to mail.

“Dunno, Mr. Shelby,” you’d mused. “Seems like he’s got some sort of problem with me.”

“Don’t even bother with that, he’s just an arrogant fuck. Probably got some sort of crush on you an’ is too shy to do shit about it. You know, first time he fucked a whore, he said sorry,” Arthur grunted. You’d chalked up his admissions to the half empty bottle of whiskey that he was clutching and the light dusting of snow on his right nostril. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if the looks Finn shot your way, though seemingly out of irritation, meant something more. You couldn’t lie, you’d thought about what it’d be like to feel the youngest Shelby brother’s bow-shaped lips on your neck, his hands on your waist. It couldn’t be true, you resolved; Arthur was just wasted and you were delusional.

Monday came, and Tommy had asked you to work in the betting shop for the next few weeks. “Make sure Finn’s not fucking up,” he had grunted, taking a long drag of his cigarette, clear blue eyes barely leaving the stacks of paper that littered his massive desk. Of course you’d agreed, but you were nervous. Something about it made your heart beat faster in your chest. You took a shot of whiskey before you left, hoping the dark liquor would help calm your nerves. Isaiah insisted on accompanying you, telling you there were too many people that didn’t like them around there and to make sure someone was always with you for the next few weeks. You were grateful for his presence, the jokes he cracked easing your mind as the two of you walked briskly along the cobblestone streets. It didn’t take long to get there, Isaiah holding the door open for you as the warm air inside the betting office washed over you. Finn turned to see who it was, a scowl tugging at the edges of his mouth once he saw you.

“Why the fuck is she here,” he drawled, sitting at his desk with his feet up, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingertips. As much as you hated to admit it, he looked fucking good, hair neatly combed back, smelling of expensive cologne in a pressed navy blue suit. He was tall, legs stretching across the desk as he sent a glare in your direction, you rolling your eyes in response.

“Tommy said,” Isaiah interjected, sensing the tension in the air. “He said you said you needed more help, or somethin’.”

“Fuckin’ christ,” Finn mumbled, taking a drag from his cigarette before putting it out on the crystal ashtray that sat on his desk, standing to grab a stack of books from one of the shelves behind him.

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the fucking plauge or something,” you retorted, Isaiah stifling his chuckle as he looked anywhere but at the two of you. Finn ignored you, instead setting the pile of books on his desk.

“Come look at this, before I change my mind,” he said, instead. You obliged, walking behind his desk to see what he was gesturing to as Isaiah excused himself, something about “gettin’ fucking plastered, mate!” Finn was easily a head taller than you, so he practically towered over you, engulfing you in a cloud of his intoxicating cologne as you stood so close to him that you could practically feel the heat emanating from his body.

“So, these are the bets, and those are the outcomes,” he explained, arm brushing against your body slightly as he pointed to the different columns written out in the log. To your chagrin, your skin prickled in response, your body unable to control itself. Yet, you pushed it down, not wanting to give Finn the satisfaction of knowing that you wanted him. God knows he’d hold it against you forever. What he was explaining was simple enough, and you were able to grasp it fairly quickly. He was all business, handing you the logs he needed you to double check, as you sank into the desk adjacent to his, pouring over the books and coming to him to confirm small corrections.

However, after a couple of drinks of whiskey (some of which you admittedly consumed), Finn started talking. Small things, like how irritating Tommy was or how much they’d made off a certain horse. He’d never opened up to you like this; it was always a snide remark that usually set off an argument, since the two of you were fairly hot-headed. This time, it was different. Finn was still looking at you, but with slightly rosy cheeks and a smile threatening to spread across his face every time you made a witty remark. This time, you liked the way he was looking at you.

***

Two thirds of a bottle later, you were both on the floor in front of the fire, laughing at something Finn had said. Admittedly, he had said it just to see you laugh. He liked when you laughed, he realized. It was much better than the irritated look on your face that he usually saw. In all honesty, it was probably his fault, he thought to himself. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but he really wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life. You sat next to him, shoulders brushing as the two of you talked, your jacket long abandoned, revealing the flimsy straps of the black lace dress. You looked so fucking pretty, he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that, right? Always wondered why you hung ‘round us lot, bunch of mean fuckers.” The words fell out of his mouth, hovering in the air between the two of you. You stared at him, slightly taken aback, but the liquor was doing the talking for both of you, it seemed.

“Look who’s fucking talking. Half the girls in Brum would gladly fuck you, even just for a night.”

Finn paused, lighting a cigarette and offering you a drag.“What about you?”

You accepted, taking a puff before passing it back. “What about me?”

He cracked a grin. “Would you fuck me?”

His bluntness took you aback, but you were too far gone to think properly. “Maybe,” you admitted, a coy smile playing at your lips. Finn’s eyes darkened, closing the distance between the two of you until his body was almost touching yours, the tension between you crackling like the fire just a few feet away.

“What about now?” he muttered, lips brushing ever so slightly against your neck, causing you to shiver. He noticed, his hands finding the curve of your hips, searing through your dress. You couldn’t help but tilt your neck back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips as Finn pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin.

“Finn,” you moaned quietly, the smile on his lips growing wider as his hands fiddled with the hem of your dress, fingertips sliding underneath to grip lightly at the soft skin of your thighs. “Fuckin’ do something already, christ.”

Finn grinned. “Always got a fuckin’ mouth on you, eh? You’re lucky I find that attractive,” he teased. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, his fingers found your silk panties, pushing them to the side to rub lightly against your clit, causing you to jolt in pleasure. You were already wet, to Finn’s satisfaction, and he had no trouble pushing a finger inside of you. The moans that were leaving your mouth were sinful, and he savored each one, watching the way you squirmed when he added another, curling them inside of you.

“Look so goddamn pretty, stuffed full of my fingers,” he crooned, sending your eyes rolling back in your head, eyelashes fluttering.

“Finn, please,” you whined, his nimble fingers deftly unzipping your dress and sliding it off, leaving you in your black silk bra and panties. Finn paused, taking a second to drink you in before pressing his lips to yours. They were softer than you could have imagined, hands gripping at your waist as he tugged at your bottom lip for access. You let him in, melting at his touch like butter.

“Want you inside me,” you mumbled against his lips, causing his muscles to stiffen as he sprang into action, pulling you on top of him, lining his already hard cock up with you. He was big, and if you weren’t already so ready for him, you might have been a little nervous. He slowly pushed inside of you, helping you sink down on top of him with one hand as he swore under his breath, using his other hand to unhook your bra, throwing it to the side and exposing your breasts to the cool air, nipples hardening at his touch.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Finn growled, unable to resist from taking one of them into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. The sound you made in response was pathetic, but fuck if it wasn’t fueling his appetite for you. He couldn’t help but push up into you, a tight grip on your hipbones, holding you up as he rammed into you, cock pressing up against your g-spot, sending your vision spinning.

“Fuck, Finn, m’gonna cum,” you cried, eyes sqeezed shut, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you. Finn grunted, somehow increasing his pace, pressing kisses to wherever he could.

“Go ahead darlin’, want you to cum all over my cock,” he cajoled, the words sending waves of pleasure through you. You couldn’t help but follow his orders, colors flickering across your eyesight. The image of you cumming just for him sent Finn over the edge, groaning your name as he finished inside of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs. You looked so fucking angelic in the firelight, he had the sudden urge to take care of you.

“Y’alright?” He asked, reaching for a rag to clean you up. You nodded, smiling softly down at him as he couldn’t help but press a kiss to your hipbone. He looked up at you, eyes full of adoration.

“Come home with me?” Finn murmured, hands fidgeting.

“Yeah,” you replied, a glow tinging your cheeks as you looked at him the same. “Let’s go home.”

[clareguilty]

Gabriel Reyes/reader, a/b/o and The Works™

this is the third kinktober prompt for this year!!!

Gabriel Reyes/fem!reader | a/b/o, marking, biting, praise, all that jazz Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~3000

Jack Morrison was getting another medal.

It was everyone’s favorite joke at high command. It seemed like no one wanted to implement any serious policy or sign an actual resolution in favor of giving the golden boy of the Omnic Crisis another fancy award.

So Jack had been stressing himself out all week trying to write an acceptance speech that wasn’t passive aggressive, and you spent too long picking out a formal gown, and Gabe had sat on Reinhardt’s desk laughing and stuffing his face with carbs and fruit because his rut was due next week.

Jack took the teasing in stride and managed to come up with a speech that wouldn’t outright offend the Prime Minster of Russia. Everyone piled into the jet to Moscow with a garment bag and a carryon and a strong cup of coffee at four am the day before the banquet.

This was normal for you. In a world after the omnic crisis, head of Overwatch’s reparations department and mated to the commander of Blackwatch. You found yourself flown across the world dozens of times a year for negotiations and assemblies and ceremonies.

You and Gabe strapped in next to each other on the jet. “I haven’t seen the dress you picked out,” he nodded his head to the garment bag.

“I guess it will just be a surprise,” you purred.

He grinned and leaned in to kiss you.

“It’s too early for this,” Ana groaned from across the aisle. Gabe shot her a toothy smile and made sure to nip at the shell of your ear. You smacked his leg and shoved him back into his own seat.

The hotel was a beautiful historic waterfront building just across the bridge from the Kremlin in the heart of the city. The five of you piled out of the black SUV that had escorted you from the airstrip and made your way inside.

The hotel manager greeted you as well as an official from the Kremlin. Jack was the main recipient of ass kissing and pleasantries, so you simply smiled and nodded and shook hands wherever necessary.

The suite was entirely too big and fancy for a two night’s stay. You and Gabe poked around for a bit, but there were no fun secrets. You took the sitting room, and Gabe set up at the desk in the bedroom as you both buckled down on your work for the day. Gabe had operatives in Bolivia he needed to check in with, and you had a meeting with representatives in London.

He found you a few hours later slumped in the armchair with your head in your hands.

“They still being stubborn?” he asked.

“They won’t budge on anything,” you groaned.

“Change into something casual. Let’s go out for a little bit.” He was already in a hoodie and dark jeans, beanie sticking out of the back pocket.

You nodded and went to find a sweater.

Gabe’s impromptu date night in Moscow turned out to be a lot of fun. Ana and Reinhardt came to meet you at a bar for a little bit, and the two of you wandered around the city until sundown.

The next day was more meetings and frustration until you had to get ready for the banquet. You and Gabe slipped past each other in and out of the bathroom as you showered and shaved and styled your hair and perfumed and moisturized.

You shimmied into the dress half an hour before the car was due to pick you up. It was slim and black, sleeveless with one band that crossed over your collarbone and shoulder. You frowned when you realized it covered your matebite, but it wasn’t a big deal.

Gabe grinned salaciously as he zipped you up, unable to resist leaning down and nuzzling into your neck. “Cool it.” You shoved him off with a giggle. “I have to make it through a whole ceremony and dinner.”

He pulled on his jacket and the two of you made your way downstairs to wait for the car.

For some reason, the event coordinators split you into three cars. Jack rode by himself, you and Gabe in one car, and Ana and Reinhardt in the last. They looked intimidating in their dress uniforms, and you felt kind of ditzy in your sexy cocktail dress next to three enormous well decorated Overwatch officers.

The ceremony was only slightly dull, and you clapped at all the right spots and pinched Gabe when he looked like he was zoning out too much.

Dinner was much more enjoyable. You had been seated with people you knew from other events and assemblies, so conversation flowed well. A string ensemble played and a few people got up to dance or mingle once they cleared their plates. You caught sight of a British Parliament member speaking with a small group of tuxedoed men, and Gabe saw the determination in your eyes. 

“Go get him, sweetheart,” he kissed your cheek and pushed you towards the Lord. You excused yourself quickly and approached the older gentleman ready to push for your negotiations to take center stage in the Palace of Westminster.

The poor Lord was not expecting to be accosted by you at a banquet, but graciously listened as you explained your struggles in negotiating reparations in London.

“You’ve got some real fire in you,” one of the tuxedoes remarked as you shook the Lord’s hand and he scampered away sufficiently cowed. He had an American accent and shiny hair. He reeked of confidence and you knew it was a combination of his nationality and his status as an Alpha.

You cocked your head nonchalantly. “Takes a lot of persistence to get anything done in Parliament.” You knew he was probably referencing the fact that you, a tiny omega, had just approached a government official and demanded that he push for your cause, but you brushed it off. Most of the time people were respectful, but you still ran into pushback every now and then because of your status.

The American laughed, tossing his head back. “And wit to match!” A waiter came by with champagne and he snatched a glass to press into your hands. “What’s your name?” he asked, placing a hand on your back and guiding you back into the crowd of tuxes.

You tensed under his touch. This wasn’t your Alpha. It was extraordinarily rude to touch anyone without permission, especially an omega. But still, you had to be polite, so you introduced yourself.

“If you ever need any help getting through to politicians, you should give me a call. I’m on the UN Peace Council, you know? I was appointed during the crisis.” That information was probably supposed to impress you. It probably would have if you were anyone else.

You nodded politely, taking a tiny sip of champagne and glancing over your shoulder to look for Gabe. You had your own gripes with the UN peace council. Jack and Gabe butted heads with them nearly every other week.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smiled, attempting to turn and address the other men.

“Here,” the American pulled out his phone. “Let me get your number. Maybe we could meet up for drinks before we both leave Moscow?”

“Oh,” you found your escape. “I left my phone back at my table.” You turned to make your way back to Gabe and Ana, but the UN asshole grabbed your arm. You knew exactly what this was. This guy probably didn’t run into many omegas in professional settings, and he thought you would just go along with everything he said because he was some big shot Alpha.

Laughable. You were a high ranking member of Overwatch. A diplomat. The mate of Gabriel Fucking Reyes.

“Just put your number in and I’ll text you,” he insisted. You struggled out of his grasp and shot him the sternest look you could manage.

He laughed again. “I love how feisty you are!”

Clearly, everyone in the vicinity was also uncomfortable with the exchange. This was not the time nor the place to be asserting dominance over an omega.

Your blood boiled. You didn’t want to make a scene at Jack’s reception -- though he probably would have loved it -- but you were seriously about to deck this guy.

“Cariña,” a familiar voice washed over you and the effect was immediate. You leaned back into Gabe’s chest, taking a deep breath to slow your heart rate. “Jack was looking for you. He wanted to introduce you to someone.”

The American Alpha puffed his chest out, clearly ready to challenge until he took one look at Gabe.

“Commander Reyes,” he greeted. All of the bravado and pushiness was gone in an instant.

“Hello.” Gabe was stiff, clearly trying to hold his tongue. His arms snaked around your waist and he leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“Would you hate me if we left right now?”

“Absolutely not,” you spun in his embrace so you could look up at him. His expression was stoic as always, but you could see the tension and the anger in his eyes.

You didn’t even look back as Gabe walked you to the table to collect your things. It was a little rude to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, and you weren’t sure if Jack had actually wanted to introduce you to someone, but Gabe looked ready to tear someone’s head off.

He stopped caring about decency the moment the car door closed.

There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver considering how enormous your mate was in the tiny sedan backseat, but he pinned you to the leather seats and kissed you like his life depended on it. You wound your fingers into his curls, gasping as his hands slid under your skirt and up your thighs. The driver coughed, and you giggled at the slow whir of the partition motor giving the two of you some privacy.

“I can’t believe he touched you,” Gabe snarled.

You shivered both at the possessive edge in his voice and the disgusting memory of the other Alpha’s hand on your arm.

“Make me forget about him,” you whispered, hooking your leg around his hips.

He rose to the challenge. Super soldier strength shredded your lace underwear, dress hiked up around your hips. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, trailing up your thigh at a torturously slow pace. He had barely sucked a mark into the skin when the car stopped. A glance out the tinted window showed that you were back at the hotel.

“Thank you!” you called to the driver in your terrible russian accent as you yanked your dress back down and teetered on your heels on the pavement. Gabe half carried you with an arm around your waist as you breezed through the lobby to the elevator.

The elevator was another brief attempt to continue. You managed to get Gabe’s jacket and shirt open before the door slid open and you were staggering down the hall.

He dragged you into the bedroom, pinning you to the bed on your stomach so he could yank down the zipper on your dress. He couldn’t keep his lips away from your neck. The moment your matebite was uncovered he dragged his teeth over the mark. A shiver ran all the way down your spine.

“You’re never covering this up again,” he growled, rutting against your hips clumsily. “I want everyone to see that you belong to me.”

The words made your stomach flip. You wriggled your way around onto your back, pushing your dress over your hips and to the floor. “You’re going to hit your rut early.”

He didn’t seem fazed. “I’ll just fuck you until we have to leave for the flight.”

You figured Ana, Jack, and Reinhardt wouldn’t appreciate Gabe in the throes of his rut on the flight back to base tomorrow, but they had probably experienced it before. You could only imagine how bad he was back during the crisis. The thought only made you wetter.

He must have sense the spike in arousal, because he settled more of his weight on top of you. “What are you thinking about?” he demanded.

“You. During the crisis. Alpha Commander Gabriel Reyes.” You trailed a finger down his chest. “Were your ruts worse than they are now?”

He smirked. “They’ve gotten worse again since meeting you.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, mustering the last of your coordination to get Gabe undressed. He made sure you were laid out comfortably on the bed -- grabbing a few pillows to place under your hips and head -- before sinking all the way inside you to the swell of his knot.

Gabe always fit inside you so well. The perfect stretch. And he filled you so deep when he knotted you. You knew that his ruts could get intense, and you would probably be exhausted and sore by the end of it. Still, you had been mated for a few years now, so you had figured out how to manage.

“You feel so good.” You closed your eyes and lost yourself in the situation.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to knot you so good.” He rocked forward, teasing you with the stretch.

“Please,” you begged, nails scratching at the shaved hair at the back of his head.

He shuddered and set an impossible pace as he began to fuck you. Sometimes you forgot that you weren’t just mated to an Alpha, but to a super soldier. No one else could fuck you like he did.

“You want my knot? Want me to breed you full? Want me to remind you who you belong to?” His words were low against you skin as he kissed along your neck. One of his hands was rubbing your clit, the other holding your thighs open so he could reach deep inside you with every thrust.

“Yours,” you gasped. “I’m yours.”

His teeth found the unmarked skin of your neck, just above your collarbone -- opposite the side of where your matebite was. The skin was practically electrified, especially when Gabe was fucking you like this. He didn’t bite down, but the sensation alone was enough to have you coming on his cock.

“Fuck,” he growled. “That was so good for me, baby. You’re so perfect.”

“Do it,” you begged. “Bite me. Please.” It was a little unorthodox. Normally couples only exchanged one bite. A bite on both sides was usually the sign of a triad or a pack. But you had just been touched by another alpha and Gabe was fucking you so good and you wanted him in every way possible.

He blinked, trying to think through the haze of his rut. “You want that?” He didn’t even wait for you to respond. The thought alone had him spilling inside of you, and he pulled you onto his knot. His teeth found that same patch of sensitive, unmarked skin, and he bit down just as he locked inside of you.

Nothing felt better than coming to the sensation of being claimed. It was the strongest orgasm you had ever experienced.

“Fuck you’re perfect. My perfect little omega. You wear my marks so well. Everyone is going to know exactly who you belong too.”

You couldn’t respond. Too busy marking Gabe’s chest with hickeys and lovebites. He was too massive for you to reach his neck, but you would make do. You were still coming down off the intense rush of endorphins, and everything was a little fuzzy and felt just a little too good too much too fast. You had come twice in less than the span of a minute, and Gabe was only just getting started.

He soothed the aching bite, holding you close as you were locked together. His knot probably wouldn’t go down for a while, but he was less riled up than before now that he had satisfied himself somewhat.

“I love you,” he kissed the top of your head, rolling so you could lay on his chest.

“I-” You cut yourself off, blushed, and buried your face in his pecs. You would happily die there.

“Yes?” He was curious now. You weren’t usually shy with him.

“I’ve been working on something. It’s super embarrassing.” You didn’t look up.

He lifted your head, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What’s embarrassing? I just dragged you out of a dinner party at the Kremlin so I could fuck you. I think I’m the more embarrassing of the two fo us.”

You laughed and kissed his chest right above his heart. Mustering all of your courage, you found your voice:

“Te amo. Me encanta pertenecer a ti. Tú eres mi mayor alegría.”

Your accent was decent, but you had no clue if your grammar was correct. The words were unfamiliar and clumsy, even though you had practiced them a hundred times. Spanish was not a language you were familiar with, but you knew that Gabe had grown up hearing it. You wanted to try and learn for him.

He understood immediately what you were tying to say, and you could feel the rumble of his laughter beneath you.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you whined, smacking him lightly on the side.

“I’m sorry,” he grabbed your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. “It was very sweet. I love you too.”

“I need a lot more practice,” you pouted.

He petted your hair, staring at you with a dopey, lovestruck expression. “I can’t believe you let me bite you again.”

You shrugged, feeling the pull and ache of the new mark in the motion. “We can let one of them fade.”

He smirked. “What if I like you like this?”

You bared your own teeth. “Can I return the favor?”

You weren’t expecting to rile him up, but the words were enough to make his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You good to go again?”

You nodded, pushing up to a seat so you could ride him. He grabbed your hips, holding tightly as you slowly rocked against him. You knew the pace was probably no where near what he needed, but you wanted to take your time.

He didn’t give you the opportunity, rolling to pin you beneath him again and dragging your hips up to his. “You wanna bite me? You better earn it.”

[mrsmaybank]

Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me. 

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing 

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all.  Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak. 

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame. 

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red. 

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie. 

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true. 

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along. 

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it. 

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted. 

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god. 

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.” 

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles. 

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-” 

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.  

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.”  Spencer heard you say. 

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.” 

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.” 

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?” 

He smiled, “Yes.” 

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.” 

“You went to Columbia?” he asked. 

“I just graduated.” 

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself,  “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.” 

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.” 

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.” 

Your eyes went wide, “12?” 

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.” 

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.” 

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare. 

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

  “Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did. 

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.” 

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said. 

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier. 

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.” 

-----------------------------------

After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team. 

In the bullpen: 

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato. 

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear. 

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk. 

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back. 

On the jet: 

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board. 

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.”  He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book. 

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances. 

Even in front of you: 

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring. 

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on  heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!” 

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…” 

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer. 

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid.  She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?” 

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.” 

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

-----------------------------------

Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name. 

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth. 

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile. 

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. 

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.” 

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?” 

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.” 

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him. 

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass. 

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.” 

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.” 

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

--------------------------------------

Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music,  and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated. 

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it. 

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves. 

“It feels great.” You nodded. 

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.” 

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--” 

--------------------------------------------

You and Spencer just understood each other. 

[libraford]

I owe you all a story about kittens. But its about... a little more than kittens. It's a long one.

I want to tell you all about the kittens, which took place in 2019. But in order to do so, I have to take you back even further, to March of 2018, and concludes in 2021. Because it's about kittens, but it's also about business and all the things that can go wrong.

In March 2018, tragedy struck. The owner of the flower shop died unexpectedly, leaving the business to four capable managers. One of those managers was the man that had hired me, leaving a power vacuum at our location. Grandpa was not the first choice to take the lead, but she stepped up and she became manager. In my opinion, there was no better person for the role: she had only ever worked in the flower industry (assuming we're not counting the one week in 1976 when she worked at a pizza parlor,) and as such she knew the business inside and out.

Prior to this, she had taught all of the designers and practically ran the place when the boss was out, so it was the next logical step. And it was good.

Of course, we had our ups and downs. What I did not realize when I joined the flower shop is that the flower industry is volatile- there are so many variables that went into the creation of floral pieces and if there is one misstep you can be set back anywhere from a day to several thousand dollars. There are late deliveries, there are frightening brides, there are missing piñatas… van fires, flower snobs, color corrections, failed psychics, friends, enemies…

You can set the bar so very low and yet…

The rise and fall of drama at this particular flower shop could be dictated into hours and minutes because sometimes you need to hire people just to fill that space. Grandpa was on record by saying 'if they can walk, talk, and spell their name, hire them.' Even so, we were critically understaffed most of the time because if you hire anyone you're going to get a lot of quitters.

It's a tough cycle to break, and our power was limited.

And we had bigger fish to fry: we had an average of thirty funerals, two weddings, and well over six hundred deliveries per week. Business was booming and we just had to keep up- if you make it one week after the next it doesn't feel so bad.

By March of the following year, the four owners had whittled down to two: my former boss and the former webmaster. We had a district manager now, some kind of accounts position… things like that. It was kind of astonishing that before this, all the work had been done by a single man. But the secrets to his success had died with him.

Things were looking good, actually: the flower business was full of life! We were doing all kinds of special events, starting contracts with businesses and getting our name out there. Drama still plagued us, but as far as I'm aware, that's par for the course for flower shops.

Then, in May 2019, tragedy struck. A tornado ripped straight down the street of our headquarters, demolishing the greenhouse and the historical building that it all started in. No one was injured, but the damages were devastating. Despite all this, we kept working.

We worked hard. And hard. And hard.

And though the new warehouse wasn't slated to be finished until 2021, we reached an equilibrium where things were okay.

But before I get to that, I made a promise to you.

It was a hot day in August and I was walking into my closing shift at 10am. After two years of working with roughly the same people, you got to learning how to tell when something was happening. I walked in to everyone staring at me and acting 'natural.' It never looks natural.

In the back of the store, there was a box that Cherry was standing very purposely in front of.

"What's in the-"

"Sh!" Grandpa spied through the window in the cooler door as someone swung out with a purchase. "Did you find something you like," she asked the customer, trotting over to help him at the register.

"What's happening," I asked Blue.

"Nothings happening, it just kind of… happened."

"Blue… what does that MEAN?"

"There's a customer here, I can't talk about it."

I am bursting at the seams to know what's going on.

Grandpa fared the customer well and went back to her station behind the computer. "Open the box," she said.

Ominous, but okay. I go over to the box and Cherry steps aside. There's something moving inside the box and I wonder if Pam's daughter had folded herself into a box to ride out a panic attack again. I carefully opened the flaps of the box and accidentally disturbed the sleep of-

Four.

Tiny.

KITTENS!

Oh my god, it was the most adorable thing in the world and the poor things were screaming because they had only known the world for a few weeks and everything was strange and blurry and all they knew to do was cuddle for warmth and scream. The box consisted of two black kittens, one tuxedo kitten, and a white seal-point with terminal eye goop.

They immediately started climbing up my arm.

"Not that I'm not thrilled, but… why?"

"Stray cat left her babies out by my pond and wasn't just gonna leave the little fuckers," Grandpa said. The seal-point made it all the way up my shoulder to scream in my ear and stare at me with one clear blue eye. "That one's name is Pop-eye. He's my favorite."

"Jake doesn't get along with them," I surmised. Jake was Grandpa's Australian Shepherd. He was old, blind, deaf, and losing his sense of smell. And he was ornery.

"First thing he did was sit on Pop-eye. So they're gonna be at the shop during the day until we can get them all homed. Know anyone that needs a kitten?"

So, for awhile, we had shop cats. One of the all black twins had been claimed the very next day, but the rest of them were with us for some time. We got very good at feeding them all every hour on the hour and eventually they settled into accepting that 'mom' was seven different people.

In the meantime, we had to hide the three of them from visiting management.

This was not my first round with cat-related crimes.

The district manager, Puppet, was due to come for a visit any time that week. He was supposed to come once a month for a routine check in, and there were only ten days left in August. Likewise, we had to hide the kittens from the customers on the off chance that one of them was a secret shopper.

Backtracking once more to explain: the company had shelled out money to pay a third party to send secret shoppers to grade us on a rubric and also whatever they thought was appropriate. The grades were cleanliness, customer service, how knowledgeable we were of products, things like that. If we got above 90%, there would be a bonus in our next paycheck.

Sounds great, right?

The spies could decide that anything wasn't up to their standard. One woman went on and on about our 'black wall,' which was the outside of our cooler and I'm sorry but… that's not changing. There was a complaint that the table at the front used to showcase our bridal seemed out of place and odd. There dirt in the flower pots… where dirt goes. Corporate reads those comments.

So keeping the children out of sight of the customers and any visiting management became our priority.

'So just keep them in the break room,' I hear you, the reader, suggest.

If you've never owned cats, it is imperative for you to know that they are mostly comprised of spine, and only the smallest of openings will deter them from squeezing into parts unknown. Cats are semi-solids. Kittens are semi-solids with a sense of adventure and little tiny needles for fingernails.

And you can't just tape the box shut.

So… they got out. Well, two of them got out. The tuxedo awoke to find that her brothers had gone exploring without her and did the sensible thing, which was cry about it.

Mood.

I have named this cat Brood X Cicada. The black one can be named Abyss. I'm great at naming cats.

Lucky for us, they're only a few weeks old and walk kind of like little tin soldiers. It took all of five minutes to pry Pop-eye from a piece of Styrofoam and locate Abyss exploring an old toolbox. However, by the time I'm done cat collecting, Brood X Cicada had toddled off in search of her brothers and I'm out of hands to hold kittens in. I stuffed Abyss into my apron pocket and tried to save X from eating plastic.

It is at this moment that Cherry came in to tell me that Puppet the District Manager was on his way, and saw that I was helplessly juggling kittens. Abyss was climbing out of my pocket, eager to join his siblings in the high and exalted position that was my hands.

"We need these kittens out of here," I said. "Who hasn't been on lunch yet?"

Cherry dodged her head back into the workshop. "Hey Key, you been on lunch?" Pause. "You wanna go now?"

Key came into the back room and I handed her the box of kittens. "Take these, in your car. Go to burger King or something, I don't care. Puppet cannot see these. If anyone asks, you're on a route."

Key held the box and took a moment to appreciate the series of events that lead to her being handed a box of kittens in a 'Take this, don't ask questions' kind of matter.

Puppet was in the front door as Key was out the back and we successfully avoided a serious mistake. His visit was only an hour and she walked back in without anyone the wiser.

We made it through the big challenge, now to continue looking for homes for them. Ms. Crow found a friend of a friend of a friend that was excited to take Abyss from us. After some interrogating my friends, I found someone who knew someone who could take Pop-eye and Brood X Cicada. (They were renamed Hocus and Pocus.)

Grandpa cried for every single one of them that had to go. And I remembered my very first day of working there when she introduced herself as 'The Tinman.' What a liar, the softy.

Our days went on kitten-free, the management none the wiser.

It was December when I got the feeling that I should be taking photos of my work to build a portfolio. Something wasn't right, I felt. I couldn't say what it was that put me on edge, but I could only say that all was not well. I took photos of everything that I was proud of, and I was proud of a lot of things. By February, I had over fifty items that I could show off to a potential studio. And I thought- in March, I should start looking to see if other shops are hiring.

And in March 2020, tragedy struck. Our state went into lockdown on March 13, dictating that all non-essential businesses close and non-essential staff be laid off. There were two days where none of us knew what was happening, if we had jobs or if that job was safe.

They laid off all but three designers and Grandpa but kept most the drivers, changed our hours to 8-5, closed Sundays. Canceled weddings. No walk-ins. The three designers were Blue, Red, and me.

Blue was worried about her children. She resigned.

Red's wife was worried about him and harassed him into quitting.

And then there was one.

There's a series of poems I wrote in my journal about being an essential worker during lockdown. There's adorable little doodles of skeletons around the margins, festooned with flowers. They all go something like this:

We are the Skeleton Crew.

We once were seven but now are two

We don't know what to do

So we just work, work, work.

Many may wonder how a flower shop would be considered an essential business. The answer is funerals. We were allowed to remain open because of our relationship with the funeral industry. And sad to say: the industry was booming.

And I did all of it. I made every spray, every 'get well soon' vase, every 'happy quarantine' bouquet. I called angry brides to see if they could postpone, I dealt with everyone's grief and uncertainty.

All the flowers that arrived at US Customs through Italy were destroyed because we didn't know whether coronavirus was transmitted through physical contact and there's no way to sanitize flowers. Not without killing them.

It was me and Grandpa. That was it. Ten funerals a day, and everything else. Flowers were more important than ever: you couldn't be there, so you sent flowers. And flowers and flowers and flowers…

I couldn't leave now. I was important, I was needed.

The work became overwhelming for both of us and we began hiring back some of our staff. Some came back right away, bored out of their skulls having to spend time at home. Can't relate. Key never responded, Cherry was pregnant and shouldn't be out of the house.

Dandy came back, Kali came back, Astra came back. Eventually, Blue. After a month of just me and Grandpa, there was almost a full crew and it was enough for us to get through an average week. It took us a month on our bare knuckles but we finally weren't shouldering the responsibility of seven people.

But we still didn't know jack shit about the future there.

In May, the 'economy opened up,' which is a strategic way of saying that people got tired of never leaving the house and stores were pressured to open back up again before a vaccine was released under threat of… you know what? This isn't a story about how America responded to the coronavirus poorly and you can probably find a better thinkpiece about it written by someone with facts and feelings if you want to squeeze yourself behind a pay wall.

This is about workers rights and kittens, two things that are far more important than the economy.

We got 'Hero Pay,' which was two dollars extra per hour and damn did I grasp onto that with the tendons in my wrists. I had never been paid $12 an hour for anything in my life. They started talking about permanent raises, and benefits, 401K, pregnancy leave… and I started thinking… maybe I could stay. Maybe I can stay here for awhile and it won't be so bad now that I'm getting paid actual human wages. Maybe it will be okay.

Life returned to an uneasy normal while we navigated mask laws, sanitation regulations, safety screens, and daily temperature checks. There are stories to tell about some less than great customers we'd had as people realized that they weren't coping with the pandemic as well as they thought, but they deserve their own entries.

We had a revolving door of open positions. If it wasn't a designer it was a driver or both. People weren't ready to come back to work yet but we still had a business to run. People asked if they could perform this job remotely. I'm not sure how one does flowers from home.

It was August when we started feeling the roots of our problems seep into the foundation.

Grandpa's pride and joy was her funerals. She had spent thirteen years building a relationship with the funeral homes in the area to make sure they trust us and our work. If anything was wrong, even a hair out of place, they knew they could call us and have it fixed before the visitation.

"We want unity across the board on our products," Puppet said. "If you're doing the sprays one way and others don't look the same, it doesn't look very good for Oldman Funeral Home, which has locations in all our cities, does it?" He swept his bangs out of his eyes, which was strange tell but we weren't sure for what.

"Okay," Grandpa said. "Schedule a time for me to go down and I'll teach them the way we do them."

"Okay, then."

She went down, prepared to show the crew in the warehouse what 40 years in the business was capable of, only to be met with a strange kind of resistance.

Their head designer greeted her and immediately started instructing her on how he makes sprays. Grandpa, confused, blinked at him with no words. When he was finished, she picked up her clippers and began making her own.

"That's not how we do it," he said. She was met with criticism after criticism. "That's not enough flowers, you're putting them in wrong, you're still making it one-sided. Why did you put the bow there, this looks nothing like our products."

She stood back after his barrage of blows to the ego. "I guess I'm a little confused."

"I'll say."

"Am I teaching you or are you teaching me?"

"I'm teaching you," he said. "Since they're going to all be made here from now on, they want me to show you how we make them in case of emergency."

She let that simmer. "That's not what I was told."

"You didn't think you were supposed to show me how you do it, did you? That doesn't make any sense. Why would we want to look like yours?"

"Oh, I dunno… maybe because we've kept up 30 accounts for 13 years and your location just lost your very last one because you can't make their delivery times and they're across the damn street."

This was how we learned that corporate was planning on taking our funerals from us.

Funerals were something I was immensely proud of. My ability to turn out a thousand dollar funeral order with limited stock was a subject of envy. I could take a phone order, make the flowers, and the deliver it all by myself within an hour. I was good. We were all good. And we trained anyone that stayed longer than two months how to do this because we wanted every person to be able to fix any problem.

And they wanted to take that away from us.

And they did. Because who was going to stop them?

'But what does that matter to you,' I hear you, the reader, ask. 'Surely this meant less work for you!'

Ah, but for the sprays to get to us, they had to come on a truck. Making them in-house meant that we knew we had them. We had to put our trust in corporate to deliver the goods to us by 7 am or we would have to make them day of.

There were days when the truck didn't come, or where only half the pieces were delivered, or a spray got left in the workshop an hour away. At least once a week, often more.

But you know… we adapted. You just schedule more openers to make sure no one is doing it alone and hope to God that you have all the flowers you need to make it. Which you could never anticipate how many flowers you would actually need because them taking our funerals was supposed to reduce the amount of stock flowers we got as well.

Mornings were nightmares, but we adapted.

Another visit, Puppet told Grandpa that she should get all weekends off. All the other managers do. He suggested that I learn to run routes so she can have weekends, and I said okay. I'll learn it.

I got real acquainted with the map of Ohio, and I hated it. I was a weekend manager with no real managerial power. If someone needed a refund, I had to write a note for Grandpa to email the accounts manager because she wouldn't take requests from anyone that wasn't a manager. Everything just waited until Monday. What was the point of me? I couldn't design while managing and I couldn't fix what was broken, so why even have a weekend manager? Let the animals loose in the zoo and it probably would have been a better fit.

But I powered through. I adapted.

Throughout all this, spreadsheets. Spreadsheets, spreadsheets, spreadsheets. Completely pointless spreadsheets that we were bound to fill out all day every day. They had simple purposes: inventory. You filled one out to take count of the specials so you knew how many there were. Then you had to count again to put them in the system so that they knew how much we had. Then you had to go back and count them again and put that number in the computer so they knew how much to make and send tomorrow.

I spent an hour each day counting and recounting the flowers in the far-off and futile hope that the counts would remain accurate to the end of the day (which they did not because the call center consistently used the wrong codes) and that the stock would be replenished properly in the morning (it was not.)

An hour was lost each day to this and it accomplished nothing, yet they always yelled at Grandpa if the counts were off or it was late. Why stress a system that does jack shit?

And every time there was a new feature or there was a new… thing, oh look! Another goddamned redundant spreadsheet that served no purpose.

But we adapted. We created a rhythm.

Show up early at 6:30 to make sure everything got in, make everything that didn't, get the drivers routed, pull routes for the third party deliveries, process same-day orders, data entry for the funeral consolidated. Then at 7, when the phones start ringing…

Okay, so before I forget:

Instead of installing a new phone line and hiring a few more call center people like a normal company would, our headquarters decided it would save us money if call overflow rerouted to the next available phone line, regardless of which location the phone was at. So we would get calls for the Kentucky store asking questions about what that store has and for the sake of preserving confidence in our brand we were supposed to pretend that we were the Kentucky store. We're just supposed to know or assume to know what each store had in stock because there's no way that could ever backfire.

It was… another thing to yell at us for. And boy did they, because they were listening in on our calls. Not to like… coach us on how to do better, but to tell us we were wrong. Sometimes they would call one of us on the other line to tell someone currently on the main one that they said something wrong. They also would straight up lie and scold us for calls we didn't take. The phones system, was simply a mess.

...so when the phones started up at 7am, and one person is designing, one person is taking unending phone orders, Grandpa is doing damage control. By 8, we have most of last nights orders figured out and it's time to start on same day orders and tomorrow's orders. It's too early to do inventory now because they'll yell at us for doing it too early.

By 9 we have our second wave of same day orders and next day orders, the rest of the world realizes we're open and starts walking in. That requires the attention of an entire person. We're at this point also taking out trash, breaking down boxes, disinfecting, sweeping the cooler.

Typically, there were only two openers on any given day, which meant most of this was all being handled by Blue or me.

By 10 we've caught up, we can do the inventory now without getting yelled at by the four heads at corporate. We're on route #3 by now and someone probably had to go to the same place twice because the orders came in late.

At 11, a crisis has probably happened. Something dropped, something wilted, something wasn't what they imagined. Someone has to go fix it, and that someone was usually me because I knew my way around town better than the other transplants.

This typically returned me to the shop around 1pm, which meant it was time for lunch, bringing me to 2. 3 o'clock was the cutoff for any next day orders to be sent to corporate, which meant that if there were any funeral orders taken for the morning, they would have to be made in-house. This included sprays, which takes half an hour to an hour depending on how complicated it was and if we had the materials and how much else we needed to make for the next day. Or how busy we were.

There was always something called in at the last minute, taking us to 4 and then 5 o'clock, when the openers went home and the same-day orders were cut off.

But see, that was when we stopped taking orders, not when we stopped processing orders. So if an order was placed for the same day at 4:59, it may not go through until 5:30. And by 5:30, chances are you've sent your drivers home for the day. Which means calling the customer to apologize and explain why something can't be sent out today, and no one wants to hear that they fucked up by sending it out late.

So, on more than one occasion, I had to personally deliver flowers on my way home from work in my personal car, thirty minutes out of my way because if we miss a delivery by God will we hear about it. And it was always some damn $25 arrangement with 'God Loves You' written on the tag, hardly worth the gas to Johnstown.

The irony of it being delivered by the witch was lost on no one.

If that didn't happen and the screen was clear, the night was easy and all we had to do was clean up and watch the door.

Unless a last minute order for the next day came in, which was about half the time. All of this for $11 an hour. (Once they got rid of the Hero Pay, it went back down to $11.)

That was an average, unexciting day for us. You got used to those kinds of stresses, but every day I came home and I was so tired and sore that I couldn't move. I started walking with a cane, had a low-grade fever most days, and my hands looked like I'd taken to them with a cheese grater.

But I powered through. I adapted.

Then it was December. The owners had always been generous with Christmas bonuses, handing everyone an envelope of cash. Mine was $500. This was the largest amount of cash that anyone had ever handed me (feel bad for me later.)

And then it was Grandpa's turn, but there were no envelopes left. It had to be a mistake, she thought. She didn't get paid very much for all the work she put into the shop, so she was counting on that bonus to buy presents for her grandchildren. It… it… had to be a mistake, right?

"I didn't get a bonus," she said. "I thought the accountability didn't take effect until January," she said to Puppet.

Before he opens his mouth again, I have to explain yet another thing.

In September, there was a meeting. Now that we were working on benefits and bonus programs and other things to make sure the staff stays, they needed to put in accountability measures for the managers. Effective January 1, managers are reflected by the income of their store, the number of returns, accidents in company vehicles, and high turnover rates.

Pick one of those attributes and decide its bullshit to begin with, and I'm about to show you the entire steer.

"We had to make an example of someone," he said. "So that the other managers know we're serious."

She was being personally punished for a car wreck that happened in 2019 even though she fired the guy that was in it. We had too many returns, he said, but most of them were sent to us from corporate. She was personally held responsible for the high turnover rate during an economic crisis AND a goddamned pandemic… because they needed to make an example out of someone.

And her grandkids didn't get presents this year because of it.

She cried. The last time I saw her cry was when we were saying goodbye to the kittens. It's not the same.

But she got up every day and listened to them scream at her while we counted and counted and recounted the fucking Christmas specials because the numbers weren't right and we couldn't make them right because someone in the call center couldn't figure out the codes and in their eyes it was our fault, too- we had to be stealing the flowers or something.

"It sucks and then its over," she said. It was how she dealt with holidays: "It sucks and then its over."

We were all angry for her. I got asked to go to the headquarters and help them mass produce more fucking specials and I offered the beat them up for her and she told me not to get involved. Head down, do the work, get it done.

One of the call center girls died of a heart attack a few days before I was due to help them mass. We were supposed to go to her funeral, but we all missed it because there was so much work to do.

Wait, let me back up… again. The company gave us all life insurance. The number we were quoted on our life insurance policy was $10,000, which seems like a lot but in the funeral business it's not. Your average funeral will eat up most of that, if not all. It's very expensive to die right now.

At least… we all thought it was $10k. I was certainly told $10k.

Turns out it was $1k, which isn't enough to buy you a box for your remains. The call center crew ended up crowdsourcing the rest- she didn't have much family.

And none of us could go to the funeral because we were working.

I worked two twelve hour shifts in that warehouse making the same goddamn centerpiece over and over again while a Frenchman in a scarf told me I was doing it wrong, while everyone was grieving on a time crunch.

I really should have beaten them up.

But we got through Christmas, for what it was worth. We found Grandpa some sales that she could get gifts from and we all worked together to make sure we were okay through it. I mean, we weren't- it was blind leading the blind. But we tried.

And then it ended. "It sucks and then its over," she'd always say.

And into January we go and we're back into the stupidity of trying to fight with hq about funerals. I'm constantly told that if we needed certain things we should have ordered them.

I… did. I did. I ordered everything we needed every damn day and it still never came because the left hand and the right hand can't even coordinate enough to pull off a high-five. But it can't be their fault. It has to be Grandpa's somehow.

Now during the week of Christmas, Grandpa had to take an extra day off because she got sick. It wasn't Covid, thank goodness. I can imagine it was a stress-related issue, but it's not my business. Due to the holiday, this put her at under 40 hours for the week.

So they paid her hourly.

...which is extremely illegal to do to a salaried employee, especially one that works way more than 40 hours a week with no overtime.

And then they told her that she'd already lost her quarterly bonus because of a fender-bender that happened on my watch, and because she lost 39 employees last quarter.

I write everything down. I keep a journal. I cannot find 39 employees, even going back the entire year… during a pandemic. They have to be making this up. They have to be because there is no way they can hold the dude that was fired for literally sleeping in the men's room against her.

And I was close to just telling them all that… when my grandma died.

I'm not getting into it, really. Because you know… she was 96 years old and… it happens. It's sad, but it happens. But the relevant point to make is that I was given an… inheritance. It wasn't a lot. Grandma wasn't loaded. But it would be enough for me to keep afloat for awhile if I ever needed to.

When I told my girlfriend, she said: 'you could quit your job.'

And I didn't want to think about that because the flower shop needed me. I was important there. I was special. And Valentine’s Day was just around the corner.

But I was thinking about it. I thought about it every day.

A week before Valentines Day, Grandpa was inconsolable. She had to leave work because her dog, Jake, wouldn't stop bleeding. She needed to get him to the vet.

Two hours pass and Blue gets a message asking her to come help her move the dog. Grandpa lives alone and she's not very strong.

Blue doesn't like dogs. She was bitten by one the first time she ever made a delivery.

And I am known for exceptional physical strength. So I went.

When I arrived, Grandpa was a mess. I had never seen her cry so much, and it wouldn't stop. And I was trying to be strong, but it's hard. Jake was still alive, but bleeding. He was confused and upset, and blind and deaf. He barked, he growled, and he lunged… but always pulled back when his legs buckled from the pain.

I had her grab a blanket and we rolled him onto it, using that to lift him. He thrashed and growled and snapped at me while we walked him towards the door, but he wasn't getting out of the wrap we had him in.

As we're out the door, I noticed a man at the neighboring house. He raised his hand in greeting, but lowered it in confusion.

"Grandpa, is it alright if I get him to come help while you bring the car around?"

The best she could do was nod.

"Yeah, sorry, to bug you but can I ask for a little help here?" He looks at what we're doing and drops his trash can lid to come help. "Yeah, just take that end there and we're gonna ease him into the car when she comes around."

He nodded, took the ends, and we tucked a very confused Jake into the back seat. I thanked the neighbor, Grandpa sped off, and I went back to work feeling extremely odd about it.

That was the first time that I'd ever met the dog: on his way to be put down.

I know it seems weird to tell that story, but there's a reason. Part of it is symbolic. Part of it has to do with kittens. But we're not there just yet.

So now it's February and it is crunch time for Valentine’s Day. We have no earthly idea what this holiday is going to look like because past experiences have us anticipating a large number of walk ins, but state regulations have put a limit of six customers inside the store at any one time. We were never given any… instructions on how to enforce that rule, so we just kind of vaguely set out roles for who has to be the bouncer at the flower shop.

But before all of that, we had to make 275 two-dozen red rose arrangements in bowls. Based on our sales last year and general growth, we were expecting something close to five hundred deliveries on our busiest day. If I wasn't making them, I was counting them. And I was counting, and I was counting, and I was counting… every hour, just like it was at Christmas. We used up every single red rose in the place and came up short.

To which we were scolded: we must have used the roses they sent us for other orders because there was no way the error could have been on their end! Their inventory was impervious to mistakes. Somewhere between the warehouse and our store, twenty-five packs of roses went missing! And why is it only our store that has these problems? Clearly it must be our fault- a store full of thieves and liars and delinquents.

They ended up sending more just because… you know… they care. I guess.

And every hour, they needed a number of something and I counted, and counted and counted…

I think it was February 8 that I started crying every day. When I slept I was stiff as a board because I made so many mistakes throughout the day that the idea of coming to work the next day just to make more mistakes made me lock up entirely. There was no way to relax. There was no winding down from a hard day of work because my body could not move anymore.

I felt like I was made of splintering wood.

I had a dream around this time that I quit my job. I was so happy. I thought about it almost every hour.

So I stayed out of the way at work, picking up cleaning projects because at least there I could be useful and it was dark enough in the cooler that if I started crying no one had to see it.

That cooler was so clean. I wouldn't recommend eating off of it because I used an entire bottle of bleach to clean the floor.

If we're not counting the constant barrage of demands from corporate to count, count, count; Valentine’s Day was worryingly uneventful. Previous holidays were chaotic: filling the requests of the most desperate and clueless men with deep pockets and expensive tastes. Corralling the temporary drivers and make sure no one gets into any crashes or… uh...tries to sell unregulated merchandise from their trunks. Trying to decide what "Malibu Barbie Pink" meant for that one customer who comes in every six months and orders it but has rejected every color pink on the spectrum that our store has ever offered.

On this one… nothing important happened.

We were… slow.

Grandpa started sending people home early because there weren't many orders. We ran out of projects to do.

Sounds great, right?

...heh…

Corporate would like to know why our store is under projected sales by over 200, as if we have any say in how many people buy from us. Like we personally called all our typical customer base and told them not to come to this store. "Yes, hello Mrs. Penderghast? I'm sorry we can't fill your Valentine's Day order this year because we suck balls and don't want your business. Have a nice weekend. Say hi to the grandkids for me."

I don't… fucking KNOW! I don't work in PR! I'd ask the people in that department if they know what happened but… that's the owners. So who really is the fuckup here? Not me, that's for fucking certain! I cleaned the cooler. That's all I did all weekend was clean the Gods damned cooler because there wasn't enough work to go around so I made work for myself.

And then: "Why are the counts off," asked Mt. Rushmore. See, we called them that because between the owners, Puppet, and the head designer we had four white men looking down at us while we did all the work and built their success on the backs of their forefathers. Well… to me it was anyway. To everyone else it was four dudes that looked down on you.

"Why are the counts off?"

Oh, the COUNTS are off? Well, let me just drop everything I'm doing right now and count them for the third time in the past hour because that takes fucking priority.

"There's 95 specials missing from your inventory. Where are they?"

...okay, 95 is a lot. But it was also kind of hard to know how they were 'missing' when we'd sold all of the 275 that we made. How can they be missing if we sold them.

"We need to know where they are."

We don't know where they are. Because we sold all of them. The math didn't add up.

But they hounded us about it like we'd stolen them and resold them on the street corner. Which, to their defense, had happened once (but Sugar stopped doing that when her corner was taken over by the woman who accused Jay of being a demon.) But 95 is a huge number, and these arrangements were a foot wide and two feet tall. Someone would have noticed if a 100x200 foot square opened up in the cooler.

We literally could not know what the fuck they were talking about.

And the truth was extremely stupid: those 95 pieces were redeliveries. When someone has an issue with their order, like it didn't come or it was left out in the snow and got damaged or… someone put the name of their ex on the card instead of their wife… we send a replacement. But depending on who took the phone call, a person might use the wrong code and put it in for 'redeliver' instead- which counts it as another order.

We weren't missing 95 arrangements. We had 95 redeliveries. They hounded us about inventory for two days over a clerical error.

I decided I'd had it. We were going on a full week of crying every time I had a moment alone. They had made us feel like everything that went wrong was our fault: from low turnout to high turnover, missed deliveries and trashed sprays, lost accounts and new grievances…

But did they ever say a Gods damned thing about how hard we worked? How good we were? About how great a team we were under pressure? We once pulled together an entire wedding in fifteen minutes. My ass carried this store through the pandemic. I have done… so much.

So fucking much.

And yet it's our fault.

I had been reasoning with myself that I would stick around for the aftermath when Grandpa was eventually fired: we'd all felt it was coming. But I got that little bit of cash and all my joints were screaming and every time we got negative feedback a part of me died.

The following Tuesday had seen a massive snowstorm. Things that weren't already closed due to the pandemic were closed due to weather.

But we still had to be there. Because someone had to be there to make all the funeral pieces.

Because there wouldn't be a truck the next day, which meant that all of the funeral pieces that we'd sent to the headquarters needed to be made in-house. Which, once again, could have been avoided if we had kept the funeral orders in-house to begin with.

I waited until everyone had cleared out before I said it.

"Grandpa, I have to quit."

I don't think anyone ever looked so disappointed in me in my life.

"Why?"

"The way they treat people here is terrible and I can't see myself doing another Mother's Day for this company. They're so… mean! And for no damn reason! I have cried every day for the past week because I see the way they treat you and I'm… I'm tired."

I thought she was going to cry, but she nodded. "I can't stop you," she said. "I shouldn't stop you. If it's affecting your mental health like this, I'll miss you but its for the best. You know they'll want a written notice."

"And you know I'll tell them the truth," I said.

"...it's not me, is it?"

"If I worked for just you and those fuckers were out of the picture, I would stay. And you can count on me to tell them that."

"Any flower shop you apply to would be lucky to have you."

So I drafted up a resignation letter telling them exactly how I feel: that the way they run this company was asinine and they treated their employees like garbage. They received it on Thursday. Everyone at the shop knew by then. They were upset…

...but they understood.

Puppet did not understand. He emailed Grandpa asking her what she's doing that her people keep leaving.

He didn't see it. He didn't see that he was part of the problem. It always had to be someone else's fault. I explicitly said in my letter whose fault it was and he still didn't take any responsibility.

But suddenly I'm one of their best designers, and he begged me to reconsider, take some time off to think about it. They desperately wanted me to stay and they were willing to bargain, I just needed demands.

No one's ever… begged me before. I don't know if I like that.

This is when it dawned on me that I was next in line. It all made sense now: training me to route, making me do all the extra work, and now they want me to stay?

They were planning on getting rid of Grandpa and promoting me to manager. In a perfect world where Grandpa resigns willingly and I’m promoted on my merits as a designer and the company wasn’t very quickly circling the drain, I would be excited. But I wasn’t. I was frightened. I watched them take a confident, extremely talented woman and turn her into the whipping boy of the flower shop. And if I were in her position, I would have quit. But I don’t have the strength to stand up to the people that are signing my paycheck.

Why… am I at a place where the idea of moving upward makes me more scared than excited?

Flattering, but no. I've seen how you treat your people. My demands are to treat them better.

It was the longest week for me: making lists of pros and cons. I had made a lot of friends there and there's stuff that I will never forget. But the fact that the only people who didn't understand why I was leaving were the people who had the most to lose really hit me in the knees. I could tell them every day for the rest of their lives why they suck and it wouldn't matter because nothing was ever their fault.

And at 7:00 on Friday, I turned in my key.

I didn't have a plan, I didn't have anything lined up. This was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make and I was just kind of… throwing myself at it.

I don't do that. I always have a plan. I look into every possible scenario and I try to make the smart choice. And this time…

I didn't.

It was probably stupid.

But I slept for 12 hours the next night and I could feel my bones settling into their rightful places. I didn't realize how many health problems were caused by standing for 9 hours a day, 11 days a week until I was home all the time to notice them changing. I will always have a limp from trying to pretend I don't have a limp. I'm pretty sure that ulcer is chronic. But my back isn't seizing up and I don't cry every day anymore.

That's something, I think.

About a week after my departure, I got a text from Grandpa that said:

"Hey guess what."

"What," I replied.

The next text was a picture of a week's old seal-point kitten with terminal eye-goo, wrapped in a towel.

"Pop-eye!?"

"I'm keeping this one," she said. The strays had dropped a litter of identical baby kittens by her pond. Two years later, with Jake put down, she could finally have Pop-eye, even if it was version 2.0.

The next text was a few days later. "Puppet fired me."

"What!? Why?"

"Too many accidents, too high turnaround. The new people suck, he says no one wants to work with me."

"Are you okay? How are you doing?"

"I'm okay." She paused and the loading screen did its little dot dance. "I'm playing with my kitten."

[rudystopit]

Daydreamer

[Denki x f!reader]

summary: you've been friends with Denki since your first year at UA. one morning he makes a joke and it haunts your dreams. you slowly develop a crush and the daydreaming begins.

all characters are aged up!!

warnings: nsfw, oral, light quirk play, overstimulation, and praise kink.

wc: 3.2k

You tossed and turned. Blankets thrown on the floor and pillow scattered around your bed. Every time you closed your eyes, that stupid scene played in your head. This morning you were hanging out by the third year bakugou’s desk with kiri and denki.

You joked that Denki couldn’t get any girl. Then the guys made bets. You can tell he was getting pissed. then he turned to you and grabbed your hand. He pulled you close and whispered something along the lines of “if you wanna know how I’m in bed, just come by tonight,” you instantly became flustered and walked away from the boys.

You sat in your seat and tried to think about something other than Denki. You could hear Denki and while Sero asked what he said. Bakugou told them to shut up and leave him alone.

Now its night and you can’t stop thinking about this stupid joke. It was totally a joke… right? You flipped over and faced the wall. You huffed and searched for your phone. 11:09. you scrolled through instagram for a little bit trying to thinking about something else. You saw cute dogs and other little animals. You watched the craft videos. You laughed at some memes and sent a few to your friends. Then you saw a stuffed Pikachu. You groaned and turned off your phone.

“Screw you Kaminari,” you whispered, staring at your ceiling. “I can’t even enjoy mindlessly scrolling through my phone without thinking about your dumb face,” you mumbled.

You stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours before your eyes slowly drifted to sleep.

You felt warm hands travel up your sides. Soft lips pressed even softer kisses into your shoulders. You smile and lean back against the person’s chest. his hands snake up to your stomach and he snuggles his face into your back. Your hands intertwine with his. You feel his head move away from your back. He shifts and plants a kiss on your cheek. His blonde hair tickling you face as he leans down. He whispers into your ear, “I love you,”

You snap up. Face beat red. the sun is rising. There’s no way you just dreamed about Denki. Nope nope nope. It didn’t happen. You swing your body off the bed and headed to go take a shower.

Nothing like a freezing cold shower and barely enough sleep to put you in a good mood. you dry your hair as much as possible with the towel. You flop yourself onto the bed and pick up your phone. Just your friends answering your late night messages and group chats saying good morning.

You open your Spotify and press the 2000s throwbacks. You toss your phone onto the bed as it tries to load the song on UA’s janky wifi. You start getting dressed for the day. Then it plays… Electric Feels by MGMT.

“Oh Fuck No!” You yell, running to your phone to change the song. “Not right now,” you slam your thumb on the screen to the next song. You sigh and go back to getting dressed.

after your very fun morning, you were dreading homeroom. You walk in and instantly head your seat avoiding the boys. You hear them laughing and yelling at each other. Uraka leans over her desk to talk to you.

“Hey y/n are you ok? I saw you weren’t hanging out with Bakugou and the others,” she sweetly asked you.

“I didn’t sleep much and those idiots will give me a headache,” you replied looking to the front of the class. Your eyes skim over the class. Yuga, Mashirao and Mezo were all sitting at their desks while kiri, denki, sero, and mina all crowd around bakugou’s desk who looks irritated.

They’re all laughing and you can’t help but to stare. You smile yourself. Denki looked so adorable laughing. He always had a goofy personality and it was easy to be yourself around him.

You catch yourself staring at him and mentally smacked yourself. “No y/n, he’s annoying and dumb,” you mentally scream at yourself. Then Aizawa walks in.

Class went by incredibly slow and you catch yourself drifting off. One time you zoned completely out… staring at him…

You walk to the lunch room with Mina and Tsuyu. They talked about whatever the hell Aizawa taught and making plans for the weekend.

“Hey, how come you didn’t sit with us this morning?” Mina turned to you snapping you out of the daze you were in. You shrugged and walked to the line. “Well, Denki made this joke I knew you would have loved,” she continued talking. “I wish I remember what it was.”

After getting your food you sat with them. You decided sitting with Mina and the boy so they’d stop asking you what’s wrong. It was getting super irritating. You sat in the middle waiting for the boys to get here. Mina chatting on about this cute outfit she saw last weekend and that you should go back with her to get it.

The boys came in a loud cluster and shoveled into the seats. You got used around a bit and when it settled, you were across from Kiri, who smiled and waved. He was next to Bakugou and on the other side was Sero. That means you stuck between Mina and… Denki…. You quietly ate your food and smiling when you needed too.

Suddenly you felt a hand travel up your leg and rest itself on the middle of your tight. You face goes instantly red and you push it off, only for it to return. You stomp on his foot. He yelps and everyone looks at him.

“Ouch y/n,” he whined, “what is your problem? Are you pissed at me?” He looked like  he was about to cry.

you push away from the table and leave. Not wanting to deal with the shitty mood of no sleep because you are developing a massive crush on a literal idiot.

You keep walking till you’re outside and you sit down. You feel like crying. You see Aizawa walking by. You run up to him and tell him your not feeling well and you’re going back to your dorm.

The walk back was peaceful and quiet. The dorms were silent and calming. Once you made contact with your pillow, you were out.

You feel your face pressed against someones chest. You pull away but two arms keep you close. You feel him kiss the top of your head. Your legs are tangled with his and he whispers how much he loves you. you move your arms to wrap around his neck and lean your head up. You look into his golden eyes. He gives you a goofy smile and kisses you.

You pull him closer and close your eyes. One of his hands slides up your shirt and rubs your lower back. You pull way from the kiss, foreheads pressed together, you whisper, “I love you Denki,” he smiles

A loud slam wakes you up. You see Mina standing there. “Hey are you ok?” She asks pulling her shoes off.

“Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep last night and im not in the mood to deal with the boys,” you move your feet so she can sit with you.

“Y/n, are you running a fever?” She asked putting her hand on your forehead. “You’re all red.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” you laugh it off and push her hand away. “I’m sorry about lunch. I hope Denki isn’t mad at me,” you sigh.

“He’s not. He wanted to come with me but I told him that he’d probably make it worse somehow,” she laughed. “Well, I’ll let cha get some more sleep. See ya later, y/n,” she waves and leaves.

You flop back down. you stare back at the ceiling. You pick up your phone and saw there was a few messages from Denki, Mina and Kiri. You tap on Denki’s notifications.

You roll your eyes and toss your phone away. “Complete opposite Denki,” you whispered. you closed your eyes and tried to go back to that dream. You wanted to be with him. You needed his warmth. You needed his dorky smile. You needed him.

You tired to go back to sleep for what felt like hours, till you gave up and picked up your phone. 11:30.

You make your way down to the third floor. You stood outside his door for a few minutes trying to collect your thoughts. You take a deep breath and knock. The door instantly flies open.

“Y/n are you ok?” He starts, “what’s wrong? Did I do something?” His voice is full of worry while you just stare at him. You slowly start walking in while he backs up still asking if you’re ok.

You had enough of the questions and you grabbed the collar of his shirt. He looked shocked. You look into his golden eyes. Suddenly, you body went into autopilot and you smashed your lips into his. he backs away in shock, but you still held onto him. It took him a few seconds to realize what’s happening, but once his thoughts cleared up, he kissed you back.

His hands found their way to your hips as he pulls you closer. Your grip on his shirt loosens and you fingers snake themselves into his blonde hair. His hands slide up your shirt. His cold hands make you hiss into the kiss. He smiles and pulls the shirt over your head. You had those two seconds to breath because after the shirt as off he back on your lips. His tongues grazing over your lips. You smiled but kept your lips closed. He backs you up against the door. He lifts his knee in between your leg. his tight makes contact with your clothed clit and the sensation makes you mewl slightly, which made Denki seize the opportunity and slipped his tongue into your mouth. He wasted no time exploring your mouth and his hands wasted no time exploring your boobs.

one hand slips under your bra. He massages your soft flesh. his index and thumb twist around your nipple and you feel a light zap. your eyes fly open and you pull back. Denki looks back at you with the widest grin. you shake your head. this is the man you fell for.

you placed you hand on his chest and pushed him off of you. he gives you a stunned look then quickly notices your moving to the bed. you flash him a quick smile and turn to his messed up bed.

his large hands grab your hips and he pulls them to him. his breath lingers on the back of your neck. he plants a chaste kiss on the pit of your neck as you pry his hands off your hips. you sit on the end of his bed.

his hand lifts your chin up to look at him. your hands move to the waistband of his shorts. you try to pull them down without breaking eye contact. you sink to the floor with his shorts and are met with a semi hard dick in the face.

you kiss his tip as his fingers lace themselves into your hair. you move to the base of his cock and you lick a long line along the underside of his dick. you hear him suck on his teeth.

“come on, babe,” he whines, tugging your hair slightly. you look up innocently as you bring his tip into your month. by the look Denki’s face was making, you can tell he was ready to bust just by that simple contact.

you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip. you make sure to give it a few little sucks to really get him going. the saltiness of his ore cum and the thought of reality of the situation makes your core tighten. you can feel your already wet.

“y/n, more,” Denki whines, after ‘waiting too long’ for you to add more into your mouth.

you sink your head slowly down his shaft. he takes a sharp deep breath and he grips your hair just a little tighter. you moan at the hair pulling which causes Denki to let out his own moan. sweet jesus it sounded like angels.

you wanted to hear more of his angelic moans so you start to bob your head more while humming. he lets out more moans and his fingers loosen on your hair.

“fuck, that feels good,” he moans, pushing you head back to looking at him. the slight of you on your knees with his dick thrusting in and out of your mouth sends a hue of red to his face. he quickly looks away and let’s you continue.

you knew he was getting close, so position yourself till his dick his hitting the back of your throat. you focus on your breathing throw your nose while he starts taking control. his hand is now on the back of your head. he tilts it up to get a better look at you and so his dick can get further down your throat.

his trusts become more frequent and quicker. his face twists in pleasure as his hot cum goes down your throat. he sloppily thrusts a few more times and pulls out. he grabs your chin. his thumb forces its way in and he opens it.

“good girl,” he says in a low voice. he leans down and kisses your forehead. “now get on the bed. it’s my turn to make you feel good,” with that you get up and sit on the edge of the bed.

he sinks in between your legs. this large hands grip your thighs and slowly moves them apart. he plants soft pecks on your inner thighs as he travels to your dripping heat. his warm breath hit your core and sent shivers down your back. his tongue drags itself through your folds. he gives your clit a few flicks and enjoys the sounds coming from your throat. your hands make they way to his soft hair.

he continues to suck on your clit while one of his hands slide from your thigh. he slips two into his mouth and pulls them out with a pop. then those two fingers into you. you take a sharp breath and your fingers tangle into his blond hair. his fingers thrusted in and out.

“denki~” you moan out. his fingers curl to hit that sweet spot. you arc your back into his fingers. he moves his lips away from your clit and gives your thigh a love bite. you thug his hair. he smiles against your thigh.

his lips moved back to your clit. his tongue swirls around your sensitive nub. he grazes his teeth across your nub. his fingers began quicken pace and soon you felt the knot in your stomach form.

he curled his fingers again, feeling the sponginess of your sweet spot. he rubs his two fingertips against it. his mouth removed itself from your abused clit and positioned itself at your entrance. he continued thrusting until the knot snapped and you arched your back. he removed his fingers and his mouth had taken the place. he lapped up your juices and listened to your sweet moans.

you came down from your high and released denki’s hair. he looked at you and smiled. he stood up and planted a kiss your forehead.

“gimme a sec” and with that he ran to the bathroom. you stayed laying on the bed. you tried to collect your thoughts. you were currently laying on your friend’s bed after he just ate you out. you blush madly and cover your face when denki reappeared into the room.

“what’s wrong y/n?” he rushed over to you. he pulled your faces away from your face. you were widely smiling and your face was as red as a tomato.

“i’m just happy,” you whispered, kissing his cheek.

“ok good,” he gets up and opens a condom. he slips it on and moves in between your legs.

he grabs your legs and moves them to around his hips. he drags his tip across your sensitive pussy. then he positions his tip at your entrance. he looks up to you for an ok.

“denki please i need you,” with that he pushes his way in. you inhaled sharply, surprised at the size. tears pricked your eyes. you knew he was relatively large but it feels different when it’s in you. you let out a moan when he bottoms out.

he leans down and peppers your neck with kisses. he cups your boobs as he waits for you to adjust to his size. after a few seconds of him kisses you, you roll your hips to see if you were ready. he feels you move and groans into your eyes, which makes you bite you lip.

you roll your hips a few more times before denki takes control. he slowly pulls out then slams back in. you scream in pleasure as he ruts back into you. he does this a few more times before falling into a pace. his hands grip your upper thighs as he thrusts in and out. you have your fists gripping on to the pillow as you let out beautiful moans of pleasure.

your moans fuel him to go harder and rougher. soon the room was filled with your moans, skin hitting skin and light pants from denki.

“shit y/n, you feel so good,” he groans pounding a little harder than normal. “you’re so good to me,” he whispers, watching his dick go in and out of you. “i love those little noises you make and those cute faces you make” he smiles looking at your face twisted in pleasure.

you feel his pace quicken and he biting down on his lip. he’s about to cum. one of his hands releases your thigh and moves to you clit. he rubbed at the same pace as his hips. soon the knot in your stomach reappeared.

“cum on his dick for me, y/n,” he moans about to come undone. his words fueled the fire and you felt the knot slowly coming loose. he quickened his pace even more and rutting even harder into you.

the knot comes undone and you moan out his name. he feels you cum and you pussy trying to milk him. he cums with a loud grunt and rides out his and your high.

his trusts slow down and he pulls out. he leans down and kisses you. he pushes a piece of hair behind your ear. “you did so good,” he said and rushed off to the bathroom.

you roll over to find your phone but found denki’s instead. he had three notifications.

you giggle and toss his phone to the side as denki comes back. he lays next to you. you lay your arm and head on his chest while you leg is crossed over his body. he kisses your head.

“i was gonna tell you sooner, but i thought you hated me,” he says.

“i dont,” you answer kissing his chest.

“good,” he smiles.

[kkusuka]

Anatomy lessons <3 

ushijima wakatoshi x reader 

genre: smut 

synopsis: ushijima is helplessly devoted to volleyball, and his grades reflect that. 

cw: anatomically fem reader, vaginal fingering, blowjob (i think that’s it, if anything seems left out let me know!)

a/n: all i could think about is that ushiwaka is canonically stupid and i love that. 

based o this request: Studying anatomy and using your body as a physical map- Ushijima ((smut)) I’ve had this imagine suck in my head about Ushijima but like just picture this, Ushijima and Y/N studying together and they both like each other but Ushi doesn’t know how to act on his emotions and Y/N can’t tell if he likes them so they are just running around in circles pinning for each other, but anyways Ushi is studying for anatomy but he just can’t get the female anatomy to stick into his head and he’s getting a bit frustrated and so Y/N is like well I’m a female, you can practice on me and he’s like well shit. Y/N lays down Ushi is gliding his hands over their body as he names the muscles and whatnot, they both get a bit hot and bothered and when Ushi finishes “studying”he’s got an awkward boner and Y/N is like “now it’s my turn to study your anatomy” and they push ushi down and 🤪🤪🤪 please give this to me I’ve been thinking about it ALL DAY!!! -✨Puppy🤩

Shiratorizawa’s reputation was built upon intelligence and elegance.

The students are of the highest degree in not only book-smarts but also athletics. Only the most talented and were persons were allowed in the walls of the academy. Hell, the entrance exam resembled an AP college exam.

“I do not understand.”

Of course, there are always loopholes.

The first being an athletic scholarship. One of the more annoying ways to make it into the school, according to the students. You don't mean to sound mean but, it was blatantly obvious when someone is on athletic help.

But that wasn't what you were dealing with right now. No, it was something the students found way worse.  

A recommendation.

Actually, it was an athletic recommendation.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was known before he had even appeared.

You had been the lucky one to sit next to him first, and second, and somehow third year. And through that, you’ve learned more than a few things about him.

Firstly, he was the most amazing volleyball player you have ever seen. He also had so much passion for the sport that it had seemed to rub off on you. By the end of first-year gym class, you knew how to receive a light spike of his.

Second, he was extremely easy to fall in love with. For being constantly aloof and oblivious, he had this pull to him that just roped you in. at first you weren't sure what you felt for the bot, then he had helped you with a project ending the night with a smile and you were done for.

He was also incredibly easy to stay in love with. Once he had your attention he was almost the only person you thought of. Plaguing your mind with fluffy fake dates and worries that he would never like you back.

But he hasn’t said anything for you to believe either of those situations so you sit at a constant stalemate.

And thirdly, he was not only dense but utterly stupid. How was someone so sought after so completely unaware of admiration? Not only his social unawareness, but he was also not the smartest when it came to school.

Then you swooped in, raised his grades a few points, and became his official homework helper. You thought it was a blessing, more time with the man who had your heart, but you underestimated just how much help he needed.

You had no idea how many times you would have to explain the Pythagorean theorem to someone before they understood. (you're sure now that he didn't really understand and he just didn't want to hear it again.)

And anatomy was no exception.

“That’s alright Toshi, do you want to try looking at a different diagram? That might help!”

Opening a new book, you spent another ten minutes staring at the page just looking at it, before staring back up at you. And that's your cue. No more diagrams, he was never going to learn like that.

This was what you called plan visual. somethings, namely science, were better learned but seeing and not memorization.

Letting out a sigh, you closed all of the books and told him to do the same.

“Ok, here’s what’s going to happen.” placing yourself directly in front of the cross-legged man, garnering his full attention, “I'm going to give you an arm and a leg  and, let's start with the skeletal system, so just tell me all the bones you can remember.”

Lending your hand you took it in his and gave you a nod. Going up the length of your arm finishing at your shoulder blade, he moved to run a hand along your un-bending leg. Starting at your ankle he kept a constant hand on the back of your knee, keeping your leg hanging in the air.

A few mixed up bones later you finally moved on to muscles. Not only did it take far longer but you could tell he was getting frustrated, if the hand gripping your thigh as he tried to name all the muscles there was any telling.

On his fifth try, you gave him some help and just decided to move on, seeing that it wasn't needed for him to know blood vessels just yet, there was only one other thing he had to do.

Male and female anatomy.

You had tried to avoid the topic but that seemed almost impossible at the moment.

“Is something wrong Y/n?” As he spoke you became all too aware of his hand still on your thigh and how he was staring right at you like he could tell exactly what you were thinking, “the next topic is the reproductive system correct?”

“Erm, ye-yeah, but we don’t have to-”

“Don't be silly, we have to get through all the material that will be on the test. May I have the textbook to reference from?” he spoke as if he was ordering food, completely nonchalant. As if his hand wasn't reaching into your skirt and sliding your panties to the side.

“This unit does not require the breasts so you can keep your shirt on.” he continued to slide your underwear from your legs flipping your skirt, pushing you onto your back. Maneuvering you to how he wanted, you holding your legs spread open and close to your chest, he got to work.

“The outer lips, formally known as the labia majora,” he spoke as he ran a finger down, spreading them open to e your hole clench around nothing.  He let out a breath and intently stared at your core.

“Labia minora, inner lips.” running another finger along your lips he collected the wetness that had collected on them, bringing it to his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he licked it clean. “A woman creates a natural lubrication to aid in intercourse.”

Deliberately avoiding your clit, he moved to the urethral opening, passing it quickly. Moving to run a hand along your stomach placing where he thought your cervix and womb lay.

“The clitoris, an organ that is completely dedicated to pleasure.” his thumb rubbing small circles around your bud was the final opus for you to let out all the soft whimpers you had so desperately wanted to let out.

Eye’s shooting to meet yours his thumb moved quicker, drawing more pants and wanton moans from your throat.

“Please Toshi, I wanna-”

Your beg must've ripped him away from whatever daydream he lost himself in, roping his thumb away from your clit, a whine escaping you, he moved to his final destination.

“The vaginal hole, where a man enters a woman and makes her his own. It leads straight through the cervix into the womb.” right as he finished two fingers shoved their way into your pussy.

Reattaching his thumb to your clit, he coaxed moan after moan out of you.

Hitting a spot somewhere deep in you, cunt spasming as he rode out you high with slow strokes, “the g-spot, a small area that aids with the female orgasm.”

Taking his fingers to his mouth once more, he watched you let your legs down and close your eyes to help calm your roaring heart. In your bliss, you felt two lips connect to yours, a soft dance between new lovers.

A forehead rested on your hands and ran up and down your sides placing you back into a sitting position.

“y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“We still have one more thing to do.”

Oh right, this lesson was a two-way street.

Crawling to kneel between his crossed legs you palmed his bulge as he leaned back on the chair, bringing his hands behind his head. He watched you take his cock out of its restraints, wrapping your lips around the tip leaning his pre-cum.

He let you pace yourself, don't complain when you came up to explain what you were doing to what.

On the contrary, you could tell all he wanted to do was push your head down and keep it there until his load stuffed your throat. Realizing this was probably the last time you would have control over the boy.

But all seems worth it when he shows you the A+ on the anatomy test.

Maybe Ushijima Wakatoshi is a good student after all.

[silv3rswirls]

Another member confesses to their s/o

Anon asks: Can I request a bts reaction where you're dating them, but another member drunkenly tells you they have a crush on you

Note: I changed things up a little, as not all the members are drunk in their parts, hopefully, you don’t mind!

Warnings: Drinking, slight angst

♡Seokjin♡

You celebrated Bangtan’s recent success with their new album with the rest of the group at their dorm. It was small, nothing too wild but some of the members had been drinking; Jungkook being one of them. You had been hanging out with him and Jin for the majority of the party, but at some point, Jungkook had disappeared and Jin excused himself to the restroom just now, so you found yourself standing alone as you waited.

The other members weren’t around. Yoongi and Jimin had turned in for the night and Taehyung wasn’t in sight. You could hear Namjoon and Hoseok talking in the kitchen, but other than that you were sitting alone on your phone. You had been happy to look up and see Jungkook making his way back to where you were sitting on the sofa. You smiled as he plopped down beside you, ready to ask him where he had gone, but you were stunned to silence when he took hold of your shoulders and kissed you. You could taste the alcohol on his lips as his hand moved to hold the side of your face. It was clear the youngest wasn’t in his right state of mind, so you calmly tried to push him away. You’d talk to him about it in the morning when he was sober, but at the moment he didn’t seem to want to let go. His grip on you grew just a bit too tight for you to wiggle from.

Luckily Jin returned just in time. “Jungkook?” He asked, shock clear in his tone as he rushed up to you. “What’s wrong with you!” He shouted, shoving his bandmate back and taking your hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s fine Jin, he’s drunk. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“No, I like you” Jungkook pressed, his voice a tad slurred. “I really like you Y/n, I have since the day I met you.”

Jin’s face had turned red in anger and part embarrassment to have his member and friend confessing so blatantly to his girlfriend. He had been the one to introduce you to Jungkook after you began dating. Had Jungkook held his feelings for you for that long? Jin was ready to start yelling again, but Namjoon had stepped in to take Jungkook away.

♡Yoongi♡

Yoongi had always known Jimin had a small crush on you. It was obvious, to him at least. He chose not to say anything though, believing Jimin's little puppy crush would fade with some time, and up until this moment, Yoongi thought it had.

Yoongi had been looking for you in the new hybe building, it was your first time visiting his new studio in the building so it was only natural you got turned around like so many others when they first moved in. Yoongi left to find you, knowing exactly where you were with your puzzled description. He rounded the corner to find you waiting, Jimin standing in front of you blocking Yoongi’s view. Something about Jimin's hushed voice made Yoongi a bit nervous and as he walked up to the two of you he felt his stomach drop.

“I’ve known for a long time that I like you...I just need to get these feelings off my chest or I’ll-” “You think this is funny Jimin?” Yoongi asked, having calmly placed a hand on the younger’s shoulder and pulled him away. “You think it’s right to confess to my girlfriend?”

Jimin merely watched you and Yoongi with wide eyes. “I just-”

Yoongi shook his head, he had never wanted to have to confront him on this. He had hoped Jimin would drift away from you, especially when you were always at Yoongi’s side; affectionate and loving. For now, Yoongi sent Jimin away. To his dismay and anger, he would have to talk to him about this later.

♡Hoseok♡

You had been sitting with Yoongi in his studio when it happened. Your’s and Hoseok’s third anniversary was coming and you had wanted to do something extra special and meaningful. So, you turned to Yoongi for help writing and composing a song for him. You had thought it a cute idea, personal and special and Yoongi had been happy to help you. But now, the song was done and ready to be given to Hoseok that weekend. After all your hard work you and Yoongi had decided to celebrate a little, just with a few drinks. Yoongi wasn’t drunk, maybe a little buzzed but you were still sober as the two of you sat and talked away the evening.

“I should get going, it’s getting late.” You smiled and began to collect your things, while Yoongi watched you. “Thanks again for helping, I know it’ll mean a lot to-”

“Don’t” Yoongi spoke up, sitting up and moving closer to you.

“Don’t what?” Your brow furrowed in confusion, even more so when you felt Yoongi’s hand rest on your thigh.

“I’ve known you for a long time before you and Hoseok even got together.” He began, voice a little heavy from the drinks. “I’ve always liked you” he murmured, eyes half-lidded as he moved in closer for a kiss. Immediately you stopped him, pressed a hand to his chest, and stood up.

“Yoongi...no Hoseok’s your friend, you can’t- I need to go.” You had swallowed the lump in your throat and finished grabbing your things, hurrying to get home.

You told Hoseok right away, feeling it wrong not to. He had gotten angry, especially knowing that Yoongi had done this after helping you with your anniversary gift to him. He stewed in his silent frustration all night, confronting Yoongi the next day.

“I trust you with her, how could you try something?” He asks, not ready for any of Yoongi’s excuses or apologies.

♡Namjoon♡

You had come down with a cold and Namjoon was too busy to stay and look after you, so he asked Jin to check up on you now and again until he got back. Jin was happy to, acting as an attentive and caring friend for both of you. He makes you soup and keeps track of when you were supposed to take your medicine. Fetched water and extra blankets when you needed them, he even stuck around to talk and watch a movie when you lamented your sadness over Namjoon not being able to be with you.

Something about it had tugged Jin’s heartstrings in a different way. Jin had always liked you, thought you were cute and sweet, but obviously never allowed himself to cross any lines. You were Namjoon’s, not his.

But right now Namjoon wasn’t here and Jin struggled to think straight.

“Hey” Jin smiled, voice soft as he brushed your hair away to feel your hot forehead. “Still running a fever.” He frowned. You only hummed weakly, arms wrapped around a pillow as you tried to ignore the headache and hate feeling.

“I wish Namjoon was here” you pouted, Jin was great and ever so attentive, but nothing beat the presence of your boyfriend.

“He should be,” Jin muttered if you were his partner he wouldn’t think twice about staying home when you were in such a state. He got you a cool washcloth, returning to find you asleep, the covers kicked away as you restlessly slept. Jin could help the fond smile on his face as he tucked you back in. Before leaving, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, the reality that he had really done that didn’t set in until he turned to find Namjoon in the doorway, a stuffed bear and your favorite takeout in hand.

Namjoon’s lips pressed to a line as he tried to contain his outrage. “We’ll talk about this later.” He states, voice icy and he ushers Jin away and takes his place at your beside. Jin can only hang his head in shame as he leaves.

♡Jimin♡

When Jimin found Taehyung and you locked in a kiss, his temper had gotten the best of him. He shouted and yelled at Taehyung, who had quietly admitted to being the reason behind the kiss. You had no part of it, Taehyung had just acted on his impulses. “I just couldn’t help it, I really like-”

“What do you think you’re doing with my partner Taehyung? They’re with me. You’re supposed to be my friend, how can you just kiss them?” Jimin’s seething, one of his closest friends had just made a move on his partner. “I don’t want to hear it!” He snaps when Taehyung tries to reason with him, “Get out of here!”

Jimin’s angry at him for a long time. One of his best friends had betrayed his trust and confessed to you, how could he not be angry? He avoids Taehyung as much as he can, not speaking with him for the time being. Taehyung is earnest in his apology to you and to Jimin but accepts that Jimin needs his time.

There’s a deep rift between the two of them.

♡Taehyung♡

It broke your heart when Hoseok casually let it slip that he had been harboring feelings for you. You stood mouth agape and unsure of what to say, especially when Taehyung was just in the other room. “Hobi...I appreciate it, but I’m with Taehyung.” You wore a deep frown, while Hoseok was still trying to recover from letting his secret slip.

“No, I need to be the one apologizing...I don’t know what came over me. I’ve just felt so strongly for you-”

“You heard her. She’s with me, she doesn’t want you.” Taehyung was frowning deeply, eyes hard as he glared at Hoseok. You could see the anger from Taehyung clear as day, but it was also easy to spot the hurt behind his eyes.

“Taehyung-”

“Leave us alone!” He snaps, turning to you instead. You both let Hoseok go, everyone clearly needing time to think about what had just happened.

“Tae,” you murmured, “he didn’t mean it.” “He did.” Taehyung argued, “I know he did, it’s so easy to tell he’s in love with you.” You stay quiet, but spend the evening comforting your hurt boyfriend.

♡Jungkook♡

It was late and things were getting a bit too wild. Everyone was having fun, drinking, and talking the night away. Jungkook had been occupied with Jimin and Taehyung, while you and Namjoon had hit it off for the night. You were both drunk, giggling and talking your time away. At some point, Namjoon’s hand had found yours and the drunken flirting began. You had giggled and gone back and forth with the leader of Bagntan, too far gone to really think clearly.

Unfortunately, Jungkook had been looking for you when he heard Namjoon tell you how beautiful you were and how much he had always liked you. As if Jungkook didn’t exist, it didn't even cross his mind as Namjoon leaned in to leave a quick kiss on your lips. You had hesitated even in your drunk state, but as quickly as the kiss happened you both forgot about it, going back to playful banter and laughs.

Jungkook didn’t say anything to Namjoon until that morning when the leader came to him to confess and apologize for doing it. He accepted it and when you did the same he accepted yours as well. However; he couldn’t quite get how comfortable and well the two of you had meshed that night. He’s scared to admit it to even himself, but he’s worried that Namjoon might’ve stolen your heart that night.

[biisexualemma]

unrequited pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.6k

warnings: anxiety, panic attack? i guess kind of

requested: yea a few people asked for this lol

plot: you haven’t seen peter for weeks and start to worry about him

a/n: i finished re-writing this late last night and i’ll be honest with you i haven’t checked it over so sorry if there are any mistakes but i’m tired sis goodnight! lmk if you like this! pls comment / share!

pt.1 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

"ned... you're so wrong for so many reasons," m.j.'s expression was flat, her eyes rolling before she continued to fight ned on who was really the strongest avenger. you were supposed to be working on a group project for your history class but somehow the topic of the avengers came up and the conversation derailed. ned was making a, somewhat, compelling case for the hulk but m.j. was clearly winning with her argument for wanda.

"nobody even knows the full extent of her powers... and the hulk? what? he's gonna smash some more?"

you sat quietly, chin in the palm of your hand, listening in and out of the conversation. you didn't really feel much like contributing. you would occasionally chime in to support m.j. but mostly you just heard the noise of their bickering and let it happen.

you didn't want to be that person, but your mind was (much to your frustration) completely consumed with thoughts of peter. and at the worst time, you had so many tests coming up, and essay deadlines were also creeping up on you. usually you were on top of this stuff, but your mind was preoccupied almost all the time.

because of peter, who was no where to be seen. in the past few weeks he had stopped showing up to school all together. ned said it was something to do with tony stark but you had a feeling it was more than that. you didn't know how to explain it.

you hadn't spoken to him in a long time now, and you didn't exactly leave things on good terms. it was the longest you'd gone without talking since peter called you a poopy head in the third grade.

you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. especially since you had no idea what he was getting up to, peter was known to get himself into some messes when he was left to his own devices. and you just knew ned was lying to cover for his best friend but that only made you feel even more out of the loop.

everything felt a bit off without peter around, like something was missing. that, on top of the guilt and worry you were feeling, was turning your head to mush. last time you'd spoken to peter, he was erratic and wounded and desperate. something bad had to have happened for him to be gone this long.

the bell rang, signalling the end of your last period for the day, and the rest of the week seeing as it was a friday. you snapped out of your daze, jolting as your eyes focused back on your surroundings.

"what time did you say again, y/n?" your eyes drifted to m.j. who was collecting her notes on her desk, her eyes meetings yours, waiting for your answer. a crease formed between your eyebrows, you hadn't heard a word of the conversation before right now. m.j. seemed to realise this, rolling her eyes at you with a playful smile. you did this a lot lately, she was getting used to it. "homecoming? what time did you want to meet tonight?"

"oh," you nodded, still sitting at your desk as your classmates hustled around you. "right, homecoming— i— uh—"

"tell me you're still coming," ned interrupted, his eyes wide suddenly, clearly desperate that your answer was anything but no. "c'mon we've had this planned for ages!"

"no— yeah— of course i am," you nodded quickly to reassure him. "yeah— sorry— i just spaced. is seven good for you guys?"

they hummed in response, nodding.

you packed up your books, shoving them into your bag, still in a slight haze with all these thoughts running through your head about peter. you couldn't think about homecoming, it seemed trivial now compared to the worst case scenarios running through your mind. maybe you could try to call peter again? you thought to yourself as you quickly left the classroom, forgetting about m.j. and ned and homecoming, your muscle memory alone leading you to your locker.

you swapped out your books from your bag with the ones you needed to study from for your biology test next week. after slamming the locker door shut, a familiar face was met with yours.

"jesus," you muttered as he stood inches away from your face, your heart racing from the shock. clutching your books to your chest, after nearly having a heart attack, you let out a loud sigh and furrowed your eyebrows. "peter? where the hell have you been?" you regained some of your composure, enough to find some anger in you towards him. he was the last person you were expecting to see today.

"you're ok?" his usual soft brown eyes looked sunken and tired, his hair was scruffier than usual and his lips chapped as they hung open, his eyes scanning over you.

your mouth hung open to speak but he just shook his head as if answering his own question. he gripped your forearm, urging you to walk with him. you dug in your heels, yanking your arm back, wanting him to slow down and explain before you went anywhere with him. "will you just walk," he muttered sharply when you tried to resist him. "please," he softened quickly, his eyes meeting yours.

you frowned, uncomfortably shifting the stack of books in your arms as peter pulled you along behind him hastily. you watched his eyes shifting about the hallway as students weaved around the two of you, his grip not loosening for a second. he was definitely up to something stupid and dangerous that he absolutely should not be involved in.

he'd dragged you all the way out into the parking lot, pulling you aside and away from the crowd of people.

"what's going on? why do you look like— i mean no offence but— you look like crap," you couldn't help but show some level of concern. no matter how complicated your feelings were for him at the moment, he was still your best friend, and he looked like hell. you couldn't stop yourself from staring at him.

"i need you to just— stop talking and listen to me," the look in his eyes made your heart beat a bit faster, your eyes darting between his trying to understand his urgency. "you're not safe—"

"no— i'm fine—" you were never very good at doing what you were told. you glanced down at yourself, perfectly safe and standing in front of him. "see?—"

"no— no you're not," he gulped, his eyes darting away from yours for a split second. "i'm taking you home and you have to stay there. ok? please."

his voice was horse, cracking when he spoke. you didn't understand any of it. peter was the friendly neighbourhood spider-man, what the hell had he gotten himself into that had him this worked up?

you tilted your head slightly, he couldn't think you'd blindly do whatever he said. you needed some answers. "pete," you mumbled, shaking your head with a faint frown. "can't you just tell me what's going on? you're kinda' scaring me."

"i screwed up," his face contorted, his eyes screwing shut for a second and his nose scrunching. you were glued to him, following his mixed expressions trying to understand what was going through his head. he took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "and i know you— you hate me and the last thing you wanna' do is listen to me but i need you to do this for me."

"alright," you said after a moments hesitation. you just wanted him to relax. all your pent up anger and hurt that you'd felt over peter had dissipated quite quickly. you were too occupied with trying to ease some of his stress, and if that meant becoming a homebody for a few days, you would do it. "alright— don't worry. i've been putting off my english essay for a week now anyway, it's about time i cracked down on it."

you tried to ease the tension, act like he wasn't asking much of you. he let out a heavy sigh, looking over at you with those brown eyes. "it's homecoming tonight, i know w—"

"is it?" you feigned forgetfulness, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did. you shrugged. "i was never one for socialising anyway."

peter knew you better than that. he knew what he was asking you to give up. "i'm sorry," he took a step closer to you, his hands hovering in front of you, unsure that you wanted him to touch you. "i'm sorry you got dragged into this."

your eyes lingered on his hands before you pulled back up to his stare. you pursed your lips and shrugged. "i'd feel better about it if i knew what i was getting dragged into," you pulled away from your conversation for a second to slip your books into your bag. "walk me home and you can explain everything."

and he did. he told you all about the vulture, the weapons, what really happened during the decathlon trip. all of it. right up to when the vulture figured out his identity— which lead to him finding out about aunt may, about his friends, and about you. he told you about how he'd spent the past few weeks figuring out where the vulture's next major deal was being held, how he'd messed up so bad and how mr stark had taken his suit.

by the time he'd finished, your mouth hung open slightly. you didn't know how he'd been dealing with all of this by himself. spider-man helped old ladies cross the street and returned stolen bicycles, he didn't fight men in bird costumes to stop illegal sales of dangerous advanced weapon tech.

"peter, this sounds pretty dangerous," you spoke up after he told you about his plan to intercept the vulture's airplane heist. "don't you think you should just call happy? or tony? this sounds like iron man territory."

"i can't do that," he sighed. "besides, i already tried happy— he's not taking my calls right now. something about a time out."

you let out a heavy sigh, having taken everything in that he'd told you. you had reached your door, peter standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. you motioned for him to come in but he hesitated, opening his mouth to decline. "c'mon," you grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "this heist isn't happening 'til late tonight. you can keep me company 'til then."

"maybe, get some rest, too, you really do look like hell," he let you pull him inside, following behind you. he ignored the second dig you had now made about his appearance.

"may must've been pretty mad when she found out you'd been skipping school?" you collapsed onto your bed, crossing your legs over and watching peter perch himself on the edge of your bed. he leaned forward, his hand running over his face with sheer exhaustion.

"you have no idea," he groaned, holding his head up with the palm of his hand now. "i'm pretty much grounded for the rest of the year. and i have to send her a pic' of me sitting in every one of my classes from now on," you nodded, pursing your lips because that sounded about right. "but mainly she was worried."

"well, she wasn't the only one," he glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes lingering there for a while. you breathed through your nose, looking away from him and down to your hands to give yourself a moment. you'd forgotten how difficult it was to have him look at you like that. "you just took off with no word, peter."

he turned his gaze away from you, focusing on the wall in front of him, his eyes glossy. for weeks that last conversation with you had been sitting at the back of his mind. he knew he'd handled everything in the worse possible way. he tried to protect you, hurt you by doing so, and then had everything he tried to protect you from blow up in his face anyway.

"i haven't been able to think clearly for weeks," you gulped, scared to meet his gaze again, in fear that you might lose your confidence. "i missed you. and i was worried out of my mind about you."

"y/n—" his voice was quiet.

"and i know i was the one who told you to leave. but i was hurt and sad. i'd convinced myself that you felt the same way, and when you—" you closed your eyes for a second, feeling him watching you. you hadn't been able to say any of this out loud for weeks and now it was just spilling out of you. "anyway— i shouldn't've punished you for that. they are my feelings i need to get over. it wasn't your fault and i'm sorry i made it seem like it was."

he shook his head faintly, sniffling slightly, catching your attention. "i screwed up," he shook his head a little harder, pushing himself up off your bed, his back turned to you. "i screwed up so bad," he ran his hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. your eyebrows knitted. "it wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"don't," you shook your head, willing him to stop. "it's not your fault. i shouldn't have—"

he cut you off, turning to face you as he did. "i'm in love with you," his mouth hung open slightly, his eyes now stinging red. "i was in love with you then, and i'm in love with you now. i think i always will be."

your eyebrows unknitted, your mouth opening to speak but nothing came out. you watched his hand tug on the ends of his curls, his eyes locked onto you the entire time, trying to read your expression.

"i was trying to protect you and it went completely wrong—" his breathing was erratic. "i thought you'd be safer if i distanced myself—" the look on his face was breaking your heart. he knew how stupid it all sounded now he explained it out loud. "i screwed everything up— and now you're in more danger than ever— because of me."

"you— you—" your brain was trying to keep up. you shook your head. you had spent the past month telling yourself that everything you thought he'd felt for you wasn't real, that you'd over thought everything he'd ever done for you. you'd been telling yourself for a month to move on. "you didn't screw up, pete. i know you. whatever you did, you did for the right reasons."

the lump in your throat was growing as you tried to keep some kind of composure. it wouldn't do either of you any good to get upset with him when he was worked up like this. he didn't need to be told he'd made a mistake, he was already painfully aware.

"you don't— you—but— i—" he was hyperventilating, completely vulnerable as he fell apart in front of you.

"pete," you mumbled carefully, climbing over to where he was stood, hand in his hair and he pulled on the loose curls, his eyes wide with anxiety and stress. you moved your hands to his, pulling them down to his side and giving them a small squeeze. "calm down," you cooed. "everything will be ok."

you trailed your hands up to his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze before pulling him into a tight hug. you wrapped your arms 'round his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair. his head ducked, burying into your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist in a desperate grip. his breathing was heavy at first, uneven and jagged as he clung onto you. your heart was beating out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it, but you held onto him as tight as you could, pressing your whole body against his trying to offer him as much comfort as you could.

after a while of standing around, holding each other, peter's breathing began to grow softer and slower. he began to notice the sweet scent lingering on your skin. his lips innocently hovering over the curve of your neck, breath fanning against your skin. you could feel goosebumps growing on your skin, the hair of your arms standing on end.

"better?" you mumbled softly. he gave you a faint nod in response, his lips leaving your skin as he pulled himself back from you. your hand slipped from in between his curls and down to the neck, your thumb brushing over his skin as he looked straight into your eyes. you gulped, eyelids fluttering.

he was a state to behold. his nose was pink, under eyes wet, your eyes trailed down to where his lips parted. he hiccuped a breath. you tried to push away the impulse to kiss him because he was clearly vulnerable. you didn't want him to later regret anything. "thanks," he mumbled breathlessly. "i don't know what happened there."

you pouted your lips, about to reply when peters eyes fluttered down your face, catching you off guard. his eyes lingered and you noticed his head tilting down and nearer, his lips catching onto yours before you could register what was happening. it was soft, gentle and didn't last longer than a couple seconds before you had to force yourself to pull away.

"peter— you're overwhelmed right now so maybe we shouldn—"

your whispers against his lips where cut short, he pressed his lips to yours again. unable to resist now he'd had a taste. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest. you swallowed a gasp, feeling his full weight behind the second kiss. his lips pushed against yours a little more desperately this time, you fell back a step, peter's arms where the only thing keeping you upright at this point.

both your hands where either side of his neck, trailing up into his hair where you pulled softly at the roots of his messy curls. he let out a soft moan against your lips, and you stumbled back once more, your thighs hitting your bed.

your hands quickly slipped down to his chest as you gently pried him off you. your head was spinning a little, his lips were plump and pink and the way he looked at you, with pure love and obsession, made you want to kiss him again and again.

"did you mean it?" you muttered breathlessly.

his eyes trailed back up from your lips, his gaze locking with yours again. he noticed the vulnerability and fear in your eyes now that he was paying you his full attention. he felt a wave of guilt hit him, knowing he was the one that put that look there.

"yeah," he hummed. "i did," he said with his chest. "i do. always will," he was breathless.

"you're not just saying it 'cause you've missed me?"

he shook his head quickly, shutting down any traces of doubt in your mind. "i have been in love with you since that summer we took that trip to coney island when you threw up after you ate too much cotton candy."

your scrunched up your nose at the memory. "gross."

he shrugged. "i don't know what to tell you. that's just when i knew."

your lips twitched into a small smile. "you should probably get some rest," you diverted the topic, trying hard not to kiss him again. he looked so tired. he had poured out months worth of anxiety and stress all in the past ten minutes. "you can't chase bad guys if you're half asleep."

he wore a half-hearted smile, his mind clearly flickering back to the task he had to take on later tonight.

"you can crash here if you want," you motioned to your bed.

"y'sure? i don't wanna get you in trouble."

"mom's working late, so you're good. plus she loves you, pete," your hands slipped down to his, giving them a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"sure she'll still love me when she finds out about us?" he quirked an eyebrow, the small smile on his lips was sloped and tired.

"m'sure," you hummed, biting back your growing smile at the word us. you moved him to sit on your bed again, his hands lazily holding yours. his eyelids fluttered as he looked up at you, a small crease forming between his eyebrows again. you could tell his mind was wandering again. "lie down, you need to rest or you're no good to anyone."

he nodded hesitantly and followed your instruction. "i'll sleep better with you next to me."

his voice was soft after you'd turned your back on him to leave him to rest. you rolled your eyes faintly, smile tugging your lips again. "is that right?"

he hummed, his arms outstretched, waiting for you to fall into them. you dragged your feet back over to him, biting the inside of your cheek, the corner of your lip twitching upwards. "there's a scientific reason behind it but my brain's too sleepy to think right now, so you'll have to take my word for it."

his words slurred together, his eyes rolling slightly the longer he forced them open. you just nodded. "alright, spidey, just this once."

"hm," he hummed as you climbed in next to him, his arms wrapping around you and immediately pulling you against his chest. "thanks," he muttered, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "don't know what i'd do without you."

[astaroth1357]

The Obey Me Cast on a Camping Trip (Part One: Brothers)

Hey guys, thank you sooo much for getting me to 2,000 followers!! I honestly don’t know what to say... I never dreamed that this little hobby of mine would reach so many eyes, and I can’t be more grateful. At a time in my life where things feel so chaotic and uncertain, being a part of this community and sharing my weird ideas has been what’s kept me going. It’s been such a rewarding experience all around, so thank you. From the bottom of my heart. 😊

I pulled out all the stops for this post. I even brought out one of my favorite songs of all time: Ao to Natsu by Mrs. GREEN APPLE to get the feel juuust right. I hope you all enjoy it!

This post is split in two due to length (I had too much fun again...) For the Undateables, please click HERE!

Intro:

Another day, another team building activity between the demons and the exchange students. It was Diavolo’s idea to go on a camping trip to the human world (because of course it was), and there were very… mixed responses. That sentiment wasn’t helped when he refused Lucifer’s insistent pleas to just purchase cabins for everyone to stay in. Oh no, the Demon Lord wanted to rough it out in the wilderness, and now everyone else was getting dragged along with him…

Wonder how that turned out?

Lucifer

Really, really, really tried to push Diavolo to just rent out cabins in but noooo, he wasn’t having it... So he ended up driving a van crammed with his brothers, the MC, and a butt-ton of camping equipment into the Alaskan wilderness… 

The car ride itself was insufferable… We’re talking, “I SWEAR I WILL TURN THIS CAR AROUND!!” level of antics every 10 miles or so (mostly from Mammon)…

Setting up camp was even more of a nightmare because about half of his brothers were utterly useless. The other half (save Satan) were completely clueless… Had it not been for Barbatos and Satan he probably would have just resigned himself to the mercy of the river’s currents and let it take him away…

He couldn’t even wear his usual clothes because of the situation… For the first time in who knows how many centuries, he was stuck wearing jeans… Diavolo even bought him several plaid shirts... (which he was not happy with btw because his brother wouldn’t stop making fun of the “new” him)

He had his own tent of decent-size, enough to move around in but nothing to write home about. The very fact he didn’t have to share was a luxury in itself, so he took it for what it was worth...

He spent a good portion of the trip focused on two things: keeping Diavolo happy and everybody else alive. He rarely left camp unless forced to; he just wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible…

If he did leave, it was because Diavolo would drag him along to fish or hike. He was... less than pleased to be called out of his tent at the crack of dawn or well past dusk to sit on a little rented fishing boat with Diavolo… but he didn’t exactly pick his friends so...

He rates the trip Too Much Trouble/10. Let’s never do it again.

Mammon

Wasn’t a massive fan of being stuck out in the wild, but Satan told him some made-up bullshit about buried treasure out in the forest and got him HOOKED. He even borrowed stole a whole bunch of mining/digging equipment just for the occasion!

He spent most of the car ride asking, “Are we there yet??” like a child. The MC had to step in to keep Lucifer from leaving him on the side of the road at multiple points during the journey... 

He was one of the utterly useless ones when it came to setting up camp. Someone charged him with putting up the twin’s tent, and he spent thirty minutes reading (then re-reading) the instructions while shouting expletives. Poor Simeon had to shield Luke from the vulgarity…

He has to share a tent with Levi, which neither of them liked. Mammon mainly because of Levi’s “old fish stink” and Levi because he feared catching “Mammon’s stupid.”

He was all jazzed up to go digging from Day One, though. He’d have breakfast, grab his shovel, then wander out into the middle of nowhere to go dig holes in the ground…

He also got completely lost on Day One, and it took the MC summoning him with their pact to return him to the group... By that time, he was filthy and somehow looked like he had been castaway for days (even though he was gone for like, three hours?)

When he stubbornly refused to stop digging, Lucifer resorted to just tying a rope around his ankle and letting him loose. It was up to Mammon to get back to camp before dinner, or else Lucifer would yank him back like he was on a leash.

Satan waited until the last day to finally tell Mammon the treasure was bullshit, and he was PISSED. He even threw Satan into the river, which resulted in the rest of the brothers joining in for a swim while the two tried to “playfully” drown each other.

He’d rate this trip 0/10 because he didn’t get any buried treasure. What a ripoff…

Leviathan

Hated the idea with a burning, seething passion. There’s no internet, cable, electricity, or phone signal out in the middle of nowhere! How the heck is an otaku supposed to survive?!

He clung to his electronics during the car ride until either they ran out of signal or their battery died, then he didn’t know what to do with himself… He resorted to reading several volumes of the manga he stuffed into his bag and clung to the MC for emotional support…

Yet another useless soul trying to put the camp together. He was in charge of his and Mammon’s tent but ended up almost crying in frustration… How the hell do humans do this all on their own?? Wasn’t he supposed to be the third strongest?! Why is he so pathetic?!? 😫

Hates sharing a tent with Mammon because he always wakes up to the second born encroaching on his space somehow… Poor baby is pretty much directly against the tent wall and STILL has to deal with legs and elbows in his side... 😰

Spends the majority of the trip moping in the tent... If he goes out there, he has to deal with the sun, bugs, and people… No thanks. He only leaves for meals and occasionally to go swimming. 

When he found out part of the way through that Barbs brought portable solar panels and a battery pack for Diavolo and Lucifer’s phones, he was livid. He demanded access to the power source, which Lucifer refused because “It would defeat the purpose of this trip.”

He’d have summoned Lotan right then and there, deadass in the middle of the forest, if the MC hadn’t intervened. He then went back to moping, but now at the bottom of the lake and it took a lot of coaxing to get him back out…

On the final day, he was packing up the camp before anyone else even woke up. He wanted OUT and back to civilization ASAP. Bedroom here he comes!

Satan

You wouldn’t think of Satan as an outdoorsy guy. Still, he has shades of a survivalist in him (mostly because he’s read a lot of guides and was looking for an excuse to use them for a loooong time).

He read for the majority of the ride. He was squished between Asmo and Levi, which was reasonably peaceful. But he did end up shouting at Mammon quite a bit towards the end because “NO, we’re not there yet, peabrain!!”

He actually wasn’t a waste of space when setting up the camp, and between him, Barbs, and Lucifer, they were able to get a lot of stuff set up before sundown. He did have to bark a few orders to the others here and there, but overall competency won out in the end.

He shared a tent with Asmo, and the two made it work well enough… Except when Asmo did things like spraying his perfumes and dry shampoos, making it practically impossible to breathe in for a few minutes…

Spent a lot of the first few days reinforcing the camp to a ridiculous degree.

Did he have to collect large branches to build an exterior fence around the campsite? No. But he did.

Did he have to set up a water distillation system using some of the materials Barbs had lying around the “kitchen?” No. But he did.

Did he have to weave a series of fishing nets to catch them lunch from the lake and river? I think you get the point by now.

Only once he built pretty much every contraption or improvement he could think of, did he go back to just reading and relaxing by the fire.

By the time the group was ready to leave, Satan had somehow managed to craft them a veritable, self-sustaining fortress in the middle of the Alaskan wilds…

Overall he would rate the trip as… meh. Next time give him a challenge like a deserted island or an actual desert, and then he’ll really see what he can do.

Asmodeus

Was about as unhappy with the idea as Levi was… It wasn’t that he disliked the outdoors per se, it was just that no one, NO ONE, pulls off looking flawless after several days stuck in a tent!

He chatted the entire car ride from start to finish. He never stopped talking. It made for decent background noise at least…

Was one of the more clueless ones when trying to set up camp and pretty just did what he was ordered. The second he was left to try and figure something out on his own, he went to Lucifer or Satan for help because NOPE. Human equipment is needlessly complicated sometimes…

He had to share a tent with Satan, which in theory shouldn’t have been that bad, but Satan was out basically all day in the sun doing who knows what and would always come back sweaty and gross! At some points, he had to chase his brother out of the tent until he dunked himself in the river or something. No way was Asmo sleeping next to that. 😤

Asmo took the second-longest to get up and get ready in the morning. Sometimes he wouldn’t even leave the tent until well past breakfast just in an attempt to salvage his hair and skin… He only got grouchier about it as the trip went on… 😥

A more… earthy looking Asmo is kind of a bizarre sight. He’s still attractive, no doubt, but it’s less like polished glamour and more like Hollywood humble. He spent the majority of the trip looking like a somewhat dirtied movie-star (which he still insisted was the worst he’s ever looked in ages).

Aside from salvaging his looks, he actually enjoyed taking pictures of their surroundings or of the group (but not himself). He sometimes forgot how genuinely breathtaking the human world could be…

….but his patience for the place wore out quickly once he started noticing his hair getting greasy. He was right next to Levi, packing up the site once it was finally time to leave. At least those two finally found something they could agree on, let’s get the fuck out already! 

Beelzebub

He was really curious about trying camping food and pretty excited that Barbatos was coming, too (because that meant great food in general).

Unfortunately, Lucifer had to stop the van at basically every gas station they passed for Beel could refill on snacks… Belphie ended up getting buried in wrappers pretty often, but he was asleep, so it didn’t matter much.

Beel did a lot of the heavy lifting when setting the camp up, but the finer details were left up to everybody else. He had his hands full getting stuff off the cars as is…

Of course, he shared a tent with Belphie, and there wasn’t much complaint between them. Honestly, there would have been more drama if they were split, so this was the better option.

After the MC told Beel about fishing and how it could net him more food, if he did it right, he knew exactly what he wanted to do during the trip.

… But no one told him how long and slow the process would be. There were points he’d get so hungry he’d consider eating the bait himself…

That was until about Day Three of the trip when they passed by a river full of grizzly bears… He was about to ask the MC why the bears were all standing in the water, but then he saw a fish practically leap directly into one’s mouth…

Beel had discovered his true calling.

Of course, the grizzlies didn’t take too kindly to a demon suddenly sprinting into the water with them. They tried to fight him off, but Beel just tossed most of them downstream without any issue until they realized who the apex predator really was…

After forming a shaky truce with the bears, Beel would stand in the water for hours then come back with whole baskets full of salmon… There were far more fish than Barbatos knew what to do with, so he’d just confiscate a few then let Beel eat the rest...

The MC shuddered to think about what Beel had done to the local salmon population… But he was full and happy for most of the trip, so he had a great time!

Belphegor

Sleep for him isn’t too contingent on location, so the idea of camping wasn’t terrible. It did sound like a lot of hassle for no good reason, though…

He spent the entire car ride asleep, head and cow pillow pressed up against the window and everything. It wasn’t the most comfortable experience, but he’d dealt with worse.

He was utterly useless when putting up the camp by choice, thank you. He had more than enough sense to get things put together; he just didn’t want to. If he wasn’t asked to do something by Beel or the MC, he’d just lay back in the grass and smugly watch everybody else struggle…

Again, he and Beel are in the same tent, and you wouldn’t hear any complaints out of him. He did start to have some second thoughts when Beel began getting a fishy smell, though, so he tried to bunk with the MC in their tent for a while.

Like Levi, Belphie didn’t leave the tent much during the daylight hours, but that was because he was still asleep… There was no good way to wake him with no alarms available, so he’d sleep in past lunch easily.

When he was awake, he didn’t leave camp very much except to walk with the MC or watch Beel fishing grizzly-style.

Eventually, Asmo and Diavolo got sick of him dodging their photos, so they’d started posing him Weekend at Bernie’s style around the camp (always conveniently propped up by something and with sunglasses on)

Something Belphie did like, however, was the nighttime. Since there were no lights around, he could practically see everything the sky had to offer. He could spend hours laying on his back long after everyone else had gone to bed just admiring the stars.

All in all, not a terrible trip. Anything that could give him that view like that was well worth it. 6/10, would sleep again.

Click HERE for Part Two. Check out my Masterlist for more!