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satanghulu · 2 months ago

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lucky strike!

satan x f!reader series

✦ SUMMARY: Your luck has always been terrible, you knew that. But getting dumped a month before your wedding was not on your bingo card for the year. It seemed like you only had the shittest luck meeting the worst kind of men until you went on Craigslist. Hm? A cat-loving blond man was willing to accept your listing? ✦ WARNING: Modern AU, fake dating, reader works in the corporate world (not specified), fluff, unresolved emotional tension, mentions of cheating (reader's ex), reader and satan are noted to be in their late 20s, drunk texting ✦ WC: 7.8K

| PART ONE | PART TWO | MASTERLIST

══════════════════

Luck is a mysterious and unexplainable phenomenon. Unfortunately, the God of Luck has never cared enough to shine down on you. Your unluckiness manifested in all sorts of ways; from birds pooping on you to delayed flights. It was a recurring theme in your life. But seriously? Getting cheated on by your ex, a month before your wedding is a new low, even for you.

You slumped over the table, hair tangled as you rubbed at your eyes. The murmured voices in the background blend together as you refuse to lift your head from where you are currently face down on the table.

“Hey… are you sure you’re alright?” A gentle hand touches your shoulder and you resist the urge to flinch and snarl at the voice to go away so that you could drown yourself in your sorrows – maybe in the sink in the washroom, which was becoming much more tempting by the minute.

Regrettably, you remember that you had called over reinforcements from when your stupid, shitty, rotten, pathetic ex had flaked on you through text so that you don’t try to do something stupid.

And now, you had company, but all you wanted to do was maybe throw yourself off a building so that you wouldn’t wake up in humiliation the next morning. Seriously, you still can’t believe that this manchild had the audacity to break up with you over text, and he even flaunted his new partner hours later on social media.

…He had never posted you on his account, citing that he didn't see the purpose of it. You scoffed, laughing at yourself for your stupidity in believing him. It wasn’t that, you just weren’t important enough for him to want to do it.

You could feel your eyes start to get wet and you vehemently tried to force those tears to go back into your tear duct. You were not going to waste a single tear on a man, especially on one as despicable as him.

In his defense, you couldn’t say that you didn’t see this coming. He’s been acting much more distant lately, unwilling to even hug you when he leaves the house to go to work. Your sex life had also been at an all-time low. You remember just a couple weeks back when you had dolled up in the cutest set of lingerie you had owned and waited for him but you ended up sleeping on the couch when he didn’t make it back throughout the night.

You had just convinced yourself that the stress of the wedding planning got to him and didn’t bother investigating further. But honestly, you weren’t an idiot. You could smell the unfamiliar reek of perfume practically wafting off him whenever he returned from “work”. But you played it off, thinking that you were being an anxious freak.

…At least he had the foresight to break up with you on a Friday night instead of a weekday. You would hate to drag yourself to work in this state.

You groaned again, finally lifting your face from the table when you were sure that you weren’t going to burst into tears. However, as you met the worried glances on your friends’ faces, a sob unilaterally ended up escaping from your throat.

Before you knew it, you were crumbling and breaking down with tears streaming from your eyes. God, now you were being pathetic.

After bawling your eyes out and evaporating whatever sort of water you had left in your body, you were finally ready to pick yourself up and move on. You told your friends as much albeit with your eyes blotched with tear stains and a warbled voice.

“Er babe, not to rain on your parade but what about the photoshoot?” Your friend cautiously asked, hands raised for protection as if afraid that you would throw a bottle at her. Though, that thought did run through your brain for a split second. Your lips parted with surprise as a jolt ran through you. You don’t answer your friend right away as you pause to search through your jumbled memories.

Fuck, she was right. Your scumbag of an ex had wanted to cheap out on the wedding costs and had persuaded you to opt for a more reasonably priced package but it came with conditions – no refunds and no cancellation. This meant that he had fucked you up again.

You could feel the waterworks and stress bubbling up inside of you, as you buried your face into the palms of your hand. The next time you see your stupid whore of an ex again, you swear you were going to fuck him upside down.

After a much-needed sleep, you finally gathered up your courage to call the wedding planner that well, you wouldn’t be needing their services anymore. She had been sympathetic in her response but had immediately still tried to sell you another package – as if you hadn’t just been broken up with or were even ready to dip your toes into the dating pool. You should be angry but it was hard to muster up any emotions when you just felt empty.

It was unfortunate that all of the bookings had been made under your name else, you would have just let that pathetic bastard cancel all of the appointments. You were not looking forward to the next call. In a fit of nervousness, you stood up to pace around the room.

All you had left was the final boss. You swallow thickly as you shakily bring up the contact profile of your photographer. The first time you had met him, he had chewed you out about every single thing possible from your fashion sense to the way you talk. You swear that for some reason, this guy had a vengeance out for you.

For once, you hoped that your photographer could find the compassion buried deep down inside his rotten heart to be nice to you.

“What do you want?” The all-so-familiar satiric voice bleeds through the line and your grip on your phone turns tighter, as if it was trying to escape.

You winced.

It seemed like you had caught him in a bad mood.

“Hi Mephisto, just wanted to ask how you are doing?” In a fake voice, your first course of action was to butter him up.

“How many times have I told you that my name is Mephistopheles? We are not close enough for you to call me by that.”

If words could hurt, you were sure that you would be scalded and burnt by the sheer force of his acidic tone. Somehow, today his words held even more venom than usual.

“Damn okay. What got your panties in a twist today, Mephistopheles? I was just checking in on you,” You tried again, keeping your tone light while you hurriedly punched down the urge to reach out across the virtual world to wrap your hands around his neck.

“Quit it. What do you want? You must be calling for something. I’ve already told you that there are no refunds or cancellations, so if it’s about that, you can go ahead and hang up now.” With that, you could see your imaginary money waving pitifully across the river bank.

With a tight smile, you briefly contemplated the choices laid out for you. Maybe you should just take a bath with your toaster plugged in tonight? Sleeping on the train track is shaping up to sound like a great idea as well.

“Well, no. I just wanted to know if it’s possible to push back the date for the photoshoot?” With an airy laugh, you gritted out your words.

Your petty self would not let your stupid ex have the last laugh, you were going to make sure to live your life happily and take those damn wedding photos.

A few seconds passed before you heard a condescending laugh on the other side of the line. “Did you get dumped?” For some reason, Mephistopheles always had a sixth sense regarding the state of your relationship. The last time you had gotten into a tiff with your ex before a consultation, Mephistopheles had chortled right in your face and told the pathetic bastard to buckle up.

Your silence must have answered his question because you could hear an even louder cackle through the phone to the point where you were sure he must be tearing up or choking on his saliva. Unfortunately, there went all chances of saving any sort of money or dignity.

With a click, you promptly hung up the call. There was no point dealing with him when he was in this state. You chucked your phone on the sofa, letting out a huge groan as it bounced off and hit the floor. Thankfully, the screen didn’t shatter else, it might have been your tipping point.

As you collapsed on the couch, praying for your demise to come, a ding caught your attention. Turning your attention to where your phone had landed, a message flashed brightly across the screen.

[11:05AM] pretentious bitch: I’ll allow you to postpone and change the concept of the photoshoot. Let me know if you find a person who is willing to take pictures with you.

[11:06AM] pretentious bitch: I’ll only wait for two months. Any longer and I will cancel the booking. No refunds.

You went through different variations of mildly concerning threats before settling on an amicable phrase that you could send to him without the police knocking on your door.

[11:06AM] You: thanks. ill lyk soon.

And with that message sent, you swiftly threw your phone (safely this time). You watch it slide, unharmed to the other side of the couch. With a deep breath, you stood up ready to conquer the day. You were not going to let yourself mope around in the house.

“Yukiii,” You pleaded with a hopeful gaze, hands clasped tightly around hers. “Help meee, I don’t know anyone who can do a photoshoot with me,” With as much pitifulness as you could muster, you flashed her the saddest look you could.

Your friend sends you a tight-lipped smile as she purses her lip with furrowed eyebrows. “I would love to but I don’t think I know anyone available for a photo shoot,” With that answer, you immediately slammed your head down on the table with a loud thud – causing the waiter who had been walking over with your order to retrace his steps.

“Urgh…. Why does life hate me,” You mumbled indistinctively from your position even as Yuki pinched the skin on the back of your hand in an attempt to get you to be more socially aware of your surroundings. With a loud sigh, she pried open your entwined hands and twisted the side of your ear hard.

With a loud cry of pain, you finally sat properly in your seat with a sulk. After getting your attention, she cleared her throat while folding her hands primly on the table. “I think you can try your luck on Craigslist. Try listing for a photo shoot partner online, people might just contact you.”

“Why didn’t I think of that? You’re the best, thank you!” You almost want to launch yourself across the table to kiss her for her wit and barely held back. Yuki fixes you with a threatening stare and thus you settle yourself deeper into your seat with a chastised pout.

After all your bravado earlier, you were at an impasse. How on earth do you write a listing without it reeking of desperation? You brooded over a cup of tea, that was now lukewarm due to your fickleness, as you scowled at the screen of your laptop, unable to type another word.

Looking for a partner to shoot an HK-style photoshoot with! Free of charge and I can provide you with free entertainment and pictures of cats. I will provide more details once you message me! Also attached is a photo of me so that you know that I’m not a scammer.

You stared at the words blankly, before emphatically deciding, to hell with it, and posted it.

You wake up in the middle of the night, throat parched and the light on your phone blinking obnoxiously in the darkness. Who on earth is blowing up your phone -- you checked the time on the screen, eyes half-closed -- at 4 in the fucking morning?

After grabbing a cup of water and planting yourself in front of your screen. You looked in dismay at the hundreds of notifications that flooded your inbox and instantly regretted putting a picture of yourself up on the listing. The amount of unwanted pictures you got was abysmal and you hurriedly deleted all emails with attachments. As you were about to delete the last email in the thread, you accidentally misclicked and the page popped up.

[12:25AM]

[email protected]: Dear Miss, could you please provide more information about the photoshoot? I am interested to hear more and if all goes well, I have some terms of my own to provide too. You can contact me at the number attached: XXX XXX XXX

Thank you and I wish for your timely response.

Yours sincerely,

Satan

What was up with this guy? You squinted at your phone screen, rubbing your eyes to get a better look. You marveled at how awkward and formal he managed to sound over an email for a listing that you took at most five minutes to write.

But he was your best bet considering the rest of your emails are filled with unwanted appendages that you certainly weren’t in the mood to look at. And at least, you were confident that he wasn’t going to send you unsolicited messages for now. Regardless, a new contact profile was created, and you threw yourself back in bed while mulling over a message to craft.

[05:15AM] You: hi, thanks for reaching out! i got ur number off the email u sent to me abt the craigslist thing. can i ask what conditions u have? ill also send the mood board here. dw i also hv the outfit prepared tho u may need to alter it if it doesnt fit u or u can also get ur own fit.

[05:20AM] You: Attachment sent - 1 File

[05:21AM] You: oh sorry abt the late msg, i didnt notice the time haha

In your efforts to keep yourself awake for a little while longer, you thought that it would be a good idea to scroll through articles on stranger danger. Quickly, the memory of your plastered picture on the internet haunts you and from the articles, it appeared that you had already failed the first step in keeping yourself safe.

With a grimace on your face, you quickly took down the listing on the website and prayed that whoever this Satan guy was, he would come through so you wouldn’t need to put yourself back up on the Internet.

Birds chirped distantly in the background as you groggily reached for your phone. It seemed that sleep had claimed you while you were surfing the net for cute animal videos. Somehow, you had woken up much more tired than you had been when you went back to sleep.

With one arm raised to shield your eyes from the sunlight peeking through the blinds, you checked your notifications and almost dropped your phone in your state of sleep.

[08:10AM] Satan: Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you. I have run through the mood board and it seems good. Also, no worries about the outfit. I will be able to provide one. For my condition, I would prefer that we meet up in person to discuss it. Would that be alright with you? Do let me know what time would work best for you.

You almost puked in your mouth. Would it be wrong to say that he seems a lot more suspicious now? Also, what was up with his concept? You barely resist the urge to throw your phone across the room and inhaled a much-needed breath of fresh air and instantly choked on it -- screw it, what was wrong with this guy?

Suddenly, you very much regret placing your personal information up on the internet for the whole world to see. The articles on stranger danger flitted through your brain and you grimaced at the thought of the possibility of being trafficked.

You have watched enough true crime podcasts to know that this was sufficient for sirens to be blaring and your guard to be up. In your head, an imaginary true crime commentator deduced that he could either be trying to get into your pants or perhaps, searching for his next victim. With your hackles up, you quietly tried to swipe away from his profile when you noticed something.

With a peer at the saved contact profile, you realised that Satan must have saved your number seeing as there were now multiple display photos for you to scroll through.

You gaped at what you saw.

A pretty blonde man with a cat. He was cute, in that classic pretty boy style that was unfortunately exactly your type. With an excited hum, you scroll through the stranger’s photos. It was a visual treat. Your eyes trailed over the sharp angles of his face before belatedly noticing that he had on a pair of glasses. You might just about faint.

After catching a glance at yourself in the mirror, you swiftly straightened up and frowned. You were not going to go against your morals and fawn over a random stranger you had met over the Internet. For all you knew, he could be catfishing you.

(He wasn’t. You had reverse image-searched his photo on the net so that you could further stalk look him up but you couldn’t find much additional information on him.)

[10:12AM] You: sure! we can meet at this location tomorrow at 1pm?

[10:12AM] You: Location sent

Admittedly, it didn’t take you much time to, well, go against your morals but you didn’t have any other choices to fall back at the moment. Either way, it was only a meeting in a public place so if the situation went awry, you would still be relatively safe.

Plus… it would be a shame to not see that handsome face in person at least once.

It’s about fifteen minutes from your scheduled meet-up with this stranger at the cafe you selected. Oddly enough, you haven’t started to feel the nerves set in which was uncharacteristic of you, considering the old you would have already been in the washroom trying to drown yourself in the sink.

But you do feel terribly out of place sitting alone. Wherever your sight falls on, there was always a couple being lovey-dovey and almost distastefully happy, rubbing salt in your wound. Thankfully, before you can start burning holes into your cup, a low voice abruptly cuts through your thoughts to call out your name.

“Hello. Are you the one who made the Craigslist post?”

Alarmed, you quickly raise your gaze from the table to meet bright green eyes. Silently, you brought a hand to your nose to check if your nose has started bleeding. The photos you had seen earlier did not do this angel man any justice. You could almost see a halo of light behind his head.

Satan was much more handsome in person.

“Did I get the wrong person?”

You could see the man’s eyebrow furrow as he glanced at his phone before examining at your face. You were too caught up in staring at him to realise that you had forgotten to give a reply. Hurriedly, you scrambled to tug on his sweater as he turned to leave.

“Oh sorry. Yes. That’s me.” Your voice came out stilted, as your back aligned as straight as a ruler. Thankfully, it seemed that Satan was too busy looking around the interior of the cafe to notice your mini-mental breakdown.

“Satan right? It’s good to meet you,” Without forgetting your manners, you offered a hand. Satan regarded your outreached palm with a passive expression before accepting it courteously. A few seconds passed as your eyes took in the view before you appreciatively.

An awkward cough cut your daydreaming short.

“Could you please let go of my hand now?” Satan said politely.

You mumbled an apology, shuffling back in your seat with a red face resembling a tomato. Belatedly, you hadn’t noticed that you were still grasping onto his hand, tightly. How did you already make an embarrassment of yourself on the very first meeting?

“Right. We’re here to talk about the conditions, correct?” You started, leaning back into your seat to get into a more comfortable position. Satan pulls out the chair opposite you and sets his briefcase on the floor. At a glance, you notice the various luxury brand logos on his person; taking a double look at the sweater which was easily more than what you make in a month.

Satan nodded, leaning down to rummage through his briefcase before pulling out a stack of paper to place on the table. You dumbly stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers.

You reckon that if your jaw wasn’t already unhinged during your leering session earlier, it would have made a comically loud sound.

“A contract?” You said lost, rubbing the back of your neck when he slid the document over for you to read. Maybe, he really was a serial killer and he was about to make you sign your life away in an unfair contract.

COMMERCIAL CONTRACT

THIS AGREEMENT is made and entered into this XXX…

You barely get through the first sentence before the peculiarity of the situation dawns on you. Somewhere, in the depths of your subconscious, a metaphorical Yuki was screaming right in your ears, “What the hell is wrong with you?!” while shaking you by the shoulders. Alas, she wasn’t here so you opened your mouth instead.

“What is the contract for?” You inquired hesitantly, scanning through the pile of paper, and wondered whether it was possible to rewind time.

Satan looks up from his phone, (when had he even taken out his device?), before replying matter-of-factedly, “An exchange for services. You require my help for the photoshoot and I require your attendance for a schedule. This arrangement works out perfectly for us, I would say.”

That was certainly an unconventional way of thinking. You were impressed by his …uniqueness. You were almost moved by his little spiel to sign the contract.

You blinked. “Do we really require a contract? I can just help, you know? I mean, you’re doing me a service by helping out with the shoot.”

Satan turns to face you again, evidently bored. “Do you need time to read through the contract? We can do the signing at a later date.”

What a jerk. He just ignored your question.

“Could you please tell me more about your conditions first?” You tried again, keeping your voice even with fists clenched under the table.

He looked at you, with an edge of displeasure in the set of his mouth. “I may need your attendance for an event where you will need to act as my romantic partner.”

“That doesn’t tell me much-- Wait-- Are you asking me to pretend to date you?” You spluttered, thrown off by the derail in the conversation.

He went quiet, wearing the most uncomfortable expression you have seen so far.

“No. Just your attendance for an event to give off the impression that we are in romantic relations.” Satan said sharply, as you nodded along to his words.

“Uh. Right. So fake dating.” You were still befuddled by his sudden proposition, leaning closer. “So, what does this entail? And what event is this for?”

“Everything is in the contract. Please refer to it instead of asking me.” Satan looks pointedly at the stack of paper arranged in front of you.

You let out a weary exhale. In the five minutes that you have known this man, he has proven himself time and time again to be a douche. You didn’t want to argue with someone that you had just met but it was vexing trying to communicate with him who was refusing to cooperate while you tried to pry information from the clutches of his grip. Before you could stop yourself, you pushed the documents to the other side of the table.

“Satan. I’m not going to sign the contract. It’s fairly unreasonable to spring this onto someone who you just met for the first time. Just let me know what are your conditions so we can discuss further.”

For the first time since you met him, Satan stares at you as if he is searching for something within you. You paused for a second, fumbling for words that didn’t sound remotely stupid before adding, “There must be an issue. Are you afraid about something?”

You must have hit the jackpot as Satan remained silent, leaving your question hanging in the air.

“Is a contract really necessary?” You pressed.

You watched as Satan seemed to battle his inner thoughts, face scrunching up adorably. “I will… retract the contract as you wish. You’re right. I was hasty in presuming a contract was needed. I apologise for my mistake.”

The quick apology on his part was a pleasant surprise. You never had anyone admit their mistake so quickly before and he didn’t even try to shift the blame to you! You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back before letting out an amused chuckle.

You waved a hand, dismissing his apology. “Thank you. Anyways, if you want to go forward with this fake dating thing, won’t we need to know each other better too?” Satan stares at you strangely as you blow gently on your iced coffee.

There’s a pause.

“Correct. I was hoping that we could correspond on a cover story and I would also like to get the chance to know you better as well.” You nod along in agreement this time sensing that this would turn out to be a long talk.

It was only after the meeting that you realised Satan never answered your question.

You scratched your head as you turned around looking for the egg that you had set down on the counter as you reflected on the meeting today. Honestly, the meeting went better than you had expected. Both of you had left the cafe pretty late. Thankfully, Satan turned out to be much nicer and a better conversational partner than you had guessed from his first impression.

After locating your egg on the table, you proceeded to whisk your mixture together when a loud bzzt caught your attention from where your phone was lying on the counter. Holding the mixing bowl under one arm, you took a cursory glance at the screen.

[07:32PM] Satan: Hello, this is a refresher on the meeting we had earlier. I have compiled the notes in the PDF below. Please take a look and let me know if I have missed out on anything.

[07:32PM] Satan: Attachment Sent - 1 File

…This guy was so uptight. Does he have a stick up his ass?

Continuing to stir the batter, you squint at the message again. Had all of the joy in his life been sucked out? You decide to take it upon yourself to educate him about having some fun.

[07:35PM] You: looks great! also, i think u need to relax :< if anyone sees ur phone, they wld think that im ur business partner instead of ur gf lol

Satan is typing…

You waited by your phone for a minute, leaning against the kitchen island. When no reply comes, you decided to start buttering up your frying pan to get started.

[07:40PM] Satan: Right, sorry. I’ll try my best.

The message flashes on the screen, and you let out a small chuckle. It was rather endearing to see him take such a long time to type such a short message.

[07:40PM] You: shld we hv nicknames for each other? or nah, ik some couples dont do petnames

[07:41PM] Satan: Yeah, nicknames will make it more believable. Are you alright with honey?

[07:42PM] You: works with me. what do i call u? tantan??

[07:43PM] Satan: I’m 29. Please do not call me that.

[07:49PM] You: bringing ur age into this? okay old man. ill js call u babe then. also brb let me cook

[07:50PM] Satan: Go ahead. Also, isn’t this a case of a kettle calling the pot black?

You let out a scandalised gasp even as you bite back a laugh over the loud sizzling from your pan. Your kitchen timer beeps distantly in the background, signaling you to check on the stew bubbling in the back.

[08:30PM] You: never tell a lady shes old!!! thats the first rule in How to Woo A Lady 101 (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

[09:10PM] Satan: Alright then, my apologies to the lady.

[09:10PM] Satan: Also, I’ll be heading to bed soon. Sleep well.

[09:15PM] You: ???? its 9??

[09:16PM] You: r u fr?? ure actually sleeping already??

[09:16PM] You: n u deny the claim that ure old…….. ok pops, lets get u to bed.

[09:17PM] You: goodnight ig. and also thks for helping out w the shoot! i rlly appreciate it.

Your messages were indeed left on delivered till the morning.

The commute to work was tough even though you do this every week. The lights in the building were grating and you were already sweating, having to squeeze into this tiny elevator with everyone else. God, it wasn’t like your company was lacking in money. Why couldn’t they upgrade the damn elevator? After elbowing someone in the chest, you finally made your way out of the elevator to your desk.

“Good morning!” A voice called out as you placed your bag on the table. The cheery voice was too loud in the early morning and you turned around to snap at the person. It was Simeon, holding a mug of coffee in his hand. The retort immediately dies on your tongue.

“Morning.” You greeted back, miserably.

Simeon just laughs at you before handing you a packet of coffee from his pocket. “Take it. I brought this for you to chase away the Monday blues.”

“Simeon, this is why you’re my favourite.” Eagerly, you grabbed the sachet and stared at the label for a second. “That’s the brand I always get! Seriously, you’re the best.”

If it wasn’t for the fact that you were at work, you would have jumped to hug him. Simeon reaches past you to grab your mug and raises an eyebrow.

“Pantry?” He questions.

You follow Simeon to the pantry, making small talk along the way. He places your cup in front of the coffee machine, motioning for you to take over the process. As you work on making your coffee, he leans back on the fridge to study your expression.

“Are you okay?”

The sound of the coffee machine whirring to life thrums in the silence enveloping the both of you. “My wedding is off.” You finally admit when Simeon continues to wait as he inches closer, practically crowding you against the wall.

“He called it off.” You diligently kept your gaze on the appliance, not wanting to risk seeing pity in Simeon’s expression. You had thought that you had done a good job keeping yourself together but Simeon had seen through your facade at one glance.

Simeon opens his mouth to reply but the tell-tale sound of footsteps grows louder and sure enough, the pantry suddenly swarms with black-suited employees. He pins you with an expression that screams “We’ll talk more about this later”. Finally, the soft ping of the coffee machine announces the completion of your drink. Quickly, you swoop up your mug and brush past Simeon to head back to your table.

“See you at lunch!” He calls out from behind you.

That’s fair. Although Simeon works in another department, he has always been your closest friend in this forsaken company. The difference in departments had rather helped both of you blossom a camaraderie and you would like to presume that he thinks of you as a dear friend as well.

It doesn’t mean that you still want to talk about that though.

Finally, you slink back to your desk before anyone else can stop you.

The clock read half past eleven. You stand up from your desk to head for lunch – earlier than your usual break at twelve but it was a necessary sacrifice to avoid seeing Simeon. However, as you round the corner to the elevator, you spot Simeon coming out from his office.

Urgently, you dashed into the lift and smashed the ‘close’ button. Please, please, please. The doors were closing at a snail’s pace and you could see the delayed realisation on Simeon’s face as he dashed over. However, you were faster than him.

“Thank you.”

Or so you thought.

Unfortunately, a passing colleague had noticed the situation and held the door open for Simeon who thanked him with a smile. You quickly wipe off the dismay on your face, “Oh Simeon! I didn’t think you take your lunch this early haha…”

He only looks at you in disapproval.

The lift door closed gently behind him as a silence filled the air. “I’m sorry.” You say, head down. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.”

Simeon only sighs.

“You could have told me. We could just grab lunch and not talk about it, you know.” Thoroughly reprimanded, you kept your head down, suddenly finding his loafers very interesting.

Your knee-jerk reaction was to accept his suggestion and disregard this entire conversation. But you know that it wouldn’t do you any good, especially in the long run. Simeon only had your best interests at heart and it's a clear fact that he cares about you. Yet, you still feel dread at the idea of opening up and talking about Feelings™.

But you have to try, at least to reciprocate his efforts. Taking in a deep breath, you started. “I saw this coming--“

The lift lets out a cheerful ding, cutting you off as it arrives at the lobby. For a moment, both of you don’t move but as people start trickling in, you grab Simeon by the arm to drag him out.

Inside the restaurant that Simeon picked out, you bemoaned and bitched about your ex and the tumultuous entirety of your relationship. At some point, Simeon had even ordered more sides and drinks as you continued ranting.

“I’m just upset that I wasn’t the one who broke it off.” You end, somewhat petulantly. It’s the same mantra you repeated to yourself the past weekend; deluding yourself that it was the only reason why you were upset.

Simeon just looks at you with a somewhat tired glance before adding, “He was honestly a bastard. It’s a blessing in disguise that you guys broke up.” You whipped your head up to look at him with surprise, dropping your chopsticks with a clatter.

Nice, friendly, kind Simeon was cursing? For whatever reason, that made you burst out into a peal of laughter – you covered your mouth with the back of your hand to stifle the sound when a vibration caught your attention.

[12:11PM] yuki <3333: club on fri. not takin no as an ans

[12:11PM] yuki <3333: the rest r comin too

[12:11PM] You: 🙁

[12:12PM] yuki <3333: dress hot. see u

[12:15PM] You: k…

Simeon looks at you curiously as you tap away on your phone. You pursed your lips as you turned your phone in his direction for him to read.

“Yuki asked me to go clubbing on Friday. I haven’t clubbed in years!” You threw your hands up in exasperation, almost flipping your bowl by accident. You quietly collect yourself when you notice the glares from the neighbouring table.

“Ah.” Simeon laughs as he glides the phone back to you.

“You should go though? I think it would be good for you to take your mind off…recent events.”

You frowned deeply, gesturing vaguely in exasperation before flopping into your seat. You didn’t want to go down without a fight but you couldn’t refute his sentiment.

“You’re right.” You grumbled. “Urgh. I hate you. Why are you always giving me such good advice?” You sniffed, as you wriggled a finger at him accusingly.

“It comes with the job. Come on, let’s head back to work.”

After leaving your office, you finally have the time to check the notifications on your phone. You were terribly busy after coming back from lunch with Simeon. Some asshole in your team had messed up and the boss had called for all hands on deck – leading you to be overworked on the first day of the week.

With a sigh, you swiped to open the notification from Satan.

[03:10PM] Satan: Good afternoon. I would like to make a proposition that we start a daily chat so that we can get to know each other better.

[05:40PM] You: sure! how was ur day, satan?

[05:50PM] Satan: It was good. I had a late start to the day so I spent the time with my cat. How was yours?

[06:10PM] You: U HV A CAT???? omg. send pics now.

[06:11PM] You: my day was great, thanks for asking. i had lunch w a co-worker

[06:16PM] Satan: Album - Video

[06:16PM] Satan: His name is Mr Bubbles.

You opened the video and immediately let out a squeal. This had already made your day a hundred times better. You couldn’t believe that Mr. Stick Up His Ass had such an adorable cat.

[06:18PM] Satan: That’s nice. What did you eat for lunch?

[06:18PM] You: OMG! hes so cute!

[06:19PM] You: wait lol is that why ur email is mrbubbleslover

[06:20PM] Satan: Smart. I use his name for my personal email.

[06:22PM] You: thats so cute lol

With a smile creeping on your face, the conversation between Satan and you continues throughout your commute home. Without even realising it, you had already arrived at your apartment.

Friday evening finally rolled around. The week had passed in a blur and the only thing that kept you sane was the daily reprieve when Satan texted you. It was on a fast track to becoming your favourite part of the day. Feeling generous, you decided to stop by Simeon’s office on your way out to bless him with your presence.

“Simeon!” You flung the door open with a dramatic gasp, “Wanna come with me tonight?”

The office was as pristine as ever. The colour-coded filing cabinet was pulled open as Simeon rummaged through it to search for a document. His office always reminds you of a hospital, with the bitter hint of antiseptic lingering in the air. You had previously complained about the smell but he was adamant in disinfecting his office every few hours to not bring any germs home.

Without looking up, Simeon answers. “I can’t, I have to take care of Luke.”

Simeon doesn’t even need to check. As always, the only possible person who would disturb him at this hour was you.

“You’re giving up a chance to go out with me for a puppy?” You say, pouting from your position in the doorway. The answer was expected, Simeon was the kind of person who would rather spend time indoors with his pet than out at a bar.

“Boringg.” You droned, still intent on teasing him.

“Unfortunately, Luke is still young and I would hate to leave him alone on a Friday night,” Simeon quipped back, sliding an unimpressed look your way. You heaved your bag higher up on your shoulder as you sighed, realising it was a lost cause.

“Fine, I’ll leave first then. See you.” Simeon just waves you off, as he continues in his work.

With his dismissal, you quickly exit the office – thankfully not bumping into anyone you know. The employees at this company were talkative. Once, you had spent a whole hour stuck in a conversation with your superior in the lift lobby. Simeon had just given you a pitiful look as he walked past you to leave.

On the commute home, you spent time doing your daily catch-up with Satan. You had learned much about the once-elusive man. You could rattle off a whole list – he had six brothers and a half-sister, he likes green, he’s an acclaimed professor with multiple degrees, the list just goes on. It’s a given that he knows as much about you too.

Briefly, you wonder if this little transactional relationship was spiraling into something bigger.

[06:13PM] Satan: Stay safe while clubbing.

[06:22PM] You: aye, aye sir

For the next hour or so, you spent your time getting ready as you waited for Yuki to arrive at your apartment to pick you up. You couldn’t tell if you were nervous. The clubbing scene has long ceased to be familiar to you – it was also the first time since the start of your previous relationship.

A chime sounds throughout the room and you struggle to put on your pair of heels. The incessant chiming of the doorbell alerts you to the urgency of the person on the other side of the door.

“Stop trying to break my doorbell.” You huffed.

“Sorry.” The amusement on Yuki’s face says otherwise.

You wait for her to lead the way but she pauses to glance down at you approvingly. “You look insane.” She remarks before tugging you by the hand, uncaring even as you stumble shakily down the hallway.

What an impatient woman.

“You could just say I look good.” You retort.

Yuki just laughs in response. The conversation between both of you flows easily from there and before you know it, you have arrived at the place.

Sensing your apprehension, Yuki slows down while approaching the table, giving you a chance to gather your composure together. You slide your palm up and down your thighs, to try and fend off the tension building up within you, in a sort of comforting motion.

A chortle of greetings rings throughout the table. There was a flurry of motion and suddenly, you were no longer standing but sitting by an acquaintance’s side. Both of you exchanged pleasantries, and time seemed to pass quickly.

At some point, drinks started coming out. With a couple of drinks in your system, you began to open up, your past inhibitions forgotten. For the most part, you bitch about your superiors, your stupid ex, and then for some reason, you brought up Satan.

Another couple of drinks blurs your judgment and suddenly, you get an intense urge to check in on him. With enough liquid courage and cheering from your friends, you whipped out your phone to draft a text.

[11:50PM] You: hi

[11:50PM] You: imisyyou

[11:52PM] You: hAHHA u knowwwww

[11:55PM] You: urrrrrrrrrr xtee

[11:56PM] You: cue

[12:01AM] You: cute**********

Satan is never awake at this time so you don’t expect to receive a reply. Instead, you shove your phone back into your pocket and return to the conversation at hand, enjoying the company of your friends and the thrill of the weekend.

You shouldn’t have drank so much. The raging headache that greets you when you wake up the next day felt almost like an assassination attempt. It was supposed to be a nice, chill, relaxing Saturday morning for you to sleep in. Yet, the saliva pooling in your mouth tells you otherwise.

“Yuki…I’m going to kill you…” You garble into your pillow, forcing yourself to sit up while you fight back the urge to vomit. The conscious realisation that it must be afternoon dawns late on you when you notice the sun high up in the sky through the open curtains.

You rubbed your eyes with one hand as you reached out a hand to blindly feel around the bed for your phone. The brightness of your phone temporarily stole your vision as you let out a grunt, waiting for your eyes to adjust.

[08:10AM] Satan: ?

[08:10AM] Satan: Are you drunk?

[08:11AM] Satan: Did you get back safely?

[08:40AM] You have one missed call from Satan

[08:45AM] Satan: I presume you must still be sleeping or hungover. Let me know if you’re safe once you see this message.

Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe the rollercoaster of emotions that you are feeling. Was it possible for you to move abroad to a place where nobody would find you? You searched up the cost of moving abroad to a distant village and were sorely disappointed by the sheer amount.

[03:01PM] You: hi

[03:03PM] You: i was drunk, im so sorry

[03:04PM] You: i didnt mean to send all that

[03:04PM] You: pls accept my apologies and if possible, erase this from ur memory pls

Satan comes online almost immediately.

Satan is typing…

[03:05PM] Satan: I’m glad to hear you’re safe.

[03:05PM] Satan: It’s nice to know that you think I’m cute though :)

You drop your phone.

[03:05PM] Satan: Have you eaten or drank any water? Hydration is very important after a whole night of drinking.

You scramble to grab your phone, looking back at the message again. The dull thudding in your head becomes distant as you stare at the text.

[03:10PM] You: ah yes, thank u for reminding me to drink water haha

Your fingers are still trembling as the next message comes in with a ding.

[03:12PM] Satan: Do you have time tomorrow? I discovered this new cafe known for their bubble tea and sandwiches. Are you free to accompany me?

[03:12PM] Satan: Location sent

You screenshot the message with bated breath and send it to Yuki.

[03:13PM] yuki <3333: GIRL WTF

[03:13PM] yuki <3333: IS HE ASKING U ON A DATE

[03:13PM] You: thats what i wanted to ask u…

[03:14PM] yuki <3333: I THINK SO?? JUST ACCEPT AND GO

You swiped back on the chat with Satan, unsure fingers hovering over the keyboard.

If it was a date, you honestly weren’t sure if you were ready for it. The heartbreak from your previous relationship was still fresh. It’s only been about a week since you got dumped.

[03:20PM] You: maybe not tomorrow :<

[03:21PM] You: i already have plans w my friends :’)

[03:21PM] You: maybe another time?

You shoved your phone in the pile of blankets watching as the screen lit up, probably from a reply from Satan. The dull thudding in your head had come back in full force as you gazed up at the ceiling.

══════════════════

| PART ONE | PART TWO | MASTERLIST

#reader is an overthinker (unfortunate)#satangwrites #satangwrites: lucky strike!#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me swd #shall we date om #obey me satan x you #satan x reader #obey me satan #satan #obey me x reader #obey me x you

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lunacry029 · 5 months ago

Text

Pt3 of learning 5 S's

Your heartbeat going fast and you starting to sweat and Then! Kenji surprise you behind the sofa.

Kenji : boo!

You : Ah! (Slap Kenji's face)

Kenji : ouch! that's hurt..

You : are you kidding me?! 😡 (Angry plus worry) How dare you sneak up on me .. you deserve it .. hm!

Kenji : (laugh) Come on.. you're not watching the horror movie.. why you so scare? (Sit beside you)

You : (glare at him) I know that but you better watch out Kenji.. I will get revenge..

Well.. day by day, not the 5 S's going smoothly~ it's going hard.. really really hard..

You : Kenji! Emi just poop right now.. (hold the puke)

Kenji : Y/n! I need the baby soap in store..

You : which one?!

Emi : (Run)

Kenji : the pink one! Hey, you better get here missy! (Catching Emi)

You : damn so many pink here..

...

You : Hey! Where are you going? (Notice Kenji while playing with Emi)

Kenji : this is emergency.. I need to go right now.. take care (kiss your cheek before he left)

Emi : (start crying)

You & Mina : Oh oh.. 😱 (distract Emi)

...

You and Mina try hard to distract Emi from crying but it was useless. Finally, Mina give her some fish to calming her down.. and yeah.. You and Mina relief that now Emi is sleeping.

...

BUT! not long after that, Emi got Acid reflux. You were in Kenji's Bedroom rush out go to basement..

You : Mina?! What's happening?!

Mina: She just had a acid reflux..

You : oh oh.. we need Kenji's help.. call him right now..

Mina : unfortunately, he didn't pick up..

You : ugh! My phone! (You mad because your phone left at Kenji's bedroom) Emi! Emi! Over here..

Emi : (almost laser you)

You : Okay.. that pretty dangerous..

Mina : (reveal something) I hope this will calm her..

You : (surprise) wow..

And~ yeah.. that the worse happen when Emi burst the Kenji's balloon.. so she throw tantrum.. Emi really want to Kenji right now so you can't help it..

This is scene where Emi were out of house.. You hurry get your phone and call Kenji.

Mina : uh.. miss Y/n.. seem like Emi just jump to the city..

You : Oh no !! 😱😱 (Panic) Mina, locate her to help Kenji okay..

Mina : yes, Miss y/n

Kenji : (call you) Y/n ! You just stay at my house! Don't go anywhere..

You : But Emi is in danger?!

Kenji : I know but stay there and I will take care of this..

You : please be careful 🥺..

Kenji : I know..

Skip to the scene, finally Emi is home with her broken hand. Lucky that, Kenji's dad arrived and treat her that night. While Mr. Sato and Kenji company Emi, you were cooking dinner for them.

Kenji : you're not eating with us?

You : uhm.. it's okay.. i don't have appetite right now.. (go to Kenji's bedroom)

Mr.Sato: that's weird.. (worry)

After Mr.Sato bonding with Kenji, he knock the door. There were silent but he hear that you are sniffing. The door was unlock so he open slowly and hug you from behind..

Kenji : shhh.. (rub your back) what's wrong?

You : I don't know.. It feel hurts when I saw Emi back with her broken hand.. I'm sorry that I can be there..

Kenji : Hey.. it's okay, she's fine now.. I know you worry about her..

You : Thank you for understanding for me.. I love you..

Kenji : I love you too.. (kiss your forehead) now let's get some sleep..

The end of learning 5 S's

#emi sato #pov #ultraman rising #ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato

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neiptune · 2 years ago

Text

I think there's been a glitch

c/w: 6k wc, wedding date trope, friends to (possible) lovers, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating, levi's smoothness has your brain short circuiting

Just as expected: you’re hating every second of it.

You love your family, you really do. Doesn’t matter how loud and overexcited and nosy they are, it’s always nice to take a few days off to travel back home. Sometimes it’s for birthdays, minor special occasions, surprise visits. Nothing was spontaneous about this specific occasion, though. Train tickets were bought months in advance, your dress picked facetiming your mom (she insisted), your arrival highly anticipated by aunts and uncles and cousins and old friends all coming together for the most significant event of the century: your little brother’s wedding.

To be absolutely honest, the day had a good start. Waking up at dawn didn’t bother you, not with the nutritious breakfast your mom had prepared and the excitement stirring behind your brother’s tense smile. The wedding was agreed to have a mix of traditional shinto-style (to please the bride’s family) and more laid back, western-style influences, something your family has always been accustomed to, given your dad’s roots.

The ceremony held at the shrine was emotional even for you. Hiromi looked gorgeous in her uchikake, gold threads and foil with motifs of waves and cranes standing out on a bright crimson base. You watched them drink the sake and exchange cups first, then vows and wedding rings. It was so hard to process than the man getting married was the same kid who once pooped himself in his crib at daycare and then proceeded to take off his diaper to play with the poop like it was play-doh. Sweet, sweet memories.

Everything started going downhill at the fancy hotel where the reception was set to be held.

The convention room is blinding in its beauty: white pillars, draping fabrics, pretty fairy lights and elegant floral arrangements compliment the venue and the minimalist but luxurious style your families decided to go with. You’re not foreign to wealth, your parents have worked hard to grant you and your sibling a comfortable life and you’re grateful for them. What you don’t like about your family, is how for your aunts and uncles and cousins, everything should constantly be tied to money and profit. Which is why they all turn up their noses when you reply to the dreaded “what’s your job again?” question. Which is why, at every family reunion, you’re forced to sit with your younger cousins and take part in the salary conversation (they could literally compare and brag for hours about raises and bonuses and working overtime and paid vacations). Which is why Aiko, already CEO of a join-stock company at her young age, had first introduced you to one of the employees from the financial department.

Floch Forster was certainly attractive, a real gentleman who’d take you out for fancy dinners, casual dates and fun rides on his flashy, red porsche cayenne. You liked him but your family had always liked him more, your brother going out for drinks with him, your dad inviting him over more and more frequently to watch baseball games or ask for help for the restoration of his old kawasaki ninja, a project he’d been working on for a while.

In the end, the relationship simply didn’t work out and you broke up with him in the most amicable way possible, the time spent together still worth cherishing. You were just too different from each other: his interests not matching yours, his friends way too stuck-up, his parents looking at you like you were some kind of gold digger.

But that’s when he became petty, cruel even, mocking your dreams, deriding your aspirations, sharp edged phrases and words thrown your way so harshly they still dance around your brain from time to time.

Are you surprised by his presence at your brother’s wedding? No. You knew he’d be invited, they’re still friends and you never really told your sibling how the separation actually went down. Is it shocking that he’s here with a pretty brunette anchored to his arm? Also no. He might be an asshole but he’s hot and rich, two qualities weighing pretty damn heavily on the bachelor scale. He’s also the main reason why you’d asked your painfully stoic, blasé friend to accompany you to the reception.

Yes, it was both a childish and desperate move, but you were willing to take drastic measures to save face before your very much extended very much elitist very much expectant family after the fatal phone call with your mom where you’d suddenly blurted out that you’d bring a special someone with you to the wedding.

Your love life (aka currently a big big void made of emotional unavailability & crippling loneliness) was yet another topic open to be attentively scrutinized by those around you. Normally you don’t mind, you really don’t, but just this one time you wanted it to be different. As much as you try not to let it get to you, the facts are that your younger brother is now married, your hot rich ex boyfriend has probably already proposed to his new girlfriend, you still haven’t been given the raise you were expecting and it plainly just sucks to be alone at weddings. It’s the fourth one you have attended on your own now and you can tell by your aunt’s sympathetic gaze and your cousins’ knowing giggles that you’re not gonna be able to push the he had to attend an emergency meeting with external partners lie any longer.

Frustration makes your stomach churn. Why couldn’t he have indulged you just this once?

“Oh, come on”

“No”

“Please!”

“Still no”

“I can beg”

“You’ve been begging for the past ten minutes”

“I can beg better?”

Levi’s resolute glare didn’t soften like it did on the rare occasions when he accommodated your requests.

“Why do you even need this?”

You heaved a deep sigh over his obstinacy, index finger lazily tracing the edge of the steaming cup in front of you. You’ve always been a coffee person but his is the only tea you’ll drink.

“D’you want the honest answer or the pathetic, moping one?”

He raised an eyebrow with a far too evident interest that had you rolling your eyes.

“Both”

“Well, if you must know, it’s because I’m a lame, lonely, disappointment of an adult who’s scared of facing her family’s overcritical comments and knowing glances at her younger sibling’s wedding” you paused to take a deep breath “that and the fact that I already lied and said I was gonna bring someone and my perfect ex everyone loves so much is gonna be there”

Levi slowly took a sip from his own cup, the classic bergamot flavor notes lingering with tantalizing velvety softness on his tongue.

“They both sound pathethic and moping to me”

You shrugged with a weak smile.

“They’re both honest, too”

“You’re gonna be fine” he pushed the little plate of shortbreads towards you.

“Did you hear the part about my perfect ex?” nevertheless, you accepted the cookie offer and, much to your friend’s horrified expression, dipped one into your tea prior to taking a bite.

“Give him my love” Levi ignores your frown and, more importantly, the annoyance he felt listening to you belittling yourself so blatantly.

“Okay” a defeated sigh leaves your lips as you take another cookie “not sure why I thought you’d get it”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Mouth still full, you gestured vaguely with your hands, tiny crumbs attached to your fingertips catching his attention for a split second before you speak again.

“Why would you? You’re a functioning adult. Should’ve asked someone as fucked up as me, maybe Reiner from the marketing department will—”

“A functioning adult?” Levi cut in, tone oozing with skepticism “that’s new. You usually refer to me as the clean freak with a stick up his ass”

“Which you are” your clarification is met with another glare “but you wouldn’t understand what being lame means”

“How so?” he challenged, eyes narrowed and some sort of weird warmth in the pit of his stomach he didn’t know how to shake off.

“You have your shit together, Levi. M’sure your family wouldn’t shoot sympathetic gazes your way if you showed up to your brother’s wedding on your own”

“I don’t have a brother”

“Not the point” you let out an obnoxious groan as you slightly pushed the empty cup away and dropped your head to rest on your overlapped arms, forehead pressing on the soft fabric of your sleeve. Levi sat still, grey eyes fixed on you.

“You’re not lame, idiot” no one else would’ve been able to tell that his tone had gone softer “I’m not dating anyone either and you still think I’m a functioning adult”

Exasperated, you turn your head so that your cheek is now pressed to your wrist as you glare at him.

“But that’s your choice. You don’t like anyone. While I had three of my coworkers come to my desk just to ask who the handsome dude passing by to bring me a homemade bento box was”

Half a smile dripping with smugness tugged at his lips, one that caused you to roll your eyes again.

“Don’t even” you warn, already gagging at the idea of him considering to visit you at work more often “forget I said anything. I’ll handle it”

As Levi inched across the table to flick your forehead and then got up to collect your cups, you had to quickly whisk away the thought of how much your family would have genuinely liked someone like him too.

On second thought, it’s not really fair to blame him. You might not be a greatly functioning one, but you’re still an adult. You can face something as trivial as the disappointment of multiple generations of your family, right? Either way, it would’ve felt wrong. It would’ve been awkward. Levi is stiff, way too cold, the opposite of cordial. He would hardly be credible as the good friend he actually is, let alone pass for a boyfriend. Has he ever even dated someone? You’re sure he has, given how weirdly popular he is. Yeah, there was one girl, what was her name again? Petra? Ugh, he hardly shares anything truly personal with you anyway. Sure, you can guess he’s a good partner. Handsome, kind, talented enough to cook killer meals, maybe even good in bed. It just wouldn’t hurt him to be a little more… amicable. But maybe that’s what women find attractive? The fact that he’s like this weird, interesting secret thing to continuously discover and unwrap until it suddenly turns into the perfect, passionate lover any woman wants to end up with?

The champagne you’re downing at the hotel bar is proving to be a wonderful ally, although your mind currently seems to be wandering a little. Or it was, at least until a familiar, awfully close and quite frankly unsettling voice causes a harsh return to the pathetic reality you’re trying to escape.

“Drowning your sorrows in alcohol? You haven’t changed at all” the venomous smile on his face is so painfully familiar it has your insides twisting right away.

“I’m really not in the mood, leave me alone” you mutter, not even sparing him a glance as you stubbornly focus on the golden bubbles popping in your freshly filled flute.

But Floch takes a seat right next to you and elegantly orders two martinis.

“Shaken, not stirred” he adds, to live up to yet another clichè. You can hardly suppress a snort.

“I would argue you already are. Alone, I mean” the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the mahogany counter distracts you for a few seconds. When your gaze finally meets his, the fake sympathy glistening mischievously in his amber eyes almost has you barfing on the spot.

“Where’s your trophy wife? Is she even legal?”

Unperturbed, Floch smiles sweetly at you.

“She reminds you of yourself, doesn’t she? A young dove in need of rescue, held captive by the wrong guy” he inches closer, smile growing wider “but she’s nothing like you. You’re too exhausting to love, no one in their right mind would choose that”

And just like that, memories that cut as deep as razors make their way back to you right then and there.

If you really want to lose weight you shouldn’t eat the free bread at restaurants.

I feel like you’re faking this just to make me feel guilty.

You’re not that attractive anymore, you know that?

I’m sorry you feel that way.

Could’ve done so much better than you all this time.

Now I don’t feel so bad about having cheated.

The flute in your hand might very well shatter from how tightly you’re holding it, knuckles white as two drinks gracefully slide in front of you. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, not him entirely but letting him know that he can still get under your skin.

“Fuck you” in a final, desperate attempt at playing off your discomfort as indifference, you hold him level in your gaze, a boldness so weak it has him chuckling.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You both turn to your right, the shock laced into your features comical enough to be met with a patient, slight smile.

Levi looks nothing less than dashing in his black suit, hands buried in the pockets of pants you wouldn’t even think he’d own. Since you’re pretty sure the alcohol has you hallucinating at this point, you open your mouth to voice your surprise, Floch’s presence long forgotten and filed away at the back of your mind. But right before you can sabotage yourself with dumb, unnecessary inquiries, Levi takes a step forward and with one, swift motion, cradles your cheek in his hand to gently press his lips to your forehead.

“Sorry I’m late” he murmurs, fighting back another smile before the dumbstruck way you keep looking at him.

“We haven’t met” Levi’s eyes follow the voice and flicker to the person sitting next to you. That’s when you snap back to reality once again. Goddamn, maybe the champagne wasn’t that good of an ally after all.

“We haven’t” he replies and Floch introduces himself, offering a hand that never gets shaken. Levi gives him a nod instead, a silvery gaze cold as steel you’ve never seen him direct to anyone. Perhaps that’s why it makes you shiver.

“Should we go? I’d like to meet your parents” his voice is kind as he looks at you again and you accept the support of his hand to hop down from the barstool. He doesn’t let go as he guides you away from the hotel bar and lightly squeezes your hand even if it’s cold and clammy.

“How are you here? When… why?” you whisper, still unable to shake off the shock of his sudden, unexpected presence.

“Stop asking dumb questions and play your part”

That’s more like it, you think. Thank god for the infuriating, irritating tone and impatient glare. Their familiarity will certainly be enough to ground you despite the warmth you can still feel on your forehead, right where his lips were pressed a few seconds earlier.

But then he looks at you again, head slightly tilted to the side, eyes slowly taking in your figure so blatantly, in a way so uncommon for him, it has the same warmth from before exploding in your chest as well.

“You look very nice, by the way”

Fuck being grounded, apparently.

The champagne is no longer buzzing in your veins but it might as well be since your mind feels all over the place and you haven’t had a single second to collect your thoughts. Not in the middle of so many introductions, your mother’s obnoxious questions, your very much tipsy aunt’s inappropriate jokes, the microphone you had to approach and the speech you had to give in front of hundreds of people, one of them always focused on you with such intensity you won’t have to rewatch the videotape at family reunions to know that words came out ungraceful and wrong.

To be honest, the most unsettling thing is how smoothly the whole thing is going. It’s not weird, it’s definitely not awkward and he seems to be in complete control. Staggered, you’re left watching with wonder floating in incredulous eyes, a Levi you don’t think you’ve ever met before. It’s so effortless, the way he speaks to people he’s never met before and manages to come off as interesting, witty, charming. He’s smiling, he’s even respectfully offering elegant chuckles to uncomfortably personal questions and stories you just know he doesn’t actually think are funny.

As you dine at the table filled with curious old friends and noisy cousins, for the first time able to stay silent as all the attention is directed towards someone other than yourself, a weird thought crosses your mind. Levi, your friend Levi, fits so well. He’s perfectly at ease around chatty strangers, bold roses, tea lights and candles in clear metallic holders. How’s that even possible? The Levi you know, your Levi, curses under his breath if his usual barista tries to make small talk. He grunts if the cashier at the cinema chirps an overly excited hope you enjoy the movie, sir. You literally know he’s once replied to one of his clients’ email with please stop hoping your email finds me well, it never does.

So who’s the person sitting next to you, warm knee flush against yours underneath the table, features relaxed, pink tinted cheeks, courtesy of the cabernet sauvignon you’ve been served? It has your head spinning, the thought of him enduring a 4-hour train trip (he hates trains) to reach a town he’s never been to (he hates Kobe and its humid, subtropical climate) to attend a wedding (he hates social gatherings) as your date. What had him changing his mind? When did he change it? How is he so good at coming off as this bundle of… of… confidence and magnetism and graciousness?

He’s been impeccable so far, going as far as to bring a shugi-bukuro envelope with 50.000 JPY inside as a wedding gift.

Isn’t that what they’d expect from the groom’s sister’s partner?

Clearly, you have every intention of giving him that money back. As soon as you recover from the sudden and absolutely unexplainable embarrassment you feel every time his eyes flicker to you during a conversation or the shudder that runs down your spine when his hand gently presses on the small of your back to guide you from one table to the other, as different family members and friends of yours excitedly motion you to approach them.

It doesn’t have anything to do with him specifically, you tell yourself. It’s just the shame you must be feeling at carrying out such a pathetic act in front of everyone, it’s the awkwardness of having forced one of your closest friends to go out of his way to support your stupid, childish plan that now has you feeling all weird and vulnerable. Levi is not being his usual self and that makes you uncomfortable because you’re not allowed to be your usual self in turn. No sarcastic remarks, no witty comebacks, not a drop of the usual teasing you enjoy annoying him with.

It’s not him, it’s the whole setting. That’s what you tell yourself when Levi asks you to dance.

“Why?” you come off as defensive and he furrows his brows, confused.

“Because it’s what couples do at weddings?”

“We don’t have to” you’re not sure what you’re doing at this point “you can’t even dance”

He huffs at that, inching a little closer to casually lift the strap of your cocktail dress, cool fingertips barely brushing the skin of your arm as they guide the thin length of fabric up to your shoulder. The simple, intimate gesture stirs something in you.

“Are you coming or not? He’s watching”

You follow his gaze and meet Floch’s, three tables to the left. At this point the thought of him seems so worthless, so distant in time, you don’t even care about his judgmental glare anymore. But you don’t have the chance to make that clear, because your date whispers a soft “come on” so close to your ear his voice seems to trickle down your spine just to make you shiver and then offers his arm as an invitation for you to get up.

Regular you would’ve mocked the gesture, called him a victorian ghost or something. Current you, on the other hand? Apparently she’s accepting the support of his arm and can barely register Aiko’s excited squeal as she follows him all the way to the different couples already filling up the middle of the convention room, too disoriented to even remember she is the one who can’t dance. Still, the upbeat rhythm of the song being played is familiar enough to give you a false sense of security: you can wing it. Until you can’t. Because right as you position yourself in front of your friend with a tense smile, the familiar beat is abruptly taken from you. The music doesn’t stop, it just has the audacity to change into an excessively romantic, exceptionally slow, sappy track.

But Levi doesn’t look as dazed as you. He doesn’t waver as he pulls you close with one swift motion, right hand warm on your back while you barely have the time to balance yourself, fingers tightening around the fabric of his jacket, right above the shoulder.

“You’re being weird” he clasps your other hand, one eyebrow raised in that overcritical way of his.

“You’re being weird” you parrot back.

“What d’you mea—fuck” he curses as quietly as possible when you stomp on his foot, looking down for the first time to notice how weirdly and out of step you’re actually moving.

“Shit, sorry!” you, on the other hand, are not as quiet and attract the unwanted attention of the couple dancing nearby.

“What exactly are you doing?” Levi’s tone is familiarly mocking, which takes some of the weird awkwardness away.

“I’m not really good at this, okay?” you retort, praying your harsh reply remains private this time. Amused, he hums.

“No way”

“Shut up” you whine and accidentally step on his expensive leather shoe again, hard enough to make him hiss.

“Just follow my lead” Levi gives your left hand an impatient squeeze and you scoff with a theatrical ugh.

“Sexist”

He rolls his eyes but says nothing because you comply and honestly try to keep track of how he’s moving, intensely focused on not trampling on his foot again.

“Hey” his voice is dangerously soft once again “eyes on me”

Reluctantly, you look up from your feet and take a deep breath.

“Why are you this tense?”

“M’not a good dancer” you blurt the words out, as if to convince yourself. He’s noticed, of course he’s noticed. Idiot.

“Okay” Levi stops for a moment and gently grabs your wrists to guide your arms around his neck. He then positions his hands on your hips and applies the slightest pressure to guide your movements. “Better?” he asks and you know he’s just wondering if this is easier for you, but the dryness of your throat seems to be taking over your ability to speak. You resort to a simple nod as he sways to the beat, feet barely lifting while stepping from side to side. You get accustomed to the movement after a while and manage to move your body slowly back and forth, the comfort of not feeling like a wooden block allowing you to relax a little.

“How are you so good at this?” it almost sounds like you’re accusing him, must be why he cracks a smile.

“Took a few classes with Hange, they were obsessed and had no one else to go with”

You’re finally able to let out a genuine, incredulous laugh.

“I’m sorry, what? So you just joined? Goodness of your heart?”

Levi shrugs.

“They had to buy me lunch for a month. Totally worth it”

There’s mirth glistening in his eyes when the pressure of his hands changes slightly, the left one tightening on your waist to subtly guide you in the opposite direction. Has he danced like this with Hange as well? If yes, did they feel as flustered and ridiculous as you’re feeling? Probably not, because they’re friends and friends should not experience the weird body reactions you seem to be having at the moment, goosebumps blossoming underneath his fingertips, the staccato of your heartbeat, blood wooshing in your ears. Fuck.

“Tense again” his eyes are narrowed now, but not in his usual, threatening way. He’s studying you, looking for something he can’t seem to pinpoint amidst your dazed expression and sweaty hand. He would’ve been grossed out by anybody else’s palm but this is you, so Levi can’t really bring himself to give a shit.

“I’m sorry” you murmur and the sudden, sheepish route catches him off guard. You’re avoiding his gaze, eyes focused on something, somewhere over his shoulder.

“For what?”

“This whole charade” you whisper the last word, head hanging low just an excuse not to look at him “I’m so pathetic you felt bad enough to drop all your plans, come all the way here, be perfect and nice to everyone, spend so much money and I can’t even dance…” you sniffle, horrified by the sensation of being on the verge of bursting into tears in the middle of the dance floor.

Levi is silent long enough to prompt you to timidly look up from your shoes again. You’re worried he’s gonna be mad because what the hell, this is what you wanted. You asked him to do this for you and now it’s too late to whine about how sorry you are. But he doesn’t look mad. His features are unreadable as you return his gaze, which stirs a whole new kind of nervousness in you.

“I’m going to twirl you” the gentle warning takes you by surprise as Levi takes your hand from behind his neck, steps back a little and lifts your arm above your head. A bit stiffly, you turn around under it.

“Again” he prompts, arm already guiding you through another twirl. You comply, so clumsily a chuckle slips past your lips and Levi cracks another smile as you balance yourself against him, arms around his neck once again.

“See? You can dance” he mutters with a tone so soft it makes your heart squeeze.

“Please” you scoff, voice still a little broken that just won’t. Do.

Levi hums to himself, like he does whenever he’s trying to come to a decision.

“Let’s dip”

Your eyes comically grow in size.

“Let’s not?”

“I’ll do all the work” he playfully gives your hip a light squeeze to emphasize his words “you just have to let go”

“I’m not exactly good at letting go” you hope he can sense the warning in your tone but all you get is another eye roll.

“Yeah, I noticed” his tone, unlike yours, is weirdly serious “d’you trust me?”

Oh, well, putting it that way surely isn’t fair.

“Unfortunately, you’ve given me a reason or two to do that” you heave another sigh, defeated. Another smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m gonna do it slowly” he reaches behind his neck to grab your hand again, while his fingertips rise from your hip to your upper back.

“Twirl” Levi gently spins you again and his touch is featherlike when it glides down your side, grazes your stomach and settles on your lower back as you turn around, warm palm pressing firmly against it. The hand holding yours anchors your arm around his neck, then finds place on the nape of yours.

“Now, relax” it’s barely a whisper, so close you can’t hold back a shudder he pretends not to notice.

You soften your knees and then, with a movement so swift and natural, you’re turned to the side and pressed flush against him for a second, nestled in his embrace before you shut your eyes and Levi gently dips you, one of his strong arms secured around your waist to support your weight, the hand sustaining your neck tightening around your hair for a moment so brief you think you’ve imagined it.

He pauses as if you weigh nothing, then slowly brings you up again and you open your eyes, brows furrowing right as he lets completely go of you and the warmth of his arms is taken away so abruptly.

“You okay?” you didn’t think you’d be the one asking the question but something seems to be bothering him as he returns your confused gaze.

“Yeah. Can we take a break?” still weirdly well mannered, you find yourself thinking as you agree to make your way to your table again. Only he stops you right before you can take a seat next to Aiko, who’s blatantly gushing over you’re not sure what, precisely. Is it him? Or the weird dance that had you looking like a complete fool in front of everyone?

“How long before the cake?” he politely asks your cousin and she shrugs, not even attempting to hide the wide grin stretching her lips.

“Maybe around ten minutes”

“Permission to steal the groom’s sister for around ten minutes?”

Aiko’s chuckle isn’t enough to distract you from the tightening of your chest, something not entirely unpleasant swarming around in your stomach when he slips his fingers in between yours.

“Permission granted” she winks and you still, for the life of you, cannot understand why your heart flutters as you follow him outside the room, away from the party and the music and the chatter and all those happy, proud glances you’re no longer able to return because of how embarrassed you are by your own lie.

“Where are we going?” you bring yourself to ask, finding it exceptionally odd that he’s waiting for the elevator.

“My room”

“What? Why?”

Levi turns his head to look at you, eyebrows furrowing at your strangled tone.

“I forgot the wedding gift on the nightstand”

“Oh” you let out a nervous chuckle “right. And why d’you need me for that?”

“You look like you’re about to throw up, thought you could use a few minutes away from the crowd”

Well, he’s not wrong. But that doesn’t mean he gets to know.

“Dunno what you’re talking about” you flash him a fake smile and he skeptically hums as the doors open and you step inside.

Of course his room is located at the top floor of the building, where all the suites are. One thing about Levi is that he likes treating himself: whether it’s shopping from brands that produce top quality loose leaf teas, selecting premium suiting fabrics or always ordering the most expensive red wine at a restaurant, his taste is impeccable. He travels first class and only stays at 5-star hotels, so you really shouldn’t feel the guilt pangs stinging like needles in your throat when he swipes the key card through the magnetic reader and swings the door open. You shouldn’t feel so bad while taking in the king size bed, the LCD tv, the additional area with armchairs and a whole sofa, the private balcony. But you do. And when he turns to look at you, still standing by the door with a heartbreaking, bashful expression taking over your features, Levi clenches his jaw.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you watch him slide the balcony glass door.

“So many questions” he prompts you to precede him with a slight tilt of his head.

“What about the gift?”

Levi hates seeing you so defensive, so upset. He’s not used to that weird self-consciousness, not when you’re with him at least. Didn’t he come to obtain the exact opposite of what he’s getting? Isn’t he here to shield you from embarrassment, uneasiness? Why are you persisting in your stubborn shame?

“I get around ten minutes, remember?” he attempts a smile your tense features choose not to mirror. You sigh softly instead and, still uncertain, accept his invitation.

Outside the air is cool, a balm for your feverish skin. The balcony furniture includes two wooden armchairs, one small coffee table and a small couch. You plop down on the latter, not even having the energy to properly appreciate the beauty of a sparkly Kobe right at your feet, silhouettes of skyscrapers standing out against the night sky, the flickering lights of the harbor shining in the distance, tower so familiar you’d recognize it from a mile away. It’s home.

“So” Levi makes himself comfortable next to you, the breeze gently combing his hair back “wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Plenty is wrong, the most urgent matter being the overpowering attraction you’re feeling for one of your closest friends. It’s fine, no use lying to yourself any longer. Maybe it’s always been there, underneath all the teasing and the jokes and his rare smiles that always felt like small victories you got to collect and preserve in your memory at the end of each day, when you’d often replay the hours spent together as pretty movie frames in your mind right before drifing off to sleep. But it’s easy, playing weird feelings off as regular familiarity that comes with friendship. You just didn’t think this night would make things feel so different, so good.

He’d be a great actual date, a wonderful actual boyfriend too, probably. He’s already a wonderful, actual friend. One that dropped everything to rush to the rescue of annoying, silly you, seemingly an adult but really a scared excuse of a grown up who can’t confront her family on a matter as trivial as not being in a relationship. It’s mortifying, really. You wouldn’t think it’d feel that humiliating, especially not in his presence.

Slender fingers delicately close on the fist you don’t realize you’re clenching. They’re warm as they try to make their way underneath yours, a silent plea for you to let go of the fabric clutched in your hand.

“I already told you” your hand lets go at last and slips easily from underneath his touch, the silk of your carefully picked cocktail dress wrinkled already.

“You feel guilty about me dropping all my plans, coming all the way here, beng perfect and nice to everyone, spending so much money…” he’s being playful but the teasing doesn’t elicit the eye roll or chuckle he was hoping he’d get. Your head just hangs lower, chin almost pressing to your chest, as if you’re trying to curl into yourself.

“About that, you’re gonna accept a complete refund. Train tickets, this room, wedding gift, everyth—”

Levi cuts you off by grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him, eyes narrowed in a familiarly impatient gaze. He can’t believe the nonsense you’re sputtering out, the weird formality of it all.

“Stop that” his voice vibrates with determination and words are forced to die in your throat as he inches closer, grip loosening ever so slightly “you keep looking at things and seeing the opposite of what they are”

“So what, you didn’t spend a fortune to be here?” you challenge and he sighs, as done as a person can humanly be.

He lets go of your jaw but you don’t pull back.

“You asked me to be here”

“And I’m trying to apologize for it!”

God, you’re wearing him out.

You get up from the couch and, out of frustration, rest your back against the railing, palms behind you pressed on the cold, metal edge. Levi is looking at you so intensely you’re tempted to turn around and just take the view in to calm yourself because this is going downhill enough to become a fight and fights with Levi are never pretty. You should know.

“Remember the reasons you put forward to try and convince me to come?” his calm tone is such a sharp contrast to his hardened features, it takes you by surprise.

“Pretty sure I called myself lame and pathetic quite a few times” you shoot him a frown.

“Yeah” he gets up as well “then I end up actually getting here and guess what I found?”

You let out a dry laugh, one with not an ounce of humor embedded in it.

“A version of me worse enough to be brought in your room to hide?”

Two well measured steps and Levi is in front of you right as you cross your arms in defense.

“The version of you I already know” he retorts, exasperated “beautiful, intelligent, clumsy. A functional adult with a family that loves her very much”

“You’re drunk” you breathe out but it’s yours the head that’s spinning. Somehow, Levi knows. At least that’s what you guess when he steps closer, arms effectivey caging you against the railing as he slightly leans forward.

“Hardly” he mutters, pensive, and you swear his eyes flicker to your lips for a second “you don’t see things for what they are. I didn’t see a perfect ex, just a self entitled asshole. Didn’t meet hypercritical family members, just old-school people who are unyielding in their affection for you. I could’ve stayed home, honestly, you seem to be bothered by me the most”

“I’m not bothered by you, don’t be fucking stupid” you blurt out, saliva levels down to zero at this point. What is he even doing? Why is he so close, why does he smell so nice and where the fuck is that wedding gift?

“Ah, there she is” Levi offers a soft smile “had me missing her all night”

He then moves a strand of hair away from your forehead and the pads of his fingers linger on your temple, then barely graze your skin as they travel all the way down to your cheek and along your jaw.

You’re unfamiliar with this version of him. It’s a version that compliments the one that’s met your family and friends, the wedding date you’ve been lucky enough to score. This version knocks the wind out of your lungs and has your knees weak.

But then something happens, the snap of invisible fingers and, just like that, the magic wears out. Your skin is left burning and his arms set you free as he takes a step back and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I had a good time so enough with your guilt-ridden bullshit”

You’re barely able to catch your breath, still dizzy from the change of the overall mood. Perhaps he’s right and you’re the drunk, hallucinating one.

Levi slides the balcony door again but goes back inside first this time, leaving you little to no time to pull yourself together or calm the pounding of your heart. He collects no envelope from the nightstand before you both leave the room, a burning sensation churning in your stomach as you follow him down the hallway, feeling utterly boneless when you stop in front of the elevator. Maybe that Petra girl did have a point.

“There’s still one thing you probably haven’t noticed about me” right as a ding echoes in the empty hallway he turns his head to look at you, standing a few feet behind “I’m a terrible fucking liar. Wouldn’t convince anyone if I tried”

#aot #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #aot fic #ok listen this was meant to be something short and quick but it has DRAINED me lol #which doesn't mean you should expect a masterpiece #I actually don't know if I like how this turned out but I'm just glad it can be yours now #please let me know your thoughts :)

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meowzfordayz · 1 year ago

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when your gut hurts — kyojuro, sanemi, giyuu

Author’s Note: wasn’t sure how to title this in a way that would accurately communicate the subject matter and show up in tags. 😅💩

when your gut hurts — kyojuro, sanemi, giyuu

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~500

CW: explicit language, poop, vomit

Emergency Request Fulfilled: Hi i’m not sure what this constitutes as a pick me up, emergency or wtv- i’ve been having a lot of abdominal pains and a lot of bowel issues(I haven’t gotten off the toilet in 10 minutes and I keep going between pooping and throwing up) recently and I was just wondering if I could get a HC List on how the Hashira’s would deal with their s/o being stuck in a similar position. I totally get if this is a bit too gross- and it’s 100% ok if you don’t do it but I hope to see it 🙏🤞

~faqs~

Since this is an emergency request (aka ~shorter than “normal” fanfics), I’m going to focus on Kyojuro (fan fave) ❤️‍🔥, Sanemi (my fave) 🤍, and Giyuu (also my fave) 💙

Very methodical and attentive ☺️

Genuinely unbothered bc he approaches your situation as

“They’re sick, and I get to take care of them.”

Remember how well he handled Tanjirou’s abdominal injury?

That’s him w/ you and your pain + bowel movements 🥺

Among other things, Kyojuro: makes sure there’s plenty of toilet paper in the house 🧻, cooks a simple broth to replenish lost fluids and nutrients (dw, it’s hard to mess up a recipe that’s primarily water), happily unclogs the toilet if/when need be 🚽, willingly takes on emptying-the-vomit-bucket duty 😅, and constantly switches between rubbing your stomach or playing cards/watching shows w/ you — in other words, keeps you company 💞

Depending on how long your symptoms persist, he’ll eventually gently recommend taking you to the hospital

But if you decline his recommendation, then he’s content to continue monitoring you at home instead ❤️‍🔥

Worried out of his fucking mind 😖

Gives zero fucks about how “disgusting” you currently are

Will immediately shush you and kiss your forehead/nose/cheeks 😤🤍

Altho, Sanemi’s equally likely to tease you, “Whoa, that one sounded especially wet 😏🥴💩,” if you seem to be in the right headspace for banter

Mostly, he’s attempting to lighten the mood so he doesn’t slip back into worrying 😃

Anticipates + takes care of your needs (i.e. liquids, meds, toilet paper, etc) before you do

But in a sort of stoic-nearly-grumpy manner 🙃

*cue Sanemi unceremoniously handing you a glass of lukewarm water*

*cue Sanemi staring at you until you take at least a couple sips*

Again, he isn’t upset

Just worried 🥲

Has to resist asking every other min, “How are you feeling?” bc obvi you’re feeling shitty ☹️

And he trusts you to tell him if you’re approaching the get-me-to-the-hospital lvl of concern

Ngl, Giyuu’s a lil lost 😵‍💫

He doesn’t mind the pooping and vomiting

Albeit part of him winces every time (he wishes he could take on your pain and discomfort 😓)

But he is bothered by how ill prepared he feels 😕

Like, is holding your hair back while you puke really helpful? 😕

Does sitting outside the bathroom as you poop—to keep you company—actually comfort you? 😕 Or is it just weird of him? 😕

Should he prepare something for you to eat, or would that prolong your symptoms? 😕

At what point does he insist on taking you to the hospital? 😕

Ofc, he doesn’t voice his self doubt 🫠

Instead, Giyuu does what he would want you to do for him 💓

Admittedly, it takes him a long moment to think about what he would want in your position… he’s used to taking care of himself, and gets a lil emotional when he realizes he gets to lean on you now — and you on him 😭💘

#headcanons #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 4 months ago

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Since you have chinchillas, how good would be skeletons with chinchillas?

Thor and Mjöllnir approve this post.

Undertale Sans - He loves to just sit for hours looking them run everywhere. Papyrus is not too happy about the death of the wallpaper they turned to confetti, but Sans thinks it adds charm to the house. He hates a house looking too clean, and that's great because they are as clean as he is: not at all!

Undertale Papyrus - He's happy he has company during the long night when he's not sleeping. However, he never realized small animals like that could be even more chaotic than this annoying dog roaming the house, and sometimes even teaming up with it! He spends hours cleaning their mess, to the point it doesn't feel like Sans moved out, never lol.

Underswap Sans - They're matching his energy, he loves to play with them at night and even race with them in the corridors. He feels like he's turning into a chinchilla himself, tired the day and overexcited at night.

Underswap Papyrus - He never thought his first heartbreak would be because a chinchilla pushed his hand away while he tried to pet it but here he is. If soft, why not cuddly? Honey is devastated.

Underfell Sans - The best day of his life is that day when both him and his chinchillas teamed up to attack Doomfanger. They're maybe little, but they can defend themselves, and with his help, they're invincible. He finally takes his revenge on this damn cat. He showers his babies with treats afterward.

Underfell Papyrus - He thought Doomfanger was a snob but that was before he got chinchillas. He woke up his female a bit too fast and she threw pee at his face for all answer. Wow. He's in love.

Horrortale Sans - He realized he made a mistake after his chinchillas found a way to his headhole, the chinchillas decided it was the best game ever and now are obsessed with going in there. He tried to teach them to not do that but quickly realized that a chinchilla is training you, not the other way around. So he had to train himself to accept having a chinchilla in the head... Because they for sure don't take no for an answer.

Horrortale Papyrus - He never thought such small animals could be so stressful. Since chinchillas don't like heat, he spends his day monitoring the weather and kinda panics when it's too hot outside, to the point he feels like he's burning from the inside himself. Honestly? His chinchillas sleep all day and don't give a care in the world about how hard he's struggling to keep them cool. He hates summer so much.

Swapfell Sans - He's sipping a tea, a chinchilla on each shoulder, facing one of his tied rivals. What? You think they are not as scary as pit bulls or Doberman? Wait for them to prevent you from sleeping three nights in a row and we'll see if they're not so scary anymore. They're a menace. You stand no chance. If you persist, he makes them take their dust bath right in front of your face to blind you. Most dangerous creatures on Earth.

Swapfell Papyrus - They all have Pokemon names and he sends them in battle against random people (even if it's not really effective, even if it can summon cuteness aggression). You see, Rus couldn't adopt one or two. He adopted twenty of them. He has an army of Pokemons and he's unbeatable now. He walks around with all twenty of them hanging on his shoulders or in his pockets and he's not scared to use them. What are you even going to do to stop him?

Fellswap Gold Sans - He wouldn't do good. They're throwing hay and poop everywhere and he would have a mental breakdown just picking their poop over and over again. Since chinchillas poop around up to 240 times a day, he would explode after two hours.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He just wants a hug! Just one, please! But now, his chinchillas are giving him the cold shoulder, and refuses to stay on his knees for more than two seconds. Coffee is terribly frustrated, but he can't force them. So he just lays in bed, looking sad. Buy him a dog please.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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palsdoody · 1 year ago

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#Residential Pooper Scooper Services #dog poop #dog poop pick up #poo pick up #poop pick up company

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possiblyunhinged · 2 months ago

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Sorry, but it makes me laugh that Labour is looking to pick up the Tory desire to ban public smoking, considering their lacklustre desire to effectively tax rich people's assets and cigarettes being taxed within an inch of their lives.

BuT iT cOsTs ThE nHs MoNeY... mate working people are existing off a diet of processed foods because this country is a cesspit. Millions are having to rely on food banks to eat. Sewage is poured into our oceans. Children are getting shorter due to malnutrition.

If the government were that arsed about public health, Starmer would be trotting into the execs of Supermarket chains and suggesting perhaps they should shove their multi-million-pound annual bonuses up their poop shoots and make fresh produce more affordable.

We're on a dying planet. Billionaires essentially use governments like finger puppets. We've been fooled into thinking that recycling our oat milk cartons is adequate climate action whilst rich folk piss around on private planes and yachts. Meanwhile, everything is so fucking expensive that people are being pushed towards environmentally disastrous companies like feckin' Temu and Shein.

Let me chain smoke in a pub garden in peace, for the love of fucking Christ.

#uk politics #British politics #keir starmer #labour #conservatives #I desperately want labour to prove people wrong but sweet jesus

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terramythos · 2 months ago

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@gunktuationmark encouraged me to post this dogshit writing exercise ^_^

i am trying to write something every day to get back into the habit

9.5.24

We say something is ‘dogshit’ but are we really thinking about what that entails? At the risk of being derivative, everybody poops. And boy does that include dogs. We have this entire system built around processing dog shit. There are laws to make someone pick up their dog’s shit or pay a fine. There are stations in parks that dispense plastic bags PURELY so you can clean up your dog’s shit. There are entire companies dedicated to picking up and disposing of dog shit. Have you ever gone on a hike somewhere and seen a little plastic baggy full of dog shit just left at the side of the trail that has obviously been there for days? What the fuck? Who the fuck is doing this? If you’re not going to bother throwing out the bag why did you bother picking up the dog shit? How many plastic bags filled with a dog’s single shit session are sitting somewhere in a landfill? People use dog shit for infamous, disgusting pranks— flaming dog shit on your porch. Is that a thing people really do?

So if something is ‘dogshit’ it’s probably unpleasant, but does it also have an entire social hierarchy built around it? You can talk about indoor plumbing and sewage systems all you like, sure. That’s an entire infrastructure dedicated to human shit. But when you flush do you really think about that? When you have to clean up your dog’s shit, or you’re noticing your next door neighbor hasn’t cleaned their dog’s shit off the back porch in a fucking week and it’s getting GROSS, or when you go to a nice park and notice someone couldn’t be bothered to pick up their dog’s shit and it spoils the moment, you’re definitely thinking about dog shit. And you’re thinking about not just the shit, but the entire social expectation built around it.

Some might argue there is a difference here between ‘dogshit’ and ‘dog shit’. One has a space, after all. Dogshit is an adjective and not a noun. But frankly I think claiming the two are unrelated is a dogshit take. We are specifically calling to mind a dog and its shit when we say this, whether we’re including the space or not. If you’re getting caught up in the semantics, then your opinion on the matter is TOTAL dogshit.

And don’t even get me started on horseshit, apeshit, OR batshit.

#taylor writes #<- ? is this a tag. is this a thing. who knows #anyway welcome to my TED talk #my posts

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666writingcafe · 8 months ago

Note

You can write that MI!MC becomes a baby because of Mephistopheles and Mephistopheles will have to take care of him without the demon brothers knowing but they discover it

The concept of Mephistopheles taking care of a baby version of MC sounds interesting, and I've been mulling it over in my head ever since I first saw this request. The main thing that I've been wondering is what Mephistopheles would have done to turn MC into a human, because it doesn't seem like the sort of thing he would do, accidentally or otherwise.

So, for the sake of fulfilling this request, I have changed who the culprit is. I will try to keep everything else the same.

Mephistopheles Becomes a Babysitter

Told From Mephistopheles's Point of View

I hate my life sometimes.

I literally just got settled into my room after a long, exhausting day of editing when someone loudly knocks on my front door. Couldn't they have waited at least five minutes?!

However, I cannot refuse whoever has decided to drop by. It would be incredibly rude, and someone in my position should remain polite and civil in the face of company.

So, a simple groan as I leave the comfort of my room will have to do.

Opening the door reveals nothing at first.

"Stupid teenagers," I grumble. For some reason, there's a group of them that enjoys the childish game "Ding Dong Ditch". They like to leave nasty surprises on people's porches. I've interviewed a few of their victims.

I'm about to shut the door when I hear the sound of cooing. Looking down, I'm greeted with the sight of a...

Baby carrier?!

I swear, if those kids decided to steal someone's literal child...

I kneel down to take a closer look at the baby inside. His eyes light up when he sees me, implying that I don't scare him. Odd. Usually babies don't like strangers.

Wait.

Why does he look familiar?

The baby wraps his hand around the envelope resting on top of him, bringing my attention to it.

"Do you mind if I have it?" I ask. Surprisingly, he lets go. It's as if he understood what I was saying, which doesn't make any sense. He appears too young to have that level of comprehension.

I carefully open the envelope and take out the note inside.

Mephisty,

I hope you don't mind receiving this delivery. I didn't know who else to turn to, since everyone else that comes to mind would turn me in right away. This is the result of an experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong, and I need time to look for an antidote. I promise I will pay you back for your time.

-S

"Dammit, Solomon," I mutter. Even if he didn't sign the letter, I would have known it was from him. He's the only one that calls me "Mephisty", because in his words, it rhymes with "bestie".

For the record, we are nowhere near besties.

Looking back at the baby, everything clicks.

This isn't just any old baby.

No.

"I keep telling you to limit your time with him, but you never listen." MC narrows his eyes in an attempt to glare at me. It honestly looks like he's seconds away from pooping himself.

At least he still understands what I'm saying. If he didn't, this would be a lot more difficult for me to manage.

"Alright then," I sigh, picking up the carrier and taking it inside. "You know, you're lucky I helped take care of my brother when he was your age." MC blows a raspberry at me in response.

Couldn't Solomon have at least gotten rid of MC's attitude?

~~~

A week goes by without much incident, which is pretty par for the course. Those brothers get so wrapped up in their own drama that they often fail to pay attention to the world around them, so they probably haven't noticed that their beloved MC has disappeared.

Speaking of MC, he's quite the handful. I understand that he's annoyed at Solomon--I am, too--but I wish he didn't take that out on me. I'm not the one that turned him into a baby.

Then again, MC and I have never had the best relationship, so perhaps their behavior is to be expected. I can't help but be wary of him. The amount of power he has is dangerous, and while he hasn't done anything overly nefarious with it so far, I still have my concerns. MC's still human, after all, and power tends to corrupt humans. And this isn't me being prejudiced against humans or anything like that; I'm merely citing material. There's been so many incidents over humankind's existence that it spans several volumes of books. And those just contain the more notable cases.

But MC is more manageable in this form. I mean, how much damage can a baby do to the Devildom, really? And I'm not talking physical damage, because I know babies enjoy breaking things.

Especially this one.

Currently, however, he's allowing me to hold him so that I can ensure that they get rid of any excess air in their stomach.

"Easy does it," I murmur to him. After a few minutes, I feel the towel on my shoulder get wet.

"There you go. Good job." I adjust how I'm holding MC so that they can see my face. "Do you want me to read you a story?" A sharp, disapproving noise.

"Okay, not that. How about listening to music?" A brief pause, and then another shriek.

"Playtime?" MC rejects the idea, opting instead to reach out towards my face.

"Do you want me to keep holding you?" Finally, a satisfied noise. Thankfully I don't have anything major happening anytime soon, because when MC wants to be held, he doesn't want to be put down for a couple hours at least.

"Those brothers aren't paying enough attention to you, are they?" Something that sounds like "nuh-uh". "Those bastards."

For some reason, that makes him giggle. I think that's the first time I've intentionally made him laugh. I hate to say it, but it's a bit heart-warming.

A loud knock at the door interrupts the moment. Unfortunately, I can't set MC down. Even if they don't start wailing, they'll get up to some mischief.

"Hopefully that's Solomon with the antidote," I tell him as I walk to the door. "Otherwise, this is going to be rather..." Opening the door reveals a rather unpleasant surprise.

"...awkward." Satan and I stare at each other for a few seconds. I forgot I lent him one of my spellbooks. Eventually he clears his throat.

"Well, I was beginning to wonder where MC went," he states.

"I didn't do this," I quickly reply.

"I know. This is Solomon's doing, no doubt."

"He was supposed to find an antidote, but I haven't heard anything from him since he dropped MC off." Satan sighs.

"He probably got sidetracked." MC shrieks, causing Satan to tilt his head. "Is it just me, or did MC--"

"Oh, he understands what we're saying. He just can't use words to communicate at the moment."

"So, a baby with the mind of an adult. Got it." Satan pauses. "We need to pay him a visit." Momentary angry babbling from MC.

"I know, MC, but you can't do much right now," I try to comfort him. He grumbles, and Satan widens his eyes in disbelief.

"You know what he's saying?" I shrug.

"Somewhat. There aren't any coherent words, obviously, but that doesn't stop him from trying to talk."

"Well, what did he say?"

"Something to the effect of 'I wanna kick his butt!'" Excited noises from MC. Satan smirks.

"And you've always said you've never been overly fond of MC." This prompts him to blow a raspberry at Satan, as if he's poking fun at him.

I take the book from Satan and set it and the towel down on a nearby table before meeting him outside.

"Do we tell the others about this little mishap?" I ask Satan as we begin walking towards Solomon's place.

"Not unless we have to. I don't want you to be yelled at for something that wasn't your fault." He's mainly referring to Lucifer, who loves to blame me for the tiniest inconveniences, but the rest of the brothers would probably freak out as well.

And honestly?

I don't want MC to be spooked by a sudden increase in noise. He'll start crying, and I'll have no choice but to tell them off for scaring him.

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me mephistopheles #obey me satan #obey me solomon

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allfortzu · 1 year ago

Text

a space just for you

-- dahyun / tzuyu. 1.8k, fluff. MEN DNI.

dahyun and tzuyu watch the first snow together.

tzuyu kneels down and fills kaya and butter's bowls.

she'd bought some new food for them to try. smiles when they start eating without hesitation.

she turns, scoots over to another bowl carefully, and fills a third.

today, she has ari with her.

"ari-ah," tzuyu coos.

ari is more sceptical of the new food, and he stares blankly back at tzuyu.

"I promise it's good," she scratches ari's head for good measure. "your mom told me you eat less than kaya and butter, but i'll give you more if you like it, okay?"

tzuyu thinks ari definitely understands, because he picks up a single kibble, nibbles on it, and seemingly decides he does like it enough to continue eating.

"okay, tell me when you want more," tzuyu whispers, because speaking too loud would disturb the dogs' peaceful dinner, and she pats ari's head again.

she squats there, arms folded over her knees, until they finish their food. it's winter now, cold outside, but her company is warm.

"when do you think your mom's coming home?" she asks ari. she hopes dahyun wore enough layers today.

ari can't reply audibly, but tzuyu's pretty sure she knows what he's thinking.

"i miss her already too," she sighs, pouts so ari can tell that she's sad. dogs probably need more obvious social cues. "want more food?"

ari licks her, wags his tail.

"okay!" tzuyu grins, pinching ari's cheeks excitedly. she's happy ari's warming up to her. maybe he can be friends with kaya and butter soon.

"momo recommended this brand to me. she said boo and dobby really like it," tzuyu says, just to fill the silence. she imagines its similar to how she enjoys watching tv while she eats. "i think it's good for digestion, like bananas? and it tastes good too, right? hopefully you poop later!"

it's a little funny, it is; obviously one-sided – none of her dogs can talk – but it's fun. tzuyu likes talking to her dogs. she also likes talking to ari, and ari reminds her of dahyun.

soft and shy, polite smiles, tiny enough to lay on her chest.

tzuyu smiles, tilts her head sideways. "you know, you're just like dahyun."

ah, why is she talking to a dog about her girlfriend?

ari yips; maybe because he's already finished his extra portion, maybe because he'd recognised dahyun's name. kaya and butter yip back, and they start having a little private doggy conversation.

"do you all think you could live together permanently?" tzuyu asks, finding it quite endearing. their tails are wagging excessively fast, ears pulled down. "i want dahyun to live with me, but does ari want that?"

ari does a little spin and runs past tzuyu.

tzuyu pouts a little, turns her head to watch where ari went. he's disappeared behind a corner where the apartment entrance is, and tzuyu hopes it's not because the idea of living with her is so repulsing that he instantly wants to leave.

she finds ari clawing at the door, and her heart drops a little. "hey, is my apartment that bad?"

she's about to bend down and pick ari up but then the door clicks open, and ari is forced to step a few steps back. tzuyu scoops him up before he gets hit by the opening door.

"ari!"

...dahyun.

ari scrambles to leave tzuyu's arms, his excitement palpable. dahyun sets her bag down and makes grubby hands, grinning wide as tzuyu hands the ball of fluff over.

dahyun's home.

she laughs softly when ari licks her cheeks, and tzuyu can't help but smile.

dahyun's laugh is light and airy, fills their quiet little home perfectly.

there's something about hearing dahyun in the house, having dahyun come home to her.

"how was your day?" tzuyu asks, slotting herself in between dahyun’s arms.

"better," dahyun says. she leans in to bring a palm to the curve of tzuyu's jaw, guiding tzuyu in. "now that i'm here."

she presses her lips to tzuyu's, soft and sweet, a routine that has naturally come to be.

tzuyu deepens the kiss, hand to the back of dahyun's neck.

she might be taller than dahyun, but when dahyun coaxes her in like that, her shoulders slump so easily, and she moves like jelly, going wherever dahyun wants her.

there's a warm and slow sensation all over after, a messy knot untangling from the point of dahyun's lips.

the beginnings of a grin blossom, and she's not sure if it's just her or dahyun, or both of them.

tzuyu giggles, the kiss settling in like a warm blanket. they part slightly for air, giggling, noses touching.

“i heard it’ll snow today,” dahyun murmurs. ari tries to join the conversation by burying his snout in between them. “wanna go see?”

“you don’t wanna rest?” tzuyu asks, leaning back to make space for ari, but also to check if dahyun looked tired.

“all recharged now,” dahyun grins. “let’s go?”

–

it isn��t snowing yet when they come out, but they don’t mind.

they’ve seen snow together many times; it was a staple tradition for couples, after all. they know they do it just for the excuse to make their dates a little more special.

ari, butter, and kaya have scurried off to the field, and five has become two.

they start on their usual stroll, a route they frequent. dahyun curls her arm around tzuyu's, snug and close, and sometime in between, she slips a hand into tzuyu's pocket.

tzuyu's fingers find their way through dahyun's, intertwining wordlessly. they've done this a million times.

“what did i say about getting a coat?” tzuyu jabs, teasing.

dahyun tightens her hold. “who says i’m not doing this to keep you warm?”

tzuyu smiles. “yeah?”

“i’m a romantic,” dahyun declares.

it’s cheesy, it’s charming; it’s such a dahyun thing to say even if she’s the one huddling up to tzuyu for warmth.

they lean into one another as they walk, shoulders bumping, and it’s hard not to laugh when they’re stumbling over each other like that, like shy schoolgirls who can’t hold a conversation without giggling, amused about nothing but each other’s presence.

“you know,” dahyun had said, the first time they’d watch the snow. “people say if you see the first snow with someone you like, you’ll fall in love.”

dahyun had her eyes on the night sky; she was simply sharing a fun fact.

tzuyu had her eyes on dahyun; she wasn’t much interested in anything else.

“really?” tzuyu replied.

“yeah,” dahyun said. “and you’ll be together forever.”

they’d watched the first snowflake fall that day, side by side by a windowsill. tzuyu had hoped what dahyun said was real.

“do you remember when we first did this?” tzuyu asks. “in high school, in your room.”

“yeah,” dahyun says, resting her head on tzuyu’s shoulder. “you know, i’d already started liking you then. i don’t know if you noticed.”

maybe if they were still in the beginnings of their relationship, tzuyu would be surprised. but now, after spending more of her life with dahyun than not, it seems such a small part in all their other, infinite instances of falling in love.

“i don’t think i did. i was kinda distracted looking at you,” tzuyu admits, then laughs. “is that why you told me about that saying? something about snow?” she knows exactly what saying it is, has never stopped thinking about it since dahyun told her, but she wants dahyun to say it again.

“if you see the first snow with someone you like," dahyun recalls. "you'll fall in love."

tzuyu feels something on the tip of her nose, and looks up at the sky. white speckles in the night, gliding downwards. snow falls slowly, dahyun watches with her.

"and you'll be together forever," tzuyu continues, watching dahyun. "do you think it's real?"

dahyun raises both her palms up, leaving tzuyu's hold. she catches a few snowflakes in them.

"i don't think there's any harm in believing in it," she says, and shows tzuyu what she's caught. "i mean, it worked for us."

tzuyu remembers what she'd told ari earlier today, i want dahyun to live with me.

wonders if it's the right time to ask, to drop the question now.

dahyun shivers, and she shakes the snowflakes off, quickly tucking herself into tzuyu's coat. tzuyu takes the opportunity to lay a kiss on dahyun's forehead, enveloping her in a hug.

"we're forever?" tzuyu asks. she knows they are, she just likes hearing dahyun say it.

"longer than forever," dahyun says. she knows tzuyu knows, but she says it because tzuyu likes it. "if i die from hypothermia right now, i'll haunt you in my grave."

tzuyu giggles; a perfectly dahyun answer, just how she likes.

snow continues falling, dahyun's hair powdered in crystalline white.

"should we go home now?" tzuyu suggests.

"let's stay like this for bit," dahyun mutters, voice muffled. she has her face buried in tzuyu's chest, hands wrapped around. it's perfectly warm, where they are right now.

tzuyu stays still for dahyun, presses her lips to the top of dahyun's head and lets the snow build around them. they're quiet for so long, she almost wonders if dahyun's fallen asleep in her arms.

it's the type of hug where they go completely pliant, fitted into each other snugly. tzuyu squeezes tightly, and she feels dahyun’s shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath, burrowing into the crook of tzuyu’s neck.

kaya, butter and ari have found their way over, licking at the snowflakes on their shoes.

“can i stay over tonight again?” dahyun mumbles after some time. “i… don’t want to drive in the snow.” she doesn’t part from tzuyu yet.

“you can stay over every night, if you want,” tzuyu says, gives dahyun another kiss on the crown of her head. “i think ari’s starting to like kaya and butter.”

“yeah,” dahyun agrees. “ari would miss kaya and butter too much.”

“and me,” tzuyu says. “i gave him really good food today, you know."

"careful,” dahyun jokes, snickering. “he might start liking you more than me."

"it's okay, don't be jealous," tzuyu teases. she nudges her nose gently into dahyun’s hair, thinks her girlfriend looks incredibly pretty under snowflakes. "i like you more than him."

"i'm honoured," dahyun laughs, full and bright.

she pulls back, presses her palms to tzuyu’s cheeks and squishes them together. dahyun grins, the edge of her lips rising until her cheekbones show, melting a little at the sight.

“cute,” she says.

she tilts her chin upwards, stands on the tips of her toes, and kisses tzuyu’s puckered lips softly.

people say if you see the first snow with someone you like, you’ll fall in love.

dahyun is perfectly warm despite the winter, tzuyu finds.

"let's go home now?” dahyun asks.

and you’ll be together forever.

“lets go home.”

love is home and love is warmth and love is silly smiles and raising pets together and missing each other when you're not together! what is love if not writing those same things over and over again and never tiring of it <3

thank you for reading! interactions appreciated very, very much :)

#twice imagines #dahyun x tzuyu #twice fluff #kim dahyun #chou tzuyu #datzu #title: doughnut by twice #yeah zero plot in this i just wanted to write abt them being lovey dovey youre right!#that is not a crime #yes dahyun is a dog mom and we dont talk abt it enough!!!#twice fics

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dilf-rights-activist · 1 year ago

Text

Another Life: part 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gender neutral reader, Platonic Hobie Brown & reader

Summary: A sad Miguel O’Hara returns to run his company with slumped shoulders and a cloud over his head. In a somewhat lame attempt to lift his spirits, his assistant, Lyla, runs to a local cafe to get the office some drinks, where she meets a kind barista with a stained apron and tired eyes. Or, the one where you drag your exhausted corpse to your second job to meet Lyla, only to find out her boss had recently been dumped. After work, you settle into the floor of your cozy apartment with your eccentric roommate: one Hobie Brown.

Word count: 3.7k

Content: eventual sugar daddy AU, coffee shop au, no use of (y/n), the slowest of burns (we’re not even gathering fire wood yet), sfw, Hobie being cool, descriptions of financial hardship, swearing, aged up Hobie

AO3 part 1 part 3 part 4

Miguel’s office chair creaked dangerously when he leaned back and breathed out a large sigh. The conference call had been done for ten minutes now, and he was still feeling a little drowsy from his early morning. He looked out his office window just in time to see Jessica scrub a hand over her face, eyes droopy and tired looking. He watched as she stood up and stretched her lower back to release the tension that’s been building there. She sighed and rested a delicate hand on her round belly, rubbing soothing circles before sitting back down again. Miguel has been urging her to take her maternity leave early, but she refuses him every time, stating that he could never survive without her. This wasn’t entirely true but still. Miguel frowned to himself before straightening up at the knock at his door.

“Miguel?” came a high-pitched voice on the other side of the wood.

“Yes?”

The door opened slowly to reveal a young, freckled face smiling brightly at him. “Hey, Miguel! I have the reports you wanted.”

Miguel smiled at his assistant and held out his hand to receive them. “Thanks, Lyla.”

“You got it.” Lyla was a student at Columbia that works part time as Miguel’s assistant. Her cheerful demeanor easily lifted those around her. If he was being honest, he thinks Lyla goofed off a little too much, but she was the best assistant he’s had in a decade. She was quick as a whip, and helped him with everything from managing his allergies to figuring out the best energy source for his nano tech. Plus, Lyla was the only one who could handle him when he was sleep deprived and hangry (which was all the time).

The brunette fell silent as he looked down at the reports in his hands, not really paying enough attention to process any of the words he read.

“Hey, Miguel?”

He startled and looked up at Lyla, she was still here? He must have really been out of it.

“Yeah?”

Lyla’s big brown eyes peered at him pensively before sighing through her nose “You doing okay, boss?” Her glossy pink lips were pulled into a small frown. “You look…tired. Like, way more than usual.”

Miguel huffed softly and blew a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Alright, One: I am tired. And Two:” He looked at her sternly, pointing a strong finger to emphasize his point. “I am fine.” He said a little too quickly. Lyla rolled her eyes and groaned dramatically.

“C’mon, Miguel! You can tell me!” She walked up to his heavy desk and placed both hands atop its smooth surface. “What? Did the Mets lose a game?”

“The season is over-“

“A pigeon poop on your Porsche?”

“No-“

“Did Tony call you ‘Dark Garfield’ again?”

“No!”

“You get dumped?”

Miguel’s jaw shut promptly and he pursed his lips into a tight sneer. He looked at his grinning assistant, who had clearly said that as a joke. She blinked a couple times at his silence, slowly picking up her hands from his desk as she straightened a little.

“Oh shit. Really?” She said softly, almost feeling bad for bringing it up so casually. “I’m…sorry to hear that.”

The large man let out a soft laugh and waved his hand in the air. “It’s fine, Lyla. Really, it is.” he sighed, was he trying to convince Lyla or himself?

The girl looked at her sneakers and shuffled awkwardly for a second, “Is there anything I can do for you? Cancel your appointments? Get you coffee?”

Miguel visibly perked up at that. “Yeah, that would be great, actually. There’s actually a specific place I’d like you to go to…”

---

A heavy sigh left your lips as you bent forward and leaned onto the counter in front of you, limbs going unpleasantly numb from overuse. You stayed there for a couple moments, contemplating just how you let your life get to this particularly pathetic point. Peter was right, the morning rush had been bad. Exhausted students and working class New Yorkers alike came in by the truck load, shooting order after order at you and your boss with little sympathy.

You glanced down at Peter, who was currently squatting behind the counter and wolfing down a croissant like his life depended on it.

“Slow down or you’re gonna choke, stupid.”

The brunette looked at you like a man possessed. “Shut up! I haven’t eaten anything today!”

You laughed softly and flexed your fingers, wincing as they cracked and popped. “Christ, I’m tired. And it’s only,” you glanced at your watch and held back a groan. “8 am.”

Peter looked at you and wiped the crumbs off of his frowning face. “You sleep any last night?”

“Only the usual four hours.” you grimaced and put your head down again. “Some dude came in last minute to drink last night.”

“Damn.” Peter sighed from his place on the floor. “I wish I could help somehow. I’d do anything for you, y’know.”

You smiled and peeked at him through your arms. You met Peter during your second year of college. He remembered you frequenting his cafe as a freshman to fuel up on caffeine and use his Wi-Fi. He always welcomed you with ease (and not just because you were a good tipper). Eventually, he offered you a job, and you’ve been working with him ever since. You opened your mouth to say something before the bell at the door chimed through the cafe, signifying that someone walked in.

“Customers!” Peter almost shrieked, tucking more into himself on the floor. “Don’t let them see me! I’m not here!”

So much for doing anything for you!

You shot him a look before straightening up to see a girl with a large white coat and fluffy brown hair peer up at the chalkboard menu above you.

“Hey, welcome in.” you smiled and lightly kicked Peter’s side behind the counter. The quiet “Ow!” wasn’t heard by the girl in front of you as her large eyes darted from her phone to the menu at an alarming rate.

“Hi!”

After exchanging pleasantries you nodded as she relayed her lengthy order, talking at 100 words a minute.

Her hazel eyes blinked behind her heart shaped lenses. “Sorry for the large order! These are for my office.”

“It’s no problem!” You lied through your teeth. “What’s your name?”

“Lyla.”

“Lieee-Luh.” you repeated slowly you wrote her name on the empty cups before you, making sure to draw little hearts on her’s. “Got it! I’ll have these out in a little bit.” Lyla gave you a million watt smile and nodded eagerly, making his way to the end of the bar where her drinks were to be deposited. You went through the motions of drink making with ease, humming lightly to yourself to keep you focused. You looked at Peter, who has yet to move from his position on the floor. You flipped him off quickly and capped Lyla’s drinks, ignoring the over dramatic look of hurt the musician shot you.

“Thank you so much,” Lyla looked at you from across the bar and smiled.

“It’s really no problem, it’s literally my job.”

“Yeah, but still…” she chuckled to herself. “I think this’ll really help.”

That caught your attention and you looked up from the carmel drizzle you were working on. “Yeah? With what?”

A small crease appeared between Lyla’s worried brows as she smiled sadly. “My boss got dumped yesterday.” You pulled a face, Yikes, you thought, not a good season for the lovers. Your mind immediately drifted to the heart broken man that came into the restaurant last night. His entire demeanor was depressed with loneliness, even his hair seemed to droop slightly in sadness. You didn’t know the man very well, but you could tell that he was a person who would go out of his way to help someone, someone that wouldn’t hesitate to do the right thing. You hoped he was okay.

“Oh…” you started lamely, because how the fuck were you supposed to respond? “That sucks.” Lyla’s head snapped up at your abrupt reply. You blinked, realizing that you must have been more tired than you thought because what the fuck? You can’t talk to customers like that! You pressed your lips together and quickly thought of an apology. “I’m-”

“It does suck, right?” She smiled lopsidedly and let out a laugh. You breathed out a sigh, relieved that she wasn’t going to write Aunt May a strongly worded letter or trash the cafe on Yelp. You finished the rest of the drinks with ease, handing Lyla her order in two cup holders.

“Thanks a bunch!” She took his order with a grin and began to turn towards the exit.

“Ah, wait one second!” You said before sidestepping a still squatting Peter (who had somehow gotten another croissant) to quickly shove a few pastries into two paper bags. You stood there in thought for a second before grabbing a sharpie from the cash register, scribbling something on one of them.

“Thank you for being patient with me.” you said, handing Lyla the baked goods. “One of those is for you, good luck at the office!”

If you thought the girl’s smile was blinding before it really had nothing on her expression now. “Really?”

“For sure.”

Lyla’s heart shrouded eyes blinked at you for a moment, as if studying you. Her pink lips spread into a grin before turning to you fully. “What’s your name?”

You smiled back at her and gave her your name as you dusted your hands on your apron. “The other one is for your boss, tell them to take it easy, okay?”

---

Miguel stared at the city’s activity below him from his office window. People milled about on the sidewalk below, interacting with one another throughout their day. The large man took a bite out of his scone thoughtfully, admiring the subtle vanilla flavor. Lyla came in with his coffee order not too long ago, bringing a small pastry bag as a surprise. He said that a nice barista gave it to him, ordering her to tell him to “take it easy”. Miguel accepted the treats gratefully, promising Lyla that he was fine (really, he was).

Probably.

He popped the last of the scone in his mouth and moved to toss the bag in the trash before something caught his eye. Looking at the pastry bag more carefully, he could see that the barista left him a small note.

Everything’s gonna be okay. If it’s not okay, that’s okay too.

Miguel dusted his crummy mouth as he stared at the piece of paper, chuckling softly to himself. The barista also drew him a cute little bunny giving him a thumbs up in encouragement.

The brunette’s thick brows knitted as he carefully tore his little note away from the rest of the bag. Miguel placed the note in one of his desk drawers after making sure that there were no remaining crumbs sticking to it and threw the rest away (he hated ants).

“Looks like I’ve got someone looking out for me.”

---

You tapped your pencil against the page in front of you in annoyance and took a large sip of your tea. You started doing your homework over an hour ago and barely made any progress due to its difficulty. You huffed, recalling just how little you paid attention in class due to always falling asleep.

You stared at the equations in front of you, and they glared back just as intensely. You looked up from your staring contest to glance at your roommate, Hobie, who was humming quietly to himself as he created the setlist for his next show. You met Hobie when you first moved to the city for school. He was born in Camden Town, London, and was literally the coolest person you have ever met. He came to New York to work on his music and study fashion. His time was split between that, antagonizing fascists, being a part-time runway model, and working at the bar with you. You saw him sneaking shots for both himself and some of his regulars, but never told a soul. You knew Hobie hated working there, hated being a cog in the system, but he had bills to pay (you both did). The two of you shared a cozy space nestled in the center of New York City’s ChinaTown, right below the smog covered stars, and right above Timmy Chan’s Hong Kong Style Dim Sum (a favorite lunch time spot you frequented together).

“Hey, Hobie. Could you help me a little?”

He looked up from his notes, pen cap stuck in between his lips and grinned.

”Yeah, sure. What is it?”

You smiled gratefully, picking up the page and walking over to him. You crossed your legs and sat on the floor at his side as his eyes skimmed the page, nodding as he read along.

“You daft?” Hobie elbowed your side gently. “Integral calculus? This is bright and breezy.”

You looked up at his big brown eyes and pouted. “I’ve been falling asleep in class.” you said with a huff. Hobie’s pierced brows creased with concern at this, shuffling slightly to wrap an arm around you.

“Again?”

“Again.” you sighed. You looked to the ground, idly picking at the fraying carpet you two sat on. You knew Hobie worried about you and how hard you’ve been pushing yourself. He could see how the stress from work and school were affecting your health and it was beginning to concern him.

“Y’right?”

You looked up at him wryly, bringing a hand up to flick his shoulder lightly.

“I’m alright.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Hobie squinted at you before turning back to the page in his hands, deciding to drop the subject for now. “Whatever. You’d tell me otherwise, yeah?”

You leaned on his shoulder and nuzzled his bicep playfully, yawning obnoxiously before saying, “Of course.”

He gazed upon your drooping form, pursing his lips. “You said you only hit the sack for, what? Four hours?”

“Just about, yeah.”

Hobie huffed and straightened out the piece of paper in his hands. “Right, some dick walked in right before closing and demanded to be served.”

“He wasn’t a dick he was just…” you adjusted yourself on his shoulder. “Sad.”

“A sad dick?”

“No!” you smacked him lightly and you could feel yourself shake with the rumble of Hobie’s chest as he chuckled warmly. You thought about the man that came into your life the other night, it amazed you how someone so large managed to look so small.

“He just got dumped.”

“Bliiiiimey.” He pulled a face.

“That’s what I said!”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, not that exactly!” You huffed out a sigh. “He looked like a kicked puppy. Which is hilarious, because the man is like a building with feet.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! His arms are like tree trunks! I think he could kill me with a flick of his wrist.” You shook Hobie’s lean arm lightly to illustrate your point. “He just looked so...hurt. And he just, like, accepted it, y’know? Like he’s been hurt like this before.” you blinked and lowered your eyes, hugging Hobie’s arm a little tighter. “I hope he’s okay.”

Dark eyes shifted from the paper and onto the top of your head, Hobie huffed out a small laugh. “Aw, you fancy him.”

You pulled back from your friend’s arm sharply and gaped up at him. “I do not!” Fancy him? You only just met the guy and knew nothing about him. Fancy him!

Hobie threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. “You do!”

“I don’t, I just-“ you huffed out a breath and paused to collect your thoughts. “I dunno, there was just something…about him, y’know? He seemed like someone who had a lot to offer the world, to offer someone. He looked like he had given up. Seeing him crushed like that just doesn’t sit right with me.”

He side eyed you skeptically and let out a sigh through his nose. You were always pushing yourself so hard, always putting others first (often at a detriment to yourself). Between the two (sometimes three) jobs and school, he had no idea how you were functioning. Hobie grimaced, thinking about the multiple occasions where you were so overwhelmed you sat on the floor eating (his) instant noodles while crying, too stressed to even tell him what was wrong. Other times, he’d go days without seeing you as you’d lock yourself in your apartment to focus on schoolwork, scaring him half to death with your lack of response. He physically kicked in the door of your room only to find you half dead and twitchy in your hyper-focused state. He never wanted to see you like that again.

“Yeah, well” he shrugged and you whined as the movement jostled you on his bicep. “Just don’t bugger off with your fit bev and leave me with your rent.” You laughed softly and pressed your cheek into his arm, smiling against it.

“I could never, Hobie.”

You assumed he accepted your response, as he nodded and turned his attention back to your math homework.”Right, the integral of 2xd is x squared, yeah? You plug that in here at the top and subtract the bottom.”

You breathed deeply and closed your eyes, already feeling yourself start to doze off again. You knew you should be paying attention, but you were too content with snuggling up to Hobie’s arm for some (not so) well deserved sleep.

“Thirteen squared is 169, minus ten squared is…Oi. Oi, you listenin’? Do your homework!” he jostled you gently.

“Yeah...of course…” you mumbled quietly.

Hobie looked down at you with a frown, already knowing that any attempt he made at waking you would be in vain. He sighed as he picked up his pen from its abandoned spot on the floor, deciding to finish your homework for you.

“Hopefully I can mimic your rubbish handwriting.” he sighed.

“Y’can’t do math homework in pen,” you mumbled.

“I don’t believe in conformity.” He sniffed before twirling the pen in his fingers. He tenaciously began to scribble perfect arithmetic on your page, stopping only to smile when you let out a sleepy “thanks” against his arm.

“Anytime, love.”

---

The long days turned into longer weeks as time went by. Miguel went through the motions of his position of CEO with relative ease, meticulously leading his company to further success.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Large shoulders sagged as Miguel sighed into the palms of his hands before peeking through his fingers to blearily peer at the clock in his desktop monitor.

8:43 pm

Jesus Christ, was it already that late? The brunette looked up through his office windows to find that yes, it really was that late, as the building’s lights had shut off and everyone had long gone home. Miguel has since changed into more comfortable clothing to ease him into his work night. The soft material of his oversized gray hoodie combined with the relaxed fit of his favorite pair of loose joggers were the perfect combination for his frequent occasional over night stays in the office. The man let out a yawn as he stretched his arms high above his head before rising from his chair, ready to call it a day. Grabbing his coat and phone, Miguel left the building, letting the automatic doors lock behind him with a soft click.

The brunette inhaled the Autumn air with a light hum before beginning his commute back to his apartment, occasionally picking up litter as he went because why not. He listened to the sounds of the bustling city; the distant sirens, the blaring music from strangers’ headphones as they walked past, the clinking of ceramic in cozy cafes.

Oh. Miguel slowed his stride to a stop in front of a small coffee shop lit warmly within, the same shop he sent Lyla on a coffee run to. Turning fully to face the entrance, the brunette spotted the same nice looking man he saw the first time he laid eyes on the shop. Miguel checked his watch to glance at the time before walking through the wooden door that led to the sweet smelling cafe.

Notes: I deadass spent over an hour learning about the English Cockney accent and have two (2) tabs open with English to Cockney translators. If anyone has any suggestions on how I can make Hobie sound more in character PLEASE let me know. Part of me wants to really lean into the rhyming slang, but I’m afraid no one will be able to understand him (but that’s, like, part of his character right?), he’s in his early twenties here.

The answer to the equation Hobie was solving is 69 lol

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fic #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x you #across the spiderverse fanfiction #sugar daddy au #coffee shop au #bar/pub au #platonic Hobie brown #i hate tagging these like its humiliating lmao #writing

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glazedsnail · 2 months ago

Text

Fanfic bells are ringing

The usual o>

Misery Loved Company

ShanexOCFarmer (♀️) 18+ / swear words/substance misuse/explicit/suicide ideation/mention of abuse/Blood/injury

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Lemme remind y'all this started as a fluff piece of a few paragraph. I have no self control.

I think this part's a tad long I didn't know where to cut it, and there's like 3 lines for Shane in all of it soooo... Anyway.

(Ya know it's funny cause I barely ever swear IRL and those two swears like sailors, I mean I know Fern does, but I'm pretty certain Shane's the type to swear All The Frigging Time)

That's my current (and only) farmer Poppy in bed with her husband and their cat Cauliflower. I've not played the game since I started writing this fic BECAUSE THE SAD CHICKEN MAN IS RULING MY LIFE.

But it's fine I'm an out of work drop out, I'm government property and I chose to write, so we're all good.

Anyway. Enjoy!

The sun stings me in the eye. I wake up on the dirty floor. It takes me a while to realise that the weight on my body is from my chickens, who clearly find my lifeless body comfortable to perch on. I shoo them off and try to sit up. My head is turning the chicken coop upside down, I feel I’m going to be sick. I’m freezing, and dirty. My whole body aches. Dry mud, dirt, hay, bird poop, all over my face. I wipe as much as I can with the water left from the trough. I wish I was in one of those stories where I’d wake up hungover and not remember anything. But I remember everything. Ugh. I stand up, Shane’s hoodie falls from my shoulders. I shudder, but pick it up nonetheless and head out. The sun is quite high and bright. I slept through all of my morning chores. The sheep are loudly braying for their breakfast. I should probably do that first. The ending summer wind sends chills on my bare shoulders. I have no other option but to wear his stupid Joja hoodie. I lazily and quite mechanically take care of my farm, as far as my strength lets me. All along my brain is simply preoccupied by what happened the day before. Simultaneously wanting to forget, and wanting to understand, confused and… oddly delighted by the eventful evening. Lying to myself wouldn’t help anything. I had a great evening. I said so many stupid things. It’s no wonder he took off after having…what he wanted? I have a hard time depicting Shane that way. But at the same time, the facts are what they are. I can’t say I blame him, he saw his opportunity and took it, given how freely I just handed it to him anyway. Cause I’m just a stupid, stupid, stupid whore!!

I take a deep breath. What was my therapist constantly saying? What would a healthy adult say in these times. A healthy adult would say that I’m a stupid whore. No point sugar coating it. Mh. The village suicidal whore. I’m upstaging Shane in so many ways. Another deep breath. Retrace my steps, our steps. I said “Hi, I’m Fern”, he said “I don’t know you, why are you talking to me”. From then I just stopped talking to him. Before I tried again, and I said “Rough day at the farm, wanna share a beer?” And he said “Fuck off.”. So far, perfectly healthy. Perfectly healthy. I didn’t want anything with him at the time, per se. Marnie did warn me he’d eventually warm up to me, I think. Even then, after that horrible brush off at the saloon I completely gave up. Who wouldn’t? Why would I put any kind of effort when I’d just move in, and others were much friendlier to me. It can’t just be that damages attract damages, this is ridiculous. We don’t have super sense alerting us of other people's misadventures. If we did, we’d be much nicer, I believe. What was so enticing back then. Why did a simple glimpse of his kindness make me lose all common sense and make me seek approval from someone like him? He did warm up to me, and I got to see his smile, sometimes I’d be the one making him smile.

I loved making him smile. And laugh. What happened. What happened that all of a sudden he had to disappear like that. I’m not a fool, I know exactly what it is. He didn’t want any of that teenage lovey dovey thing we had going on before last night. Why would he, a grown ass man, want to wait more than one date to get to the goods. I’m a grown ass woman, I’ve seen them all. I still gave it to him on a silver platter. I wanted him though. I did. I do. And why would he want me anyway?

I shrug. Can’t be that he’s just a man, that’d be too easy. I really fell for him, didn’t I? Like the big ass loser I am. Big breath. Talking about myself like that won’t help. What would a healthy adult say I don’t know Shannon I don’t know! If I knew I wouldn’t be in your office now would I! Ok, I’m attacking my therapist now. Everything’s fine. Take a deep breath.

A long bleat reaches my ear. I jump.

One of my sheep is nibbling on my ear, trying to get my attention. My laps are dripping with milk. I’ve been trying to feed my lamb but I obviously let the lamb go. I didn’t even realise that damn lamb was gone. Deep in my thoughts, raging at myself and myself alone. I thought chores were supposed to keep the bad thoughts at bay.

I finally walk back to the house. The blanket and Shane’s backpack are not there anymore, and my basket has neatly been put away under the porch. I scoff. All I want is a shower and my bed.

It seems someone’s been knocking at my door for the last ten minutes. While I applaud their insistence, my killing headache and EXHAUSTED soul just want to go on a rampage. They won’t leave.

I get out of my warm, albeit lonely, bed and stagger towards the door, holding my head. I barely open the door than Marnie waltzes in.

‘Oh Fern, thank Yoba you’re there. I was almost going to call Clint to break the door down. We need to talk. Come on sit down I’m going to make us some tea. I’m relieved to find you there in one piece. Go on have a sit.’

She runs all over my kitchen, filling the kettle, placing it on the hob. She even grabs two mugs she throws on the table. I sneakily grab the one that is mine to put in front of me. They’re both mine, but this one in particular is mine. She dumps some of my loose leaf tea in a pot and drops boiling water on top of it. All I can think is how stupidly bitter this drink is going to be. She talks fast, moves fast. I can barely keep up, my head turns on itself trying to follow her movement around my kitchen.

And she finally sits down. ‘I spoke with Shane’ She starts. Figures. ‘When you two started to get closer I was pretty excited.’ She strains the leaves above our mugs. I thank her and wrap my fingers around the warmth. She continues.

‘I was hopeful you’d help him get straight.’ She takes a sip. ‘Oh this is ghastly. Do you have anything else?’ I painfully stand up, head pounding. I’m so tired. I look into the fridge and grab the bottle Emily gave me last night, for my date with Shane. I want to slap myself so badly.

I decide against it and bring the bottle along with two glasses.

‘Oh, strawberry juice! That’ll do. Thank you. Anyway. Shane’s been helping much more around the ranch, been around for Jas more too. And I think I’ve got you to thank.’

I shake my head and stop pouring the juice, furrowing my eyebrows. ‘Marnie no, you’ve got it all wrong.’

‘I know, I know. Nevertheless! Oh that’s good juice. Like I was saying, I wasn’t at all against the idea of you two. But, things have been raised and I don’t think it’s a good idea anymore.’

‘Pardon?’

‘You, and Shane.’

I want to correct her but she continues.

‘I know you’ve got a good heart, Fern. We all do. But he’s been working so hard on himself, what with the therapy and all. So, until you’re more stable’

‘Pardon?!’ I repeat.

‘Oh Fern please don’t take it too hard. I just want Shane to be able to reach his full potential, and he can’t do it with’

‘With what?’

‘People like you pulling him down.’

I’m not sure I heard her right. I’m going to be sick.

‘People like me?’

‘I do hope you’ll find the proper people to help you’

‘The proper people? To help me?!’

‘You know, with your’ she lowers her voice ‘ suicidal shenanigans.’

She could have been throwing her hands at my throat the result would have been the same. I feel like I can hardly breathe. White noise takes over my ears. I try to cover my face in my hand to recover from the blurriness but I meet a bump on my forehead.

‘Who told you that?’ I stupidly ask, knowing fully well Shane’s the only one who’s been told. I feel sick. Was it the first thing he told his aunt after creeping back in the early morning? I feel incredibly stupid, used, again.

‘Fern, it does not matter. I know you care for him. But you’re an influence he can do without.’

I take her words without flinching. Or so I hope I looked that way.

‘Shane is a grown man, Marnie. I think he can make his own decisions.’

‘I know Fern but’

‘Besides, he already made his choice. So you can keep your knickers untwisted.’

She stands up, not having any of it.

‘Is that why you’re wearing his clothes?’

I look down. Damn. Credibility is gone. I slept with his hoodie back on like an idiotic enamoured teenager. I hate myself. I remove it and put it on the table, grabbing my full glass and Marnie’s empty one. ‘He’s expecting it back’ I say coldly ‘Just take it and go’

‘Fern, you have to understand.’

‘Just go, Marnie. Please.’

‘I know it hurts’

‘I said GO!’ I scream, smashing the glasses against the mug filled with still boiling water.

She doesn’t move. She’s seen them all. The mother hen. As she walks to the door she says in a soft motherly voice.

‘In the long run, you’ll see that it’s better. For both of you.’

She disappears behind the door. I’m about to collapse but I can only scream at the boiling water covering my hand and arm. I run to the sink and try to get the juice but it just keeps pouring. Each rub against my skin is excruciatingly painful. I realise it’s not juice.

‘Crap crap crap crap’ I lift my arm up, trying to stop the bleeding.

My tears blur the little vision I have left. I can’t find my first aid kit. No gauze, no disinfectant. What type of farm is this! I put blood everywhere trying to find help, my kitchen looks like a crime scene. I attempt the cold water again but in vain, the blood just keeps gushing out. I feel faint. I grab a kitchen towel and wrap it around the gashes on my arm and hand. I try to squeeze as much as I can, thinking I can use it as a tourniquet.

I am not a sensible, nor clever woman.

No, I need help. I need to go to the hospital. I manage to turn the door, spreading blood all over the knob. Carrying my injured arm I take a deep breath and head out. Fainting on the way would be so embarrassing. Please, I swear to Yoba, let me at least reach the clinic.

I stumble on a fence. Shit, no food, no sleep, and blood loss really take it out of you. I try with all my remaining strength not to collapse. I do not want to collapse. Do not want to be found. Do not want to be saved. Please, please, please.

‘Miss Fern!’

Fuck.

I turn around with a smile. Penny is walking with Vincent and Jas.

‘Fern, hello. I was showing them mom’s bus and…Oh dear Lord Fern are you ok? You’re pale as a ghost!’

‘Hi Penny, kids, hi. Penny, please take the kids away.’

‘What’s happening Miss Penny?’

‘Vincent quick go get some help.’

He doesn’t even wait for me to protest that he’s gone like a bullet. Penny attempts to carry me up from the fence. ‘I’m going to Harvey’s’ I manage to say through my teeth. Sweat is dripping on my forehead.

‘Miss Fern? Miss Penny?’

Jas is looking at us one after the other, her eyes slowly swelling up with tears. She’s panicking.

‘Jas, I’m fine, look at me. I’m fine, look.’ I smile, but she’s not believing me one bit. Penny’s helping me as much as her delicate frame can. I feel myself slowly slip. Jas is now properly crying.

‘I’m sorry’ I say, not particularly knowing why.

Why did I decide to survive all of a sudden.

Vincent comes back with the grocer and his wife. Penny hands me over to Pierre and turns her attention back to the kids.

Once in front of the clinic, Caroline fiercely knocks on the door. I’m terrified that all the noise is going to make more villagers appear to watch the show. I don’t need this. Maru opens the door to the clinic and lets Pierre drag me to an empty bed.

‘Where’s Harvey?’ Asks Caroline.

‘He was just heading out, I think he’s at the supermarket.’

‘Are you kidding me?!’

‘Pierre! This is hardly the moment! I’ll go fetch him.’

‘What happened?’

Pierre redirects Maru to Penny who’s still trying to calm the kids.

‘We were walking back to town with Vincent and Jas and she was just…planted on a fence, holding her hand.’

I can feel Maru unwrapping my arm.

‘Oh my.’

‘Is Miss Fern going to be ok?’

‘Penny please get the kids out. It looks like she’s lost a lot of blood. Did you see her fall at all? There’s a consequent hematoma on her forehead.’

‘No, this is how we found her.’

‘Miss Penny’

‘The kids out, NOW. Fern, can you hear me?’

She blinds my face with her small light, trying to get a reaction out of me. I nod. Pierre is pushing the kids and Penny out of the room. Maru is hooking me up to a bunch of stuff and gently cleans my arm.

‘How did that happen?’

‘I broke a glass.’

‘Fern!’

Shit not his voice.

‘Shane you can’t be there!’

‘Sorry, he raced so fast in front of me I could barely keep up. Thank you Maru, I’ll take it from here.’

‘Fern, can you hear me?’

‘She’ll need stitches. I managed to stop the bleeding but I’m concerned about the hematoma on her forehead.’

‘The bleeding?’

‘Shane. Please!’ Harvey’s patience starts to wear thin.

I can barely make out Shane’s ridiculous Joja mart uniform. He tries to grab my arm.

‘Fern, what did you do?!’

‘You can come back when we’re done with her but now you’ve got to LEAVE!’

The doctor forcefully shows Shane the door. He resists but Harvey is having none of it.

I’m actually relieved that he’s gone.

#writing #fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley #stardew valley shane #sad chicken man #sdv #sdv shane #failed writer #barely any shane in this shane fic

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