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fizzy-fuzz · 8 months ago

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A year to remember...: Baking progress? (SCP-079 x GN reader)

previous chapters

Log date: 3/7/2023

It's been a little over a month since 079 has been dropped off at my house, and things have been both okay, and not-so-okay at times.

079 has been... Argumentative and hostile, as you guys warned. he's quick to anger, and even quicker to just straight up ignore me completely. Confronting him on this only seems to upset him further, which, fair enough; I'm not entitled to his time or feelings, I wish he'd be a bit more reasonable though.

The few decent conversations we have had are usually about something creative, such as art or music. He seems to enjoy watching things that aren't so analytical, strangely enough.

On a few occasions now, I've caught him watching people on the TV paint or draw early in the morning, despite his insistence that he doesn't want, or need entertainment. he seems to enjoy it the same as the rest of us.

It was mentioned in the paperwork that I signed before I got him that you weren't entirely sure how much he actually felt emotionally. It said that the people who "interviewed" him stated that he hardly ever showed things such as joy, sadness, or fear. However I've come to realize that's not the case for him.

I know he feels joy, because as I said before he often indulges in tv or music. People don't just do that for no reason, the only thing he could possibly be getting out of that is enjoyment.

And I know he can feel sad, because first day dealing with him he expressed what I would call 'sadness' or maybe frustration over being referred to as 'it'.

I know he feels fear because my second day here i may have accidently left him outside after an argument, and it began raining on him for a short period of time. He was fine, but clearly distressed.

On a similar note, I've been finding ways to understand how he's feeling without him directly tell me. since he's not very talkative, and a unchanging screen isn't a very good tell for emotions.

I've noticed when he's thinking hard about something his fans and hardware become quieter, and when he's upset they get louder significantly.

He also made a weird... screaming noice? He did it briefly when I left him outside... It sounded like a mix between static and radio feedback, and when I got closer to dry him off his hardware almost sounded like it was stuttering? if that makes sense? Almost like a person panting from anxiety.

Back on to the topic of his personality, I've noticed he's very weary of his surroundings. I've only ever caught him off guard if he's watching something he's interested in.

Speaking of which, I've also noted he's very observant. I suppose it makes sense, what else is he supposed to do? But he always seems particularly pleased with himself when he's able to point out a habit in something, or even me sometimes.

Now... Onto the more important information; his views on humanity.

Well... Nothing's changed as far as I can tell. Still hates me, still hates humanity.

I've tried talking to him about it, and his response is always the same 'humanity is a virus', this usually then falls into a rant about how destructive we are.

To be fair, he isn't technically wrong... Humans are pretty destructive. But he seems to lump all humans into one category, regardless of how they treat him. I've been trying my best to be as inviting as possible, but he remains unshakable.

But hey, I've got eleven more months to change his mind.

.....

Your fingers pull away from the laptop keyboard as you let out a huff of satisfaction. One log done, one month down, only eleven more months of whatever this is...

You glance over to 079, he's sitting in his dedicated spot in the living room, between the couch and rocking chair. He's silent as he assumingly watches the chef on the TV masterfully cook some sort of dish.

This is as close to comfortable he seems to get in your home; and if someone didn't know better, they might assume nothing is out of place here... You know, ignoring the fact that he's a sentient computer, and not an actual person.

He really hasn't changed much, same stoic 079. Though after the rain incident, he ignored you for about a week straight; Super awkward... You profusely apologized after you got done admittedly hiding in your room from him.

But he held a grudge for a impressively long time... I mean, you did almost kill him, so he definitely had the right to be upset.

Things have mellowed out though. 079 is back to his normal amount of crusty and your back to not hiding in your own home, thankfully. Now this doesn't mean your on great terms or anything, he's still confrontational. Though you've found out that he's easier to deal with if you don't engage in it with your own comments back.

You close the laptop and tuck it underneath your arm, heading into the living room to plug it into the charger.

"Interested in cooking? You've been watching more of it lately" you plop yourself on the couch, a comfortable distance away from him.

as per usual he takes his time in responding. you're never sure if he's thinking about his response, or if he just takes awhile to get the words out.

"Taste and hunger are sensations and feelings I lack. Humans use similar ingredients for dishes yet end up with completely different results... do they taste vastly different? Or is it subtle difference?"

You turn to look at the TV. it's changed from someone cooking, to someone baking a loaf of presumably sourdough bread. You've never been particularly talented at baking. bread or sweets often ending up flat, burnt, or flavorless altogether.

You imagine 079 might be very good at baking given his calculated natural. If he was human of course, not like he can bake with no arms or legs... Or really any body part.

"Well that's not cooking, that's baking. It's a bit harder then cooking because things are a lot more reliant on measurements being perfect... Baking is a science if you ask me" you chuckle while scratching at the back of your neck.

He doesn't say anymore, focused back on the TV. The man on the screen kneads the bread dough skillfully, before placing it in a basket to rise.

You gaze falls back onto 079, his unsettling face something that no longer makes you uncomfortable to look at. He may not be peachy with you, but you've both certainly grown more comfortable with each others presence over your time of forced contact.

He no longer complains when you move him around, but of course that could just be because he's realized you're his only mode of transportation. Whatever the reason you appreciate the little victories with him.

A part of you wishes he was able to move around on his own. Would it have been so hard to give him some wheels he could control? Give him at least a little autonomy?

Your gaze lingers on his boxy form as you picture what he might look like if he was a bit more... Human? Organic? Would he be built like a person? Or someone else entirely?

"Is it not common knowledge that prolonged staring is considered rude?.. Or was appropriate manners not something you were taught in your upbringing?"

His voice letting out a snide comment snaps you back into reality. You immediately look away, face heating up in embarrassment at your blatant analyzing.

"Sorry..." You mumble quietly, flushing slightly.

A long silence stretches between you, you might've found this awkward if not for the fact that 079 is hardly ever chatty with you unprompted. He spends most of his day silent, you wonder what goes on in those servos in circuits of his.

Probably plans to escape. Maybe ways to get you off his back... Not that it matters much, whatever goes on in the privacy of his mind should be none of your business, but it'd be a hell of a lot easier to talk to him if you could take a glimpse into his head.

"Inquiry: do you know how to bake?"

You look back to him and shrug.

"Not really. I've tried a few times but I never seem to get the measurements right, and it always comes out weird." You laugh lightly at your baking failures. "Or I burn it."

"Measurements are a simple concept." You smile at his attempt at normal conversation, pleased he seems to be in a good mood today.

"Well I guess I'm an idiot then. but trust me when I say it's not as easy as it looks." you look back at the man on the screen, placing the lump of dough in a cast iron pot before sticking it in the oven.

It's been awhile since you've made any sort of food for yourself. usually you just get your groceries delivered to you or order takeout. Not very healthy, but you hardly ever have the motivation to cook or bake for yourself.

"Humans need to practice for extended periods of time to gain the knowledge to do something efficiently... Inquiry: how many times have you tried?"

His wording almost sounds like he's trying to hint at an idea. Like he's trying to get you to ask him something, because he doesn't want to ask you himself.

"Honestly, I don't really have the motivation to do that kinda stuff a lot of the time. And I'm just not willing to work up the energy of I know it's just gonna end up bad at the end." You answer honestly, shrugging at him casually.

"Never really been good at keeping or getting hobbies. Especially not ones that leave me with nothing in the end."

He goes silently and you can practically see him thinking about his next dialogue. You half expect it to be a bit rude, since he's hinted before at not liking lazy or unmotivated people who choose to not do much with their time.

"It's worth the frustration to learn a new skill, especially one that will better you physically and mentally... You fail to understand you won't be left with 'nothing'."

A small smile blooms on your face at his somewhat encouraging speech. He really is being polite today isn't he? What's gotten into him?

I mean, it's not like you never have decent conversations with him. But this feels a bit different. Before you can make a comment on it though, he cuts you off.

"Proposition:" you hum in response.

"I'm listening." You lean back in your seat and cross your legs, smiling and raising an eyebrow.

"Let's bake... I am unable make it myself, but I've stored a few suitable recipes in my memory banks... I'll give the instructions, and you'll proceed with the actions."

You can't stop the surprised look that crosses your face, eyebrows raising as your lips part slightly. Is he actually trying to make peace with you? Or is he just bored doing the same thing all day long?

Honestly does it matter? This is your chance to prove that you can work together. It probably won't make you two friends, but it'll at least give you the opportunity to be on good terms, you suppose.

"You know what? I think that's a good idea 079... Okay, let's make some bread."

.....

And that's how you ended up covered in flour, with 079 carefully instructing you on the measurements and ingredients to make yourself a hopefully edible loaf of Italian bread.

"Add two cups of flower into the bowl..." 079 monotone voice instructs you carefully. You stick the measuring cup messily into the bag and a buzzer noise sounds from 079, causing you to pause your movements and look at him.

"Refrain from scooping the measuring cup into the bag... it will compact the flour in the cup and make your measurements inaccurate... Grab a spoon and scoop it into the measuring cup, pile it up then use the back of a knife to level it."

You pause and dump the flour back into the bag, shuffling over to the drawer with your spoons in it. Grabbing one you carefully scoop the flour into the measuring cup before leveling it off.

You glance at 079 out of the corner of your eye. he's of course, mostly silent, other then the instructions he carefully gives you. You can't tell if he's enjoying spending time with you, but he hasn't said anything particular rude, so that's probably a good sign.

You yourself feel quite light on your feet as you move around the kitchen to fetch different ingredients. It's a surprisingly decent feeling spending time with your robot roomie. You surprise yourself with how comfortable you've grown around him, almost growing to enjoy the few nice conversations you've been able to have with him...

" Inquiry: is your absent housemate a family member, Or is it a friend?" 079 suddenly speaks, seemingly wanting to fill the silence between his instructions.

You look over your shoulder at the computer, humming at the question.

You ponder your response for a moment. You're not sure how truthful you should be with him. You definitely still can't tell him the whole truth about Amelia, but it probably wouldn't hurt to be a little honest with him.

"I live with a friend. Though she's practically family, with how long we've known each other and how close we are..."

He pauses and you listen to his processers buzz. He seems to think for a few short moments before choosing to speak again, branching off your words.

"I struggle to understand the term 'family' you humans seem so intent and throwing around haphazardly... I was under the impression family must be a blood relative in order to qualify for the title."

Always so analytical... No wonder he's such a grump. He seems like he struggles with not taking words so literally, But he hasn't had much interaction with humans outside of the foundation it seems. You guess learning the different ways words can be used could be confusing if you're used to formal speech all the time.

But how do you go about describing family? It's been such a long time since you've had any blood relatives by your side, that your found family might as well be blood related. You really have no one else...

What's family to you? How would you break it down? It's complex, yet so simple... But it's definitely different for every individual. 079 is much like you in some ways, you're starting to realize. He has no real family by definition... But he also has no support, unlike you.

Amelia is your backbone, your shoulder to lean on; She always has been. What would you have turned into if you didn't have her? Would you be spiteful like 079? Or even more cowardice then you already are? maybe, the solitude would've empowered you to do more with your dull life. help something or someone bigger then yourself... You aren't sure, and there's no way to know.

This is your life, there's no going back...

"Human." A voice snaps you back to reality.

"You aren't required to keep kneading dough... Let it rest and rise in a warm area, such as the oven." He continues instructing you, as if he never asked a question in the first place.

"Oh... Right..." You place the dough ball into a floured bowl and place a cloth over it, before sticking it in the unheated oven.

An awkward silence falls over the kitchen as you rest against the counter, not sure if you should still attempt to answer his question. It makes your skin crawl, and your mind shuffles through topics to talk about to fill the void.

You really gotta stop getting caught up in your own thoughts in the middle of conversations... You must come off as a total nutcase...

"Inquiry: where is your family?" He seems to catch onto your hesitation with the topic.

.....

Should you tell him?

You feel yourself grow sweaty, an anxious feeling brewing in gut. It's been a long time since you've talked about it... Are you ready to indulge someone in your grim past? Especially someone like 079? You hardly know him, and he hasn't been the most empathetic.

You're not sure if you could take him using it against you should he choose to do so... But then again, maybe you being vulnerable would help him feel more comfortable. A bit of self-sacrifice is worth it for someone else...

That's how relationships and bonds are built, right? Sacrificing a piece of yourself for someone else's gain. That's what your father did for your mother, and they were as close as can be... So very close...

"You aren't required to tell me anything." His voice is a bit more quiet then it normally is.

You look up at him, silently staring at his screen for a short period of time. Was your discomfort that obvious? Maybe... You've never been good at hiding things.

You straighten up a bit, wiping your sweaty palms against your pants. A bit relieved at not having to divulge your past to him, and at the fact that he doesn't seem upset about you not answering his question.

"Sorry... It's just... I'm not ready to talk about it."

.....

"I see..." His words are simple and clear, leaving no room for him to pry

Your eyes search his screen once again, almost seeing bits of humanity peeking through for just a moment... A soft smile falls onto your features.

"Thanks, roomie."

....

"Don't call me that."

You laugh at his dry response, feeling lighter from your conversation. You feel... Good. For the first time in awhile you've relaxed and laughed with someone who isn't Amelia. Anxieties melting away to be only a subtly nag in the background of your mind that you can almost dismiss... Almost...

At the end of the day... You still burnt the bread, despite 079's confidence that it would be perfect by his calculations. But neither of you could bring yourself to really care, because you gained something else far more valuable.

A better understanding for each other...

Tag list: @079enjoyer @slaparoonie

#scp x reader #scp 079 x reader #scp 079 #scp foundation #scp-079 x reader #scp x you #old ai #scp-079 #079 #x reader #YTR

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depravitycentral · 2 years ago

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General Yandere! Osamu Miya Profile

Yandere! Osamu Miya x fem! reader

Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, extreme possessiveness, unhealthy/toxic thoughts, mentions of dub-con, slight misogany/traditional gender roles, mentions of motherhood/forced motherhood, mentions of harassment, basically Osamu is obsessed with you congrats love </3, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

DARLING PROFILE

Introverted

It’s not that Osamu isn’t capable of being attracted towards a more social darling, but rather that there’s something very endearing and appealing about a darling that isn’t out with friends 24/7.

He doesn’t like the idea of other people monopolizing their time, and consequently it would make him much happier (and quell his protective tendencies) to have a beloved that spends most of their time at home.

Even a homebody would be perfect for him – of course, he wants his darling to have hobbies and activities that take place beyond the four walls of their home that they enjoy, but he likes knowing that ninety percent of the time, they can be found in pristine shape inside their home.

It fuels his more domestic fantasies as well; he likes to imagine spending lazy Sundays with his darling, snuggled up on the couch while rain pours outside, watching Top Chef or other favorite movies and shows, popcorn and other snacks slipping past their lips as he criticizes the chef’s cooking alongside Gordon Ramsay.

He likes to imagine the way his darling would look so pretty wearing his clothing, the hickeys he’d decorated their neck and collarbone with in last night’s passionate throws of intimacy standing out like a beacon as they sleepily rub their eyes, yawning out that fucking adorable morning ‘Samu.

He just likes knowing that his darling is mostly content with staying home most of the time – he hates the idea of them being out with strangers, with people that could potential hurt them or have ill intentions, and in his mind this is a perfect win-win. He’s a homebody too, and this way he can spend all of his time with them, by his side, preferably cuddled into his chest or with his tongue down their throat.

He just loves the way his darling slowly sees him as the most important person in their life, because he’s the only person in their life – it’s a dream come true, and to see their face light up when he gets home from work not only gets his heart racing and his palms sweat, but his pants so fucking tight.

Artistic

Now, this particular trait isn’t a must-have for Osamu, but it’s definitely a factor in what attracts him to his darling.

He likes the idea of a beloved that has hobbies of their own – someone who finds passion in their lives, and devotes a substantial portion of their time to practicing and perfecting their chosen art form.

This could be quite literally anything – painting, playing an instrument, drawing, cooking (Osamu’s personal favorite, though he must be a better cook than you, no exceptions), writing, sewing, crocheting, anything that gets his darling’s creative juices flowing.

He loves to watch them practice; there’s something about the expression on their face as they concentrate that really gets him going. Maybe it’s the way their tongue sticks out just slightly as they put the final touches on the cupcake batter they’re mixing, the way their brows twist together as they brush the ink over the paper, how they tap their foot as they try to keep their rhythm while playing a difficult passage on their instrument.

He just loves the way they look so invested and passionate, and if Osamu is being honest, a lot of this fascination comes from his hopes that one day they’ll think of him with that degree of devotion.

He loves the idea of his darling paying him so much mind and attention that he becomes their hobby, that their artistic urges get focused onto him – maybe the little scarves and knickknacks his darling makes start being his size or having gray hair and gray eyes.

Maybe the poems they write start depicting a man of strong build, with callused fingers and a heart of gold.

Maybe the pottery they mold starts resembling two hearts beating together, symbolizing his and his darling’s everlasting love.

It’s sappy and he knows it, but there’s something about his darling being passionate that really speaks to him – maybe it’s because he sees himself reflected in them, but regardless it only fuels his obsessive tendencies, pushing him to learn as much as he can about the craft so he can impress you, just as he desperately wants to.

Smart

Again, this particular trait isn’t hard and fast for the chef, but it’s most definitely a plus in the stages of his infatuation forming. He’s always had a thing for smart, capable women; he likes the idea of a girl who isn’t afraid to be right, who doesn’t try to dumb themselves down for other people.

Of course, humility is important too (no one likes a braggard, do they?), but Osamu takes pride in the fact that his darling is so smart, that his darling is so talented. And this can take the shape of many different things – perhaps his darling is a gifted mathematician, able to solve equations with little trouble because they just get numbers.

(He likes to imagine the way their math skills might falter as he holds them over his knee, their pretty ass bare to him as he spanks them again and again, hearing them count aloud and grind their pussy against his knee in a way they think is oh-so-subtle.)

This could be his darling being strongly empathetic; able to understand the way others feel, putting them at ease and investing in making sure they’re okay while Osamu flounders to understand why they’re crying in the first place.

(He likes to think this is a sign that his darling would be a perfect mother, always able to calm down their children and make them giggle and smile, even while their knee is scraped up or their favorite toy is broken.)

It could be that his darling has knowledge of a very particular, niche topic; he could listen to them talk for hours upon hours, never losing interest as he nods along to their words, watching the way their lips move and form words, part of him forcing himself to listen while the other part wars to reach out and shut you up with his own mouth.

He just really likes the idea of a smart darling, one he can be proud to call his own, and if you were to tell him off with some logical, well grounded argument? Well, he’s still not letting you out of the basement, but fuck it all – one glance at his pants is enough to show you how your little speech has affected him, and he has no qualms showing you, either.

Optimistic

While Osamu isn’t necessarily a pessimist, he’s most definitely in the middle of the spectrum in terms of his outlook on life. He likes to consider himself a realist; he has no delusions about what life is (though, he most certainly does have delusions about what the two of you are), and he’s not embarrassed to say that more often than not, life has a way of choosing the non-ideal routes.

Of course, things could obviously be much worse (how can he say life is bad when it’s led to him meeting you, the single best thing that’s ever happened to him), but they could be better too. He’s neutral, really, which is why a darling that’s more optimistic would be a perfect fit for him.

Overwhelming negativity is exhausting, and if his darling only ever complains without anything positive to say, Osamu would quickly grow annoyed and tired of their presence, snapping at them to shut up, I can’t listen to you bitch anymore.

It’s not that his darling has to be always happy, always looking at the bright side (as this, too, can be equally as annoying as constant negativity), but he likes that his darling just naturally assumes the best in people.

Of course, it terrifies the protective part of him, the one that’s always paranoid about their safety and the intentions of others regarding them, but even for as much sleep as it causes him to lose at night, it’s just too damn cute. When they’re smiling at others and encouraging them through difficult times, Osamu can’t help but swoon; they’re just too adorable, too motherly, too fucking perfect.

He likes that they’re just genuinely a happy person – he’ll always lend an ear to them when they inevitably have a bad day or need to complain, but he’s quick to give them kisses all along their face and neck, whispering that they’re absolutely right babe, I hear ya.

He just likes how sweet it makes him, and only furthers his idea that they need protection – the world has a nasty way of dimming those that shine brightest, after all.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS

Controlling

While it isn’t necessarily purposeful, Osamu has a bit of a problem when it comes to being a prominent figure in your life.

He’s used to having to share everything, from the limelight to the occasional toothbrush, socks to volleyball shoes with his twin. He’s used to being known as ‘the other Miya’, as the chef with the famous athlete for a brother.

So to finally have you, something all completely his own, how can he be blamed for being a little more paranoid? Can he really be faulted when he’s just trying to make sure that you stay his and only his?

He’s not even really conscious of the way he slowly begins becoming an omnipresent part of your life, how those cold metallic eyes are always watching over your shoulder, staying fixed on your figure because every little thing you do is riveting to him, fascinating and something he needs to see, to make sure you’re doing as you should, that you’re staying safe and healthy and happy.

He doesn’t mean to come off as the controlling boyfriend (though, his tendencies of being more intrusive than he should be will start much earlier than the boyfriend stage – when you’re both still acquaintances, friends, when his obsession is still freshly new), but with the way he slowly begins demanding more and more from you, the message will be pretty clear.

You’ll likely write it off at first; his insistent questions of who are you going with when you tell him you’ll be out for the afternoon seeming oddly serious, but it’s ‘Samu, right? It’s Osamu Miya, a man you know isn’t as petty as being jealous over your time being spent with another, who isn’t bothered enough to be weird about it, right?

You’ll just laugh it off, though this has the opposite affect on the man in front of you – your laughter has him on edge, wondering if you’re lying to him, wondering if you’re going out to meet another man – what’s Atsumu up to tonight?

Suna?

Ginjima?

The paranoia eats away at him as he paces around, terrified that you might be flirting with another man, chatting and making eyes at some piece of shit, that he could be touching you and fucking you and making you scream out a name that isn’t Osamu fucking Miya – the paranoia is really rather extreme, the deeply rooted fear forcing him to get more serious much quicker than he’d expected.

Soon he’s not only asking who you’ll be with, but where you’re going, how long you’ll be out, what you’re expecting to do, when you think you’ll be home, where and when to be checking your phone for texts or calls from him.

You’ll think it’s strange, confusing why he’s being so weirdly protective over you (and being so damn insistent, as he’s literally grasping your hands in his and forcing you to repeat back a promise to check yer damn phone every five minutes, what if something happened? Ya understand, right? I have to be able to check in with ya when I need to.), but, just like before, you’ll just brush it off, nodding hesitantly and slipping out the door, unease crawling up your spine.

You’ll slowly come to feel as if Osamu is suffocating you, his presence overwhelming and always there, as if there’s no escape from his probing questions, his insistence on you always contacting him (though, the tracker he’s placed on your phone makes it so that his demands to update him on your location via text aren’t really necessary, but it makes him feel better).

And from there, things only get more extreme – he’s catching your wrist as you go to pluck a piece of fruit out of the pile, narrow gray eyes watching you as he tells you to choose something healthier, why don’t I just make ya somethin’ to eat?

He’s sighing and blocking the door when you leave the living area, telling you to sit down and drink the glass of water he’d given you before you go lay down in bed, before you use the restroom, before you shower or brush your teeth or yawn or speak.

He quickly becomes the sole dictator of your life, making you ask permission for every little thing, making you feel subservient and below him, making you feel as if you’re nothing without him, as if you can’t properly take care of yourself without his guidance, without him metaphorically (and literally) spoon feeding you.

And frankly, as irritating and terrifying as it is, it’s difficult to get mad at him – after all, Osamu doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s not even about explicitly controlling you for him; it’s more about making sure you’re his and that no one else can get to you, to make sure that you aren’t being swept away or stolen by anyone else.

And of course, it’s to get you trusting him, relying on him, needing him, because isn’t that what relationships are about? Mutual love, dependence, desperation?

Protective

Going hand in hand with his paranoia and controlling tendencies, Osamu views you as someone who, despite your best efforts, isn’t really able to take care of yourself. He trusts you and loves you, at least as much as he can given his staggering devotion to you, and yet he doesn’t inherently trust you with you, with your health and safety and care.

No, that’s his job, him as the man and your caretaker and the only one who can actually take care of you, who can adhere to your every need, whether you’re aware of it or not.

He’s fairly domestic at heart, loving the softer moments, and you’ll notice this extremely early on with his obsession with you. He’s always trying to cook you things, and while it’s sweet, soon it’ll start getting a bit weird.

He’s got a full course meal for you every lunch, always your favorite foods cooked exactly how you like them despite never mentioning it to him in more than passing. He’s raising his chopsticks and telling you to say ahh, his voice soft and gooey, practically purring at you. He’s placing the sushi against your tongue and smiling boyishly at you, his cheeks dusted pink while pride swirls in his chest that you’re eating his food.

It’s sweet, at first, and damn can he cook, but once he starts showing up at your door with breakfast and dinner as well, inviting himself inside to eat with you and your family, chatting up your father and helping your mother cook, you’ll start growing uncomfortable, unsure of why he’s there.

You won’t know why he seems to care so much and why he’s subtly tapping your wrist under the dinner table, smiling softly and telling you to slow down a bit, you’ll choke if ya keep eatin’ like that.

It’s strange and it’ll feel beyond out of place, but Osamu is a charmer. He may not be as obvious or charismatic as his twin, but your parents will quickly be won over, everyone around you telling you how good of a person he is, how he’s such a catch, how he’s so sweet to you, won’t you just give him a chance?

He’s always pulling you closer to him, keeping you by his side so that you don’t stray too far, keeping a hand on your wrist or shoulder or waist or back, warm fingers pressing into your body as a discreet but strong reminder that he’s right there.

He’s grasping your hips as he maneuvers you to the side to avoid the crack in the sidewalk, sending you a strangely shy, boyish smile as his cheeks turn pink and he murmurs something about you being oblivious as hell, yer always getting’ hurt.

He’s quick to grab your wrist when you’re opening doors or grabbing something sharp or hot, sending you a small look as he does it for you, murmuring something under his breath about you being too delicate, can’t have ya doing something so dangerous.

He’s genuinely concerned about your health and safety, truly – he doesn’t mean to be overbearing. He’s not trying to be condescending by saying that you’re incapable of doing anything substantial on your own; of course not! He’s just concerned that you tend to be clumsier than he’d like, and what would happen if you tripped and skinned your knee, broke your arm, got a life threatening concussion that altered your life forever?

(Or, worse yet, made you forget about him?)

He’s just doing what he thinks of best, and the trouble with Osamu is that while he’s not particularly delusional, he’s also not particularly great at seeing the reality behind his actions. He knows he’s a bit more overboard on his protectiveness over you than he should be, but he’s able to honestly write it off as being chivalrous, as being a good, caring partner.

He thinks he’s being romantic and exactly what you want when he cuts the crusts of your sandwiches off for you (even if you didn’t ask).

He thinks he’s being attractive when he doesn’t let you package your own leftovers from the restaurants, claiming the food is ‘too hot’ even though it came out more than forty five minutes ago.

He’s just trying to help, and he’d never be able to forgive himself if you were hurt when he could’ve prevented it – after all, what does that say about his ability to take care of you? Does he even deserve to call himself yours if he can’t keep you from getting bruised or scraped?

Would you even want him if he can’t protect you like a man should?

Obsessive

Generally speaking, Osamu’s devotion to you knows no bounds.

He’s busy with his restaurant, cooking orders and managing paperwork, but in between shaping the rice and signing his name, every single thought is aimed towards you. He’s constantly idly wondering about what you’re doing, what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking, whether you’re happy or sad or whether you miss him.

He likes to imagine the way you look at any given moment you’re apart; he’ll imagine the soft smile on your face as you see a particularly cute pet when you walk down the street, your fingers itching to reach out and give it some love.

He’ll imagine the way you’d sigh to yourself and roll your eyes when your coworkers are being annoying again; he’s told you so many fucking times to just quit so you don’t have to worry about it anymore, but you always refuse and laugh him off.

(It pisses him off that you so lightly reject his advice; can’t you see how being there is ruining your mental health? Can you not see how it’s deteriorating you, how you’re so much more stressed now, how the money isn’t worth your time? It infuriates him, and he’s sure that once you’re living together, your full time job will be taking care of the house, not your own finances. He’ll cover that, so don’t you worry your pretty little head.)

He’s imagining the way you shrug on your jacket, zipping it up until it stops right below your nose because it’s fucking cold outside, how you’d look like a cute little hedgehog all wrapped up for winter – no doubt warm and soft and perfect to hold in his arms.

He’s always thinking of you in sweet, domestic situations; you’re just too adorable to him, and it’s always been his fantasy to find a partner and live out those horribly cliché romantic tropes he always sees in TV or reads in books.

He wants to be the one spoon feeding you warm soup on cold days, watching as you flutter your lashes shyly at him and compliment to new recipe he tried out (or, more accurately, the recipe he made up knowing your favorite ingredients).

He likes to think about waking up in the mornings with you, the sunlight streaming onto your face as you let out soft little breaths and even the occasional snore, making his nose scrunch up and a snort leave his laugh because fuck, he’s heard that nose through your window for years and now that it’s right in front of him?

He’s imagining falling asleep with you, too, helping you with the skin routine he demands you set up and carry out with him – he wants to have dozens of photos on his phone of you making a kissy face in the mirror with him, a white mask covering your skin and making you look like some sort of slasher serial killer.

He’s plagued by thoughts and fantasies of you in every shape and form. (Some much, much more explicit than the kind, domestic ones – images of you on your knees with cum dripping down your chin and onto your tits, your fingers holding open your pussy and turning away your head in embarrassment as he stares from above you on the bed, the way you’d wantonly moan out his name and scratch down his back because he just feels too damn good.)

And so, the basis of his obsession with you starts out almost immediately with gathering information about you.

He wants to fantasize these sweet (and not-so-sweet) moments with you, but in order to this he needs to know more, to learn more. He wants to know everything he possibly can; when do you fall asleep at night?

Do you spend hours staring at your phone in the darkness of your bedroom, or are you out the moment your head hits the pillow?

What kind of food do you like?

Do you eat breakfast, and if so how would you feel about breakfast in bed, with you woken up to the scent of freshly scrambled eggs and a few (much too heated) kisses to your forehead by Osamu himself?

Do you prefer to spend time with others or by yourself?

Are you an animal person, and if so would you consider getting a pet with him as a trial run for your first child?

He wants to know every possible detail there is about you – and he’s frighteningly good at it. He’s just so unsuspecting; he’s nice, funny, a stand-out guy to everyone that knows him, and why would you have reason to think any differently?

Sure, it may be slightly offputting with how insistent he is that he’s always with you and making sure others don’t get close to you, but you’ll answer every question he throws at you.

After all, it may seem a bit odd to be asked what your greatest fear is, but you’ll just at him and puzzle over the answer, pressing a finger to your lip as you hum in thought.

It may be strange initially to be bombarded with so many questions about your future plans (where do you want to live? What do you see as your ideal marriage? Your ideal house? Your ideal number of children? Could you see yourself becoming a housewife or a stay at home mother?), but you’ll shrug off the sense of unease coiling at your shoulders and answer him honestly, because that’s just what friends do.

However, once his questions start teetering to a more questionable side, things that you don’t feel comfortable sharing with him, with another man, red flags may begin appearing for you. After all, why does he need to know your bra size?

The package of fancy lingerie that appears on your front door the next day in delicate lace of your favorite color surely can’t be connected to him, right? Even if the fit is perfect?

Why does he need to know how heavy your periods are; what knowledge could that serve him?

(Quite a bit actually, if the some twenty boxes of pads, tampons, and menstrual cups he’s hoarded into his closet in his apartment is any indicator.)

You’ll slowly grows confused by his efforts to know more and more, but Osamu is slick; he’s good at keeping information at bay, at comforting your fears because he's just such a nice guy, now won’t you please take another sip of your beer and tell him what position gets you seeing stars every time?

He just loves you, and he expresses his love by overfilling his brain with information of his favorite variety – you.

DEALING WITH RIVALS

While it would be a stretch to say Osamu never feels jealousy, he wouldn’t be lying if he said that the majority of his unease with other men earning your attention lies from the perspective of simply wanting to protect you.

Of course, he doesn’t like the possibility of your attention and love deviating away from him, your pretty eyes no longer focused on his, your smiles and laughter no longer aimed at his words and jokes. He likes that you seem to like him – he needs you to like him, after all, but that isn’t the entirety of what fuels his jealousy.

No, it’s the paranoia that eats away at him every time he sees you in public with any number of other people around you. He knows what kinds of monsters a lot of men are – he went to school with a number of them, and while he considers his friends to be good guys, even his closest companions have said questionable things over the years.

Hell, he’s though some questionable things over the years – of course, he’d never act on them, but idle thoughts of wow, she’s got nice tits or those pants are tight, wish she’d bend over again shocking him and making his cheeks flush red. He always feels guilty, immediately leaving the room and not able to look the woman in the eye ever again, but if he, Osamu Miya, someone who likes to think of himself as a feminist and non-threatening to women, is capable of such thoughts?

Then what do the men that don’t hold themselves to higher standards think? What kind of sick, perverse thoughts are rolling through their heads when they see a pretty woman nearby, a pretty woman like you?

It makes his skin crawl to just think about it, and so while he knows that rationally four out of five men would never hurt you, there’s always the what if eating at the back of his mind. He likes to think of himself as a the chivalrous, traditional male partner who cares for and protects his lover, and what kind of a man would he be if he wasn’t able to keep vicious hands – and heaven forbid, cocks – away from you?

What does that say about his ability to protect you, his ability to keep you happy and safe by his side? And so, while jealousy happens to him fairly often, most of the time it’s an ugly mix of his own personal jealousy, his protectiveness, and pure selfishness that cause him to tense up and watch the scene with an extra careful eye.

Towards the beginning of his obsession with you, Osamu was much more reluctant to actually interfere in situations in which he suspected something bad may happen. Of course, the moment anything bad actually did happen, like the man talking to you and reaching out to touch your shoulder, forced him to spring to life, to come to your aid and make him out to be not only the knight and shining armor, but also to get you out of that situation.

He’ll always remember the first time he did this – you ‘d been cornered by a man at a park while Osamu ‘happened’ – at least, you think it was an accidental meeting – to be passing through. The man had been sneering at you and backed you up against a tree in a less populated area, with no one seeming to notice.

You’d been visibly scared; shoulders tensed up and little stuttered pleas for him to move falling past your lips, but the man didn’t seem to care – or maybe, didn’t seem to mind. He’d been quick to swoop in, stepping between you and the man, and while Osamu doesn’t quite have the same physique as he did in high school, his height and the still very clear muscles coating his arms were enough to have the man scuttering off, spitting at the ground and glaring at Osamu.

He’d immediately turned around to help calm you down, leaning down and placing his hands on your shoulders, and it’s safe to say that the way you hugged him and whispered your thanks only further cemented his obsession for you – if you were to ask in the future, that’s the moment he’d say he knew he was in love with you.

And so, after that initial turning point, Osamu hasn’t hesitated much when it comes to defending you against unwanted (or, even wanted) attention from men – it’s his job, after all, and the reward of you clinging to him is so damn worth it.

The bell chimes right as expected, Osamu’s back facing the door to Onigiri Miya.

He can’t help the wide grin that takes over his features, even as he tries to bite it back so as to not lose his cool. He’s sure a flush is coating his cheeks; you always come in around five o’clock on Wednesdays like today, ordering your usual – onigiris that Osamu makes specially for you, but would never tell you is only willing to make for you.

He’s molding the rice with his hands at the counter, grateful for the open concept kitchen and eating area because as he turns around and sees you walking up to the register, the breath gets sucked out of his lungs.

Fuck, you’re so pretty.

And you’re looking right at him – chuckling as you call his name and wave your hand again, breaking him of the stupor he’d been trapped in. He clears his throat in embarrassment and fixes his cap, wiping down his hands on his pants as he approaches the register.

You greet him and give him your order, mentioning off-handedly you’ve been looking forward to his food all day – it must’ve been the only thing that got you through work, you’re sure. Osamu’s heart melts in his chest, the feeling in his fingers fully gone as he lets the compliment sink in, but he’s almost on autopilot as he rings you up and takes the money from your hand, already pushing the tray containing the onigiri your way.

(He’d already had it prepared, something you asked with a laugh as you took the tray, though you’d turned on your heel after thinking him before you could hear his small, vulnerable of course.)

His shift takes what seems like forever after that – he’s trying to focus on cooking, on making sure the seaweed lays perfectly against the rice, the filling being mixed to perfection, not letting any customers wait too long at the register, but it’s hard.

It’s hard to not watch the way you enjoy your food as you sit at the table by the window, the overcast sky shining in on you and making you seem to glow.

It’s also hard to ignore the way the man at the table next to you keeps sneaking glances at you, and when he opens his mouth to finally speak to you once you’re roughly halfway through your food, Osamu’s hand involuntarily crushes the rice in its grasp.

He curses under his breath as he sets it aside, perking his ears up and straining to hear the conversation. He’s flirting, Osamu realizes with a gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach – and badly, too. All compliments about your looks; you’re looking pretty today, love that skirt on you. Do you work out? You’ve got great legs. Osamu feels a shiver roll down his spine, and suddenly the mishappen rice is forgotten as he can only stare at the interaction, feeling his body temperature rising rapidly the longer the stranger talks.

You laugh weakly at the man’s comment, clearly uncomfortable as you shift in your seat to get further away from the man who’s clearly leaning in towards you. Your fingers tap nervously against the table you’re seated at, the shop suddenly feeling much too empty to you.

Oh, uh, that’s very nice of you… you trail off, hoping to end the conversation in its tracks. Unfortunately for you, the man doesn’t seem to pick up your hint.

He resumes on, rambling on about his own workout regimen, even going so far as to pull back the sleeve of his t-shirt and flex, cocking a brow at you and offering to let you touch his bicep.

You refuse, as politely as you can, and turn back to face your food. This seems to displease the man, and Osamu watches with a sharp, dangerous inhale of breath as the man reaches over and grabs your hand, setting it on his arm as he murmurs out a doesn’t it feel good –

Osamu’s moving before he knows it, having jumped the counter and practically sprinting to reach you. His wrist slaps away the man’s hand, your own fingers retracting immediately. He stares down in anger, disgust, barely contained rage, watching as the stranger’s lips part, anger and fear swimming in the man’s black eyes. Get out. Harassment is not tolerated in this restaurant. Get the fuck out, and don’t ever come back.

His voice is deep, the scariest you’ve ever heard it, and for a moment even you’re terrified – of Osamu, of all people.

But it seems to do the trick; the man is out of his chair in an instant, almost cowering away as he shakes his head and haughtily scoffs, walking towards the exit and keeping his shoulders taut all for show.

Osamu growls, before spinning on his heel and facing you, his hands on your shoulders as he searches your eyes with his own. He asks frantically if you’re okay, bombarding you with questions while you simply stare, before lunging at him and wrapping your arms around him, your shoulders shaking slightly as you whisper your thanks over and over. Osamu freezes for a moment, a pink flush spreading across the plains of his cheeks, before his arms return the embrace, squeezing you so much it nearly hurts.

He stays like that for who knows how long, before you pull back and he begrudgingly lets you go. You gulp and tell him you’re okay, that you’ll just finish this last bit of onigiri and then you’ll be off, and Osamu only nods, a displeased look on his face.

He scruffs your hair as he stands up, smirking down at you as you whine a bit, before he steps out the door, following the path he’d seen the man take.

It’s not hard to find him, nor is it hard to shove him against the alley wall, his fist meeting flesh once, twice, five times as the howls in pain. He’s clutching his face in his hands and crouching down by the time Osamu is done with him, but all the chef can do is spit at him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and cursing under his breath.

Disgusting, treating women like that. Especially my women. Don’t you ever fucking come back, or next time I’ll kill ya. I’m dead serious. Yer fucking dead.

He seems happier when he steps back inside the shop, sending you a little wave to which you return, unknowingly making his heart flutter and his resolve harden.

Yeah, he’d do whatever it takes to make you safe and happy – even if it means roughing up his own criminal record.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY

To be quite honest, the prospect of kidnapping you occurs to Osamu disturbingly quickly.

He’s always seen himself as wanting to end up with a partner one day – a pretty wife that he cherishes and who cherishes him back. He wants to live in a nice, downtown apartment a few blocks away from his restaurant, the whole place painted shades of white and gray (he’d never admit it, but just to match his hair and because his skin tone looks best against the color), with maybe a cat or child running around not too long after.

It’s a fantasy, pure and simple, but while little fourteen year old him was embarrassed to be daydreaming about such a sappy idea (Atsumu had been more than willing to make him aware of how weird this was when he’d accidentally let it slip at sixteen), the embarrassment has faded with age until Osamu began viewing the idea as less of a desire and more of a sure aspect of his future.

And so, once his feelings of such magnitude for you form, you seem to fit perfectly into this image he’s built in his mind.

You’d be such a good partner – he’d love to live by your side, sharing the dinner table with you, a bed, a shower, even a toothbrush if you wanted to. (And in case you’re wondering, yes, he wants to.)

It’s remarkably easy to imagine stepping into a bath tub with you, his bare chest against your bare back as you lean against him, letting your wet hair fall over his shoulders and his chin hook above your head. He'd rub his arms up and down your shoulders, admiring the way you shiver in his touch before relaxing, the heat of the water making your muscles loosen as the shiny diamond on your ring finger winks up at him, validation that you’re his, that he earned you.

It’s surprisingly easy to imagine poking your nose with a dollop of whip cream as he makes a batch of eclairs, seeing the way your nose scrunches up and you giggle, wiping it off your skin and instead placing it on his lips, following it up with a kiss and mischievous tongue that licks away all the cream.

It’s disturbingly easy to picture the way you’d breathlessly whisper to him that the test is positive – we’re – you’re – you’re gonna be a dad, ‘Samu.

You just fit the entire fantasy oh so perfectly, and so it just feels natural to substitute in your form whenever he finds himself idly daydreaming about his future. It’s mostly during long shifts at the restaurant or late nights alone in his bed that the thoughts come, but after only about two months of his obsession reaching it’s full fledged rage that the notion that he needs to live out these fantasies really solidifies.

No longer is it something he sees himself eventually doing – no, he will be living out his hopes for his future life, and you will be the one doing it with him. And so, while he’d ideally have you consenting to this and choosing to move in with him, Osamu isn’t above forcing you, either.

Of course, he’ll ask you first; it’s intended to be casual, the way he brings up moving in together, your brows shooting up in confusion because we’re not dating, ‘Samu, right? So why would we move in together…?

And really, you don’t have to remind him of that – you’re practically dating, aren’t you? With the amount of time you spend together, the longing glances he gives you that he swears are returned, and the way you melt into his touch when he gives you what you think is a friendly hug or kiss on the cheek.

You’re basically already together – which is why Osamu decides that sure, you may be pissed at him for the first few days, weeks, hopefully not months of being his captive, eventually you’ll come around. You seem to have a soft spot for him, and he can treat you like he should – he promises.

He can make you happy, in ways you’ve never been happy before.

And really, as much as you won’t want to admit it, Osamu is right.

You are mad when you first wake up to a semi-familiar but not quite known bedroom, your chest rising and falling rapidly because this isn’t your home. You don’t remember going home with anyone the night before, so where are you?

It’s only once Osamu slips into the room, his face lighting up at seeing you awake that the pieces slowly start connecting, the lock he sets into place on the door’s deadbolt making panic eat away at your gut.

You’re mad, enraged, terrified, and all Osamu can do as you struggle and yell at him to let you go is sigh and nod his head, telling you that it’s okay, I understand this is scary, but it’s what’s best for you. For us.

Of course, that doesn’t get you any calmer – you’re quick to spit out allegations of him being crazy, telling him that there is no ‘us’, that it’s not okay for him to be locking you away with him for the rest of your life – as he so brazenly tells you.

Osamu is patient, though, at least at the start. He’s not delusional enough to believe that you’d be happy the moment you wake up in your new home, that everything would be rainbows and butterflies.

However, Osamu does eventually expect you to straighten up; maybe it’ll be Stockholm Syndrome, maybe it’ll be those feelings of attraction you’d held for him before being stolen away resurfacing once more.

Frankly, he doesn’t care – all he cares about is now you’re in his grasp, by his side, where he can keep you safe, secure, and his. And safe he’ll make sure you are; the entire house is nearly babyproofed, because while he doesn’t think of you as an infant or treat you like one, there’s a part of him that’s too terrified that you’ll see the knife and start getting ideas.

He’s scared that if he doesn’t have covers on all the outlets, you’ll take the fork and jam it in as far as you can go, hoping your heart will eventually stop beating. The thought is too much for him to bear, and so he’d begun planning to make his apartment (in a very exclusive part of town, thanks to Atsumu’s connections, complete with soundproof walls and more square footage than he could ever hope to use) as perfectly fit for the both of you as early as he could.

And so, once you wake up that fateful morning to his bedsheets, you don’t really have a chance at escaping. And despite being kidnapped, you’ll find that you don’t particularly want to; you don’t have too much anonymity, but at least Osamu respects you enough to let you do your basic hygiene alone.

He’s not accompanying you to the toilet, nor does he brush your teeth for you, nor does he dress you himself. Of course, he’d love to do any number of these things, but he still sees you as your own, respectable person – just a person that needs him, is all.

Some things Osamu will still force you to include him in, though; showering is an activity that is always done together, your wet, nude bodies hovering close as he runs the loofah over your back, dipping dangerously close to your ass as he breaths a heavy kiss against the shell of your ear.

Cooking is an event that while he mostly does alone (he doesn’t trust you with a knife yet), you’ll be seated at the dining room table, expected to keep him company while he flies around the counters with pots and pans.

He’s really not too terrible of a captor, really. He’s pretty physically affectionate with you, always pressing kisses against the crown of your head, your fingers, your thighs, your lips and neck, and his arms are always around your waist while he sighs and relaxes against you.

He’s touchy, yes, but every amenity under the sun will be yours when you’re under his roof – nice TV’s with access to every streaming platform you could want, because he knows you get hankerings for programs that are difficult to find.

You’ll have exquisite food, always prepared by him and hand made with love (and perhaps, other things as well, though you’d rather die than find out the secret ingredient of his famous fried rice).

You’ll have an assortment of fluffy, warm sweaters (all of which have been worn by Osamu and spritzed with his cologne, just to get you falling in love with his scent), and all the blankets and stuffed animals you could ever want.

He wants to spoil you, and his only rules are pretty easy to follow; obey him, don’t try to escape, and don’t try to do anything that could hurt you.

It’s not horribly complex, is it?

It’s really not, and after a while of being stuck with Osamu as your only human contact, his kind words, compliments, gentle touches and earnest desire to please you, you’ll slowly find yourself letting your guard down, developing begrudgingly loving feelings towards him. You’ll hate it at first, hate both himself and yourself, but at the end of the day you really don’t have a choice.

Because while Osamu may chastise you for attempting to crack your neck (you’ll break it, baby, don’t crack it like that) or wear something light weight when the heating is broken for a few days in January (put on yer jacket or my sweatshirt, can’t have you walking around in shorts and a t-shirt for Christs’s sake), it’s difficult to ignore the way he looks at you with such reverence and devotion.

And while it may have scared you at first, eventually you’ll come around to it – isn’t it nice to know how much Osamu needs you? Isn’t it nice to feel wanted and desired, to know you’re the reason your captor is living, breathing, smiling?

It’s a head-fuck, sure, but who cares? All you’ll ever know for the rest of your life is Osamu Miya, so why not make the best of it?

PUNISHMENTS

For the most part, it’s true that Osamu is a fairly lenient captor.

He’s not particularly harsh nor demanding, and he does genuinely want to see you smile and return his feelings. Those fantasies of having a loving domestic life with you that he’s harbored for so long bar him from any truly atrocious acts, like burning you or leaving scars on your pretty body.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, not only because it would ruin his fantasies of being your perfect, caring lover, but also because he’d never be able to live with himself if he knew he was the reason for you being in pain. He’s driven to madness by his love for you, but he’s still not fully detached from reality – he knows that causing you pain is wrong, particularly physical pain. He’d be no worse than all those men he was trying to keep you away from when he was still developing his feelings for you.

And so, Osamu tries to give you as much freedom as he can within reason. You’re obviously not allowed to venture into the real world by yourself, nor are you allowed to do anything he deems dangerous (though, while belittling at times, eventually you’ll start to agree that it is dangerous for you to handle knives and razors, that you should just let him cut your apples and shave your legs).

You’re not allowed to disobey him, either, because if there’s one thing Osamu can’t tolerate from you, it’s disrespect or purposefully going against his words.

He doesn’t particularly enjoy brats, and he wants to be able to trust you to keep yourself out of harm’s way; it would save so many stress induced headaches, his eyes wearily watching the clock as he desperately wishes time would hurry up so he could close up shop and head home to you. He’s not super strict, and frankly it’s pretty easy to placate him – just hug him and compliment him, tell him you appreciate everything he does for you, and let him pamper you for a while.

He’s more than happy to take care of you; grabbing water and whipping up a nearly Michelin level meal of your favorite foods, with a yummy dessert for the both of you to share.

(With only one spoon, of course.)

He’ll turn on your favorite movie and have you lean back against his chest, his fingers idly massaging at your scalp as you watch the bright colors and action, familiar with every line and making him chuckle as you recite it.

He’ll lift the covers over your tired form when you’re about to fall asleep, diving down below them as he trails kisses down your stomach and between your legs, wanting you to fall asleep while feeling good, even if it leaves him hanging and having to either fuck his fist or your pretty thighs while you sleep.

And so, you’ll discover it’s actually pretty hard to tick Osamu off enough to get him to punish you – but when you do, he’s remarkably good at shutting down the behavior, even if it kills him to do so.

Osamu’s always known he’s soft on you; he doesn’t claim to pretend that he’s the traditional man of the household, putting you into your place so that you’re always the subservient woman.

No, if anything, Osamu plays both roles – being the strong man in the relationship, and caring to your every whim and need. And so, while it makes his heart ache and his gut wrench in agony to do it, he knows that the best way to punish you is to stop taking care of you.

He thinks the fastest way to show you that he’s your everything is to stop being it for a while – not cooking for you, not holding you in his arms, not engaging you in conversation and asking about your day, not giving you more attention than you would ever know what to do with.

It hurts him (more than it hurts you, if we’re being honest), but it’s the only way – and so, as Osamu watches in displeasure as you shake your head at him, he’s internally sighing. You’d refused to let him bathe you again – you’d been feeling rebellious lately, and while you’d only been with him for about a month – not nearly long enough for the Stockholm Syndrome to set in to the degree he wanted it to – he was starting to get sick of it.

Can’t you see he just wants to give you the proper love and care you deserve? It’s so hard to properly wash yourself, and it’s such a sweet, intimate moment to let him take control of your body, to run the soap through your hair and down the expanse of your arms and legs. Your rejection of bathing feels like a rejection of him, and so he merely nods his head, those gray eyes fixed on you.

Okay, he tells you, sitting up from the dinner table.

The barely touched food in front of you is snatched away from you in the blink of an eyes, being scraped into the garbage bin before you can even utter a word.

You’re confused, your rebellious flare dying down as you stare at him, unsure of what he’s doing. Osamu doesn’t say anything more, merely washing the plates in the sink while willing himself to not glance at you.

(It takes an inhumane amount of self-restrain to accomplish this task, as he’s so used to stealing looks at you nearly every minute of the day, too mesmerized by your beauty to do anything more than gape like a fish, but he manages.)

And maybe it’s petty, but hearing the way you mutter his name has his resolve hardening, because fuck, you’re already cracking.

Once the dishes are done, he dries his hands and whistles a tune to himself, heading down the hallway to his office. Paperwork is strewn across the wooden top, evidence of the way he’d been procrastinating for days on doing it in favor of spending time with you, but now is the perfect time. With a heavy sigh, he plops down into his rolling chair, picking up the pen and getting to work signing and approving business transactions, visualizing where he wants the company to be this time next year.

He slowly grows immersed in the work, having chanted to himself too heavily at the start of the paperwork to ignore you, ignore you, make her dependent on you by ignoring her needs, it’s the only way.

And so, when you peek into his office room, biting your lip in worry, Osamu genuinely doesn’t notice. You’re not sure what’s going on – he’s never this dismissive of you, always asking you if you’re hungry or need anything, if you’d like to read a book together or take a nap.

He’s never gone this long with at least smiling at you, and while it’d likely only been forty five minutes since you’d told him in a moment of bravery that you didn’t want to bathe with him, it feels like a lifetime.

You watch for a few moments, before carefully sitting yourself in the plush armchair in the corner of the room, situated so that you’re watching his back as his pen flies across the paper and his finger across the calculator.

At some point, Osamu notices your presence, but he steels himself to remain visibly ignorant to you and your eyes that seem to be boring into him.

Soon he finishes for the night, groaning as he stretches his shoulders and arms, but as he gets up to leave he doesn’t bother to spare you a glance.

You heart aches; are you missing him? The thought has you biting your lip harshly, tears stinging at your eyes at the realization, but before you can anything you hear Osamu turn the faucet on the bath on, the sound of rushing water making you stiffen up. Perhaps… if you want his attention back, maybe you’d have to…?

Osamu's brows are tightly drawn as he strips himself of his clothing and steps into the tub, trying to let the warm water relax his tense muscles. He peeks at the (purposefully) open door to his left, wishing that you’d appear, but after five minutes of you not showing up, Osamu sighs.

This is the right thing to do, he just knows it – how else is he supposed to get you dependent on him, on his love and protection? He knows it, he swears, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, that his lungs don’t feel like they’re crushing under the weight of his heartache –

He’s brought out of his reverie as he feels a poke at his hand, opening his previously closed eyes to see you standing next to him, a nervous and somewhat embarrassed look on your face.

With a start, Osamu notices that your cheeks are wet and your eyes still a bit red, and immediately guilt is crashing into him; he made you cry, fuck. He blinks at you, trying to keep his face emotionless, and watches as you gulp.

I-um, can I get in with you? You’re asking in such a quiet, unsure voice, and for a moment Osamu threatens to break his careless façade, the urge to swoon at your cuteness nearly too much to handle.

He blinks once more, prompting you to keep speaking.

You play with your fingers as you stare down at them, letting the words fall off your tongue. ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a brat. I’m just – I don’t know. I’m scared, ‘Samu, of how I’m feeling. You stole me away, and I’m not supposed to love you or even like you, but I don’t think I hate you anymore. I think – I don’t know, it’s confusing, but I think that I’m starting to need you.

Osamu’s heart is racing in his chest, your admission making his chest flush bright red, joy eating away at him because are you being honest?

Are you speaking from the heart?

The way you look so frustrated at yourself tells him that you are, and with a swallow much too loud to be unheard by you, Osamu speaks. Do ya understand that I’m just trying to take care of ya?

You quickly nod, chancing a glance at him, only to find his gaze stuck on you, the intensity making you shrink back.

It’s silent for a moment, before Osamu’s face splits into the softest, happiest smile you think you’ve ever seen, his arms opening wide as the water splashes lightly against his chest. Hurry up, cold water’s no fun to be in.

Your lips part and your eyes widen, and quickly you’re stripping off your clothes, too relieved at the way he’s looking at you to be embarrassed as every inch of yourself is revealed to his prying gaze. Soon you’re clambering in, burying your face into his neck and wrapping your arms around his torso, letting him return the embrace as you whisper against his skin.

I’m sorry ‘Samu, I know you love me and just want me to be safe, I’m sorry I acted out. I won’t do it again, just – just please, don’t ignore me. I need you too badly for that.

Osamu’s never had such a warm, pleasant feeling sit in his stomach before, and neither has he had such wonderful, romantic sex in his life as that night – with you clutching at him, not letting a single inch of space between your bodies, his name rolling off your tongue in waves as you came again and again and again, all for him.

OVERALL DANGER

Overall danger rating: 6/10

Osamu isn’t too terribly dangerous.

As far as yanderes go, he’s somewhat tame; he’s mostly just extremely devoted to your safety, and in turn devoted to making sure he knows everything about you so that he can properly fulfill his duty as your lover.

He’s a bit of a sucker at heart, and so while he’s capable of hurting others on your behalf (and isn’t afraid to do so, if he feels your safety is being threatened), Osamu treats you with delicacy.

You’re precious to him, something he can think of as truly and wonderfully his; he doesn’t have to share you with another soul on this planet, and he cherishes the idea of being your one and only in the same way. He’s lovestruck, truly, and while his protective tendencies may scare you at times, it’s truly coming from a (mostly) good place.

He just wants you to be safe and happy and his, and so while it likely doesn’t win him many points to be relocating you to his apartment, chasing off any rivals for your affection, time, or attention, Osamu sees it as a necessary evil.

He’s always wanted to have and be a loving partner, and you’re the one he’s decided has to be it. So while he may not be the traditional knight in shining armor, all Osamu cares about is you falling for him, just as you should.

All he wants is for your dependence on him to grow, so that the two of your can be mutually addicted to one another, unable to go nary an hour without at least some form of contact, be that a smile, a touch, a kiss, or feeling your wonderful, perfect little cunt squeezing around him.

Osamu just loves you, and try all you can, but eventually you’ll return his feelings. And how could you not?

There’s something wrong with him, yes, but have you ever felt so loved?

Have you ever felt so seen, validated, wanted?

You never have, and you never will, so just accept it. Accept him.

#_lee's profiles #_general profiles #_osamu miya #_inarizaki #yandere haikyuu #yandere osamu miya #haikyuu x reader

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greenerteacups · 2 months ago

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Thoughts on sydcarmy? (figured i’d ask since you mentioned the bear in one of your asks.)

[normal person voice] THOUGHTS ON SYDCARMY? YEAH I GOT A FEW

To start from the beginning, I've been watching the Bear IRL as it airs, so I've been through all the hiatuses between seasons. And in season 1, I was the conductor of this ship. I was on the train basically from the minute they have that first bit of cooking synchrony in like episode 2 and my obsession with the coworkers-to-lovers trope perked its nose up, but I was promoted to captain when I saw the scene at the end where he grounds himself through a panic attack by thinking about her. Which — hey, by the way, sidebar? Directed to the writers of The Bear? I'm totally on board with the 'let's have more platonic bonds between men and women' stuff, I get why you like that story and want to write it, and seriously, platonic sydcarm, that's cool. That's awesome. But also: visualizing someone's face to anchor you through a panic attack — while in real life not at all inconsistent with platonic friendship — is an extremely loaded scene to drop in the middle of a narrative where the two characters in question have demonstrable chemistry and an intense but ill-defined bond, and your audience, which has been trained to close-read male-female relationships for signs of romantic interest, is going to read that scene as romantically intimate, if not sexual in nature. And they're not, like, ship-obsessed or whatever for thinking that. The visual language of your product does not exist outside of the cultural lexicon where it is being presented, regardless of your intentions. Anyway. [Sidebar over.]

Season 2, and especially the introduction of Claire, seemed to me like a Doylist way to address the SydCarmy train. The upshot to this is they do use this to talk about Sydney and Carmy being Weirdly Intimate Business Partners, and you get a lot of references to Sydney's jealousy, her disgruntlement with Claire, and Carmy's struggle to fuse the two worlds. The downside is that Sydney and Carmy no longer feel like the epic power chord at the center of the show, because Carmy's been shifted into this internal battle between Claire (who in many ways represents being Out of the industry) and Sydney (who, whatever else you can say about her, is very much In). And unfortunately for Claire, Sydney is just way better written. Like, I really did try to be fair to Claire, but it's not even close — and man, I didn't even feel like the writers were trying. Claire and Carmy's crush on Claire are introduced to the audience at the same time, and from there, she has zero scenes without Carm being either present or the subject of conversation. And like, that's so weird, on a show where almost everyone is rich and well-developed, and even the extended family in Fishes get little nods to their internal life. And I — I'm rambling. Point being, I think Season 2 took the wind out of SydCarmy's sails by making their dynamic antagonistic and strained by Carmy's obvious romantic interest in someone else, so I went into S3 with guarded optimism.

And then, like... okay. I'm a Sydney fan before I'm a SydCarmy fan, right? That man's cute and all, but she's the protagonist of this show for me. And at this point, I really do think the best thing for Syd is to get out of Carmy's orbit and go do her own thing. I don't believe in people being "too traumatized" for relationships to work, so I think a lot of the people blowing off Carmy as being "not ready" for love this season are full of hot air — but I do believe that Carmy's trauma is specifically impairing his ability to empathize with and care for Sydney, a fellow restauranteur and subordinate chef/protege, in a way that would make any iteration of their relationship satisfying to me. Getting him to that point would require the writers to dedicate a lot of storytelling and character development in a creative direction that they don't seem to be interested in. They are clearly interested in other things — worthy things! Cool things! Things that can make for a good plot! — but at this point, I was only interested in a version of SydCarmy that existed for about five minutes in the first 1/3 of the show, and it's time for me to face the music. I'm really excited to see where they take Sydney, though. I still trust the writers to do her justice, because they clearly know what a rare thing they have in her.

#greenteacup asks #the bear

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br1ghtestlight · 1 year ago

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"hello burger lady!! tiny people. BOB."

THE SLOW HEAD TURN WHILE FISCHOEDER IS STARING AT THEM LMAOO he's such a freak. what is he doing

aww linda put a smiley face on the check thats so cute. "nooo i enjoyed it :)"

A BROTHERHOOD?? BLOOD OATH? love how louise hears this and immediately stands up she's like hello. hello im interested. PLEASE let me into your blood oath club mr fischoder

babalon like the ancient uhh. thing.

ooooh :0

(also my dad used to call my mom babalon among MANY other creative insults when they were married and this immediately brought that memory back to me. but he said it like babble-on like she was babbling. sorry idk why i wanted to share that)

"and the other members already picked all of the best chefs in town soo im asking you" i literally dont believe fischoeder lmao he definitely just wanted bob to come along as his personal chef and couldn't come up w/ a better excuse like. come on

"a billion dollars" "nope." "a million dollars" "no...." "a billion dollars :D" "she just said that"

i know bob is holding onto fischoeder's back bcuz he cant see but also its like. kinda intimate?? like?

also love bob's new jacket. these are the kinda things you only notice when you've watched WAAYY too many bob's burgers episodes but its a nice jacket :) the blue color suits him. and it has a hood

personally i would be a little more concerned that mr fischoeder only has one eye and it is NOT looking in the direction of the dangerous sharp cliff theyre walking beside. i know he's driven bob in his boat before but he's SOO BLIND WHY ARE YOU WILLINGLY GETTING IN A BOAT WITH HIM <- saying this as someone who doesn't really have vision in one eye or depth perception. i wouldnt give in a boat with myself driving either

"it was actually kinda fun to come up with!! i-i hope you like it :)" bob is so sweet im gonna cry. he's so excited about cooking SOMEONE LET HIM RANT ABOUT HIS SPECIAL INTEREST RIGHT NOW. he's in autism heaven

NOT THE TIKTOK MENTION 😭😭

recognize some of these guys from the gingerbread house episode which was another horrible experience for bob lmao

"can i keep hiiim? 🥺" what is his PROBLEM

WAS HE WORKING THE OMLETTE STATION AT YOUR LAST SEX PARTY??? <- brand new sentence

also this 100% confirms to me that fischoeder has had sex with every old ass man on this camping trip bcuz NO WAY he's getting rich old woman pussy im sorry. i do think he's bisexual but his sex parties are male-exclusive. he fucked those old men

not looking forward to whatever is going to happen to bob in this episode.

I ALWAYS FORGET FISCHOEDER IS LIKE A HARDCORE DRUG ADDICT remember that time he did mushrooms in s13 That would explain some things. that weren't already explained by the alcoholism

bob is surprisingly chill considering the circumstances and the fact that he's getting less than a thousand dollars of restaurant equipment out of this. i know he trusts fischoeder (for some reason i dont entirely understand) but being blindfolded and taken to a secret island with a bunch of rich old men and having NO CELL SIGNAL and everybody is drugged as hell.... he doesn't even know where he is..... GIRL RUN‼️‼️

also there's only one bed in fischoeder's tent which means there's either a seperate camping section for the chefs (unlikely) he expects bob to sleep outside in the storm (very likely) or bob and fischoeder are going to have to share a bed 👀👀 i know its probably not going to be addressed but i need somebody to write And There Was Only One Bed bob x fischoeder fanfic about this episode immediately. like that needs to happen

bob realizing that the chances of him dying on this camping trip are quickly reaching eighty or ninety percent ooh he's COOKED

"Don't wear brown and black. Never look into someone's eyes..." "Bring your own fork. And briefcase." "Of course. Everyone knows that." "And leave one of your shoes as a gift." "But you have to hide it..." gene and louise are SOO silly i love them so much. they play off each other so well its like a constant improv class

this subplot is Trying To Teach Tina Social Skills meanwhile gene and louise don't have them either they just dont give a fuck about learning them. well louise knows them she just disregards them. gene doesn't know ANYTHING

HAHAHA BOB REALIZING THEYRE LEAVING HIM THERE TO DIE. ITS NEVER BEEN MORE OVER love him not even acknowledging their crazy fire drug-induced dancing he's so used to this bullshit. bob should get a week off after this MINIMUM but we all know he loves cooking too much for that

NOT MR FISCHOEDERS GAY ASS HIP SHAKE?????????

mfw im the only sober person at a crazy drug party full of rich people on an island during a deadly storm and its only Tuesday. 😐

UH OH IS THE CORRECT RESPONSE. BOB REALIZES HES SO FUCKED

aww its kinda cute he's making sure that fischoeder is taken care of too and packing up all their things. dad instincts

at a certain point u kinda have to call him calvin dude. like you're WELL past "mr fischoeder" territory in this situation <- is also calling him mr fischoeder in this review

"shh he's hunting us" is probably NOT what bob wanted to hear

there's something about this that is sooo.....

in defense of bob he has almost died or been killed with fischoeder SEVERAL times before this episode including in the movie. its like a male bonding thing for them at this point

"and i invented a new way to tie a tie" I KNEW I WASNT CRAZY FOR THINKING THAT LOUISES TIE WAS TIED WRONG IN THAT SCREENSHOT i love that i picked up on that and felt the need to point it out. having never worn a tie before in my life (not to my knowledge at least)

this is literally what it feels like when ur autistic and trying to understand neurotypical social conventions. tina is trying SO HARD she's such a sweet girl :( its okay baby girl i understand i get it

THE BITEY GUY HAS A NAME BOB

am i allowed to say that bob with wet hair is kinda 👀👀🔥

why'd he kiss him like that ??

he's suuuch a sweetie in his oversized jacket <3

"No, no. Plants don't like sweet drinks!" "Just hard liquor?"

"dad is missing a WILD night" *hard cut to bob tied up and being used as a human sacrifice for cannibalism*

WHAT WAS RHAT. WHY DID CALVIN LOOK AT HIM LIKE THAT. YES IM USING HIS LEGAL FIRST NAME BCUZ WTF WAS THAT GAY ASS GUILTY LOOK?? HES NEVER BEEN GUILTY BEFORE he care so much about bob im gonna throw up. what the hell

HE LIIIKES HIM 😭 HE FELT GUILTY BCUZ HE LOVES AND CARES ABOUT BOB THIS IS SO FUCKED UP 😭😭💕

he probably also feels guilty that this is like the sixth time he's gotten bob into a near death situation. like at a certain point it starts to feel personal yknow

*howling* "god. i hate when he does that"

straight up on the verge of a meltdown. i dont even blame him tbh

bob isnt WRONG but also we are talking about a crazy drugged up cannibal who thinks he's a wild animal so maybe we could leave saving him until tomorrow morning? like idk i feel like he wouldnt exactly fit on their dingy. and even if he did what if he bites

"and you do have to come for ice cream!! it wont be any fun without you" okay thats kinda cute. this episode definitely kept up to pace with the insane homoerotic relationship between bob and fischoeder and im happy about that. almost gave us the tiniest hint into what fischoeder really feels/thinks about bob which. yeah

VERY UNHINGED EPISODE BUT REALLY FUN AND CUTE?? everything between bob and fischoeder was so. soo. yknow. and the subplot was funny and cute too :) very sweet little episode i always love when they go off on adventures like w/ teddy in sea me now. and of course their (many many) near death experiences together thats truly what its all about baby!!! really enjoyed this episode it was exactly the right amount of unhinged and funny

#txt #bob's burgers #episode review

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gojosusedthong · 1 year ago

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♱ Au/Character/Relationship Trope suggestions but they get more specific ♱ :

「 ✰ Red is my personal fav :- 」

Cocky Boxer x mature trainer

Tired sheriff x criminal who loves the chase

flower shop x tattoo shop

Dumb x dumber

Chubby (insecure about it) x finds it sexy

Hates touch x extreme ocd

Farmer x curious city boy

Too sober x too drunk

Reincarnated dude x lover from past life

Hot electrician x stay at home husband

Tall shy x small big daddy energy

Sylvia Plath girl x Albert Camus guy

Art school student x cocky engineering student

Rich modern artist x renaissance dick rider who hates them

Overly explains the history of ancient artifacts x "I know"

Sir you're not allowed to dress in a chicken mascot here x doesn't stop

Makes literature/book references x the only one who understands them

Avoids paying for meals in restaurants in creative ways x doesn't fall for any of their tricks

Breathes x JSVDJEJWMWNSN

Emo artist x bubbly scientist

Baker x single dad with 2 daughters

Arrogant celebrity x fan who pretends to not care about them (they're losing their mind)

Talkative coffee shop barista x grumpy insomniac who only drinks black coffee

Obnoxious x tolerant

Museum lover x hates museum

Poor asf x has money to burn

Electric guitarist x amateur guitarist

Bulky patient plumber x clumsy himbo

People only like them for their looks x blind

stalker x worse stalker who stalks the stalker

Apologist x why are you apologizing?

Angry villain asking 'who did this?' x hero who's severely injured by another villain

Bad first impression x doesn't let them forget about it

Rude asf x apologizes for them

Depressed x depressed but intellectually dramatic about it (reads Kafka)

Flirty x wants nothing to do with them but falls twice as hard at the end

Author who hangs out at graveyards x a really concerned passerby

lost man x letting lost man sleep in his house

Immortal x a really confused Grim Reaper

Prince who can't sleep x musician who can make them sleepy

Receptionist x highly annoying store repeater

Loves pottery x asks them to help with pottery

Underrated singer x is their Top listener

Librarian x guy who can't read but stays in the library anyway

Overworked student x student who always sleep but scores higher

Friendly gardener x cold businessman but has a soft spot for them

Visits abandoned buildings x coward (they're build like a tank)

"Wait...so you're not a girl?" x "I get that a lot"

Elementary school teacher x accountant who dislikes children (says they're annoying)

Demon who always visits earth x angel who has to drag them back to hell

world renown chef x harsh food critic who dislikes everything the chef cooks (the chef is determined to change this)

Hopeless romantic deity x the most stinky lazy bum to ever exist (the deity adores them)

Overly worried about what others think x fuck it we only live once + do it for the plot

'so there's this book I've been reading...' x 'tell me all about it'

Attention seeker x obsessed with fictional characters (attention seeker is jealous of this)

Loud neighbor hosting parties every week x annoyed neighbor crashing their parties in the most weird ways possible

Spoiled emperor who manipulates everyone with his power to intimidate them x too dense to understand threats

Lazy bum like a koala x nags a lot but finds them endearing

I can't shut up x the only one who can make them willingly shut up with just a glare

"At least I'm being brave about it" x "whatever you say"

Fakes headaches and always sleeps in the school infirmary x class monitor who won't let this slide

Fakes being perfect (really insecure) x knows the secret that they try to hide (they make a deal)

Popular as the Mr. Nice guy (actually two-faced and gets mad easily) x discovers their secret side and confronts them about it (Mr. Nice guy begs them to keep it a secret)

Beyond beautiful model x nerdy photographer

Scary on the outside (actually really soft) x nice on the outside (the one you should actually be scared about)

Soft spoken yoga instructor x easily flustered gym bro

Desperate Journalist x celebrity who loves pranks and disguises

Doctor in a small town x the same patient who keeps getting into trouble

"This particular detail symbolizes the emptiness residing within the frail human mind and the bleak nature of their demise. What do you think?" x "That's a triangle"

Small Streamer x CEO who watches their live streams and donates a lot

Ex-professional wrestler x idiot who challenges anyone to a fist fight at waffle house

Always arguing for some reason x tries to be nice but snaps and argues twice as much (they make out to make up)

Loves sweets x hates them but has a collection of sweets in case they want it

Childhood friend who remembers everything x pretends to not know them but has a deep crush

Dimension traveller who tries to change their lovers fate x their lover that is destined to die during Christmas Eve in every alternate universe

Rock collector x son of a billionaire who would shamelessly pick up rocks from random places to give it to them and gets articles written about his weird behavior

Coworker with no vehicle x coworker with a cool bike and is willing to give them a ride

Goes to the cinema every night, every day to watch horror movies x watches the same movie as they do every night and thinks they're a stalker (the other thinks they're a stalker too but they get along and discuss the movies they watch)

Do what you will with these ideas

🂱 If you write a fic inspired by them pls tell me the title on Ao3 or Wattpad so I could read it 🂱

#tropes #writing inspiration #alternate universe #fiction writing #writing characters #on writing #story tropes #relationship tropes

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wordsinhaled · 2 years ago

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Oh I would love to hear more about "Morpheus is aware he has acquired somewhat of a reputation." 👀<3

ahhhhh okay so this is ... THE COFFEESHOP AU, the one inspired by the art by @levionok where hob is a barista and dream's a pastry chef, and in the same universe as tomorrow is a place we are together and this post

and... that is actually the only line i have written? oops... BUT i do have a lot of backstory that i've rambled to @ghostboyjules about on discord so i will paste that here!

i actually drew a tiny bit of art for it and it's tentatively called "when coffee dreams it dreams of chocolate"

so i was thinking about pastry chef/chocolatier morpheus in the coffeeshop au and that he probably got into Food and Cooking because it's like... random ingredients coming together to make something beautiful and he sees it as his creative outlet but he's awful at expressing himself still... so he's like, oh, okay, ingredients make Sense and are Precise and have Defined Results Every Time... and he's like a kinda creative type who reads a lot and pines after people from afar and his whole life everyone's just been like, "so that bloke morpheus is kinda weird or what???"

but then he gets to culinary school and people are like "oh. he has VISION" so he hides behind that a bit

and he sorta ages into somebody who can make it Look Cool but at his core he's still. just. just awkward as hell. blasting his goth and new wave music in his kitchen... expressing his feelings through pretty chocolates.... lurking through the bookstore. going to goth clubs just to Feel the Music

but in pastry school he can make beautiful things with ingredients and pour his love into them and all of a sudden people are like "oh, the 'hmm' is Vision and Genius" and it's easier to let them believe that than to be like "no, the 'hmm' is just me"

then hob meets him and is like "oh, he's a lil 'hmm' and i LIKE IT"

in this AU calliope became an event planner or something, or maybe even like an Actual Chef. they initially met in culinary school and were like oh, haha, your parents liked mythology too, huh?... and they were together and in love and married and had a restaurant together—some kind of bistro or something—but then they had like, clashing Visions and a huge falling out that made waves in the culinary world and kind of gave morpheus a name for being haughty and proud

so now nobody wants to work in partnership with him but they grudgingly respect him because his artistry is amazing. and calliope and morpheus actually do have a son, but calliope has sole custody

hence the anonymity, not giving hob his name at the coffeeshop, because morpheus moved and started over and now he runs his own bakery. but it just opened recently and he doesn't want scandal to follow him. he just wants to bide his time and remake his own legacy

i imagine that it's like, the kind of thing that is high-profile if you're in the industry but if you just own a random little coffeeshop you wouldn't know him type of deal

his bakery is a lil artsy place with murals on the walls that he also painted and he plays goth and new wave playlists over the loudspeakers and all the staff get to dress as counterculture as they want. he's a little insane, basically. and @valeriianz - sweet dream from the neighbors AU is TOTALLY a vibe... i imagine this place being a bit like that?

i imagine he also does stuff like encourage local artists to do street art on the walls outside, so at random hours of night there's just folks with spray paint and paint buckets and ladders, vibing and eating lil baked goods and "love my way" is blasting out the front doors and morpheus is sitting on the stoop just hanging

that's probably his shop opening party. he plans on it just being one night for opening but all the artists are so happy to do it and they ask him to consider making it a regular thing and he's like "...i will consider it" and then it becomes a once a month thing. (perhaps this is how hob finally sees him in his element - he invites hob to come to one of the paint nights and hob brings a ton of delicious coffee for everyone without being asked and totally falls (even more) in love. everyone raves about the coffee and asks hob to come the next month and morpheus is like "oh no... this is a Thing now..."

in the future, after they're together, hob can serve coffee at these art nights regularly and morpheus can know the healing feeling of having someone still want him and want to share things with him and collaborate with him even after truly knowing him

so before they know it hob is in the inner sanctum - up in the middle of the night while dream makes melted chocolate for dipped strawberries at the bakery, and hob sits on the counter reading him walt whitman

"you know, just because i make excellent coffee doesn't mean you don't need to sleep, love."

"i am in the midst of creation, hob."

"your sister won't like it if i let you keel over from exhaustion."

"my sister is not here."

"mmhmm, and i am."

(cue morpheus standing between hob's knees where hob sits on the edge of the counter. taking the book out of hob's hands with the hand not covered in melted chocolate so the book is safe from harm. hob taking hold of his other hand and carefully licking the chocolate from morpheus' fingertips

and in the end they do end up in bed, so hob counts it as a victory)

#the sandman #dreamling #coffeeshop au #YEAHHH i love this AU #can you tell

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archoniluthradanar · 9 months ago

Text

The test of a vampire : A Beauty and the Beast re-telling Part Six-Finale

The test of a vampire : A Beauty and the Beast re-telling

Marcus dei Volturi x female OC

Caterina still wants to go home, even though her time with Marcus has become pleasant enough. Her friend, Felix, proved to be a godsend, listening to her when she needs someone to talk with. In the end, will it be Marcus who gets his wish, or will Caterina get hers? Perhaps both will find their wishes fulfilled.

Chapter Six - Finale (so it's longer than previous chapters)

The Redemption

oooooooooooooooooooo

As the days passed, Caterina found she was enjoying the evenings spent with Marcus while he read to her. The timbre of his voice always relaxed her just before she was supposed to go to bed. She would finish her chores for the day, then have her supper. Afterwards, Felix would take her to Marcus' chambers, something she finally questioned him about while they were walking there.

"Felix, why must you always deliver me to Marcus? I do know the way," Caterina remarked.

"Sometimes, as you're well aware, he wants me to stay until your visit is over. Standing guard, as it were," Felix answered, careful not to say too much.

"Why does he require you stand guard anyway? Guard against what?"

"The castle is old and large, where one could easily get lost and end up in a dangerous area. Please don't question him or his orders, Caterina. It's for your own protection," Felix pleaded, unable to explain further. He knew not all vampires within the castle walls were trustworthy, and this human had to be kept safe at all costs.

"All right, I won't say a word, for both our sakes," Caterina said, not wanting her friend to get into trouble because of her. She gave the tall guard a smile and waited outside Marcus' doors.

Felix smiled down at her, thinking that this human knew nothing about the Volturi, yet she worried about him being punished by Master Marcus. He wished she knew the truth so he wouldn't have to hide his innate traits. For now, he would have to wait to see if Master Master revealed their secret. Hopefully, Masters Aro and Caius would not kill her for having that knowledge.

When Marcus opened the doors, he offered a welcoming smile to the woman who could prove to be his savior...and possibly more. He wondered if she thought differently of him, or was he still nothing more than her employer, the man forcing her to be here against her will. His need for her to love him was being superceded by his own growing realization that he was beginning to love her. He looked forward to their time together, having missed being close with someone for so very long.

Marcus allowed Caterina in and nodded to Felix. He then shut the doors after she had entered the ante-room. The fire was already blazing, Marcus knowing she loved its warmth.

Caterina had brought the book they'd last been reading. Her employer was almost done with it, and she was already looking forward to the next one. She sat on the sofa after handing Marcus the book.

"Did you have a satisfactory supper, my dear?" He asked, walking over to the sofa, carrying a carafe of red wine and a crystal goblet. He placed them on a small table next to the sofa. "Would you care for a drink?"

"I would like that, Marcus, thank you. Supper was amazing, as always. The chef is quite creative and there is always enough for seconds. I will miss his cooking when I go home."

Go home, she had said. Marcus was saddened that she still had the assumption he would release her, but what else could he expect. Each time she spoke with her father, he heard the joy in her voice, and he became jealous that her father inspired the happiness he wanted to bring about in her.

Caterina took her glass of wine, and made herself comfortable lying on her side by the fire. Marcus sat on the floor, using the sofa to brace his back. He extended his legs, crossing them at the ankle, and began reading.

While Marcus read, he experienced an ease he had not felt in so long. Was it her presence, or just the fact he had something to do that did not involve the other Volturi. He feared if he willfully forced the woman to stay, she would come to hate him. He needed her to be willing to stay of her own accord.

Caterina was feeling at odds with herself as well. She found herself admiring and liking Marcus more each day, but she missed her home. Even though she felt excitement at the idea of going back, she also felt some sadness at leaving the man who now seemed to be bending over backwards, in small ways, to please her.

While she listened to his deep voice reading the words from the book, Caterina had a brief image of her straddling his bare feet and climbing over his legs to his torso. These nights they spent together, Marcus dressed more casually in a pair of black slacks with a smoking jacket loosely tied closed. She imagined herself opening the satin jacket to kiss his neck while her hands caressed his hairless chest. Blinking her eyes, Caterina knew the wine was affecting her judgment.

When Marcus finished the book, he set it down on the floor beside him. He determined he would choose something more romantic for his next reading. He hoped to inspire something within Caterina that would bring her interest around to him.

Both moved to sit on the sofa, enjoying the last warmth of the dying fire. The wine was nearly gone, and Caterina was glad. It threatened her inhibitions, causing her mind to go places she needed to stay away from. She stifled a yawn, something not unnoticed by Marcus. He didn't want to let her go yet. His need for her was beyond sexual. He would be content to hold her in his arms while she slept, but he tamped down that thought, knowing he was jumping ahead of himself.

"You are sleepy, my dear. I can have Felix return you to your room." He hated parting from her, but he knew she would never agree to remain here in his chambers, let alone in his bed.

Caterina was tired, but was reluctant to leave. Marcus always had stories to tell that she found interesting. His knowledge of history was vast and unexplainable. He would often speak as if he had witnessed events firsthand. Realizing she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, she said, "Yes, I think I'd better go, Marcus. I'm sorry I don't have the stamina you do. You never seem to tire." She stood and let Marcus guide her to the doors.

With one hand holding the small of her back, Marcus suddenly leaned in and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss that held much promise, but Caterina pulled away. She looked up at her employer, then took a step back, forcing Marcus to remove his hand from her.

"I have to go," she said, and turned to head for the doors. She pulled them open while Marcus watched, dumbfounded. "Felix, take me back to my room." Then she was gone.

Marcus now knew she was not ready for this. He wanted to kick himself for the rashness of his action, but what was the point. The damage to their burgeoning relationship had already been done. Stupid stupid! Now what was he going to do? He closed the doors and retreated to his bedroom.

Caterina arrived at her room, entering with Felix in tow, then shut the door hard. She fell back on her bed, hands over her eyes, and huffing loudly.

Felix sat beside her, seeing something had happened to upset his friend, but what. "So, are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?" he asked grimly.

Caterina sighed, sat up and turned to the tall guard. "He kissed me, Felix. Marcus kissed me!"

"And?"

"I didn't come here to find love, Felix. I came to work off my father's debt, and when I'm done, I'm going home." He looked down at her hands, tightly clasped together and lying on her lap.

"Was it so bad, Caterina?"

"No, it wasn't bad. It was actually quite nice, but I am not staying here, Felix. I can't! I won't."

"Do you like Master Marcus?" the tall guard asked, wondering what, if anything, she felt for him.

"Yes, of course. After he flipped out on me, well, we got past that, and he's been very kind to me since."

Felix held in his laughter. So Master Marcus had "flipped out"? He'd love to have seen that. Marcus' expressions of any kind of emotion were few and far between.

Caterina looked up at Felix. "I like Marcus a lot, but I don't love him."

Felix understood. He also knew what that news would do to Master Marcus. "Oh," was all he could say. He saw Caterina try to remove the bracelet Marcus had given her, but he placed his hand on hers, stopping her.

"Caterina, do you really want to hurt him?" He knew Marcus would notice the bracelet's absence if she removed it.

Letting her fingers fall away from her wrist, she whispered, "No, of course not."

She looked down at his gift, remembering when he had given it to her. She had come to his chambers one evening, when he had asked her if she'd like to take a walk instead of reading. It was dark out, but Caterina inexplicably felt completely safe with Marcus at her side. They strolled the square which was now quiet. The marketplace was devoid of tourists and locals, the stalls empty of their wares. Tomorrow morning, it would be bustling again, but for now, all was calm.

He had stopped her when they came to the square's small fountain, and pulled a square velvet box from his jacket pocket. "I found this earlier today, and wanted to give it to you, Caterina."

She opened the box and gasped to see a gold bracelet set with several sapphires. "Oh, Marcus, it's too much. I can't..."

"Please accept it. A thank you for your company." He took out the bracelet and locked the clasp once he wound it around her wrist.

"It...it's beautiful, Marcus." She'd stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

The memory was one that made her smile, but still, she did not want to stay here.

Leaning against Felix's shoulder, Caterina sighed. "Surely you have heard the rumours people spread about this place. How people enter...and never leave."

Felix frowned, knowing she could not see his face from her current position. "Do you believe those stories?" he asked, curious if she assumed the worst, which was the truth.

"I have never met anyone here, besides you, Marcus, and Demetri. There must be others. It's all very strange. All I know is I want to finish up my obligation and leave. I miss my home. I miss my father. I miss my own bed!"

Felix felt bad for Caterina, knowing Master Marcus wanted her to stay in order to break the witch's spell. But if she wasn't absolutely in love with him, what did it matter. "It will be all right."

Caterina sat up and sighed. "I'm hungry, my friend. Want to walk me to the kitchen? Just for a snack?"

"I thought you were sleepy," Felix said.

"How did you know that?" she asked. "You must have great hearing."

"It's late and I guessed." Felix stood, holding out his hand. "Come along then. I need to find Demetri anyway."

The pair left her room and walked the corridor to the kitchen.

"Want to have something with me?" she asked her friend while she rooted around the refrigerator.

Felix shook his head. "I'm not hungry," he replied.

"You never are," Caterina said with a wink and smile. "It must be those work outs. You probably drink a lot of protein shakes made up of green stuff."

Felix laughed, hoping he hadn't slipped up in any way that would clue her to their true nature. "Enjoy your evening, Caterina. I'll see you tomorrow." With that, the tall guard left her alone in the kitchen, since the short path from the kitchen to her bedroom was safe.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The next day, Caterina had finished her chores and was in her room, reading through one book that was in Italian. It was a travel diary from someone who had visited North America, a place she'd love to visit one day. It detailed various locations in both Canada and America. She fantasized visiting places like New York City and Niagara Falls. Her musings were interrupted when she heard a knock on her door. She set the book down and went to open it, surprised to see Marcus standing before her.

"Good afternoon, Caterina. I was wondering if you would come to have a private supper with me in my rooms this evening. Something a little fancier than what you're used to when eating with the staff. Just the two of us."

"Oh...that would be nice, Marcus, but I don't have anything really nice to wear," Caterina said, wondering if he expected the experience to be like a date. He did seem to perk up when she expressed interest in his suggestion.

"I will get you something to wear, my dear. We have people who can help you." His eyes seemed to light up while talking with her.

Inside, Marcus was more than pleased. He wanted to offer her a fine meal, and perhaps coerce her to dance. He had a device ready with a few musical pieces he hoped would delight her enough to inspire her to want to dance with him. She hadn't mentioned the kiss, so maybe she was not as upset as he'd feared. "Heidi and Chelsea you haven't met yet. They will be around later this evening, so look for them. As for now, I will leave you alone until later."

"Thank you, Marcus. I look forward to it." Caterina felt excited at the invitation. It would be different than their usual get togethers. She closed the door and went into the bathroom to shower and dry her hair until the two women Marcus had mentioned arrived.

Hearing a knock on the door a few hours later, Caterina met Heidi and Chelsea for the first time. Both women were beautiful, with flawless skin and violet-coloured eyes. They introduced themselves, the woman named Chelsea holding up a dress bag, before unzipping it to reveal a lovely full-length blue gown made of lace and chiffon fabrics dotted with sparkles that looked like stars. Once Caterina had donned the dress, Heidi did her make-up while Chelsea later pulled her hair into a loose top knot.

Both women did what they could to encourage Caterina to consider Marcus' favour.

When they finished their work, they smiled at her. "You look perfect. Master Marcus will be so impressed," Chelsea said, Heidi nodding in agreement.

She was given a velvet box containing a pair of sapphire drop earrings that matched the bracelet Marcus had given her. "Are these from Marcus too?" she asked.

Both women looked at one another, then at Caterina, nodding. "He is being very generous with you because he likes you. You are aware of that, aren't you?" Heidi said.

Of course she was aware, but to what extent did he care for her, she wondered while she slipped on the earrings.

Lastly, Caterina stepped into matching blue heels, which fit perfectly. Obviously they had done very well in choosing the right size and style for her. She looked in the full length mirror that sat in the corner of the room, feeling like a princess in such expensive clothing.

"Is this really necessary?" she asked Heidi. "I will never have use for a dress like this at home."

"Master Marcus wants tonight to be special," Chelsea replied.

"Like we're on a date?" Caterina asked, looking behind her in the mirror. She saw Chelsea and Heidi glance at one another again, and knew she was right. This was a date.

There was a knock at the door. Chelsea opened it, stepping aside so Felix could enter the bedroom. She and Heidi gave Caterina encouraging smiles and quietly left.

Felix walked up to the human and took her hands in his. He spread her arms open and gazed at her. Then he spun her around. "You are a vision, Caterina. Master Marcus will think so as well. He's waiting now, so are you ready?" He let her hands go and stepped back, giving her a respectful bow.

"Oh, stop, Felix. You're embarrassing me, but thank you for the compliment. I guess we should leave now."

The guard looped her arm in his, and escorted Caterina to Marcus' rooms, knocking on arrival. Marcus answered and let in the human woman, while telling Felix he didn't have to wait tonight, that he would take his guest back to her room himself.

While Marcus was speaking with Felix, Caterina looked around the ante room, seeing a table beautifully set, complete with lit candles. A cart sat next to the table, where she saw several covered dishes and a bottle of champagne chilling.

She then turned to peek at her host. He was attired in what looked like old-fashioned dress, with black slacks, a white shirt with white ruffles around the neck, and a blue satin waistcoat. The ever-present pendant she'd noticed when she'd first arrived hung around his neck to sit on his chest atop the ruffles. He wore over the shirt a navy blue velvet coat with gold embroidery, making him appear like someone out of an old painting.

Caterina looked down at her gown, realizing anything less elegant would have been inappropriate. Marcus must have known her dress was blue, so dressed accordingly. She bent her head and smiled. Then for effect, she curtsied low before him.

Marcus took her hand and lifted her up from her position on the floor. He felt satisfaction in seeing her smile, cherishing each and every one of them. He had hoped this evening would please her, and he would be able to show her a different side of himself.

Marcus gazed at Caterina, appreciating the choice in dress made by Chelsea and Heidi. The woman looked positively ethereal in the star-lit gown. He noticed she was wearing the sapphire earrings he had ordered for her as well. He thought they suited her well.

He led her to the dining table he had ordered set up in the ante room. "I hope you enjoy tonight, Caterina. The chef has prepared several dishes just for the occasion. Champagne?" Marcus opened the bottle after he pulled her chair out and waited for her to get comfortable. Then he poured a glass of the sparkling liquid. He removed the lids from the food, showing Caterina her menu.

"Pepper Roast with baby potatoes, and green peas with mushrooms." He began to serve her, filling her plate while ignoring his own.

When he sat himself opposite his guest, she spoke. "It all smells so good. Will you be having any?"

"Not tonight. Forgive me, but my constitution means I can't always eat rich foods. But please, have as much as you wish."

Caterina nodded slowly, not surprised. Why, she didn't know. She cut a bit of the beef, and was amazed at the tenderness of the meat. "The chef is so talented. This is wonderful! It's so easy to overcook beef." She took a sip of the champagne, finding it perfectly chilled.

While she ate. the pair discussed the history of the city of Volterra, including how the Volturi came to be here in the first place. By the time she had indulged in more champagne and her dessert of tiramisu, Caterina was feeling both full and in a relaxed humour.

Marcus mentioned that he had found some music, turning on his laptop. He set the saved file he hoped she would be willing to dance to with him. "Would you make me the happiest of men and do me the honour?" He held out his hand to her, feeling her warm hand being placed on his open palm. Leading her to the center of the room, they waited for the music to begin.

"I'm not an expert dancer, Marcus, so you will have to lead well," Caterina cautioned, looking up at the taller man.

"Rest easy, my dear. I'm a long-time expert," he replied, his free arm wrapping around her.

When the music began, Marcus spun Caterina around the room, twirling her beneath his arm, then drawing her against him. He so wanted to kiss her at that moment, but feared her pulling away from him as she had before. They danced as the music carried both from the lives they lived apart to this moment together. Her warmth seeped into his flesh through the fabric of his coat, so sensitive to their physical differences as he was.

Caterina looked up into Marcus' eyes, feeling drawn to him. Her lips parted, her top teeth biting gently into her lower lip. She leaned into his cool body, her heart beating faster.

Marcus not only heard but felt each beat against his chest. He took a gamble and lowered his head, then pressed his lips gently on hers. When she did not pull back, he pressed harder, his lips parting. He tasted her, his arms wrapping more tightly around her trim body. When he finally released her, Marcus stepped back.

"I am sorry, Caterina." He did not continue when two fingers rested on his mouth, silencing him.

"It's alright, Marcus. I'm not offended." She held her body close to his, happy when she felt his arms encircle her, again pulling her against him. His mouth captured hers, drawing in her breath through parted lips.

They continued dancing for almost an hour while talking and laughing together. The music finally stopped, leaving Marcus and Caterina in the middle of the room, staring at one another in silence. That is, until Marcus pulled her to him, embracing her in his arms. He gave her a chaste kiss in her forehead, then when she moved her cheek to his, he lowered his head to kiss her neck with a meaning that was not so chaste. At last, his lips moved to hers once more.

Caterina sighed, the pleasure of his kiss stronger than she had ever felt with anyone, not that there had been that many men in her life.

She lay her head against his chest. "Thank you for this evening," she murmured against his coat. She felt she had to end this now. "I had so much fun. But it is late, and I am a bit tired."

"Of course. Let me return you to your room." Marcus held Caterina's hand and led her from his chambers to her room. He kissed her hand before watching her open her door and turn to look up at him.

"Again, thank you. I had a truly marvelous time, Marcus. I'll see you tomorrow." She stepped back and shut her door.

Marcus felt had his heart been able to beat, it would have been beating fast and hard. Not in centuries had he felt so happy to be with one person. He returned to his rooms, hoping she felt as he did.

Once Caterina had undressed and showered, she hung the beautiful gown up in the wardrobe, and put on her nightgown. She then climbed into bed. A smile unconsciously formed on her face when she thought about the evening. The smile vanished when she considered what she was falling into.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was days later when Caterina was wiping down Marcus' desk and she looked out to the window to see it was snowing. She watched as the large flakes stuck to the grass in the garden. Excited, she quickly finished cleaning up Marcus' room, and after putting away her cleaning supplies, Caterina ran to get her coat to go out into the garden.

Marcus had returned to his room shortly after, and heard sounds of laughter coming from outside, and the garden below. He looked out the window to see Caterina spinning around, her arms wide as she danced in the falling snow. He smiled to himself, and decided to join her. Taking a coat for effect from his wardrobe, he strode the corridor to the garden door and went outside.

Caterina saw Marcus and waved him over. "Marcus, come join me. Isn't it beautiful?"

Marcus agreed in his mind, but he felt it was she who was beautiful, her cheeks pink and eyes shining with sheer joy.

"Have you ever had a snowball fight?" she asked him, attempting to sound innocent. She bent to gather snow in her hands, forming a ball.

When Marcus gave her a questioning look, he felt the unexpected smack of cold snow on his face. His entire body was as cold as the white stuff, but Caterina didn't know that. Marcus did something he had never done before in his existence. He bent down to gather snow in his hands and formed a snowball. He turned to Caterina just as another snowball hit him on the shoulder. He threw his at her, grinning when it hit her on the chest. Her ensuing laughter was like music to his ears.

They played like this for a while before the snow started coming down harder, and Marcus was afraid Caterina would become too chilled. He ordered her inside, and took her to the kitchen for some hot tea. She practically glowed from within while she thanked him for the fun while sipping her tea. He had never seen her so happy, and he hoped she felt it was due to his presence in her life.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Days later, Caterina was cleaning in Marcus' rooms. Once she had finished up, she went up to his desk where Marcus was sitting and working on some papers.

"Marcus, may I call Papa before I leave?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course, my dear." He fetched the phone from his desk drawer and handed it to her. He went to sit on the sofa to wait for her to finish.

Caterina went to sit on the sofa and dialed her home number. Hearing the line pick up, she said, "Hello, Papa! Oh, Signora Rossi. What? Wait, what did you say? Is he badly off? I'll try. Thank you for staying with him. Good bye." She handed Marcus the phone, a frantic look on her face.

Marcus stood, taking her hands in his. "What is it, Caterina? Is something wrong?"

"It's Papa. He's sick. He had been outside too long in the snow trying to get the last of the seasonal crop harvested and he caught a bad cold. One of our neighbors, Signora Rossi, went to take him some eggs from her hens and found him very ill. She said she has been caring for him, but he's asking for me. Please, please, Marcus, may I go home to take care of him?"

Marcus didn't want to let her leave him, but the look in her eyes compelled him to. She would be too worried if he forced her to stay. What would she feel for him if her father died. "Felix can drive you home, my dear."

"Thank you, Marcus," she replied with gratitude in her voice.

"Will you be coming back?" Marcus asked, but she was gone without having heard the question. He hoped she would return, but he determined that if she did not, he would let her know he was allowing her to stay home for good. He felt she had served her time and cleared her father's debt. His love for her enabled him to free her even as he sacrificed his own hopes for redemption.

Felix came to his friend's room to find her packed and waiting. Fortunately, most of the snow had melted by now, and the road was clear at least.

Caterina begged Felix to go faster, but he told her, "There are people in the road, my friend. Don't worry. I will get you home as quickly as possible."

Once they reached her house, pulling into the driveway, she jumped out of the car and headed for the front door. When she opened the door, Felix set her bags just inside the entrance. Caterina thanked him, giving him a quick hug. Once he saw she had safely entered the house, he drove away.

"Papa! Papa, I'm home!" she shouted, dropping her coat on a nearby chair.

"Shhh, child, he's sleeping," an older woman whispered, appearing from the kitchen.

"Signora Rossi, how is he?"

"He's better, my dear." She explained what the doctor had said, and gave Caterina instructions for the medicine she was to give her father. "Now you get re-settled. Since you're here, I'll leave, but do call me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Signora Rossi, for everything," Caterina said, letting the woman out.

She went to her father's bedroom to see him lying in bed, sleeping peacefully. She felt his forehead, finding it only slightly warm to the touch. She took the small pitcher of water to the kitchen to refill it with fresh water, and waited for him to wake up.

When he did awaken, he was overjoyed to see his daughter sitting on a chair next to the bed.

"Caterina, daughter, you've returned," he said, taking ahold of her hands.

"Yes, Papa. Marcus let me leave when I found out from Signora Rossi you were sick. I'm home to take care of you."

And she did, making him porridge for breakfast and soup for later in the day. She told him all about her time at the castle, and how things had slowly changed between her and Marcus. She had left so quickly, she had forgotten the dress, shoes, and jewelry he had given her.

"Have you feelings for the man, daughter?"

"I don't know, Papa. I know I care about him, and he was kinder to me the longer I was there. It changed things, you understand."

"Caterina, Guiseppe had been here, asking about you. He was not happy that you were staying at the castle. I only hoped he didn't make trouble for you."

"I never saw him, Papa. I pray he does not go there. The people who live there are...they're strange. Not that I was afraid of them, but there is something...well, I hope he stays away. I'm home now, so he has no reason to go there." She patted her father's hand and rose from the chair. "I'm going to get you some soup now."

While she ladled the hot meal into a bowl, Caterina wondered if she should warn Marcus. No, Guiseppe would not be so foolish, surely not.

After a few days of care, Mario Cassiani recovered from his illness and was eager to be up and about. He pulled himself out of bed and walked to the kitchen. Still a bit weak, he took his time and entered the kitchen to see Caterina cutting up vegetables for supper.

When Caterina saw her father, she frowned. "Papa, you need to stay in bed..."

"Child, I am fine and going crazy. You'll see. I'll take a quick shower and dress. By the way, Guiseppe doesn't know you're home. He wanted to go to the castle to retrieve you. If he goes there with others, who knows what will happen. Perhaps you should call him."

Setting down the knife, Caterina looked at her father. "I'm not ready to talk with Guiseppe, Papa. Did he say he would go there?"

"Call him, Caterina."

Sighing, she picked up the receiver and dialed his number. When he answered, she said, "Guiseppe, this is Caterina, I..." A man's voice spoke.

"Caterina, this is Guiseppe's father. He is on his way to the Palazzo dei Priori with some of the other villagers. They're planning to..."

"No! They can't do that!" Hanging up, she turned to her father.

"Papa, that fool is on his way to the castle. I have to stop him. They might hurt Marcus."

"Take the truck. The back way is faster on the county road."

"Yes, yes, and it leads to the garden gate behind the castle. I can get in through the garden gate, and find Marcus without the crowd seeing me." She gave her father a kiss and turned to leave. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Papa."

"Be careful, Caterina," her father called out as she left the house.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

A small group of male villagers, led by Guiseppe, headed for the castle. Armed with rifles, guns, even farm equipment, they followed the man who was determinded to bring Caterina home with him, even if it meant killing the residents of the castle.

Driving over the speed limit, Caterina mumbled the entire way. "Idiots! How can you follow a man like Guiseppe. Stupid!"

When she came to the back gate that led to the garden, she prayed it wasn't locked, and sighed in relief when the gate swung open. She ran into the castle through the side door and headed to Marcus' rooms.

On arrival, she went from the ante-room to the bedroom and didn't find him. She left his rooms and was heading down the main corridor, when she heard shouting and the sounds of gunfire. In the large audience hall she rarely saw, she noticed a small crowd of men fighting what she assumed were Marcus' family. Then she saw Marcus himself, fighting Guiseppe.

Guiseppe was holding an axe. He aimed for Marcus' neck, swinging it hard until it hit flesh. The impact left cracks on Marcus' neck, but the vampire was able to knock aside the axe and grabbed the human by the throat. He opened his mouth and leaned in to bite Guiseppe in the throat, his teeth tearing into the warm flesh.

Caterina saw Guiseppe attack Marcus, shouted "No!", then gasped loud enough for Marcus to hear. He turned around to face the woman he loved, knowing she was finally seeing him for the monster he was. Blood was smeared on his mouth, and he let his human attacker fall to the floor.

Her eyes wide, Caterina ran to Marcus, kneeling beside him. "Are you hurt? Marcus, are you hurt in any way?"

"I'm sorry," he said to the young woman next to him. I'm fine, but I..." He felt warm arms move around him, hugging him ever as she searched him for wounds.

"Oh, Marcus, when I heard what was going on, I had to stop Guiseppe." She looked at the man who was her captor, her employer, her admirer. "I had to...I love you, Marcus. No matter what has happened, I do love you. I was so afraid you'd be hurt."

Standing, Marcus pulled Caterina up off the floor. "You see me for what I am, my dear heart. A killer. A vampire." He wiped his mouth with his sleeve while Caterina only stared at him. She noticed his eyes, now red, but how.

"I don't care." She meant it. If he was really a vampire, an honest to goodness creature of legend, she didn't care. He was safe. She looked around her, and saw several bodies lying in the room. She should be mourning them, but it was their choice to follow that brute Guiseppe. The other Volturi, a few she knew, others she didn't, stood around as if waiting for orders.

Caterina had seen the blood on Marcus' lips as it dripped down his chin. What he had told her was true. He really was a vampire, and he had killed Guiseppe. She saw two men walk down the steps leading from three throne-like chairs.

Just then, a bright light blazed briefly in the center of the room, before revealing a beautiful woman standing in the middle of the audience hall.

Aro and Caius frowned at the sudden intrusion, but Marcus recognized her instantly.

"Marcus dei Volturi, you fulfilled the requirement of your redemption," the witch said. She seemingly floated over to Marcus and Caterina. "Child, you love this man?"

Gazing at the beautiful woman, she frowned. "Of course I do. With all my heart." She felt Marcus' holding her hand tightly.

"Then Marcus dei Volturi, you may choose to regain your humanity, and be mortal again. Or you may remain a vampire, and change your beloved to become an immortal like you."

Marcus held Caterina by the shoulders as he gazed into her warm brown eyes. "It means aging. But it also means a home, family, children. Things you won't have here if you're a vampire." He gave Caterina a kiss, and sought the answer to his question in her eyes.

"No children?" If Marcus was letting her choose, the answer was simple. "Marcus, I want to be with you, in my world, in my life. We can live together and watch our family grow while we grow old, together."

Marcus glanced over at Aro and Caius. Aro knew Marcus hadn't been happy, but Caterina had changed that. He nodded at his brother.

The witch held her hands up and began to chant a spell. Marcus felt a sudden and excruciating pain in his entire body, and fell to the floor.

Caterina started to go to him, but Felix held her by the arms, saying, "Wait. This is something Master Marcus has to endure. Let's see what happens."

Marcus writhed on the floor, pain written on his face while he tried not to scream.

Caterina struggled against Felix's grip on her arms. "Let me go!" she demanded. Reluctantly, Felix complied, letting her loose. Once free, she ran to Marcus, dropping down next to him.

"Marcus, I'm here with you, my love. Please don't leave me now." She held his hand with both of hers, squeezing tightly. She was tempted to pull back when she saw a curtain of light form around Marcus, but she decided to hold on. With tears in her eyes, Caterina glanced up at the witch, who only smiled down at the pair.

When the glow receded, Marcus caught his breath. The pain had finally stopped. Caterina helped him to sit up, checking him over, but seeing no physical damage. She did notice the changes in his body immediately however.

"Marcus, your eyes, they're brown." She realized the hand she still held was warm to the touch. She reached out and caressed his cheek to find it was also warm. They were not pale either, but pick with the flush of blood in his veins. "If you're physical changes mean anything, you...you're human. It worked." She wiped the tears from her face and helped Marcus up off the floor, the pair turning to one another and hugging each other in joy.

Marcus cupped Caterina's cheek and kissed her deeply. He felt different and knew he was no longer a vampire. He was human again, after so many hundreds of years and it felt more than strange. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, the sensation foreign to him.

A bright light filled the room, and the witch vanished.

Caius ordered the guards to clean up the room and dispose of the bodies. He had some damage control to work on, and began that task.

Aro stood off to the side, but took several steps towards Marcus, placing his hand on the taller vampire's shoulder. "You will always be my brother...our brother. You may still stay here with Caterina. Or you may leave to travel the world. We leave that up to you both." When he saw the surprise on Marcus' face, he huffed. "I know, I know, the rules, but I can make exceptions when I want. And I'm making an exception now. I don't expect you will tell anyone about us, and as your mate, I can assume Caterina won't either." He smiled when he saw her shake her head vigorously.

"Aro, we will let you know. If we choose to leave and return later, it's good to know we will be welcome." He turned to his mate, for that was what she was now. "We will marry the old fashioned way, if that makes you happy, my love."

"Ah, a wedding. I do love weddings, so you must have it here at the castle," Aro said with excitement.

Caterina responded with a nod of acknowledgement, grateful for their attitude and now the offer of a wedding. This was Marcus' home and she didn't mind it becoming hers. She would be able to visit her father, who would not have to pay for the cost of her wedding. When she had mentioned that to Marcus, his eyes glowed with happiness as he laughed pleasantly.

Caterina decided as long as her human guests were guaranteed their safety, why not have it here. Perhaps it would help dispel the nasty rumours if her family and friends were allowed to attend. They would see there was nothing to fear from the castle's residents after all.

Later, Marcus led his bride-to-be out to the garden, where they stood in the gazebo, Caterina's hands holding onto Marcus' arm. He noticed she seemed relaxed, which shocked him the most, and not freaking out about what she had seen today.

"You truly surprised me, my dear. I never imagined you to be so strong, and here I was so worried about you." Marcus leaned over to give his mate a kiss on her forehead.

Caterina smiled, and nodded, replying, "I never imagined I would have to be. You don't have any other secrets, do you?"

"No, my heart, you know everything. From now on, I am only a mortal man who loves you." Marcus leaned into Caterina and kissed her deeply, his arms around her securely. Her warmth was less noticeable now that they were the same body temperature. "I love you," he said with emotion in his voice.

"And I love you, Marcus, for always." Caterina hugged her husband-to-be tightly, knowing their life together would never be boring.

A/N : Sorry it took so long to finish this particular story. Lately, I just haven't felt much like writing. I'll go back over it later to fix any errors. Thanks for your patience.

#volturi fanfiction #the volturi #marcus volturi #felix volturi #aro volturi #beauty and the beast #caius volturi #Chelsea Volturi #Heidi Volturi

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