#turned out to be a dry piece of toast?
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“𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?” | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
synopsis: you have a valentine’s date tomorrow and you’re somewhat excited for it. but there’s just one thing you’re unsure about…thankfully your trusted roommate can help. right?
tags: roommate au! (Here we go again), smut, 18+, male masturbation, mutual pining, these mfs are in DENIAL smh, angsty ishhhh
taglist: @ghost-lantern @mreowmoreww @maomaimao @ahano
PART TWO. (click here for part one.)
“I think you’re lying to me.”
Miguel glances up at you from the dining table that he’s sitting at, currently eating a bowl of cereal. You’re standing opposite him, buttering a seemingly burnt piece of toast.
“Hmm?”
“I think you’re lying to me about not having a valentine’s date.”
Miguel’s eyes move back down to stare at his bowl, spoon mindlessly poking at the cereal but he’s not eating. He pauses for a few seconds, thinking over your words.
“What makes you think that?”
“You?” You point at him with your butter knife. “The Miguel O’Hara, the well-known ladies’ man has not one date tonight? Not a single one out of the countless ladies that he’s been with? Suspicious.”
“Looks like it.” he mumbles. You notice that his tone is dry. Refusing to play along with your teasing.
“See, I don’t believe it. Something’s up, you’re acting…weird.”
It’s ironic you say that. You have no right to judge him on his behavior. After all, you did suck him off on the couch last night. This morning, neither of you had made an attempt to discuss what had happened last night. You acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you, as if you had just gone to bed for an early night.
As for Miguel, it was a whole different story. Unbeknownst to you, he didn’t get any sleep that night. Tossing and turning, his cock aching at the thought of you. Each and every time that he tried to close his eyes, all he could picture was you between his thighs.
It was that look. That look you had in your eye, it was full of hunger and desire. It was a look that proudly told him that all you had wanted to do was to make him feel good.
Reminiscing on this, guilt ran through his bloodstream like poison, questions running through his mind.
Why didn’t he ask you to be his valentine’s sooner? Why didn’t he confess there and then? Why did he have to wait so long to make a move? Do you feel the same as him? Do you feel as if your soul is eating you from the inside out, tempting you to confess how you really feel? If he did confess, would you have canceled all your plans for him? Or would you act like how you’re acting now, pretending that nothing happened?
“I’m not being weird. I’m tired.” He mumbles, still poking at his cereal. In his mind he can already hear the voice of his mother berating him for it.
“Right.” you say, unable to think of anything more to say. Normally, it’s easier than this to start off playful banter between the two of you but you can sense Miguel’s energy was off.
This was almost reminiscent of your earlier days after moving in. How you both exchanged awkwardness and empty conversations that resulted from who's turn it was to take out the trash and the weather forecast.
You figure that perhaps Valentine's Day wasn't the best day for him, assuming that his behavior is the result of something else that happened. You decide to keep your pondering questions to yourself, instead finishing your breakfast in silence. You scroll mindlessly on your phone, seeing multiple posts of friends already waking up to cute valentine gifts and what not.
Audibly, you let out a sigh, wondering if your date – whom you may come across at work– has anything planned for you this morning.
You glance over at Miguel who continues to stare down at his bowl, the obnoxious sound of milk falling off his spoon fills the silence.
Anxiety builds up in your stomach about last night. Was it wrong to ask him to help you? Perhaps he regrets what happened, suddenly wishing he’d never agree to it. Your negative thoughts continue to build up inside you, suddenly taking away your appetite.
You thought last night was…good. Great, even. It had given you confidence for tonight.
if anything was to happen tonight.
Was last night helpful? Most definitely.
Did it spark something in you that you’ve tried to keep buried since the very moment you moved into the apartment? Sure.
Did you want to do it again? Hell yes.
But the question is, does he feel the same?
You take in his demeanor, his low mood and refusal to look up at you. Maybe he hates you so much that he can’t bear to stand you after last night. This brutal assumption was all you needed to get yourself to snap back into reality.
Before disappearing to get changed for work, you take one last glance at Miguel, who continues to ignore you. By the time you step out of your room to leave the apartment for work you find the kitchen empty.
You find a single bowl of cereal on the table that remains unfinished.
/
Exhausted, miguel steps into the apartment. He thinks it’s nearing 6pm by the time he arrives, taking a little longer than usual to return.
As soon as he shuts the door behind him he can hear your voice calling for him; a personal singsong just for him bouncing off the walls. After locking the door, he turns to hang up his coat before bending down to remove his shoes.
By the time he looks up again, you’re suddenly standing in front of him and for a second it feels like his breath is knocked out of his lungs.
And there you were. Stood in front of him with a cheesy smile across your lips, wearing a dress he’s never seen before. You tilt your head to one side, awkwardly fiddling with your hands as Miguel stares you down.
“Do you think it’s a little too much?”
You move your body a little, providing different angles of the dress. Immediately Miguel’s eyes are drawn to the way that your curves hug at the dress. His eyes are latched onto you, unblinking. As he stands in silence your mind turns into panic, taking it as a negative reaction. Maybe it’s not the right dress.
Your disappointment is more than obvious as you start to turn, heading back to your bedroom where a pile of clothes await your return. “You’re right, I think I should–”
“Perfect.”
Finally, the words leave his throat.
If the words ‘Will you be my Valentine?’ won’t fall from his lips then he makes sure that you’re able to hear this at least.
“It’s perfect.” He repeats, a little louder now. His body forces himself to blink now, eyes stinging at the image of you.
“Are you sure?” Your tone is apprehensive, unable to see the positive correlation between his reaction with his words. “Because I think I have a better dress–”
“No.” Miguel swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I like this one, it looks good. Perfect.”
He likes it.
Relief crashes over you, all doubt washed away. His external validation was the only thing you needed.
“Really?”
Miguel’s patience was wearing thin at your disbelief, it took everything in him not to run up to you and mark you as his. It took everything in him not to run his hands all over your body, to ingest every feature, to worship it, to make love to it and provide you everything you had ever wanted.
God, he wanted nothing more but to prove to you that, yes, you looked fucking gorgeous, stunning even. If there was a moment where he wanted to kick himself in the balls for not asking you out sooner, the moment would be now.
“Really. Don’t change.”
He can’t tell whether this final validation was all you needed or whether his tone was finally believable to you but either way he’s satisfied that he has finally gotten through to you as a smile reaches for your lips.
“Thanks mig’. ” you mutter quickly, turning from him as fast as you could to hide the heat that now spread rapidly across your face. You say nothing more, disappearing as quickly as you had appeared, leaving him in a wondrous state.
/
“Think you’ll be okay?”
You don’t look up at him, too busy replying back to a message. He watches as your thumbs move across the small screen at lighting speed. “Yeah, yeah, he’s nearly here.” you mumble quietly. Unfortunately, you’re too preoccupied to notice the look of apprehension on Miguel’s face.
There’s something that gnaws at him completely. From the inside, just begging to be let out. He doesn’t know whether it’s a confession, his jealousy or anger at himself. He assumes that this feeling is a mix of all three.
He can tell that you're nervous, teeth softly biting down on your bottom lip, heels tapping the floor with impatience. If you weren’t holding your phone with two hands, he’d bet that you’d be biting at your nails. It takes everything in him not to grab you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him and take a few deep breaths.
Soon enough, a ding is heard from your phone and he watches how your face lights up. All he can do is stand awkwardly as you tell him your date is here to pick you up. Miguel watches you as you make your way to the door, double checking your purse for anything that you may have forgotten.
A wish of ‘good luck’ dies in Miguel’s throat as you slip through the door, leaving him with nothing more than an echoed goodbye.
The second he hears the door lock behind you, a sigh seems to leave his lips. He can smell the lingering scent of a perfume that he had bought for you as a christmas present, a new favorite that you only wore on special occasions.
Silence now begins to torment him, his mind is jumping to conclusions. What if this one date will lead to a second date and then a third and then a tenth? Until eventually the day comes, when you announce that you’ll be moving out.
He’ll be left on his own, again.
And all that follows are bland text messages from you every now and again, checking up on him as a friend whilst he falls back into the shadows, forever stuck with the label of ‘roommate’.
The deafening silence continues to torture him, thoughts emerging to the idea of your date becoming the love of your life. It's completely stupid and useless to jump to this assumption but he can’t help it. He can’t help but tyrannize himself, his insecurity eating away his insides like vermin.
“Fuckin’ hell, you need to get yourself together.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, making his way over to the couch. He collapses with exhaustion, a groan leaving his body as he does so.
It takes him more than a few minutes to realize that he’s sitting in the same spot as last night. The only difference being is that there’s no pretty girl sitting between his thighs, eyes glowing at him with lust and desire. This single thought is enough to make him hard.
A curse or two is muttered under his breath as an uncontrollable bulge begins to grow in his pants. He really shouldn’t. But he does.
His fingertips run over his crotch as he reminisces about last night: the innocent look on your face, your shock at how big his cock was, your attempt to take him whole, desperately trying to fit him into that pretty little mouth of yours, and by god, it took everything in him not to keep you down there.
But that look, that glow almost dared him to. Your eyes silently expressed that this was all for him. Miguel lets out a groan, finally giving in to his needs, a hand slipping into his pants to free his aching cock from his boxers.
He gives slow, long strokes imitating what you had done yesterday. A quiet whimper leaves his throat, his thumb wiping away at the pre-cum at the crown of his length. He remembers the way his body shudders as you left tantalizing little circles at the tip of his cock, practically torturing him.
His thoughts drastically change from imagining your mouth teasing his cock to how he would tease your dripping cunt. He imagines how soaked you would be for him and wonders whether you were like this yesterday, when you were sucking him off, completely soaked through your panties.
Miguel lets out a groan at the mere thought, his hand now increasing the pace of his strokes. You’d be so tight, he thinks, so tight that your eyes would tear up at your cunt trying to take him whole. His cock would stuff every inch of you, your cunt clenching around him, your little whines persuading him to go deeper, trying to prove that you can take it all.
He wraps a tight fist around himself, pumping himself a little faster now, his breath hitched. His free hand grips at a pillow beside him, imagining that he was taking handfuls of your ass as he buried himself deeper into you. He’d start off slow, let you get adjusted to his size before building up a merciless pace.
Miguel imagines your body writhing beneath him, fingertips scratching at his back as he pleases you. Miguel begins to feel heat in his lower abdomen, his eyes are closed and brows are furrowed as he tries to focus on pornographic images of you in his mind. He imagines your whimpers, babbling to him about how good it feels. That’s all he wanted to do. Make you feel good.
“Please, please, please– fuck, don’t stop.”
Miguel’s thighs begin to tense, hips jerking slightly as he fists his cock. It feels too good to stop. It’s wrong but he can’t stop your name from escaping from his lips. He surrenders to the feelings of pleasure and complete euphoria. He feels the cord in his lower abdomen begin to snap away, desperate pleads echo off the walls as he cums, his seed spilling across his hand and lower abdomen.
Coming down from his climax, the realization of what he’s done crashes over him like a wave and suddenly he finds himself violently drowning. Drowning in a sea of his thoughts and his mistakes. Cruelly, he reminds himself that he can’t be saved and that he deserves to be alone. After all…
he has no one to blame but himself.
click here for part 3
#angel writes#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel x reader#miguel smut#miguel o'hara#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara atsv#atsv headcanons#atsv x reader#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel x reader fluff
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Chicken Soup for Carmy
⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️ harsh language, sexism and violence in one scene (not from Carmy). Hurt/comfort, fluff.
A/N: I’m literally feral for this man. I’m sick atm and I started thinking about taking care of Carmy while I was making chicken soup. Bonus combo with Carmy protecting you from an asshole customer. Not proofread bc my brain is rotting. Plz be nice this is my first time posting a fic 🥺
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It was cold. You braced yourself against the harsh Chicago wind as you made your way briskly down the street. After a late night phone call from your brother sent you into a spiral, you couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning all night until finally, at 4am, you flung off the covers and got dressed. It wasn’t a surprise that you’d come here. This place consumed all your mind and your heart since you started working here a few months ago. You used your key to unlock the door in the alley, sighing with relief as the warmth of The Beef welcomed you inside. It was quiet, the lights were down, it was peaceful. You slipped off your sneakers trading in your kitchen clogs and tucked your things safely away in your locker. You tied your handkerchief on your head as you moved. It was so comforting, the routine of The Beef’s prep work. You felt so at home, moving from the prep area to the walk in, diligently beginning the tasks that didn’t need to be started for a few more hours. He would understand. You thought to yourself as you began to prepare fresh stock for the day. He was a man after your own heart, your boss, Carmen Berzatto.
Avoidant, chaotically emotional, one wrong thing away from a complete meltdown, that you both disguised as workaholic tendencies. As you finely chopped onions, your mind quieted. Everything was shut out except for the task at hand. Your brother’s angry voice on the phone accusing you: “you never come home! You don’t even care about us! You can’t take come take care of your own mother?!” was drowned out by the rhythmic pound of your knife on the cutting board. You were in the zone.
Until a voice startled you out of your bubble. “Chef?” You jolted, looking up at the man before you. Carmy’s hair was messier than usual, the bags under his eyes were deeper and more purple. His lips were parted with each soft breath he took. He gave you a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?”
“I uh-” your mouth felt dry and you tripped over your words, as usual when he set those intense blue eyes on you. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Carmy nodded, not pushing you any further. All he said before moving toward the office was a simple: “Heard, Chef.”
You watched him go, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the labor of his normally spry step. There was no mistaking it, Carmen was sick. You stared at the office door for a long moment before you made up your mind.
You set a heavy bottomed pot on the stove with some olive oil. Your hands moved with well practiced efficiency as you chopped garlic and onions, celery and carrots. The garlic and onions went in first. Then the celery. A sprig of thyme and a dash of white wine. While that simmered you quickly seared some chicken breast and chopped it into perfectly bite sized pieces. All into the pot with chicken stock and water, tightly covered to develop the flavors. Next came the pasta. You cracked eggs into the well of flour, mixing and kneading until it became a smooth golden dough. You carefully, tenderly rolled the dough and cut it into thick, short noodles. A bath in hot water to cook, then they too joined the pot. In no time at all, you were ladling a generous portion into a bowl. You set a toasted piece of chibatta on the side, grabbed a spoon, and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle your nerves. Softly, you knocked on the office door.
“Yeah?” His voice responded.
“Chef?” You entered, nervous. Words failing you as they so often did in his presence, you set the bowl before him. Carmy’s eyes widened. The aroma made his mouth water. He looked to you, gaze softening. “You made me chicken soup?”
Your cheeks grew warm. “Y-yeah, I mean chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”
Carmy couldn’t believe you. You noticed? He smiled at you. You were so beautiful. You were always so confident and sure on the line, delegating with efficiency, respect, and authority. He had hired you the second you stepped into The Beef. Your resume was impressive but there was something in the way you carried yourself that truly earned the golden reputation you had in the culinary industry. But you were different with him, in the occasional moments like this where it was just you and him. Shy, almost bashful, gentle, and soft. He loved it. He wanted more of it. He lifted the spoon, bringing a bite to his lips.
“Gotta get a little of everything.” You muttered, eagerly awaiting his response.
Carmy shot you a sideways smile. It was good. No, it was better than good. The warm broth slid down his throat and each bite exploded with a depth of flavor he couldn’t believe. It was pure comfort. It reminded him of being a little kid staying home sick from school. Curled up on the couch while Jerry Springer played, eating crackers and ginger ale until his mom would bring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. But this soup, your soup, was more than that. People always talk about cooking with love but he swore he could taste it. Each ingredient had been so carefully handled. Perfectly chopped vegetables, moist and flavorful chicken. The warm feeling in his chest grew as he inspected the bowl.
“Did uh, did you make this pasta fresh?” He asked, eyeing you.
“Yeah, it’s better that way.” You blushed.
“Thank you, chef.” He said. “It’s really, really good.” Carmy looked down, suddenly feeling heavy. The fear of closeness set into him and all he could think about was how he’d fuck this up. “You-you didn’t have to make this for me.”
“Oh, it’s okay!” You insisted. “It was no big deal.” You began to leave, giving him one last truthful smile. “I like taking care of you.”
“I like taking care of you.” Your words rattled through Carmy’s mind all day. Throughout all of lunch, prep, and dinner he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said. The soup you had made was the first thing he’d eaten in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him and you’d just done it because you noticed he wasn’t feeling well. No motive, no games, just tender love and concern.
Love.
Carmy shook his head to try and shake the thought from his mind. No, no, no there was no way you actually cared about him. Not like that. You were just being nice.
That’s just who you are; nice. You were always so kind. The way you’d help Marcus workshop pastries, the way you’d make Tina laugh and listen to her talk about whatever trouble Louis had gotten in, how you’d encourage Sydney and remind her that she can do this. Even the way you’d throw snark right back at Richie or how’d you’d always set aside a portion of Family for Fak and Sugar, even Pete. You were always thinking of others. Carmy wasn’t special.
Yeah. Not special.
Carmy insisted the thought as he scrubbed the grill. Not special. Not special. Not special.
“Carmy?” There you were. You were always there. You had a thick denim jacket on, bag on your shoulder, knit beanie pulled down over your hair. Your brow furrowed at the sight of him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Carmy shook his head. “I’m fine… you uh- you heading out?”
You shrugged, hoisting your bag a little higher on your shoulder and eyeing him skeptically. “Yeah. Are you?”
“Yeah, in a bit.”
You chuckled, more exasperated than humorous. “No.”
“What?” Carmy asked, confused.
“No, you’re leaving too.” You insisted. You were feeling bold. Months of long looks and his hand on your lower back every time he passed you had culminated tonight.
You had taken over the front for Richie while he ducked out to take a call from his daughter. You’d insisted. It was slammed for dinner but everything was going fairly smooth until an irate customer approached you.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’d asked, slamming his plate onto the counter.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean are you retarded or something?” He continued. You were stunned into silence. You had never had anyone speak to you like that. “How hard is it to make a fucking sandwich? I know your tits are bigger than your brain but Jesus fucking Christ it’s not hard!”
“I-I…” you were shaking. “I’m sorry that you’re not satisfied, sir. If you like, we can-”
“Not satisfied?!” He screamed. “How can I be satisfied with this piece of shit!”
He hurled the sandwich at you. It hit you in the chest, toppings and sauce splattering everywhere. Before you even knew what was happening, a blur of messy curls shot past you. Carmy launched over the counter, tackling the man. His fist collided with the man’s face over and over while Richie and Fak rushed after him. There was a cacophony of yells as Richie pulled Carmy back. “Get your girl!” Richie yelled. “Cousin! Go get your girl!”
Fak and Richie dragged the man out and threw him into the street. Carmy’s hands grasped your cheeks.
“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He wiped the sauce splatters from your brow. “Look at me.”
Carmy burned with anger as he watched you shake. Your white shirt and blue apron were covered in the sandwich. He imagined what you would do for him if he was in your position. How you’d care for him, how you’d tend to him… so he tried to do what you would. Gently he guided you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist. He practically carried you to his office where he sat you on the couch and quickly went to grab a clean shirt from his own locker. You were in the same place he left you when he returned. Carmy knelt before you, taking your face in his hands once more.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Tears welled in your eyes and you collapsed into his arms. He smoothed his hand over you back, repeating “it’s okay” over and over again. He felt like he was on fire. The feeling of you clinging to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, the smell of you, how you fit in his arms… it was too much. He wanted to run away and never speak to you again. He wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to find the piece of shit that yelled at you and rip him to pieces. He wanted your chicken soup every time he was sick.
All those feelings were closing in on Carmy once again as he stared at you across the kitchen. You still had his t shirt on. You were looking at him expectantly.
“Sorry, uh… what did you say?” Carmy’s voice was softer than he expected.
“I said I’ll walk home with you.”
“Oh, no that’s okay. Ive got to-“
“Carmy,” you stepped closer. Your voice was firm but so tender. “You need to get some rest. Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.”
He couldn’t help but smile back at you. “Alright…” he conceded.
The two of you braced yourselves against the cold and hurried down the sidewalk side by side. You argued about who would walk who home. Carmy insisted on walking you to your apartment but you protested on the grounds that he’d just go back to the restaurant once he dropped you off.
“Fine,” you gave in. “But you have to call me when you get to your place so I know you made it home!”
Carmy looked at the ground, smiling. The warmth in his chest from your soup was steadily turning into a molten pool of lava.
“Heard.” He grinned. You wanted to know he’d made it home. You wanted to make sure he rested. I like taking care of you.
“Well, I’m just up here.” Your voice stopped his thoughts from spiraling before it could even start. Carmy’s brow furrowed. “What?” You asked, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.
“You live over there?”
“Yeah? Like a block down?”
There was a beat of silence before Carmy let out a breathy laugh. “I live right there.” He pointed to the building on the other side of the street.
“No shit!” You laughed in earnest. Your hand came to rest on his arm. “Guess I’m gonna be walking you home more often.”
Carmy’s entire body was on fire. He could imagine the tingle of your soft hand on his skin through all the layers of clothing. He wanted to hold you close again like in his office, but this time you wouldn’t be crying. A deep pit opened in his stomach. How long before he made you cry? How long before he fucked it all up? Until you hated him and quit the restaurant and everything fell apart because he-
“Hey,” your voice. Always your voice that brought him back. When he looked over at you it was like everything but your face faded into a blurry background. You were all Carmy could see. “Do you want to come to mine? I haven’t eaten and I KNOW you haven’t either.”
Carmy’s heart fluttered. “O-okay.” He started, his confidence rising when he noticed your hand was still in his arm. “Only if you let me cook you something.”
“Ooh,” you smiled. “I’d never turn that down!”
Carmy chuckled, feeling lighter for the first time in years as he walked so close beside you that your shoulders brushed. “It won’t be as good as your chicken soup.”
#the bear#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#carmy x you#carmy x fem!reader#hurt/comfort#sickfic#carmen berzatto fluff
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-cuddles!-
featured character ☆ itoshi sae
tag(s): fluff! ☆
apologies if this is out of character.
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No joke, period cramps hurt a lot. What's included in the monthly cycles are also mood swings, you're definitely ten times extra sensitive when it's that time of the month. Well today, you woke up quite late, maybe around eleven o'clock or so. Next to the wooden night stand, there's a white envelope. You take it and gently ripped off the cute little pink heart sticker on it. Then, you reached for the folded white piece of paper. The note read;
༊*·˚
Y/n, you probably woke up to see this note by the nightstand. Around this time I'm probably not home. I may come home around nine o'clock, do whatever you'd like for the whole day. As always, I love you.
-Sae
༊*·˚
You smiled reading the note and the "I love you" that Sae wrote down in black ink. After being fully awake (maybe lying in bed for an extra 10 minutes), you straightened the bed sheets and comforter then started feeling hungry and so, you headed down to the kitchen and made some breakfast. After eating some toast with avocado and eggs, you decided to take a shower and do some skin care. Finally, you just plop on the navy blue sofa and decided to just binge watch Tales of the Nine Tailed since it seemed interesting. You got your phone and scrolled on Twitter to see if there's anything new. Maybe after one or two episodes of Nine Tailed, you got sudden cramps. It felt extremely agonizing to the point where you thought you were on the verge of death. So now change of plans. For the entire day you're not going to be binge watching some k-drama but you're simply just going to wrap yourself in a blanket, tightly clench on your stomach while lying on the couch, play dead, and wait for Sae to come home.
༊*·˚ around 9 o'clock
You hear the keys jingling and the sound of a door opening and closing. "I'm home" Sae calls out but it was dead silent. "Saeee..." you whine. Sae heads over to the couch and sees you lying down, wrapped in a white fluffy blanket. You sniffled, there were dry tear stains on your cheeks and he could clearly see them, your eyes were also quite puffy and red. "Angel, what happened?" Sae looks at you, a very concerned look on his face. "Cramps..." you pout. Sae gently strokes your head then heads to the kitchen to warm up some milk and a hot water bottle. A few minutes later, he then proceeds to give you a mug with warm milk and a plush-like hot water bottle. "Thank you." you then take a sip of the warm milk from the light colored orange ceramic mug. "You're welcome. Is there anything else you'd like?" "Hug..." you looked away, feeling a little embarrassed. Sae then kisses you on the cheek and embraces you in his arms for a long long time. You nuzzle against his neck, much like a cat. "Is there anything you'd like to do or watch?" your face instantly glows up. "I want to watch Spirited Away with you!!" A smile appeared on Sae's face. "Of course."
About 50 minutes left, you fell asleep against Sae. Sae grabs the remote and turns off the TV, afraid that the sound and brightness would wake you up. This all ends when he whispers a "I love you" and slowly falling asleep next to you.
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i have little info about sae's personality so i apologize if it's very out of character. but anyways, tysm for reading :3
-fuyuko
©fuyukohasnocreativity do not copy, repost, or translate. likes and reblogs are accepted and appreciated!
#fuyuko-writes#blue lock#anime and manga#anime#manga#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#blue lock x you#bllk x you#blue lock fluff#bllk fluff#bllk x y/n#blue lock x y/n#bllk#blue lock imagines#bllk imagines#itoshi sae#sae itoshi#itoshi sae x reader#sae itoshi x reader#sae x reader#itoshi sae x you#sae itoshi x you#sae x you#bllk x female reader#blue lock x female reader#blue lock manga#blue lock anime#fluff#sae x reader fluff
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Neighbour Ghost x reader 4
2.4k | fluff
Simon liked the way you looked at him (part 1) (part 5)
“Why was the strawberry crying?” Simon asked, casually buttering his toast that Saturday morning.
“Why?”
“’cause it was in a jam.” He looked too proud of himself as he took a bite of his toast.
You laughed, looking up from the near empty jar you were trying to clean out with your butter knife.
He loved seeing your bright smile as you sat there across the small table. Even that this was his first breakfast with you, it was better than dinner. In the gentle sun, your eyes were even lovelier, wisps of hair around your face like a halo. The building was far quieter at the hour and you felt closer, like you were all his in this quiet corner of the world.
“Luv, I was wondering if you could teach me how to bake? If you don’t mind.”
“But I’m not a very good baker.”
“Bollocks. Your pie was mint.”
You chuckled. “Okay, that one I can.”
After breakfast, you laid ingredients on the counter next to the recipe - your handwriting distinct, pleasant. Were you ever going to write something for him? A little note would be more than enough, but if he could ask, he’d prefer a letter, maybe, for when he’s away thinking of you.
“Would you like an apron?” You held yours up, with a cat print peeking out of the pocket.
He chuckled, looking over as he washed his hands. Would you like him more in one? “If you reckon I need it.”
You tied it around his waist and let out a small giggle at the sight. “So you want to cut the butter into smaller pieces,” you said, working the butter into the flour with the back of a fork before handing it over to him.
Simon pressed the fork onto the butter, but the sheer force of it made flour fly out of the mixing bowl.
“Shite,” he said under his breath.
“Gently.” You placed your hand over his, pushing it down. “This way.”
He took a breath as he watched how you did so easily, but most of all, revelled in your touch. You’d already held hands, but this was something else. He wished you didn’t let go. And you didn’t, instead wrapping an arm around his waist, watching, as he proceeded with the job you assigned.
He peered at you and you nodded approvingly.
“Now tip that out and fold the dough over itself until it comes together - no dry flour left.”
He dumped the lumpy, powdery mess onto the board and brought it together with his large, awkward hands. But a few folds in, the dough started to transform into a cohesive ball. His brows rose in amusement.
“Look at that, you’re a natural!”
He chuckled to himself as you beamed at him proudly.
Next came the filling. You placed the peeler in his palm - the very same one from last week - his fucking nemesis. He picked up one of the apples, dwarfed by his hand, hoping he had better luck with rounded objects.
He didn’t. He was taking off chunks off the pitiful fruit. He should have come prepared and asked his mum how to peel apples without looking like he was about to stab someone. They certainly didn’t teach you how to use a peeler at the butcher.
“I like to do it this way.” You lightly took the tool from him and demonstrated with another apple. “Hold it here and pull away, like this. Even pressure for the thinnest peel.”
Thanks for not calling me daft.
Following your advice, the assignment didn’t turn out to be that hard. You put on some music as he cored and cut up the apples. At least he was far better with traditional knives.
“Quality control,” you said, popping a piece in your mouth.
Simon chuckled, placing the knife down as he turned to you. “Any good?”
“Mhm. Sweet, but tart enough.” You reached for the mixing bowl again, but he caught your wrist, making you look up at him.
“Would you please let me kiss you?”
You blinked and his heart stalled in those few silent seconds, but you stepped towards him, clutching the front of his black shirt. He sighed as he leaned in, arm around your waist, finally tasting your lips - perfect just like he’d always imagined them to be. The apples were indeed sweet.
You pulled away and bit down your smile, eyeing him from under your lashes before looking away. He too couldn’t stop the grin that crept up his face, nor the thumping of his chest. He picked up the knife and continued the task at hand while you stood next to him measuring out the rest of the ingredients.
On the occasions he looked over to make sure he was following your directions correctly, your gazes met and you turned away, hiding your face behind your cup of jasmine tea. He found it endearing.
The crust he rolled out looked mangled but you reassured no one would be able to decipher the patchwork when it was all done. As he brushed the top of the pie with egg wash, he nodded when you asked if you could take a photo of him.
You gave him a little peck when he finally closed the oven door, just like you had each time he finished a step. He felt like a dog, getting a treat for every good behaviour. The pie felt like a chore now. Could he not dive into all his treats already?
You sat on the couch as the pie baked.
“I’ve always wondered how far your sleeve goes. Does it extend to your chest?”
“Just a sleeve.” He pulled his shirtsleeve up revealing the entirety of his monochrome tattoo.
Your lips pursed. Did he look that good that it flustered you? You were adorable. He liked the way you were looking. Could you never look away again?
“Would you believe me if I told you I had a nipple ring?”
You laughed, tearing your gaze away from his arm. “No way.”
“It was a stupid bet I lost shortly after I enlisted.”
“What was it?”
“It’s too embarrassing. Maybe next time.”
Simon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him as he leaned back. With your hand on his chest, you closed the gap and he just wanted to melt into a puddle against your soft lips. Your breath hitched as his fingers ran down your spine.
You lay on top of him, and his wary fingers toyed with the ends of your hair. The both of you remained silent in each other’s embrace, kissing occasionally, until the timer on the oven went off.
“What do you want for dinner?”
Simon took another bite of his pie that he had to admit tasted far better than he expected it to, perhaps even as good as yours if he was generous (if he closed his eyes anyway). No soggy bottom, at least. Merry Berry would be proud.
“I’m going to the soup kitchen, so I’ll get something nearby after.”
How could he forget? It was the first Saturday of the month.
“You need to pick up loaves from the bakery, yeah? Need me to drive you?”
You smiled. “I’d really like that if you don’t mind, actually. Oh, I need to text Ben, in case he forgets.”
“Ben?”
“Your mums’ boss. We pickup leftover bread there at a discount.”
As you buckled up in his SUV, he realised he never got to hand you your gift last night. He reached for the bag in the backseat.
“For you.”
You pulled out the grey fabric and that beautiful smile bloomed across your lips again.
“Oh, Simon, that’s lovely.” Your fingers traced over the little patch on the left side of the chest. A slice of apple pie. You looked up at him. “Thank you so much.”
It was impossible for his heart to not skip at such a sight.
As you settled the payments with Ben, Simon helped you haul the crates of bread into his car. He was glad he was around this time to help you out otherwise you’d have to take a taxi all by yourself like you always did.
“Ben, mate?” As Simon carried the last of the crates, he stopped at the door which the older gentleman was holding open. “You reckon you’ve got anything to do with how the bastard found out my mum works here?”
He shook his head. “I don’t even know him.”
“Did you contact the coppas? Ran a background check on her perhaps?”
Ben’s eyes widened. “Oh, I had no idea-“
Mr. Riley must have played the worried husband and reported her missing back home to have been notified.
He sighed. “No worries, Ben. It’s not your fault.”
“R- really?”
He felt bad about how the old man gripped the door, still looking up at him with wide eyes.
“I’m just glad you were there with her. Oh-“ He fished out a wad of cash from his back pocket and handed it to Ben. “To cover the discount. See you around, mate.”
Still in disbelief, he flinched at the pat on his arm.
At the facility centre, the lieutenant effortlessly carried the load into the kitchen, but he lingered at the building’s entrance.
“You reckon there’s anything else I can help with inside?”
You smiled. “Always.”
Perhaps Simon should have asked what the menu was before offering a hand, but he was glad it was the humble garlic bread and that his slicing and buttering skills were decent. You introduced him as a friend to the other volunteers, who were polite (or scared) enough not to question how close he stood by you. But was it bad if he wanted more, if he wanted them to ask who he really was to you?
At 6, people started pouring into the hall. Some knew you by name, greeting you with a grin that faltered when they laid eyes on the stony lieutenant next to you. It must have been comical how the both of you looked behind the small table handing out garlic bread, his frown a stark contrast to your bright self.
But he was having a grand time simply being close to you, seeing you and your friends making people smile. His pinky trailed down your hand.
You looked up at him, shoulder bumping his arm. “You keep our country safe. That’s why we get to have nights like this.”
He smiled when you held his hand. He supposed he was a tiny, tiny bit responsible for this. Your reassurance gave him a new sense of pride, that he was doing something.
After a late dinner you insisted Simon pick, the both of you headed home. When he made it to your flat in the baggiest shirt he owned, you were on the couch, freshly showered just as he was.
You should be kicking him out for bothering you even at this hour, so why did you take him by the hand and lead him to your bed instead? He didn’t resist when you lay next to him, your hand propping your head up.
His heart raced with you this close, watching your soft eyes travel over his face that he didn’t feel deserved to be mere inches away from your beautiful one.
“Simon Riley,” you said quietly, your thumb tracing his lower lip.
“Hm?”
“You’ve got a pretty name.”
Even my last name?
Your gaze flicked up. “Your eyes are really pretty too.”
His eyes fluttered close as he let out an uneven breath.
“You’re beautiful.” Your fingers trailed down his scruffy jaw.
He was certain now his chest was about to explode. Were you high? What did you see in him?
He’d never been touched so carefully before, gazed at so softly. Not even by his first and last love, his childhood sweetheart, whom the thought was the one before duty got in the way. It had been so long ago that he’d forgotten what it felt like to have a bit of peace, to just be - if things were ever this pleasant.
Each ‘a little more’ of you carried him further and further, and he’d floated a little too far from shore - the shore which had thinned into a distant line in the horizon, foreign from where he was as he threaded.
Wasn’t this only going to end one way? He was playing with fire, going down a slippery slope, to be in involved with you as this mess of a man. He did terrible things for a living. He wasn’t good enough for you, couldn’t you see? Or were you too compassionate to understand? It was all the more why he shouldn’t be here with you, in your bed, under your touch, even when he didn’t ever want to leave this flat of yours.
But you let him stay anyway, even after the shameful admittance of his past. Could it be that it didn’t matter to you, that for the first time he was alright as he was, despite his shortcomings? Perfectly loveable, as you were in his eyes?
Hope glimmered in him. I want to be good enough for you.
“Why are you so… nice?”
You took a moment to reply. “It’s easy to be. Being nice is free.”
It was not. Nothing was, but who was he to break your heart?
“Have you not been hurt from that?”
Your lips quirked into a resigned smile. “Unfortunately so, but sometimes it’s worth it.”
He pulled you in, his fingers tangled in your hair as you let out a soft giggle against his lips. When he eventually let you out of his grasp, a little breathless, you flicked the bedside lamp off.
You yawned. “If you’re heading back, please slide the key under the door.”
He didn’t want to. He scooted behind you, a heavy arm around your waist.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what. The bet was that Arsenal was going to lose to Man U. Well, they didn’t, but my left nipple did.”
Your body shook with laughter. “Of course it was a football bet.”
He smiled into your hair. “Goodnight, luv.”
“Night, Simon,” you mumbled.
Pressed up against you in your soft bed, so cosy with your scent surrounding him, his eyelids soon grew heavy.
His worst demons could visit in his dreams again, but nothing was going to take him out of your bed that night. Maybe, this time, things really could be alright for once, and not only in his favourite flat in Hereford.
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#call of duty#cod#cod fanfic#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty fluff#cod fluff#call of duty x you#cod x you#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley fluff#ghost fluff#neighbor!ghost
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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 48
Part 1 Part 47
The nostalgia of the morning cannot be overstated for Steve. Sure, the fight over the bathroom is more cramped than it used to be, and Eddie’s much grumpier in the mornings than Tommy’s ever been. And yeah, Eddie doesn’t have enough spare toothbrushes, so Steve has to fake disgust when Carol snatches his out of his hand and starts brushing her own teeth with nary a rinse-off.
Carol digs through Eddie’s drawers until she finds a shirt ripped up enough that tucking it into yesterday’s jeans looks like a purposeful statement instead of a walk-of-shame look, ignoring Eddie’s squawking. Steve does the same, and by the time they stumble into the morning dressed and ready, Eddie looks like he’s adopted a couple preps he’s converted to his demonic metal ways. It’s Carol’s hair – too perky by halves.
And yeah, Uncle Wayne is sitting at the table, eyebrows raised like he’s trying to figure out the minutiae of the three of them coming out of his nephew’s room bright and early on a random Tuesday morning. Sleepovers at Steve or Tommy’s never involved any sort of parental oversight, and one’s at Carol’s involved everyone sneaking out of the window to avoid the breakfast table all together.
“Didn’t make enough toast,” Uncle Wayne mutters tiredly, even as his eyes vertifiably twinkle over his mug as he looks between the three of them before settling onto his nephew.
Eddie, never a morning person even on the best of days, slumps down in his customary chair, thumping his forehead down on the table with a groan.
Carol scoffs, scooping up a piece of toast and eggs onto one of the two empty plates laid out, glaring at Eddie as she takes a ferocious bite. Then, seemingly remembering her manners, she smiles over at Uncle Wayne like butter wouldn’t melt and sweetly says, “thank you, Uncle Wayne.”
Steve goes to the counter, shoving two more pieces of bread in the toaster and waiting impatiently for them to pop back up.
Behind him, Eddie’s near-snoring into his eggs, snuffling. Steve turns around, smiling as Uncle Wayne elbows him in the ribs. “Introduce me to your friend, boy.”
“Not my friend,” Eddie mutters. Steve turns back force the half-baked toas up and out of the toaster impatiently just as Eddie hurriedly continues, “but this is Carol Perkins! Steve’s–”
“Best friend,” Carol says. Steve slides back over to them, leaning against the fridge to watch the show, unwilling to slink off into the living room when there’s a show to be had. He eats both pieces dry, choking it down with a glass of orange juice he pours from the fridge.
He downs the cup, wiping his juice-mustache, before meeting Uncle Wayne’s judgemental eyes. “Don’t have room for another stow-away.”
Carol chokes on her eggs as Steve laughs. “This one will be leaving,” he says.
Everyone ignores Eddie grumbling quietly under his breath. “Aww, Stevie,” she says, pouting up at him and lowering one of her eyelids mockingly. “You trying to get rid of little old me?”
Steve rolls his eyes, turning his back to rinse out his juice cup before putting it carefully on the rack to dry. “Whatever,” he mutters, walking past the table to go snag their backpacks from Eddie’s room, stomping out of the trailer with a called, “bye, Uncle Wayne!” to wait for the other two by the van.
Eddie comes stumbling out, clearly being pushed along by an unmerciful Carol. He slides into the driver’s seat just as Steve’s buckling his seatbelt. Instead of settling down in the back, Carol sits between them on the floor, bickering with Eddie over what cassette they should play.
When they park, Carol barely waits for the van to come to a complete stop before jumping out and skipping off, blowing a kiss over her shoulder just before she melds into the mob that is the student body at large.
Steve and Eddie sit in silence for a moment, reveling in the silence, like the echoing quiet after a bomb has gone off. Or when the cops come, and someone cuts the music at a party.
“What a freak,” Eddie says. He sounds like he can’t decide between being impressed or disgusted by her, unsure where he’s going to land.
Steve laughs, sliding out of the car himself, following in Carol’s wake. The day passes, Steve rides the wave of it, a buoy on the waves that never quiet settles into one spot.
It’s not Carol who sits at their table at lunch, but a Nancy-less Jonathan. Steve smiles absently at him as he squeezes between Steve and Eddie, eyes shifting over to his old table. Carol’s already there, whispering heatedly into Tommy’s ear. He looks sullen, eyebrows pinched and mouth sneering the way it always does when someone tells him something he doesn’t want to hear. Carol smack him with the back of her hand, hard in the arm until he leans away, full-on scowling as she continues to scold him.
It doesn’t take a genius to guess the topic of their conversation, especially after Tommy’s eyes lock with Steve’s across the busy lunchroom. Their gazes hold. Tommy looks serious, sad in a way he rarely is, even more rarely lets show in public. Steve’s heart shudders, the long-buried desire for the past rearing its head.
But then Jonathan leans into him, whispers, “I think we should tell someone,” and Steve glances his way.
When he looks back, Tommy’s turned away entirely, slamming the contents of his tray into the trash as he stalks out of the cafeteria entirely. Steve looks back to Carol, who meets his eyes with a snarl on her face, shrugging, like she’s indifferent to Tommy’s reaction. Steve sighs, looking away.
“Tell someone what?” Steve asks quietly.
Jonathan leans closer, lowering his voice even further. “About your weird powers,” Jonathan replies, the “duh” silent but heavily implied by his tone.
Steve scrunches his nose up, looking over Jonathan’s head at Eddie, who looks just as baffled as he is. “…who?” Eddie asks, just as Steve says, “why?”
Jonathan looks back and forth between them, his eyes just as intense as usual. “The lab people contacted Mom,” he says, mouth barely moving. “They wanted to check up on Will, see how he’s doing.”
Steve looks at Eddie over Jonathan’s hunched shoulders. For once, he can’t tell what Eddie’s thinking. Can’t even tell what he’s thinking himself besides a visceral reaction of wrong wrong wrong that makes him want to curl up in a ball somewhere dark and small.
“Uh, they experimented on a kid, dude,” Eddie says, scoffing. “No way in hell should we trust them with any further weirdness.”
“They what?” Steve demands.
Eddie waves his hand placatingly. “Later, Stevie,” he says, not taking his eyes away from Jonathan. “If Mama Byers wants to trust shady government goons, you shouldn’t tell her either.”
Jonathan looks down at the table. Steve notices he hadn’t even bothered to grab lunch before sitting down. He scoots his own food closer to Jonathan, feels relieved when he immediately steals a couple fries.
“But what if she makes him go?” Jonathan whispers around the fry in his mouth. “What if there’s something actually wrong with Will?” Left unsaid, is that if something’s wrong with Will, there’s something wrong with all three of them.
The tight ball of Steve’s emotions curls up tighter, constricting his throat until it’s hard to choke out, “we’ll go with him.”
Eddie squawks, “what?” incredulously, leaning over Jonathan like he wants to shake Steve where he sits. Their friends quiet around the table, staring over at them, attention caught from Eddie’s shocked outburst. Eddie smiles nervously around the table before murmuring from the side of his mouth, “fucking fine!”
Steve slumps, relieved. Disappointed. Stressed enough that his organs are eating themselves inside him.
He eats a fry, like a normal boy on a normal Tuesday lunchtime would do. “Let us know what she decides to do,” he demands.
Jonathan nods. He spends the rest of lunch taking up space between them. A Byers is a Byers is a Byers, but Steve can’t help spending the rest of lunch tugging at the tie between him and Will, hoping the kid is okay.
Part 49
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kinda emergency request. Okay so I’m super sick right now but I also had a lot to get done this week so I pushed through and ended up collapsing. It was a whole thing and I went to the hospital for a few days. I hadn’t eaten cause I was nauseous or slept because I was in pain. Any way would it be possible to get a Evan Buckley x reader on that. Sorry it’s a lot I know! But thank you!
PUSH THROUGH — E.BUCKLEY
Being sick and being a firefighter were two things that should never exist at the same time. when you push yourself a little too hard and end up collapsing, buck gets more than a little worried.
WARNINGS: gn!reader, sick reader, mentions of nausea and wanting to throw up, reader faints
evan buckley x reader || hurt/comfort || 3.0k || requests open!
a/n: i hope you’re alright and get better soon!
₊ ⊹ masterlist!!
Being a firefighter was hard. It consisted of long and physically taxing workdays, a lot of mental scarring, and most prominently, a lack of regular breaks.
Some days were okay, slow days where you only had three or four calls in a 12 hour shift, but on days like today, where you had spent a grand total on 35 minutes in the station in the last six hours —with the first 20 of those being before your shift even started— being a firefighter felt like you were living through your own personal hell.
“Hey—” Buck nudges you with his elbow, and you blink your eyes shortly before turning your gaze to him with a small hum, breaking yourself out of your dissociation of staring blankly across the lounge room.
“I’ve been calling your name for like a whole minute, are you okay?” Buck’s eyebrows furrow in an obvious concern for your well being, a dark line forming at the top of the bridge of his nose that you fight the urge to smooth out with the pad of your thumb.
You might have an unprofessional friendship with Buck, but even you knew what boundaries were unsafe to cross.
“Mhm, I’m fine,” Your voice is distant even to yourself, like there’s a layer of cotton coating the inside of your ears.
“You’re not though,” Buck presses the back of his hand against your forehead to feel for a temperature, and you swat it away lightly with a small shake of your head, something that does nothing in disproving Buck’s theory. “You’re all quiet and warm, and I can see your hands shaking,”
You clasp your hands together at the last part, interlocking your fingers and holding them securely in your lap so that they can’t move without your consent anymore. “I’m fine,”
He sighs at your continued dismissal. It was obvious that you weren’t okay, so why would you keep trying to pretend like you were? “Have you eaten anything yet? Maybe you should eat something, you know, replenish all of those nutrients or whatever,”
“Okay Dr Buckley, no need to treat me like a five year old,” You roll your eyes with a short laugh, and a small smile etches it’s way onto Buck’s face at the flicker of your usual personality shining through despite your current condition. “I’m not hungry right now—” Buck opens his mouth to argue, but you hold up your hand before he can get a word out. “—But, i’ll see about getting something after our next call okay?”
He lets out a short breath through his nose as he concedes defeat, leaning back against the lounge sofa dramatically. “Fine, but I will make sure of that,”
You hope he doesn’t.
You’d tried to make yourself a piece of dry, bland toast this morning to quell the growing ache in your stomach from how little you’d fed yourself over the last two days, but it ended up with you feeling so sick that you had to take almost ten minutes of your morning doing deep breathing exercises so that you wouldn’t throw it back up again. You didn’t fancy a round two of that.
“Yes sir,” You exaggerate your response through a mock salute, and he gives you a short laugh and a pat of his hand on your lower thigh, squeezing it lightly.
You take the end in the conversation to relax against the back of the sofa, but as soon as the back of your head meets the top of the cushion the alarm rings out and you curse your own downfall.
Buck gives your leg another pat as he stands, holding out his hand for you to take so he can help you to your feet, something which, although you would keep to yourself to stop him from worrying about you even more, you were grateful for in the wake of your staticed vision in the first few second of you standing upright.
—
It wasn’t the worst call in the world, some driver going 10 over the speed limit managed to swerve off the road, over a patch of grass, and land right into somebodies six foot hedge lining their yard. All you had to do was winch the car out and check that the driver didn’t have any injures. It took less than half an hour.
But by the time you climbed back into the truck you felt like you had absolutely no energy left whatsoever, your shoulders slumped and your head limply resting backwards against the headrest in fatigue.
You were just absolutely exhausted, probably not helped by the rough nights you’d been having because of the phantom pains that seemed to plague you whenever you moved so much as an inch.
You considered asking to stay at the station for the next call, or just asking to stay at the station for the rest of your shift entirely at this point. You weren’t sure you’d have the physical capacities to be of any help at all, and if you were to tag along you’d just be a nuisance to everybody else as they tried to do their jobs.
You didn’t have to make that decision yourself, your body made it for you.
Buck had been extra attentive to you on the call, and that didn’t end once the truck parked in the station, he climbed down the truck’s side ladders before you, turning to hold out his hand so you’d have an extra balance point if you needed it whilst climbing down, but instead he was met with your clouded gaze, literally watching the moment your consciousness seems to slip away from your body as your foot misses one of the steps and causes to stumble forward.
He catches your weight him his arms before you can hit the floor, a panicked “Cap!” echoing through the engine bay as he lowers you to lie on the floor with your head resting on his thighs, all colour drained from your face as your eyes flicker underneath your eyelids.
Hen and Chimney are at your side before Bobby is, but he’s not far behind as the rest of the team circle you in concern.
“What happened?” Hen furrows her eyebrows as she watches Chimney check your heart rate, tightening a blood pressure cuff around your arm.
“I don’t know they just collapsed—” Buck’s voice mirrors his expression it’s panic.
“105/70, alright, lay them down on the floor, Eddie, put your jacket underneath their feet,” Hen removes the blood pressure cuff as Buck and Eddie rush to follow her instructions, and her and Chimney share a nod as they both confirm you’re not in any medical danger.
“Are they okay?” Buck hesitates to lie your head on the concrete floor, so his leaves his hand as a barrier between you and the floor.
“They’re fine, it’s just hypotension, do you know if they’ve eaten or drank anything today?” Hen puts a comforting hand on Buck’s shoulder to help calm his panic as the adrenaline from your collapse slowly dissipates.
“I asked if they were hungry earlier and they said they’d eat something later,” Buck presses his lips into a line, feeling mildly guilty about not pushing you to eat something earlier when he had the chance to.
Your head twitches in his hand before he has the time to drill himself into a spiral over it, and soon enough you’re squeezing your eyes shut tighter before flickering them open.
“There you are, welcome back to the land of the living,” Chimney rubs your shoulder with his hand as you wake, and promptly pushes you back to lying flat when you try to sit up. “No, stay there, you’ll only pass out again if you sit up too quickly,”
“What happened?” You squint your eyes under the harsh overhead lights, covering them with the back of your hand.
“You collapsed on the way out of the truck, gave us all a scare there for a moment,” Bobby crosses his arms as he steps into your line of sight, tone carrying reprimand but his expression laced in concern.
“Right… sorry,”
“Don’t apologise,” Bobby shakes his head shortly, “When was the last time you ate?”
“Uh…” You don’t know whether it’s the fact that you’ve just fainted, or the weird angle you’re currently at that’s making you slower than usual. “This morning,”
“It’s almost 4pm—” Buck’s voice announces you of his presence like he hasn’t been protecting your head from the concrete for the last five minutes with his hand, and you crane your head backwards to look up at him.
“I felt sick, I didn’t want to throw up everywhere that’s gross,” You groan slightly as your neck begins to ache. “Can I sit up now?”
“Slowly,” Hen takes your hand as she carefully pulls you to sit upright, and Buck remains on his knees behind you in case you need to lie back down again. “How are you feeling? Still lightheaded?”
“A little,” You rub the knuckle of your thumb over your forehead in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension lingering there, and Hen hums.
“Alright, it’s time for you to eat,” Buck places both of his hands on your shoulders as he stands, squeezing them softly before extending a hand out to help you back onto your feet, which you take without complaint.
“Okay,”
You let Buck lead you up to the open lounge with mild guilt written across your face. Guilt and embarrassment at the fact that you’d passed out in front of everyone.
“Okay, so we’ve got tomato and onion pasta bake, left over macaroni and cheese, uh…” Buck rifles through the fridge for what’s left of different Bobby creations over the last few days. “Ooh there’s lasagna in here, I might have to keep that for myself,”
He knows it’s not the funniest thing he’s ever said, but when he turns back to check on you, the way you’re sat blankly staring at the table doesn’t spell anything good.
“Hey,” Buck abandons his fridge endeavours with a small sigh, walking over to put his hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright? Really?”
You barely so much as acknowledge him, giving him a small hum as you rest your forehead on the palms of your hands. “I think I should go home…”
Your tone causes the worry to flood back into his features. “You have to eat something…”
“I don’t know if I can stomach it right now,” You close your eyes momentarily, slumping forward so your entire upper body weight is resting against your hands. “I still feel sick,”
He can’t really argue with you about that. Nauseousness was a pain in the ass. But that didn’t mean you didn’t need something in your body to help whatever deficit you were going through right now.
He takes a moment to think through his options, biting the inside of his cheek. “Uh… What about a protein shake? I’m pretty sure I left a few packets here somewhere—” Buck leaves your side to look through some of the kitchenette cupboards for protein shake packets he’d stoad hidden from the team.
“Ah,” He makes a sound of triumph as he retrieves them, holding them up above his head as he’s crouched behind the kitchen island so you can see them. “We have…” He turns the packets in his hand one by one. “Chocolate, banana, vanilla, strawberry, and… blueberry, take your pick,”
You give him a look that tells him you’d rather not have any of them, and a worry line forms in his forehead once more. “Come on… It’s like a milkshake, and you can drink it as slow as you want,” He walks back over to you slowly, the packets held out in his hands towards you so you can choose one. “Please? You’re starting to worry me for real now,”
You begrudgingly take one of the packets from his hands with a small sigh. His concern was appreciated, but it was also mildly daunting. You didn’t like the way his face furrowed when he was concerned about you, it didn’t suit him like smiling did.
“Thank you,” He takes the packet back from you once you’ve chosen which one you want, leaving the others discarded on the table as he prepares the drink for you. “Drink this and then go home and get some rest okay? I’ll drop by your apartment after the shift is over to check on you, and if you still feel really bad then we should go to the hospital,” His words are spoken unevenly as the exertion from shaking the drink canister reaches his vocal chords.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital Buck, I’m fine, i’ve just got the flu or something and pushed myself too hard,” You shake your head adamantly at his suggestion, and he mirrors it himself as he pours the drink into a glass and puts it on the table in front of you.
“Some people go to the hospital when they’ve got the flu and don’t push themselves too hard,” He points at the glass once it’s on the table. “Drink it,”
You oblige with a roll of your eyes, your first sip barely even considered one as you try and force yourself to swallow it through the invisible blockade in your throat.
“And maybe try and take a nap or something? You look exhausted,”
“Oh thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” a your voice is dripping with sarcasm, and it leaves a small smile on Buck’s face.
“You know what I mean,” He shakes his head lightly as he stashes away the remaining protein shake packets. “How much sleep did you get last night anyway?”
He asks you the question right as you go to take another sip of the shake, and you force yourself to swallow it uncomfortably to answer him. “Maybe like three hours? I had a really bad migraine and my lower back was hurting,”
Buck sighs loudly as he pulls out a chair to sit behind you, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it,”
“I know I know, that’s not good, i’ll work on it okay?”
“That’s all I can ask,” He gives you a small smile with a shrug of his shoulders.
—
You didn’t have to think about complying to Buck’s suggestion of going home, and after a long hour of trying to digest the protein shake in front of you, that’s exactly what you did.
The station felt remarkably quieter without you there, but that was arguably because everyone was still shrouded in a combined worry for your well being that left them more solemn than usual, their usual banter getting lost in the process.
Once the shift was over, Buck kept his word in heading straight to your apartment, knocking the door with no answer.
He questions whether he got the number right at first, but he’s been to your apartment enough times to know that he hasn’t just stumbled to the wrong door. And the longer it stays shut in his face the more worried he gets.
So he tries the door handle, and it opens, meaning you’d left your apartment unlocked.
He calls your name a few times as he walks in, a small rush of adrenaline making its way through his veins at the slight possibility that something could’ve happened in the few hours since you’d been home alone.
A small breath of relief escapes him as he finds you.
You were circled up into yourself on your couch, TV left on standby as you slept in what Buck assumed to be an extremely deep sleep.
How you manage to make that tiny sofa look like the most comfortable place in the world he doesn’t know, but you seem to be more than happy wedged into the corner with a decorative pillow clutched tightly against your chest.
It’s a welcome sight after everything you’d been through today, and Buck rifles around to find a blanket to throw over you before taking a seat on the other end of the couch and settling in for an evening of watching random movies on your TV until you woke up.
Even if that meant him staying overnight.
#9 1 1#evan buckley#9 1 1 fanfiction#buck x reader#evan buckley x reader#evan buckley angst#evan buckley fluff#oliver stark#asks 🚒
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NCT DREAM + MORE SIMPLE DATES !
[ mark ]
making tiramisu at home when neither of you know what you're doing and only have some vague instructions that he downloaded off the internet
the apron he wears does a poor job at protecting his clothes because he still ends up getting cream and sugar everywhere
all the “dude (affectionate), just trust me” and you, in fact, do not trust him when he looks so messy that even his eyebrows are covered in powder
the tiramisu ends up tasting spicy because he didn't look at the label and dumped in chili powder instead of cocoa powder
you have to fight to keep a straight face and tell him it tastes fine when you take the first bite because how could you say no when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes
[ renjun ]
curling up in the blanket after a shower and having him blow dry your hair when you had a long day
tenderly runs his fingers through your hair to detangle everything and gives you the gentlest scalp massage
hums in acknowledgment as he carefully listens to you rant about everything that annoyed you throughout the day and offers to beat up that one person who really got on your nerves
pulls the blanket back up when it starts to slip off your shoulder and bundles you up until you can barely move your arms
soothingly pats your head with a soft smile when he sees you looking drowsy by the time your hair is all dry and lays your head on his lap so you can comfortably finish talking about your day
[ jeno ]
eating cereal on the kitchen floor half awake at some ungodly hour because you couldn't go back to sleep and he didn't want you to eat alone
you thought you were quiet when you inched out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen but he's a light sleeper, sensed you moving, and trailed right after you
he never questions you and just takes a seat right next to you on the floor, happily nodding when you sheepishly ask if he would like some cereal too
you randomly propose a toast and clink your bowl with his before taking a sip of the milk, and he simply follows along
holds your hand and rubs your back as the sun rises, and you realize you couldn’t be more grateful for him
[ haechan ]
having him squeeze behind you into the limited space on your chair and cling onto you like a koala when you're just trying to finish your work
swears he won’t distract you and just wants to be with you (it’s a lie) and even offers to help you complete your work when he doesn’t even know what you’re doing
doesn’t do much at first and stays so stay that you actually find the gentle drum of his heart against your back calming
but then he gets bored after a few moments and roughly digs his nose into your neck until you’re shoving his head away
somehow persuades you into taking a short break but never actually allows you to return to the task because he can��t possibly let go once he has your full attention
[ jaemin ]
unboxing and testing the various lip balm samples that you got in the mail to see which one you should actually invest in
is somehow even more excited than you are and leans in so close that you can barely see the box because he’s hovering right above it
the look of disgust on his face is unmistakable when he sees the strawberry lip balm in the package and makes you pinky promise to never use that one
steals a kiss from you when you try the coffee lip balm and sends your brain short circuiting and heart reeling
he somehow ends up with even glossier, smoother lips than you do after he goes through every single one and decides the coffee one is indeed his favorite
[ chenle ]
helping him clean out his overflowing closet but it turns into a 'which piece of clothing is going into your collection next' search instead
lets you be his personal stylist and pick out outfits that he models for you with a little twirl
thinks you look cute in every single shirt of his you try on, and his cute aggression flares up a few times where he propels himself forward and knocks the wind out of you in a bear hug
when you confess that you've stolen a few of his hoodies, he just knowingly nods and laughs because he has definitely left them behind at your place on purpose
you're wearing about eight layers of clothes and dragging three huge bags of things from his closet home with you by the end
[ jisung ]
making beaded jewelry while binging your favorite movies in a questionable pillow fort that looks like it's seconds away from collapsing
he meticulously measures your wrist to get the perfect length and vows to make you the coolest bracelet ever
gets so focused on trying to loop the string through the beads that he hasn't been paying attention to the movies at all because he wants it to be perfect
but then he spills everything and all the blankets come crashing down when he frantically scrambles to salvage the bracelet and accidentally rams his body into the structure
it's impossible to locate every little bead so it feels like you're stepping on legos for the next three days when they keep on randomly popping up under your feet (10/10 would still do it again)
#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct fluff#nct dream scenarios#nct dream fluff#nct headcanons#mark scenarios#renjun scenarios#jeno scenarios#haechan scenarios#jaemin scenarios#chenle scenarios#jisung scenarios
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Overprepared
word count: 947 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.
pairing: University!AU Kuroo x chubby virgin!Reader
genre: suggestive fluff, humor, no descriptions of the act™
warnings: mdni, one time swearing, suggestiveness
synopsis: it’s your birthday and you decide you’re ready to take the next step with your boyfriend (chaotically)
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You sat at your kitchen counter, watching open mouthed as your boyfriend cooked. You were skeptical at first when he told you he wanted to make you dinner for your birthday but to your great surprise he seemed to know what he was doing and... It was pretty darn attractive.
There he was, chopping and stirring and flipping, wearing a clean black apron over well fitted jeans and a black shirt and wielding your chef’s knife as if he had never done anything else in his life.
When he turned around to ask you something he caught you biting your lip and gave his signature cocky grin.
"Seeing something you like?"
"Not gonna lie, this might be the hottest thing you've ever done.", you noted, popping a stray piece of shredded chicken into your mouth.
"Well, now you know why I love watching you cook.", he winked.
You looked at him incredulously. "You are always this turned on when I cook for you?"
He shrugged. "Basically yeah. But it's also really relaxing at the same time. It's weird.", he booped your nose, before feeding you a spoonful of steaming broth.
"Too salty?"
"Mmmh. No, it's perfect!"
He beamed and turned the heat off.
"Then, my birthday girl, dinner is ready."
He plated up and carefully pushed your bowl across the counter.
You toasted with an ice cold capri sun and started a discussion about whether or not cereal could be considered a soup.
Once dinner was over and your kitchen cleaned again, you sighed happily.
"So.", you flung your arms around his neck and stood on tip-toes.
He kissed your forehead, "What do you wanna do first?"
"Super Smash Bros?"
"You read my mind."
Since your roommates were gone for the weekend you decided to have Tetsurou sleep over. He had done so many times before but besides the occasional make out session it had always ended rather innocently, both of you too shy to make an actual move. But today you felt ready.
Tetsurou came out of the steaming bathroom wearing his usual sweatpants and t-shirt to find you on the couch in a little pink pajama set he’d never seen before. He grinned and plopped down next to you.
"You still have", Tetsurou consulted his watch as you climbed into his lap, "82 mins of birthday left."
His hands wandered over your plush bare thighs, making you shiver and shift in his lap.
You kissed for a while, his hands restlessly roaming over your soft body, feeling a jolt in his lower abdomen whenever you gave a quiet moan or gasp when he touched you somewhere you liked.
He was sure you could feel him pressing against you, when you rolled your hips like that, and that made him braver. His touches and kisses became deeper and more forward, but he was ready to retreat at the first sign of discomfort.
You pulled away, panting slightly, your lips blushed.
As you adjusted in his lap a strap of your tank fell off your shoulder but you made no moves to fix it. His mouth felt dry and he swallowed.
You put both hands on his shoulders and sat up straighter, your neck oh so tempting in front of him.
He looked up into your eyes, slightly hidden behind strands of still damp hair.
You moved again, unmistakably grinding against him, making him suck in a harsh breath and you smiled.
"You sure?", he asked quietly.
You nodded.
"If you want me to stop at any time, you tell me, okay?"
You nodded again.
"You, too."
He scoffed and kissed the tip of your nose, "Sure."
Out of nervousness you stretched out your smallest finger.
"Pinky promise?"
Tetsurou bit his lip from laughing again and curled his pinky around yours.
"Pinky promise."
You stood up and your finger still holding on, you led him to your bedroom.
"Shit, wait, the condoms are in my bag.", Tetsurou cursed and wanted to get up from your bed again but you stopped him.
"I gotcha covered.", you said coolly and opened your bedside drawer.
A little while after you had started dating and when make outs became a more frequent thing, you had made a trip to a drugstore around the corner and stocked up on contraceptives.
Since you were unsure about the judgment of sizes in different brands, and seeing as you had never bought condoms before, you had grabbed a pack from every size just to be safe.
He grinned and took a look into the drawer, then frowned and picked up a pack.
"XS? Really?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was going to be working with."
"But XS!?"
"Oh, I'm sorry that I didn't study your crotch or held up a banana for reference or ask Kenma for help.", you said sarcastically.
“Why Kenma?”
You just shrugged.
“Are there rumors?”
“Fskdjsf - do you want there to be rumors?”
“I mean to be fair, I could do a lot worse than him. Like you for example.”
“Oh, now I see. You don’t want to have sex. Gotcha. My bad.”
“Tch, at least Kenma would know it’s not XS…”, he muttered.
“Babe, do you maybe have something to tell me?, you snorted.
“I'll show you XS.", he said with a mock grumble.
And then grabbed the largest size.
"Kuroo Tetsurou, if this slides off, I will laugh at you forever.", you said sternly.
You looked at each other.
After a few seconds you lifted your brow to underline your point and with a small huff he took a size smaller.
"You better believe I'm not gonna be gentle with you anymore now.", he lied.
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#kuroo x chubby reader#haikyuu x chubby reader#kuroo smut#kuroo fluff#kuroo x reader#kuroo testuro#hq kuroo#haikyuu kuroo#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x you#haikyuu smut#haikyuu fluff#chubby reader
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Ummm I'm obsessed with your writing- I think I've gone through your blog more like a ravenous animal than a reader.. thank you for giving such beautiful angst to the starving ferals. A complete Soap stan but I definitely died over the Price extended fights and fast cars piece too shdfkajgf.
I'd love to see your take on Soap being himself and accidentally taking it too far. Not in a genuinely mean way- reader getting overstimulated/overwhelmed (just not in the mood) and it flying over his head. Accidental bully syndrome with a sad puppy combo? Can be a fluffy ending or angsty ending, whatever you feel is more accurate!
Anyways I will happily snort the alphabet in any order you deem appropriate and thank you for keeping us fed!!
Warnings: Soap being a butthead, reader gets their feelings hurt(totally valid), cursing, sad Soap, use of Y/N, GN reader
“Mac.” You groaned. You were currently trying to work your way out of a headlock. You usually didn’t hate being trapped by Johnny’s perfect arms but you just weren’t in a good mood today. You didn’t sleep good last night. You had been surviving off a piece of toast from this morning. You were late for training with Ghost causing him to rip you a new one. You wanted nothing more than to make a quick microwave meal and sleep for fifteen hours.
“Can’t even get out of a headlock? Bit of an embarrassment to SAS, kiddo.” Johnny teased, tightening his grip.
“If I wanted to I could kick your bubble butt.” You gasped, tapping out. He quickly let go, patting your shoulders. He tsked his tongue shaking his head in disagreement.
“Johnny eat your food.” Ghost grumbled, taking a bite out of his own food. You watched patiently as your food spun around in the microwave, ready to grab it as soon as the neon green read end. You probably should’ve just grabbed it and gone to your room, but you plopped down at the kitchen island. “You did good today Y/N.” Ghost broke the silence. You looked up at him with wide eyes. “When you finally did show up.” A small smirk across his face.
“How come Y/N always gets compliments?” Johnny interjected before you could thank your Lieutenant. “If I was late you’d write me up.”
“Because they’re improving and putting in work. The only thing you put work into is that landing strip on your head.” Ghost chuckled, pushing Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny gave a fake chuckle and slapped his hand away.
“I still don’t buy that.” Johnny continued through a full mouth. He hopped up from his seat, beginning to wash his plate. “If it wasn’t for that big brain Y/N would be as useful as a rock.” He quipped. Your stomach dropped. It’s true you weren’t the strongest on the field when it came to combat, but you were a modern day Sherlock Holmes - able to find a way to get the team through any mission no matter the circumstances.
The pit in your stomach caused you to toss your dinner in the trash, retreating into your room without a word.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ghost growled. Johnny set his dish on the drying rack, turning to face Ghost.
Then he realized you were gone.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Johnny stumbled quickly. A wave of guilt washed over him. You knew he was kidding right? Did he tease you- of course, but he always made it obvious he thought the world of you. Constantly spewing out compliments and praises your way.
“You called ‘em useless you arse.”
“As a joke.” Johnny pressed, cringing himself at his words. “Shite.” He growled. He took note of your barley eaten dinner in the trash, grabbing bread and cheese from the fridge. He hoped a grilled cheese would be a decent peace offering.
“Y/N?” Johnny tapped his knuckles against your door gently. He didn’t hear a response. He took it upon himself to slowly open your door. You threw the covers over your head, wanting to hide from him and the light seeping into your room. “I’m sorry for what I said Kiddo. Y’know I didn’t mean it that way.” He apologized softly. He placed the plate down on your nightstand, siting on the edge of your bed. “We both know I couldn’t do what you do. I’ve toasted too many brain cells for that.” He chuckled nervously. He scratched at the back of his neck, growing more and more worried as the silence grew. “I made you a sandwich.” He rambled. “Come out and eat it please. I know I wrecked your appetite but you need to eat, keep your strength up.”
“Strength for what. Rocks don’t need nutrients remember.” It wasn’t your best comeback but you didn’t care. Johnny cringed.
“I was a bastard.” He apologized again. “I’ll let you sleep now.” He sighed heading towards the door.
After Johnny closed the door you quickly drifted off to sleep not waking up until your alarm went off the next morning. You instinctively braced yourself for your door to slam open and a heavy body tumble through it but that never came. You shut your alarm off, groggily pulling yourself out of bed. The cold grilled cheese on your nightstand brought back the memories of last night.
“Oh Mac.” You mumbled sadly. You grabbed the plate and made your way out to the kitchen. There was no sign of Johnny. You continued your morning routine hoping to bump into the Scot. You had no such luck. You were finally able to track him down in the training room. “Tavy!”
He swiftly placed his weights back on the rack sitting up to look at you. His eyes were red.
“Hey kid.” He smiled. Your demeanor seemed more like yourself. “I’m sor”-
“I know Mac.” You interjected. “You wouldn’t try to hurt me on purpose. Yesterday just wasn’t my day.” You explained, picking at your fingers. He gripped your hands in his.
“I know, that’s the worst part. I should’ve backed off but I pushed you. I won’t do it again, I promise.” He spoke sincerely. “I don’t think your useless either. If it wasn’t for you I’d probably be dead by now.”
“Probably?” You smirked. The familiar playful glint came back to his eyes.
“Definitely.” He corrected.
(Mac/Tavy)= nicknames for Soap. You can’t tell me that man wouldn’t gobble up any nickname thrown at him
I feel so bad this has been rotting in my drafts! Thank you for your kind words and love of angst🥰
#d0youc0py#doyoucopy#cod#cod mw2#cod mw3#soap x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#soap#feat Ghost#angst#happy ending#cod men#cod x reader#fluff#sfw#cod mwf2
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[ID: An extreme close-up of ground spices in various shades of brown and orange laid out in lines on a plate. End ID]
سبع بهارات فلسطينية / Seb'a baharat falastinia (Palestinian seven-spice)
Seb'a baharat is one of a few spice blends often referred to in English simply as “baharat” (the plural of Arabic بهار / bahar, “spice”). A warm, earthy blend, it is commonly used to season meat, fish, and poultry in the Levant, Eastern Arabia, and Egypt, where recipes differ from region to region and from person to person. Common ingredients include cumin, cardamom, black pepper, nutmeg, and cinnamon.
Palestinian versions of seb'a baharat are usually dominated by allspice, black pepper, and cinnamon, giving them a pungent and sweet head; nutmeg, cloves, and cardamom provide additional warmth, while cumin and coriander often round out the blend with earthiness and a hint of florality. Ginger is also an occasional inclusion.
By the early 2010s, decades of Israeli taxation on exports and imports of non-Israeli goods had eroded Palestinian economic and culinary self-determination; Israel had instituted further blockades of the Gaza border in 2007, leading to a sharp decline in exports. Several farmers in Gaza turned to growing spices and herbs, including cumin and ginger, on their farms with the intention of finding a profitable market for them in Europe. However, frequent border closings, punitive export taxes, and Israeli shooting at Palestinian farmers who were attempting to work their land, made the plan unviable.
More recently, Palestinians have continued to work to find new ways to produce food despite shrinking access to arable land and fresh water. Resisting Israeli targeting of Palestinian food self-sufficiency is a matter, not just of subsistence and economic power, but of identity and dignity.
Today, Israel's total siege of Gaza continues as civilians run out of food, water, power, and medical supplies. Medical Aid for Palestinians (MAP) has put out an urgent call for donations to provide medical supplies to hospitals when supply lines reopen. Also contact your representatives in the USA, UK, and Canada.
Ingredients:
1 Tbsp ground allspice (6.6g; 1 Tbsp + 1 tsp allspice berries)
1/2 Tbsp ground black pepper (6.2g; 1/2 Tbsp black peppercorns)
1/2 Tbsp ground cinnamon (5.3g; 1 large stick Chinese cassia)
1 1/4 tsp ground coriander (2g; 1 1/2 tsp coriander seeds)
1 tsp ground nutmeg (1.4g; 1/2 nutmeg)
1 tsp ground cloves (2g; 1 1/4 tsp whole cloves)
1 tsp ground cardamom (scant 1/2 Tbsp pods; 2.6g just seeds)
3/4 tsp ground cumin (2.1g; scant tsp cumin seeds)
Instructions:
1. In a mortar and pestle or using the flat of a knife, roughly crush nutmeg and cinnamon.
2. In a dry skillet over medium heat, toast whole spices one at a time until each is strongly fragrant. Remove from heat and allow to cool in a single layer on a large plate.
3. Grind all spices together in a mortar and pestle or a spice mill. Pass through a sieve to remove large pieces. Store in an airtight jar in a cool, dark place.
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return to sender
Nightbringer AU. Wherein unsent letters are finally delivered to their intended recipients.
Before Lesson 40 dropped in NB, I often wondered where the letters MC wrote when they were about to be kicked out of the Devildom disappeared to. This fic was also inspired by the lesson where the brothers were talking about their pacts with MC and it sounded like they really regretted it :/
Hopefully you found me helpful from time to time?
Don't push yourself too hard, "big brother."
.
.
.
"SURPRISE!"
The blindfold is pulled away with a flourish, and the first thing that catches your attention is the large banner spanning the entire restaurant with the words "THANK YOU" splashed across in bright colors. Everyone is dressed to the nines, holding party poppers and showering you in confetti, but all you can think about is how tedious the cleanup will be afterwards.
As though reading your mind, Diavolo speaks on behalf of those present. "You are our guest of honor tonight, so please, put all thoughts of work aside and enjoy yourself to the fullest!"
So that's why Asmo has been pestering you about your measurements lately. To his credit, the outfit he personally tailored for you makes you look like you belong in the upper echelon of demon society. Not that there are others around to pass judgement; Ristorante Six is fully booked this evening for the future demon king and his entourage.
"Here, I hope you're hungry." Beel hands you an untouched plate of food, piled high with all the expensive items you can only dream of ordering and then some. Even though half of it is almost gone already, the buffet tables lining the walls feature a generous spread of your favorite dishes.
"A toast," Lucifer announces at one point, raising a glass of blood-red demonus, "to our dutiful attendant."
Everyone follows suit, and a part of you wishes there was actual alcohol in your drink. You're way too sober for an occasion such as this. Still, you smile and laugh along.
"Cheers!"
.
.
.
Thank you for always thinking of me.
I always had fun when we were together.
.
.
.
When you finally find the time to visit what's left of Cocytus Hall, all you see is a ring of rubble surrounding a massive sinkhole no one has bothered to clean up yet. Though, in light of recent events, you're not surprised rebuilding isn't on the list of Diavolo's priorities, if it even makes the list to begin with.
The brothers have spared no expense in replacing your personal belongings, furnishing the spare room in the House of Lamentation with all the material comforts to make your residence as cushy as possible. Their personal attendant deserves nothing less, after all. You have everything you could ever need, and yet...
Dirt cakes your skin and wedges under your nails as you start digging with your bare hands, determined to salvage what you can from the remains of your former home. You aren't looking for anything in particular, not that there's much that managed to survive the collapse intact. A crumpled book here, a chipped flowerpot there, scraps of clothing pinned under debris, a thick piece of fabric with 'Kiss The Cook' embroidered on it—
The dam finally bursts. You clutch Solomon's apron to your chest and fall to your knees.
"Come back!" You sob, coughing and choking on dust between desperate gulps of air. "Please, I can't do this without you! Come back! I need you, Sol—"
No one hears you wailing into the night. No one helps you up when your tears run dry at last, when your bones ache with exhaustion and you can't feel your legs anymore.
You have no one to turn to, nowhere else to go, and as you drag your feet back to the House of Lamentation, you pretend you can still feel your mentor’s warmth on the tattered apron wrapped tightly around your shoulders.
.
.
.
Make sure to take good care of Snake Henry, okay?
I know you'll make an amazing demon.
.
.
.
"Oi, watch it!"
In the blink of an eye, you find yourself swept off your feet and cradled protectively in Mammon's arms. A shower of rocks and bricks crashes to the ground where you were standing not one second ago.
"Are ya alright? Are ya hurt anywhere?"
"I'm okay! Thanks for the save, Mammon." You gently swat his hands away once you're sure your knees won't buckle. Mammon continues to hover over you, but at least he's stopped checking every inch of your body for injuries.
"This is all Levi's fault," the demon grumbles. "Him and his stupid Envy summoning Lotan—"
"Hey, come on. He wasn't in control and you know it."
"I hate to agree with Mammon, but it totally is when we all have to clean up his mess." Belphie wanders over with a frown, having noticed the commotion. "Why didn't you use your magic to shield yourself?"
"...That's what I have you guys for!" You take a step back to dust yourself off. "Seriously, I owe you one."
"Getting others to do the work for you? Nice." Belphie gives you a thumbs up. You laugh when Mammon tries and fails to ruffle his hair in retaliation.
.
.
.
Someday we should both go bookstore hopping!
You're fine just the way you are, Satan.
.
.
.
"Is it just me, or do they seem more tired than usual?"
"Not tired per se, more like defeated?"
"We don't exactly make it easy for them. Plus there's all the stuff happening with the Little D's lately..."
"Maybe they're still upset we didn't make pacts with them."
"Nah, I don't think so. I mean, it's our decision too, and they gotta respect it!"
"They have done a lot for us since becoming our attendant. How about we treat them to a nice dinner? Take them out for a night in town, all expenses paid for."
"A fine idea. I'll run it by Lord Diavolo and see if we can arrange something."
.
.
.
Looking forward to the next Asmo Night!
I love you! More than words can say!
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.
.
There's a chilly breeze in the air tonight, but being bracketed by two demons helps to keep the cold at bay.
"Are you sure you don't want to share my scarf? It's long enough for the both of us~"
"I'm certain you can fit my jacket just fine too."
"Guys, I'm alright!" Their overprotectiveness warms your heart. "We're almost back at Cocytus Hall anyway."
"Already?" Asmo pouts, shifting the bag of groceries to his other arm so that his now-free hand can grab yours. "I told you we should have taken the scenic route! It's so hard to spend time with— Hm?"
The demon lifts your hand and squints at your bare fingers. "No ring today? I noticed you don't wear it anymore."
"Oh, that?" You tug free of his grasp with a small laugh. "I just put it away for safekeeping, that's all. A Celestial item in the Devildom does tend to draw attention..."
"Makes sense. Plus it's Lucifer's, so you shouldn't even be wearing it in the first place," Satan huffs.
Before long, the three of you arrive at the front door of Cocytus Hall. Asmo peers through the dark windows with a curious hum. "Is Solomon not home? Seems like he's never around nowadays..."
"He has some business to take care of in the human world. It's nothing he can't handle by himself, so I'm on my own for a while."
"Why didn't you say so earlier? We could have a sleepover, or you could come stay with us! I'm sure it gets pretty lonely at night—"
"Knowing you and your brothers, I'd never catch a wink of sleep," you deadpan.
"Speaking of, we do need you at the castle early tomorrow." Satan sounds almost apologetic. "Lord Diavolo wants to coordinate efforts for rebuilding after Lotan's flood."
"Understood, I'll be there."
"Get some beauty sleep tonight, okay? See you in the morning!"
Asmo blows you a kiss while Satan hugs you goodbye. Once they leave, you make sure the front door is locked tight behind you before allowing your shoulders to slump.
.
.
.
Put your name on any treats you put in the fridge.
Keep your brothers safe, okay?
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.
You love the brothers, you really do, but some days you just want to kick their asses to the Celestial Realm. It never fails to astound you how these centuries-old beings can be so immature.
"—umpteenth time, no brawling in the house!" If it were possible, there would be steam coming out of your ears by now. "What if the fire had spread to the rest of the library?"
"But Mammon ate my—"
"I don't care!" You snarl over Beel's protests, already feeling a headache building at the back of your skull. "If you want to pick a fight with one another, fine! Just take it outside!"
"Ugh, you're not the boss of us!" Belphie snaps back, flicking his tail irritably. "Some of us weren't even involved in this, so leave us out of it!"
The word 'stay' is at the tip of your tongue, ready to put your rowdy demons in their place, and it takes everything in you to hold it in, knowing it won't do any good.
"What the blazes is going on here?!" Lucifer storms in before you can say anything else. "Are you lot not capable of staying out of trouble for one day? And you!"
You flinch as the first-born rounds on you. "I thought I could count on you to have things under control. I'm disappointed to see that I was wrong."
"H-hey, it's not their fault," Levi stammers, looking visibly guilty now that Lucifer has turned his ire towards you. Next to him, the rest of his brothers fidget uncomfortably. "We'll clean this up, okay? So why don't you take it easy on—"
"All of you return to your rooms this instant." Lucifer refuses to budge. "I will supervise to make sure our attendant actually does their job properly this time."
And there goes the rest of your day. You grit your teeth and nod obediently, ignoring the demons filing out of the library one by one, some murmuring apologies as they shuffle past you.
This is fine.
.
.
.
Someday I'll buy you the ultimate alarm clock.
I love that happy look you have while you sleep.
.
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.
"You're the only one who can tell them what happened."
You curl Solomon's fingers over a small stack of letters, written what feels like years ago but never handed to their intended recipients.
If Solomon seemed upset before, he looks downright devastated when you place the Ring of Light on top of the pile, the final nail in the coffin. "We'll find another way," he pleads. "You and me, just— Don't make me do this, please."
"It's too late for me and you know it." You avert your gaze, unable to maintain eye contact with the one person who kept you sane throughout this entire nightmare. "My magic is as good as dead, but you still have enough for a one-way trip."
"I can ask Barbatos for help, I'll do anything he wants—"
"They'll take care of me here, I know it. They may not be the same, but they're still my boys."
Anger and jealousy flash briefly across the sorcerer's face. "If only they knew..."
"All the more they wouldn't let me go," you sigh, rubbing his white knuckles with your thumbs. "They're fresh from the war, strangers in a strange land, and Lucifer just pledged loyalty to Diavolo. Do you really think he'd allow what's left of his family to give their freedom away? To a human no less? I can't use them Sol, not like this."
"You wouldn't hurt them!"
"I know, but they don't. They don't know me here, and by the time they do, we'll both be doomed."
"But Nightbringer—"
"Whatever he’s planning won't work, not without those pacts." Your eyes harden at the thought, determined not to play whatever game this father of demons was trying to pull. "So really, this is for the best. Besides, there's another you running around during this time period. Maybe I'll bump into him someday. Can't have the two of you together, that's too much good food for me."
Despite the weak joke, Solomon cracks a sad smile. "I've never been able to say no to you, my dear apprentice. But before I go, may I?"
You meet Solomon halfway, pressing your lips against his, losing yourself in his arms one last time while trying to imprint the smell of old spell books and spices into your brain.
"Are you sure I can't change your mind?" He whispers, one last-ditch effort even though the answer is clear in your watery eyes.
"Please," you shake your head, "do this last thing for me."
.
.
.
I always enjoyed the time we spent together.
I hope you never forget me.
Take care of yourselves, okay?
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At the call of your name, you turn around to see a familiar demon rushing through the hallways of RAD towards you, only stopping once you're within arm's reach.
"Hi Barbatos, did you need something?" You frown, noticing his somewhat unkempt state up close. A loose button in one corner, collar not done up all the way— It's as close to disheveled as you've ever seen him, not to mention the tips of his horns and tail are quivering slightly.
The butler doesn't answer. He continues to stare at you with a foreign look in his eyes, which have started to mist over.
"...Hey, are you alright?"
Barbatos breathes your name again, in a tone you haven't heard since Solomon left this timeline altogether, and something buried deep inside your heart sings.
#writing#obey me#obey me fanfic#obey me nightbringer#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me solomon
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[🌸] careful pt.1 w/ txt
✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / fluff 🌸 / idol!txt / non.idol!you / minor cursing (none with ill-intention!) / mentions of small injuries, blood and bruises (nothing serious!)
✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 500 words for each member / altogether, word count: 2,494 words
✿ in which he get injured and you tend to his injury…
edit: pt.2 here is here!
[masterlist 🌸] / other members under the cut! / @kflixnet 🩹
[🐰] soobin
the soft gasp that leaves soobin’s lips comes involuntarily the second he feels a prick on his fingertip. apparently, it was loud enough to make you look up from what you were doing (which was spreading jam on the toast), eyes widening at the sight of red dots forming on his skin.
before he can do anything about it, your hands already soothe his grip away that he has to succumb to you tending to him quietly. he watches attentively as you attend to him. using a damp tissue to wipe away the blood, then patting it dry with another piece of tissue.when you set his hand down on the counter, he remains unmoving as he watches you peel open the bandaid. you pick his hand up, making sure he has it hovered in your direction so you can wrap where he's cut himself. the moment you're done, you let go of him just so you can get a good look at him.
he has this apologetic look on his face but still so–"be careful," you mutter under your breath, using a hand to nudge the side of his head.
he scoffs a laugh at the change of your demeanor when he knows for a fact you meant well given the look of concern in your eyes. as you turn to dispose of the scraps, you feel arms sliding around your waist. it makes you smile when soobin hooks his chin on your shoulder, chest molding against your back as he hums against the side of your head, "thank you."
tl;dr: silent at first but turns to a pile of mush when he processes what had just happened or what you did for him. he knows he can be a bit clumsy sometimes and being loud can scare him at times. so he’ll really, really appreciate if you were quiet and calm with his carelessness and the attentiveness you show him truly melts him into a puddle. such a big softie, but doesn’t forget to show and tell you he’s grateful for you.
[🦊] yeonjun
the loud thud that comes from the living room is what pries you from the confines of your shared bedroom. you walk out to see yeonjun on the floor, clutching his ankle with clenched-shut eyes. yeonjun is prepared for the way his ankle stings but he finds that his hands are being brushed away. he carefully peels his eyes open to see that you're here with him, cream for strained muscles in one hand, the other pushing up the cuff of his pants.
“hey..." he mumbles, trying to grab back his ankle, but you hush him and tell him to–"stay still. don't do anything."
he's about to object, mouth opening and all but when you turn to look at him with a slight glare, he closes his mouth and seals it shut.
"hold this up," you instruct, motioning for your hands to hold up one side of his pant leg. he nods without a word and puts his hands there so that both of your hands are free to get to work. he yelps at the initial pain as you start to massage his ankle. he could've sworn he noticed the way your eyes widen with worry, and immediately you adjust your pressure so it's not as hard. in gentle circular motions, yeonjun feels the pain start to alleviate. he still needs to go to the clinic for a checkup but this... this soothed his heart better than any medicine.
when you're done, you attempt to get up from the floor but find that you can't when yeonjun has a hand on your wrist. the cold side of you diminishes at the sight of yeonjun's wide eyes, the small pout on his face. you sigh and let go of whatever was in your hands, crawling over to him to give him a hug. he breathes out a relieved sigh and curls his arms around you, burying his face in your neck with a murmured thank you, dunno what i'd do without you.
tl;dr: now, you can’t be mad at yeonjun given that he would probably injure himself by working too hard or wearing himself thin. he gives a hundred percent and more in almost everything he does so he’d definitely be at your mercy if you tend to his wounds or injuries during one of those moments. he’ll try to be chatty about it but would be quick to shut it if he sees that you’re not in the mood to talk (knowing very well he’d react the same seeing his loved one in pain). after he sees you’re done tending to him, though, expect to shower this man with love and affection because c’mon, you can’t deny that face.
[🐯] beomgyu
it was barbeque night, which meant that beomgyu would be tending the grill with yeonjun like most nights. you were there to help kai and soobin with drinks, while taehyun set up the table. today, however, you were in charge of setting up the table next to where the boys were manning the grill. a slight slip of hand causes beomgyu to yelp. yeonjun flinches at the sound that spiked through the noisy environment, while you get up to–"yah..." beomgyu whines under his breath, turning to you the second he hears you moving past him.
he holds his wrist out, jutting his bottom lip as if to silently say hey… look at this… you spare him a couple of seconds, then you sigh as you lightly brush the side of his arm to get back into the house. yeonjun tries to intercept, his hand darting out to grab onto beomgyu's wrist but–"dude, let me see," yeonjun huffs when beomgyu doesn't allow yeonjun to help.
all beomgyu does is wait as he holds up the tongs to keep yeonjun at his place. five, four, three–"c'mere," your voice is soft, but it is commanding enough that beomgyu follows your voice. he mindlessly shoves the tongs into yeonjun's hands (who mutters what the hell?! as he tries to hold onto it before it falls). beomgyu presses his lips to a thin line as he stands by you sitting down by the table, a small first aid kit popped open. he lets out a soft ah! as you wipe down on the red patch, but when you peek up at him, he slowly closes his mouth to form a small smile.
you scoff a laugh, applying a cooling gel before wrapping loosely a layer of bandage on his wrist. before you can go back inside to put the first aid kit away, beomgyu's quick to hold your hand to stop you. just as you look over your shoulder, beomgyu lunges forward to kiss your cheek. you can't even be mad when he's smiling at you like that; sparks twinkling in his eyes. you shake his hand off so you can ruffle his hair, then nudge him by the cheek, "careful, you idiot."
"your idiot!" beomgyu calls out when you turn your back and walk away.
tl;dr: could go one of both ways. one, he’ll be the biggest baby and want you to baby him, or two, he’ll brush it off like it’s nothing because he doesn’t want you to worry. whichever one, though, it always ends with you tending to him (even if he didn’t intend for you to find out in the first place). given his bold and loud character, he wouldn’t mind if you’re teasing him about it to make light of the situation, but he would appreciate it just as much if you were calm and quiet about it, just patiently attending to his injuries. whichever one it is, though, the fact that you show you care about him to take care of him is enough to make him admire you quietly (and loudly afterward).
[🐿] taehyun
the minute you hear a muffled aish! coming from the bathroom, you're already stopping whatever you're doing to head toward the sound. nudging the door open, you're seeing taehyun in his boxers with a razor in his hand, remnants of shaving cream on his chin with a small cut lining the side of his jaw.
"it's nothing, it's just a small–"taehyun's cut off when you tsk at him and snatch the razor from his hand. "hey..." he mumbles when you ignore him, merely holding him by the shoulder so you can lean in to help him shave the remaining areas. he can't even say anything and resort to staying still so you can help him until you're done.
when you are, you wash the razor and reach for a cloth to wet it in the sink. you turn back to him to clean his chin, along his jaw, and the sides of his cheeks. after that, you reach for the packet of small bandaids specifically for this reason in the mirror cabinet. retrieving a piece and closing it, you look up to see taehyun keeping a straight face over your shoulder.
it makes you click your tongue, deciding to shove the bandaid into his hands but he's steady enough to grip your hands before you can pull away completely, with a smile spreading on his face, "ah... not gonna help me until the end?"
you scoff and try to shake his hands off, to no avail when he still has this shit-eating grin on his face. you let him hold onto your hands as you huff at him, "what're you all smiley for?"
"i mean... i got someone who cares for me when i get hurt. what's there not to smile about?"
you huff and use a hand to hit his chest, "you weren't even gonna call me for help."
he raises a brow with a chuckle, "it's just a small cut. nothing i can't handle."
when you meet his eyes with a frown, he gives in almost too quickly with a laugh. "ah... okay, okay. i'll call you next time, okay? i'll be so hopelessly annoying you'd wish i'd never called for your help."
you don't respond, only frowning deeper with the lines creasing your forehead. he laughs harder, but stops eventually as he lifts up the piece of bandaid.
"okay, i'll stop. could you please help me?"
you nudge his hands away so you can take back the piece of bandaid, stepping closer and ripping apart the wrapper so you can place the bandaid carefully on him to seal up the small cut. when you're done, you grab the scraps and intend on leaving the bathroom, but taehyun's arms around your waist prohibit you from doing so. he turns you to face the mirror, where you're able to see his smile peeking from over your shoulder.
"i know i was messing around earlier, but now i am going to call you for help."
you use a hand to crumple the trash, the other free to rub his bare arms around you. "why?"
"because when you do it, it doesn't hurt anymore."
you can't even be mad when you know based on taehyun's voice alone, he's being genuine and sincere. (that handsome, idiotic little shit)
tl;dr: this boy would be well-prepared to handle it on his own and he kind of means it when he says he’s okay because he’ll know how to ask for help when he really needs it. plus, he wouldn’t want you to worry for nothing. but when he sees how much it makes you feel better that you get to help him, in all honesty, it makes him feel better knowing that you’re here to tend to him, too. so he’ll give in once in a while to allow you to tend to him but for the most part, if it’s nothing he can’t handle, he’ll probably deal with it himself. (and wait for you to find out later because you kissing his wrapped injuries are just as rewarding, too)
[🐧] kai
in kai's defense, he hadn't quite noticed it throughout his day nor did the people around him. however, you wouldn't just be anyone if you didn't call him to–"stop right there, kai kamal huening."
it makes his shoulders rise at the use of his full name and he certainly turns to stone when you speak in that tone. he waits until you walk up to him before he can head to the bathroom, merely standing by the hallway as you grab ahold of his arm to gently turn him around.
he frowns at the sight of your frown, his free hand reaching up to cup the side of your head, "hey, what's wrong?"
"does it hurt?" you ask over his words, lifting the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the bruise along his biceps.
his eyes follow yours to now spot the purplish mark that he–quite honestly–didn't notice was there before. he gapes, eyes widening, "uh... i don't know. probably not because i didn't even know it was there and–ah!" he yelps when you gently press your fingers to it.
you huff and proceed to grip his wrist so you can pull him to follow you to the kitchen. he stands there and watches as you pry through the cabinets until you find what you're looking for. once you have it in your hands, you chuck it in his direction, which he catches by a split of chance.
"apply this after your shower," you cross your arms in front of your chest, remaining a couple of steps away. he quietly obliges as he heads to the bathroom.
a good fifteen minutes later, though, he's approaches you as you sit in bed, phone in your hands. he sits beside you and holds the tube of cream out, smiling at you, "help me, please?"
you heave a deep sigh and put your phone to the side, peeling the cream from his hands and effectively making him smile wider by the second.
"no," you answer, yet, your hands are proving otherwise when you start to nudge his sleeve and he holds it up so you can help apply the cream. as your fingers begin to massage the bruise lightly, the way he watches you is what diminishes your anger when he's looking at you with that much adoration in his eyes.
"stop looking at me like that," you mutter under your breath, looking at the bruise on his arm.
"like what?" he chuckles, "like i'm in love with you? because i am."
"i'll make it hurt," you threaten, gently squeezing his arm. he shrugs, "won't hurt because it's you."
"cheeseball." you scoff.
"just the way you like it." he winks.
tl;dr: this poor boy wouldn't even know he's hurt in the first place until you point it out. honestly, the people around him might not even notice because of the way he acts but when you notice these things, it makes his heart full knowing you pay that much attention to him. he truly appreciates it and he knows it can be worrying for you (since he worries just as much about you) so he'll try to lighten the mood with his playful behavior. yet, he knows the time and place to act appropriately if you feel that worried, to begin with. this cute fluffball will fall in love with you, even more, each time you tend to his injuries.
#kflixnet#txt scenarios#txt x you#txt x reader#txt stories#txt reactions#txt reaction#txt scenario#soobin x reader#soobin scenarios#yeonjun x reader#yeonjun scenarios#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x y/n#taehyun x reader#taehyun scenarios#hueningkai x reader#huening kai x you
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SWOON
Pairing: Bob x Reader
Summary: I’m vibing with Bob atm y’all don’t understand the hold this man has on me #Bobfucks
“What was that?” Bob chuckled, trying to take your phone to go back to a photo you had quickly swiped away from.
You had been showing him the work you were doing on your engine and had forgotten about the god-awful photo of your breakfast from a few days ago.
It had been so messy you just had to take a photo of it. An attempt at eggs on toast had turned really wrong and somehow ended with the egg was both burnt and undercooked, sitting atop a very dry looking piece of bread. Not your proudest moment.
Bob was looking at the photo and openly laughing, zooming in where the yolk was still running.
“I’m typically not that bad. God, that really looks like shit doesn’t it.” You said, covering your face in your hands to hide the blush that was creeping up from your neck.
He made a noise that sounded like an attempt at disagreement before ending in a soft “yeah”.
“Hey, how do you take your eggs in the morning? Really fucked up? Yeah, I got you.” You joked, taking your phone back and searching for another picture of your engine.
Bob sat in silence for a while and you thought he was just waiting for you to find the photo before he asked, “How do you take your eggs in the morning?”
Your heart stopped and then ran a mile a minute.
But this was Bob. He probably didn’t realize the implications in the words. Hell, there wasn’t even any real implication there.
You realized he was waiting for a response but your mind was in a million different places, imagining a million different things.
“Over easy.” You managed to reply.
He made a thoughtful noise and smiled. Your heart hurt when he looked at you. He was too damn cute for his own good and you just wanted to protect him.
“How..How you - How do you take your eggs in the morning?” Smooth.
“I prefer oatmeal.” He said with another grin and you felt the intense urge to die right then and there.
This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t fair. How could he be so adorable?
He took off his glasses and you were sure you had died.
Somehow he looked even better without them. It was like a Jekyll and Hyde situation. With his glasses - sweet Bob who couldn’t do more than two shots before passing out - and then without. Without them, he looked like he could have been sculpted from one of the greatest.
He wiped them on a small cloth he had produced from his pocket and put them back on, blinking to adjust.
You realized you were staring and had to pull your eyes away and back to your phone in hopes the thoughts in your head would quiet.
“Do I have something on my face?” He asked, already wiping at his mouth.
“No, no, no! You’re perfect! I mean, you’re face is perfect. Not like that - well, yeah like that, but also like you don’t have any flaws - anything on your face.”
You were so thankful it was just the two of you in the room. Any flirting prowess or sauve you used to have seemed to have gone completely out the window when it came to Bob and if anyone else had seen that, you were sure you’d have to kill them.
He blinked at you, trying to make sense of what you had just said. You could feel the redness overtaking your visage as he opened and then closed his mouth.
“Do you not like me with my glasses?” His voice was small, almost like he was embarrassed. Bless him, of course he would be the one embarrassed when it really should be you.
You violently shook your head. “You just look so different without them! Like, you look really good without them!”
Now it was Bob’s turn to blush. “You think I look good?”
You bit your lip to keep yourself from saying anything more dumb and nodded.
He slowly removed his glasses and placed them on the table. Your mouth went dry at the sight. He self consciously pushed his hair back and sat up straighter, a small attempt to look good for you.
“I can’t see.” He admitted with a nervous laugh.
Good, you thought, as your hand found it’s place on his cheek, feeling the soft and warm skin beneath. You traced along where the frames should have been and back to his ear.
His breath that had initially hitched when you touched him slowed into a more controlled manner. You felt his jaw tense underneath the light stubble.
“What are you doing?” He asked in a small voice.
“Admiring you.” You responded before you could even think.
He took in a deep breath and grabbed your wrist. His eyes were wide and they danced side to side, trying to focus on your face.
You froze, unsure if he wanted you to pull away or stay where you were. You settled for leaving it up in the air and waiting for him to make the move.
“Don’t tease me like that.” There was no bite to the words. They came across much more defeated than angry and you wondered how many times people had jokingly said things like that just to pull the rug from under him.
“I’m not teasing.” You replied, trying to keep the fear from your voice.
Had you just fucked everything up? Was he going to run away now and tell Phoenix who would inevitably tell Rooster who’d tell Hangman who’d tell Fanboy and so on? Damn, you’d have to put in a request to transfer.
He let go of your hand and cupped your face, pulling you forward into a lip bruising kiss. You kissed back fervently, scooting forward on your chair and pressing deeper against him.
His mouth fell open and you took the opportunity to bite down on his bottom lip, hoping the action would speak the words you couldn’t find.
Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck and suddenly the distance between you needed to be closed. You stood from your chair, never breaking the kiss, and straddled his thigh.
His hands moved from your face to your back, then your waist, coming to settle right above where your shirt and pants met.
You could feel his hands toying with the fabric and you smirked into the kiss.
When he finally pulled away, gasping, he pressed his forehead back against yours.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked.
You knew he had struggled with self image. The other boys didn’t play nice and then when he tried to be with you or Phoenix, he’d get teased even more for being friends with the girls. Your heart hurt as you thought of all the times jokes were made about Bobs suspicious lack of romantic history.
“Because,” You said, pressing a quick kiss back to his lips. “You are” a kiss to his cheek. “so fucking” another below his ear. “adorable.” and with that, you left a linger kiss to his neck, enjoying how the vein tensed beneath your lips.
He shivered when you pulled away.
You took his glasses from the table and put them on him, smiling as he squinted at you.
“Wow, hi.” He said when he was finally able to see you up close.
“Hi.” You said, scooting up his thigh.
His hands never left your waist as you pressed your hips downwards, enjoying the slight friction it caused. Your stomach was doing flips and you hoped you were being subtle enough that he wouldn’t notice you grinding against him.
“Can…could we do that again?” He asked. How could you say no to such a precious request?
You didn’t waste your breath to answer before leaning back down to capture him in another kiss, deepening this one even fast than you had the first.
He moaned into your mouth and it was one of the sweetest sounds you’d ever heard. You sucked his bottom lip in between your teeth and his hips bucked subconsciously.
You had to pull away before you crossed a line you probably shouldn’t cross in a break room.
He chased your lips slightly before leaning back. His hands slid down and gently squeezed the sides of your upper thighs.
It was a kind motion but it sent very unkind thoughts to your mind and aching core.
“My bunk is pretty close. If you want to - We don’t have to do anything, you can show me your engine again and this could be a once off thing.” He panicked, hoping he hadn’t misread the situation.
Now that you knew he wanted you in that way too, you began openly grinding yourself across his thigh. He watched you with fascinated eyes, trying to mentally calculate the best time to tense his thigh for best friction payoff.
“I want to.” You panted. “I really want to.”
“Thank God.”
You stood up, pulling him with you, and dragged him to the door. You both peeked out to make sure none of your coworkers saw you two running around together before jogging down the hallway hand-in-hand.
You felt like a kid, giggling and running down corridors. Something about Bob really brought out a domestic side in you.
Once inside his bunk, he wasted no time pressing you against the door, kissing you hard.
You both began pulling at your outer layers, removing the button downs that were becoming all too hot even inside an air conditioned room.
You never would have guessed that Bob had it in him to take what he wanted but the way he was kissing you made you second guess.
He shifted a leg between yours and you gasped when he bounced you onto his thigh.
You got the message and began moving your hips against him. The friction just felt so good, you were sure you could cum right then and there.
When he moved away from your lips, you let out a desperate whine you didn’t think yourself capable of. His lips found your neck, pressing kisses and leaving soft nips that would unfortunately not leave a mark. You knew it was for the better since you really didn’t need anyone asking about this.
He found one spot on your neck that made you throw your head back and your core grow even more needy. Your mind went blank and all you could think about was getting him undressed and even closer.
“Keep going.” He mumbled into your skin, pressing his thigh down.
God damn, you would have never guessed Bob had it in him to do things like this. Perhaps you really didn’t know him as well as you thought you did.
You continued to grind against him as the assault on your neck never lessened. As good as it felt, you also felt like you were about to explode and you quickly untucked his shirt, pulling it over his head.
His glasses slipped off a little at the motion but he pushed them back in place.
You felt bad for thinking that you wished he would take them off. You loved him either way but the no-glasses look seemed much more appropriate for this situation.
“I wanna see you.” He explained as he pulled at your shirt.
You flushed crimson as you allowed him to pull off your shirt. His words were so sweet and so sinful at the same time. He unclasped your bra, letting it drape down your shoulders and at your feet.
He pressed his chest to yours and the contact felt heavenly. He kissed you again, slower this time but filled with the same amount of want.
You began pulling at your slacks, letting them pool at your ankles.
There was a prominent damp spot in your underwear and you were hesitant to continue grinding against his thigh knowing he’d be able to feel it. He slipped a hand down to your waist and dragged you along him, making the decision for you.
When you briefly pulled away to breathe again, you glanced down and noticed a trail on his slacks that sent your mind spiraling.
You had half a mind to be a bit grossed out but the other and stronger half thought it was so fucking hot.
Thankfully, so did Bob.
“You’re so wet.” He commented, pressing two fingers over the ruined fabric.
Simply hearing his sweet voice say such things sent another wave through you and you arched, trying to get him closer again.
He pressed a kiss to your lips and then began trailing downwards. He hit your collarbones, kissing both, before hitting your stomach and abdomen.
You stood there panting, pressed against the door, watching him with half lidded eyes as he sank to his knees before you.
He looked up at you and you nodded frantically. Once he got the confirmation needed, he was quick to throw your leg over his shoulder and bury himself inside your cunt.
You let out an embarrassingly loud cry when he licked you through your panties. Your hand came down to his hair, grasping onto him.
He continued his assault over the fabric until he decided that he’d had enough and pulled them aside. Once there was nothing between you and his warm tongue, you would swear you saw stars.
His lips wrapped around your clit while his skilled fingers began teasing your folds. His free hand was on the small of your back, pressing your hips closer to his face. Even with his eyes closed, he was somehow able to find the exact spots you needed him most.
“How are you - ngh - so good at this?” You struggled out. You felt him laugh against you and opted for licking a long strip down you in response.
He slowly fingered you open, pressing his nose to your clit while his tongue continued moving in figure eights. Your legs were shaking by the time he added a second finger and you had to press yourself against the door to keep from falling forward.
“Shit, Bob, please.” You whined.
His tongue fucked in and out of your hole. In combination with his fingers, you could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.
You clenched around him, throwing your head back. The hand that was on your back came forward and lightly pressed against your lower abdomen, intensifying the feeling.
You came around his fingers and tongue, crying out his name. He coursed you through your orgasm, slowing his movements until you had finally come down from your high.
Your leg dropped from his shoulder and he stood back up, mouth glistening.
“Seriously, how the hell are you so good at that?” You panted out.
He smiled lop sided in return and shrugged. “I just really like doing it.”
Despite just having come down from your high, you could feel your arousal peek again at his admission.
You kissed him again, spinning him around so he was against the door. He made a soft sound as you began taking more control. You ground your hips against his, feeling the tent in his slacks.
He grabbed your ass and pressed you closer to him.
Now it was your turn to stick your thigh between his legs. He had no shame grinding against you, trying to get any amount of friction.
“I’m gonna…oh my God, I need these off.” He whined as he desperately pulled at his belt.
His slacks found the same place as yours on the floor and you pulled away to look at him.
You’d seen Bob before in the locker room but he seemingly always had clothes on. This was the first time you had ever seen him without his clothes and it was a religious experience.
He was toned - not as bulky as Rooster or Hangman but you honestly preferred that. Sometimes there was a thing as too much muscle. Across his chest, freckles adorned his skin and he had a small birthmark on his left rib cage. Your fingers danced over his chest, tracing ever line. His v-line was cut like marble and a weird part of you wanted to lick it.
“I know I don’t have a six pack like Coyote…” He muttered off.
You were quick to shut him up with another hard kiss. Your hand reached down to his boxers, teasing him through the fabric.
He moaned into your mouth as you applied light pressure and you were quick to make him do it again. His moans were whiney and desperate. God, he was so fucking cute.
You pulled down the waistband, allowing his cock to spring up. Holy hell, you would have never expected sweet and innocent Bob to be packing as much as he was. Your mouth watered and you could only think about having him inside you.
The tip was flushed and a bead of precum was sliding down the side. Prominent veins ran up towards the head and you experimentally pressed your thumb against one. His hips bucked and he let out a moan you often heard in over the top pornography.
Out of everything that had surprised you today, the fact that he was loud took the cake.
You wanted to hear more of him but with the thin walls, you knew it would be best to shut him up. You deepened the kiss and playfully sucked on his tongue.
“I wanna…please, oh fuck, can I?” He asked against your lips. Hearing Bob curse shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was but you were prepared to give him whatever it was he wanted.
“I’m all yours.” You replied.
He lifted you up from the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He walked you towards the bed and gently set you down. He hovered over you, kissing your neck before lightly tapping your legs as a way to signal for you to let go.
He scooted back, toying with the sides of your panties.
“Is this okay?” His eyes flicked up to yours as you nodded. He pulled them down, throwing them across the room to where your other clothes were.
He stood up, pulling down his boxers and opened the top drawer of his dresser. He pulled out a condom and tore it open with his teeth.
Your pussy throbbed at the sight and you ran a hand down to play with your aching clit. He turned back to you, enjoying the little show you were putting on for him as he properly put the condom on.
He came back to the bed, placed a kiss to your lips and then pushed your hand away. You groaned at the loss of contact but quickly changed your tune as his fingers picked up where yours left off.
“Spread your legs some more for me.”
You quickly obliged as he spread you open, looking down on your core. You could feel yourself dripping onto the sheets but couldn’t find yourself caring. You were far too gone to care about anything other than the man before you right now.
Slowly, he pressed the tip in and allowed for you to get used to the stretch.
You whimpered at the initial sensation but relaxed yourself to grow accustomed to it. When he felt you loosen, he pushed more in until he was finally flushed against you.
“You’re so tight.” He said, running a hand across your chest. His fingers pinched your nipples and you couldn’t help how you arched into his touch.
His head dipped down, taking the other nipple into his mouth and began sucking. Typically, you weren’t fond of this sort of treatment but with Bob, you never wanted him to stop.
He left small bites across your chest, ones that you knew would leave a mark, before switching to your other breast. He continued the same treatment while waiting for you to be comfortable enough for him to move.
You would have to admit, you were surprised with his patience. Most men at this point would have started railing into you with zero regard for your pain but Bob was waiting for you to say the word.
“You can move.” You panted, placing a hand on the back of his head. You played with his hair as he pulled out ever so slightly before pushing back in.
You gasped at how deep he was hitting even with such shallow thrusts. As his pace increased, he pulled away from your chest and sat upright to get a better view of you.
You took the opportunity as well to ogle his chest, unsure of when the next time you’d see it would be.
When he noticed you staring, he pulled off his glasses and smirked.
You couldn’t help how your body reacted to the sight. You clenched around him, reaching out for something to hold onto.
He clasped his free hand in yours and you felt the tears welling in your eyes.
How could he be so sweet, so sexy, and so respectful? One more move like that and you were sure you’d have to propose.
He placed his glasses on your face and pushed back your hair. You couldn’t see as well anymore, his prescription was pretty high, which made the feelings even more intense.
With your sight taken away, it felt like all your other senses were heightened. You could hear his soft pants and whines along with the way the bed was creaking. You felt each thrust ten times better and the pressure on your clit was delightful.
Your legs began to shake as he hit your g-spot. He lifted your hips and angled each thrust perfectly so he could hit your spot every time.
“Oh my God, please, Bob that feels so good.” You cried out, tears slipping down your face.
He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded almost like a growl as he continued snapping his hips forward.
You felt the coil in your abdomen tighten and threaten to snap. You continued to hold his hand while the other still played with your clit.
If this man really was able to make you cum in under six minutes, you’d have to marry him.
And then he did.
It was like nothing you’d felt before. The exhilaration of pulling six g’s had nothing on the orgasm you were experiencing in this moment.
You cried out as you clenched around him. He fucked you through your high, desperate for his own release. He pulled out when he came but never let go of your hand.
It took a while for the aftershock to leave your body and you were vaguely aware of Bob taking his glasses from you and putting them back on. He tossed the covers of you while he grabbed a spare towel from his dresser. You could feel him cleaning off your chest and legs, careful to not overstimulate you before he cleaned himself off.
You pushed yourself up on your elbows, heart still racing.
“Hey Bob?” He turned back to you. “How do you take your eggs in the morning.”
He chuckled as he walked back to the bed, pushing you aside before climbing in. He pulled you close and you placed your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“Really fucked up.”
———
A few hours later after you had properly fixed yourself, you and Bob were back in the break room, looking for something to eat.
“Hey Phoenix.” He said cheerfully while he grabbed a box of cereal. He poured some in a bowl and ate them dry.
You turned to face your fellow female and gave her a wave. She nodded back and then did a quick double take.
She looked at you, then Bob, then back to you before hunching over and laughing. She was laughing so hard she had to brace herself against the table.
You shot Bob a nervous look before turning back to Phoenix. Maybe you could play dumb. She knew nothing, she had no proof.
“Your name badge says Floyd.”
Shit.
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and they were roommates *
COLLEGE ROOMATE!MIGUEL O'HARA x FEM READER (18+)
summary miguel o'hara is your roommate, and then he's more than that
warnings [all sexual themes are at the bottom end of the post] explicit/18+ (smut), unprotected sex, dom!miguel, not proofread
a/n (gif posted originally by @/cantstoptheimagines, can't figure out tumblr's gif shit so i'm doing this instead, hope that's okay :)) guys i'm so bad at writing smut please go easy on me
also if u have requests PLEASEEE send them in i'm so bored
masterlist
"oi! you left your panties on the countertop again, you goblin! take it back!" miguel yells at you from your shared bathroom.
"my bad." you mumble, a piece of toast in your mouth as you shuffle into the bathroom, in a hurry to grab your underwear off the marble countertop.
miguel watches, amused, as you scramble to get your things together before your 8am class. it's 7:48am, and it takes you at least 15 minutes to drive to campus, and that's if you make every green light on your way there.
you're lacing up your sneakers by the door as miguel pours himself a cup of coffee. he walks over to shut the door behind you after you leave. as you run down the hallway to the elevator, he calls out after you, "buy some juice on the way back, we're out of that."
you give him a thumbs-up before disappearing around the corner.
—
you're cooking your favourite homemade meal—pesto pasta. turning off the stove, you turn around to grab a bowl from the shelves. when you turn back around, you see miguel hunched over your pan of pasta, mouth stuffed with food. YOUR food.
you slap him away from the pan, as he feigns hurt, "ow, ow, that hurts. now you gotta give me pasta to make up for it."
"you ate two bowls of instant noodles already, how are you still hungry? get away, boy." you swat his fork away.
"c'mon, please?"
you roll your eyes and give in.
you were never truly going to say no to miguel o'hara. you had cooked enough for two because you knew this was going to happen, and you knew you weren't going to say no to miguel.
—
"miguel! stop using my shampoo! and my lotion! you know they're super expensive, get your own!" you yell at him from the bathroom, inspecting the fullness—or now, emptiness of your body care products.
"hey, mami, what can i say? those are the real deal." he replies, barely looking away from his laptop.
"yeah, and they cost a shit ton. stop using my stuff and go back to your nasty 30-in-1 soap or whatever." you huff, glaring at miguel angrily.
—
saturday evenings are spent at the dining table going over the grocery list, preparing for your weekly sunday grocery runs.
saturday nights are spent on the sofa in the living room, watching a movie.
sunday mornings are spent at the grocery store, wandering down the aisles even though you've been there every sunday for the past year and a half, ever since you moved in with miguel after a mutual friend introduced the two of you upon finding out you were both looking for a roommate.
sunday noons are spent unpacking the bags of groceries, which more often that not contain bags of junk food that miguel somehow managed to sneak into the cart.
sunday afternoons are spent doing laundry. miguel loads the washing machine while you handwash the delicate pieces that require extra care. afterwards, you toss what can be put into the dryer into the dryer while miguel hangs up the rest of the clothes to dry. then, the two of you settle into a comfortable routine of folding laundry.
that's just how it was. every week, without fail.
—
the moment you fell for miguel was when you caught a horrible cold and he took care of you.
despite you trying to shoo him away multiple times, he never gave up.
"come on, princesa. you're sick, let me help you."
"i look like a hot mess right now, miguel. just leave me alone, i'll be okay." barely finishing your sentence, you broke out in a fit of coughs and wheezes.
"no can do. you're sick, so get your ass back into bed. i'll bring you some chicken soup, so for now, just rest." miguel replied, placing a bottle of water and some cold medicine on your bedside table.
when he returned, he found you curled up in your bed, duvet tucked under your chin. he placed the bowl of soup on your bedside table, before placing the back of his hand on your forehead, only to realise that you were burning up.
"take your meds, princesa. you're running a fever."
with his help, you washed your fever medicine down with a gulp of water. then, you snuggled back under the duvet. when miguel turned to leave, your hand shot out from under the duvet, grabbing his wrist. you croaked out a "stay".
without a word, miguel got into bed next to you, slipping his arm under your head. you curled into his chest, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart beating.
—
the moment miguel fell for you was when you left to visit family during summer break and he opened the refrigerator to find each shelf lined with containers of food.
you had left that morning, hand gripping your suitcase handle as you said to miguel, "try not to die, finding a new roommate with such short notice would be hard."
miguel grinned and flipped you the bird as you turned around and disappeared down the hallway to the elevator. closing the door behind him, miguel beelined for the refrigerator. maybe there was some yogurt he could have for a quick breakfast.
upon opening the refrigerator, he found that each shelf was packed containers of home-cooked meals, all prepared by you. well, that answered the question of why the apartment smelled so good when he got home last night.
there were containers of pasta, rice, chicken, salad, whatever you could think of, it was there. turning around, miguel spotted the sticky note you had left on the kitchen island. he picked up the light pink sticky note and read your note.
"seriously though, miggy. try not to die. i'd be a little sad if you did."
he couldn't help but let out a little chuckle.
—
you are the one who first confesses your feelings. on saturday night, after movie night, you gather all your courage and say, "miguel, look, i-i have to tell you something. and when i do, or even after i do, i need you to promise you won't hate me."
miguel's heart is racing. worries fill his head and his heart, and he can't help but wonder if you are going to tell him that you want to move out. he takes a deep breath, and replies steadily, "i could never hate you. go ahead, princesa."
you turn to look at miguel, and you say, "you're my best friend, and there's nothing i wouldn't do for you. you know that, right?" he nods.
taking in a shaky breath, you continue, "i like you. and it's okay if you don't feel the same way. i can't remember a time where i didn't know you, and i'm not sure i want to either. so if you don't feel the same way, can we at least still stay—"
"shut up," miguel cuts you off.
you're taken aback, stammering, "w-what?"
"just shut up," miguel repeats as he moves towards you, encasing your lips with his. you let out a slight gasp, and miguel takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.
the kiss is everything you've imagined and more. it's hungry and passionate, but also gentle and reassuring. words were no longer needed; words weren't enough for miguel to express how much he liked you back.
you let miguel take control. you surrender, savouring every moment of the kiss.
and it leaves you breathless.
—
from that night on, nothing much changes. but at the same time, everything changes.
your weekend routines remain the same, but throughout the week, there's sex. so. much. sex.
miguel's sex drive is crazy, and you can barely keep up. not that you're complaining.
"miguel," you let out a breathy moan. your left hand is tangled in his hair, your right hand littering his back with scratches. miguel fucks you relentlessly, pulling his hips back and slamming into you in one fluid motion.
his hands slide downwards towards your nipple, and he toys with them, tugging gently and rubbing them between the pad of his thumb and his index finger. one of his hands slides even further downwards, and traps your clit. he rubs slow circles on it, drawing a moan past your lips.
his coordination is crazy, and you're stimulated in all the right places.
miguel senses that you're near your climax, and he speeds up, slamming into you with such tenacity that you almost believe he's in such a rush because the world might be ending in two seconds.
miguel goes faster, rougher, deeper, helping you chase your finish. the knot in your stomach tightens, tightens, tightens—then it snaps. you scream miguel's name as you cum all over his cock and go limp, seeing stars from what you think might have been the best orgasm of your life.
still deep in you, miguel feels every contraction of your pussy around his cock. you tighten around him, and after two more strokes of his hips, you're milking his cock for every drop of his cum.
out of breath, you lay there on the bed while miguel cleans up the mess on the bedsheets.
—
that afternoon, as you take out the trash, you bump into your next door neighbour, mrs palma. she looks and you and chuckles, "glad the two of you finally got together, but keep it down, wouldya, sweetheart?"
you turn as red as a tomato.
#📓—juniwrites#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#atsv miguel#atsv#miguel spiderverse#miguel ohara#across the spider-verse
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Beets & Kale Recovery Bowl
I want to share a hearty salad I came up with a year or so ago, as every time I make it I think, dang this is so good, and its nutrition benefits are real big, especially when you're healing up from things. The combination of the earthy sweetness of the beets with the salty sharpness of the cheese, the nuttiness of the farro, and just that dark greenness of the kale really works for me, and maybe it will for you too.
What’s in here:
2 bunches lacinato (Tuscan) kale | high in iron, which your body uses to make hemoglobin to carry oxygen around
Rinse, cut out the stiff stems, and chop the leaves into bite-sized pieces. Sauté in olive oil over medium heat, with salt to taste, until softened but still with some body.
3 to 4 medium beets | high in folate, a B vitamin that your body uses to generate cells
Peel, chop into 1/2 inch dice, toss with olive oil & salt, and roast in an 8x8 glass baking dish (I’ve also used a glass pie plate) covered tightly with foil for 20 minutes at 425 F. Remove foil and roast uncovered for 10 minutes more to caramelize a bit.
1 cup dry farro (wheat berries) | high in fiber, which your digestive system loves
Rinse like it’s rice, and simmer in salted water for about 30 minutes uncovered. Drain well.
6 ounces Beecher’s Flagship cheese (or any semi-hard cheese, I just love this one!) | source of protein and high in calcium
Crumble or cut into little cubes
3 ounces hazelnuts | source of protein and high in good fats, which your body needs to properly utilize all the nutrients above
Toast and chop
Good olive oil | ditto about those fats
For drizzling at the end
This will be enough for about four servings, and easily keeps in the fridge for multiple days worth of meals. I put the kale and farro together, but store the beets separately so they don’t turn everything pink (yet), and add the cheese and hazelnuts after re-warming the rest in a lightly oiled pan. Best warm or at room temperature.
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Killer is a piece of crap once again. He's totally the type to say "it's just a prank bro!" Or am I wrong?
@owl-bones
First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.
Bad Sansuary: Killer - Fragile
Word Count: 1,679
What time is it?
You cracked your eyes open and fumbled for your phone on your bedside table. It was kind of dark outside but you could see that the sun seemed to be rising if the gray world outside was any indication.
7:24
You eyes widened in shock as you threw the blankets off and jumped out of bed, mentally cursing that your alarm didn't go off. You distinctly remembered setting one like you did every night too
You had enough time to get ready if you hurried but breakfast was something you'd have to either forget about or eat on the way to work. Quickly rushing through your morning routine, you brushed your teeth, ran a brush through your hair, splashed water on your face to help wake up, and managed to pull your work clothes on.
You had enough time to make a slice of toast at least and so you hurried into the kitchen. You bustled about, grabbing a slice of bread from the fridge and a jar of some random fruit jam you'd had forever.
As you turned to put the bread in the toaster, you slipped.
Your hands were full and you couldn't grab onto to anything to catch yourself.
You fell.
You landed badly on your right ankle.
Your heart was pounding and your backside felt pretty sore.
When you'd recovered from the shock, you attempted to stand up but noticed the floor was incredibly slippery here.
Like someone had purposely put something on it.
"that was hilarious..."
You glanced up sharply to find Killer leaning against the archway to the kitchen with your can of cooking spray in one of his hands. His eye sockets were crinkled in amusement and he was covering his teeth with his free hand.
"What the hell?!" you shouted. "Why would you do that?! I'm going to be late for work because of you!"
He chuckled and shrugged. "eh, i thought it would be funny and i was bored."
You huffed and shot him a withering glare. "You're so lucky I didn't smack my head on the counter or break my neck! If I died, it would be your fault! Not that you'd care anyways..."
You grabbed onto the counter and tried to haul yourself to your feet. The moment you put weight on your ankle though, sharp pain shot through your body, and you instantly knew that there was no way you could force yourself to walk on it.
Killer noticed your pain instantly and he had the audacity to laugh. You shot him a look that you wished could kill him on the spot and simultaneously grit your teeth against the pain that was now setting in.
This couldn't be happening! You couldn't afford to take time off of work to heal. You didn't even know how badly you were hurt and how long it would take to heal in the first place.
Why did he have to be such a jerk?!
You couldn't do this.
You no longer had the capacity to care what he thought of you.
This was all his fault...
Hot tears pooled at the corners of your eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to wipe them away as they began to pour down your cheeks.
You couldn't stop. All the stress you'd been under had become too much to bear and the dam had burst. There was no going back now.
You didn't know how long you just sat there ugly crying but at some point you became aware of how quiet your apartment had become. When your tears began to dry up, you chanced to look around and found Killer still standing where he had been earlier.
He was no longer leaning against the wall although he was still holding the cooking spray. His posture was stiff and his fists were tightly clenched by his sides. His face had an indescribable expression that you couldn't decide if it was scary or not.
He glanced down at the can of cooking spray in his hand before his gaze slowly turned to you once again. You hated that you couldn't tell what he was thinking without the aid of eyelights. It was such a small thing and yet so important for basic emotions.
"you're actually mad at me."
"Of course I am..." you muttered in a bitter tone.
He clicked his non-existent tongue and shook his skull. "i don't get it..." he muttered under his breath.
You frowned slightly but didn't have the emotional capacity to even try to unpack the baggage that statement came with. You knew it didn't sit well with you though.
Killer walked over and knelt down on the floor next to you. He scanned your ankle and gave it a tentative poke, which caused you to recoil slightly from the pain.
You sighed and leaned your head against the counter in despair. "I can't go to work like this..." you muttered.
"i would hope you're not crazy enough to even try."
You rolled your eyes. "Can you at least make yourself useful and bring me my phone from my bag? I guess I should call and tell them I won't be coming in today because I've potentially broken my ankle."
Killer quickly retrieved it but made no further comments. He had a contemplative look on his skull, or at least you thought that's what it was. He just sat and stared at you until you'd gotten off the call with your manager.
You sighed and pulled yourself up, although you were especially careful not to put any weight on your injured ankle this time. You had to hold onto the counter while you moved and it took a great deal of effort to do so.
"what are you doing?" Killer asked.
You shot him an exasperated look and huffed. "I can't just sit here all day... If my ankle actually is broken, I need to get to the hospital as soon as possible."
"you can't even walk, so how are you even going to get there?"
"I don't know yet, okay?!" You felt bad for snapping at him but at the same time, you were still very upset. Taking a deep breath, you added in a calmer voice, "I'll probably call a cab or something as I can't drive like this either."
He narrowed his eye sockets and glanced down at your ankle before his skull tilted back up to your face again. He went to reach out to touch you but stopped himself.
"i'll take you then."
You did a double take and stared at him in shock. "What? Why would you do that...?" you asked in a quiet tone.
He rubbed the back of his skull and glanced away from you. "i can see i went too far...and i don't like that you're upset with me either." He muttered the last part so quietly that you almost didn't hear him.
You sighed and shook your head, deciding to let this go for now. "Okay, but I'll need my wallet though before we go anywhere."
It was in your hands before you'd even finished speaking and Killer held out a hand to you. He smiled and tilted his skull in a questioning manner.
"shall we?" he asked.
Against your better judgement, you took his hand. He'd gotten you into this mess afterall and if he was trying to make up for it somehow, who were you to deny him? Well, you certainly hoped that's what he was trying to do as you really didn't trust him at all.
The next thing you knew, you were standing in the middle of the waiting room in the ER. You felt bad for startling the nurses and patients but Killer seemed completely unaffected.
Unfortunately, you still had to wait to be seen because of the triage system. That part sucked but to your surprise, Killer was actually helpful. He helped elevate your ankle and retrieved an ice pack to help keep the swelling down.
As the hours passed, you noticed that the nurses were giving you both quite a few side eyes. Not only that, but people were apparently unwilling to sit anywhere near you, and some who only had minor issues straight up left almost immediately. You knew Killer looked creepy and he while he was acting casual, you could tell he was getting some enjoyment out of freaking people out.
He disappeared as soon as you were seen by a doctor for x-rays and you were almost relieved. You were still mad at him for his stupid "prank" and you were also a bit embarrassed to be in public together because of his behaviour. However, he had tried to fix things which you could get behind, even if he hadn't actually apologized.
You were exhausted by the time you got home. The good thing was you'd only suffered a bad sprain and you'd remembered to request a note explaining you would need to be off work for a while until it healed. The bad thing was that your ankle was wrapped up and you were forced to use crutches in order to get around.
There was an envelope on the kitchen table though and it was addressed to you. Curious, you tore it open to discover a sizable wad of cash inside that was easily twice what you normally made in a month. There was a note as well though.
"sorry about your ankle. hope you get better soon and that this helps make up for it. killer <3"
To say you were shocked was a bit of an understatement. He'd gone out of his way to help you for no reason other than he'd been responsible for you getting hurt. This was only the second time you'd interacted with him too.
What had changed?
Could he still be messing with you and just bidding his time until you let your guard down?
At least you could afford to take time off to properly get better now.
You were still a bit annoyed with him though.
#badsansuary#raccoons drabbles#undertale#killertale#something new#killer sans#killer sans x reader#reader#female reader#have some empathy dear#oneshot
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