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mochatsin · 9 months ago

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When MC is a Writer

You’ve written several books back in the human realm, some posted online while others were published. You have some works unfinished but since you were taken to Devildom, you had to put them on hold. Eventually the brothers find out about your hobby.

Hi I had this idea while I was reading light novels. Certain brothers would have certain themes in whatever is being written to fit them, but feel free to imagine what kind of story your MC would write. Thanks for reading!

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Lucifer

Lucifer was out on a stroll on RAD when he spotted you with Simeon having lunch together, looking deep in discussion. He does notice that you both have been spending a lot of time together and a part of him is curious as to why that is. You’re either talking with Simeon during lunch breaks or meeting up with him after school. He’s not jealous, Lucifer is more intrigued as to what must be so important that you come home late after your visits with the angel.

You were both in his study when he finally asked you about it. You were late for dinner yesterday after coming home late from purgatory hall, Lucifer wouldn’t want you to start ditching your duties if it’s your turn to make dinner for the week. You explain to him that you’re not trying to avoid your chores at all, there’s just something that you needed Simeon’s help with. Now what could possibly Simeon do that Lucifer couldn’t? He probes a bit more until you spill the truth.

You tell Lucifer that you and Simeon are meeting up together because you’re trying to tie the loopholes in this story that you were writing, and Simeon has given you great advice as a fellow writer. Now Lucifer is intrigued, enough to the point he put down his fountain pen and paused in his work. That can wait until tomorrow, he wants to hear all about your writing. He won’t pressure you into talking if you don’t want to tell him yet, but he promises not to make fun of whatever you make.

You both enjoy a glass of demonus while you tell Lucifer the premise of your story, giving him enough background and detail for him to understand the part that you’re having trouble writing. Surprisingly, Lucifer is also quite a big help as he asks you thought provoking questions and offers suggestions that you can try to implement into your works. Given that he’s read several pieces of literature for the years he’s been alive, he has a lot of insight on what you can do to pace your story better.

There’s a small smile on his face as he notices how your eyes shine every time you figure out a way for you to write the next parts, and he sits there in his spot sipping on his drink while you talk about what you can do for future updates. It’s impressive just listening to you untangle such an intricate story as if you’re just placing pieces of a puzzle together. To him, your mind is beautiful.

Some time later, you found Lucifer by the living room with your book in his hand. He said that even though you explained the story, he still wanted to see how it really goes and appreciate your work. You asked if there’s anything you can do to thank him the other day for helping you, and all Lucifer asked is that he’s the first to know once you update.

Mammon

Mammon is lounging in your room while he’s checking his stocks and latest lottery results (he lost) when you start asking him questions about gambling. He interpreted this as you finally having an interest in his gambling habits so he began talking about the mechanics. Roulette tables, machines, you name it and he’ll explain it with great detail. It would make the brothers wonder why Mammon can’t even remember to do all his chores when he can recall all of these with ease.

You also ask about how people normally scheme and cheat in casinos. At first he thought you were accusing him even though he often does that in game nights at the House of Lamentation (Levi caught him), but then he realizes it’s just pure curiosity so he explains how he’s heard some people pull it off. It’s a high risk kind of stunt and since he doesn’t want to be banned from the casino then he doesn’t resort to those methods.

Mammon then starts questioning why you’re asking these. It’s not like you were going to gamble right? He silently hoped you weren’t in debt to the point you’re resorting to gambling but no that’s not the case. You tell him that you’re trying to write a scene and it takes place in a casino, and since Mammon spends a lot of his time in those places then his experience makes him the best person to ask. He was definitely turning red at that last part.

Mammon goes back to his room and since you talked about your writing, he searches for it online to check out your works. He didn’t know you were such a big shot in the reading community so he wants to see what your stuff was about. It started as reading the summary, to reading the introduction, and now he’s updated. They were all right, you’re good.

Mammon starts reading more often, though it’s mostly limited to the things you’ve written before. Satan has been trying to get him to read his personal recommendations but if it’s something written by you then he’s not hesitating to pick it up. Lucifer is personally thanking you for giving Mammon something that helped temporarily forget his gambling habits and dumb schemes.

If you have any more questions about gambling or anything, Mammon is always happy to tell you everything he knows. Heck, he even offered to bring you over to the casino to let you have some personal experience of whatever that is you’re writing but the brothers warned you against that idea if you want to come back home with Grimm still in your pockets.

Levi

Lately Levi has been reading a lot of Light Novels. Usually he’d be updating himself with manga he’s read to check for any new updates but he decided to pick on light novels that one of his favorite manga’s are based on. He claims that despite the manga and anime adaptations, there’s still a whole world of lore that there’s yet to discover so he wants to pick up on those, and he eventually came to appreciate these sorts of books.

He was going through some recommendations and read through some of them, but one series definitely caught his attention and he spent an entire night trying to catch up to the latest update. He went to the breakfast table with heavy bags in his eyes and a big pout on his face so you ask him what’s wrong.

He tells you that he found an interesting book series that has all his favorite tropes, but the author went on a sudden hiatus so there weren't any new updates as of recently. Biggest problem is that the chapter was left on a cliffhanger. You let him ramble on with the story until you realized that was one of your works. You were debating if you should admit it or not but maybe it’s best you do.

You explained that you were actually the author and the work was on pause because of the exchange program. You wrote it in the human realm but because you were taken to Devildom, you couldn’t find the time to continue writing. Levi wasn’t sure if he should believe you were actually the author because no way can this happen to him twice, first it was TSL now it’s this one.

He asked you several questions about the series like another TSL trivia quiz. His question went from easy basic knowledge to something oddly specific, but since you wrote it then you answered everything perfectly. Levi has that sparkle in his eyes that he usually has when he looks at his idols, except this time it’s with you.

Levi refuses to hear any major spoiler from you so that his reactions are genuine by the time you update. You’re instantly one of his favorite writers and he won't hesitate to hype up your work on any forum platform. He can talk about how much he loves your writing to the point that you’re motivated to go back to finishing the next chapters. Maybe you could let Levi take a peek to be the first person to read once you’re done.

Satan

It’s always a nice leisure time to just sit in a room with Satan, both of you doing your own thing while discussing books you’ve both read recently. Often though you both do that in his room but since his recent rampage left everything a bigger mess than it already was to begin with, your book discussions were held in your room for the time being until his place gets cleaned up. Barbatos is not going to be happy about it.

You can see how he’s dying to discuss the latest book he’s read so the moment you say he can go first, he’s talking almost to a Levi level kind of excitement. Satan tells you how he recently found a series he’s invested in. The story and pacing are so good that he was hooked on it immediately, recalling all his favorite lines and scenes from it. He talks about the work in high regards and how he hopes the author comes back soon with some updates.

You don’t know if you should be surprised that Satan has already come across your works considering that most of his days are dedicated to reading. You haven’t told him about this part of your life since he’s read so many good books, you fear it may not be up to match with other great writers so you kept it a secret from him. It's nice to see that Satan is praising your works, unaware that you were the author.

You left your laptop on one day and Satan didn’t intend to look but accidentally did. He thought it was a homework essay for one of your classes, but he was surprised to see your drafts of the next chapters. Satan wanted to assume you were those fanfic writers that Levi has been talking about, but he does see that it was all aligned to the latest update. Realizing how much he just talked about your work in front of you made him red from embarrassment, but he’s proud more than anything else.

He comes clean that he knows your secret while apologizing for taking a peek, but he’s quite ecstatic to be associated with someone as talented as you are. It’s one thing to be a fan of books, it’s another to be writing a good one. If you need a beta reader, he’s always ready to lend his services. He’s a quick reader and he can lend useful advice or proper criticisms. At least he can be useful to you and it’s a bonus to be the first out of everyone to read about it.

Other than being a huge bookworm, Satan is the most knowledgeable among the brothers so if you’re struggling with writing something you don’t know too much about then he’ll help fill in the gaps of your knowledge. If it’s something he’s not familiar with then expect to wake up the next day finding out that Satan spent the night researching it for you so he could answer any question you have. He’d love to help you out in whatever way he can.

Asmo

Asmo has been whining to the house of purgatory for any ideas because he needs to make some new content for his account because he wants to keep his followers entertained. He’s always doing makeup and skin care reviews because it’s what he does best (and also because he’s sponsored to do so), so Asmo is thinking of what’s something new he can do this time. It’s good to do something new from time to time to shock his fanbase.

Simeon suggests that Asmo should go read a book. At first the demon thought he was being condescending, but given that it’s a suggestion from Simeon then it’s definitely a genuine one. Asmo wanted to turn down the idea, though Simeon adds that he should read books up his alley. Perhaps a romance book should suit his tastes? They’re not too complicated to read and can be entertaining if written well. Being an Avatar of Lust, romance does sound intriguing and Simeon has the perfect book to recommend.

Asmo shocks everyone at the House of Lamentation when he comes home reading a book. It has a pretty cover and talks a tale of lovers, plus it was easy for him to digest since the book isn’t as thick and heavy like the ones that Satan normally likes to read. He seems overjoyed by the book that Simeon suggested to him and it must take a lot for a story to captivate Asmo that he almost forgets his nightly skin care routine.

He’s laying on your lap, swinging his feet with glee as he talks to you about this book he’s been fussing over. The story progressed so nicely between the two lovebirds, and each obstacle is so entertaining that Asmo can’t help but go through the next pages to see what happened. Does it strain the relationship? Do they break up? How will it go from here on then? It’s all too good! One of the best romance books he’s read so far.

The more he talked about the twists and the plot, the more you realized that he was talking about your book that you published before you even got to Devildom. You ask Asmo how he got his hands on that book since it’s from the human realm, and he tells you that Simeon suggested it. You sighed, of course it was Simeon. He was the only one who knew you wrote books because you told him, though you didn’t expect that he’d suggest it to Asmo of all people.

Eventually you come clean to Asmo that you were the author, and it took a bit of explaining until he would believe you. You showed him your old drafts of when you worked, maybe some pictures of that time when you were storyboarding the book so you could convince him. He’s shocked to see this precious human has quite the talent of writing romance novels, he almost believed that your works were written by cupid himself! His new promotional video is him raving about your books, talking about how his heart skipped a beat and whatnot. The sales spiked that day.

Beel

Beel came home from practice one afternoon and due to the intensive workout, he’s definitely starving for something. He bought some Black Puddle Jelly from Madam Scream’s before he went home because he thought about sharing them with you. Food always tastes better when it’s with you. He would’ve brought Belphie with him, though his twin is still in detention for pulling a prank on Lucifer during class earlier.

He looks for you but before he goes to your room, he spots you by the kitchen instead trying to cook up something. As far as Beel knows, it’s Levi who would be on dinner duties for tonight so he’s wondering what you’re doing in there. The aroma of what you were making is what drew Beel to you, and he asks what you were up to when you spot him behind you, mouth already watering.

You tell Beel that you’re trying to cook some recipe you found online while making use of the ingredients here in Devildom. It’s the first time you went out to buy every ingredient on your own to experiment, and Beel immediately points out to you which ones would probably be safe to eat and what would be dangerous to add in the dish because some ingredients won’t react well with each other. Even though Beel can most likely eat anything, he wouldn’t want you to accidentally poison yourself.

Beel watches you type down some notes on your phone and asks if that was for the recipe, though you tell him that you’re writing details. You’re attempting to cook with foreign ingredients because you’re trying to immerse yourself with a character you’re writing in your story. A character that’s trying to discover some new recipes with things they’ve never seen before.

You’re thankful for Beel’s advice about the ingredients earlier, it helped you gain some more insight and inspiration on what to do for the next chapters. You’re already imagining the culinary endeavors your character will go through while you’re chopping the mandrakes you got. The demon is happy to help and all Beel asks is that you feed him whatever you’re making when you’re done, since he likes your cooking after all. He sits by the island counter, chewing on the Black Puddle Pudding while he listens to you discuss your book with him.

Beel eventually walks up to you one day and admits that he tried to read your works. Your culinary adventure storyline is fantastic, but when it starts to describe all the delicious food that the character makes, Beel’s hunger starts to spike that he almost ate the page. There’s just something about the way you discuss the food that makes it sound so appetizing to him, he almost wants to recreate it with you. When you offer to read it with him while he eats some snacks, he has this happy smile on his face as he nods.

Belphie

Belphie just got back from RAD, stretching his limbs a bit and yawning as he opens the door. He just came back from detention for pulling pranks, and all he wants to do is to just fall asleep right now. He wanted to invite Beel for a nap but his twin is still in practice so he’s not available. You were the next person he had in mind, so he went out searching for you around the house.

He finds you by the planetarium, and he was ready to invite you to sleep but he sees that your focus has been going back and forth between your notes and the stars in the sky. Since Devildom always has an endless night time, you’re able to study the constellations as freely as you want. There’s no need for you to wait for the sun to set like you had to back in the human realm. There are books about Devildom stars scattered around you, ones you’ve borrowed from the library or from Satan’s collection so you can study them better.

He sits down next to you, resting his head over your shoulder and asking if you’re trying to memorize the constellations. You explain that you’re trying to get inspiration and notes for something you’re writing, a short fairy tale that’s dedicated to the stars this time. You’ve written fairy tales before you got here, and you want to make something inspired from Devildom stars. The constellations they have here are way different from what you normally see in the human realm, so you’re sure that the stories behind them are different as well.

A fairy tale about stars? Written by one of the people he cares about the most? Belphie is definitely interested in hearing more about it. He doesn’t try to tease you or anything about the fact you’re writing stories, he’s even willing to offer to help you by telling you everything he knows about the stars and the stories behind each constellation that he can remember at the top of his head in hopes that may spark more inspirations. Satan may know a lot of things, but Belphie is passionate about stars and you can feel it from the way he talks.

Belphie is incredibly drowsy the next day since he spent the night talking about your writing and helping you with it. He can’t help it when it’s about stars, and Belphie loves the way your eyes light up whenever you get an idea that you can put in. To him, it almost shines like the stars you’re writing about. He may have a vague idea of your story based on yesterday’s conversation, but he’s excited to read the final outcome. He’s seen glimpses of your works when you showed him your notes, it would definitely be worth the wait.

You invited him back to the planetarium because you want to show him your draft underneath all the stars. Even when he’s tired, he shows up and lays next to you to rest with all these pillows. The only favor he asked was that you read the fairytale for him while he rests, he promises he’ll try not to fall asleep. You read the story to him, occasionally checking if he’s still awake or not. Whenever you stopped, he would squeeze your hand and despite having his eyes closed, he would tell you to continue with such a groggy voice. He manages to at least hear the rest of it before falling asleep with a smile on his face.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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vhstown · 1 year ago

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ain't no love; pt. 2

"ain't no love in the heart of town"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 →

chapter summary: [MILES POV] Miles thinks there's something sinister going on at Visions. But first, he has to ask you out — to a job fair.

content/warnings: mentions of food/hunger, implied kidnapping, use of drugs (not by miles or reader) and there are some word meanings at the end!

word count: 4.7k

a/n: never thought id make it this far. 2/4 yo! thank you @qiupachups for proofreading 🙏 my g fr

“Take your headphones out.”

“~Ain’t no love… in the hear–”

Miles slipped his earbud out before putting his hand into his pocket again; it’d go back in once he left the counsellor’s office anyhow. First, he had to deal with the woman in front of him — Ms. Weber, the woman he’d been avoiding all week.

“Why didn’t you come to see me yesterday?” The woman peered at him through her red-framed glasses. Her disapproving gaze was one Miles was yet to get used to.

“Had to uh, see a teacher.” Her gaze became more disbelieving than disapproving. It was true, though, his calc teacher wasn’t the only faculty member he seemed to be annoying today.

“Right, and they didn’t tell you to take out your headphones?” The woman leaned over on her desk much like Mr. Wellston had, except it actually had the intended effect, like he was talking to his mother; Miles fumbled a bit with the earbud in his pocket. “We need to discuss your extracurriculars.”

“Do I need extracurriculars? I mean, I kinda already got some.”

“Such as?”

“An extra calc class. And Spanish catch-up. And English—”

“Something that isn’t to do with your academics, Miles — hence extra-curricular. College applications are right around the corner.”

“I’m doin’ fine right now,” he shrugged. Weber didn’t look very impressed.

“If you wanna go out of state, "fine" isn’t enough. You’re not the only kid applying.”

“Not like I said that.” He leaned back, making his chair creak loudly.

Talking to Ms. Weber felt like a chore. Sure, she had his best interest at heart, but she’d never know the half of it. His cooperativeness was running thin as the ache in his muscles worsened — if only Aaron didn’t make him get so serious all of a sudden. Miles couldn't listen to everyone, he guessed.

The woman leaned forward, tilting her head, maybe for emphasis. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Miles.”

Leaning back wasn’t helping with the soreness, or Ms. Weber. “Not if there was no cake to begin with.”

She let out a breath, a more civil version of the loud sigh building up in Miles’ lungs. “How about this? You try your hand at some volunteering.”

“Volunteering?” He was already sure that he wouldn’t bother. He did plenty volunteering already — if illegal vigilantism counted.

“There’s a careers fair for freshmen soon. It’d look good on your application if you helped to organise.”

“Aren’t teachers supposed to do that?”

“I’m right in front of you.” Her tone was drier than his.

“You’re just a counsellor though—” Miles’ lips pressed together, Ms. Weber’s eyes narrowing at him. He didn’t want the same fate that guy had calling his mom “just a nurse”, but it came out before he could stop himself.

“The week after winter break,” she continued. Being a counsellor was less stressful than a nurse, it seemed.

Winter break was after this week — that was when he’d finally stop training for a little while. The week after was the job fair, and…

“So it’s just me that’s doin’ it?”

The counsellor contemplated for a moment, her own lips pursing. “You could ask someone to do it with you. One of your friends, maybe.”

Like he had one of those.

“Huh? What’d you say? Someone’s waiting? You got friends?”

“Miles, c’mon.”

Maybe he did.

“Yeah, fine — I’ll do it,” he muttered. Weber’s expression relaxed, as much as it could with that gruff air still about her.

“Okay, good. Just bring your friend here after school.” Miles simply nodded — now with another thing to think about. “You can go back to lunch.”

He got out of the chair, his hand already on the door handle before Weber spoke again.

“Well done on coming in, by the way.” Miles turned back for a moment, mumbling something like a thanks. He tried not to feel weird about the odd sincerity of her words as he walked through the hallways.

“~Ain’t no love, and in the heart of the city…”

Miles had a lot to think about in general, but only about 20 minutes to think about what he was going to say to you. He also thought about what he was going to eat later — maybe his mom made something. He hoped his uncle didn’t finish the stew. At least his stomach didn’t grumble… Miles tried not to smile, even if nobody was watching.

Though he wanted to talk to you outside of class, he never really had any excuse. The only reason he’d talked to you at all was because that Rafa asshole decided bothering Mrs. Hernandéz wasn’t enough. Miles wasn’t stupid, but Rafael had drawn a massive red target on his own back. It was a miracle that you decided to say something, for Miles and Rafael.

A little height difference wouldn’t make his ankles any harder to break. He half-shook away the thought. No need to get expelled when he had to be here for long enough to confirm his suspicions.

“He went missing, and now he’s teaching calculus at Visions?”

“Yup.”

“That’s my high school.”

“…Jeff did us a service with these files, huh man?”

And so Miles had gone to Mr. Wellston’s classroom with you. It only left him with more questions.

Wellston almost seemed askance when you two walked in together — he didn’t even mention Miles’ earbud. The man was reluctant to let Miles take the extra class with you, for some reason, but Miles could play dumb when he needed to. Something about the whole arrangement was off to him — like it had set off a sixth sense Miles didn’t have.

Really and truly, you were just some kid from his class that happened to be caught up in all of this. If he had a reason, he’d tell you to not go to that stupid class in the first place. He was probably a better tutor anyway — Wellston didn’t seem like the teacher type anyway.

But he was just some kid from your class too — Miles Morales. Gonzalo Morales, though he doubted you knew, or cared. Probably the only person who knew his middle name was his mom; she was always talking about it, his name — to be proud. He had his mother’s last name for a reason, one he never knew about until Aaron told him: keeping him away from crime — his dad’s side. If only she knew what he was up to now.

If only his dad knew what he was up to now.

Miles Gonzalo Morales — whoever that was, was sweating a little at the moment. That was walking quickly, not because he had to figure out what to say in the next 10 seconds. Talking to you? No big deal. He’d done it before… once.

Miles had talked to you once. This past week, all he’d learnt about you was your first name and the fact that you sucked at using your calculator.

Hunched over a textbook with a crumpled up juice box in your hand, Miles spotted you sitting by yourself in the corner of the cafeteria. It’d be an easy conversation: he could bring up the textbook and talk to you alone. The pang of embarrassment that shot through him said otherwise. You looked like you did in Spanish, quiet, focused, a little stressed — like the sketch of you that was crumpled up in his blazer pocket. In the sketch, you were facing away. Right now, your eyes were on him. Mier— (Shi—)

“Can you move?” Miles hastily stepped away, realising he was blocking the line. He tried not to catch the girl’s annoyed stare, and the many others, holding back his grimace and heading for your table.

He sat opposite you; the seat was cold, and he wished he’d brought his jacket. What if it looked like he was shaking, or something? This was stupid. It wasn’t that cold. Just ask, dumbass.

“Hey uh, pana.” Your eyes were on his again, and he tried to smile. “You studyin’?”.

“Trying to.” Gaze trailing back to the textbook, you closed it with a sigh he could only imagine with his music playing in-between the cafeteria noise.

The cover read “AP CALCULUS BC: 1st Edition” — he knew there were at least ten revisions. Maybe you liked collecting old textbooks like he did old comics — that’d be stupid.

“Still don’t know how you got six.” He took out his earphone, before realising what you meant.

“Litres per hour,” he corrected, immediately feeling like punching himself for it. “Could explain it… if you want.” The cold plastic cafeteria bench dug into his palm as his grip on it tightened. Miles Morales — Brooklyn’s only vigilante, and now an AP Calc tutor

“Uh, sure.” You took out a pencil, which clattered far too loudly on the table. He watched you grit your teeth at the sound before giving him an expectant, somewhat unsure look. Miles took the pencil in his hand and started scribbling in the back page of the textbook, with you watching intently.

It was slightly warm, and wrote nicely — would probably draw nicely too. Not important. Just solve the damn thing.

“Why does this equal to the derivative, though?” you interrupted, pointing at the garble of letters and numbers. He had to hold back a sigh, like he wasn’t the one to offer you help. If there’s one thing he didn’t get from his mom, that was his patience — no wonder she was a nurse and he wasn’t a tutor.

“Cause if you take g of x as like, let’s say v or sumn’…” he murmured, brows knitting together as he scribbled out a couple more lines on the side. Rewriting the equation, he glanced at you occasionally, hoping you were getting it.

“Wait, wait, so…”

A flash of realisation came over your face before you abruptly took the pencil from his hand, making his jaw clench as your hand brushed his. You continued the line of working, explaining it to yourself while Miles gave quiet “yeah”s and nods.

“Then all of that should equal six.” The pencil dropped with a quiet thud, rolling onto the inside of the textbook. “Litres per hour,” you added quickly, giving him a meek smile.

“…Yeah. You got it.” Miles could only hold your gaze for a moment, until the eagerness in your eyes had dissipated, and the two of you were left staring at each other. The bend of his knees practically hooked around the seat as he reeled back, realising he’d been leaning over a little too close.

Miles cleared his throat, pushing the textbook back towards you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up; maybe you were a little proud of yourself. All you needed was a little guidance — and he was able to make you understand. He smiled — mentally, of course. Miles Morales — best AP Calc tutor in Brookly—

“Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah actually, uh…”

Uhhhhhh…

“Uh…?” you repeated.

Miles held his breath; maybe some survival instinct would force him to spit it out. How was he supposed to say this?

“You free? In a couple weeks?”

“…Huh?” Your eyes widened. The cafeteria seemed to go silent.

Definitely not like that.

“Uh, like, for a… volunteer thing,” he corrected, hastily. The way he grit his teeth made his voice sound funny. Nice going, Morales. “I’m doing it. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh, um…” Your eyes narrowed in thought, as Miles recovered from un-asking you out. “Maybe? What’s it for?”

“Some job fair — for freshmen.” Your expression turned uncertain. Miles bit the inside of his lip so hard he thought he might split it

“Um…” The way your eyes narrowed was making doubt pool in his stomach. “You know what? Yeah, sure.”

“Really?” Yes, you idiot. “I mean, uh cool.”

“Cool…”

The cleaners were starting to wipe away at the tables. No wonder it seemed so silent — most people had left. “So what do I have to do?” you

“You gotta go to the counsellor’s office after school. We’re gonna uh, help organise and stuff.” He swallowed dry. As much as he didn’t want to be the kid that was always in the counsellor’s office, it wasn’t like he could avoid it. You didn’t ever mention it, but it’s not like anyone did outright.

“Okay,” you nodded simply, letting out a sigh and throwing the ancient textbook into your bag. Miles stood up after you, flexing his sore, bench-marked hand.

“Are you sure you wanna go to that calc class?” you asked, making him look up.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice — but you didn’t know that. “If you go to that fair.”

You smiled again, probably at the situation — maybe at him.

“Deal. See you Friday.” You waved, and Miles let out a sigh as you walked away.

Being a vigilante was way easier than talking to people.

“~When you were mine, oh I was feeling so good…”

The rest of the day dragged on with the soft kick of bass and the hum of a guitar in his ear. The only thing Miles could think about was the fact that he had to meet you after school. The fact that you said yes surprised him. You were classmates, acquaintances at most — maybe you could actually live up to the “pana” thing.

“~Cause your love lit up, the whole neighbourhood…”

“Miles — question eight?” Miles lifted his head from the desk, staring at the question sheet for a moment.

“Uh… forty two thousand,” he guessed, eyes narrowing at Ms. Calleros in a mix of doubt and hope.

“Forty two thousand what?”

“Six… Litres per hour.”

“Lit— Joules,” he stuttered out.

“…Yeah. You got it.”

Damn it.

RIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIING! Miles was thinking about you too much, and thinking about AP Physics too little.

“Remember your homework due next week!” his teacher called out as everyone scrambled to pack up and leave.

Miles let himself sigh; it was one of many he wanted to let out today. He drew his hand away from the ear with his earbud in. At the same time, he locked eyes with his teacher. Mierda. (Shit.)

She gestured for him to come to her desk with a not-so entertained look on her face. Nothing new, he supposed.

“You know you can’t have your headphones in during class,” she started, glancing at his palm with the earbud in it.

It was faintly murmuring. Miles just awkwardly pressed the pause button.

“I know.”

“There seems to be a lot you know and don’t put into practice, Miles.” It was like every teacher was out to get him. Guess he wasn’t being as sneaky about the music as he thought.

“Sorry,” he offered, half-heartedly. Might as well get this over with.

“What were you listening to?” she asked, eyebrow lightly raised. “Apart from my lesson.”

“Uh… don’t know the name.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s been playing all class.” And since lunch — he hadn’t bothered to turn it off. He didn’t know it was that loud, though.

“I gotta to go to the counsellor’s office…” Miles said in a way that sounded more like a question. He pointed to the door like it would help.

“And I have to go to a meeting, but here I am.” She readjusted her glasses, looking at him curiously — maybe more knowingly.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

“Nah. Just tired today,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was an unconvincing beat of silence, before she unfolded her arms.

“…Well, I hope you feel more energetic soon.” Miles just nodded, making his way to the door.

Gracias a Dios… (Thank God.) She was leaving him alone.

“Oh, and good job on the quiz — one of the highest in this class.” Miles bit back the fleeting warmth in his cheeks, digging his hands further into his pockets.

“Thanks.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember that he wasn’t the Prowler all the time. Right know, he was just a kid: a kid who listened to his uncle’s favourite tracks and lived in a box with his mom in the city he called home — a city that was falling apart day by day.

“Miles!” That kid. That’s who he was — Miles Morales. And you were just you, jogging right behind him.

Stealing a glance of your expression — and hopefully nothing more — he kept ahead of you as the two of you walked to the counsellors office. Neither of you had anything to say, but Miles had so much to think about. You agreed to do the fair with him; maybe he shouldn’t have asked — he wasn’t here to make friends, after all. But you were here now, and he didn’t hesitate when he knocked on the door to the counsellors office.

“Come in!”

There was a screech of chairs as you two sat opposite the guidance counsellor, who was tapping away at her keyboard as usual. Miles’ eyes met yours for a brief second, and when you gave him a smile, he spent so long debating on whether or not to return it with his own that Ms. Weber had already placed a stack of freshly-printed papers on her desk.

“Firstly, you’re going to have to post these around school.” Miles looked at the obnoxiously modern and colourful posters, with “FRESHMAN CAREERS FAIR” in a dull font that was meant to look modern. He could probably make a better version himself, but he’d rather not spend any more time on the fair than he had to.

“I have a question,” you interrupted, straining to try and be polite. “Is this something I can put on my college application?”

“I’d assume so, since your friend is doing it for his,” Ms. Weber replied, glancing unassumingly at Miles through her red-framed glasses.

Like I wasn’t forced to. But you weren’t forced to. You chose to do this — for your… college application. Right.

“Okay, got it.” You nodded, letting Weber continue.

“Secondly, there’s a list of start-ups that will be here on the day. You should familiarise yourselves with them — you could find a useful connection.” Weber put a white piece of paper with some writing on top of the stack of posters.

“The ones that are highlighted are places we haven’t contacted yet.” There were only a few different businesses marked in yellow, one of which had “OSCORP” written next to it.

“Oscorp?” You seemed to notice too. Miles could only narrow his eyes.

“Their junior apprenticeship program starts soon” Weber explained, looking at Miles for a moment. “Maybe you should apply — especially you, Morales.”

Like Miles would ever work for Oscorp. They were the reason that his mom’s hospital was so underfunded. Unfortunately for him, he was supposed to pay them a visit anyway, regardless of how much he wanted to get into that tech school out of state.

“The fair’s going to be the Tuesday after winter break. Don’t forget.” She was looking more at Miles than you.

“Got it… Thank you, Ms…?” you trailed off, giving her a hopeful look.

She tapped sharply at the nameplate propped up on her desk. “Weber.”

“Ms. Weber,” you mirrored, nodding again and offering an awkward smile. “Thank you — we’ll try our best.

The two of you stepped out of the office, glancing at each other for a moment too long as you made it a couple of metres from the door.

“So uh…” you started. “Could I get your number?” …Huh?!

“Uh, I mean, like, so we can stay in contact,” you backtracked, trying not to grimace. “I mean, in case we need to talk over winter break.” He almost mirrored your grimace before nodding.

“Yeah, here.” Miles handed you his phone, careful to avoid brushing your hand this time before taking yours. He typed in his number, and then “Miles M.”

When he got his phone back, all you’d put in was your number. Without thinking, he typed in four letters: Pana. He slipped his phone in his pocket before he could question himself.

An extra class on Friday — with his pana. Miles could only rub his temples at the thought.

This whole school thing had gone farther than he’d hoped.

“As you exit, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the—”

Miles held back a grunt as people shoved past to leave the train carriage, eyes searching for you as he was practically being bounced around. If it wasn’t for Mr. Wellston’s useless rambling, he wouldn’t be going home on a Friday during rush hour, let alone on the last day before winter break.

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

The top of your backpack peeked out and just as quickly disappeared as someone in office wear, and an enormous jacket, ploughed through right before the doors closed; he could hear your stumble.

“Cabrón… (Asshole…)” Miles muttered under his breath.

Truthfully, he’d passed his stop ages ago, but he wasn’t about to let you go home alone this late. He hadn’t even been this far down the line before, but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Every night since you two went to the counsellor’s office, he’d been up, slinking through Brooklyn in his Prowler suit. People like you wouldn’t know, of course, but both Miles and his Uncle were picking up on things. With those dusty old police reports, the slew of missing people didn’t seem like much of a coincidence — and Miles didn’t think this “class” was one either.

In fact, Wellston himself didn’t seem like someone who was right to teach AP Calc. He certainly didn’t seem like the teacher type, and apart from that first class Miles had attended, all he really gave at this point were packs to do. And in that extra class of his, it was the exact same thing — except for that fact that he seemed to do everything to keep the two of you there.

“Are you sure you get it?” — “How did you get that number?” — “Where’s your calculator, Morales?”. Miles got you two out of there as fast as possible. At one point, he’d even written answers on your worksheet while Wellston wasn’t paying attention.

It was a hunch at most, but he’d always take his dad’s advice in stride, no matter how often he used to say it.

“Trust your gut, Miles.”

He wasn’t being over-protective, he was being cautious—

“What’s your problem, man?” Miles’ core tensed — like he’d done when training. He looked over to see you, and a total stranger.

“You got a place to be, huh? Can’t look where you’re goin’?”

Miles squeezed through a blockade of people to see you just standing there, unable to reply as a man blew up at you for seemingly no reason. The man’s words were getting progressively worse, his voice louder and his face so close to yours it made Miles cringe. The man’s eyes seemed to bulge out, but he wasn’t looking at you — or anything, really. He was clearly on drugs.

Miles was meant to get groceries for his mom. He kissed his teeth at the memory. Damn Wellston — and this guy.

The carriage was pretty much empty, being at the last few stops. Of course nobody cared when it came to stuff like this. Miles watched the veins in the man’s neck tighten, and his teeth were gritted together so hard it hurt to look at. He stopped his fist from clenching — he’d rather not start a fight with a junkie.

“Oy.” He put his hand on your shoulder, avoiding the man’s eyes. “Let’s get off here.”

“Wh—”

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” You two were out in about a second before the doors shut between you and the man, now violently knocking against the glass.

Holding onto your jacket, Miles kept you from falling as the train zipped past, the junkie long gone. He let out a sigh, eyes squeezing shut. This train station was stupidly bright.

“What was that for?” you asked, brows knitting together. “We could’ve just, I dunno, walked to a different carriage.”

“You serious?”

“The next train’s in…” Both of your eyes went to the screen, and you frowned. “20 minutes, Miles.”

“Well you would’ve had exactly zero minutes if that guy tried something.”

“Okay, that’s too far. There were other people—”

“They wouldn’t have done shit.” His annoyance only grew, and he couldn’t hold back when you were looking at him like that. “Where do you live? Cause it’s not Brooklyn — nobody gives a damn here.”

People were starting to look at you. “Are you gonna let go of my arm or what?”

Miles’ hand fell from your shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek, his own heartbeat only muffled by the sound of the train approaching on the other platform.

“Do you really live that far?”

“Yes?” You said, almost incredulously. “Like, two stations away from here.”

“Then we’re walking.”

Your head snapped back to look at him. “Seriously?”

“You want me to leave you here?”

It came out more like a threat than a question. The realisation made Miles’ eye twitch, but that only served to make him look more pissed.

“Go on,” you replied, your expression lacking any conviction.

“Cabezón…” he muttered to himself, before turning to walk to the exit.

“What was that?”

Miles kept walking, and the sound of your footsteps a couple seconds later made him breath a sigh of relief. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he was almost certain someone was watching you back there.

When you both got to the gates, he waited before pulling you through the emergency exit with him. Despite your protest, you followed him through it, blending into the crowd of people leaving and entering the station. Metro cards were a waste of money anyway.

It was a long, silent and somewhat unsettling walk. Miles had been through every corner of Brooklyn, and right here was about where he’d start looking behind his back, even as the Prowler. For some reason, you just had to live a light year away from school and in one of the worst neighbourhoods in this damned concrete jungle.

Despite the regret building in his stomach from how he’d talked to you, he was forcing more rational concerns into his head: the turns you were taking, the people they passed, how close he should stay to you. All of it was habitual at this point, but he couldn’t risk being caught off-guard, especially when every adult man you passed was starting to look a bit too much like Wellston. If you were closer, maybe he could’ve kept an arm around you, or something. Good thing his mom wasn’t here to beat his ass for thinking like an idiot.

Trying not to imagine his mom’s voice, Miles kept just a few inches behind you, right until you reached the front door.

“…Thanks.” He couldn’t read your expression — when was the last time he overthought something?

“Don’t worry about it.”

There was another beat of silence, interrupted only by the “beep!” of your electronic key fob at the door.

“See you.” Your voice echoed through the hall, followed by footsteps as the door slowly shut in front of him. “Be safe.”

Like he needed to be told that. “…You too.”

Miles lingered by the door, looking at you for a moment longer before he forced himself to turn away. Almost immediately after, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket — Uncle Aaron.

42nd street

Special delivery for your ma

A supply interception — his mom’s hospital was probably short by now. Miles squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away the exhaustion before replying.

omw Delivered

His day hadn’t ended yet — not by a long shot. The Prowler was always on the clock.

pana = casual term used to refer to friends, means "buddy" or "pal" (used in puerto rico, venezuela etc)

cabezón = means "stubborn" or "big-headed"

from here on out it's just straight up drafting cause i wrote part 1 and 2 ages ago but i don't have anything for part 3 and 4 so !!!!

upload schedule if you didn't know is gonna be: this series one week and then a random one shot the next week (so hopefully ill post part 3 in around 2 weeks? im DROWNING in school work atm so don't hope too hard...) anyways have a good one ^^

reblogs appreciated as always <3 go back to the series masterlist here or go to my atsv masterlist here!

#miles g morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles x reader #miles g morales #miles g #42!miles #miles gonzalo morales #prowler miles #atsv x you #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #vhstown

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chelseaknoo · 1 month ago

Text

25 days with Eminem

Eminem x reader

Day 5

Marshall was lying on his back, propped up by one elbow, his phone in his hand as he scrolled through messages and emails. I snuggled closer to him, resting my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The house felt so peaceful this morning, and I couldn’t help but smile, appreciating the calm after the flurry of yesterday’s festivities.

"Hey," I murmured, breaking the comfortable silence between us. "What do you think about taking Jackie out for a walk today? Maybe a little stroll in the park?"

Marshall didn't immediately respond, his attention still focused on his phone, but I could feel him glance down at me, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You wanna go outside in this weather?" He lifted an eyebrow, playfully teasing. "You sure you're not just trying to get out of doing chores today?"

I chuckled, looking up at him. "Okay, maybe I am trying to avoid the chores," I admitted, "but I also think Jackie could use a little fresh air. Plus, you’ve been cooped up with your phone all morning."

Marshall rolled his eyes, though I could see the smile on his lips. "Alright, alright. I’m down for it. I could use a break from work, too. And Jackie looks like he’s about to bounce off the walls." He glanced at our son, who was now drawing furiously on his paper, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

"I swear, this kid’s got more energy than we know what to do with," Marshall added with a laugh, sitting up slightly to reposition Jackie, who had started crawling across the bed in search of a new canvas to cover with crayon marks. "You ready to go outside, buddy?"

Jackie looked up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, giggling before reaching for his crayon again. His laugh filled the room with warmth. Marshall’s gaze softened, and he leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "I think he’s saying ‘yes,’ huh?"

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "I think he is," I agreed. "So, park it is. We can walk over by the lake. It’ll be nice."

Marshall stood up and stretched, giving me a playful look. "Alright, I guess I can’t argue with that. Let’s get this kid into his stroller, and we’ll head out. You’re lucky I love you." His grin was teasing, but I knew he meant it.

I grinned back, watching him as he made his way to the dresser, pulling on a hoodie and a pair of jeans. "I know you do. And you love Jackie, too." I stood up from the bed and moved to the closet, grabbing my coat. It was chilly outside, but the sun was shining, promising a crisp, beautiful winter day.

We worked together to get Jackie bundled up in his little winter coat, his chubby hands sticking out of the sleeves as he tried to wriggle free. Marshall chuckled as he tried to buckle Jackie into the stroller. "Man, I think he’s trying to start a protest about the cold. Can’t blame him, though—who wants to be all bundled up like that?"

"Hey, he’s going to be thankful once we’re outside, I promise," I said with a laugh, pulling my own coat on and adjusting my scarf.

Marshall glanced over at me, his lips curling into that smile that always made my heart skip a beat. "I think you just like the idea of getting him all cozy. Makes him look like a little bundle of joy ready to take on the world."

"Well, he is a little bundle of joy," I replied, zipping up my coat and making sure everything was in place. "And I’m definitely ready to take him on his first winter stroll."

We made our way downstairs, careful not to wake the girls. They were still sleeping in their rooms, likely recovering from all the excitement of the night before. The house felt quieter this morning, like we were in our own little world.

Once we were outside, the crisp air hit us, and Jackie let out a small squeal of excitement as he looked around, his eyes wide. The park wasn’t too far from the house, just a short walk down the street. Marshall took the stroller’s handle, pushing it gently as we walked side by side.

The park was nearly empty, save for a couple of other families enjoying the peaceful morning. The grass was still green despite the chill in the air, and the trees stood bare, their branches stretching up toward the sky. It was one of those days where the world felt still, as if everything was holding its breath.

"See, I told you," I said, glancing at Marshall. "Perfect day for a walk."

He smiled at me, his eyes soft. "Yeah, you were right. Good idea." He paused, looking at Jackie, who was staring at the world around him, utterly fascinated by everything. "You think he’s gonna remember this, like, when he’s older?"

I looked down at our son, his little face lit up with wonder. "I don’t think so. But I hope he’ll remember how we felt—how much we loved these moments with him." I smiled, reaching out to gently touch Jackie’s hand. "These are the memories we’ll hold onto, even if he doesn’t. You know?"

Marshall nodded, pushing the stroller a little faster. "Yeah... I get it. He won’t remember the walk, but we will. And that’s enough."

We walked together, enjoying the quiet of the morning, the soft chatter between us, and the joy of being a family. Jackie let out a giggle, and Marshall reached down to tickle him gently, causing him to burst into laughter. The sound of our son’s happiness filled the air, making everything feel right.

"Good call on the walk," Marshall said, giving me a side glance. "It’s nice to slow down sometimes."

"Yeah," I agreed, my heart full. "It is."

We continued our stroll through the park, the crisp air nipping at our cheeks, but it wasn’t enough to deter us. Jackie, still fascinated by everything around him, was happily babbling in his stroller, his hands reaching out as if trying to grab at the world. Marshall and I exchanged a smile, watching our son take it all in with such wide-eyed wonder.

As we walked past a playground, Jackie’s gaze locked onto the swings, and he let out a small noise, his arms moving excitedly. Marshall laughed, slowing the stroller down as he looked at me. "I think he wants to swing."

I grinned, feeling that familiar excitement in my chest. "Well, why don’t we give him a chance?" I reached out and helped Marshall lift Jackie from his stroller, his little legs kicking in the air. Jackie let out a delighted giggle as Marshall cradled him in his arms.

"You think he’s too little for the swings?" I asked, looking at Marshall, my voice full of curiosity.

"Nah, let’s see if he likes it." Marshall carefully lowered Jackie into the small seat on one of the swings, his hands holding onto him to make sure he was secure. Jackie’s face lit up as soon as the swing began to move. The wind gently brushed against his cheeks as the motion rocked him back and forth, and I could hear the sound of his laughter ringing through the air.

"Oh my gosh, he’s loving it!" I exclaimed, my heart swelling as I watched Marshall gently push the swing. Jackie’s giggles were contagious, and Marshall couldn’t help but smile at how happy their little one looked.

"Yeah, he’s a natural," Marshall said, his voice full of pride. "I think he’s gonna be swinging on his own before we know it."

I stood beside them, resting my hands on Marshall’s arm as we both watched Jackie’s pure joy. It was moments like these—simple, beautiful moments—that made all the stresses of life fade away. Our son, the tiny little person who had brought so much light into our world, was here, enjoying a perfect morning with us.

I glanced up at Marshall, catching the look in his eyes—the same look of love and appreciation he’d given me countless times before. "He’s growing up so fast," I said quietly, my voice a little softer now.

Marshall nodded, his eyes still on Jackie. "Yeah, he is. But that’s what happens, right? They just... grow. It’s crazy how much happens in such a short time." He gently gave the swing another push, and Jackie let out another happy squeal, his face lighting up like the sun.

"You think he’ll like the park when he gets older?" I asked, trying to imagine a future where Jackie was running around, laughing, and playing with other kids.

"I hope so," Marshall replied, his voice thoughtful. "I want him to have all the good things we had growing up—fun, freedom, and lots of laughs." He looked at me with a smirk. "Though, we might have to teach him how to keep up with us."

I laughed, imagining Jackie running circles around us. "Definitely. But he’s got good genes," I said, my voice playful. "He’s got you in him. He’ll be running marathons by the time he’s five."

Marshall chuckled, his hands still holding onto the swing. "Well, if he’s anything like me, he’ll probably want to be the fastest. And then I’ll have to teach him how to win with style."

We shared a laugh, the sound of our love for each other blending seamlessly with the happiness Jackie was radiating.

Eventually, Marshall slowed the swing to a gentle stop, and I leaned down to scoop Jackie up from the seat. His cheeks were flushed from the breeze, and his little arms reached out for me, his smile wide as ever.

"Looks like someone had a good time," I said, kissing the top of his head as I held him against me.

"He definitely did." Marshall smiled at the sight of Jackie’s joy, his own heart obviously full. "You’re a natural dad, you know that?"

I grinned at him. "I think it’s just because he’s such an easy kid to love."

Marshall chuckled softly and pulled me close, wrapping an arm around my waist. "He really is. We’re lucky."

"I couldn’t agree more," I said, resting my head against his shoulder for a moment as we stood there, our little family together, enjoying the peace of the morning. Jackie had calmed down now, but he was still happily clinging to me, his tiny fingers grasping at my shirt.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, we walked through the park, Jackie content in my arms, and Marshall at my side. There was no rush—no need to be anywhere. We simply existed in that moment, fully aware of how precious this time was.

Marshall broke the silence, his voice low and affectionate. "So, you think we’re ready to take on the rest of the day?"

I smiled up at him. "I think we are. But for now, I’m happy just being here with you guys."

He gave me a soft, loving kiss on the top of my head before we continued walking.

As we slowly made our way down the park path, the cool breeze still gently brushing against our skin, I turned to Marshall with a thoughtful smile. Jackie, now fully calm after his swing adventure, was quietly nestled in my arms, his little hands gripping onto me.

"Hey, what do you think about grabbing a coffee?" I asked, my voice light and casual, as I began to carefully strap Jackie back into his stroller, making sure he was comfortable. "There’s that new café that just opened up downtown. We could head there after this."

Marshall raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A new café, huh? Sounds good. You’ve got my attention. When did this place open? I didn't even know there was a new spot in town."

I chuckled, giving Jackie a quick, playful tickle before finishing up with the stroller straps. "I heard about it last week—just a cute little place. They’re supposed to have really good coffee and pastries. And I thought it might be nice to try something different. Plus, it'll give us a chance to sit and relax for a bit."

Marshall leaned down to give Jackie a quick kiss on the cheek before straightening up. "You know, a coffee sounds perfect right now. I can’t even remember the last time I had something besides the stuff we brew at home. And getting out of the house sounds pretty good."

I beamed at his response, feeling that familiar excitement of doing something new together. "Yeah, exactly. A little break from the usual routine. And I think Jackie will like it, too. He’s at that age where he loves being out and about."

Marshall nodded in agreement, pushing the stroller a little further as we began walking toward the park exit. "Alright, let’s do it. A nice, quiet café sounds like the perfect way to end the morning. And I’ll admit, I’m curious to see what this new place has to offer."

"Great!" I smiled, wrapping my arm around his as we strolled side by side. "It’ll be nice to have a change of scenery. Maybe we can even get a little treat for ourselves."

Marshall shot me a sideways grin. "So, you’re saying we might get a pastry, too?" He raised an eyebrow playfully. "Now you’ve got me even more sold on the idea."

"Well, of course," I said with a laugh. "What’s a café without a pastry, right?"

We continued walking toward the café, our pace relaxed, enjoying the calmness of the moment. Jackie seemed content in his stroller, watching the world go by with those big, curious eyes. The thought of grabbing a warm drink and spending some time just enjoying each other’s company felt perfect.

"I think Jackie��s going to love the café, too," I said, glancing down at him. "Maybe we can let him have a little taste of something sweet. Just a tiny bit."

Marshall smiled, clearly entertained by the idea. "I’m sure he’ll love it. Though, I have a feeling that he’ll probably be more interested in the place itself than the pastry. I’m sure he’s got his sights set on the cups and napkins or something."

I laughed, nodding. "Yeah, he’s at that age where everything is fascinating. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to grab the menu or knock over a sugar packet."

We both chuckled at the thought, and as we neared the café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filled the air. It was a small, cozy spot with large windows, a few outdoor tables, and a welcoming, rustic vibe. It was the kind of place you could spend hours in, enjoying the warmth of a good drink and the simple pleasure of being together.

"This place looks perfect," I said, glancing at Marshall. "It’s got that cozy vibe, you know?"

"Definitely," he agreed, pushing the stroller up to the door. "And it’s got that feel like it’s got character, like it’s been here for ages. You can tell they’ve put a lot of care into it."

I smiled as we stepped inside, the sound of soft music playing in the background. It was busy but not overly crowded—just the right amount of hustle and bustle to give it energy without feeling overwhelming. We found a table by the window, giving us a great view of the street outside.

As we settled in, I glanced at Marshall, who had already started scanning the menu. "What are you thinking? They have a bunch of different brews, but I’m kind of in the mood for something sweet."

Marshall looked up at me with a smile. "Sweet, huh? I think I can get on board with that. Maybe something like a mocha or a caramel latte? And I’m definitely getting one of those pastries." He gave Jackie a playful look. "What do you think, buddy? You want to try some cinnamon rolls?"

I laughed, reaching over to gently ruffle Jackie’s hair. "I think he’d probably prefer to eat the napkins, but sure, let’s get the cinnamon rolls. It’s a treat day."

The warmth of the café surrounded us as we continued to talk about what we wanted to try. There was something about being here, in this little space with Marshall and Jackie, that made everything feel so perfectly simple. We were creating memories, one small moment at a time, and I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

After placing our orders, I sat back in my chair, watching Marshall interact with Jackie, his face full of that familiar adoration. As much as we had our busy days and responsibilities, moments like this made it all worth it—the quiet times, the laughter, and the feeling of being together.

"So," Marshall said as he caught my eye, his voice light, "this was a good idea. Glad you brought it up."

"Me too," I agreed, feeling content in the present moment. "This is nice. Just... us. And Jackie."

As we settled into our seats, the sound of soft chatter and the faint clinking of cups and plates filled the air around us. Jackie was happily babbling away, kicking his little legs in excitement as we set up his high chair at the table. Marshall and I shared a knowing smile, both of us recognizing how much these little moments meant. We’d always found joy in the simplest things, and today was no different.

The waitress arrived shortly with our order, setting down steaming cups of coffee in front of us. Marshall’s mocha was exactly how he liked it—rich and creamy, with just the right amount of sweetness. Mine was a warm caramel latte, the sweetness of the caramel perfectly complementing the smooth coffee. We both took a sip, savoring the warmth.

"This is good," Marshall said, taking another long sip, his eyes closing for a second as he enjoyed the flavor. "You made a good choice."

I smiled, reaching over to steal a small sip from his cup. "I know, I have good taste," I teased, winking at him.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. You always have to make sure I’m taken care of, huh?"

I shrugged playfully, giving him a look. "Well, it’s my job to keep you on your toes."

We both turned our attention to Jackie, who was now chewing on a teething toy he’d managed to pull from his diaper bag. His little eyes were wide with curiosity as he watched the world around him, fascinated by the new environment. He babbled in that cute way babies do, cooing at the noises and people in the café.

"I swear, he’s already trying to make friends," I said, laughing softly as Jackie smiled up at the person sitting at the table next to us. "He’s got that charm, you know?"

Marshall smiled warmly, his eyes full of pride as he watched our son interact with the world. "He does. He’s got that vibe, that ‘I’m gonna take over the world’ energy."

I nodded, my gaze softening as I looked at Jackie. "And we’re just here to watch him do it."

Marshall reached over to tickle Jackie’s little belly, making him giggle. The sound was so pure, so innocent, and it filled the space with happiness. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a surge of love for both of them. "He’s really growing up fast. I can’t believe how much he’s changed in just eight months."

"I know," I agreed, my voice a little quieter now. "It feels like yesterday when we brought him home from the hospital. And now he’s already exploring the world." I looked at Marshall, my heart full. "It’s crazy how fast time goes."

Marshall’s expression softened, and he gave me a gentle smile. "Yeah, it really is. But you know, it feels good knowing that we’re getting to experience it all together. It’s like we’re building something here—something that’s just ours."

I nodded, feeling my chest tighten with emotion. "Exactly. It’s not just about the big moments—it’s the small ones, too. The ones that happen in places like this, when it’s just us, enjoying the day."

Marshall leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. "I couldn’t agree more."

We spent the next few moments savoring our coffee, nibbling on the cinnamon rolls, and just enjoying the quiet hum of the café around us. Jackie, meanwhile, seemed to be in his own little world, fascinated by the noise of the coffee machine and the people chatting around us.

At one point, Marshall stood up and gently took Jackie from his high chair, holding him in his arms. "You wanna walk around a little, buddy?" he asked, looking down at our son with a smile.

Jackie made a small, excited noise, his tiny hands reaching for Marshall’s face as if to say, "Yes, please!" He was so full of energy, it seemed like he’d never stop moving.

I watched them, my heart swelling with love as Marshall carefully walked around the café with Jackie in his arms. It was such a simple thing, but seeing them together like that made everything feel perfect.

"You’ve got a good little buddy there," I said, my voice soft, as I watched them interact.

Marshall looked back at me, his expression tender. "Yeah, I do. We both do. He’s our little guy."

I smiled, the warmth of the moment enveloping me. "He really is."

After a few more minutes of walking around and making small talk with the friendly baristas, Marshall came back to the table, gently settling Jackie back into his high chair. "He’s good for now. Just had to let him stretch his legs a little."

"Yeah, I think he liked the walk," I said with a smile, watching Jackie reach out for his cup, trying to mimic what we were doing. "He’s definitely taking in everything."

Marshall laughed, shaking his head. "He’s gonna be one of those kids who asks a million questions, I can already tell."

I grinned, feeling that same excitement about the future. "And we’ll be there to answer every single one of them. One day at a time."

We spent the rest of the morning at the café, chatting, enjoying our drinks, and watching Jackie as he explored his new surroundings. It was one of those perfect mornings that felt simple yet meaningful—a reminder of what really mattered.

As we packed up to leave, Marshall took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "That was nice," he said with a contented sigh.

I nodded, smiling as we made our way to the door. "It really was. Sometimes it’s the little things that make the best memories."

"Agreed," Marshall replied, his eyes full of love as he looked at me. "I’m glad we’re making memories like this."

"Me too," I said softly, squeezing his hand in return. "Me too."

As we pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, the air had turned a little chillier, the sun now sitting lower in the sky. Jackie was starting to get fussy, his little eyelids fluttering as he yawned, signaling that he was ready for his afternoon nap. Marshall and I exchanged glances, both of us already knowing what needed to be done.

"I’ll take him upstairs," I said softly, my hands already reaching for Jackie, who was squirming in his stroller, rubbing his tired eyes.

Marshall nodded, stepping closer to me and placing a gentle kiss on the top of Jackie’s head. "Alright, I’ll get the bags and meet you up there." His voice was low and affectionate, the warmth in it making me smile as I cradled our son in my arms.

Walking inside, I could hear the quiet hum of the house. It was peaceful, but there was a sense of anticipation in the air as I made my way upstairs. Jackie’s fussing had settled into soft whimpers as he nuzzled into me, clearly ready to rest. I carefully opened the door to the nursery and gently laid him down in his crib, making sure he was comfortable before giving him a soft kiss on his forehead.

I turned back toward the door, quietly stepping out into the hallway when something caught my attention—a soft noise from down the hall. I glanced at the girls’ rooms, surprised to see the door to each of their rooms still closed. I could tell from the sound of their deep, rhythmic breathing that they were still asleep. It wasn’t a shock; the late-night Christmas preparations and festivities always left them tired.

Marshall had followed me upstairs and paused behind me, his eyes glancing at the girls’ rooms before his gaze turned back to me. He smiled, that playful glint in his eyes lighting up. "Well," he said, his voice dropping in tone, "since they’re still out cold, guess that means we have a little privacy, huh?"

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a flutter of excitement in my stomach. "Oh, really?" I asked, turning to face him, trying to hide the playful smirk on my lips. "And what do you suggest we do with all that privacy?"

Marshall stepped closer to me, his hand brushing lightly against my arm. "I think we could take full advantage of it," he said, his voice low and flirty. He placed his hands on my waist, pulling me a little closer, his lips hovering just above mine. "You’ve had a long day, babe. Maybe we should... unwind."

I felt the heat in my cheeks as his words sank in. The energy between us shifted, and I could feel the electric connection sparking with each small movement. "Unwind?" I asked, my voice teasing, knowing exactly what he was suggesting. "And how do you think we should unwind?"

Marshall’s lips curled into a smirk, and I could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Well, for starters, how about we go to our room and just... forget about everything for a while?"

I felt a shiver run down my spine as he pulled me into his chest, the warmth of his body against mine making my heart beat a little faster. "Sounds tempting," I said, my voice low, a little breathy now. "But you’re going to have to convince me."

He grinned and kissed me, the kiss slow and deliberate, his lips moving against mine with a familiar tenderness, but there was an underlying heat that quickly intensified. I responded instinctively, my hands moving to the back of his neck as the kiss deepened. We were both craving this—this moment of closeness, of intimacy.

Marshall pulled away slightly, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "I think we deserve some alone time, don’t you? Just us. No distractions. No kids. Just you and me."

I shivered again, the combination of his words and the soft touch of his lips against my skin making my breath catch in my throat. "I like the sound of that," I murmured, my fingers threading through his hair as I pressed closer to him, the space between us vanishing.

Marshall’s hands slid down to my hips, his grip firm but gentle. "Good," he said with a grin. "Because I’ve been thinking about this all day."

I bit my lip, smiling up at him. "Oh really? All day?" I teased, stepping closer, closing the gap even more. "What exactly have you been thinking about?"

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he kissed me again, more urgently this time, as though he couldn’t wait any longer. I responded eagerly, my hands sliding over his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric of his shirt. His hands moved to my back, pulling me even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of having me near.

We broke the kiss again, both of us breathing a little heavier now. Marshall’s eyes were dark with desire as he looked at me, his voice a little hoarse. "I’ve been thinking about how perfect this moment is—how it feels to have you all to myself. I want to make the most of it, you know?"

I swallowed, my pulse quickening as his words hit me like a wave. I leaned in, my lips brushing against his once more. "Well, then let’s make it count," I said, my voice husky with excitement.

Marshall’s lips quirked into a smile, but there was a challenge in his eyes. "Oh, we will," he said, and before I could react, he took my hand and gently tugged me toward our bedroom. There was no rush in his movements, but I could tell by the way his eyes were locked on me, by the slight tension in his body, that he was just as eager as I was for the quiet moment we were about to share.

Once we reached the bedroom, Marshall turned to face me, his hands gently running up my arms, sending shivers through my body. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with admiration as his eyes traced the outline of my figure. "I swear, every time I look at you, I fall for you all over again."

I smiled, my heart swelling with warmth at his words. "You always know how to make me feel special."

He leaned in, brushing his lips against my cheek. "Because you are, babe," he said softly, his breath warm against my skin. "You always will be."

With that, the moment between us became more than just a flirtatious exchange—it was a connection, a reminder of why we loved each other, why we chose each other every single day. As we moved toward the bed, the weight of the world seemed to fall away. There was no pressure, no distractions—just the two of us, together, in a quiet moment that we both desperately needed.

Marshall’s hands moved to the hem of my shirt, lifting it slowly, his eyes never leaving mine as he did. I felt a rush of anticipation, the heat between us rising. "You sure you’re ready?" he asked, his voice soft but teasing.

"Absolutely," I whispered back, my heart racing as he undressed me slowly, savoring each second of the moment. "Let’s make the most of it."

Marshall's eyes darkened as he stepped back to appreciate the view. He took his time, his gaze lingering on my exposed skin, and I felt a thrill of desire rush through me. He reached for the button of his own jeans, the sound of the zipper echoing in the stillness of the room as he slid them down.

We stepped closer together, our bodies meeting in the middle of the room. His bare chest pressed against mine, and I could feel the warmth of his arousal. My breath hitched as he reached around, cupping my butt with both hands and pulling me against him, the bulge in his boxers teasing my core.

Marshall’s mouth found mine again, our kisses growing more urgent, more demanding. His hands roamed my body, caressing every inch of me as if he were memorizing my shape, my taste. His fingertips traced a path down my spine, sending a shiver down to my toes, and I moaned into his mouth, the anticipation of what was to come making my legs feel wobbly.

He led me to the bed, his hands guiding me to sit on the edge as he dropped to his knees. His eyes met mine, filled with a mix of love and lust that made my stomach flip. He kissed my neck, his tongue tracing the delicate line of my collarbone before moving lower, his mouth closing around one of my nipples.

The sensation was exquisite, making me arch my back and gasp. His other hand slid down to my waistband, and I lifted my hips, helping him to remove my pants and underwear.

Marshall kissed a trail down my stomach, his tongue swirling around my belly button before dipping lower. He spread my legs apart, his gaze lingering on the apex of my thighs. His eyes met mine again, asking for permission without words, and I nodded, my breath hitching in anticipation. He kissed my inner thighs, his beard tickling my skin, and I felt his warm breath against my folds.

As his mouth found me, I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped my lips. His tongue danced over my clit, teasing and stroking in a rhythm that had me gripping the bedsheets tightly. I watched as he grew more and more focused, his eyes closed in pleasure, and I knew he enjoyed this as much as I did.

Marshall’s touch grew more deliberate, and I felt his thumb gently press against my anus, sending a jolt of excitement through me. We’d been exploring each other’s bodies for years, but there was something about this moment that made it feel new, like we were discovering each other all over again.

"Ready?" he murmured, his eyes looking up at me, filled with love and anticipation.

I nodded, my breathing shallow as he slid his thumb in just a little, preparing me for what was to come. He was always so tender, so caring, making sure I was comfortable with every step. The sensation was foreign yet thrilling, the slight pressure building a delicious tension inside me.

Marshall stood, his eyes never leaving mine as he grabbed the lube from the bedside drawer. He coated his fingers, and then, with the utmost care, he slid one inside me, moving it in and out slowly, stretching me. The feeling was strange at first, but as my body began to relax, the pleasure grew.

"Breathe," he whispered, his voice soothing and reassuring, and I took a deep breath, letting it out in a shaky sigh as he added another finger. He continued to kiss and suckle my breasts as he worked his digits in and out of me, the sensation becoming more intense with each movement.

When I was fully relaxed, he slid his fingers out and positioned himself behind me. He kissed the base of my neck, his breath hot against my skin, as he lined himself up with my entrance. With one hand on my hip, he pushed in, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust.

The feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that had me gripping the bedsheets even tighter. I took another deep breath, focusing on the sensation, letting my body get used to the unfamiliar fullness.

Marshall paused, his hand moving to my clit, his thumb circling it as he began to move his hips, pushing in a little deeper with each stroke. I felt my body tense, and then, as if on cue, I relaxed, letting him in further.

He picked up the pace, his movements steady and rhythmic. I moaned, my eyes closing as the pleasure began to build, the sensation in my ass mixing with the pleasure from my clit to create a crescendo that had me on the edge of climax.

"Open your eyes," he said, his voice strained. "Look at me."

I obeyed, my eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. The sight of him, his face a mask of concentration and desire, was almost too much to bear. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, I knew this was more than just a physical release—it was an emotional one too.

As the pleasure grew, so did our connection, and I felt my orgasm begin to build, my muscles tightening around him. "Marshall," I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper.

He groaned in response, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he felt me getting closer. "Come for me, baby," he said, his voice thick with passion. "Come on my cock."

The words sent me over the edge, and I shattered around him, my body convulsing with the force of my climax. Marshall followed closely behind, his own release filling me up as he collapsed against my back, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold me tight.

We lay there for a moment, panting, our hearts racing as we caught our breath. The room was silent except for the sound of our heavy breathing, the intensity of the moment still palpable in the air.

Finally, he pulled out and turned me to face him, his eyes searching mine for any sign of discomfort. I gave him a soft smile, my eyes filled with love and satisfaction. "That was amazing," I murmured, my voice still shaky from the aftershocks of pleasure.

Marshall’s smile grew wider, his eyes still dark with passion. "You’re amazing," he said, his voice tender as he kissed me, a gentle reminder of the love that was always at the center of our passion.

We lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the warmth of our bodies creating a cocoon of intimacy. For a moment, it was just us, lost in the aftermath of our shared pleasure, the world outside the bedroom walls forgotten.

Hailie woke up to soft sounds coming from down the hall, faint but unmistakable. At first, she wasn't sure what it was—some muffled noises, the creak of the bed, a low hum that made her cheeks flush a little. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand, realizing that it was already past noon. She stretched out in bed, rubbing her eyes, but the sounds continued. Her curiosity piqued, she got up and tiptoed toward the hallway, wondering what was going on.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she heard it more clearly—low groans, muffled by the walls but still audible enough to make her pause. She shook her head, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck as she glanced toward your bedroom door. She knew what was going on, but it still felt strange. They were probably just... having some time alone. Her parents had a way of doing that, especially when they thought no one was around.

Not wanting to stay in the uncomfortable silence, Hailie decided to go downstairs to see if Stevie and Alaina were awake, hoping it might distract her from the awkward sounds upstairs. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she found them both sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on juice and scrolling through their phones.

"Morning," she said, trying to act casual, though her voice was a little higher than usual.

"Morning," Stevie responded, looking up briefly before going back to her phone. Alaina didn't acknowledge her right away, but Hailie could tell she was wide awake, as usual.

"What's up with you two?" Hailie asked, taking a seat at the table and avoiding looking at them for a moment. She kept her gaze down at the table, still trying to push out the thoughts of what was going on upstairs.

Stevie looked at her with a knowing smile. "Oh, you heard them, huh?"

Hailie blinked and looked up, a bit startled. "What do you mean?"

Alaina chuckled from the other side of the table, her eyes dancing with amusement. "We all know what’s happening in that room. They’re doing their thing."

Hailie felt her face turn bright red, but she didn't know how to respond. She hesitated, trying to make sense of what was happening. "Wait, you guys—" she started, her voice trailing off, unsure how to ask the question.

Stevie shrugged, clearly not phased by the situation. "They've been at it for a while. I don't know how you didn’t know, honestly."

Hailie groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Ugh, I can't even."

Alaina giggled, leaning back in her chair. "It’s fine. Happens all the time. You get used to it."

"Can we just... not talk about it?" Hailie said, feeling the awkwardness settle deeper in her stomach. "Like, I don’t need to know about their... private time."

Stevie raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Oh, come on. You’ve gotta admit, it’s a little funny."

"I swear to God, I’m gonna go back upstairs and put my headphones in," Hailie said, shaking her head. She quickly stood up, trying to block out the noise and the image of what she’d heard. "I don’t need to know any more details."

The three of them laughed as she quickly made her way back upstairs, her cheeks still flushed. She didn’t know how to process what had just happened, but one thing was certain—she was definitely going to need a little more time to get used to her parents' “alone time” after today.

#eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader #eminem #eminem imagine #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers #slim shady #fluff and smut

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catscidr · 10 months ago

Text

i woke up and got possessed by the urge to write the smut i wanted to ramble about yesterday. i have nothing else to say. you cant blame me for any of this. it was inevitable.

cw shameless smut, dottore x afab reader, brainrot rambling. he uses his fingers for a good cause °ᗜ°

working overtime was a chore. your bosses expected you to stay after hours to work on documents meant for the next day and you’d get judgemental looks if you didn’t stay in the office longer than you needed to. unfortunately for you, the knowledge that they might think lesser of you for not doing overtime was enough for you to stay.

apparently not many people shared the sentiment though, because when you finally look up from your computer screen to stretch your aching muscles, you’re met with deafening silence– aside from your shoulders cracking.

which isn’t to say that no one is in the office besides you, either. but you doubt zandik stayed behind because he cared about the managers judging him. he always seemed to move along his own schedule, placing more importance on work than relationships with… anyone. granted, it’s not like he was ecstatic to work at the office, but he was naturally good at whatever job the boss gave him. to other people it looks like he works hard, but really, he’s just doing the bare minimum. you don’t want to think that people are too dense to notice it, but at the same time you can’t really blame them; it’s not like it’s normal for overworked office employees to notice such little details about a coworker that doesn’t care for them.

though, ever since you and your cubicle neighbor got told off by the man himself, you’ve found yourself looking for him in crowds. when you take the subway on your way home you try to spot his icy blue hair amongst the sea of suits and blazers, when you attend office-funded outings at the bar you hope to find him sipping on the cheap beer they provide, and even now you’re subtly trying to catch a glimpse of him in the dim lighting of the office. your efforts usually end in failure, unfortunately- but not this time.

you always expect to see nothing but tired businessmen and women cramped in the subway, to see the same faces you greet every day of the week downing that cheap beer, and to see a myriad of black screens in the office.

you didn’t think you’d meet his gaze as he walked out of the boss’s office, completely inconspicuous but still harbouring that same aura of suspiciousness.

“you’re still here?” you ask before you can stop your lips from moving. sure it was currently three hours after hours, but speaking so informally to a senior could bode poorly for you at any time.

thankfully, he just chuckles as a response. but you notice how his lips immediately tilt back down to their original resting state, the lighting making it look like he’s scowling down at you.

“i had to take care of some personal business,” he says plainly, not elaborating further (and you think he would avoid doing so even if you asked). you nod, glancing down at your uniform to smooth it down nervously, suddenly acutely aware of how tired you must look. “well i hope you were able to take care of it without a… hitch,” you cough awkwardly.

sure you knew zandik well enough to not call him a stranger, but recently it seems like he’s been spending more time in your head than in the office. you blame his mysterious and brooding personality. “i understand why authors like to write mysterious love interests in their romance novels…” you think offhandedly, for no reason at all whatsoever.

his footsteps pull you out of your daydream, right before your mind drifted off to not-so-professional thoughts. pulling the rolling chair out from under the desk, zandik takes a seat next to you, crossing an ankle over his knee. you shuffle away to give him some space (to politely accommodate his long legs or to stop yourself from pouncing on him, you wouldn’t be able to tell).

“i appreciate the sentiment. but why are you still here? you work efficiently, i doubt you’re so behind schedule that you need to stay in the office for this long.” the words that leave his lips entrance you– the slight drawl, bordering on seductive, makes you swallow the saliva in your mouth. you shake your head, humbly dismissing his praise (though your brain buzzes at what else you wish he would say).

“i just had to take care of some… things,” you respond awkwardly, fidgeting with your fingertips as you avoid looking into his carmine eyes for too long. he hums, placing down the file he had been carrying around on the desk to cross his arms over his chest, expression unreadable aside from the corners of his lips tilting up ever so slightly.

“right. things,” he says, his tone deep, rumbling in your chest as your heart hammers into your ribcage. you’ve talked to plenty of coworkers over your time working here, but none have made you break a sweat from their mere presence.

“h-haha, yeah, things. um, how have you been? i want to apologize again for the other day, we really didn’t mean to pry into your personal life, we were just-“ zandik makes a tsk noise, “concerned for my wellbeing, of course,” he finishes. the ghost of a smile he wore vanished, leaving you with a feeling of dread and anticipation. “you’re not the only one looking out for your coworkers though, sweetheart. you don’t look too good yourself,” zandik says, raising a brow at you. you were all but shivering under his gaze, brows stopping the sweat that had started building up on your forehead from getting in your eyes. if anything, you looked worse than him. you barely register the pet name before he speaks up again.

“we can’t have you overworking yourself too much, can we? you’re one of out best employees,” he says your name softly, practically purring. the same thing you felt that morning came back tenfold– though this time you couldn’t possibly leave for a bathroom break to take care of it.

zandik approaches you like a wolf does with a rabbit, slowly and quietly, to reduce the chances of you fleeing the scene. he gets close enough that his knee almost grazes yours.

“what kind of senior would i be if i just let you go without offering any kind of help?” you knew it was a rhetorical question and he wasn’t expecting an answer, but you still try to muster up the courage to say something, anything.

“is there anything i can do to help?” he continues, tone sickeningly sweet, practically foreign on his tongue. but the more he speaks, the more you feel your resolve melt, the more he pushes your buttons until-

“you’re not very good at being subtle,” he whispers, placing the tip of his shoe right up against your clothed core. you keen, legs widening as if on autopilot, but back away into your chair to flee from the sinful sensation. his lips stretch into a grin, the same expression you played on repeat in your mind when you got off a night ever since he confronted you and your coworker.

“don’t run away now. your body is practically begging for me to touch you,” he coos, extending his slender leg to press his polished shoe right up into you again, pulling a whine out of your lips. you lick your lips and swallow the lump in your throat, scrambling to say something to save your dignity.

“y-you don’t know that. are you a… doctor or something?” you huff, trying to steady your breathing. he slides his foot up and down your panties, pencil skirt riding up the more you widen your legs. zandik laughs under his breath, eyes narrowing at you for a split second.

“yeah, i am. that’s what i do as a second job. i run an underground hospital and run unethical tests on desperate patients.” the words roll over you like drops of water on a chinchilla– even if you did listen to him though, you wouldn’t have believed him. “that’s why i can tell that your heart is pounding. that’s why i can tell that you want this,” he coos, leaning forward ever so slightly. you buck your hips unconsciously, chasing the feeling he oh so graciously was giving you.

“that’s not- mngh, ‘m not a pervert,” you whimper, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide your lewd expression. zandik only laughs at you, pulling back to stand up and lean over you, his lips right next to your ears.

he places a hand on your thigh, the other going between your legs to rub at your drenched panties. “oh but you are. getting this wet when i’ve barely done anything to you,” he purrs, middle finger gliding up to tease your clit. “just want me to take you right here, huh? my my, you’re so desperate.”

if you hadn’t taken care of your needs you would have come already, but even then you were still teetering on the edge of an explosive climax. his calloused, slender fingers slide up and down, teasing your clothed hole as it flutters around nothing. you try to close your legs to keep his hand steady but he swiftly brings one knee up to rest on the chair, keeping your legs spread. zandik takes ahold of your wrist with his free hand and pulls your arm away from your face as you turn your head away to hide.

“oh no you don’t,” he hisses as he grabs your face with one hand, cheeks squishing together to turn your head back to face him. “you’re going to look at me when you come.” your eyes flutter, thighs twitching as the coil in your lower abdomen threatens to snap. your gaze flickers down between your legs to watch his deft fingers toy with you, then drag up to look at the tent in his slacks. zandik tightens his grip on your face, forcing you to look up at him.

“are you fucked dumb already? i said don’t look away,” he hisses, eyes narrowing at you as he pulls your ruined underwear to the side to slide two fingers into your cunt. you squeal at the stretch, but you were so wet that you didn’t feel more than a pinch before you started moaning freely again. his thumb rubs tight circles over your clit as his middle and ring fingers pump into you earnestly. he curls them up to prod at the spongy spot inside of you, and your eyes roll back momentarily from the sensation.

“come on, i can tell you’re close sweetheart,” he coos, lips ghosting over yours, just away from reach. you whine and moan, hands gripping his flexing forearms as you feel your body lose control.

the sound of your pussy squelching in the otherwise quiet office throws you over the edge, your vision going white as you just barely make out zandik’s face while he makes you ride out your orgasm, adding a third finger inside of your cunt to stuff you full. all of his fingers stop but his thumb, still rubbing your sensitive clit as you twitch and jolt in pleasure.

“thaaat’s it, that’s my girl, ride it out,” he purrs, grinning down at you with a smug laugh. “took me so well,” zandik praises, curling his fingers up inside your used cunt. you thrash weakly, letting out a muffled ”‘s too much”. he continues for a few seconds before letting go of your face and pulling out his fingers slowly, looking down to admire the slick covering his hand.

“mmh, made a mess. gonna clean it up?” he asks coyly, bringing his hand up to your lips. you waste no time to lick it off, brows furrowing at the tangy taste. he pulls his hand away to lick it himself, holding eye contact with you as he goes over where you just cleaned him off. a shiver runs down your spine at the sight.

while you shut your eyes for a moment to catch your breath, he grabs a few tissues from the box on your desk and cleans the mess between your legs, pressing down on your aching clit on purpose to make sure you don’t fall asleep. you jolt, whimpering as you glare weakly at him, earning yourself a chuckle from the man between your legs.

“i hope you don’t think this is a one-time fling,” he whispers, tossing the used tissues in the bin under your desk. zandik pulls the edge of your skirt down to cover your messy thighs and straightens up, turning to leave. he palms his bulge, holding eye contact with you as you stare at his hand, feeling yourself get wet again.

“see you tomorrow.”

#୧ ‧₊˚rambling!#dottore office au #i need him so bad it's not even funny anymore #dottore please just one chance JUST ONE. ILL BE GOOD #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #dottore x afab reader #dottore x fem!reader #genshin smut #dottore smut #୧ ‧₊˚cat's work!

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lynnlovesthestars · 1 year ago

Note

Could you do a Astarion x Tiefling Reader were they are sitting alone underneath there tents canopy in and they are sewing to pass the time humming and doesn't notice Astarion walk up after he was looking for them . ( they could be making something for him maybe for his 'birthday' after learning that it was that day ) .

omg sorry i took so long but my creativity juices flow in funny ways ahah.. to make it a little easier for me, since my tiny brain has been having a hard time in putting words down, i thought it would have been nice to tie this up with a oneshot i wrote a few weeks ago.. i wish i followed better your prompt- though i hope you'll like it.

Ofc reading the part before this won't change the experience, but it was nice to tie them together cause it gave a little continuity and idk anyways i hope you'll like it though it's mostly introspective and a lil angsty when astarion shows up..

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Masterlist.

Part 1. (the one shot i tied this to)

My prompt list for requests.

Taglist: @sessils @spacebarbarianweird (i forgot to add it yesterday cause im an idiot, but better late than never ahah)

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Golden.

Pairing: astarion x GN!tiefling!reader

Summary: the huge tear in his shirt caught your eye again, and you decided to give him a reminder that someone cared about him.

Genre: angsty?, lots of thinking, self-doubt, avoidance✨

You never noticed the tears carefully patched up on Astarion’s shirt until you were retrieving your dried clothes from the fire.

His button up sat up ripped on the stone like you left it on the night before, yet you still couldn’t help but focus on the smaller sewn tears already covering the fabric. It was such a precise job, that you wouldn’t have been able to tell that the fabric was ever broken until you looked closely and the places where the thread was tightly pulled became clearer.

You made a mental note of it as you walked back to your tent, holding up the bundle of yours and Astarion’s clothes.

The camp was lively that morning: yelling, singing, clattering of bottles and pans, along with rustling of the leaves had saturated the air, charging it with an electrifying energy.

In the middle of the chaos, your brain still stirred towards Astarion and the way you woke up curled up in his side, while he was meditating.

The tension that filled the tent the night before was gone. The only thing left from the night before was the ghost of his bite on your neck, and his body holding you to him.

When he broke his trance, he acted like nothing ever happened. Like you didn’t sleep twisted with him, or the way he drove you insane the night before.

You could still feel his lips on your neck as you collected your sewing kit from the tent, which still smelled like him, blood and bergamot.

As you spread the shirt on your lap, you could relive the events of the night before like a bard stuck on encore after encore.

You could feel the warmth of your bodies pressed to each other still spreading over your skin as you carefully prepared the essential to fix the tear.

You studied the tear that spread over the back, you knew it was going to be hard to make it seem flawless like the rest of them, but you wanted to attempt for him.

Worst case scenario, it was gonna stay broken anyways.

As you started to work on the tear, and you noticed how the uneven edges were not coming out nicely, an idea spurred in your mind.

At worst you were already planning on buying him a new one when you reached Baldur’s Gate. You had connections in the lower city, and you knew you could get a tailor to make the same button up if you brought a reference.

You worked on the shirt for what felt like hours, while everyone was enjoying their day, whether they took care of chores around camp or disappeared for walks, but as everyone came and left, the only one you had not seen was Astarion.

It was only when the sun was starting to set that you finally spotted him near his tent as he was looking for something in his bag.

You were just done with the shirt, and you couldn't help but hope he liked it.

You folded the shirt carefully along with the rest of his clothes, and as you were ready to head towards Astarion, he already stood in front of you.

His face was unreadable like he wanted to convey a specific emotion, but couldn't figure out how to. He was tense, his arms were frozen at his sides, so you decided to break the ice.

“I did this for you” You carefully showed him the pile of his neatly folded clothes, and his shirt on top.

“I wanted to fix your shirt, but the tear was too-” You started but before you could explain, Astarion had stopped you almost harshly.

“You didn't have to”He said briefly, it sounded mostly like an admonishment, yet you could have sworn there was some sort of softness to it.

“I know, but I wanted to”

“Why?” His furrowed brows were inquisitive, trying to gauge your intentions as he wetted his lips.

“Cause I care about you, I literally told you yesterday” The words slipped out of your lips just as quickly as your tail was swishing nervously.

He scoffed, folding his arms and turning his eyes away from you. “No one does things for free” You could tell there was something odd from him, as if he was trying to bury something under this indifference he was trying to put up now.

“Count this as a gift then” You jutted your chin towards him and invited him to take the clothes still in your arms.

He was taken aback by the simplicity with which you said those words, almost carelessly, and most of all to the person that deserved them the least, especially how hard he was being with you.

He wanted to quip back but you resumed your explanation before he could even think of a response and he wanted to hate it so much.

“As I was saying, I tried to fix the tear, but it didn't want to look nice, so I embroidered the shirt with a gold pattern” You explained as you pointed at the button up. Astarion was so focused on shielding himself that he didn’t even look at his clothes, she could have gave him one of her shirts for what he knew and he would have not realized it until he would be in his tent.

His eyes finally fell on the piece of clothing his mouth fell slightly open. He traced the golden thread carefully, as if it was a creation of his sick mind. “I hope it’s not too much.”You trailed off, your words were warm, almost sticking to his skin like glue. He wanted to shake them off himself, he wanted to yell that he didn’t deserve such attentions, that you were an idiot to do all of this for someone that had planned to use you, but it was like something in his body stopped him from screaming and lashing out at you, the only thing he could manage to do was the simple task he gave himself in the morning.

“I came here to thank you for last night, and for your kindness” He started with a honeyed voice. “But I suppose I have one more thing to add to the list” He clutched the bundle of clothes to his chest, tipping his head forward in thank you.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion angst #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #vault: lynn ☆#ask: lynn ☆#asklynn☆: request #request open

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 6 months ago

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The Meet-Cute, Chapter 5 - Sanji

Source for the pic

Word Count: 3667

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Minor swearing. This is is going to be a series featuring Ace, Sanji, Law, Zoro and Kid.

Special Warning: English is not my first language!

Summary: You had your life in Grand Line City all figured out. A wonderful job, a fiancé and a shared apartment. Until you found out he was cheating. Your father, Shanks, had a horse riding accident and you decided that this was just the right time to return home. You were expecting a peaceful, uneventful life back in the Calm Belt, but, fate had other plans.

|Chapter 4 - Law|

Sanji:

Your father avoided the subject of surgery for the rest of the day, and you decided to give him some time before approaching it again. You had shared your thoughts with him at the clinic, and you were certain he was reflecting on your words. If he was still too stubborn by the end of the week, you were prepared to use your ‘daddy’s girl’ privileges and maybe even shed some tears to guilt him into agreeing to the surgery.

In the meantime, both of you arrived home almost at dinner time and despite being totally exhausted, you told your father to eat the pasta you had cooked for lunch - and stored in the fridge - and for him to go straight to bed afterwards - he was still groggy from the pills - while you would feed the farm animals before closing up.

You had helped him yesterday with those chores, so you know where everything is and, even though he offers to call Ace to help you, you refuse. First because you want to show your father - and yourself - that you are capable of doing this on your own, and second because you are still mortified about his vibrator comment from before.

By the time you finish and finally close everything up, you are ready to drop into bed and sleep as if you’re in a coma. Except you can’t do that. Because you can almost hear Dr. Law’s voice in your ear telling you to eat something.

So you do. After blushing hard and slapping your face two times with both hands because imagining Dr. Law's voice in your ear purring ‘good girl’ managed, yet again, to do some unholy things to your body.

After you calm down, you heat up a plate of pasta and force it down with a full glass of water.

As your head hits the pillow, you realise you should’ve showered because you kind of smell, but you can’t find any strength to get up, so you don't. Even if you smell like horse.

You'll just change the sheets tomorrow.

-*-

The unforgiving crow of the rooster comes, without fail, at six in the morning and you groan into your pillow. Maybe you should buy some earplugs to help you in the mornings.

Yet you hear your father rustling and grunting while his bed creaks and you're up in a moment's notice, eyes wide and already rushing towards the door.

“Dad?” You call from your room, not wanting to barge in on his privacy. Who knows how he sleeps? Your ex liked to sleep naked and there were plenty of times the two of you took advantage of that fact. Shaking your head to rid yourself of those painful and angry memories, you call again. “Dad, are you alright? If you don't answer me, I will barge into your room!”

His bed creaks again as he makes another low grunt. “I'm up, bug. I'm alright. As soon as I take my pills, I'll be ready to face the day!”

You sigh in relief. “OK, daddy. I'm going to take a quick bath and then I'll make you breakfast, okay?”

“Yeah you better bathe.” His head peeks from the door of his room and he wrinkles his nose. “I can smell you from here.” He chuckles at the look of murder you give him and, as you can see he is well, you chuckle back, and go back inside the room to collect your essentials.

After you’ve bathed, you go down to find your dad already busy making breakfast. You give him a good scolding but it’s all in good spirits because the pancakes smell delicious and you are actually hungry today.

Shanks remains by your side until you clean the plate and he nods in satisfaction as you wash the dishes. You know he wants to make sure you eat, just in case you faint again!

“Do you need my help with the chores?”

“No, bug. Ace is coming over to help me today. You mentioned you were going to meet with your friends so I asked if he could come by.” You swallow a lump in your throat as you feel your cheeks heat up. Are you ready to face Ace again after that whole fiasco?

“So is it okay if I go to town now? I wanted to see if I could find a part-time job and start pitching in with expenses before I meet the girls.”

Shanks cleans his hand with a cloth and raises his brow your way. “Why would you need to do that?”

“Because I want to help dad. Besides, maybe you should think about hiring a permanent helper for the property. To ease some of your load.”

He huffs angrily. “I don't need a helper! I can still work!”

You close the tap with more force than necessary and place your hands on your hips, facing him. “Really? The two times per week you are able to walk? Or the other times when you're at the clinic?”

Shanks grunts and turns his back on you, grabbing his straw hat. “We'll talk later! Be careful in town.”

Gritting your teeth you follow him with your eyes. “Don't think you can get off so easily! We will talk about the surgery!”

Your father slams the door as you curse. That man is unbelievably stubborn!

-*-

After you finish cleaning up the kitchen, you go to your room and choose a pretty sundress to wear with your white sneakers. It's a very hot day outside and you don't want to feel stuffy in jeans.

Your dad is using the pickup so you take the keys to the beaten-up 90’s red Ford Mustang that your father bought for you at a yard sale but you never got to use. It's a stick shift again! But now you hope you're more used to it, after the crash course you had yesterday.

Shanks uses the car once in a while so it's in good condition, has gas and it's clean. It's good to go! After you adjust the seat and settings, of course.

You pass by your dad and Ace on the way out of the property and you stop to remind Shanks where you're going. Also because Ace is shirtless and sweaty again and you don't mind the mental picture to help you sleep better.

“I'm leaving daddy! I'll be back after lunch. Call if you need anything, will you?”

“I will, baby, if you give me your number.” Ace lets out a cheeky laugh before Shanks swats his head with his open palm.

“Stop flirting with my daughter.” He growls and then smiles sweetly at you. “Okay, bug. Be careful! Oh, sometimes the car doesn't want to start. You need to give it a while, talk to it softly and then try again.”

You look at him with an unreadable expression and he continues to smile waiting for your confirmation so you just nod weirdly, not knowing what he meant by talking softly to it. It's a freaking car.

“Okay, see you later dad! Ace.”

“Bye, princess! Don't buy batteries okay?”

You snort and show him the finger behind your dad's back. “It's electrical, dumbass.”

You leave the property with his sweet guffaws still ringing in your ears.

-*-

You go by the post office first because you know they place job advertisements there but your search comes out fruitless. There are advertisements for working at the local supermarket or as a farmhand. None of them are part-time, which you need because you want to keep helping your father, and you’d rather not go for the supermarket job just yet.

You don’t want to be that person, but you do have skills that you know will be wasted as a cashier. You keep that job in mind, though, if you don’t find anything else.

You do some window shopping and stroll around town, remembering all the shenanigans you used to pull when you were younger and smiling and chit chatting with the people who recognized you.

When it’s almost lunchtime, you get in touch with the girls and they give you the location to meet them, since they both work nearby the café - which also serves lunches - and will go there as soon as it’s lunch time.

It’s a quaint little café on a corner where a video rental store used to be. It has some metal tables outside with big parasols to create shade and protection, beautiful tablecloths, and a vase with fresh flowers on them.

You smile as you read the name of the café - The All Blue - and push the door open to access the cool inside.

It’s just as quaint and beautiful inside and you keep smiling at the simplicity and the familiar, homely feeling it transmits. Some tables already have patrons but, before you can find a table, a blonde man, tall and lean - but still muscular, you can tell - saunters to you with a big smile and a menu in his hand.

“Good morning, madame, table for one?” You smile at him. He’s very handsome, maybe he’s the cook your friends want you to meet? Yet you can’t help but shake the feeling that he is familiar, somehow.

“No, for three, actually. I’m meeting my friends. I’m not sure if they made a reservation. If so, it will be under Nami or Robin.”

His eye - just one because you can’t see the other one - lights up as his smile widens. “Sweet Nami and Robin? They didn't make a reservation, but I always keep a table for them at lunchtime. Follow me, please. Is it too bold to ask for your name? I’m their good friend as well, I’m Sanji.”

God, even the name is familiar… you stutter your name but your smile vanishes from your face. Once he shows you the table, you’re scrutinising his face intently, your heart beating faster and faster against your chest.

The signs are there. The name, the swirly eyebrow…

No, it can’t be. How can this happen? How could you find someone related to your fiancé, the man you wanted to escape from, in your hometown?

His smile vanishes once he realises the worried look upon your face. “Are you alright?” He says your name with worry and you shake your head rapidly.

“I’m sorry, you’re just… so familiar…”

He cocks his head to the side, the small grin returning to his features. “Really? Maybe we’ve met in another life and are destined to meet again?” Holding the chair for you to sit, he makes a flourish gesture that you realise is rehearsed and he must use it on every girl that crosses through that door.

Being a fuckboy must be in the genes.

“Are you a Vinsmoke?” The question leaves your lips without your permission. You didn’t mean to be so blunt, but you also didn’t mean to be reminded of your ex when you stepped into this café.

He freezes instantly, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide.

“How do you… how… why do you ask?” He tries to smile again but only a pained grimace takes place on his mouth.

“I used to work for Judge Vinsmoke at Germa 66 Enterprises, in Grand Line City.” You leave out the part that you were engaged to his eldest son.

Sanji pales and you see his knuckles turn white from gripping the back of the chair. “No. I’m not.”

You’re about to protest with a lot of follow-up questions, because he’s clearly lying, but you hear a shrill sound, and soon you are enveloped by two pairs of arms in a crushing hug.

“Girls!” You greet as your friends squish you between them and exclaim your name with glee.

“Oh, we’ve missed you so much! Talking over the phone is not the same thing!” Nami says as she releases you from the strong vice they both locked you in. “I see you’ve met Sanji!”

Sanji’s easy smile is plastered back on his lips, but you can still perceive some small stress lines on his forehead and eyes.

“Yes, Nami, I’ve had the wonderful pleasure of meeting her just now.” He sets the menu on the table as his smile strains again. “I’ll send Cosette to get your order in a while.” He turns to you and his eyes scrunch. “Nice to meet you.”

As the three of you sit at the table, Nami looks at you quizzically. “What happened? Sanji is usually all smiles and he loves a pretty lady, so what did you do to him?”

Robin chuckles at Nami’s statement and you shrug. “He just seemed familiar. I asked him if he was related to someone I knew and he reacted this way.” You’re certain he’s hiding something, but you do not press the subject with the girls. Maybe he has some sort of secret he doesn’t want to share? It might not be your place to pry. “Anyway, tell me how life is treating you, girls?”

Robin crosses her arms and Nami does the same while looking at you. “First let’s talk about why you’re here. I’m all in for bad-mouthing that stupid prick that broke your heart!”

Your smile travels easily to your face, this time. They know what happened because, even though you haven’t physically met them in about five years, since they visited you, you talk every week and consider them, still, your best friends.

So lunch passes quickly while you three catch up and make plans to meet again. You tell them about looking for a job and they promise to ask around and help. Sanji doesn’t go by your table anymore but you keep catching him stealing glances your way. Especially when the food arrives.

And the food is so delicious you’re practically moaning into your fork. Robin and Nami agree that Sanji cooks the best food they’ve ever tasted and that’s why they eat lunch there every day. When the meal comes to an end, Sanji finally approaches your table. The strained smile is no longer in place and he resembles the happy blonde man who greeted you at the door.

“How was lunch, ladies?”

“Wonderful!” You exclaim as the girls sing him more praises. “It’s amazing food, Chef Sanji.” You smile back at him, trying to wordlessly apologise for having been inconvenient.

“It’s on the house.”

“No, no.” You start, but Nami gets up with a wide smile.

“Thank you, Sanji!” Robin chuckles as she also gets up.

“Yes, thank you, Sanji! We have to get back to work.” She says your name and stares back at you. “Have fun, we’ll talk later.” And the raven-haired girl drags Nami away by the arm, sensing that you and Sanji could use a moment alone.

You wave them goodbye and, looking around you realise the café is emptying since the lunch rush is over.

“Sanji… can I borrow a moment of your time?” He nods and gathers the dessert plates from the table.

“Let me just clean the table. Do you want coffee?” The strained smile is back as he knows you’ll want to speak more about the Vinsmoke and Germa 66 business. As you nod and sit back down, he swiftly gathers the dirty dishes and leaves.

When he returns, he’s bringing two cups of coffee and sets them down as he sits across from you.

“I’m sorry if I was too abrupt earlier.” You start. “It’s just… well I’m not on the best terms with the Vinsmokes at the moment and… well I was not expecting to find someone who reminded me so much of them in my hometown.” Your sigh turns into a weary chuckle.

“It’s okay.” He looks down. “I actually lied and I’m sorry too.” You knew he was lying. “I’m a Vinsmoke, yes. A… distant relation.”

You nod softly, he must be telling the truth since you never saw him at family meetings. “I didn't tell you the whole truth, either…” You inhale deeply through your nose as a soft blush creeps onto your cheeks. Why is it so hard to admit you were cheated on?

Is it because it seems as if you’re not worth it? That there’s something wrong with you?

“I was engaged to the eldest son.” You whisper.

“Ichiji?” He sounds alarmed as his eyes bore into yours and you nod. Grunting he regains some of his composure. “Was? You’re not anymore?”

Shaking your head you take a sip of the coffee. How is it that he can make even black, plain coffee taste wonderful? “He cheated.”

“Figures.” He huffs and sips his own coffee. “I’m sorry.”

Your shoulders raise in a resigned shrug, and you smile softly. Silence settles for a moment around you as the last customer leaves and Sanji waves goodbye to the familiar face. “How is it that a wonderful chef like yourself ends up in this washed-up town in the middle of the Calm Belt? You could work at the hottest spots in Grand Line City!”

You smirk as you try to lighten up the conversation. Nami and Robin told you that Sanji had moved into town about four years ago and had quickly befriended everyone, since he was so lovable. You managed to pry out of them that he loved to flirt with girls and, since he was so handsome, you were sure that half of them ended up in his house, but neither of the girls shared that information with you.

“Ah, you see,” he smirks back at you. “Here I was on my way to become the world’s greatest chef, already having lined up competitions with the biggest names in the industry, the path of fame awaited me!”

You chuckle softly at his dramatics as he stops and looks at you with dreamy eyes. “And then I got distracted by the most beautiful woman in the world who walked right into my café.”

A faint blush creeps its way to your cheeks and you squint your eyes at him. “Does that line usually work for you?”

The prettiest of chuckles leaves his lips as he raises his hands in mock defence. “Not even once. It’s still half-true, though. The part about the most beautiful woman, at least.” He winks. “I came here exactly to get away from the big city. This place is paradise. And my café is a little slice of it.”

“And it is a wonderful slice. You’ve done a wonderful job with the place. Much improvement since the dingy video store. Unless…” You chuckle and lower your voice. “Is there a restricted section in the back as well? Adults only?”

You seem to take him by surprise as, this time, it’s his turn to blush and stutter. “Ah… no.” You press your lips together trying to hold back your chuckle. He looks so cute, all flustered. “I mean, maybe you can check out the back room yourself?”

He cringes as if he’s just said the stupidest thing ever and this time you laugh out loud.

“That was pathetic, I’m sorry. I’ve got no moves other than that other line. I don’t usually get past that point!” He chuckles back at you, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

The laughter continues to bubble up within you and you realise that everything seems to come so easily and naturally around Sanji. You haven’t felt this relaxed in months. “I appreciate the honesty, Sanji. It’s quite refreshing.”

“I can still impress you with my cooking skills, since my pickup lines are terrible.” He tries, leaning forward with a huge grin.

“Oh, I think you already covered that. Lunch was amazing.”

“Thank you, but I was thinking of something more personal… more intimate.” His fingers play with the coffee mug in a show of nerves. “You tell me what you like and I will cook you the meal of your life.”

The smiles vanish from both your faces as you also lean forward, hands on top of the table as well, close to his hands. “Confident much?”

“I am. I was on my way to become the world's greatest chef, remember?”

The blue in his eyes is nothing short of spectacular. You hadn’t noticed yet, but they almost sparkle.

“Alright. Let’s see how well you can back up that confidence. I will make a list of favourite ingredients and you work your magic.”

His lip trembles as it rises to a sheepish smile. “It’s a date. Just tell me when you’re free. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

A date? Wait… really? “It's dinner, not a date.” His smile falters and you shrug. “I’m off men at the moment, but I’m always open to making new friends.”

He nods in understanding. “I can’t argue with that. Friends it is.” You’re glad he’s maintaining his easy nature, even after you rejected his idea of a date.

You finish your coffee and rummage through your purse for some change but he stops your hand with his stronger one. “No way. I told you, it’s on me.”

“Just this once, okay?” You say as you get up and smooth your dress. “Oh!” You exclaim as you take out a pen from your purse but fail to find a paper, so you retrieve a paper napkin from the table and write down your number. “Here. We’ll stay in touch. Friend.”

You giggle and he smiles warmly at you while he accepts your number. “Madame, I will cherish your number and look forward to our next encounter.”

You exchange warm goodbyes and he walks you to the door, holding it open for you like a gentleman. Sanji was a nice surprise. Your friends were right. Even if the biggest surprise came in knowing he was related to your ex, you won’t let that get in the way of your friendship with him.

Or, who knows, maybe his cooking will impress you in a way his lame pick-up lines never could and the friendship turns into something more.

#one piece #one piece x reader #op #modern day au #sanji x reader #sanji x you #blackleg sanji x you #blackleg sanji x reader #blackleg sanji #sanji #modern day au one piece #Spotify

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gridzdoodle · 19 days ago

Text

hmm tf2 comic 7 got me feeling things here's a one shot

December 5, 1987

(2.7k wordcount also cross posted to ao3)

December 5, 1987: 5:30 am

On the dot, Spy found his body rousing to awakeness, at the same time and in the same way it had for an irrelevant number of years. He unceremoniously shoved off the thick blanket that he recalled Jeremy had bought on discount several years ago. A small lifetime ago, he might have yearned for the fine silken thing that he’d gifted his son at some point. Now, he was just warm.

There was that one constant, even as his life took him every which way. Up before the team (save for Jane, who was easy to avoid if he pleased). Up before the kids for a moment of peace (though anything was peace to him after it all). Up before Jeremy, to relieve the man (he really was on now, wasn’t he?) of some chores so he could rest just a little while longer. He really did need it nowadays, in his condition.

Before all though, Spy would be afforded a moment to himself.

December 5, 1987: 5:52 am

Currently clocking in at four weeks of continuous residence, Spy had found himself falling into routine. The air was cold and the sky was dark and the flame that lit his cigarette was warm and he was content. The Willis family would enjoy the cozy embrace of sunlight when it came, but this moment would remain his. In this moment, there was nothing to do, and wasn’t that beautiful? He could go about slowly, methodically, knowing that everything was going to turn out just fine.

The sky was lightening. Judging by every other morning he had spent staring at the same sky at the same time, Spy could guess that the sun would be peeking up from behind the neighboring house. As good a queue as any to duck back inside to start the day properly.

December 5, 1987: 6:30 am

The little ones would be getting up one by one, between now and 7:30. Jeremy might get up between 7:30 and 8:00 depending on how his body would decide to treat him that day. Yesterday he seemed more active, so the earlier end of the spectrum was more likely. That gave Spy around an hour of interrupted time to take care of things before Jeremy would be insisting that he could do it himself.

He would start off with breakfast. The kids were always starved first thing in the morning, natural of growing children. Something simple, generally applicable, and all around practical. He went to the cupboard and reached for the oats. Weaning the household off whatever prize-inside cereal their father had the habit of buying was certainly a task. But four weeks of consistent no-budging breakfasts had practically solved that problem, thank god. Now it was just a matter of who took their meal what way, which wasn’t rocket science.

By the time Spy had fetched the oats, milk, and almost brought the water to a full boil, he could hear the squeal of a little voice ricochet from the door, to the hallway, to his ears. That would be little Tammy, no doubt. He killed the heat and followed the sound.

December 5, 1987: 6:42

“Eeek!” Tammy squeaked, and Spy was only a little surprised to find her on top of the dresser thrice her height. To his left, he found the top bunk bed vacant with poor Tommy down below clenching a pillow over his ears to try and get a few more precious moments of shut-eye.

“Quel est le problème?”

A sniff, “Spider! ‘n my bed! Get it off!!”

Well, that was two accounted for, though he didn’t trust Jeremy’s construction skills enough to leave the girl up there for a moment more. In a few strides, Spy’s foot brushed the foot of the dresser, and he extended his arms to the top. When the girl’s squirming jostled it, he opted to plant his hands on either side to stabilize it.

“I’m afraid I will not be taking care of that until you get down from there. Please get down from there, by the way.” and he extended his arms once more. Tammy looked about anxiously, yet ultimately decided to make her way into his waiting arms. Though when Spy went to place her on the floor, he found her limbs wrapped so tightly around his torso that something in his spine might have rearranged itself.

Spy nearly shook her down.

“What if it’s on the floor?” she blubbered. Spy did a once-over.

“It is not.”

“Are- are you sure..?” Spy looked again.

“Oui. Very.” He crouched to the ground, giving Tammy little choice but to part with him. There was no struggle, reassurance a success. “Where did you say it was?” She made a gesture to her own bunk. It was not a very tall one, so he simply leaned over the top and found it completely vacant of creepy crawlies.

It is gone, he would have said, if he was not interrupted by the squeal of another little voice. A foot below, Tommy flailed his arm wildly, and a little something careened and collided with the bedframe. There was the offending spider, all gangly limbs and jerky movements while making a mad dash from the danger, a sight now unfamiliar to Spy. In a swift movement, he had its abdomen pinched between gloved fingers. It wriggled with all its might before he disposed of it in a tissue, and then the wastepaper basket by the door.

“I’m making breakfast. Be ready.” which was only a formality.

December 5, 1987: 6:55

Peace on earth existed for ten minutes each morning, when Spy quietly worked on breakfast while Tanya worked on her book as she waited. Idly, Tanya’s finger toyed with the edge of To Kill a Mockingbird . Parallel to her, Spy fussed between stirring the pot and preparing the mix-ins for each bowl.

A splash of milk in the bowl for Tommy and Tammy, plus a glass for each while he had the jug out. Tammy absolutely refused any large chunks of fruit, so he mashed the handful of blueberries with the back of a fork. For Tommy and himself, he left them whole.

A spoonful of strawberry jam would later turn Todd’s bowl of oatmeal pink, and he knew that would be enough for him. He stirred, it was cooked by now, and filled a couple glasses with water. Heat killed, Spy reached for a little ceramic dish, and then for the highest shelf in the cupboard.

Jeremy’s bowl received a small splash of milk and the faintest drizzle of honey. On the side, a glass of water and a little dish of AM pills. The heart, pain, and renal medication met the bowl with a satisfying clink.

Now that left one bowl.

“Is there anything you’d like?”

“ I’d like to see pa at the table in the morning again, maybe with a side of Tam-Tom being quiet for once?” Spy sighed. Her frustration had only multiplied as the weeks passed, and it seemed she could only catch her father for minutes a day when he wasn’t asleep or when she wasn’t at school. “But I could settle for a nice tall glass o’ make my English teacher stop making us do so much stuff .”

Junior high and an increasingly absent father had been tough on Tanya, but Spy knew she was tougher. The least he could do was make himself an unapologetic ally, listen to her woes whenever she came to him. It had taken them this far, through years of babysitting and now indefinite residence, and he had no intention of stopping now.

“Let me see about that one. Hmm.” Spy made a show of looking through the refrigerator, then the pantry, then the cupboard. “Ahh, I’m afraid I used the last of the ‘quiet kids’ mix last night. As for the ‘lighten the workload juice’, I believe– oh, did you hear that?” Spy noted, in perfect flatness while Tanya was failing to suppress her amusement. In a couple strides, he made it to the door and opened it.

“Now let us see this,” Spy murmured, leafing through the newspaper, serious facade unwavering as he read the headlines aloud. “Unimportant, weather, unimportant again, oh, how interesting…” he peeked up from the page, pleased to see Tanya fully invested in his bit. “This news story, ‘Local English instructor, assassinated!’ No leads, no fingerprints,” he peeled his gloves off and set them down next to the paper, “all classes to be postponed indefinitely!” At this time, Tanya’s book was flat on the table as an unfettered laugh streamed from her lips. Victory.

Spy glanced back down for a quick moment, “Ah, but breakfast is not. What would you like to have, genuine requests only please, unless you’d like to take some plain oats.” After the girl’s laughter had trailed off, she considered, and piped up: “Cinnamon! And brown sugar in it too!” Now that was doable. He was happy to add a dash of cinnamon and a conservative spoonful of sugar to her immediate chagrin.

“What, that’s nuthin’! You could’nt’a added a little more?” She pouted. “Non, I’m not in the habit of serving sweets in the morning.” which earned him a melodramatic slump from her. He sighed. Spy was becoming weak in his old age. “And I will remain firm in my decision. Oh. What is this. It looks like the oatmeal is ready to plate. I will now turn around, and since this matter is so urgent, I will leave the spoon in the sugar.” Which wasn’t entirely a joke.

December 5, 1987: 7:13

“Can we go watch cartoons?”

“Yes-”

“Can we go now?”

“Have you finished your breakfast?”

“No-”

“Non.”

“But you said-”

“I would have said yes, when you finish eating.”

“Why?”

“You could tip your bowl on the couch, and I won’t clean it up.”

Todd conceded, and switched tactics to shoveling as many oats as he could eat at once. On the other side of the table, Tommy was falling asleep into his bowl while Tammy went on about nothing entirely discernible. Tanya, thank god, was taking care of the cleanup. Spy had already cleared his ingredients, so there were only the dishes to attend to. First the cooking pot, followed in quick succession by the first two bowls. She had to scrape bits of residual mush from Tommy’s bowl, but Todd and Tammy had practically cleaned theirs for her.

And then.

“Pa’s stuff’s gonna be cold…” Tanya muttered, looking at the last dish. Spy cautioned a glance behind him, the kid in a clear struggle of indecision. He came to meet her, true to her words his fingers met a bowl barely above body temperature. Hmm. “I guess I will just have to bring it right away.”

He got to go, at which point Tanya wasted no time taking the glass of water and dish of medicine. “I got it, don’t worry!” She said, as though she needed an excuse. Spy let it happen. They made their way down the hallway, which he couldn’t help observing each time he walked down it. Dozens of frames lined the walls, little snapshots of their lives slowly connecting. There were most of the kids by far, and the stark contrast between the pigtailed toddler to the young woman before him might have given him whiplash so bad he would have dropped the water if he was the one holding it.

He was forever grateful that Jeremy had taken so many pictures of all of the children, it filled in the seven year gap, and when he looked at them it was like he hadn’t missed a moment. Of course, pictures couldn’t compare with memories, but it was another thing entirely when they coincided. Todd’s smile of pride as he correctly guessed 1,782 jellybeans was just as infectious as that day.

Naturally there were plenty of pictures of Jermey, granted, less pale.

They made it to his door, and Spy turned the knob with his free hand. The bedroom was spacious, and the bed was too large for one. There were even more pictures, of Jeremy himself, of his mother, of him, of his friends, of his children most of all. A picture of Jeremy from his mercenary days was accompanied by a clock which read 7:22, and a tear-away calendar which read December 4, 1987. The practical decor clashed with the seven Tom Jones posters, but whatever made him happy, Spy told himself.

Right now though, he was laid on his side tangled up in some sheets. It seemed that he didn’t hear the door open.

“Jeremy?” “Pa?”

Spy set down the bowl on the nightstand, and Tanya mirrored his movement. He would have to be woken up, it seemed. She looked near ready to do it herself, but it had been too many times that Spy had to remind her to be gentle. He would have to do it himself.

Spy sat on the vacant side of the bed, the one that might have been occupied by a spouse if that sort of love decided to stay with him. “Jeremy,” he repeated, to no response. In perfect carefulness, he connected his hand with the once sticking out of the bedding, perhaps the tactile input would rouse him like several mornings before.

A backstabbed Sniper on his shoulder. The gibs of teammates fallen to an enemy Demo. Gray Mann. Years of mercenary work. Jeremy fourteen years ago, still moving, that slowed in his arms. A coldness and a stiffness that could never be mistaken was found in his son’s hand.

A tiny squeak behind him. Tanya, clever and perceptive Tanya. Why did she have to come?

“Is he okay..?” and the wavering of her little voice near made Spy lose composure entirely.

“I believe he has a fever.” he decided, and pressed a palm to his frigid face. “Merci, Tanya, but I would not want you to become ill as well.”

“What about you?”

“Please, you had better worry about your siblings instead. Make sure they have not destroyed the living room. Leave your father to me, yes?” Tanya, in her childish trust, only looked once over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

December 5, 1987: 7:51

“My friend, you must remember that Herr Mundy’s case was a very special one–I had begun work almost immediately, a near infinite budget, all necessary parts on hand, a fully stocked infirmary–even if I flew out this very minute I doubt I could replicate my results.”

“I understand.”

“Do you really?”

“I understand.”

“I am very sorry.”

“I understand.”

The telephone slotted neatly back in place. The room was cold. The bowl was cold. The bed was cold, except for the part Spy was sitting. The blanket cast aside when he searched for any sign of life certainly was not doing Jeremy any favors. That would never do.

With the fabric draped over him, he could pretend. Pretend that he was the grandfather when Tommy and Tammy played house. Pretend that he hadn’t seen the effects of gravity pooling blood to the parts of Jeremy’s body that rested against the mattress.

A mad giggle and excited squeal from across the hall. What was the game of choice this week again?

“Boom!” Todd shouted. Right. This week they were outlaws in the southwest, two against two.

“Wait, what town isn’t big enough for both of us?” Tommy scratched his head. He always preferred a more thorough worldbuilding in his pretend play.

“How about…” Todd fiddled with his toy sword, “Teufort New Mexico! Y’know, like the place on papa’s mail!” At that point, he charged right for his brother, who jumped a foot in the air.

That day, Spy recalled, Jeremy was busy in the kitchen fixing himself another cup of coffee, but was quick to join in the fun.

Spy had lingered alone in the room long enough, he decided. The little ones would soon look for a new playmate, and perhaps he could distract them from the fact that he was the only one who could.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 fanfiction #fanfic #written work #tf2 7th comic #tf2 spoilers #tf2 the days have worn away #tf2 comics #sorry for potentially bad oatmeal representation #my preferred breakfast porridge is chao ga #i'm experiencing emotions and need 5-7 buisness days to recover #beta reader? I hardly know her!#hopefully this is passable I have been odd af for the last few days #tf2 medic

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a-darkworld-fool · 8 months ago

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[random thought] ● yandere haru sagara

I feel like haru will definitely guilt trip you into helping out jabberwock much more often. Since he frequently tries to persuade ren with that tactic, but with you he's much more...

haru may do it unconsciously after doing it so many times too.

he may even do it through messages and you will be at jabberwock in no time. it's that easy.

it is very sweet though, how you worry about the animals in his care.

your help lightens haru's workload, but what's important is that you're where he wants you to be.

when you have classes, haru may pass peekaboo to you, saying that it saves him a lot of time for other chores.

(if anyone asks why you're bringing along an animal that should be in jabberwock's hands, you explain that you're the inspector. you're allowed to do it. it's your job, helping the ghouls.)

by the third time you decide to babysit peekaboo, you choose to pickup the baby yourself, since it's much more convenient that way, and haru will gratefully give you the baby sling and the things needed to care for peekaboo.

you like peekaboo but you can't help but ask why haru lets you bring peekaboo when peekaboo doesn't trust strangers easily.

peekaboo almost bit off kaito's fingers yesterday!

haru just reminds you about the fox incident--which you still felt guilty over it--it takes time because they're basically wild animals.

which you accept because it sounds reasonable, right?

no. it's how haru makes sure no one gets too friendly with you of course. peekaboo's such a good boy!

(also, a side note from haru, please avoid going to sinostra since it's a harm to the baby's safety. maybe it's better to just avoid anything sinostra altogether. surely, you don't want anything happen to peekaboo?)

weeks pass by and one day, when you are about to pickup the baby, haru informs you that you don't need to babysit today.

you're relieved that you don't have to carry the extra weight, but a small part of you is somewhat disappointed.

when you're sitting in class you would unconsciously lift up your hand to pet the soft fur of peekaboo but found nothing on your lap.

you miss the cute little boos peekaboo makes when you talk to it.

somehow your lap feels strangely empty and cold.

it seems... you've gotten attached to the baby.

#tokyo debunker #haru sagara #jabberwock #yandere tokyo debunker #yandere haru sagara #yandere jabberwock #foolie tries writing #foolie's random thoughts #mc's parenting arc: my senior's son thinks i'm his mother!

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jellyclogs · 1 year ago

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hi, brooke here! <3

could i request ace helping the reader, who is having a migraine? I'm currently struggling with one myself and that would be much comfort!

feel free to be as creative as you'd like 🐝✨

not gonna lie I didn't see this ask till yesterday sorry about not replying sooner. and as some one who deals with chronic migraines, I'm sorry you've been going through it. I hope they have been getting better and I hope you enjoy the story.

Word count 1.3k

trigger warnings: Migraine, cussing, mentions of panic attacks

A Migraine

I could feel it since this morning. Just a dull ache in the back of my head. I knew it was only a matter of time before a migraine decided to strike me. I managed to get through my normal daily chores before my vision began to blur. The only reason id been able to complete my chores was because it was all muscle memory. If id had to put any real thought into it I'd be more than a little lost. I couldn't focus on anything and my thoughts were flowing like syrup through frozen pipes.

I stepped away from the laundry and closed my eyes. Yeah even with the excessive amounts of ibuprofen and acetaminophen I had taken I needed to go lay down. I turned to Banshee, she had been the only other female on the spades with me. After Pops just kinda claimed Ace as one of his we followed Ace to the whitebeard pirates. “I'm sorry to leave you when we still have work to do but if I don't go lay down I think my brain might selfdistrict.”

Banshee turned to me, “Sweetheart it's not a problem. You've looked like shit all morning I was wondering when you'd tap out.” she smiled at me. “But didn't think asking why you look like a walking corpse would help nun.” we’d been crew members for years, she knew my struggles with migraines. “Plus it's not like this is a hangover and you did it to yourself,” she added.

“Yeah nope, definitely not a hangover, and by god I feel like one.” I gave her a pathetic smile, “But still, I owe you one.” I turned to walk to the door my hand on the wall as I walked. My head was spinning. Though I knew could handle a little tumble I didn't see the need to worry the crew.

“Don't worry about it. And do you want me to walk you back to your dorm? How steady are you on your feet?” she asked in a motherly tone.

“I'll be fine But thanks Banshee.” I waved her by as I left the room. I didn't need to take her away from the work that was left.

I picked my way threw the ship trying to avoid the louder parts. Sadly my room was right next to the mess hall, no matter what time it was the mess hall was always packed full and loud enough to make the floor boards of the ship shake. I winced knowing I'd have to walk past the mess hall's doors to get to my room. The noise would be loud enough to take my balance completely away and my vision would be fucked. I braced myself for a moment, checking one last time if the way was clear before, closing my eyes, and rushing to pass the doors.

I slammed straight into someone. Someone who was much steadier on their feet. Before I was sent to the floor a set of hands grabbed my shoulders and stopped me from falling. “You ok?” Ace called over the noise of the mess hall. His grip on my shoulders was firm but not harsh.

My hands came to cling onto his arms. The noise was overwhelming, like I'd thought My balance was gone and my vision went with it. I couldn't quite manage to speak so I just shook my head no. I wasn't hurt but I definitely wasn't ok.

Ace pulled me over to my room’s door. Helping me inside, “Is this a panic attack or a migraine?” he asked in a soft calming voice barely above a whisper. I couldn't help but smile at the question. Seeing as my head was a box of fucked up, and either were possible (plus both could take my speech away) it was a reasonable question.

I took a moment to take a deep breath and take in the quiet of my room, “Migraine.” I croaked out. With the blare of the mess hall gone some of my brain power was coming back.

“Have you taken anything for it?” he asked sounding slightly relieved. I don't blame him. Migraines were easier to deal with than panic attacks. He helped me over to my bed helping me sit down.

“More than Marco would be happy with,” I joked, giving him a smile hoping it would calm him down slightly. I could feel the way his heart was racing well he was holding me. Ace was good at keeping a calm face when he was panicked, but his heart always gave him away. With his tough exterior, it might surprise people how much of a softy he is when it comes to his crew. He feels helpless and panicky when the people he cares about are hurt.

“Ok since I'm not a doctor I won't scold you for that,” he sighed but I could hear the smile in his voice. He was calming down now that he knew what was wrong and how to help, “how about water?” he asked walking over to my curtains and drawing them close.

“I could use a glass.” I shifted from sitting on my bed to lying down. If it were anyone else I might have just said I was fine, but with Ace I couldn't. With ace, I knew he’d feel better if he was helping.

“Well then ill be back.” he paused at the doorway looking over his shoulder, “Have you eaten?” he asked.

“Yes I have,” I answered my voice muffled, I had a pillow over my face to block out more light. Not that I was looking but I could feel the questioning look he was giving me, “I had breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and orange juice… not lying, promises.” I grumbled.

“Just checking.” he chuckled, and then I heard the door open and close. A few moments later I heard the door open again. Then there were footsteps crossing my room and someone sitting down on the edge of my bed. “You gonna sit up or just spill water all over yourself?” Ace asked in a slightly teasing tone.

“Sit up,” I mumbled sitting up and leaning my head against one of his shoulders.

“Good.” he brought a cup of water to my lips. He let me grab hold of the water cup before letting go. If I was feeling less shitty I might have enjoyed how close he was to me. He waited for me to finish drinking the water before asking, “You want heat or ice on the back of your neck?”

“Heat.” some heat on the back of my neck would definitely help. It would soothe my shoulders and hopefully convince my brain to calm down some. I wondered if he'd grabbed both an ice pack and a hot water bottle.

“You got it sunshine,” I could hear mischief in his voice but I wasn't sure why. Ace wasn't the type to mess with someone if they weren’t in good shape. Before I could ask what he had up his sleeve he was lying down in my bed with me, his arm my new pillow.

For a moment I just froze then I decided, fuck it. I shifted slightly to get comfortable. I was about to bitch that his arm wasn't going to be hot enough when I realized it was. “Guess this is one way to use your devil fruit.” I hummed.

“You want me to get you something else?” he asked in a soft hum. I could feel the hum reverberate in his chest, it was a pleasant sensation.

“Think you can stay here for a while?” I asked almost meekly. If I was being honest with myself it felt really nice to be cuddled up to Ace.

“Yeah I can stay here as long as you need me to,” he replied snuggling into me a little bit.

“Then no I don't want something else,” I closed my eyes, ready for a nap.

“You got it,” Ace answered letting me fall asleep on his arm.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #x reader #x y/n #comfort #one piece fanfiction #x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x you #portgas d. ace x Y/n #ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x you #migraine #migraine comfort

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redivia · 11 months ago

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'You'll get sick' Ghost x Reader

Summary: Simon took pride in his outstanding immune system. But it has failed him this time.

Authors note: Heyy, this is some sort of continuation of my previous work but can be read as a stand-alone. This has been sitting in my notes app for quite some time and I never really got around to finishing it, but I finally did it! Also on Ao3. Enjoy! <3

Lying in bed next to him you could see his slow and deep breaths making his chest rise and fall and consequently moving the blanket in the same rhythm. Simon’s presence in your bed always improved your sleep, and you like to think it’s vice versa. After having to basically drag Simon to bed yesterday, you weren't too surprised that he was still asleep. He truly must have been exhausted.

Outside the safety of your bedroom, the rain hasn’t stopped yet from what you could tell. Slowly but surely the rain droplets were making their way down your bedroom window, and you knew they would eventually find their way back to earth. Where they would nourish plants and animals alike.

Some people don’t like the rain, but you never understood why. Even if the rain may seem dark and gloomy to some, it only gets us to appreciate the sunny days even more. After all, there would always be sunshine after the rain.

You wouldn’t let a beautiful rainy day like this one, go to waste by decomposing in bed all day. One downside of being a grown-up is that there are always chores waiting to be done and no one else was going to do them for you. So, begrudgingly, you tried making your way out of the bed as quietly as you could manage. Cringing at any small creak and groan the bed made because of the changes in weight distribution as you pushed yourself up. Planting both of your feet on the cold floor didn’t aid in motivating you for your day but there was no backing up now. Your steps were still causing small creaks of the floor as much as you tried to avoid them. Moving forward your feet made quiet pitter patter sounds against the hard wood floor. Small noises were coming from Simon but nothing that would suggest he was awoken by you sneaking out of the bedroom.

Pride swelled in your chest that you had managed to avoid disturbing his sleep for the most part. You figured you might as well start going through your daily routine, maybe then you would feel a bit more alive. First things first, you visited the bathroom to freshen up a bit and maybe try and breathe a bit of life back into your sleepy face. After finishing up in the bathroom you moved to the kitchen. Mentally you could already picture exactly what breakfast you were in the mood for. You were acutely aware of the fact that you recently bought fresh fruits and now the time has come for them to be the main act of your first meal of the day. Together with some yoghurt they would fill that hole in your stomach that has been evidently created by the however many hours of rest you managed to get and has now been pestering you ever since you got up. Opening the fridge, you looked for that yoghurt you had purchased a little while ago-

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off when a sneeze that came from just across the room made you jump. Only after turning around, to try and identify where this sneeze suddenly could have come from, did you notice Simon standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He had always been able to be more silent than you were, always sneaking up on you, but this time it seemed like his body was set on betraying him.

But to be perfectly honest he looked a bit worse for wear. He was slouching slightly, doing very little to actually make him any smaller, he was still towering over everything as per usual. His face was undeniably flushed, and something told you it probably wasn’t because you were the first thing he was seeing this morning. He had eyebags under his eyes that made him look like he pulled an all-nighter rather than sleeping well over eight hours. Your favourite feature of his face, his eyes, were slightly red and half lidded, not used to the light difference from the rest of the house compared to the brightly lit kitchen. With his slightly down turned expression he quietly rasped out a scratchy “g’ mornin’” followed by a few sniffles. He looked as pitiful as a more than six-foot tall, scary looking, military man could look. Poor Simon must have come down with some sort of bug.

To be fair you had heard that the flu was making its rounds and that it has been spreading like crazy, especially during this time of the year. Combined with all of the hard physical exercises and trainings they were to complete in the freezing cold, was it only a matter of time before Simon would inevitably get sick.

You liked to think he only walked into the kitchen because he missed your warmth in bed. Your theory was only fortified when he slowly slouched over to you and slid his fingers under your shirt to rest his cold hands on your back. He was mumbling something about how warm you were, when in reality he was the one that felt like he was burning up. You bounced into action and started directing him backwards in the direction of the couch where he fell asleep on the previous day. After transporting him safely to the couch you told him stay put while you would get him some blankets. You returned to the living room with your favourite blankets in arms. You draped them all around Simon and tucked the edges under him to make sure he would be as snug as a bug in a rug. Satisfied with your work you moved back into the kitchen.

There you grabbed the kettle and watched as it slowly got filled underneath the stream of water pouring out of your faucet. You asked Simon in a slightly raised voice which kind of tea he would prefer. Hardly hearing his reply, due to his scratchy voice, you prepared his tea with an extra heaping amount of honey to maybe soothe his raw and raspy sounding throat. You grabbed his mug, the one you had gifted him a few months ago.

He didn’t admit it back then, but he really liked the present, so much so that you saw him using this specific mug any chance he got. That might be the reason why there was already a chip missing along the rim of the mug. The nearly constant usage and maybe some occasional rougher handling ended in a small piece breaking off. But he obviously cared too little about such small imperfections to throw it out. After all, it still served its purpose flawlessly, and you are sure he still loves it as much as before the chunk broke off.

You set down the mug on the small side table next to the couch where he could easily reach it. Before returning the kitchen to hopefully finish making breakfast, you gently placed the back of your hand on his forehead to try and gauge his temperature. He might have a bit of a fever but to accurately determine how bad it really was you would need to get the thermometer to check. Making a mental note to go looking for the small device later, you whipped up the quick breakfast you abandoned earlier. In the other room you heard him scrambling for the box of tissues. Poor Simon really caught a bad case of the flu, but you already know you wouldn’t hear him openly complaining, not when you were the one taking care of him.

You made a quick bowl of granola with some yoghurt and most importantly some fresh fruits. Simon would need every vitamin he could get to help his body in battling his sickness and hopefully avoid getting ill as easily. You brought both bowls to the living room and sat down on the couch close to Simon and handed him his respective breakfast. Bowl in hand you watched as Simon poked around in his yoghurt but didnt really eat much of it. You knew Simon was really sick when he didn't even finish his bowl of breakfast. Once you finished eating, you sat both dishes down on the coffee table, to be dealt with later. Firstly, you needed to ensure that Simon at least got some pain killers into his system to maybe get him to fall asleep again and hopefully heal up while sleeping.

You dragged Simon onto his feet and together you slowly trudged back into the bedroom. He instantly cozied into the warm sheets, and you brought him a glass of water alongside some pain killers. Simon popped the pills into his mouth and chased them with a few sips of water. You asked him if there was anything else you could get for him to maybe make him feel better. Simon listed the box of tissues and his mug of tea, both of which were still left on the side table back in the living room. You gathered both and returned to Simons side in the blink of an eye.

When you stepped back into the bedroom Simon was staring at you with a dreamy smile on his face and a slightly dazed but all in all content look in his eyes. You sat back down at his side and heard him mutter his thanks. You once again repeated if there was anything else you could do for him. Simon only hummed in thought before he replied, “a kiss on the cheek?” with a cheeky smile plastered on his face. You slightly chuckled at his antics and gave him his kiss on the lips instead. “You’ll get sick” he argued after you pulled away. You only shrugged and as you got up told him playfully how much superior your immune system was.

As with most things Simon was right about this one too and shortly after Simon was starting to feel better, you were the one laying in bed feeling miserable. Now he was the one having to take care of you.

#ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #cod x reader #cod mw2

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITA for not cleaning up my room?

This sounds kind of bad but stay with me. I (X16) had a headache at around 10pm yesterday, so I thought I'd go to sleep and finish cleaning my room (after diy-ing my jeans a bit) tomorrow. It's also important to mention the next day was a working day and I'd be alone at home and I always work best when I'm alone.

It's weird, but I always get extremely anxious about doing any chores or work around the house, if I know there's someone here. I always try to get my stuff done when my parents are at work to avoid any judgement from them to be honest.

When my mom walked into my room and said how messy it is, I said that my head is hurting really bad right now and I'm going to bed. She didn't like that - she screamed at me, said I'm being unserious and I have to clean it up right now. I asked, "Please can I do it tomorrow? Tomorrow morning, I really want to go to sleep" but she refused. So I told her how I dislike doing anything when there are people home and called me a toddler and took off her slipper to gesture she'll hit me if I don't.

And, I know that I am really childish with this but, I still cried when she started shouting at me. I didn't mean to piss her off, and I was genuine when I said I didn't feel well... Still, I think like I might have done something wrong and I should've just... not complain and just do the cleaning up without whining about it

Chat, AITA?

PS. apologies for any grammar errors. english is not my first language

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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obamousse · 9 months ago

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Osamu is the mighty boss of Onigiri Miya, resourceful, confident, efficient, a leader who takes no shit from horrible customers and will face unexpected problems head on. But sometimes, running a restaurant is so stressful. He was having a bad day, plagued by stress and pressure of servicing customers, keeping track of products and finances and employees on time. Even on his mind, he wonders and calculates and thinks how his business can be more successful and how to avoid losses. The next day, he broke down upon discovering he forgot to wash his laundry.

He woke up early, before Suna. As usual, before making breakfast, he would check his chores and the state of the house. Not that he didn't complete them the day before-

A basket of 2-weeks worth of dirty laundry, which he had promised himself to deal with yesterday.

God, was he so stuck up with dealing with restaurant problems? How could he forget such an important chore? Now how would he have clothes in store to wear? He already woke up hung-over with light sleep, and his forgetfulness of yesterday might just kill him.

He doesn't cry, he swear. Atsumu only saw him cry when they were kids. Osamu would shrug it off and move on, solving the problem as quick as possible before having a quick lunch and open Onigiri Miya on time.

And it feels so difficult. Waking up at 5, driving one hour to the city center, and opening the shop at 6, then go home at 11 to his husband at 12. His employees wonder how the boss could keep up such a scary lifestyle, and right now, Osamu wonders it too.

Meanwhile, Suna found himself lacking Osamu's warmth in the bed, and got up to find him. It was no surprise Osamu would wake up early and leave Suna completely in deep sleep. But he'd always kiss him before going to work silently.

Suna went outside, to see Osamu sitting and staring at the laundry. Chests heaving. Osamu was distressed. As he got closer to Osamu, he realized the man was crying silent tears. He wouldn't look up at Suna, but Suna knew.

But Suna was terrified too. For the first time Suna could recount, Osamu cried. He had never noticed him crying before, even though Osamu often asks him for comfort when he's down. Suna had doesn't know how to comfort someone when crying, and he's afraid he might hurt Osamu. But he has to do something, because he cannot let him cry like that.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I have to get ready for work."

"No. Really what's wrong? If it's about the laundry then I can do it for you. No need to beat yourself over that."

Suna shook his shoulders. Voice full of confidence. Not what he often does to comfort Osamu. Even holding Osamu's hands in his to maximize the effect.

"Fine. It's stress. Running the restaurant's hard, you know?"

"Then take a day off. Relax. I don't want you to cry again. Go to sleep, and you'll feel better after that."

"Promise?" Osamu looked up at him in teary and weary eyes.

Suna wasn't sure what he said was true, but he has to go through it. He wants to believe in it too.

"Promise."

"Thanks Rin, but I gotta go to work. They need me."

Suna guess he couldn't keep Osamu with him for too long before he'd be back at the restaurant, his work, his passion.

"But come back early, yeah. I want you to have a good night sleep." He said, dejectedly. He thought Osamu could stay with him and relax and take a day off work.

"Promise." Osamu wiped his tears, simply smiled and kissed Suna on the forehead as usual before leaving work. Now that's the familiar kiss before he goes to work. Suna went back to bed and tried to continue his sleep.

Osamu cries few tears, and for a few times. But he knows how to bounce back and carry on, with the right support. And one day, when the business gets better, he could allocate more time to his home and Sunarin.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #suna rintarou #miya osamu #sunaosa #established relationship #they live in the same house #idk what I'm even writing #I'm so sleepy rn #got this idea from twitter even though twitter does it better than me #so credits to luxrayfics I guess #mini fanfic #I guess

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thisuserislilsilly · 2 months ago

Text

Summary: A veteran marine of a thousand wars enjoys a tender moment with a Neophyte

Genre: Cute...idk how else to describe it

Pairing: Veteran Ember Nomad (adoptive-family) x Neophyte (adoptive family)

TW: Foul language, heavy doses of wholesomeness

Word count: 2397 words

Goblin tag squad (lemme know if you wanna get tagged too): @finchly-tintinnabulation @cardinalcanis

Ao3 version

Pupil and Tutor

Jubik was humming a song while taking care of breakfast, Kubayen was away at the moment probably hunting or doing something outside of the Nomads campament; not that it worried him too much since he was confident that whatever he was doing it would be done to perfection, and to reward him for all those tedious jobs the scouts needed to do the old Nomad thought in surprising his protégé with a delicious Homeworld cooking recipe to cheer him up for the long campaign ahead.

For Jubik, Kubayen had been officially induced in the ranks of the 10th Company seemingly yesterday, for the young Nomad however it had been four long years. In that time he had gotten much closer to the Marine that had saved his life back on the trials, it started at first as a way of thanking the old Nomad for his care and a tool for learning “the ropes” of his new position as a scout, but sooner rather than later the relationship had taken a much more “adoptive family” type of connection, Jubik found himself impossible to disconnect from that boy like he had done with other Neophytes before and after him; the veteran tried to come up with different excuses every time he was questioned about it: “I need someone to take my place as Captain of the 10th when I am gone”, “He owes me his life, I owe him how to best utilize his life for the Chapter”, “He reminds me of myself when I was a scout, maybe I want to relive old glories through him”, the list always seemed to grow and the answers changed depending on who asked him and what rank did the Marine had.

Kubayen arrived at the house just when Jubik was picking up some crates he had found in the entrenched position they were holding and using it as plates to serve the food; while doing this task he wasn't particularly looking at the scout coming in; just smiling happily.

"Well may the stars shine upon you Kubayen! How has your morning been doing so far?" Jubik spoke giggling and making sure everything was warm and ready to be eaten

"You could say it went fine old fool, hunting it seems is not so hard once I know the proper ways of doing it" The Neophte left his weapon leaned against a wall before sitting on the ground with his legs crossed

"Ah, and who you need to thank for those teachings?" Jubik teased raising an eyebrow

"My own learning skills" Kubayen laughed a bit while smirking "Alright and with a bit of your help"

"Hey finally you are admitting it! Are you the same little chick I met insulting me and the Chapter?"

“Aw shut your old tongue you big softie! Are you the same sensitive Nomad I met then?" Kubayen stretched his hand to gently slap his tutor in the face “I told you to not call me that!”

"Alright alright! Just stay right there and let me..." The old man avoided by mere centimeters the slap and offered the scout his food "There you go, and one for...me" he finally sat down in the floor mimicking the position of his student.

Both of them enjoyed a small but delicious food, talking about the day and the tasks ahead, Jubik tries to skip some of the chores that corresponded to a scout such as Kubayen thinking of giving the young Nomad some time to go explore or help with other duties on the base while the old Ember Nomad could go on to do the daily reconnaissance to the enemy lines.

When all was said and done both stood up at the same time from the ground, going to their personal belongings and suiting up, it was then that Jubik noticed something a bit odd about how Kubayen moved his right arm.

"Hey, you okay there?" The old marine tried to not be so direct

"Hmm? Oh yeah I'm fine, what’s up?" Kubayen kept dressing up from the waist down

"Nothing, just that you are moving a little strange if I may say" Jubik raised an eyebrow

"Strange? How? What are you talking about?" The scout turned his head in the opposite direction

"It seemed that your right arm is in a bit of pain, if my old eyes are not failing me" He stopped doing whatever he was doing and walked towards the youngling right side

"No, no, no, no no pain in here, just...tired from yesterday battle I guess" He immediately hid the upper part of his arm with a pauldron while suspiciously smiling

"Yeah, sure, then let me see how nothing is wrong" Jubik extended his arm

"Fuck no!...I mean, no because we have a lot to do today and we are wasting time" Kubayen got defensive

"It can wait, now let me see it" The old Nomad wasn't backing away like the other hoped for

"Jubik, I'm serious let's just fucking finish dressing up and-" The scout walked backwards with his upper body half dressed

"Little bird...your arm, let me see it" It was so odd for Kubayen to see Jubik getting serious

There was an uncomfortable silence between them for a couple of seconds, the young Nomad clearly not wanting to show the scratches on his arm and Jubik insistence in checking on him. None of them were used to backing up and give in so easily; the memories of the lessons about a marine prohibition of forming deep relationships with other battle-brothers came to his mind and he didn't want Jubik to be so involve with him for then in the future if anything happened between the two he would look back and blame himself for forming bonds with someone on the Chapter.

Jubik in the other hand just wanted to be with his “boy”, at first it was just a way of having someone else to talk to and not being alone, but throughout the years he realized how much the scout needed him as he needed Kubayen at his side; he felt the young boy was under his protection for as long as he was with the 10th, and so Jubik didn't want anything bad happening to Kubayen while he could watch over the boy.

"Son of Guyuk...let me see your arm" Jubik looked at the Neophyte directly to his eyes, not angry, not mad, but worried of what could had happened, worried if he was okay

It only had been a few days since Kubayen had told him about his ancestors, since then Jubik never said it before that precise moment. The old Nomad wasn't messing around this time, he was being genuinely worried and serious about seeing his arm. Brief flashes of Kubayen past went through his mind when his tutor said that name, memories of his time with his “real” family. He wasn't tearing up, but those words made him very sentimental all of the sudden.

"Fine...but it was nothing, I just don't want you to see it" His voice cracked for a brief second when he spoke that last word, then with a hint of shyness he allowed Jubik to see his wound

"Don't worry, I just want to check" The tutor saw the scars and tried to not panic, to not let his first reaction be to rush for the apothecaries in the other room and instruct them to heal his little chick. The Neophyte wouldn't allow him to do that

"I'm...thank you for not overreacting to this" Kubayen looked at anything else, it didn’t matter if he was staring at a bolter or some ammo box, he just didn’t want to see his mentor eyes

"There's a few bandages in the other room" Jubik pointed out "If you want to patch that up...I'll be outside" And without saying one more word he left his pupil side

The old Nomad sighed, scratching his eyes like he always did when there was something troubling his mind; of course Kubayen didn't want to have any other relationship with him more than just being his student and get enough experience to keep moving up in the ranks of the Chapter, but Jubik just couldn't hold back that instinct he had for taking care of the newcomers, getting to know what they like, dislike, what they were good at...his open and friendly approach didn't work as well as he thought but he would never achieve that seriousness and cold heart of many other veteran battle-brothers. But yet, he understood that he didn't have to push Kubayen too much in these cases.

What he did instead was asking for permission to use the armory with one more participant, then he went to search for his old but reliable plasma pistol and wait for his partner to go outside. He didn't have to wait too much for a now bandaged and more cheerful Kubayen to appear

"What is this?" He asked lifting an eyebrow

"Consider it my apologies for pushing you to tell me about the injury" Jubik said, with the gun in his left hand

"Actually I-" The Neophyte started to speak

"You don't have to say anything, I get it, the warnings about forming bonds with others exist for a reason...is just the way I am made me look like I wanted to force you to tell me every single thing that you go through...and for that I am sorry" He looked down, ashamed

"I...alright I accept it only if you let me win this competition you have arranged here" Kubayen said looking at the target practice objectives set up across the room

"Oh...so you do wanna challenge me huh?" Jubik giggled and gave him the gun

"Three shots each, whoever loses...uh" Kubayen thought what could be a good punishment

"Whoever loses has to answer two questions from the winner, and with the truth" Jubik said getting ahead of his student’s thoughts

"Fair enough, but the questions need to not be too personal" She stared at Jonah for a moment “And don’t fucking make it creepy old fool-“

"Promise, now start shooting already"

Kubayen smiled and took a deep breath, focusing all of his attention on the targets; he had a pretty good aim for never having that type of gun in his hands and he hit two of the three targets. Proudly he returned the plasma pistol back to Jubik and stepped aside.

"You know I was the second-best aspirant in the trial of accuracy right? Yeah, I am a bit bad when it comes to moving living targets, but I'm the master when it comes to shooting these little shits" Kubayen said proudly while watching Jubik take aim

"You are taking to a veteran, my boy. While you were too busy being born and not shit your pants, I was killing Xenos across the galaxy" Jubik giggled, having more fun in listening to the Neophyte than the challenge itself

"If it costs you too much to aim I can always ask a Tech-marine to implant you with bionics, you know!" He taunted his tutor, laughing and tapping the veteran’s right shoulder

"You...mind?" Jubik felt his protégé bumping into him every time he looked down the scope

"I'm just having a little bit of fun, I want to know your secrets after all"

"Hey that is cheating!" Jubik shot the first target accurately

"No it isn't!" Kubayen pushed Jubik around, laughing loudly

"Hey stop it! You are going to make me miss the next shot!" Jubik couldn't even speak properly over the sound of his own laughter

"That's the idea, genius!" He was having fun in messing with his tutor

Jubik aim got terrible in the second shot, missing the target completely, not even doing a scratch or dent in it.

"You made me miss!" Jubik coughed from the laughter, stopping to spit in the ground before trying to calm himself down

“Yes!!! If you lose the next one, I have to know all about you!" The scout was excited, with his eyes having this overwhelming sense of happiness

"Ah shakrak...!" Jubik cursed out loud when he intentionally missed the third target; knowing that his student wouldn't stop asking questions now

"And the winner is...Kubayen! The best shot in the entire Company!" Kubayen spin around in circles, lifting a fist in victory

"Don't get too high on your own win!" Jubik leaned against a nearby wall, smiling and shaking his head

“Are you ready to reveal all your tiny little dirty secrets? Please save the stories about war and conflict and all those boring fucking stories, I wanna know the juicy parts of your life" The Neophyte loudly bumped against Jubik

"Yeah, yeah, just ask quickly that we do not have all day"

"Oh NOW we don't have all day! But when we were having breakfast, we did have all the time of the fucking world! You are such a bad loser Jubik, for the love of the Emperor!" The young scout giggled

"Ahem, the questions" Jubik crossed his arms and rolled his eyes annoyed

"Alright, alright, alright! Don't rush me!" Kubayen waved his hands, thousands of questions filled his mind as he mentally chose the best ones and reserved the rest for later,

Kubayen interrogation ranged from the old Nomad childhood to how did he ended up as a captain of the 10th. Although Jubik tried to evade some personal questions such as what happened to his tribe, biological family and his involvement in the Indomitus Crusade, there was almost nothing of his life that escaped the questions of a intrigued Kubayen. He was slowly letting his guard down, understanding more and more about the tutor he had been fighting with shoulder to shoulder; maybe he could trust in form bonds after all, give Jubik just a tiny taste of his trust and see how did the ol Nomad handled it.

The scout never realized until he was a veteran as well, long after all of those tender moments had gone away, that the feeling he had when Jubik lost was one of genuine happiness, genuine trust in him. And when he did understood this that memory became more and more precious in his heart; the knowledge that his tutor had purposedly missed those targets to make his protégé forget for an instant the war around them both.

#fanfiction #custom warhammer chapter #warhammer fanfic #warhammer headcanon #ember nomads #warhammer 40000 #oc space marines #warhammer 40k #fanfic writing #wh40k oc

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