#me retreating to my room also makes me more likely to...binge? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 2 years

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Okay, I think I have finally found a cleaning strategy that is compatible with my fucking MYRIAD MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES while also not being so hard on my body that it causes an autoimmune flare up so buckle up lets go.

First things first, I have taken to using Grove for all of my cleaning supplies. Are they bougie as hell? Yes. Could I pay less for the literal same products (down to the volume and brand) somewhere else? Usually yes. Does the environmental footprint of the delivery of these supply boxes every month probably outweigh the environmental friendliness of their packaging? Almost certainly. BUT!!!!!!

My brain doesn't do the feel-good biochemicals real good (or really any of the biochemicals) so getting a delivery of pretty, autoimmune safe household goods every month triggers that lovely little hit of dopamine so without fucking fail every time one arrives, within a day I have carefully unpacked all my little goodies (they even send me a surprise** present with every box???? What more could a depressed burnt out bitch with no executive functioning want???), and within a week I have gone on a cleaning binge where I hyper fixate on my apartment one room at a time until the whole goddamn thing looks like it could be coming straight out of a designer tiny house catalog because I'm just???? So excited???? To smell all my nice scented cleaning supplies and play with my pretty new organizer items????

**the best part is that the surprise gift isn't actually a surprise because you get to pick it yourself from one of three options during the order process, but because I have extremely limited working memory and recall, I never remember which one I picked and can somehow have both the experience of a specifically chosen by me tailored extra gift AND a special surprise present I didn't expect at the same goddamn time.

So. A+ marketing strategy honestly, hits me right in the neurotransmitters every time, and given how long I can go without lifting a fucking spray bottle normally, I'm calling it an accessibility tax.

Anyway, horrifically this is only step one of my new cleaning process, and, honestly the rest of it is probably A) personal, and B) gross as hell so I'm gonna put this under a cut and you can feel free to skip it. But all my comrades out there who can't for the life of them keep a cleaning schedule because the dopamine don't work good, get you a cleaning product subscription (Grove isn't the only one but they're all about the same) because that bad boi will get ya every time, tricking you into thinking cleaning is fun by making it feel new and jazzy.

Okay, so your cleaning supplies arrived this week and have been burning a seasonally scented hole in the back of your fucking brain for the last 4 days, and you finally have an entire 24 hour period with zero time specific obligations, which means the cleaning fest can begin as soon as you convince your executive functioning to allow you to put down your phone, stand up, and walk into the other goddamn room.

This takes approximately.....six hours. Mostly because that's how long it takes for your wife to take the dogs to the park for the afternoon and the day has some serious "may not be perceived in your natural habitat" vibes, so that's how long it takes for the house to be empty of every living thing that cannot help but be up in your business. The cats don't go anywhere but that's okay because the second they see you go for the cleaning supplies the retreat to their dens and refuse to come out until at least 24 hours have passed. There is no danger of the cats perceiving you until this whole farce has ended, so the cats can stay.

Now your brain is on some unmedicated OCD, autism, ADHD, CPTSD, and suicidal depression shit and has been since at least 1997, so there's a lot of conflicting motivations/needs happening up in your grey matter meats right now and here's how you're going to rank them for the duration of your cleaning binge:

You skipped your last couple of cleaning deliveries because you were broke and miserable and that means it's been about 2 months since the last time you cleaned anything which would be fine if it weren't for the fact that 2 people, 2 dogs, and 2 cats live in this 550sqft apartment and these 6 living creatures somehow seem to secrete filth like a weird protective outer layer, which means that for the past 2 weeks at minimum you have been Carefully Never Thinking about what might be on the surfaces that you're touching and the only thing allowing you to still set your bare foot down on your hardwood floor is the layer of dirty laundry that develops over everything when you've forgotten to do laundry for a month, and if you have to really think about what you're cleaning you're going to cry, vomit, and then bite something, only possibly in that order

This is true in all 3 total rooms of the house, which means some of what you might have to clean is definitively more triggering than others, but also the dogs DO have a tendency to destroy anything they can fit in their unhinged maws directly on top of your sheets and pillows on the bed and this means that while technically the content is less upsetting, the experience is So Unfathomably Much Worse, but you only ever have one room's worth of cleaning in you per 24 hour period and anyway your wife will be back with the dogs in a max of 2 hrs so some Decisions TM will need to be made

Once the momentum stops so does the cleaning and god help you if you're halfway done because neither your wife nor your trained service animal nor g-d them fucking selves will be able to stop the meltdown that happens every time you have to walk in that room until you manage to finish the job

So you decide to clean in the following order:

Bathroom

Bedroom

Galley kitchen/front entry combo

Pros to this decision:

If your wife brings the dogs back before you're done cleaning the bathroom is the only room where you can close yourself in long enough to finish cleaning.

Tiniest room in the house

Clean tub (don't think about the implications here or you will spend the rest of day in paralyzed hysterics)

Clean toilet (if you even begin to consider the implications of this, drop 50mg of THC tincture immediately or wifey will find you flat on the floor screaming so hard you don't make any noise)

This is where most of your preferred clothes end up when they turn into laundry so the basket of clothes you collect is an absolute guarantee of having the Good Clothes back in rotation if you can also schlep down 3 flights of stairs to the basement at least 3 times to do some washing.

Bathroom is very pretty when clean, and will stand out really fucking hard from the rest of the house after your done which will increase the chances of the OCD making you clean the other two rooms on future 24 hour periods of zero obligation, which will help you roll the cleaning motivation from your delivery over until next weekend because you will need 2-3 weeks to actually clean every room (there is only 24 hr period of zero obligation guaranteed per week)

When you're done cleaning you can take a bath and it'll feel really fucking good as long as you rinse down the shower enough not to have a dermatological reaction to your cleaning products from soaking in tainted water

Now that you have crossed the first hurdle you will need the following supplies in order to complete your mission (supply list backfilled after writing out your entire process because like fuck will you ever remember every item you need in order to clean a room literally ever):

Multi purpose cleaner (with secret ingredient dish soap)

Tub and tile cleaner

Paper towels

Microfiber cleaning clothes (at least 3)

A pair of those shitty dish washing gloves from the dollar tree

Broom and dustpan

Trash bags

Trash bins

Sponge/scrub brush

Phone (for music and also missing all of your wife's text messages and phone calls about the dogs because your brain literally cannot comprehend external existence while cleaning)

Your oldest pair of ER scrub pants and a sports bra built for a fucking linebacker's worth of titty (mine's made of terrycloth because I love myself and would rather die than feel sweat on my skin)

Empty laundry hamper

Now that you collected all of your shit (definitely prior to starting and not by scampering in and out of the bathroom the entire cleaning process like a deranged chicken looking for the Good Foraged Seeds) you're going to hunker down and get to work. You put on your most boogying playlist and get to work.

Step 1) pick up all the textiles on the floor and add them to the hamper (step 1a is to shake them out before throwing them in but you have to walk the line of thinking about this just enough to remember to do it but not so much that you notice all the fuckingggggggg debris????? that falls out of your clothes.

Step 2) pick up any objects off the floor that you will not be throwing away and set them in the bathtub, you'll come back to this later

Step 3) grab that broom and sweep up your floors into a big pile on the floor. Best if you sing and dance and really get all hyped up about your music while this one happens or you will be forced to reckon with how many times your skin has made contact with your floor seasonings.

Step 4) take your new trash pile and scoop that shit into one of your trash bags you don't need to be meticulous here because you'll be doing another pass on the floors later, but you need to get the big stuff up and outta your way.

Step 5) take all the stuff off your sink and add it to the bathtub pile

Step 6) empty the bathroom trash and then pop the bin into the bathtub with everything else

Step 7) spray down every goddamn surface (except the bathtub and its contents) with your multi purpose cleaner. Mine's in an orange bottle and smells like grapefruit because I'm not allowed to eat grapefruit anymore or I'll die, but fuck man I just love grapefruit?????? Floors are included as a surface in this spraydown.

Step 8) use your paper towels to do a first pass of "wiping up" on your surfaces. This will be upsetting. Keep the toilet lid up for emergency vomiting, vut try to head it off by breathing in through your nose for a 4 count and out through your mouth for a 6 count.

Step 9) now that your surfaces are sanitary, spray down another layer of multi purpose cleaner. Floors are included as a surface in this spraydown.

Step 10) use your microfiber cloth to scrub your surfaces and really clean up any of the stuff underneath the stuff. This will be the first time you feel capable of acknowledging the reality of what you are cleaning because at least now it doesn't look like a fucking yeti tracked hair, mud, and plant matter through every inch of your home

Step 11) shake your microfiber cloth out in a trash bag, and then drop it into the laundry hamper

Step 12) remove any items from the tub pile that shouldn't get wet and wipe them down with wet wipes or a damp paper towel before putting them In Their Spot

Step 13) fill the tub with about 2 inches of the hottest water you can manage and toss any rim-of-tub items into your remaining tub pile

Step 14) start washing, drying, and putting away each of the items in the tub pile one at a time until the tub pile is gone. Rim of tub items go in the sink temporarily.

Step 15) spray down the tub with tub and tile cleaner on the outside, inside, and rim

Step 16) use your sponge to scrub the tub with the cleaner and wipe the leavings down onto the floor of the tub.

Step 17) use paper towels to wipe up the leavings on the floor of the tub until it's nearly dry and all debris is removed

Step 18) rinse tub, but no need to get meticulous

Step 18) spray down the tub, the walls of the shower, and the lower half of the shower curtain with multi purpose cleaner

Step 19) use a cleaning cloth to wipe down the entire tub, walls, and curtain

Step 20) thoroughly rinse the tub, walls, and curtain with water and wipe down the outside with damp paper towels

Step 21) spray some multi purpose cleaner directly onto a clean cloth and use it to wipe down baseboards, heaters/radiators, walls, etc.

Step 22) put the rim-of-tub items back on the tub rim now that it's mostly dry

Step 23) spray scented disinfectant in the room including two spritzes directly into the trash can and two spritzes directly into the toilet bowl

Step 24) restock the toilet paper and top off the soap dispenser, etc

Step 25) add a bleach tablet to the toilet tank which you thankfully HAVE been remembering to do regularly because it means you don't have to scrub your toilet bowl literally ever and honestly that's a small mercy because you used to just end every bathroom cleaning day vomiting into the bowl as you cleaned it, so life hack those consequences!

Optional step 26 is to excitedly tell your wife as soon as she and the dogs roll up that you just cleaned the bathroom and she should go see it when she has a minute and she looks at you and says "i take it that's why I couldn't reach you?" And you go "oh shit, we did talk about this didn't we?" And she goes "it wasn't an emergency, but I am glad you're alive" and you go "I'm really sorry I'll figure something out for next time but also it really does look super clean and pretty and I am still waiting on the last little bit of dopamine that comes from external validation and praise?" And she says "fine" and goes to look and then gives you a forehead kiss and says "it looks really good baby, thank you" and you say "!!!!!!!" and then you go collapse in bed for at least an hour while your body catches up with the fucking stunt you just pulled.

Your bathroom does look fucking spectacular tho, so at least there's that.

#my own special version of how to keep house while drowning #obsessive compulsive AuDHD edition #like folks #i cannot emphasize enough how badly my contamination obsessions mesh with my executive dysfunction #this is literally the only way I keep up with cleaning #and keeping up with cleaning is the only way i don't slowly disintegrate into a hysterical lump of goo #cleaning routines are the stuff of nightmares for me #but i hope this helps someone else because fuck knows i'd have loved to not have to reinvent the wheel on this one

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allthingsfook · 1 year

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I was curious if I could get a ship! I work as a nurse (I really love helping people when they are at their most vulnerable) and am 5’5” have brown eyes, auburn hair and pale skin (I cannot tan at all, I just burn 🤣). I love reading especially Jane Austen. I love Star Wars and I love going to live music shows! I’m most excited to see Hozier this fall! I have a black kitty named Gibson and love fall and winter oddly enough. I also just love spending genuine time with friends whether that be at a bar or at home or somewhere else! Thank you :)

Heyyyy! I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten around to your ships! I have an inbox full that I’m hoping to rock out in the next few days.

I ship you with….

Jake ❤️

To start off, the most attractive thing he’s ever said is if he wasn’t in the music industry, he’d want to work in healthcare…. As a nurse I find that extremely attractive as I’m sure you do as well 😂 I feel like Jake has such an unwavering love of people and distinguished care for others well being. It’s no shock he’d see himself in a healthcare role. Wonder what he would specifically do…. You should let me know what you think!!

Your physical description reminds me of a character from the Victorian era, and to which Jake would constantly reference when complimenting you. How timeless and pure you are. Whether you believe so or not, Jake would always be around to offer his praises.

Over and over again I’ll sing how much of a bookworm Jake is! I can envision Jake retreating to a dim-lit, moody library hidden in the depths of his gorgeous home. Between the two of you, the room would be packed from floor to ceiling with literature. He’d spend hours obsessing over everything from history to lore to autobiographies. Time would often get away from him, and he’d emerge hours later…. Feeling stimulated and refreshed to flip the crisp pages through his fingers. Psssst!!!! Don’t even think about Jake finally breaking down and getting glasses for reading…. 🤭 I’ll torture you and include a visual at the end!!!

All the boys are such nerds, so there is no doubt in my mind Jake would love to sit down and binge Star Wars when he comes home. I can see you setting up a whole experience to make it something Jake thinks about for months afterwards. You’d lower the lights but program the mood lighting to toggle between blue and red. You’d make a nest of pillows and blankets on the couch… don’t forget your Yoda, Chewbacca, and Darth Vader plushies. You’d lay a whole spread of snacks out on the coffee table, Star Wars themed of course! You might even throw your hair in braided buns for him 😉

Compared to Sam and Danny, Jake’s lack of affection toward puppies makes me think he might be a cat guy. He’d obsess over Gibson! Obviously! It would melt your heart to come home to Jake kicking back, strumming his beloved Gibson while Gibson is stretched out at his side! Wouldn’t take long for them to become best buds, and not gunna lie you might be a little jealous of their bond!!!

If Jake were a season, he’d easily either be fall or winter. His whole persona and attitude is so mystic and sometimes cold. Looking back on all the high school photos of him, Jake seems to enjoy winter especially. I’m sure he would love to go on a little winter get away and go skiing, snowboarding or even take you to Frankenmuth for the whole holiday experience!

To round out this ship, all the boys are so dedicated to their friends and family. They would do anything to make them feel special and cherish their relationships. I think Jake, most of all, has a huge soft spot for people close to him. Just judging that on all the matching bracelets and necklaces he shares with his loved ones. I live for all the old photos of him and josh being front row at Kelly’s gigs. Settling down with you and creating a little family, I think he would be more apt to going home to visit mom and dad and his grandparents. Through him you would gain some very special people in your life too.

Well I really hope you enjoyed your ship as you hate to wait an eternity for it! Please let me know what you think! I always love to hear your reactions. It means the world 💕

#greta van fleet #gvfships #gvf #peaceful army #gvf moodboard #songships #gvf fluff #greta van fluff #joshkiszka #jakekiszka #samkiszka #dannywagner

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livingroombeat · 11 months

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UPDATE ON ACT 3

Living room beat hasnt had an update in 9 days so i figured i should probably explain why, bc it might seem like i abandoned it or something, which i havent. Ive been working on new comics this whole time (currently i have 48 comics sitting in my backlog).

The reason i havent been posting them as i finish them like i was doing before is because its actually super tedious to do that and its also pretty harmful to my workflow, i just work better and faster on the comic when i dont post so ive sorta just slipped into not posting.

Because of the benefit of not posting as i go, ive decided that from this point forward im going to just bulk post each act as i finish it, so im going to finish act 3 and just post it onto the site and then post act 4 a month or so later or whenever im done with that.

I also think this is better because im very inconsistent with WHEN i work on the comic, so it could get super annoying with me just posting 4 comics in the middle of the night that arent super important to the main ongoing narrative. It would probably feel like the story is moving at a snails pace and just not going anywhere which is obv not what i want.

Also, the comic is very much structured around binge reading despite me having been posting it as i go up until now, so this release structure will honestly just make more sense in all aspects.

Im also planning on posting maybe 3 or 4 comics from the next act whenever i post, so like when i post the rest of act 3 ill post 3 or 4 comics from act 4 to just give a taste of whats to come. After that ill just retreat into my cave and finish the rest of that act.

The only thing is i dont want to just not post for like 6 months or something as some of the future acts are going to be a lot longer than the current ones. So i think im gonna limit the backlog to 100 comics as that also coincides with the blogger daily post limit. Idk if ill ever actually get 200+ comics in a single act though. Well see.

But yeah i just wanted to update on that and say i havent abandoned living room beat. I dont really have an eta on when act 3 will be posted, currently im at 3-92 but theres still some more stuff that happens in this act, so who knows. Ill keep updating here every now and then.

#awesome #comic #web comic #webcomic #my comic #new webcomic #oc comic #update #announcement #livingroombeat

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cal-writes-never · 3 years

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Hii!! I love your jealous Cami hc and I can already tell I would binge read more of your writing hahah 😂✨

I heard requests are open so if you don't mind, may I ask for some fluff for our beloved chameleon boy? (Bonus points if we also get to shower him with lots of affection in return 👀) thank you!!

oh my gosh thank you so much, that genuinely means the world to me<3 also i always feel like i don't properly fulfill the request so if there's anything you would like changing/rewriting please let me know!! i am absolutely okay with it

pairing: camilo madrigal x gn!reader

type: fluff, oneshot

summary: you and camilo finally have some time to yourself

word count: 742

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For the past few hours you'd been at Casita with the Madrigals, giving them an extra hand for Antonio's gift ceremony tonight. It was obvious how excited - yet stressed - everyone was, especially Camilo. He adored his younger brother to the moon and back and he was beyond thrilled for him to finally receive his gift, but he was also nervous; what if Casita's magic truly was fading? Mirabel's gift ceremony was nothing short of a disaster and that was only a few months after Camilo's, and there hadn't been another since. The whole family and town could merely do so much as cross their fingers and hope for the best.

Once all the decorations were up and the only job left was down to Julieta in the kitchen, you and Camilo retreated into his room before the ceremony began. He grabbed your hand as soon as he shut the door and pulled you over to his bed where he seated himself and brought you down with him, yanking you on top of him and wrapping his arms around you so you couldn't escape. He lay down with you on his chest and you relaxed into his warm embrace as you giggled together.

"I missed you." Camilo said softly once you both settled down. You were curled up with your head on his chest so you could feel his steady breathing and hear his racing heart, a feature of his that you'd grown to love more and more each time it happened.

"I missed you too, my chameleon." you muttered as you closed your eyes, gripping your boyfriend's waist tightly. You hadn't seen each other in quite a while due to uncontrollable circumstances and clashing schedules, but you finally had chance to speak again for Antonio's ceremony.

"Look at me," he instructed, his voice quiet and gentle. You did as he said, groaning a little from having to move from your comfortable position. Camilo smiled lovingly as he looked over your features, tenderly cupping your cheek with his hand. "You're so beautiful, mi amor." he whispered. Your face heated up and you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes again and placing your own hand over his.

"I love you." you mumbled into his palm, attempting to place a small kiss there.

"That tickles," he giggled, moving his hand away to wipe it on his ruana in a weak endeavour to make a joke out of it. So, in return, you pouted, turning away from him in order to hide your grin. "Amor?" he asked guiltily, beginning to apologise when you pounced on top of him, tickling his sides.

You were one of the only people who knew Camilo's weakness. That boy was ridiculously ticklish, proven by the way he dramatically fell flat on his back and laughed like there was no tomorrow, trying as hard as he could to push and kick you away. You laughed just as much as he did, relentless in your actions, only stopping due to your own boredom, the two of you wiping away the tears of joy from your eyes.

There was a split second in which you locked eyes with him, and the adoration was gleaming. He loved you, and you loved him. You didn't need extravagant dates or presents, for the affection alone was enough to solidify your feelings and carry your relationship.

Holding out your arms for him, Camilo gratefully accepted the invitation to snuggle up, shuffling around so both of you could get comfortable.

"Cami?" you said after a few moments of silence, brushing your fingers through his curls.

"Sí?"

"You're so handsome." you murmured, a tiny smile gracing his lips as he nuzzled closer into your shoulder. You placed a kiss on the top of his head, still lightly combing through his hair, whispering words of adoration into his ear as he slowly drifted off to sleep, tightly grasping your hand.

Moments like this are few and far between when you're dating a Madrigal, but when they do come along they are incredibly precious and you cherish them for as long as you can. So when Félix came in to fetch Camilo to help setting up the ceremony and was greeted by the sight of you and him in a deep sleep, bodies squished together and hands clasped, he decided to leave you be. As long as you were awake in time for the ceremony, what could go wrong?

#camilo x reader #camilo madrigal x reader #encanto x reader #encanto reader insert #x reader #reader insert

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comfortbucky · 3 years

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𝗻𝗼𝘁-𝘀𝗼-𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽

WAIT HI HELLO HEADCANON OF (tfatws!bucky) ROOMMATE!BUCKY SECRETLY CONFESSING HIS FEELINGS TO THE READER WHILE THEY'RE SLEEPING BUT HE DOESN’T KNOW THEY HEARD HIM

gif credit: @buckysbarnes

pairing: roommate!bucky x gender neutral!reader

tags: roommate!bucky, soft!bucky, friends to lovers, fluff

A/N: BESTIES THIS IS SO LONG LMAO MY B

my masterlist!

u landed a dream job in ur dream location: brooklyn, ny

and u were absolutely ecstatic

the only issue was money

the cost of living in nyc is ridiculous

so u needed a roommate

it just so happened that around the same time, that a certain super soldier was looking for a place in his hometown brooklyn, as he was finally starting a “normal life” or whatever dr raynor said

so u found a 2 bedroom apartment and put signs up around the surrounding area in search of a roommate

u keep it super simple, not wanting to reveal too much about urself bc u figure that might attract creeps

ur friends called u old fashioned for that, but u figured posting online on craigslist would result with u, on the news, dead, bc u ended up living with a serial killer

bucky is walking around the familiar, but very different, streets when he comes across ur roommate ad and decides to go for it (he’s already lost steve what else does he have to lose)

so he takes a number and waits until he gets to the hotel room he’s been staying at to call

ur simultaneously nervous and excited about ur first, and only, response to ur roommate ad bc u have no idea what to expect but also desperate to find anyone who can help split the cost

“hello?” ur question is met by a low, husky voice

bucky is thrown off by the softness of ur voice but quickly pulls it together

“hi, i’m bucky. i saw ur flyer for a roommate.”

u are really glad this is being done over the phone because this man’s voice alone is making ur cheeks heat up

u guys plan a time for bucky to come over and take a look at the place before he finalizes his decision

the day arrives and u feel ur stomach doing flips when u hear him knock at ur door

u open the door are immediately drawn to his piercing, ocean-blue eyes

bucky is immediately captivated by ur beauty, he avoids ur gaze for a moment, looks back up when u greet him

“hey.” u give him a small smile and he returns it

“hi.”

u move to the side to let him in

this man literally had no criteria in mind for finding an apartment other than it being close to a park for his walks at ungodly hours of the night

so he accepts

ur friendship starts off… slow

at first, u both mind ur business, living ur lives and barely speaking

everytime bucky came back to the apartment he would just walk into his room, shut the door and stay there

u rarely saw him, and honestly wondered when he ate because he was literally never in the common areas of ur apartment

but u were preoccupied with starting ur job that u didn’t mind at all because he was a good roommate, never made a mess, paid on top, and was fairly quiet

sometimes u would hear him wake up in the middle of the night and leave, closing the door to ur apartment so gently, as to not wake u up

the first time u guys spent time together was when he went on his first date

he didn’t tell u about it beforehand, of course, but u were sat on the couch, binge watching new girl when he walked out of his room and headed straight for the exit, saying nothing

u could smell the cologne he put on (it smelt like pine trees) and had a feeling it was a date bc u had never smelled that cologne before and he had spent like an hour in the bathroom right before he left

it must have been 45 minutes tops before he stormed back into the apartment and went to the kitchen to grab a beer

u immediately knew something was off and that he was upset from his body language and the fact that his date lasted less than an hour

“hey, u okay?” ur question is met with a grunt

u see bucky start to retreat from the kitchen to his room and u decide to say something again

“do u wanna watch tv with me?”

bucky pauses in front of his bedroom door before he turns around, nods, and plops himself on the couch next to u

he makes sure to leave some space between u guys, wanting to be respectful

u both sit in silence for a bit until a joke is made onscreen and u giggle

bucky turns to u and can’t help the soft smile that forms on his lips

he falls asleep that night, dreaming about what he could do or say to hear the sound of ur laugh again and doesn’t have a nightmare

from then on, movie nights became a regular occurrence in the apartment (once a week MINIMUM)

ur regular bonding experience helps u form a stronger friendship with bucky, having thoughtful conversations with each other

he’s thankful that u don’t ever push him into talking about something he’s uncomfortable with or not ready to talk about

u always just offer a smile and shift the conversation

u see him more in the common areas, even just to sit at the dining room table to read a book in silence

and the gap that once existed between u guys gets smaller and smaller every movie night

for a bit, nothing more ever happened other than ur thighs touching each other, side by side

until one night when u had a really long day at work and end up falling asleep during the movie, ur head landing right on bucky’s shoulder

at first he’s startled by it but looks down to see the light from the screen making ur skin glow in the dark

he’s taken by ur beauty, observing every little detail from the shape of ur nose to ur soft lips

and then he immediately snaps out of it bc he realizes how creepy he must be

and now he’s panicking internally bc he doesn’t know what to do

he doesn’t want to wake u up because u had just told him about ur exhausting day at work

but he also doesn’t want to let u fall asleep in this position bc he knows ur neck is going to be sore in the morning

he makes the decision to try and shift ur body so that ur laying on the couch

and as he’s being so careful to move u, scared that he might wake u, u start to stir and he freezes

u remain asleep and end up snuggling up closer to him and he feels his heart skip a beat

with ur repositioning, he’s able to easily pick u up, bridal style, and carries u to ur room and lays u down onto ur bed

as he’s starting to stand up, he stops, realizing ur hand has a firm grip on his sleeve

u mumble, so softly, that if he didn’t have super soldier hearing he probably wouldn’t have understood it

“stay.”

bucky feels his heart racing and can’t help but smile

he gently shifts u over, making room to lie down on his side next to u

he leaves a little bit of space bc he’s nervous he misheard u or something

but then u move ur body closer to his, resting ur head on his chest and draping an arm across his side to pull urself closer and let out a content sigh

ur half-awake at this point, but u don’t let bucky know that, selfishly wanting to do anything to remain in his arms

bucky is frozen in absolute shock

he can’t remember the last time he cuddled with someone

let alone someone he started to develop feelings for

he quickly snaps out of his thoughts to wrap his arm around u, holding u close to him and rests his chin on the top of ur head

he places his other hand on the top of ur head, gently stroking ur head

bucky thinks he must be dreaming

he places a gentle, soft kiss on ur forehead, before whispering his confession

“wish i could call u mine, doll.”

bucky’s heart literally stops as he sees ur eyes flutter open to look up and see him, paralyzed in fear

u smile and kiss him on the cheek

“u should.”

all of bucky’s worries immediately faded away as soon as u smiled at him

he smiles back, feeling the most happy he’s felt in 90 years

he replies by gently tipping ur chin up to him and placing a soft kiss on ur lips

“so happy ur mine.”

567 notes · View notes

absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

950 notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

who's the boss | jhs

pairing: jung hoseok x oc

genre: fluff, slight enemies to lovers, boss!hobi, pa!oc

warnings: like one moment of suggestive content, confessing but no real confessions, jimin is your annoying best friend

words: 4, 663

summary: valentine's day with your stupid (hot) boss

“You look miserable.”

Jimin snickers when he walks past your slouched body across your desk, ensuring that you saw the mocking look he gives you when you glare at him.

“Please tell our boss that.” You mutter under your breath, attempting to avoid the mountains of work that sat in front of you.

“You’re his assistant—you out of all people should know that he’s a force to be reckoned with.” Jimin points out, slamming a new pile of folders on your desk.

You gape at him, observing the unforgiving amount of work that now occupies both your desk and time; and Jimin only offers you a half-hearted shrug before patting you on the shoulder.

“Mr Jung wants it by tonight,” Jimin lets you know as he begins to walk off.

The deadline has you snapping your head rapidly to his retreating figure as you quickly stand up to call for him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” You exasperate, “Jimin—there’s no way I can get this done by tonight let alone this week!”

Jimin doesn’t even turn around when he shrugs, as if to tell you that it was your problem to deal with.

You growl, helplessly staring at the work that scatters your desk before your eyes narrow to the office next to yours, doors shut tight.

Before you can think twice, blinded by pure anger, you storm towards the secluded room; ignoring the stares from your co-workers, and a few sighs that you can tell is coming from Jungkook knowing that you were going to piss your boss off yet again.

You don’t knock, long past that level of formality with your boss as you slam the door open, eyes narrowed intimidatingly at the unsuspecting victim of your rage, who just looks up from his laptop with a raised brow.

“____, are you already done with—”

“Jung Hoseok.” You hiss, interrupting him as you shut the door behind you, rolling up your sleeves as if that would intimidate the man; fully aware that he towered over you, even in heels.

He slowly brings his laptop to a semi-closed position and leans back into his seat, arms carefully folded across his chest in a way that makes him look intimidating yet commanding.

It was a pity that your boss was such a douche because he was truly one of the most beautiful men that you’ve had the pleasure (or displeasure) of meeting in your entire life. Hoseok had the charm of a man that held himself with confidence and assurance, knowing that he was likely the hotshot of every room he walked into.

However, that also meant that he had a justifiable inflated ego that you were on the receiving end off, purely because you were hired as his personal assistant and not some other poor soul.

“That is my name, yes.”

You stomp towards his desk and slam your hands down onto the expensive wood, making sure your eyes are locked onto his stoic expression.

Momentarily, you see his eyes glance down to your chest where a decent amount of cleavage is likely being displayed to your boss, but it goes as quickly as it comes when he returns his gaze onto your blazing one.

“Are you fucking crazy?” You snap.

He blinks at you, hands clutched together as he leans forward on his elbows, face getting impossibly closer to your own that you have half the mind to put some distance between the two of you to preserve the beating of your heart.

“Is that any way to speak to your boss?” He cocks his head to a side, a teasing smirk dawning on his face.

“Cut the shit,” You hiss, “In what goddamn universe did you think it was justifiable for you to give me a month’s worth of work and expect it to be done by tonight?!”

He sighs, leaning back into his chair and man spreads in a way that you usually would hate, but of course, Hoseok made it look undeniably hot, and inviting.

“Didn’t I hire you because of your work ethic?”

You scoff in disbelief, arms folding across your chest.

“This is not about work ethic, and you know it. You have some secret vendetta against me and I see through your shit.” You accuse.

“Do I, Ms ____?” He says in a voice so low that it makes you stutter in your response.

“You tell me, Mr Jung.” You retort.

He observes your expression for a moment, taking in the way that you were breathing heavily and how your cheeks were a little flushed from your rant. Hoseok smirks at you because even though you were a lot to deal with, and had a tongue sharper than anyone he’s known, you were adorable.

Just like a kitten that was waiting to be tamed.

“Very well then,” He claps his hands together and opens his laptop again.

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for his next set of words. You recognise the slight gleam in your eyes and that causes an unsettling feeling to develop in your stomach.

“Work overtime.” He says simply as if it was the most obvious solution.

You gape at him, baffled at his blunt suggestion.

“What? That’s your solution? To work overtime?” You snap.

“I don’t see a better option knocking at our door’s here.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

You grit your jaw and feel your eye twitch at his indifference, and you think about risking getting reported to HR, or even getting fired just so you could reach over and strangle the hell out of your insufferable boss.

“Give me an extension.” You all but demand.

“No.”

You’re about to leave with your dues until he answers you, and you snap your head to look at him incredulously.

“What do you mean no?” You hiss.

“It’s exactly what it means, Ms ____. I want the documents sorted through and filed by tonight. Even I’m working overtime and I’m the boss.” He smirks, eyes still not straying away from his laptop.

“Hoseok you don’t understand. I can’t.” His name slips out involuntarily, and you almost miss the way a smile teases his lips when you opt for his actual name than the nicknames you’ve resorted to.

“Oh? Did you have plans tonight?” He pries, eyes twinkling with mischief.

He knew. He knew what today was and gave you a shit ton of work.

You clench your jaw and give him a curt nod.

“Yes. I do.”

He hums under his breath, glancing down to type something onto his laptop before shutting it completely.

“Well—cancel them. You have plans with me now.” He says.

You choke on your spit at his calm declaration as you splutter to find a response.

“I can’t just cancel a date—!”

You snap your mouth shut when his eyebrows shoot to his hairline in a mischievous manner as if seeing you flustered was his favourite sight to behold.

“As your boss, I think I call the shots here, don’t I?” He pushes himself off his chair to walk towards you, height and presence imposing on your retreating figure.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” You spit when he engulfs your space with his presence.

The navy grey suit he chose to wear today flattered his physique wonderfully, showcasing his lean and long limbs as well as his built. It didn’t help that he styled his hair with it parted by the side, his forehead on full display—as if to mark his territory as the most intimidating (and handsome) person at the office.

“Call me what you wish,” He shrugs, a smirk on his face, “We’ll have a lot of fun tonight, won’t we?”

You’d be lying if you didn’t have butterflies in your stomach.

“Mina—tell the blind date you set me up on that I can’t make it tonight,” You sigh, phone between your shoulder and your ear as you type away at your computer.

You hear Mina whine on the other end about how she thought the guy she set you up with was a perfect match for you. Truthfully, you didn’t even want to go on the date in the first place; but Mina said that you needed to get over the hots you felt for your boss even if he was the most infuriating person in every room he’s in.

“You’re not lying to get out of this, right? Do you really need to work overtime?” She whines.

You sigh.

“Do you remember who I work for? Of course I need to work overtime.” You mutter.

“How am I going to tell Jae?” She complains, and you briefly hear a thud on her end; probably signalling the fact that she flopped onto a surface in despair.

You snort and narrow your eyes to get a better view of the details on your spreadsheet, ensuring all facts and figures were aligned before saving it and proceeding to the next set of work you needed to finish.

“You’ll find a way,” You tell her, “I need to go. I have ten more documents to sort through and they’re all due tonight.”

Mina blows a virtual kiss for you and bids you goodbye, saying to kick your boss in the ass for her.

The moment you hang up, you see Jimin and Jungkook walk pass your desk with their bags over their shoulders, stopping by you to offer a sympathetic smile.

“Have fun working overtime ____,” Jungkook says, and it’s sincere enough to make you give him a half-hearted smile.

“Work on sucking your boss’ dick too.” Jimin snickers, mimicking the action inside of his cheek as you glare at him, chuckling a piece of crumpled paper in his direction.

“Jungkook—tell Taehyung I said hi,” You smile sweetly at him, then narrowing your eyes into slits at Jimin, “Jimin, I hope you puke out all the chocolates you’re going to binge on tonight.”

He gasps, hands resting on his chest in mock offence as he waves you goodbye, heading out as you return the gesture with your longest finger.

There the last bit of your co-workers that left the office, and now it was just you—and Hoseok—but he was cooped up in his office, for whatever reason it may be.

You sigh, cracking your knuckles forward as you attempt to race through all the documents that needed to be sorted through as fast as you can so you could go home and binge-watch all the romantic comedies in your watchlist.

The quote time flies sits prettily on the tip of your tongue when you glance at the clock on your table to tell you that it was half an hour till midnight, meaning that you slaved away to work for an additional 6 hours.

You huff, at least thankful that you were finally done.

Even with Hoseok’s words saying that he’d work overtime as well, you were sure he was just in his office relaxing while you did his hefty work. The thought makes you frown as you clean up your workspace, ensuring that it’s in a pristine condition before you head back.

“_____?”

Hoseok’s voice peeks out from his office and you stop your ministrations to turn your head to look at him, a few stray strands of hair falling by the side of your face as you do so.

Hoseok can’t help but appreciate how relaxed you look, a juxtaposition from the usual prim and proper persona you took on during work. Your hair was tied in a messy bun, and a few buttons of your blouse were undone to give yourself some room to breathe.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow, beginning to get irritated with the way his eyes unabashedly observe you.

You have the words on your tongue already, preparing to cuss him out with your mouth and your fist if he gave you any more work to do.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asks.

You raise an eyebrow, watching his figure lean against the frame of the door.

“No, I haven’t. I was too busy finishing up the documents for you, remember?” You bite, can’t be helping the snark that your tongue releases.

A small twinge of a grin appears on his face as he cocks his head to his office, gesturing you to enter.

“I have some food. Do, join me.” He asks.

You blink at him, hands still clutching the last bit of your belongings as you mull over his proposition. While you and Hoseok worked close and hand in hand in business operations, you managed to have professional boundaries with him (which didn’t include the fact you cussed him out every five minutes). So, for him, the poster image of uptight and professionalism; with the occasional blunder, to invite you for a small meal outside of business?

You try to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster.

“Ah … it’s fine—I’ll probably heat some leftovers up—” You shake your head to deny.

But as you were caught up in a daze, Hoseok had seemed to have made his way to your desk, body positioned in a way that locks you in so that you had no other way to escape.

“Nonsense.” He tuts, grinning at you with his award-winning smile and you find it very hard to find him distasteful when he has the ability to reduce you to mush.

You notice that he mirrors your appearance in the sense that he looks far more casual than he usually does during work hours. He’s abandoned his blazer, and all he’s left in is his dress-shirt that does absolutely nothing in hiding his figure and slacks that just accentuates his waist even more. The fact that he also has his sleeves rolled up makes you more flustered than you’d like.

“It’s late—” You try to make an excuse, but he’s tugging you by your wrist to follow him and you have no objection on your tongue when you’re in his office.

Somehow, you've been in the room a million times, the second person that spends the most time in here besides Hoseok himself, yet tonight feels different.

The context of sharing a small meal with him seems almost illegal as if you were committing a crime.

“When did you even order this?” You mutter, when you realise his desk was already cleaned of all work-related stuff and only left with the brown packaged bags of food.

“Of course you didn’t notice,” He teases, gesturing for you to take a seat on the chair next to him.

You roll your eyes, bowing your head slightly to thank him when he passes you a sandwich, and you’re pleasantly surprised to know that it was your favourite order from a place you frequented during your lunch breaks.

“How did you—?”

“I’m not that much of an asshole to not know your likes and dislikes ____.” He jokes.

You purse your lips, flustered because while you and Hoseok bantered back and forth, and you were definitely tougher on your own boss than you were to your colleagues, you knew deep down it was an act of self-preservation to convince your own heart that keeping him away was safer for you.

“I didn't mean it like that …” You mumble, munching on your food.

Your eyes are too focused on the sandwich that you miss the fond expression Hoseok gives you, opting to just observe small bites that you were taking.

Eventually, you do notice that Hoseok isn’t eating but paying full attention to you, chin resting on his palm as he blatantly stares at you. When your eyes look up to meet his own, you flush and look away immediately, ears burning red under the dim light as you attempt to cover it up with a cough.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

He shrugs.

“I had my dinner hours ago. This is for you.” He gestures to the food, “You know I despise these things. They’re so pretentious.”

You gape at him with an open mouth.

“Then why are you still—” It seems like Hoseok is dead-set on not allowing you to finish most of your sentences tonight when he responds before you can finish.

“I was waiting for you.” The confession knocks the wind out of your chest as you look at him with wide eyes, heart beating faster when he nonchalantly admits that he was cooped up in his office—waiting for you?

“You didn’t have to do that Hoseok …” You mumble, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear bashfully—a habit you only do when you’re embarrassed.

He snorts.

“A thank you would be nice, sweets.” He leans forward, face inches closer to yours as you yelp and leans back into your chair.

The term of endearment doesn’t fall deaf on your ears as you blush even harder. You want to curse at yourself because you’re much stronger than this, you’ve trained for years to not let your feelings show in front of Hoseok because well … he was the CEO and you were his personal assistant.

While there was no strict ban on dating your boss, you had ethics and principles of your own that somehow convinced you that it would’ve been messy. And messy it would be because you worked with him on every single project, communicated information to him and basically was his confidant—purely transactional—so you wouldn’t risk your career just to be with him.

Especially when you didn’t know if he felt the same way.

Even when he looks at you like that.

“I’m waiting …” He sing-songs, grinning at you.

You roll your eyes, looking away when you mumble:

“Thank you.”

He seems satisfied as he leans back into his chair, gesturing you to finish your meal.

The sandwich was delicious, as always, but once you took the last bite you were starting to wonder if Hoseok had really just waited hours, and now to just have you eat in front of him.

“Thank you for the meal, Hoseok.” You say politely.

He eyes you for a second, until his eyes glance to the side of your head—then back at you.

“It’s five minutes before midnight.” He points out.

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“… okay?”

“So … aren’t you going to wish me?” He pries.

The cue falls over your head, until you see and feel Hoseok, cage you in your chair.

You let out an eep at the sudden proximity, flushed at the way Hoseok grins at you all suave-like.

“Wish you?” You squeak, “W-What do you mean?”

He sighs, resting his palms on the side of your chair, looking at you with a fond expression that you were sure your eyes were deceiving you with.

“I dunno. Isn’t today a special day?” He teases, and he revels in the fact that you’re turning into a tomato under his scrutiny.

“I-Is it? I didn’t—I didn’t know that …” You gulp.

Hoseok takes the leap of faith and reaches out to pat your head, as you freeze under the touch.

“There were flyaways.” He smirks.

You feel like dying because of how close he is to you, and you know that he won’t let you go unless you say the words he’s tried to pull out from you. So, you swallow your pride, and honestly, gather all the courage you have in you to wish him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hoseok.” You mumble, eyes avoiding his.

He doesn’t do anything for a split second, and you feel like a fool. You’re about to push him away until he moves—shuffling between his drawers to pull out—

“Flowers?” You cock your head to the side when he hands them over to you.

They were a beautiful arrangement, meticulously curated with the hands of someone that wanted perfection. It was very like Hoseok, but also included all of your favourite flowers and colours that you can’t help but imagine how cohesive the two of you would be.

You try to shake out of your delusions because you’re still processing the fact that Hoseok had handed you a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers you’ve ever seen and received.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, _____.” He smiles, and it lacks the usual mirth that he carries when he’s out to poke at you. This time, his smile is kind, warm—and longing.

“W-What is this for …?” You admire the arrangement, and it feels heavy in your palms. A testament to the effort put in, as well as how expensive it must’ve been.

“For being a great personal assistant,” He says.

It’s like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on you when he says those words. You blink up at him, then you scowl—shoving him away from you as you abandon the flowers on the table. Your heart was so hopeful as if you had managed to understand what was going on in Hoseok’s heart—but he reminded you of who you were and the world between the two of you shattered.

“Hey—hey. Where are you going?” Hoseok seems panicked but you don’t pick up on much as you hastily try to leave.

“Home, Hoseok.” You say curtly.

He’s faster than you when he grabs your elbow to spin you around to face him.

“Do you not like it?” He furrows his eyebrows.

You glare at him, and all the irritation in you returns when he genuinely looks clueless.

“No, Hoseok. I fucking love it.” You try to pull away, but he’s stronger than you.

“Then what’s the problem?” He huffs.

You narrow your eyes at him and even though he both makes you want to rip your hair out and makes your heart feel funny—he genuinely looks confused.

“You!” You yell, shoving at his chest as he just looks at you quizzically.

“You’re my problem Jung Hoseok,” You point a firm finger into his chest, “You’re always making me do your work for you and teasing me until I want to rip your hair out—then you do this … whatever this is, with the flowers and the stares you’re giving me and you—and you expect me to be okay?”

He blinks at you.

“You’re so confusing Hoseok! Like God—first, you look at me with those eyes of yours and expect my heart not to flutter? Is that it? Do you just like embarrassing me like this? You stupid son of a motherfucking bitch—!”

He really needed to shut you up, and granted, it wasn’t the best way to do it. But there was something oddly endearing about the way you were yelling his ear off that he needed to just close the distance.

Hoseok grabs you by the waist with a firm hand on your cheek when he leans down to kiss you.

The kiss is explosive, both in pent up frustrations and longing all at once and you’re both confused and relieved when you feel the plush of his lips against your own. You forget what you were saying when he holds you like this—close.

Hoseok looked like a magnificent kisser—you theorised—and your hypothesis was proven with the way he’s gentle yet assertive with the way his body moulds against your own.

You whine when he pulls away, your hands clutching at the front of his dress shirt. Only when you see his flushed cheeks, and swollen lips do you remember what was happening.

“_____—”

You punch him in the stomach.

Hard.

He grunts, doubling over as you glare at him.

“Are you insane?” You shriek.

He wheezes, clutching at his abdomen.

“You could’ve just told me you didn’t like me!” He snaps, shooting you a venomous glare.

Your mouth falls open as you give him one of your own venomous stares.

“Are you stupid?” You throw your hands into the air, “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“I was trying to be romantic!” He grits out.

You huff, and you soften for a moment to see him still holding onto his stomach.

You quietly reach out to him, holding him by the elbow like you did something wrong (punching him in the stomach) and look up at him with apologetic eyes.

“Does it really hurt?” You meekly ask.

"No. I'm on the floor because it's comfortable," He deadpans.

You pout as you flush a pretty shade of red.

He’s about to retort when he sees how guilty you look, then he sighs; reaching an arm around your shoulder to bring you into an embrace against his chest.

“It’d hurt a lot more if you were rejecting me.”

You scoff, leaning your cheek against his chest when you feel the movement of his chest with his deep breaths.

“Why couldn’t you ask me out like a normal person?” You complain.

He rolls his eyes.

“You’re not a conventional person to ask out.”

You narrow your eyes at him, and he wants to kiss you again because you’re the cutest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

So he does.

This time, you’re not as shocked, but it’s still as pleasant as when he first kissed you. You lean into his embrace, taking the initiative to run your hands across his shoulders and into his hair.

“We could’ve been doing this way longer if you weren’t such an annoying brat.” He mumbles against your lips.

The moment is broken when he returns to his normal self, but your heart still remains.

“Me? Annoying? You know what’s annoying—the fact that I spent six hours on Valentine’s Day sorting through your stupid documents because you wanted to hold me, hostage, here—”

Hoseok purses his lips as you progress through your rant, but in all honesty, you looked like a little rabbit that was frustrated than anything else, and all he feels in endearment.

He lets you have your moment, though—because he likes you like this—honest, unforgiving and so irrevocably yourself.

“—like, romantic? Please, Hoseok—you have zero romantic bones in your body and I’m pretty sure you’re 100% annoying than human—”

He pouts when you resort to insulting him, and he reaches for your cheeks to squeeze them in his palms so you’d stop.

“Okay enough of that, my feelings are hurt.” He pouts, “But … I’ll let you off the hook cause you’re so cute.”

You glare at him, cheeks still squished together like a chipmunk.

“I hathe eberything avout you.” You say through a muffled breath.

He sighs.

He releases your cheeks and begins packing up the trash, and you’re confused at the way his touch suddenly disappears and disappointed because you weren’t close to him anymore.

“Hobi?” You meekly call out, and he swears his heart stutters at the nickname.

“Can you stop being cute for one second and let me clean up?” He groans, shoving the stray paper bags away into the dustbin below his desk.

You blush even harder, keening under the praise.

You twiddle with your thumbs, awkwardly hovering by his desk as you watch him. You’d try to help, but there was something so utterly domestic and … homey about the way that Hoseok tuts you off when you reach out to pick something up.

Once he’s satisfied (because as annoying as he was, you applauded him for his neatness), he throws his blazer over his shoulder effortlessly, and shuts all the lights off, saying nothing more besides walking to the door.

You eye him curiously, wondering why he hasn’t uttered a single word yet, but as you’re about to open your mouth, he turns around to look at you over his shoulder with a raised brow.

“Are you coming?”

You tilt your head to the side.

“W-Where?”

“With me,” He shrugs his shoulders, leaning against the wooden frame of his door as you feel your heartbeat grow faster at how effortlessly good he looks under the dim light.

“I think I owe you a belated Valentine’s Day celebration, no?”

Oh.

#bts fic #bts fics #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts jhope #bts hobi #bts hoseok #hoseok x reader #JHOPE x reader #hobi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #hoseok imagine #hoseok fic #hobi fluff #hobi imagine #jhope fluff #jhope imagine

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hellimagines · 4 years

Text

Collateral -- JJ Maybank (Part One)

Masterlist

Summary: JJ’s stunt with Barry bites him in the ass when the angry drug dealer kidnaps you and decides you’re JJ’s collateral for the stolen money.

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, angst, mentions of child abuse and drug use

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!Routledge!reader

Word Count: 4,800+

A/N: I started writing this after binge-watching Outer Banks, and before I knew what was happening, I had written 20 pages of this and hadn’t even gotten to the climax… So, this has clearly been broken up into parts. I have part two already finished, and I’m almost finished with part three, but I’m not uploading them tonight because I want this to see the light of day first, and gain some love before I do anything. Please let me know what you guys think of this! I know there isn’t a lot of mushy-feely stuff in this chapter, and it’s mainly angst but, I had so much fun writing this, so please give it a chance and tell me what you think. Also, it’s canon divergent because I tweaked the DCS storyline and everything after John B. finds the first gold bar.

Your shift at The Wreck had been a long and strenuous one, more so than usual, because Kie hadn’t shown up for her night shift which left you to pull a double and cover for her. In your opinion, the nighttime customers were always worse than the morning customers since they typically consisted of kooks and tourons who expected the best of the best and nothing less. You had a short fuse, similar to your boyfriend, and would often get snippy with customers who complained about trivial things: their drinks having too much ice, their salad too much dressing, or their Chef’s Board not enough cheese or the wrong kind of cheese. Kie’s dad kept you on morning and afternoon shifts as much as possible due to the locals of The Cut coming to the cafe during those times, and your ability to make them feel at home while they ate their toast and sipped their coffee. So, having to work a night shift unexpectedly without a break from your morning shift left you feeling exhausted and detached from the world.

As peeved as you were with Kie for pulling a no-call-no-show, you were more worried than anything; especially when you noticed JJ wasn’t waiting outside to walk home with you like he normally was. You hadn’t heard from any of the other pogues since yesterday, when you had to go to work and they went over to Crain Mansion in search of the gold. You would’ve gone with them, but you couldn’t risk missing another day of work and possibly being fired. After your shift yesterday (and noticing the lack of blond curls outside the cafe), you had headed home with the plan to meet up with your friends and learn of any new updates--but, when you arrived, nobody was there. You waited around for the rest of the day, but when 10 o’clock rolled around and nobody had shown, you retreated to your bedroom and fell asleep. When you had woken up around 5 a.m to get ready for your shift at work, you were relieved to find JJ curled around you fast asleep, and your brother, Sarah, Kie, and Pope passed out together on the futon in the living room. They had a pot cradled between the four of them, but you thought nothing of it as you got ready for work. You left behind a note, asking them to stop by The Wreck when they woke up to fill you in on whatever you had missed, but they had never shown up.

Now, as you locked up The Wreck at the end of your 10 o’clock shift and waved to the cooks and other wait staff as you all parted ways, your worry only increased. The Cut was warm and humid as you made your way toward the chateau, forcing you to shed your work shirt in favor of the tanktop laying beneath. Your hair was pulled into a high-pony, and while it had been sleek and put together at 6 o’clock this morning, you now had frizzed strands falling into your face and the bottom of your hair was sticky from an exploded champagne bottle earlier that night. Your feet ached and your hips felt unbalanced from the constant speed-walking and maneuvering around tables and patrons, and you wanted nothing more than to collapse against JJ in your room and sleep for a solid 12 hours straight. Before you could do that, though, you had to continue your thirty-minute walk to said paradise and make sure everyone was okay.

As you left the hustle and bustle surrounding The Wreck and the docks, and ventured further into The Cut, you felt the tension beginning to ease out of your body at the familiar surroundings. As much as you loved The Wreck, you were not a fan of the kooks and tourons that migrated there throughout the night, bothering you during and after your shifts. As expected, the night held the worst of the batch, with alcohol and other drugs filtering their systems and giving them loose tongues and firm hands. Even though you could handle yourself and those who tried making a move on you, you never felt at ease or safe while leaving The Wreck; unless JJ or your friends were with you and you didn’t have to check over your shoulder every few feet. Crossing the imaginary threshold between The Wreck and The Cut always eased your mind, allowing you to slow your steps and cease checking your shoulder. This was also primarily because on The Cut, people knew who you were--not only as a waitress, a pogue, or (Y/N) Routledge, but as ‘JJ Maybank’s girl’. It pissed you off to no-end that people referred to you as ‘JJ’s girl’ more than your own name and you’d often chew people out on it, but you couldn’t deny the protection (and love and warmth and all-things-JJ) it gave you. You and JJ had been dating for two years, and while you loved him more than life and he loved you more than surfing, you often wished you could be seen as your own person: as (Y/N). Regardless of your annoyance at being solely known as JJ’s girl, as you walked the barely-lit streets of The Cut in nothing but a tank top and shorts, you were appreciative of your unofficial title. Very few people were walking around this late at night, but those who were offered you a simple nod or kept their eyes trained on the ground as you passed by, a complete contrast to the tourons near The Wreck. You expected this to continue until you reached your house, no longer looking over your shoulder for an unwanted kook or a touron that didn’t know the rules.

You turned another corner, now only fifteen minutes away from home, and rolled your shoulders to try and release some of the built-up tension you gained from your shift as you walked. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting your muscles relax and a gentle breeze from the ocean to cloud your senses. Just as you were about to open your eyes and continue forward, you heard footsteps approaching you from behind. Your eyes shot open and your body turned but before you could see who it was, you felt the barrel of a gun press against your lower back. The metal was cold against your tank top as it dug into you, the owner’s hand coming up to grab your shoulder and keep you from moving away.

“Maybank shouldn’t be leaving his things unattended, especially ones as pretty as you,” a voice muttered into your ear, jabbing the gun harshly into your spine. You froze, trying to place the voice to a face as you heard a vehicle approach and stop beside you.

“I’m not a thing, actually,” you retorted, keeping the fear out of your voice as the man behind you jerked you forward toward the black SUV. The backdoor swung open, but you couldn’t see who was driving it or if there was anyone else waiting for you inside. “What do you want? JJ isn’t his dad, whatever Luke’s done to piss you off is his own problem, not ours.”

The man laughed sharply in your ear as he shoved you forward, causing you to drop your shirt and tumble off the sidewalk, and your torso to fall into the backseat. You yelled out when the man grabbed your legs and pushed your body into the car, your body bending painfully as he slid in beside you. The door slammed shut and the man backed you into the corner of the SUV, caging your body against the door. Your hand shot down to the door handle, yanking on it to open the door and let you fall out, but it didn’t budge.

“Child lock, snowball. You’re not going anywhere.”

You looked up, finally able to see the man’s face as he grinned down at you. His grill shined each time the SUV passed under a streetlight and the black hair dangling in his face tickled your nose from how close he was. Instantly, you brought your foot up and kicked him in the stomach, pushing him away from you as you struggled to sit up.

“What the fuck do you want, Barry?” you snapped while the dealer across from you laughed loudly and held onto his stomach.

He smirked at you, “I forgot how much of a kicker you were, snowball.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been tryin’ to sell blow to fucking 8th graders,” you shot back, glaring at him. “Now tell me what the fuck you want.”

He raised his hands in surrender, the smirk never falling from his face. “I want my fucking money back. You little shits stole 25k from my goddamn house.”

“What the fuck are you on about? The last time I went to your shithole was a year ago to buy an 8ball,” you scoffed.

“And while I do miss the revenue you brought me during your time as a cokehead, I’m not talking about you, snowball. Your boy, your brother, your brother’s new whore, the ex-kook, and Heyward’s son stole from me. I know you’re too smart and levelheaded to pull a stunt like that, and the ex-kook and her boyfriend have too much going for them to fuck it up by crossing me. This means it was either your boy or your brother,” Barry explained, his jaw tight with anger as he spoke.

“First of all, Kie and Pope have names. Second of all, they’re not dating. Third of all, what makes you think it wasn’t Sarah? From what I’ve heard, the Cameron’s have a history of robbing you blind.”

“Because my sister is too much of a pansy to pull a stunt like this, and she doesn’t even know who the fuck Barry is.” Your head shot up at the new voice, and you made eye contact with Rafe in the rearview mirror. “You dirty pogues have corrupted my sister.”

“I see someone’s been bitched,” you chuckled with a roll of your eyes. Rafe’s foot slammed on the break and caused you to slam into the back of the passenger seat with an oomph. He turned around, his arm already raised to throw a punch, when Barry grabbed it first.

“Chill the fuck out, Country Club. Can’t go beaten on her just yet. Now hurry the fuck up and get us to the hanger.” Rafe’s nostrils flared at Barry’s demand, and after a moment of his fist flexing in Barry’s hold, Rafe relented. He jerked his arm back and continued driving in silence. “Don’t piss off the driver, snowball,” Barry tsked, waving his finger in your face.

“Look, why would JJ or Birdie steal 25 thousand dollars from you? You know how much JJ despises you and your business because of what it’s done to his dad and the hole I fell into last year, and my brother doesn’t even know who the hell you are. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Barry chuckled, “I see they’ve kept you in the dark. Did they tell you about the gold they found? That they tried pawning off to me this morning?” At the frown on your face and your furrowed brows, Barry laughed even harder. “Oh yeah, they brought in a seven-pound chunk of gold to the shop this morning. Offered ‘em a cashier’s check worth a couple thousand, but your boy is quite the negotiator. So, I sent them to the warehouse for the cash they wanted.”

“And let me take a wild-fucking-guess: on their way, you jumped them, stole the gold, and left them with nothing but dirt under their nails?”

Barry grinned at your words, his tongue sliding over his grill as he laughed. “See, this is why they should’ve brought you along! Would’ve saved them from all the trouble they’ve gotten themselves into.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well fuck, no wonder they stole from you. You stole from them first, Barry. An eye for a fucking eye, it’s the way of the jungle ‘round here. It’s the only damn law you follow.”

“You’re right, it is the only law I follow. Which is why you’re here, snowball. You see, before I could complete my task, they jumped me and stole my wallet and the gold. You’re smart, I bet you’re starting to see the problem now. No gold, no wallet, no 25k,” Barry seethed, the smirk falling from his face as he leaned forward, pushing you back into the corner of the seat. “JJ Maybank stole from me, plain as day. If I had seven pounds of gold in my hand it would be different, I wouldn’t be as pissed. But, you see, I don’t. So, as you said, it’s an eye for an eye. And what better to steal from JJ Maybank, than the only thing he cares about? The only thing he owns?”

“He doesn’t own me, so jot that down.”

Barry threw his head back and laughed loudly, shooting an unnerving feeling down your spine. Rafe laughed along, though anyone could tell it was forced as his eyes darted from the mirror to the road. “This entire goddamn island knows that he owns you, snowball, and you damn well know it too. Which means until I get my money back, you’re my collateral.”

The bruises decorating JJ’s torso ached with each step he took, but he had to keep moving toward the chateau: he had to prove to the others that he was good. He had to prove that he could do the right thing with the money he stole. Even if his dad couldn’t do the right thing, and wouldn’t let him back in the house without another beating, JJ could do the right thing and be good. Even if he stole the money it didn’t matter, because Barry stole his life, and Barry didn’t deserve the money, and Barry wasn’t good. The money would pay off his restitution, and you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore and Pope wouldn’t have to feel guilty or worry about it anymore, either. Nobody would have to worry about him anymore, and it would all be good.

But as JJ limped up the chateau’s steps, repeating to himself that, ‘it was all good, he was good, and everything would be good,’ he wasn’t expecting for the screen door to slam open and for John B. to body slam him into the ground. The blue thermos shot from his grip as he was flung down the stairs, and JJ couldn’t bite back his scream of pain when his already-aching body slammed into the dirt. He didn’t get a second to gather his bearings before John B. was pummeling his fists into his stomach and his arms and his face and anywhere else he could land a hit. JJ couldn’t even lift his legs to fight off his best friend from beating on his twice-battered body.

“This all your fault!” John B. screamed, his face an angry red as tears and spit rained down onto JJ. “He took her because of you!” He ceased his punches only to wrap his hands around JJ’s throat, squeezing and pressing down in an attempt to strangle the life out of his best friend.

Faintly, JJ could hear Pope, Kie, and Sarah screaming, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His entire body felt cold but his head felt hot, and the buzzing in his ears was growing louder and louder until it was all he could hear. He could see John B.’s face above him, his lips moving as he screamed and sobbed, and JJ could see his own blood splattered on his best friend’s jaw and shirt. Black spots began to dance in front of his eyes, moving inward until he could only see the murderous rage filling John B.’s eyes. Just as the darkness settled over him, he felt John B.’s weight lift off of him and air came rushing back into his lungs. For a few seconds, all JJ could do was choke on the air whilst his body convulsed, and someone rolled him onto his side in a desperate hurry.

“-eathe, breathe JJ, come on.” Someone was talking to him, rubbing their hand up and down his back as he continued to shake. He still couldn’t see anything and he couldn’t tell who was talking to him and rubbing his back and all he really wanted to do was blackout for a bit. A harsh slap against the center of his back had other plans, causing the air to finally force itself into his lungs. JJ began to cough violently, continuing to choke on the air that was now entering his body. He tried pushing himself to his knees as he dry-heaved onto the ground, but his shaking arms and legs were too weak to support him.

Pope was yelling in the background, “Chill the fuck out, JB! You almost killed him!”, his voice bringing JJ’s senses back to where they belonged.

“He fucking deserves it! He’s the reason she’s gone!” John B. yelled back, his voice deeper than JJ could remember. JJ blinked a few times, trying to focus on the bloody grass in front of him while his two friends continued fighting in the distance.

“Hey, just keep breathing,” the person helping him - who JJ now recognized as Kie - soothed, pulling his sweaty hair out of his face as more blood dribbled from his lips. She was upset, JJ could tell by the way her hands were shaking and the sound of wet sniffles every few seconds. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, who John B. was talking about, but all that came out was a harsh wheeze from his burning lungs and even more blood. “Don’t- don’t say anything. Please, JJ, just… just breathe for a few minutes,” Kie whimpered before a sob slipped from her lips.

He did as she asked and allowed his eyes to close, his body sinking into the ground as he focused on regulating his breathing. After a few minutes, JJ could hear John B. storm inside the chateau, kicking JJ’s crumpled body on his way up the stairs.

“John B., stop it!” Sarah yelled as she followed him inside.

Pope came and knelt in front of JJ, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to help him sit up. “You fucked up, JJ, worse than I ever thought possible,” Pope sighed as he adjusted JJ against the railing.

“What-” JJ broke off to cough into his fist, ignoring the blood that splattered across his hand, “what happened?” His voice was hoarse and barely understandable, but Kie and Pope knew what he was saying.

“You stole twenty-five-thousand dollars from a drug dealer. One of the most nefarious drug dealers on this island, that’s what happened,” Kie said, standing up and pacing in front of the blond. “What did you think was gonna happen, JJ? That he’d let it go?”

“What did he take? The HMS Pogue?” JJ rasped, looking up at his friends in confusion. “(Y/N)’ll be pissed, but we can get it back, or I’ll buy her and John B. a new one with the money.” His thoughts didn’t make sense inside of his pounding head, but he still voiced them regardless.

“How are you so stupid?” Pope yelled, causing JJ to flinch as the other to shot to his feet. “Why would John B. try to kill you over a boat? Don’t you think (Y/N) would be out here yelling at you, too?”

“My girl doesn’t yell, you know that, Pope,” JJ shook his head. “She’s got work and the boat- the boat is all they’ve got left of Big John,” JJ said, coughing a few times. His head was foggy and his vision was still blurry, so he couldn’t see the mentioned boat sitting on the dock to his left.

“No, JJ,” Kie sighed, “Barry didn’t take the HMS. He took (Y/N). He left a note on the van--he wants his money back, plus the gold, and an extra 5k in exchange for (Y/N). He’ll be back in a week to make the trade.”

“He didn’t say what he’d do to her if we don’t give him what he wants but… it’s not something that needs to be said,” Pope whispered as he carefully watched for JJ’s reaction.

A cold chill fell over JJ, causing him to shiver violently despite the warm temperature outside. “You’re lying,” he spat, forcing himself to his feet. Pope and Kie backed up, steering clear of his sudden burst of energy. “You’re fucking lying, she’s not- she’s not gone, he didn’t lay a fucking finger on her. Barry knows better. You just… you just want me to return the money, that’s it, she’s fine, she’s inside right now, she’s-”

“JJ, stop, please,” Kie cried as JJ spun around, tripping over himself in his haste to run up the stairs. Pope grabbed ahold of him before he could make it very far, pulling him away from the house and John B.’s anger. JJ flailed in his grasp, but he was too weak from the lack of oxygen and two beatings his body had just endured, to fight Pope off.

“She’s fine!” he screamed, not noticing the tears that were falling from his eyes. “I told her I would protect her, I promised nobody would ever lay a finger on her! She’s inside, and she’s fine--Barry didn’t fucking touch my girl, you’re lying,” he sobbed, straining against Pope’s hold on his biceps.

“Why would we lie about this?” Kie yelled back, suddenly overwhelmed with having to watch JJ fall apart like this in front of her. “Why would your best fucking friend try and beat you to death if it wasn’t true? Why would the gold have been included in the letter? Huh JJ? Do you think (Y/N) would have ever gone along with something like this?” she screamed, her voice hoarse from crying as well.

“We’re telling the truth, JJ. She’s gone,” Pope said, holding onto JJ even tighter as his thrashing momentarily increased.

JJ let the words wash over him, the truth of his mistake settling deep in his bones. The guilt, and the grief, and the anger weighed him down, and before he could stop himself, he let out a deep, guttural, inhumane scream of agony. Pope couldn’t hold him up anymore as JJ’s knees gave out, his entire body collapsing to the ground while he screamed. His throat burned more than it had before and he didn’t notice when his voice gave out, leaving him a mess on the floor with spit and blood dribbling from his gaping mouth. Pope cradled JJ to his chest, crying into his best friend’s shoulder while Kie fell beside the two, trying to get JJ to breathe again through her own tears.

Half an hour later, you were pulling up beside a hanger at the very back of a storage facility. You knew kooks used this area to store their boats, planes, cars, and other expensive things when they weren’t intending to be used in the near future--so you weren’t surprised when Rafe got out of the van and opened up the hanger, revealing a vintage boat and a handful of different furniture. With hurricane season already underway, and summer having begun, you knew kooks weren’t going to be visiting the storage facility very often, meaning there wasn’t a high hope that someone would stumble across you.

“Welcome to your new home, snowball,” Barry leered, before opening the backdoor and dragging you out of the SUV. He kept the gun pressed against your waist while leading you into the hanger, leaving Rafe to pull the SUV around the corner. It was cold inside, much colder than you were expecting, and you had to fight to keep a shiver from trickling down your spine. “You and I are gonna be real comfortable in here for the next week, maybe longer if your boy doesn’t come through.”

‘He’ll come through’, you thought to yourself, worry spiking inside of you at the mention of JJ. You looked over your shoulder as Rafe came into the hanger and loudly pulled the door down behind him. “So, what? You’re just going to keep me locked up in here until you get what you want? I have a fucking job, Barry. I’ve already called out enough as it is, pulling a no-call-no-show for an entire week is going to get me fired.”

Barry reeled around to stare at you, an incredulous look on his face. “I’ve just kidnapped you and held you at gunpoint, and you’re worried about your damn job?” he asked, waving the gun in front of your face for emphasis.

“Uh, yeah, no shit. My job is the only reason DCS hasn’t snatched me and my brother into the system. Mr. Carrera has agreed to help us maneuver a few technicalities with DCS--so long as I take on extra shifts when needed, and show the fuck up. Plus, a week’s worth of zero tips means bills won’t be paid and stomachs won’t be fed,” you scoffed, knocking the gun away from your face.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in, snowball-”

“Ay, nuh-uh, Country Club. Get your own nickname,” Barry cut in, prompting you to raise your eyebrows.

“But you-”

“Nope. Get your own.”

Rafe paused, glaring down at you in thought, before nodding to himself. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in, Maybitch-”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you groaned, pressing your fingers to your forehead in exasperation. ‘It’s got a nice ring to it, though, and JJ would eat it up… Could even get a laugh out of Pope, I bet,’ you couldn’t help but think.

Barry knocked the gun against Rafe’s shoulder, shutting him up with a look of annoyance. “Your boy has gotten himself in a lotta trouble, 25k worth of trouble. So until I get my fucking money, you’re not going anywhere,” Barry simplified.

You pouted in mock disappointment, “Could you at least write a note to my boss?” Barry groaned with a roll of his eyes before he nodded his head at Rafe and directed him toward something you couldn’t see. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you, Bear. JJ and the others have probably spent the money already. JJ’s got restitution to pay, Pope has an interview he needs a suit for, Kie’s been wanting a new surfboard, and Birdie’s been wanting to fix up our boat with somethin’ pretty. There’s no way they’d let 25 thousand dollars burn a hole in their pockets.”

Barry chuckled darkly with a shake of his head and turned your body around. He forced you to face the spot he had sent Rafe to, where you saw a metal chair bolted to the ground with Rafe stood beside it. He held a boat chain, a lock, and zip ties in his hands and a wicked grin was cracked along his face. Barry moved your ponytail out of the way so he could lean his chin on your shoulder, taking satisfaction in the way your body trembled. “Trust me, snowball, after they see how well you’ve been treated at Hotel Barry, they’ll find a way to get me my money. And you,” he paused to laugh softly in your ear, “you’ll be providing me all the information I need on where to find the rest of that gold.”

‘I’m so fucked.’

All Writing Taglist (OPEN): @sophster1881 @alilcloudy

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks imagines #outer banks x reader #the pogues #the pogues imagine #the pogues imagines #the pogues x reader #outer banks netflix

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babydaddyleorio · 4 years

Text

Tantalizing (Toji x reader)

pairings: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader

word count: 1,649

summary: You are the director of a security company, charged with the simple task of selling your technology to esteemed businesses. The simple task, however, becomes more complicated than you imagined when you meet Mr.Fushiguro. Buckle up because work becomes a lot more difficult when the heart gets involved.

warnings: slight cursing, grammatical errors

AN: y/n = your name , l/n= last name

You sat in your black, leather chair while focusing all of your attention towards decreasing the stacks of paper that were currently piled on top of your wooden desk. You had, much to your dismay, procrastinated completing your work for the past week and now you were reaping the consequences of going into overdrive. You clenched the ballpoint pen that was in your hand rather tightly, and your feet tapped against the grey carpet with impatience. You felt like banging your head against your desk, repeatedly might you add, and you probably would’ve done so if your eyes didn’t catch the shadow of someone moving towards you from your peripheral.

“Knock, knock.” Your assistant, Nadia, tapped her knuckles on your door frame while peeking her head into your office. You glanced up from your papers with low eyes as she walked towards the printer sitting in your corner, suddenly deciding to yourself that talking to her would be the perfect excuse to take a break from doing your work. You then straightened your posture and cleared your throat loudly, Nadia already rolling her eyes at your predictable behavior.

“So, Nadia-”

“No, don’t even think about it.” Nadia wagged her finger and sang her words to you in a teasing manner, simultaneously pushing buttons on the printer she stood in front of. “You are not using me to get out of your work.”

“Why nooootttt?” you groaned loudly and threw your head back against your leather chair, eyes rolling up to glare at your ceiling. Nadia turned to face you with papers in her hand, fixing her beige hijab while doing so.

“Because you have a deadline you have to meet.” Nadia stated matter of factly to which you side eyed her with annoyance.

“Deadline my ass, I’m taking a nap.” You murmured and reached over to lift a messy stack of documents so you��d have more room to sleep on your desk. Nadia furrowed her eyebrows and stormed towards you, rolling up the papers in her hand before whacking you on the head with them.

“Ouch, what was that for?” You whined while holding the top of your head, a pain now circulating in the spot that she hit. You glanced up at the annoyed woman who stood in front of you with her arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked challengingly. The thing was, Nadia was not only your assistant, but she also happened to be your best friend as well. Nobody could really tell that the two of you were close because she always kept your relationship professional and cordial while at work, but sometimes her “take no shit” side (as she would call It) would slip through the cracks of her cool façade.

“Y/n, I am this,” Nadia pinched her fingers together while shoving them in your face. “close to molly-whopping you if you don’t finish these damn papers.”

You rolled your eyes at her threat, but still chose to pick your pen back up because you weren’t in the mood to test her right now. Once Nadia saw that you were getting back to your work, she brought her hand to her mouth and blew you a kiss.

“Love you, bestie.” She cooed in a sickly-sweet voice and turned around to strut out of your office. You looked up from your papers with squinted eyes, slyly sticking your tongue out at the back of your retreating assistant.

“Also, don’t forget that you have a meeting with the Zen’in Association in 3 hours! So chop, chop!” She called out over her shoulder with a smirk and this time you didn’t stop your head as It fell on to your desk.

✧✧✧

“I think I have a wedgie.” You whispered into Nadia’s ear as you stood next to her in the elevator, hand reaching behind you to pull the annoyance out. Nadia rolled her eyes and looked at the watch on her wrist.

“At least we got here on time, although you really need to work on your driving.” She chided and you looked at her with your forehead scrunched.

“My driving is completely fine.” you scoffed, slightly offended at what your assistant was insinuating.

“Oh please, you are the definition of road rage.” She said while rubbing her temples and you clicked your tongue in disagreement.

“It’s not my fault some people are complete idiots behind the wheel.” You said and Nadia snapped her head to look at you.

“And you’re not one of them?!” She asked with her eyebrows raised high.

You snorted as the elevator doors pulled open. The both of you walked out of It and were immediately met with the receptionist who sat behind the desk that was placed in the center of the room.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The woman asked with both hands clasped together and a smile on her face, revealing a set of deep dimples. You and Nadia walked towards her and Nadia pulled out a paper from the manila folder she had in her hands.

“We’re here for our appointment that is scheduled today.” Nadia replied and the receptionist took the paper from her hand. She then examined the white sheet, but It seemed like the more her eyes drifted over the information on the paper, the more the bright smile on her face disappeared.

“Oh.. It seems that you’ve arrived promptly for your appointment with Mr.Fushiguro.” The receptionist said, you picking up on the hint of nervousness that was now intertwined in her voice. Her sudden mood change threw you off and you wondered to yourself what would have shaken the girl up in that short amount of time.

The receptionist stood up from her rolling chair and politely told you to “hold on one second” while bowing. She then scurried off through one of the doors behind her, leaving you and Nadia standing in front of the wooden desk completely baffled.

“Well that was weird.” You said out loud and Nadia nodded in response.

“Right, I wonder what got into her...” Nadia trailed off, just as lost as you were.

Moments later, the receptionist came back, but this time an extremely tall woman followed behind her. The new woman wore a yellow, sunflower dress with white wedges on her polished feet and her faux locs pulled into a high ponytail. She had a bright smile plastered on her sun kissed face as she moved to stand in front of you.

“Good afternoon, It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I am Mr.Fushiguro’s assistant and you can call me Laila.” The woman chirped happily, extending her hand to shake Nadia and yours. The woman’s persona was a complete contradiction to the receptionist’s ghostly one and your eyes trailed back to her sitting behind the desk with her eyes now casted downward.

“Ms. L/N, I will escort you to the 1-on-1 meeting now. Your assistant can wait in the waiting room until you're done.” Laila nodded and began walking towards a hallway, beckoning for you to follow behind her.

The Zen’in headquarters was very fancy and also seemingly calm, you thought to yourself as you trailed Fushiguro’s assistant. The whole place had a dark theme going on with black marble structure, black colored furniture, black framed paintings... hell It seemed like even all the employees were clad in black- well minus Laila that is. You whistled to yourself lowly with your hands in your pant’s pockets, eyes wandering to look out the tall glass windows that framed the hallway. To be completely honest, you really wanted to skip this meeting. You would rather be at home, binging your favorite show while munching on some very questionable healthy snacks, but unfortunately you had priorities to attend to. You were in charge of a security company that dealt with supplying high-grade technology to other businesses and that is essentially why you were here today. From what you were told, the Zen’in association was run by a prestigious family, Toji Fushiguro being one of its members. You were supposed to meet with a different family member today to discuss the arrangements of your products, but for some reason you were swapped to consult with Toji instead.

Whatever, It didn’t make you any difference anyway.

“Ms. L/N, we’re here.” Laila interrupted your thoughts and you turned to see that she had stopped in front of a tall, black door. Laila then knocked twice on the smooth marble before turning the handle and stepping inside the room, you taking that as a sign to follow behind her. As soon as your foot stepped over the threshold, you took note of how the office reeked of expensiveness and still matched the dark theme that the whole building had, but It also seemed minimalistic as well.

“I see you finally made It.” A low voice suddenly reached your ears and you whipped your head to the side to see a man that was blanketed by darkness sitting in the corner of the room. The man reached an arm behind to adjust the blinds, and you squinted your eyes at the sudden bright light that hit you, and once they adjusted they caught sight of the man’s appearance. The man wore an obsidian, polished suit with a white shirt underneath that was slightly unbuttoned. His legs were spread wide, and he had his elbow propped on the arm of the chair as the other twirled around a glass of alcohol.

“Toji Fushiguro.” The man said with eyes scanning your body, slowly moving his glass toward his mouth to take a sip from his drink. You stood immobile in your spot as you watched his veiny hand set the glass down on the table beside him and lean his body over, extending his hand for you to shake while smirking with his eyes low. “Pleasure to meet you.”

#toji #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #toji fanfic #toji fushiguro fanfic

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dryemiddi · 3 years

Text

“A Burden Broken” - A HANDPLATES short fic

Sooo, not too long ago I was binging seasons 1 and 2 of Handplates, and this idea kinda came to me. I essentially spent the following few hours writing a scene based on that idea. You can read Handplates HERE

Handplates is by @zarla-s

Undertale is by Toby Fox

The loud whir of a screwdriver echoes through the lab, bouncing off of metal walls and half packed boxes of supplies. Gaster sits with 2-P, working carefully as 1-S sits nearby. His toes are curled up, eyes narrowed; but he doesn’t make a move.

“Shouldn’t it be hurting..?” 2-P watches his skeletal hand, his forehead sweating. Gaster stops the drill for a moment to place a screw on the table.

“The painkillers stop you from feeling it.”

This seems to upset 1-S, “you mean you could’ve just used them this WHOLE TIME?!” The drill cuts him off before he can say anything more. A moment later, another screw clatters onto the table.

“He’s using them now!” 2-P calls out from behind him. “And he’s been doing a whole lot better, might I add! When was the last time he hurt us?”

1-S can’t help but sigh, “I know, but just-”

“Three whole weeks!” 2-P quips. “Or- more than that. Almost a month, I believe!”

With two more rounds of drilling and two more screws removed. The screwdriver is placed onto the table. In a quiet moment riddled with anticipation, a sheet of metal joins the screws on the table.

‘WDG-2 P’.

2-P stands up after Gaster’s healing magic takes effect, studying his newly freed hand. Gaster looks up at the smaller skeleton, “You’re next, 1-S.”

When 1-S doesn’t come to him, Gaster lets out a huff. “Do you want it off or not?”

That seems to do it. 1-S goes and sits down where his brother had, Gaster now taking the screwdriver and meticulously aligning it with one of the handplate’s screws. When the first round of drilling passes, 1-S sits up straight.

“Why the change of heart, anyway?”

“We all know, brother!” 2-P takes his attention off of his hand. “He’s been improving! He’s been gradually coming to terms with his actions, and making amends for them!” 1-S narrows his eyes at Gaster.

“It’s more than that.”

The old skeleton removes two more screws before answering. He pauses, his tone softening ever so slightly, “I failed to do what I needed in time.”

“In time? So there was a time limit for how long you had to torment us?” the snarky side of 1-S returns.

“I suppose,” the doctor finishes with the last screw, and with it, the plate comes off. ‘WDG-1 S’. 1-S retracts and studies his hand once it’s healed. It feels so much lighter.

“So everything you did to us was really for nothing, huh?”

“It is now.”

“What happened, then?”

Gaster pauses again, “hm?”

“What happened to make things too late?” 1-S leans back in his chair, studying the weary skeleton.

Gaster takes in a long moment of silence, turning off the drill and putting the screws away, “that doesn’t matter.”

“Well that doesn’t answer my question.”

2-P cuts in, “what matters is that he’s changed for the better! He didn’t have to take these off! And he even gave us books and photos about the outside!”

Gaster takes 2-P’s cut in to get out of the conversation, “I’ll be a few minutes. Stay here.” He leaves 1-S and 2-P alone in the open room. After a moment of silence, 1-S spins his attention to his brother.

“The exit should be where he left, right? C’mon, we don’t have much time.”

“He’s been good to us, why would we need to escape?”

1-S starts to hurry out of the room,“he could relapse, that’s why! Sure, he’s changed, but no way am I taking any chances with him, alright?”

In a moment of pressure, 2-P follows his brother.

The old skeleton stands near the exit, packing things into bags. Gaster grumbles when he notices the taller 2-P peek around the corner, “what did I tell you about staying put?” When 2-P retreats out of view, Gaster lets out a tired sigh. “You know what? Both of you just stay here…”

Both skeletons come back into view, now curious at what Gaster was doing. He had two full backpacks ready. A pair of clothes laid on top of each bag.

“Get changed, you two.”

Both skeletons are puzzled, but change from their gowns to the jacket, pants, and shoes anyway. 1-S narrows his eyes as he looks inside one of the backpacks, “What’s with all of this?”

“Someone else did what had to be done. I have no use for you two anymore. I’m sure you both want nothing to do with me, either.”

2-P lights up, “you mean you’re letting us outside?”

“Yes.”

1-S is in disbelief, “Just like that?”

“The backpacks will have everything you need,” Gaster lets the two smaller skeletons pick up the bags as he turns to the door. Placing his hand on the sensor, the door slides open, revealing the volcanic landscape of Hotland.

A moment of stunned awe passes through both 1-S and 2-P, before they both rush out to experience the outside for the first time. While 1-S fully basks his attention at the first taste of freedom, 2-P glances back at Gaster. He’s still standing in the lab.

“You’re not coming with us?”

“It’s better this way.”

“That’s okay! Maybe we can see eachother again!”

But 2-P’s brother stops that thought, “I don’t think that’s happening, bro.”

“Your b-... Your brother is right, 2-P,” Gaster is still processing everything that was happening. So much was changing, and so fast.

“So that’s it?” 1-S is also processing the situation, “we’re both free now?”

“We’re all free now.”

Gaster closes the door, leaving his two former subjects outside.

-END-

Well, this was quite different compared to what I usually post, but nonetheless I hoped y’all appreciated and enjoyed the read! Don’t forget to like, reblog, and consider following!

#Handplates #Undertale #fanfiction #A Burden Broken #only 900-1k words long #a short read #non canon #Gaster #W.D. Gaster #Sans #Papyrus #1-S #2-P #zarla-s #not my best work #but i'm still proud of it

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

I Hurt Too

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Warnings: Implied smut, domestic violence? Angry Dean, Hurt!Dean, Jealous!Dean, Language, hurt feelings, angst, some fluff. Multiple view points.

Word Count: 6136

Request: hi there! I have seen loads of fics and one shots where Dean is sleeping around/having a one night stand and the reader gets jealous and upset, but I was wondering if I could request one with the other way around? or maybe one where they sleep around equally? as smutty, fluffy, or angst as you want!!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by the lovely @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much hun! As always please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one!

Want More? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

Dean’s POV:

The concert floor of the bunker was cold under Dean’s feet as he swung his legs off of the bed, and placed his feet gingerly on the floor. He was being very mindful of the injury to his knees that he got during the last hunt. It protested with every movement, and being in his forties now, it seemed he didn’t heal up as quickly as he used to.

Standing with a deep growl, Dean stretched the muscles that protested against his movements, his eyes wandering over the empty liquor bottle that was sitting on his nightstand. He let out a long sigh, and picked up the bottle, throwing it in the trash can by the door as he hobbled his way out of his room, and towards the kitchen in search of coffee.

Dean’s feet dragging along the empty hallways of the Bunker seemed to echo more than they usually did in the morning. Sammy had either still been asleep, as it was really, really early; or he was already on his run. Y/N must have still been out with a conquest from the night before, because he’d been up most of the night, and she still hadn’t made it home by the time he finally drank enough to pass out, and ignore the throbbing pain in his knee.

As he made his way closer to her room, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing the door open just a little, and peeking inside to see if she’d actually came home, or if she was still out with whatever bar room wonder she let take her home last night that wasn’t him.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her body covered up in the pile of covers that she always kept on her bed. Her back was to the door, and the easy rise and fall of the covers told him she was still fast asleep, so he shut the door quietly behind him, and continued his way towards the kitchen.

Normally he would have been right there with her at the bar last night. It had been a successful hunt, other than his busted knee, and that was due to his own clumsiness, and nothing really to do with a monster. He knew the stairs were rotten, and that he should have been taking them slower than he was, but Sammy was out running him, and that looked bad. He didn’t want to look weak in front of Y/N, so he rushed up the stairs, and as he got to the middle of the old rotten staircase, it had given way under his weight, sending his leg through the wood, and pulling his knee pretty good.

His adrenaline was high at the time, chasing the Werewolf through the old abandoned house, so he hadn’t really paid the injury much attention. He just jerked it out of the hole he’d fallen through, and continued his chase. Ultimately, Sam had successfully killed the Werewolf before he got there.

Three hours into the drive back to the Bunker though, he felt it, and by the time he’d gotten home and put Baby in park, he could hardly put any weight on it.

Y/N fussed over him as he hobbled his way to his room, but Dean wanted nothing more than to get his jeans off, and put on a pair of loose sweats. Again, he refused to show how hurt he actually was in an attempt not to look weak, even though she could clearly see him limping.

She’d offered to stay back at the Bunker last night, and binge watch Dr. Sexy with him instead of going out to the local watering hole, but Dean had told her to go ahead and go. He didn’t want to hold her back from having a good time by making her stay here with him.

After about an hour of bickering, she had agreed to let him stay behind, and she went out on her own.

He wanted to just get drunk, and pass out, but his mind wouldn’t let him do that right away, and getting drunk enough to black out wasn’t as easy as it used to be for him. So instead, he lay there alone in his dark room, picturing things he wished he wasn’t.

Some strangers hands on the body he wanted more than anything to hold against his. Some random sinking into her in a way that he wished only he was allowed to do. His mouth on hers as their bodies moved together.

Would she moan for him? Would he be able to give her what she needed? Would he hold her when it was all over, the way Dean wanted so badly to do, but was never able to shove down his own stubbornness, and tell her how he felt. Instead, he justified his actions by saying, “she’s safer not knowing how I feel,” or “they can’t hurt because of me, if no one knows,” but deep down he felt like his heart was being ripped out every time he saw her on someone else’s arm.

Dean poured his coffee, and sat down at the table in the kitchen with a huff, running his fingers through his hair, and pulling the short strands hard enough to feel the sting in an attempt to pull the images that were threatening to invade his mind out before they could hurt him further. The only thing he knew to do at this point in order to save his sanity was to push her away. Maybe if he did that, then it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

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Your POV: Two weeks later

You dry your hair roughly before throwing the towel into the hamper by the door, and pull it into a messy bun as you make your way towards the kitchen in search of coffee. It was early, and Dean wouldn’t be up for probably another hour. You were sure Sam was out on his morning run, and he had mentioned something last night about going on a supply run before the next case.

You’d all been working non stop for weeks. Local cases. Things that normally would be overlooked, but Dean was insistent on staying busy. You didn’t know why, but Dean had been acting really strange since he’d hurt his knee on that hunt in Wichita Falls.

It had started when he’d refused to speak to you all day the next day. Then it progressively got worse, and now he walked around acting like you didn’t exist, going as far as to hand Sam his rabbit food last night, but not even handing you your burger, just getting his food out of the bag, then throwing it on the table for you to find for yourself.

He wasn’t even communicating with you during hunts, which made things that much more difficult and dangerous. When you finally got back to the Bunker this morning, you were well planning to go blow off some steam, and get away from this new Dean that you were learning you didn’t like so much.

At first it had really hurt that Dean had started to treat you so badly. You had always liked Dean more than just a “big brother” or friend, the way you saw Sam. The two of you were close at one time.

You didn’t know what had caused the switch. You’d gone over and over it in your head, but you couldn't figure out what you had done to him in order to turn him against you. There wasn’t a chance in hell you’d get him to actually tell you what you had done wrong. So you thought at first it would pass, not get worse.

Making your way over to your dresser you pull out a simple black tank top, and a short denim skirt. It wasn’t like you were planning to ‘keep them on all night’, you just wanted them to catch the attention you needed in order to get what you desired tonight, and they had never failed you yet.

Before you could even turn around to grab your hair brush off the desk in your room, you hear a curse, and a fumbling noise behind you before your door closes. Furrowing your brow in confusion, you walk over to the door, and open it, seeing Dean’s back retreating to his room, before his door slams with enough force to knock dust down from the ceiling.

Looking down at your feet you see a busted whiskey glass, and a good amount of amber liquid still on the floor. Your eyes evert back to the door that Dean had just disappeared behind, and then down to the mess..

You must have left the door open when you had come into the room, but why would Dean be so upset if he saw you about to get ready to go out? Hell, he does it as much as you. The whole motel knew his name was Dean Fucking Winchester thanks to the whore he’d brought back last night, and her impressive vocal range.

Grabbing the discarded towel you’d just used to dry your hair, you clean up the mess caused by the spilled liquor, your mind still wondering just what you had done so fucking wrong.

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Four hours later you tried to close the heavy door to the Bunker as quietly as you could as you snuck back inside. Sure, it was past midnight, but you also knew that Dean could be somewhat of a night owl, and you really didn’t want to have a run in with him coming home from yet another one night stand. Especially after whatever the fuck happened outside your bedroom door before you left tonight.

You had wanted to confront him, ask him if something was wrong, but the way he’d been treating you kept you at bay and you just decided to go on about your business, and leave Dean to whatever brooding he was doing.

The Bunker was dark, all but the kitchen light that seemed to stay on all the time, and a weak light that illuminated from the map table in the war room as you descended the stairs. You spilled your shoes off at the top of the iron staircase in order to make your footsteps lighter as you went.

You didn’t see the man sitting at the table in the dark library until he spoke just as you made your way to the mouth of the hallway, and when you heard his voice you nearly had a mini heart attack.

“You’re home early,” Dean said, flipping the lamp on, revealing himself in the back corner of the library.

“Fuck Dean! You scared the shit out of me,” you hissed, turning on your heels to face him fully.

Dean rose from his seat and staggered a little, grabbing the table for support as he swayed slightly on his feet. You had only seen Dean that drunk once. It was the night he’d been cured from being a Demon. After Sam had gone to bed, the two you stayed up all night long drinking because you were too afraid to leave him alone. It was close to five in the morning before he’d finally passed out.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he made his way closer to you, using the tables as support.

“Dean, you need to go sleep that off,” you tell him, taking a tentative step closer to him. You didn’t know what was bothering Dean exactly, but whatever it was it must be big for him to let himself go this way.

“Fuck you.You don’t get to tell me what to do. I didn’t tell you not to go fuck that loser bartender again tonight did I? Fuck no, but you whored yourself up, and marched that perky little ass of your right into his car to do God knows what. I never knew you were so fucking easy Y/N.”

His words cut deep. Dean had never spoken to you like that, and the fact that the first thing he’d said to you in days was an insult was a huge kick in the gut. Taking a step back from him, you turn to head towards your room. You hadn’t gotten very far before Dean caught up with you, grabbing your arm and spinning you around, pressing your back against the wall harshly.

“I wasn’t fucking done with you,” Dean snarled, and you slapped him hard across the face. Tears burned in your eyes at his hurtful behavior not only tonight, but over the last two weeks .

“What’s your fucking problem Dean? What have I done to you that’s offended you so much? For weeks now you’ve been a douche to me, and I have no idea what I’ve done to you!” you yell at him, all thoughts of not waking up Sam gone right out of the window.

“What’s my fucking problem? Maybe it’s you. Spreading your legs for every Tom, Dick, and Harry that pays you a little attention,” Dean said, coming closer to you and shoving you backwards, his words getting louder and louder with each step he took.

Sam burst out of his bedroom door as soon as he heard the two of you, jumping in between you and Dean to stop his brother, who was so mad that he was honestly frightening.

“What the fuck is the problem!” Sam bellowed at the two of you.

“She’s the fucking problem,” Dean said, pointing an unsteady finger at you accusingly. “She thinks it’s okay to jump in bed with every fucking ass hole in Lebanon after every fucking hunt like she’s getting fucking paid for it!”

“Fuck you Winchester! You do the same fucking shit! You have no room to judge me for what I do with my free time because I sure as fuck haven’t judged you!” you scream at him, tears slipping down your face and a heaviness pooling deep in your chest.

“Excuse me? I’ve been with one woman in months compared to your six fucking men in a month!” Dean said, trying to sidestep his brother, but Sam’s long arms shot out and stopped him before he could move towards you. “Do you not care that one night one of these assholes can knock you up? Kill you, before you can get away from them? Hunting monsters, and fighting off perverts are two different fucking things Y/N!”

“Don’t act like you're all concerned about me Dean! Nice fucking double standards. You think because I’m a woman that I can’t handle myself, and that I’m a whore for doing the same exact shit you do!”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” he roared, making even Sam jump as he tried to hold his brother back. Dean’s face was red, his glossy eyes wide and dilated with anger. You had never seen Dean so angry, and you even took a hurried step back, stumbling into the library as Dean shoved Sam to the side and marched towards you. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE BUNKER! IF YOU CARE SO FUCKING LITTLE ABOUT YOURSELF, THEN YOU CAN GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, BECAUSE I CAN’T WATCH YOU FALL IN BED WITH ONE MORE ASS HOLE!!!”

“DEAN!” Sam yelled, crossing the floor and grabbing his arm as you sank into the chair behind you hiccuping a sob as Dean towered over you.

Sam reached out and grabbed Dean, throwing him against the wall with a hard shove. “Get your ass to your room, and sleep it off! Now! Y/N, you stay right the fuck there!” Sam said as he shoved the very livid eldest Winchester towards his room, making sure he was in there before coming back to find you still sitting in the same seat, to shocked and heartbroken to move.

You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself as if it could hold you together, when all you wanted to do was fall apart. You never thought Dean would talk to you that way. Sure, he’d been pushing you away and being an ass for the last couple of weeks, but you never dreamed that he hated you. You never knew that he thought you no better than a whore. Now you had lost the only home you’d ever known since your Uncle Bobby had passed away.

You were shaking slightly when Sam pulled up a chair across from you, and sat down with a flop.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, reaching out and placing a large hand over your knee. You flinch at the contact. Only God knows what the hell Dean would do if he came in here and saw that.

“Not really Sam, I’ll get my shit packed,” you said, attempting to stand up, but Sam's hand coming down heavy on your shoulder stopped you.

“No you're not. He’s just druck, and jealous, Y/N. When he sobers up in the morning he’s going to feel horrible about the way he treated you tonight…”

“How the fuck can you know that Sam, he seemed pretty sure. Hell, a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts right? He seemed pretty sure in his decision, and I doubt he will regret a word of it. Besides, that did not sound ‘jealous’ to me one bit. He sounded disgusted, and angry,” you cut in. stopping Sam from defending Dean again.

“Y/N, I know my brother better than he knows himself most of the time. He’s not angry. He’s hurting, and he’s jealous. He’s been crazy about you from the moment you moved in here, and you won't even give him the time of day.”

You scoffed at Sam, rolling your eyes as you wiped the tears from your face harshly. Your heart felt like it just wanted to stop beating, and you really didn’t feel like being led on by Sam, and given false hope that Dean had feelings for you at all that weren’t discussed just so you would stay.

“Sam, your brother does not like me. Period. How could he be jealous, or hurt, just because I do the same thing I’ve seen him do for years.”

Sam ran his hands through his hair and let out a long sigh.

“You really don’t see it do you? Think about it Y/N, other than that one blonde a week ago, when was the last time you saw him take a girl home? That was the first one since you moved in almost four months ago.”

You search your brain, trying to remember. You hadn’t been paying that much attention. You thought because of all he’d been through he was just going through a dry spell, and when you heard him and that girl, you assumed he was getting back to his usual self.

Sure, you hated to see Dean with other women, but you weren’t dumb enough to ever think that you would even be on his radar.

“The only reason he brought that girl back to the hotel was because he got upset when he saw you with that bouncer who was about 10 years younger than him. It hurt his ego. He’d been buying you drinks all night, he’d even paid for a separate hotel room separate because he thought, just maybe you’d see how much he was into you, and go home with him.”

You look at Sam, your head full of doubt. Dean’s words were still ringing loudly in your head, and you wanted nothing more than to get away from here so that you could cry it out.

“Just let him sober up. If things are still tense in the morning, then you can take off to Jody’s for a few days. I know she wouldn’t mind, but if you are gone when he sobers up, and remembers what the fuck he did to you it’s gonna crush him.”

You let out a deep breath as you looked around the still dark Bunker with a heavy feeling in your chest. Your body started to feel exhausted as the adrenaline from your fight with Dean started to wane. You knew it was late, and if you left right now you’d never even make it to a hotel room. You were just that tired. You weren’t in the right mindset to drive, so you nodded your head in agreement. Walking to your room with your feet dragging, you fell face down your bed, and let the tears flow freely as your heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Dean’s voice still louder than Sam’s in your head.

You had been in love with him since you were 16 years old.You even patterned your life after his. He was your hero. The man all girls dreamed about, and he hated you, and it was all your fault.

You were so upset that you didn’t hear Dean sobbing into his pillow in his room as you passed to head to yours, or see Sam go and sit outside of his brother’s door with his back to it, listening to his older brother, his rock, his best friend fall apart, all because he was too stubborn, and too hurt to tell the woman he was so deeply in love with just how he felt.

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Dean’s POV:

Dean rolled around in his bed with a groan, taking a deep breath through his nose in an effort to stave off the wave of nausea that seemed to hit him as soon as he woke up this morning. He could still taste the liquor, and the scent of it seemed to be seeping out of his every pore, making his weak stomach churn in protest.

He struggled to remember the last time he’d gotten that drunk, and honestly it was all a bit foggy. It made his head hurt, so he stopped thinking, and pulled himself sluggishly to his feet.stopping for only a moment to lean against his door.

Physically he felt like shit, but emotionally he was a wreck, worse than he’d been even with his mom had died, worse than he’d been when he lost John. His actions last night played over and over in front of his face like a broken record, and he didn’t want to face that fact that he’d run you out, and hurt you. The look on your face was stuck in his mind. Tears streaming down your face, complete with utter terror of what he might do to you.

He didn’t realize what he was doing until Sam locked him in his room. It was like he was acting on autopilot and he couldn’t stop. All the bottled up emotions came rolling to the surface, and he never thought he’d snap like that. He’d never forgive himself.

Stumbling to the small sink in his room, he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in days. His eyes were puffy and red with dark circles. His complexion was paler than he’d ever seen it, even when he had the mark. His cheeks even looked a little sunk in. Had he lost weight? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten . He’d been too busy drinking.

Dean splashed his face with water, rubbing harshly as if he could wipe away what he’d done, even though he knew he never could. When he could stand up without holding onto something, he made his way slowly towards the kitchen, hoping if he could eat something and keep it down then the sick feeling would go away and he could figure out what he needed to do to fix what he’d broken. If he couldn’t fix it, well then it was time to check out, because he couldn’t live knowing he’d hurt you.

He was thinking a big game there, cause he knew he’d never be able to leave Sammy behind, but the hurt was that deep, and he’d be lying if he said he knew how to deal with this in a healthy way, and there was always the possibility that he drank himself to death. He was pretty sure he was on his way to doing just that.

As soon as his feet hit the kitchen floor, and he looked up he saw you and Sam sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in your hands. For just a moment no one spoke, and no one moved. You wouldn’t even look him in the eye this morning, instead becoming very interested in your coffee cup.

Dean mumbled something that was meant to sound like ‘sorry’, but came out as just an incoherent noise as he turned on his heels to head back to his room, and give you space. The relief he felt that you were still here somehow diminished as soon as he saw the hurt look on your face.

“Dean, wait up a second,” Sam said, standing up from the table, and making his way towards Dean who even though he’d stopped in the hallway, he’d been unable to turn around and face you again.

“Come on Dean, we all need to have a talk about…”

“We don’t need to talk about shit Sam! I was a fucking asshole, and now Y/N can’t even look me in the eye! What is there left to talk about? This is my fucking fault!”

Sam had no argument there, and he knew it, so Dean shrugged away from his brother’s hand that was resting on his shoulder, and made his way to his room to start drinking again, because that’s all he seemed to be able to do right anymore.

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Your POV:

It was all you could do to stand rooted to the floor as you watched Dean stumble back down the hallway towards his room. You’d cried so much last night and this morning that you had nothing else left in you to cry. You didn’t think your heart could break more than it already was, but here you were, trying to catch your breath as Dean disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Sam turned to you, and let out a long sigh,shrugging and shaking his head before finally making eye contact with you.

“I can’t do this. The two of you are gonna have to work this out for yourselves. I know what he did last night was hurtful, and borderline abusive, but if you can’t see he’s hurting then you're blind. I can’t make you talk to him, but I can tell you that if you let this fester then it’s just gonna get worse and worse. Dean thrives on self loathing. You know it’s not just something he can forget. He’s gonna torture himself until there is nothing left.”

Sam brushed past you and into the kitchen without even giving you a chance to make your argument. Which at this point there was really no argument to make. You saw it yourself first hand just now. Dean looked terrible, and not just hung over. He’d cried so much that his eyes were almost swollen shut, and you had only seen Dean cry a handful of times.

You stood there for a long time staring in the direction of Dean's room before your feet finally started to move. With every step you took towards his door, your hands were starting to shake, and your stomach twisted nervously.

There were several ways this could go. He could either slam the door in your face, ask you to leave, ignore you, or attack you. After last night you weren’t so sure about the last one, but he was sober this time. Hopefully that was just a drunken mistake meant to scare you, and that's all.

When you reached his door, you took a shaky breath already regretting the decision to talk to Dean, and you hadn’t even knocked on the door yet.

You hadn’t realized how much you cared about Dean until what happened between you last night. It was always just something you shoved down, and refused to acknowledge. Now it was all you could see. You had been in love with him from the moment he’d popped out of the backseat of what at the time was John Winchester’s Impala when you 16 years old.

You reached up to knock on the door, but before your hand could even make contact with it you heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. Panic twisted in your gut, overriding the nerves, and you shoved the door open to Dean’s room, your hunter instincts screaming something was horribly wrong, and you had to get to Dean.

When you saw him he was standing at the sink, surrounded by glass, watching the blood drip from his still clenched fist. His jaw was set in a hard line, and his eyes were distant as if he didn’t even really feel it.

“Dean,” you breathed out, and he turned to you slowly, looking at you, then down at the mess on the floor as well as his hand.

“Y/N, I… I’m sorry. I…” Dean bent down in an attempt to pick up the shattered glass , but you made your way over to him and stopped him, gently grabbing his hand and looking at the heavily bleeding wound. He didn’t stop you, just stood there with his eyes searching your face.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll text Sam, and he can clean up the glass while I stitch up your hand and get this glass out of your knuckles.”

He didn’t fight you as you led him to the infirmary, and sat him down in one of the chairs. He never even flinched as you took tweezers to his knuckles to pull out the glass, or when you sterilized the wound before stitching up the large cut on the back of his hand. His eyes stayed on your face as you worked, and you could feel him watching you, but you had to concentrate on his hand in order to not hurt him further as you wrapped it carefully.

When you went to stand up to put away the medical supplies, Dean caught your hand with his good one, stopping you in your tracks as he stood to his feet in front of you.

His movements were slow. Like if he moved too fast he’d scare you. For some reason, even though a normal person would have been terrified after his behavior last night, you weren’t even remotely afraid of him.

You’d faced evil. You’d face monsters. He was none of that.

“Y/N, I know it probably doesn’t mean anything after the way I treated you last night, but I’m sorry. I let my emotions get in the way. I was drunk. I don’t know why I pushed you, but I should have never laid a hand on you. I just… It hurt so much knowing you were out with another guy like always, and that I would never be good enough for you, and… I’m sorry. I’ll mind my own business from now on.”

Dean turned to leave, but you grabbed his uninjured hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Dean, stop running from me. You don’t get to say something like that, and then walk away, and go hide, or drink yourself to death! Who the fuck said you weren’t good enough for me? Cause that’s bullshit! Dean, if any one of us isn’t good enough it’s me! You’re a fucking hero! I’m just another hunter riding off the Winchesters. I probably should have left a long time ago. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were even remotely interested in me. If I’d have known I would have never gone out with any of those other losers.”

Dean froze on the spot, his green eyes piercing your own like they could see into your soul. You knew Dean, you’d known Dean for years, and you knew if anyone was going to move first it had to be you. There was a time before he’d gone to Hell, become a fucking knight of hell, spent time in purgitory, and had person after person ripped away from him that he would have made the first move, but Dean was different. That cocky Winchester that strutted into Bobby’s house all those years ago for the first time, flirting with everyone that claimed to be a woman, died a long time ago, and you knew this was your only opportunity. If you fucked this up, there would be no other chance with him.

In a bold move that you were pretty sure if you had to do it twice you’d never have made it, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his as you stand on your tiptoes to reach him. At first he stood there in a state of shock. It didn’t take him long to slip his good arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and deepening the kiss.

When the two of you finally broke away, you grabbed Dean by the hand and led him to your room. You text Sam when you got there, and asked him if he could clean up the glass in Dean’s room, letting him know you have him taken care of before slipping you both inside, and locking the door.

Dean guided the two of you over to the bed, and you both moved under the covers in the dark room. The only light is the dim light that's shining on your bedside table from the old lamp.

Sliding closer to him, you let Dean slip his arms around you before his lips find yours again in a kiss that almost feels scared. You brush your hands through his tousled hair as you wait for him to relax.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Deans said, his eyes searching you for any hint of hesitation.

This was a line the two of you had never crossed, and uncharted territory in the line of work the two of you did was a scary thing when it comes to people you care about. So much could happen. There were so many liabilities, but you couldn’t live without him, and he obviously had gotten to the point where he couldn’t live without you. So here you were.

“I’m scared too Dean, but I’m willing to try,” you tell him, placing your hand on the side of his face, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as he gathers his emotions. Trying to make sense of it all.

No, you weren’t supposed to have this, no, you weren’t supposed to have a happily ever after. This life was a bitch, and you were both far from perfect. Some of the shit you’d seen had affected you greatly, more than you even wanted to admit to yourself. You couldn’t even imagine the scars that Dean carried that no one could see. He’d gone through, and lost so much more than you even know about. People tend to forget even the people that save the world hurt too.

The hurt you’d caused each other wouldn’t fade away overnight. It would take years of building trust again, and it would take time just being together, if you had that, you’d take whatever you had.In this life, tomorrow was definitely never promised.

Tonight though, a little bit of the loneliness disappeared as clothes started to hit the floor.As his mouth explored your own, before tentatively wondering it’s way over your body. As your hands explored his body, running over every visible mark on his skin, leaving little goose bumps in their wake. As he slid himself inside of you, two marred and twisted souls became one. . That piece of the puzzled you’d been missing all your life finally fitting together.

The moving, pressing, touching, the rise and fall as your bodies drove each other slowly towards what can only be described as pure ecstasy, something you’d ever experienced with anyone you’d ever been with, because there was love there, where before there was nothing but a void. Two scared and wounded hearts beat as one for the first time. It was going to be a slow, and careful thing. Fragile. As you fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, you were confident if you died right then in that moment, it was as close to heaven as you’d ever get. You’d get there together,however long you had, because now there was nothing left in the way. He was yours, and you were his, and that’s the way it was always going to be.

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Forever Tags: @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @rain-dance-goblin @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester one shot #dean x reader #dean x you #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn one shot #hurt!dean #jealous!dean #angry!dean #angst #jawritter #jensen ackles #x reader inserts

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rozengrotto · 3 years

Text

Vil + Idia: I'll Bring Out the Best In You

(a oneshot in which Vil decides to do Idia’s make-up for the entrance ceremony...and tries to teach him something about the beauty inside him)

“Ah, Roi du Poison! Immaculate! Simply immaculate! The way he leads the brush, like an artist painting the piece of his life time. I'm speechless by his grace, his elegance. Beauté! 100 points!”

“Rook, you sure like to run your mouth.”, Vil muttered under his breath. The Pomefiore student was in the midst of tracing around Idia's eye with a jetblack liner. Once he was satisfied with the result, he moved on to the other eye, repeating the same practiced motions.

Ignihyde's dormhead looked anything but happy in his current position. All the fussing around, the stench of flowery perfume and being handled around like a make-up doll was like a nightmare come true for a tranquility-loving hikkikomori such as him.

“C-can I go now?”

“No. I'm not finished with you yet.”

Manicured nails dug into ghostly pale skin as Vil gripped Idia's chin and directed it to face the other way.

“You are a dormhead now, a figure of respect, and as such you need to take proper care of your appearance. All those students in the dormitory you lead look up to you and expect nothing but perfection.”

Idia swallowed hard, sinking a little more into his seat.

“G-great. Now I'm even more on edge.”, he mumbled grimly.

A smirk stretched onto Vil's lips as he started to apply some concealer for the shadows under Idia's eyes. Gods, this boy needed more sleep.

Vil would have to set him some clear boundaries such as no playing video games in the dead of the night and also no binge-watching whatever cutesy anime show he was into this time.

Also he mentally noted to let Idia see the sun some more, because – goodness gracious, people could get blinded by that toothpastey white skin and unhealthy complexion of Ignihyde's leader. A life spent inside all day in his dark room wasn't doing his body any favors.

“E-everyone's expectations are too high. 0% of reaching the goal at this point. I'd initiate a retreat and abort the mission until my l-level's a bit higher – ah!”

Vil had yanked a flaming strand a bit too harshly.

“So you want to give up? Go back to your room and stick your head into the sand like a coward potato?”

“Uhm...yeah, kinda?”

Pomefiore's dorm leader huffed. “Unbelievable. However, it's a pity you think so, because I surely won't let you shirk your duties.”

Having said that, Vil let the fireproof hairbrush run through locks of blue fire in an attempt to tame some of the especially stubborn blazing curls of the fellow third year student.

“Roi de ta Chambre, please do tell, what sort of lipstick do you use? That hue of deep blue is quite wonderful, I think it would fit Vil's beauty as well.”, Rook asked with his usual grandeur as he assisted Vil by handing him the tools he needed to work on Idia's appearance.

“I d-don't use lipstick...my lips are naturally colored like that.”

The hunter's eyes widened and his hands shot up in front of his chest.

“Sacre bleu! How magnificent! I've never heard of such a thing!“

In contrast to Rook's marvel, Vil seemed unfazed and instead ordered: “Now, would you please look into the mirror?”

“D-do I have to? Really?”

Vil arched a blond eyebrow.

“What? Are you afraid of turning into stone from seeing your own face?”

Idia flinched a little, his shoulders drawing up to make himself small.

“Uh, I...I am not...really a fan of...l-looking at myself. My hair's awful and I'm...not really handsome overall, so...I don't need to be reminded of that e-every time.”

Pomefiore's leader suddenly stopped with his ministration of Idia's hair and bent down to look into the other's eyes. Idia's first instinct was too quickly avert his gaze with a squeak, but Vil wouldn't let that happen as he firmly captured Idia's bony face with both of his hands.

“Idia. Look at me.”

Ignihyde's dormhead shifted uncomfortably around, amber eyes shyly flickering towards Vil and then quickly back again.

“Never put yourself down like this. I don't want to ever hear such things from your mouth again.”

Some of the strictness left the blond's features again and his violet gaze softened a little.

“Listen. There's beauty in everyone of us. Some of it more hidden, some of it more blatant. As a sworn ambassador of grace and elegance, it's my job to polish that beauty of yours and make everyone else witness how you truly shine inside. You see? Would the famous Vil Schönheit really spend his valuable time working on a lump of coal if he didn't know that you were secretly a diamond in the rough?”

Rendered speechless by Vil's encouraging words, Idia could only stare as a soft hand moved his flaming bangs to the side, revealing his pale forehead.

“Almost like a different person, don't you think so? Beauty requires a lot of hard work and dedication. However, you can do anything you set your mind to if you really want. Even you.” Pomefiore's dormhead smiled as he watched the other student gape at his reflection in the mirror.

Their moment of wonder was interrupted when Rook clasped his hands together and cooed: “Magnifique! Vil, your words are a poem that would even let the Greek masters go green with envy! My heart has swollen numerous times with pride. Such beauty. Such poise. Ah, I feel like fainting.”

“I was merely speaking the truth.”, Vil stated courtly, picking up the brush again to continue his work.

“Uhm, th-thank you. I...I appreciate what you're doing, Vil-shi, really, b-but...we're not done yet?”

Idia fumbled with his hands.

“I...uh, there's a pick-up event in a game I like and it's running out in a few hours, so maybe we could postpone-”

Vil's face hardened.

“No. What is more important in this world, Idia Shroud? Beauty or a video game?”

“I...don't think my answer will satisfy you.”

“Good. Then keep that mouth of yours shut and let me turn you into a diamond.”

#idia shroud #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland #twst #pomefiore #ignihyde #rook hunt #twisted wonderland fanfiction #my writing

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hopeshoodie · 3 years

Text

Ok so I finally got caught up on CMM (anon, I have a lot going on right now, maybe don’t send me over ten asks with spoilers in them… I pinkie promise I’ll post once I read it) and thoughts-

Obviously the big one is Shannon and Hope. I would’ve paid all my gems to talk to either one of them, but I’m still a little salty that we did have to pay. For such a short scene, they recycled 30% of the dialogue towards the beginning and that was annoying. It would’ve been so easy to make them unique. Hope absolutely would have been insecure and said ‘did anyone ask about me’, but Shannon wouldn’t. Shannon doesn’t care, she could’ve said something like “lol does anyone even remember me?” or “it’s totally fine, sounds like it was an original islanders only party”. The reasons they gave for not being there were pretty good, and it makes me feel better than in-canon they weren’t un-invited. Hope’s part was much longer than Shannon’s but I liked Shannon’s more.

My big issue with the phone calls was that Hope’s call was just… flat. In the villa, Hope was smiling all the time, super expressive and warm, and her call just seemed really… flat. It lacked a warmth that being BFFs with her merits. And the conceit, that she’s at a stuffy wellness retreat trying to schmooze a client with her boss, would’ve been really ripe for her being expressive. Like “omg thank god a normal person, I’ve been doing nothing but smiling and agreeing all weekend”. I did like how she expressed insecurity and then corrected herself, it showed a lot of growth. I just wish there would’ve been more sincerity and personality.

I’m not mad about Chelsea and Rocco. I kinda don’t think they’ll last, because Rocco will eventually move on and Chelsea is desperately trying to cling to the experience of the villa through him. But I feel like it was effectively foreshadowed, and seems pretty in character for the both of them. It’s not the redemption arc I was hoping for Rocco though, I still hope Rocco sits down with Lottie or Priya and properly apologizes.

Chelsea’s password being BRA? Jesus christ, give it a rest, FB. She has more than one personality trait. The CMM writers really just latched onto 1-2 cute moments with each character in the main season and decided “this is all they think and talk about”. Same with Hope saying pacifically again and Priya’s gauche sunflower print.

The escape room bit was fun, but I wish the riddles hadn’t been multiple choice (instead the typing in thing and if you get it right Chelsea’s excited but otherwise has stock lines like ‘not quite… it’s a mirror!’). Also it would’ve been more fun if another character was trapped with MC, just to see them try to solve it. The humor in that section was good though, I especially liked the reaction to throwing the box at the wall.

LOVED the new outfits, they’re all super cute but like… Why did I spent 10 gems when literally no one’s going to acknowledge the costume change?? Like surely someone would be like “what… happened? Why did you change?” or even “you changed because you’re the murderer and were getting blood off your clothes!”. But nothing.

I’m not super invested in the mystery, and I don’t really mind that. The characters and their reminiscing is more important. But like… I don’t think the clues were handled very compellingly. The clues aren’t really tied to any one specific person, and they’re not insight into how the murders took place or what enabled the person to get away. It’s just… Here’s a note Chelsea gave you, here’s a thing that was at the scene. I’d like it more if it was things like ‘a bare footprint, a half drank wine glass, a cypher with a puzzle attached’. Something that you could be like ‘x character wouldn’t know how to do that, x character likes wine’ etc.

Also I don’t love how it seems like the murderer changes based on your choices? Like if they’ve coded it so that everyone’s possibly the murderer and it’s just revealed based on player choice who it is that’s not… A mystery… Like I’d much prefer if only 1 person was the murderer, or there was a pre-set killer for each victim.

Lucas died in my game (I’m romancing Priya), and there was a chance to flirt with him before he died. I know other people had Lottie die if Gary was the LI, so who dies if Bobby is your LI? Can you romance Lottie and the other person?

My eggs are still all in the ‘Noah’s the murderer’ basket.

I really hate how explicit the switch between the mystery and socializing has been. Obviously that’s a facet of everyone playing characters, but like three times now there’s been “let’s get back to the mystery!” or “let’s stop the mystery to socialize” and it just feels clunky and breaks up the story. I’d prefer if all of the characters collectively disregarded the characters they’re playing, except when clearly delivering dialogue in reaction to things, so that there’s less “are you in character right now or are you you?”. I’d also change it so that everyone really casually talks about their theories and the mystery but for the most part isn’t super invested in it. That way the player can choose to be the only one who cares about the mystery and solving it, or we can do away with the back and forth about it. I don’t know, I’m just not a fan of how we keep interrupting GOOD scenes like MC/her LI bonding, reminiscing with people, or Chelsea announcing her relationship to be like ‘lol let’s talk about a mystery’.

I’m shipping Lucas and Priya more than MC and Priya because when romancing her, Priya really doesn’t have any personality outside of ‘interested in MC’, versus when she’s roleplaying with Lucas or around everyone else she’s back to being herself. It’s creating this weird dynamic where the writing makes it seem like Priya is /uncomfortable/ or not herself when romancing MC, to the point where I feel guilty?? Like she seemed more in-character and excited when talking about a guy who dumped her than she has been when kissing and doing the nasty with MC all night. Like honestly you could replace her with Rahim in all her romance scenes and it would be more in-character for Rahim.

Overall I’m... Enjoying it. Like I’m not stopping mid-episode to do something else like I was with S3. But tbh I think I enjoyed Boat Party more, and I’m really only thinking about specific scenes and headcanons after putting my phone down (as opposed to S2 and S1 which lived in my head rent free after playing an episode)

Maybe part of that is I have a really poor working memory and prefer to binge consume media instead of playing it week by week, so I lose interest each week. Once it’s fully released I’ll have to play it in one go and let yall know if it’s actually bad or I’m just bad.

#litg #cmm spoilers

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