#I won’t handle him or offer food for a week or so | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nyarumie · 6 months ago

Note

hii dropping by to say i love your works sm !! since you mentioned abt narumi requests, id like to make one :3

how aboutt narumi randomly feeling hungry during his game night and when he goes to find food he sees reader! so they end up making/getting food tgt all domestic and fluffy (if you’re cooking bro is definitely not thinking abt wifing u up uhhhh), feel free to create any setting you’d like for the scenario hihi

(also this might or might not be an excuse for me to ask u to become moots aha)

Food Impact! (Oneshot)

narumi gen x reader — pure fluff, more fluff, and even more fluff! sweet and gentle narumi, established relationship, the kitchen staff are eavesdropping on them, spoiler alert: they made a mess in the kitchen.

Author's Note: Readers, please search up the food name references I included here to get the entire picture of what they're trying to make <3

Author's Reply: hi, rye! I think we're already mutuals (at least, it's what my notif bar says? i know im already following u tho! i love your works too <3 it inspired me to write and post too, to be honest) thank you for this request i totally had fun writing it and helped me with my writer's block (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ id love to interact more too!

Cross-posted on ao3. Ask box is open, and masterlist can be found on my pinned. Have fun reading, everyone!

The sight that greeted Hasegawa has an unusual factor.

Stacked yamazon boxes, check.

Littered cans and bottles, check.

Neglected blankets and pillows, check.

An unbothered Captain on his futon playing his BS5, gone.

Or maybe he's just being dramatic. Narumi is actually there, albeit not stuck in front of his huge ass TV for once. Rather, he's shockingly seated behind his office table, adorning a serious expression while giving his laptop an intense focus.

His Vice Captain is rendered speechless. Was he seeing things? The First Division’s Captain… is actually doing work?

“Hasegawa. What is it? I’m busy here.” he said, hands busy on his laptop.

Oh, he's been staring at him for the past 5 minutes, mouth agape. Regaining his composure, he stated his business. “Your presence is requested for an interview. I believe I sent you the notice first thing in the morning.” But is it right to be disturbing him when he’s finally working—a rarer than once in a blue moon occasion?

“Requested, not required. Don't care, won't care.”

“...Then I’ll ask her to do it in your stead.”

“Don't. She's helping me with my work.”

Sighing, Hasegawa turned around to leave, surprisingly not picking Narumi up like a helpless cat to make him attend the interview.

Once Narumi heard the door click, the corner of his lips turned up, unable to stop the smug, triumphant grin from forming. “Hah, too easy! I’m busy working alright, my ass is practically burning from sitting here all day!”

In truth, the laptop Narumi specifically requested when he was promoted as Captain is a gaming laptop. He had somehow convinced the higher ups that its specifications are far greater than anything most officers can handle and is fitting for his position as Captain. Not that they know what it really is, of course.

He has been playing Jenshin Ympact the moment his office shift started. You had practically begged him yesterday to grind for you, saying that you’ll handle his paperworks worth a week’s job as long as he gets your desired character and weapon. “Why won’t she just top-up on this game? We have all the money to get every single character. What a bummer.”

Not that he understands why you’re willing to shoulder his paperworks over playing a game. Nothing’s enjoyable about paperworks at all! But you complained that your back was hurting from grinding, and who was he to reject such a good offer? That means a grumpy Hasegawa would appear less on his doorstep.

Complaints can be heard from him as he speedruns a side quest, mumbling about how the NPCs are too helpless. “What the… why do most NPCs ask for food here? What kind of adventurer doesn’t bring any food with them?”

Karma seemed to have hit him, his stomach growling too loud for his liking.

Ignoring it, he continued, still insulting every single unimportant character here and there. “Boo. Shut up. Don't like you. Go away. I hope you get eaten by a slime—”

And an even angrier sound came from his stomach.

“Fine! I’ll grab something to eat.”

What he meant by grab something to eat, is grab you to get the both of you something to eat. He refuses to eat anything without you, finding it more enjoyable doing mundane things with you around. His stomach has been empty since morning, wanting to get an early start on his grind.

He sulkily made his way towards your own room, knowing that you've been just as cooped up as him in your respective offices.

Not bothering to knock, he calmly opened the door, instantly finding you still working on his paperworks, desk situated across your door.

His familiar presence caught your attention, eyes lighting up in joy at the sight of him. “Gen! What brings you here? Do you need anything?”

Without a word, he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you up, making you drop your pen in the process.

Confused, you tried calling him again. “Gen?”

“Mhm… heard you. Just come with me.”

“Alright.” You smiled, his uncharacteristically calm demeanor endearing you. He was often like this with you, as if your very existence is his source of peace.

A comfortable silence lingered as you let him lead you to his your destination. Halfway there, you finally recognized the route to the cafeteria.

‘Oh, he's just hungry.’ you thought. ‘But wouldn't he prefer instant meals or deliveries instead of going all the way here?’

But instead of going straight to the self-service counter, he turned and made his way to the kitchen instead. Wait, are you even allowed there? Sure, he's the Captain, but he's not a cook!

He finally let go of your wrist, unceremoniously opening the large door, earning shocked stares from the kitchen staff and making them pause their job.

You pulled at his sleeve. “Gen—”

“Is there an available cooking station here?” he asked.

The staff looked at each other, obviously baffled. “Uhm, Captain Narumi, sir; there is. But it's at the far end of the Kitchen…” a cook said, pointing towards the station.

“Good. We’ll be using it undisturbed.”

Gen continued making his way forward, with you holding the cuff of his sleeve to ease your nerves. You offered an apologetic look at every person you made eye contact with as you both made your way through. He still hasn't said anything as to why you're here of all places, confusing you further.

He came to an abrupt stop once you reached ‘your’ station. It's time to get to the bottom of this.

“Gen, did you say we'll be using this cooking station? Are we actually cooking?”

He faced you, his arms crossing. Suddenly, he looked a bit bashful. “Yeah. That's what I said.”

Raising your brow, you tried prying more information from him. “And what exactly are we gonna cook?”

“Ahem. So I saw this food while playing Jenshin Ympact…” He pulled out his phone, showing you a screenshot of the food.

Invigorating Kitty Meal.

Giggles threatened to spill from your lips. No wonder he wants to make it yourselves.

He swiped the photo to another screenshot. “And there's this other one. You love mushrooms, I thought you'd want something simple to eat.” Milky Mushroom Crisp Tower. How cute, he was also thinking of you!

“They look pretty fun and easy to make. However… Both of us don't know how to cook, Gen.” you frowned.

“But you just said it looks easy to make. There's two of us, that should be good enough, yeah?” he pouted.

Fondly, you sighed. He’s being too adorable right now, you just can't say no to him. “Alright, we’ll try. If it turns out good, you’ll marry me, won't you?” you joked.

He brightened up at this, pushing his hair back, determined to make his kitty meal. “Consider it done.”

After thoroughly examining the screenshots, you personally approached a few people stationed in the kitchen, asking them which ingredients would best suit your planned meal. With a couple of pieces of advice here and there, you and Gen started to put the plan in motion.

He passes you a rather large bowl full of rice, busying yourself with shaping it to form a cat, filling its inside with mayo tuna. He tasked himself with (trying) to cook the steak while watching the eggs boil, which you doubted at first, earning you a complain from him (‘Hey! You're on the same boat as I am; can't cook, can't question!’)

Cooking the steak is quite the task, so you decided to handle your mushroom toast yourself.

You poorly sliced up the mushroom and tossed it in a small pot filled with a cup of thick cream and easily melted cheese. Not hard at all!

You leave it be and checked on Gen, who you find struggling with not burning the steak. “Need help?”

“I’m fine! It's just that this is totally not beginner friendly, that's all!”

“...Gen, the eggs are overcooked.” A series of curses left his mouth as he hurriedly took them off the boiling water, and his nose scrunched up on the smell of something burning.

“Your mushroom! The heat is turned all the way up!” Now it was your turn to panic.

After a couple of errors from both your ends, it was safe to say that you've finally reached the final task of your newly found skill.

You were carefully carving some seaweed, cheese, and ham as the final touches to his rice kitty’s facial features. Gen was standing behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he watched your art, humming to himself. He seemed pleased despite the mess you both made.

“Let's cook again someday.” he said.

You snort, “Speaking too soon? You won't say that if this turns out bad.”

“Nahh. Not if I’ll marry you.”

You laugh, taking it as a joke. You feel him perch his head on your shoulder, face turning into a frown. “I wasn't joking! Here, have this.”

He took your hand, putting a seaweed ring on your finger. You giggled again, your heart can't take him sometimes. “I didn't mean to laugh at you. You're being too adorable today! Let's eat these right here before they spoil.”

He looked too sad to see the kitty get devoured, sulking despite how good it surprisingly tasted. And yours wasn't too bad either, glad that you were able to salvage whatever was left from the burnt mushroom sauce.

“ ‘M definitely gonna marry you someday.” he suddenly said.

Your head whipped towards him so fast, only to find him munching on his meal, face serious. “Food so good it got you saying that again?”

He shook his head. “Don't you want me as your husband?” he whined.

You felt your face flush, suddenly aware that he meant what he said. “Go put on a real ring on me first. Then I'll take you as my husband.” you teased.

Looking thoughtful, he hummed. “I can wait just fine. It arrives tomorrow.”

Wait. What?

“What arrives… tomorrow?”

“The ring.” he said, matter-of-factly.

You faced him fully, mouth wide open. He’s dropping this information way too casually!

Sensing your stare, he also turned to look at you, food still in hand. “What? If you're worried about the size, I got it covered.”

“You're crazy. When did you purchase it?”

“Hmm… a couple of weeks ago. When I heard you scolding Hasegawa for disturbing me, saying I needed rest for carrying No. 1’s eyes on a daily basis. No one dares to scold him like that! So I decided to promote you as my wife!” he proudly said.

You tug at the front of his clothes, pulling him closer. “I want to kiss you right now.”

He set his food down, placing his hands on your waist. His eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth. “Then, as the Captain of the First Division, I grant you special permission to kiss me.”

And with that, you closed the distance between you, feeling the both of you smile in your kiss.

Bonus:

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the kitchen staff were eavesdropping the entire time. Who would’ve thought that this is how good their Captain's romantic life is?

You two were so absorbed in your own little bubble, failing to notice the suppressed squeal from a staff that was tasked to spy on you when you kissed. Seems like you forgot there were other people around you.

The staff went back to the others, meeting their expectant gazes. Wordlessly, they gestured their ring finger and acted out a kiss. It was comical, but the message was well-received nonetheless. It became an unspoken rule to keep what happened that night amongst themselves, wanting to respect your and the Captain's joyous moment.

#kaiju no. 8 #axia writes for fun #kn8 x reader #kn8 writing #gen narumi #kaiju number 8 #narumi gen x reader #narumi fluff #narumi x reader #narumi gen #narumi gen fluff

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szyvrue · 1 month ago

Text

GREEN EGGS AND HAM, miya osamu.

( 10.6k ) tropes ── meet messy(ish?) to lovers speedrun, baker x chef, mistletoe kisses, scheming friends.

wdym this is over twelve hours late ... happy holidays, @tulip-room! i hope the inflated word count makes up for the late submission. getting to know you through the server has been a gift and i really hope you enjoy the fic <3 this was written for @lale-txt's secret santa, thank you sm for organising this lale x

credits to @/nectardaddy for the divider.

The holidays is, par the course, a time of great stress for you: as the designated Christmas host, December finds itself packed full of activities, lists, organisation, recipe testing—this year is no different. When you really think about it, organising Christmas with friends is no different from organising one with a family that halfway hates each other. Two of your friends are unreliable and RSVP two days after the last possible date; one will have his answer in by the day and have weekly check-ins to see how things are going and readily offer you a list of allergies or foods to avoid; one almost accidentally invites half of his contact list, which stretches longer than it has any right to; two (not naming names) decide to ruin all your plans two weeks before Christmas.

Oh, whatever. You’re naming them. Hinata Shouyou and Miya Atsumu. See, you’ve spent the first two weeks of December planning. You have had everyone RSVP, you underwent the arduous task of finding out dietary requirements (have you ever had to figure out a Christmas meal plan when the invitees have the diets of professional athletes and you consider dessert the core of a Christmas meal?), you’ve already mostly decorated your apartment, you’ve made a comprehensive meal plan. You’ve practically organised everything down to the minute. And what do those two do, in the face of your extensive planning?

They spit in your face, that’s what.

“We’re really sorry,” Hinata says, at least having the sense to look sheepish. “We didn’t mean to double book.”

“It just kinda happened,” Atsumu agrees, looking far less repentant. He just has a criminally guilty face like that. “We know it’s a lot to spring on you so close to the date, but seriously, Samu’s a great chef. He won’t make it hard on you.”

“How do you accidentally overbook on Christmas?” You hiss, half offended and half baffled. “Seriously? You couldn’t have told me this earlier? Why not just invite him along? I can accommodate an extra guest, but a co-host?”

The boys exchange a glance. Atsumu is the one to speak. “Well, we didn’t want ta make one of you feel bad but asking you to, uh, give up your hard work. And you guys’ll get along great! He’s really…”

“Friendly!” Hinata pipes up, nodding aggressively. “He’s a chef, too—did we say that yet?—so he can help you with the food. And he probably won’t mind. And he’s conscientious. And—”

“Stop trying to pitch this guy to me,” you groan. You bury your head in your hands, taking a moment to breathe. Okay, okay. You’re flexible. You’re accommodating. You can handle this. Why can’t you just host Christmas, though? Miya Osamu may be a chef, but as a baker you’re far from a hazard in the kitchen. Anyone that’s had your Christmas pudding practically fights to get you back in there. And what about his Christmas guest list? How much more food do you have to make? How many guests do you have to host? Will he want to take over dinner now? What about—

“We’re really sorry.” Hinata leans over the counter, gripping your hand between his own. “We know this is short notice. I really think you’ll get along with Osamu though, and there shouldn’t be too many adjustments. There’s, like, a two person invite difference. You have really overlapping guest lists.”

Your lips purse. Hate to admit it, you already know what your response is going to be.

II.

you: hey, is this miya osamu? you: hinata & atsumu gave me your number for christmas you: are you free anytime so we can discuss plans? sent 11:16am

miya osamu (christmas): yeah this is osamu miya osamu (christmas): sorry for the late response i was at work miya osamu (christmas): i can meet during my lunch break tomorrow miya osamu (christmas): or the weekend if you’re unavailable then sent 7:33pm

you: your lunch break sounds good! you: when around would that be? sent 7:45pm

miya osamu (christmas): about 1:30 miya osamu (christmas): onigiri miya miya osamu (christmas): just come up to the register and ask for me sent 7:47pm

you: alright, i’ll see you then sent 7:58pm

miya osamu (christmas): 👍 sent 7:59pm

III.

So. You meet Miya Osamu.

It’s 1:27pm when you venture into Onigiri Miya, which you Google Reviews prior to get a gauge for the place. A 4.9 star aggregate rating (impressive numbers) with what is alleged to be an affordable menu. If you’re taking it at face value, which you are, it looks like the kind of place you’d visit on your own.

You’re fiddling awkwardly with your bag—which contains a written version of all your plans alongside your usual essentials—when you enter the store, eyes scanning over the crowd as if Miya Osamu himself will pop up with a sign around his neck. He doesn’t, because you’re at his place of work and not an airport.

Settling into line, you peer at the menu and debate whether you should buy something during your meal or just sit there and talk things through with Atsumu’s wayward twin. Or would Atsumu be the wayward twin, given his proclivity to ill-thought ideas? He was the one to suggest you merge Christmas with his unknown brother, and even if you’re the soulmates Atsumu alleges (or the perfect personality match Hinata declared) you doubt you’re both going to magically have the exact same plans. God, what if he’s allergic to, like, flour? That’d wipe out half your menu.

It doesn’t take long to reach the front of the line. “Hello,” you say to the worker behind the counter, lips curving into an awkward smile. “I’m, uh, here for Miya Osamu?” You offer them your name afterwards, just in case they were told to recognise you by it. There’s a moment's pause as the worker disappears towards the kitchen, followed shortly by the appearance of, you guessed it, Miya Osamu.

You’re not sure why you’re surprised to see Atsumu’s face copy-pasted on his identical twin brother, but it still shocks you for a second. Maybe it’s the difference in expression, relaxed and vaguely tired to his eccentric brother’s more proud visage; maybe the silver in place of gold, or the opposite parting, or the fact he’s wearing an apron while working in hospitality. You wouldn’t catch Atsumu dead in customer service.

He says your name, as if confirming that you are who you say you are. When you dip your head in a nod, he offers you a hand. “Nice to meet you. Tsumu doesn’t shut up about you.”

You try to think up a smart response. Something like ha, as if he’s much better when it comes to you or I’ve heard plenty about the enigmatic twin brother myself, but both feel flat. And false. You take his hand, shake it briefly, and quickly return your hand to the strap of your bag.

A pause. “Well, d’ya wanna sit inside?”

“Ah, sure.” You offer him a smile. “I’ll follow your lead?”

“Yeah.” He ignores your awkwardness, rolling his shoulders as if he’s physically letting your cumbrous attempts at responding to him slide off his back like water to a babbling brook. “You getting yourself anything? On the house, for the inconvenience.”

“If you don’t mind.” You rattle off a request for a snack, before being quietly led to one of the booths near the back of the shop. Miya Osamu (is just Osamu okay?) sits first and you follow, the chair scraping as you sit. You wince. “So, uh.”

“I’m really sorry for Atsumu,” he starts out of the gate, which is better than you were expecting—he does share a bloodline with Atsumu, after all. “I wasn’t exactly ecstatic hearing the news either, even if we’ve got a few weeks to sort things out.”

‘A few weeks’, you mouth. You’ve got two. Less than that, really. Twelve days. Your Christmas cake has been in the cupboard since August, feeding off of your fortnightly soaking in brandy. You’ve probably been planning for Christmas since the moment the day ticked over to November 1st. “Right. I was wondering—since we’re merging Christmas, how many more guests do we need to accommodate…?”

“Well, uh, I’m not sure who you have coming ‘round—”

“Oh, I wrote out a list.” You shuffle around in your bag for a second, pulling out the stapled collection of paper. “Sorry, I printed out a copy of everything so you’d be able to read through it. Or bring it home, if you needed to. I don’t know how long your break runs.”

“I can take a minute.” He says off-handedly, taking the paper from you with wide eyes. As he reads it over, you take an opportunity to bite into your food. “Huh. Sakusa must love you.” He glimpses over it. “You’ve even got dietary restrictions? You're an angel.”

You swallow your mouthful. It really is delicious. Atsumu wasn’t underselling his prowess. “I’m a baker,” you offer, “and also preparing the meals. Or, well, was? I figured it was important.”

He hums. “Looks like we’ve got kinda similar lists. You’re just missing Suna, Aran—friends from high school—and Ma.”

“Ma,” you say surreptitiously, “your Mom? Oh my.”

Osamu glances at you before snorting. “I don’t know what horror stories Tsumu’s been telling you, but she’s great. He’s just dramatic, he practically worships the ground she walks on on. Not that she doesn’t deserve it.”

“That’s part of what’s intimidating about it,” you groan. “Still, three more people isn’t bad. I was expecting a lot more.”

“You’ve got more people than I do to begin with. Yer inviting Tsumu’s whole team? Rowdy bunch, aren’t they?”

You shrug. “I only moved here a few months ago, so when Hinata took me in I wasn’t exactly resistant. I figured it was only polite, and half of them declined to visit family instead.”

He nods. “The shop should be able to hold eleven. Should I clear a section of the fridge for your stuff or do you want to bring it in on the day?”

“I was hoping we could still do it at my place,” you say tentatively, “I’ve got the apartment set up for Christmas, and you know the atmosphere half makes the holiday.”

“Onigiri Miya has an industrial kitchen,” he replies, “and a proper oven for cooking the ham—”

“The ham?” You stare. “I mean, if we want something, we could just grab some from the deli—”

“The deli? What deli serves Christmas ham?”

“Well, it’s not like it’s gonna be a roast?

“Not gonna be a roast?” Osamu stares at you, slack-jawed. “Whatdya just say to me?”

“Do you usually have roasts for Christmas?” You ask.

He blinks at you. Blinks again. His lips twitch downwards, and oh God, this stranger with Atsumu’s face genuinely looks troubled. It barely takes him a second to flip through your paper, eyes landing on the menu with the dawning horror of a man being served his third divorce. “You’re kidding me. This is a snack platter.”

“Not really,” you defend, “I mean, we’ll be opening gifts, and socialising is important—dinner usually lasts a few hours on Christmas, we can’t have everyone filling up within twenty minutes. Besides, what about dessert? Everyone knows dessert is the main meal—”

“The main meal?” He squawks. “What rock have you been living under? Filled up in twenty minutes? Opening gifts with the food? You have to be joking. You’ll be sending guests home with an empty stomach!”

“It’s not like I’m going to put out a charcuterie board and call it a day! It’s just about smaller portions so people can sample more food and snack for longer.” You take another bite of your onigiri. It’s so good, which just makes it worse when Miya Osamu is so wrong.

“Christmas is the one time of year you’re able to gorge yourself sick during dinner and you’re subjecting your guests to deli ham and pastries?”

“Are you even reading the menu?” You ask, exasperated. “What would you do then? A roast ham, where everyone will be stuffed three slices in? A rotisserie chicken on the side? Because that doesn’t offer many choices. Forget an unfulfilled meal, that’d be boring.”

He gapes at you. “Look, a couple snacks as a pre-dinner meal while the ham is cooking is all fine and dandy, but as the whole meal? ‘Sides, presents are during snack time. You’ve got everything backwards.”

“What about dessert then? I mean, what’s the point of a Christmas cake—which I started in August, mind you—when no one’s got room for it? What about the custard? The pudding? The treats?”

“The dessert is complementary to a good dinner. Of course the desserts gonna feel like a showstopper if all people have had up till that point is crackers and dip—”

“Crackers and dip? Seriously?”

“Look, I said I’m all for snacks while dinner is still cooking, but this is just—”

Things don’t go well.

IV.

“Hey,” Atsumu says the next time you see each other, “how’d you and ‘Samu get on? Do I need to start planning a wedding?”

“A wedding?” You scoff. “Please. You could pair that man with a soggy napkin and the napkin wouldn’t last 30 minutes before considering complete dissolution.”

“Oh.” He looks at you for a second. “You know, most people think I’m the annoying twin.”

“They’ve clearly never met the idiot that calls itself your brother.”

“...Right.” Atsumu doesn’t look as happy as he normally would be when someone calls him the favourite twin—which really is a monumental occurrence—but rather like he’d just tripped on his laces and face planted into the sidewalk. “So, you’re not friends yet?”

“Oh, no, we’re perfectly friendly.” You say bitterly. “Absolutely wonderful. You know, he doesn’t think dessert makes a Christmas dinner? He has the idiotic idea in his head that the ham makes the meal! Can you believe that? Everyone knows the Christmas pudding makes or breaks the holiday, you’d think a chef would have more respect for—”

“Oh,” Atsumu says weakly, “right.”

You take some time to cool off. This is indubitably a good idea. Within an hour, you come to a relatively simple resolution: it’s not that big of a deal. Well, it is, but even then you were overreacting. A bit exaggerative, maybe. You’re not really that angry, even if the both of you were bitchier than you had any right to be.

Maybe he’s right about the roast? Just because it’s not normal for you, doesn’t mean it’s not normal for anyone else. He is a chef. He could’ve been nicer on the desserts, though—what did your apple pie do to deserve that kind of vitriol?

You text Atsumu an apology for the rant. You were in the wrong for that, even if you’re not quite ready to apologise to his brother for acting out. You’ll sleep on it. Maybe the morning will come with the proper words and fully extinguished anger.

As you find out the next morning, you don’t have to send the first message.

miya osamu (christmas): hey miya osamu (christmas): i’m sorry abt how our talk went miya osamu (christmas): we clearly have different ideas of a christmas meal & i shouldntve blown up at you like that sent 6:13am

you: hi sorry, i just woke up you: honestly, you weren’t the only person overreacting. i’m really sorry about how poorly i acted you: i honestly don’t mind your roast idea you: i’m really sorry you: i’m honestly really embarrassed about how i acted sent 8:39am

miya osamu (christmas): dw miya osamu (christmas): i wasn’t exactly an angel miya osamu (christmas): ill be honest i still don’t get the want for smaller servings over a hearty meal miya osamu (christmas): but its not gonna kill me to try something new sent 1:31pm

you: actually i was thinking you: since you’re a chef, you probably have a better idea of what’d make a good christmas dinner you: so if you really want to go the roast route, i’m not going to complain you: i will admit that i really would prefer to have christmas at my place though! sent 1:35pm

miya osamu (christmas): i can work around that miya osamu (christmas): only issue is i’d have to transfer meal prep/food throughout the week sent 1:37pm

you: i’m okay with that you: should i send you my address? i was thinking maybe we could meet in person and work out a menu that works for both of us you: and you can take a look at my kitchen to see if it’ll be an okay substitute to your industrial kitchen sent 1:42pm

miya osamu (christmas): sounds good miya osamu (christmas): when are you free? sent 1:43pm

VI.

The second Osamu sees Atsumu coming, he struggles to suppress a groan. He loves Atsumu, he does, but there’s only one thing the guy will want to talk about right now: Christmas. Osamu’s more than happy to be hosting it—their Ma’s been in charge since they were born all the way up to Osamu opening Onigiri Miya, and he’s happy to take over the holiday and let her just enjoy the holiday. That being said, a last minute co-host wasn’t in the cards. At all.

He’s heard your name enough to feel like you should be best buds, given how much Atsumu refuses to shut up about you. He’s never been subtle in his foray into matchmaking, but this? This takes the cake. It doesn’t matter how much c’mon Samu, you’ll love them! or ya know, this friend of mine loves this too or I should invite them ‘round sometime, dontcha think? Atsumu tries to ply him with, there’s no world in which this would happen and you’d both be fine with it. If you’ve heard half as much about him as he has you (which he’s pretty sure you haven’t, given the dumpster fire that was your first meeting) then you’d be just as aware that Christmas planning would probably get a bit messy at first.

Barring the major issue of you valuing dessert over dinner (which, whatever, but who doesn’t have Christmas ham? He’d been half convinced you were joking at first) while he’s always put weight on the dinner—what can he say? With Christmas came free hams from his Ma’s work, and that was a once a year experience. It’s just how things are. However, Atsumu apparently expects the both of you to magically gain the ability to read minds and communicate perfectly and innately understand each other upon your first meeting. Idiot.

You were gorgeous, though. That was almost the worst part; he'd seen you, and he'd gone oh, that's why Tsumu's so desperate to set us up. You smiled, a shy, cracked smile, and for a second it was all he could think about. Then, of course, he started arguing like an idiot and things blew up out of control.

“‘Samu!” Atsumu cheers, rounding the table he’s scrubbing down to slap him on the shoulder, arm snaking across them. “Whatcha up to? Free for a chat?”

He snorts, eyes lingering on the door. “Where’s your henchman?”

“Shouyou’s busy,” Atsumu declares shamelessly. “I was just wondering… everything alright with Christmas?”

“Things are fine,” he says blandly, “don’t worry, yer getting a gift.”

He squeezes Osamu’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I meant planning Christmas. You’re getting on with—?”

“Yeah. Just had a couple misunderstandings. We’re ironing them out.”

“No fights? You’re all good?”

So he’s already interrogated you. Colour Osamu unsurprised. “Yep. Things are fine.”

“You sure?”

“Did they tell you otherwise?”

“Nah,” Atsumu says too quickly to actually be honest, “just worried for the less charismatic twin. I get why you might be having trouble.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Osamu replies. “Now stop nagging. Your food will be fine, your Christmas will be fine, your friend isn’t going to maul me to death. Everything's sorted.”

VII.

Okay, you were overdramatic. You’re not that angry that he doesn’t understand the sanctity of a proper Christmas cake, because, funny enough, different people celebrate Christmas differently. It’s Christmas, he was a little frustrated, you’re a little frustrated; you can offer the both of you the benefit of the doubt.

So when Miya Osamu shows up at your apartment three minutes into your allotted meeting time, lunchbox in one hand and a crumpled pile of paper in the other, you merely offer him an ever so slightly tense smile and let him in.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” you offer, “how have you been?”

“Pretty good. Work’s been busy—always is, ‘round the holidays—and Tsumu’s been annoying as usual.”

“He’s been pestering you too?” You pause, glancing around the apartment. “Sorry, do you want to sit or do you want to look at the kitchen first?”

“We can sit.” He offers you a smile, eyes crinkling at the edges; you can’t help but notice it’s a trait unique to him. You can’t even begin to imagine his brother with crows feet. “I, uh, made some lunch. As an apology.”

“You didn’t have to,” you start, eyes flickering towards the lunchbox tucked underneath his arm. “But, um, thanks. That’s sweet of you.”

“Least I could do.” Osamu looks around for a second, as if waiting for your lead. You both hover there, unsure how to act following the dumpster fire that was your first conversation. “Your apartment looks nice. I like the tree.”

“Thanks.” You take a seat, motioning him over towards your couch. “Well, how are you?” You wince. “Sorry. I already asked that.”

He huffs a laugh. “It’s fine. I’ve been good. You?”

“As good as I can be.” You take a deep breath. “So. Christmas dinner.”

“Right. I took a page out of your book.” He gestures with the paper in his hand, pages denting from his tight grasp. “They all come with recipes so we can figure out what we’ll need to get. Just thought I’d run a possible menu by you? I know you said you wanted snacks.”

“It’s fine,” you say quietly. “We can just serve my idea as snacks, I hadn’t bought everything yet. Besides, it’s being held at my place, isn’t it? I can’t complain. Considering everything that happened last time we talked, I kind of assumed you’d want to take over dinner.”

“If that’s fine by you.” He offers you the paper, then the lunchbox. “I just made some onigiri. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, onigiri is good.” You place the paper in your lap, reaching over to unlatch the lunchbox and peer inside. “Oh, it’s the one I had last time! It was really good. I didn’t get to say.”

“Can’t blame ya. Tensions were a little high.”

You slide a glance his way. “You’re only half to blame for that.”

“Still half, ain’t I?”

“I suppose.” Your lips twitch as you reach over to grab one. “This looks delicious, thank you.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. At the same time, his lips curl up proudly like an aloof cat begging for attention; too proud to admit he’s pleased, not proud enough to not show it. Wildly endearing. “I make it every day.”

You hum around your first bite of onigiri and Osamu follows suit, grabbing one for himself. “I, uh, don’t have most of the stuff for this. And I don’t know if I have room in my fridge for a five kilo ham on top of everything else.”

“The ham needs to go out a couple days early to start defrosting too,” he warns. “How big is your fridge? I’ll need to see what I’m working with.”

“You’re going to be playing a bit of tetris with it,” you reply. “I’m making a lot of dessert that you’ll be contending with. Since you’re now on dinner duty, I was thinking of expanding the dessert menu a bit and just sending people home with leftovers.”

“I’m fine with that.” He takes a bite, chews, swallows. “We might need to shorten our snack list since it’s no longer meant to be a full meal. I was thinking we keep the mix of savoury and sweet, just lessen portions and maybe cut out the cheeseboard.”

“Thank god,” you mutter, “I felt like I had to put it out since it’s such a staple, but I’m lactose intolerant and a cheeseboard never gets finished. What was I supposed to do with all that leftover cheese? It’s so expensive nowadays too. Yeesh.”

Osamu snorts. “And around the holidays too? Things have doubled in cost.”

“It’s ridiculous. You’ll never believe how much I saw the local grocery store selling butter for the other day. It’s daylight robbery.” You flip past the menu to individual recipes, quickly skimming the ingredients list. “I have a pretty stacked spice cabinet, so you won’t need to buy much. Ms. Sato—my next door neighbour—has a herb garden too, and she’s always happy to spare fresh herbs. You can get the rosemary from there.”

“Nice. How far is your local fresh veggie store?”

“About an 18 minute drive,” you admit, “and it’ll be swamped as Christmas gets closer.”

“Still better than some withering supermarket produce three days away from moulding.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’re clearly going to a better supermarket then.”

You shake your head slightly. You’re really not.

To say things go better this time around is a vast understatement; with your individual printed menus (it turns out Osamu never got an opportunity to read your original dessert menu, given his outrage at dinner—all for the better in the end, considering you’d since expanded it) you compare what you’ll need, discuss who’s paying (Osamu insists he pays for ingredients if he’s using your kitchen, even if upon inspection he admits it's a little less well-equipped than he’d like), the dietary requirements of his additional guests, Sakusa’s preferred hygiene practices (fine—honestly just industry-standard requirements, you’ve never understood why people act like he’s the world's greatest germaphobe when he simply strictly adheres to proper hygiene practices and the healthy and safety standard), and an appropriate time to hold the meal (given the guests are coming over at 4 and snacks will be out, you settle for 7 so there’s still enough time for pre-meal socialisation).

When he finally surveys your kitchen, there’s a few issues. It’s smaller than he’d like, given you’ll be simultaneously working on a meal to feed eight voracious athletes (turns out his two friends from high school also went into professional volleyball), a chef, you, his mother, and Bokuto’s “best bud” Akaashi. Your dutch oven is a bit too small, which you deal with by him simply asking if he can bring his own over to keep in your house during the holidays, and your oven is going to be cramped, which is a side effect of working in a regular kitchen as opposed to Onigiri Miya. There’s a couple other issues—he does take one look at the inside of your fridge and freezer and grimace at the limited space—but it turns out that when you can properly sit down and talk, things don’t feel that dire. Who’d have thought?

By the time your kitchen investigation is winding down, the hours have trickled over and your shared meal settles warmly in your stomach. There’s a lingering smile on your face, and the ever-present knot in your chest has loosened into something closer to relief. Now that you’ve got all the major details sorted out and you actually know how things are going to work, the idea of co-hosting Christmas doesn’t feel as stressful.

You follow him to the door, leaning against the doorframe as you bid your farewells.

“Do you know when you’ll want to start dropping things off?” You ask. You’ve both well-established the meal prep that goes into your specific meal. Osamu, given the nature of his ingredients, is going to be cooking a lot more day-of; you’re lucky enough to get away with a lot more meal prep.

“I was thinking I’d start dropping things off maybe nine days before Christmas?” Osamu grimaces. “If I start early, I won’t have to juggle everything while catering to the full Christmas crowd at work.”

You hum in sympathy. You’d mentioned your own work as a baker at a crêperie and to say you hadn’t been experiencing the Christmas activity would be a big, plain, fat lie. It’s been hell on your back. “Alright. Just text me before you want to visit so I have some warning, M- Os- sorry, what should I call you?”

Osamu huffs, amused. “Just call me Osamu. Ya gotta deal with my oaf of a brother too, no need to get all formal. It’ll only get confusing. I’ll come around seven thirty on the 16th?”

“Perfect.” You smile up at him. “I’m really sorry again about how our first meeting went. I’m glad we sorted it out so quickly.”

“Didn’t I say it’s fine?” He asks blandly. “Water under the boat. We were both dicks.”

“Still.”

“Still,” he repeats, lips twitching upwards. “I’ll see ya around. It was nice talking to you.”

“You too, Osamu. Drive home safe!”

VIII.

you: would you mind taste testing something for me when you drop by to stack the fridge? you: i’m working on some christmas cookies and i need a second opinion on taste and how the icings looking sent 6:57pm

miya osamu (christmas): sure thing miya osamu (christmas): want me to bring leftovers from the shop? sent 7:01pm

you: a man after my heart you: yes please!! sent 7:03pm

miya osamu (christmas): be there in 15 sent 7:03pm

IX.

“Osamu!” You offer the man at your door a smile. “Come on in. The kitchens a mess right now and I still need to do the dishes, but I’ve been working on some desserts—”

“You told me,” he replies, “smells delicious. Sugar cookies?”

“Yeah, but I’ve also got some mini pumpkin pies cooking. I was thinking of serving it as a snack, but I don’t know if it’ll work well with everything else we’re serving.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He follows you to the kitchen, quickly unloading his two full tubs of stuff onto the kitchen counter. “Hope you don’t mind, but I brought my own mixer. Yer KitchenAid looks a little outdated, and I figured a newer model might be nicer until Christmas is over.”

“You’re an angel,” you reply brightly. “Do you need help stacking the fridge, or are you happy doing it yourself?”

“I’ll try a hand at it myself.”

“Holler if you need a hand.” You’re quick to return to your own preparations, practicing for Christmas. With the sugar cookies done (if Osamu approves of them, that is) you’ve also pre-made a few batches to keep chilled until Christmas comes. One thing done, only a hundred others to go. “Try a few cookies while you’re working.”

“Will do. Hey, was your work okay?”

“Same as always,” you say, “we can’t all own our own place. Boss is a jerk, the menu’s alright. What else is new?”

“Sounds boring.” A grunt, likely Osamu trying to fit a 5kg ham in a fridge that can barely hold five kilos of food to begin with. “And I’m making onigiri all day.”

“Maybe, but it’s all pain au chocolat and fruit tarts and those awful cinnamon swirls. Not to mention, the crepes suck.”

“Your fault for working at a crêperie. I didn’t even know those were real.”

“It’s all pseudo-French. I don’t think a real French person has ever stepped foot inside the establishment.”

Osamu whistles. “Sucks to be you.”

“Oh, Shut up,” you say waspishly. Your pie weights are collected back in the bag you store them in, the filling is done, and you’re just waiting for the crust to fully cool before filling them. Stuck with nothing immediate to do, you return to cleaning up. Osamu is busy maneuvering his huge dutch oven into your cabinet as you admire the stand mixer that will be yours for the next nine days, all attachments beside it. It possesses way more than your measly dough hook, beater, and a whisk that’s definitely seen better days. “Get to it, taste tester. Stop messing around.”

“Messing around? Do you have any idea how much this oven weighs?”

“That brother of yours wouldn’t have any issue,” you say teasingly.

“That brother of mine is a professional athlete. ‘Sides, he’d spend the entire time whining about having to do it.” Not something you’ve ever personally experienced, but you’ll take his word for it. Osamu, having finally placed his dutch oven, reaches over to your plate of cookies. You’ve done your best to make them Christmas themed when you don’t own proper Christmas cookie cutters—this really is the season of over consumerism—which largely means using circular cookie cutters and decorating them like baubles, but you think they’ve turned out pretty nice anyway. He picks one up, examines it, and grins. “Not sure why you were worried about the icing, it looks good. I like this one.” He turns it your way, jingling it a bit like a bell will start ringing. You bite back a smile.

“The lines aren’t too shaky?”

“Nah. Looks perfect.” Your mouth pulls into something pleased. You turn your head away to hide it, knowing even as you do it that you’re largely unsuccessful. In the interim of your bashfulness, Osamu takes a bite. “Mm, it tastes good too. Not too sweet.”

“Yeah?”

He grins, blinking slowly at you. “Yeah. Got no reason to lie, do I?”

“Alright, alright, don’t flatter me too much.” You laugh, flattered anyway. Geez.

Osamu merely hums, turning back to stacking the fridge. “Not like it’s hard. You’re a good baker.”

“Can tell from a couple of sugar cookies, can you?”

“Yeah, I can. I’m looking forward to the pumpkin pies.” He grabs a couple trays, slotting them where he can. Your fridge is already looking pretty full with everything in it, but he finds a way to make room.

“So,” Hinata starts hesitantly between mouthfuls of food. You’re at the local park, perched together on a bench as you eat your individual lunches. “How are you and Osamu getting along? Atsumu said you were,” he pauses, “having difficulties.”

“I may have overexaggerated,” you admit, “he’s actually really lovely to work with. He’s a really good chef and, after the initial bump, we don’t really have any issues. I think we were both just stressed about Christmas going perfectly that first time.”

Hinata brightens, his face flowering like the sun. “I knew you two would work it out! Atsumu was scared it was doomed.”

“Well, I did tell him Osamu couldn’t charm a wet paper towel or something. I was a bit aggressive.”

“He said,” Hinata replies gravely, “but I thought you’d talk it out. Kageyama—my setter from high school—and I had a really crappy first meeting too, and we were able to talk it out then. I don’t see why you wouldn’t have been able to now. You’re way more mature now than I was at fifteen.”

You cover your snort with a cough. You have heard stories about Hinata’s exuberance as a teenager, occasionally to his own detriment. It’s not as much of a comfort as he’s probably thinking, considering he might just be the world’s most charismatic individual. “Yeah, we apologised and everythings sorted out. Neither of us hold it against each other, I think. Osamu’s honestly really charming.”

He looks at you warmly. “You’ve both got a lot in common. It’s why Atsumu’s been so adamant about setting you up.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to learn some subtlety,” you grumble, “and don’t think I don’t know your hand in this, Mr. Co-conspirator.”

“I can see his vision.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s on this vision board he’s cultivating? You know, he asked me if he needs to start planning the wedding last time we talked.”

“He’s not that excited! I think. He really wants you to marry into the family though, and obviously their mum’s off limits.”

“You don’t know that. I love women.”

“She’s 53.”

“I like older women too.” You pause. “You know how old their mum is?”

“Yeah, she’s been inviting me to her birthday for the past couple of years.” Hinata takes a long, loud sip of his drink. “And you get along way better with Osamu.”

“You just know everyone on god’s green earth, don’t you.” You look over at the park, watching two kids kick a ball between the pair of them. “By the way, I wanted to ask. Do you know what Osamu would like for Christmas?”

XI.

That Saturday, Osamu arrives in the morning. He tells you it’s because he asked someone else to open the shop for him, leaving him free for the morning; either way, you make the both of you breakfast. He eats your homemade bread like it’s michelin star cuisine, and you swear you’ve never taken so many compliments in your life. You receive more in that hour than you have in the entirety of your existence, you’re pretty sure—a lifetime of deprivation being filled in fifty-seven measly minutes. It means a lot, even if you’re too proud to admit it.

You both end up in the same place you have every day he’s come over that week: the kitchen, Osamu mixing together ingredients for the roast glaze while you make a lemon meringue pie. You lend him an apron, which means that on top of his—admittedly very attractive, despite its simplicity—usual outfit is a pink apron with a classic ‘Kiss the Chef’ embroidered on the front. A gift from Atsumu for your birthday, which Osamu is quick to inform you was exactly what he got from Atsumu for Christmas last year. Hearts and all.

You knock against his hip as you walk past, peering into the fridge (already looking pretty full, which does not bode well for the remaining build up to Christmas) in search of some more pastry you’d pre-prepared for recipe testing. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what kind of thing would your mum like for Christmas?”

“You’re getting her a gift?” Osamu raises his head, turning a near 180-degrees to look at you.

“I’m getting everyone a gift, Osamu.” You busy your hands with scrubbing your kitchen counter free of stray flour. “Now, what does she want? And while we’re at it, what about your other two guests?”

“Get them something cheap.” He says simply. “You don’t know them, they don’t know you. No one needs to shell out for a stranger. I’m pretty sure Suna’s buying you wine and Aran’s got chocolate.”

Okay, simple gifts. That’ll be easy. Simple. Convenient. It won’t hurt your pockets much more than this holiday already is. “And your mum? Hinata recommended a massage wand, but I wanted a second opinion.”

Osamu snorts. “That scrub has no concept of a price range when it comes to gifts.”

“Tell me about it,” you lament. Hinata’s really good at budgeting, up until birthday gifts get involved. You’re not surprised Christmas is much the same. “I’m just worried a massage wand is too much since they run pretty expensive, but I don’t want to just get her wine and chocolate and call it a day. It’s what half the party will be doing.”

He hums. “Ma’s not that materialistic. She likes stuff she can use.”

“Well I’m not going to get her a set of pans, am I?”

He huffs, a soft sound that drags out into the air and lingers in the kitchen. “Not like that. I mean craft items, or something like honey from a farmers market or an artisan soap or some bath bombs. Shouyou’s on the right wavelength with the massage wand.”

“Okay, okay,” you leave the kitchen briefly to grab a notebook so you can scribble that down. “Chocolate, wine, artisanal goods. I’ll go out and grab them tomorrow. Then it’s just waiting on your gift.”

“Waiting on mine?” He asks, immediately curious. “You’re getting it shipped?”

“Nope.”

“Then how’re ya waiting on it? Still coming up with ideas?”

You roll your eyes. “None of your business, is it?”

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Your heart skips a beat at the endearment. Sweetheart. You. Sweetheart. “Give me a hint about mine, and I’ll tell you something about yours?”

“You’re so conniving,” you say fondly. “Fine. I’m waiting on it because—and you can’t get mad at me for this—I’m trying to thrift it.”

“Thrift it?” His brows furrow. “What is it, a sweater?”

“No,” you huff. “Look, I know it’s got a bad rap, but I like thrifting gifts. There’s always some hidden gems, and you can find some really good high-quality or vintage stuff at affordable prices. It forces me to think out of the box sometimes too. They can make for really good gifts.”

He raises his hands in a sign of surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging you. My Ma did the same thing growing up.”

“Then you’d know it’s not just sweaters.”

“Maybe I just like giving you a hard time.”

“Oh my god.” You take a moment, fight back a smile, and continue. This man—you wish you’d met him sooner. “Anyway, I have an idea, but it’s a bit on the pricey side. I was hoping I could get something good quality thrifted, but if I don’t see anything over the next couple of days I’m falling back onto plan B.”

“Which is?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“C’mon now! Yer just stringing me along.”

You turn to him, peering at him through your lashes. “Maybe I just like giving you a hard time.”

His expression cracks. “Yer such a brat,” he tells you, even as his mouth splits into a grin. “You think you’re so smart, dontcha?”

“Well, since you said so,” you say brightly, “it’d be rude of me to refute a compliment, yeah?”

“Whatever,” he says warmly, “you’re a big fan of thrifting?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “As I said, you can find some nice vintage pieces. It’s where I got my favourite jacket, and I’ve been hoping to find a good sweater there for forever. I know cashmere is a far away dream, I just want something that’ll last, y’know? Clothes fray so fast nowadays.”

“Hm.” It’s all he says. A low hum of acknowledgement, a soft curl of huh, a- you don’t even know how to explain it. He opens his mouth to speak, and the pair of you are interrupted by the blaring of your timer.

“Oh, shit!” You squeeze his arm, shuffling past his figure as you hurry over to the oven. “God, I shouldn’t have gotten distracted. Lemon meringue is so finicky—”

“Don’t sweat it, I’m sure it’ll taste great.” Osamu peers over your shoulder as you lay it on the counter, pressed close to your back. “How long until I can try it?”

“You’ve got a black hole for a stomach there,” you tell him, “five hours minimum.” You pause. “Hey, wait, what about my gift? We had a deal.”

His expression twists into a grin. “None of your business, is it?”

XII.

miya osamu (christmas): its really hurting my heart to have to make greek salad for christmas dinner sent 1:32pm

you: your fault for catering for a bunch of athletes! you: here’s to hoping they don’t turn their nose up at dessert sent 1:35pm

miya osamu (christmas): theyd be idiots to miya osamu (christmas): besides whatever they don’t eat ma and i are taking home lmao sent 1:36pm

you: a little presumptuous of you to assume you’ll be taking all the dessert you: maybe i want to distribute it among my coworkers sent 1:37pm

miya osamu (christmas): you dont miya osamu (christmas): you hate all of them miya osamu (christmas): minus the one girl sent 1:38pm

you: stop listening to me when i talk sent 1:38pm

miya osamu (christmas): hard ask sent 1:39pm you reacted to this message with ‘👎’

XIII.

“Ya know,” Atsumu starts, which never bodes well for the collective intelligence of anyone in the room. “Considering the two of you are hosting and all, do you think you should have matching Christmas sweaters? As a show of unity.”

“Whaddya take me for? A muppet?” Osamu snorts. “Didja even try with that one? That’s your flimsiest excuse yet.”

“Hey! It’s a genuine question.” Atsumu nods to himself. “You should get them a gift. They’d love a matching Christmas sweater.”

“Sure,” he says blandly. “You done now?”

“Wait, really? You’ll do it?”

“No.” Osamu turns back to what he was doing, which is making dinner for the both of you to eat when he comes over in an hour with more food to put away. “I’m getting ‘em something else.”

“Wait, really?” Atsumu repeats, even more shocked, which he has no right to be when he was just suggesting matching Christmas sweaters. “You’re actually getting them something?”

“Close yer mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

“I didn’t realise you were actually getting along! Shouyou made it seem like you’re best buds, but you know how he is!”

“Shouyou’s clearly got his head screwed on a bit tighter then.”

“Oi, fuck off.” Atsumu groans. “They talked about you like you were, I don’t know, the devil or something. They said you couldn’t convince a soggy napkin to marry you without it wanting to off itself in thirty.”

Osamu snorts. He can’t find it in himself to be offended; that’s pretty funny. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

“And now you’ve learnt humility?” Atsumu’s head jerks, horrified. “What have they done to you?”

Osamu ignores him. Atsumu isn’t wrong, even if he’d rather drop dead than admit it. He does like you, a lot more than he probably should given you’ve barely known each other for two weeks. You’re cute (really, crazily cute), funny, conscientious; he’s had more fun sorting out Christmas with you than he’d ever imagined, even with Atsumu hyping you up to be the second coming of Christ himself. You’ve grown closer than he’d thought possible. If he’s being honest with himself (which he is), he’s kind of dreading the end of your plans come Christmas.

“You’re so full of shit,” he says instead, “I’ve always been like this.”

XIV.

It’s finally Christmas. This, of course, comes with a whirlwind of activity; you spend Christmas eve deep cleaning your house with Osamu as a willing assistant, spend Christmas day rearranging decorations and doing the last of your baking and trying really, really hard not to panic.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Osamu assures you, elbow deep into his dinner prep while you buzz around the apartment, looking for the slightest imperfection in need of fixing. “Your baking tastes great, the apartment looks nice, everyone’s coming to have a good time, and you’ve still got half an hour to get ready in case something does go wrong.”

You nod in agreement even as you rearrange the bouquet on the dining table. “The ham’s already in the oven, right?”

“You helped me put it in half an hour ago,” he replies, “stop worrying. C’mere, don’tcha have a custard to make for the eggnog?”

“Right!” You zip into the kitchen, readjusting your apron as you approach your now stuffed fridge. Getting anything new in it has been a challenge, what with the way you’ve both had to rearrange it three times to make everything fit. You grab the milk carton, dropping it at the nearest counter and reaching over to squeeze Osamu’s shoulder in thanks as you walk past. Everything else is all but ready; the house is arranged, gifts are stacked under the tree, the ham’s already cooking and every single one of your desserts (minus the custard) is tucked carefully in the fridge. Snacks are already laid out on the dining table, the bathroom has been scrubbed until it was sparkling, everyone knows your address, you’re almost completely dressed; there’s little to do but fiddle. And make custard. Osamu passes you the egg carton, and you smile at him in thanks.

You guys work in silence before your own nerves get the better of you. “I’m really sorry about all this. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about everything right now. It’s planned down to the minute, I really shouldn’t be so stressed about this.”

“I don’t mind. Happens to the best of us.” Osamu pauses, taking a break to wipe olive oil off his hands before leaning his hip against the counter. “I’m pretty nervous too.”

“You’re good at looking otherwise.”

He shrugs. “There’s a lot to be nervous about. Ma’s joining us, and I always want to make it a good holiday for her. Work’s been busy, holiday planning’s been busy. I’m doing a more western-style Christmas dinner. I’m worried about where you and I will stand when Christmas is over and I’m worried Ma’s gonna feel awkward being over 20 years older than everyone else. I know she’s struck up that weird friendship with Shouyou, but still.”

“Well, Sakusa does have a weird affinity with middle aged women,” you offer, “and if anything, he’ll be desperate for embarrassing stories about Atsumu. You know how those boys like tormenting each other. I’ve tasted your cooking too, and it’s never been anything less than spectacular—you should know, given how much I enjoy it. And, uh, I hope we can continue meeting up regularly afterwards. At the very least, you’ll need to visit to transport half of your cooking utensils home.”

“Doesn’t stop me from worrying though, does it?” He cracks a smile. “I dunno. I’ve grown attached to this kitchen. Might take a page out of Tsumu’s book and start haunting your apartment.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you say softly. “I mean, the circumstances weren’t amazing, but I’ve liked getting to know you. I hope we can stay close.” You hover on that for a moment, unsure how to continue. You don’t want to just gush, but I hope we can stay close isn’t all you want to say, either. The words linger there, sweet on the tip of your tongue, lost only to your inability to verbalise the feeling coalescing in your chest. “You’re, uh, a dear.”

Osamu reaches over, grasping your hand in his own; his palm is warm, soft from the oil he was just handling, a bit bigger than your own. “I’m a dear? What are you, my grandma?” He asks teasingly.

“You know what I mean.”

His lips twitch upwards. “Yeah. I do.” He squeezes your hand, thumb rubbing soft circles into your knuckles. His mouth opens, like he too has something he wants to say but doesn’t know how to say it. Like you, he too cops out. “Keep texting, ‘kay? This has been fun.”

“Of course.” You grin, lips peeled over your teeth, your joy on full display. “What else are we supposed to do with our lunch breaks?”

His gaze flickers. “I have some ideas.”

It sinks into you then; oh. He’s flirting. Probably. Most likely? That’s, like, the most overused phrase in the book. I have some ideas. He doesn’t just want to talk. He has some ideas. You turn your hand in his grasp until your palms face each other, carefully lacing your fingers together. You keep eye contact. He follows your lead dutifully, shuffling ever so slightly closer, and you gather that soft hope in your chest as you respond. “Some ideas, huh? Wanna share with the class?”

It hovers in the air between you. Your eyes flicker down to his mouth, soft and slightly parted; his flickers to yours. The anticipation, that moment before an inevitability, yawns. You both know what’s going to happen, your free hand moving to his bicep as his rests on your waist. You bite your lip to contain a smile.

“You just gonna stare at me all day?” He asks, voice ushered into a low murmur.

“Well, you were the one that had some ideas,” you reply, voice just as low. “I don’t want to get the wrong idea, do I?”

“I have a feeling you know what it is.” His hand, a brand on your waist, slides until it rests on the small of your back; he pulls you in until you’re pressed together, a scant thread of air the only thing separating you. You tilt your head up, still making eye contact, and he hums slowly. “You’ve got such a beautiful smile. It was the first thing I noticed about you.”

Your features bloom, a happiness inexperienced unfurling in your chest; you’re sure now, absolutely certain, that there’s not a single person in human history to have experienced the same joy that you do in this moment. It’s not possible, that there’s this kind of giddiness in you that billions before you have been able to experience. Or maybe it is, and it’s your turn to experience it. Either way, you open your mouth to reply.

This, of course, means it’s the perfect time for the doorbell to ring.

Osamu’s head swings forward until your foreheads are touching, a deep groan escaping his lips. A similar sound of disappointment escapes you. “Whoever that is, I’m gonna kill them.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” you say, even as a part of you wants to ignore them. “Those are our guests we’re talking about. Who’s gonna eat all that ham if you kill them at the door?”

“It’s your Christmas cake I’m worried about.” And he steps away, rolling his shoulders in noticeable disappointment. “You started it in August, can’t let all that hard work go to waste.”

The doorbell rings again. Your eye twitches, even as you heft a full-body sigh. “I’ll get it.”

When you open the door, Atsumu’s cruel, malignant face is the one to greet you, a huge bag hefted under his arm. “Took you long enough! Did I interrupt something?”

“You’re obnoxious,” you tell him, stepping out of the way. Hinata follows behind him, arms stacked with about six bags full to the brim. “Gifts under the tree.”

“What’ve you got there, Shouyou?” Osamu asks, moving to grab some of the bags. Atsumu bats his hands away.

“Nah, uh, uh, Samu.” He grins. “Nice apron. Got it for you last Christmas, didn’t I?”

“No, that was my birthday gift.”

He grimaces. Osamu, in contrast, grins. “Nice of you to get us matching aprons. Let’s hope we don’t have a repeat performance.”

“You’re such a dick.” Atsumu claps him on the back. “Geez, get freshened up. You’re gonna welcome your guests looking like that?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Good thing you’ve got me to set you right.” Atsumu nods to himself, rummaging through his huge bag before tossing Osamu a headband with foamed, sequined deer horns on top. “There you go. Get changed and put this on—the wardrobe is half the holiday!”

“Now you’re just making shit up.” Still, remarkably good at annoying each other, Atsumu manages to usher Osamu into the bathroom. The second Osamu’s gone, he turns to you with a wide grin.

“We bought alcohol.”

Instinctively, your eyes snap to the weight Hinata is carrying in horror. Hinata, either not noticing or not caring for the way you recoil, smiles. “The place looks good! Sorry for coming so early.”

“It’s alright,” you say, even though it really, really isn’t. “Did you seriously bring six bags of alcohol? How much did that even cost?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Atsumu pats your shoulder consoling. “We’re gonna need it. You might want some liquid courage for this.”

“For what?” You ask, eyes darting over to Hinata, who’s suddenly very dutifully unpacking the contents of an entire liquor store onto your counter. “Okay, wait, don’t do that. Put it in the pantry.”

Atsumu sighs out your name. “You don’t need to play coy with us. We know the truth.”

“...Right.” You turn away, retreating back to the kitchen and your unfinished custard. “Well, you have fun with that. You’re not getting drunk until after dessert.”

“Now that’s just not fa—” the doorbell cuts Atsumu off this time. Serves him right.

XV.

The party is in full swing by the time gifts are being opened. Your snacks are well received, given they’re all but devoured by the time dinner comes around. Dinner is a smash hit, and dessert is demolished even with 80% of the guest list comprising of professional athletes. Osamu’s ham is a particular favourite (you have to admit, there really is merit to a Christmas roast) and your Christmas cake another, four months of cultivating gone in fifteen minutes. By the time everyone is winding down, Atsumu’s excessive load of alcohol has been brought out even though most of the party is sipping on the homemade eggnog—Atsumu’s brandy an additional ingredient—and gifts, which at that point had spilled out from under the tree to halfway across the lounge, are finally brought out.

“You were right,” you mutter to Osamu, who’s sat so close beside you that your shoulders brush with every movement, which is something Atsumu had been gleeful to point out. Constantly. “The roast was the better idea. I can’t believe I was so anti-ham.”

“Looking a little cosy there,” Atsumu says knowingly for the third time this evening, before Osamu gets the chance to respond. Aran, one of Osamu’s guests and sitting criss-cross-applesauce beside Atsumu, groans loudly. “Got something to share?”

“They were complimenting my ham,” Osamu replies blandly. “Why? You wanna take turns, maybe compliment the salad?”

Hinata perks up from where he was opening a volleyball shaped soap. You’re not sure who bought him it. “It was really good, Osamu. Are you sure I’m allowed to take some home?”

“Go ahead, Shouyou. You think I can eat that and everything else in the next few days?”

Tuning out the conversation, you pull out your next gift. It’s from Osamu, funny enough; you bite your lip, ready to make a comment, only to find him already looking at you. “Go on, open it. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Rolling your eyes, you begin meticulously unwrapping it. It’s square, which you find out is because he put it in a nondescript cardboard box before wrapping it. A gasp escapes you as you peer inside and Atsumu (ever the mood killer) squawks when you pull it out to properly look at it. “You called me a muppet for suggesting a sweater!”

“You’re a fucking liar, Tsumu.” Osamu immediately shoots back.

You grin, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you run a hand along the inside. It’s soft, with a slightly well-worn look to it; you almost feel like kicking your feet, recalling your conversation from several days ago. No wonder he refused to give you a hint—he’d only just decided what to get you, that sneak. You don’t even know how he found this.

Well, you kind of do. You nudge his shoulder, grinning giddily. “Open your gift from me. Right now.”

“Impatient, arentcha?”

“I’m serious.” You beam up at him. “Open it, Osamu.”

He rolls his eyes fondly, pulling it towards you and quickly tearing through the paper. There’s a moment's pause as he stares at his gift. Osamu’s lips twitch upwards, peeling back over his teeth. He glances at his gift, back up to you, back down to his gift again. “You told me you weren’t getting me a sweater.”

“I lied.”

“You’re kidding,” Atsumu groans, “Osamu rags on me about suggesting matching sweaters, and the two of ya do it anyway?”

“They’re not matching,” you argue. “And it’s cute. You were just meddling.”

“It’d’ve had the same result if you’d followed my lead anyway!”

“Yeah, except if we had it your way they’d be ugly, scratchy, and unwearable.” Osamu argues. “This is classy.”

“When have you ever cared about class—?”

XVI.

You knew Atsumu and Hinata were up to something. It was pretty obvious—everyone and their mother could tell. Unfortunately for you, knowing they’re going to do something doesn’t mean you knew what it was. You find out because the co-conspirators divide and conquer and Hinata, for all his fumbling, remains incomprehensibly charismatic.

It only really clicks when you almost slam into Osamu as Atsumu nearly shoves him into a wall before sprinting off like his life depends on it. It probably does. Giggling like a schoolgirl, all he says as he zips off is, “Thank me later!’

You yelp as Osamu nearly sends the both of you tumbling to the floor. “What the hell? Why did he do that?”

Osamu groans. “Something about ‘helping out the less fortunate.’ He thinks I’m too scared to make a move on you.”

That shocks a laugh out of you. “He has such little faith.”

It’s proven doubly true when something hits your shoulder. Osamu swipes it before it hits the ground, displaying it to you with an open palm. Plastic mistletoe, with a piece of tape dangling sadly off the edges. “You’re kidding.”

“That scheming pig,” Osamu says with something akin to wonder, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“He couldn’t even splurge? This looks like a stick with leaves.” You pick it up, feeling along the synthetic edge of one leaf. It really is a sad thing. You show it off to Osamu, a snicker accompanying your next words, “Looks like he really thought you needed the help.”

“Well,” Osamu muses, “since he’s so kindly went through the effort, it wouldn’t hurt to finish what we started earlier, would it?”

“Oh? You’re giving him the satisfaction?”

“Between you and me, I think I’ll be the one better off for this.” Both hands move to cup your cheeks, and you let the mistletoe fall to the ground as your own hands move to his hips. “Can I kiss you, sweetheart?”

You bite at the inside of your cheek, desperately fighting a smile. “No complaints here.”

He hums softly, one hand dropping to the curve of your neck. He leans in then, breath ghosting over your mouth, and kisses you. It’s a delicate thing, barely a brush of your lips before you press into it. His lips taste vaguely of cinnamon, pressing into a smile as your noses nearly collide. You grin hopelessly as well, and it’s not much of a kiss at all; you’re two idiots grinning into each other’s mouths, breathing the same air and clinging to each other and hovering awkward in the doorway to the bathroom. It’s kind of perfect.

Osamu pulls away first. “I’m going to do that again,” he tells you, matter of fact. “And if you let me, I’m gonna take you out for dinner this weekend.”

“Yeah?” You ask, features giddy with a full-body happiness; your heart beats like a drum, your fingers twitch with a physical manifestation of your affection, and you rock on your feet, leaning into him once again. “I can make myself available.”

His face softens. “Yeah.” Then he’s leaning in again, hands warm against your skin, thumb rubbing circles into your cheekbones. He presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re stuck with me now. Hope ya don’t mind.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you say, leaning up and into him.

#hq x reader secret santa 24 #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #↘ writing #↘ writing: hq!

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 1 year ago

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I was wondering if you do fluff/sfw fics, I love your writings! If so I would request some domestic fluff with one of cillians characters, I'm a sucker for that cute cuddly shit. <3

VISIONS OF SUCH SWEET DAYS ─── neil lewis 𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I hold you like the first time. I love your heart and all that you are. When I think of us it seems absurd to not believe in eternity.” — a letter to Albert Camus, María Casares.

pairing. neil lewis x reader

summary. domestic headcanons w/neil lewis!

warnings. tooth-rotting fluff, married life, domesticity, mutual pining, bestfriends-to-lovers

word count. 2.4k

a/n. ik this probably won’t get much attention cus theres no smut but this was sm fun to write!!! tysm anon & im so sorry requests are taking long to do😭schools taking precedent for me atm! also this wasn’t proofread i apologize😓 lastly, the title is from “apocalypse” by cigarettes after sex :)

P.S. THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR 2000 FOLLOWERS AHHHH I LOVE U GUYS SM!!!

Being in a relationship with Neil Lewis doesn’t change a thing at all. Your dynamic has stayed the same since you were just friends: you two were like an old married couple-- even before you did get married.

For years, it made Jonathan and Lucien wrinkle their noses, and you ponder about the matter often, how lovey-dovey you two had actually been without even realizing it…

🎬 you used to visit him at work with takeout after he complained about forgetting his lunch over the phone. he’d light up when you walked in, why’re you here?! on his tongue before you lifted up the plastic bag, and he’d smile that boyish smile of his, warm and appreciative and so neil, the same sweet neil you’d known since you were young.

“forget your lunch again, neil?” you’d grin. “i bet you could recite the seventh seal word by word but forget if you brushed your teeth this morning.” “you wound me!” he’d press a hand to his heart, theatrically pretending he’d gotten stabbed, “you don’t have to bet— i can recite the seventh seal word by word.”

🎬 when his washer broke, and he was too busy to get it fixed, you offered to wash his laundry for him. obviously, the thought of you handling his clothes — his intimates — had him mortified, so he suggested he just come over to yours and put a load in instead. still, the day dissolved into the two of you folding your laundry side by side, humming nostalgic tunes alongside your handheld radio.

“oh, god, change the station,” he’d groan, haphazardly tossing one of his newly rolled up tube socks into a plastic laundry bin. “hm? how come?” you questioned absently. “they’re playing that song, y’know— from homecoming?” “when that girl -- what was her name, again? -- dumped you?” “ugh, don’t remind me and please, just change it already!”

🎬 with adulthood came change, and honestly, the two of you didn’t get to see each other as often as you wanted, so neil proposed that you spend at least one night a week eating dinner together. once, you decided to cook instead of eating out, but neil got impatient. he wandered over to your figure in the kitchen, whining that he was about to keel over and die since you were taking so long. you rolled your eyes, but relented, holding up the wooden spoon and letting him taste-test, asking if it was too salty or too sweet. maybe it was because he was hungry, or your food was something so nostalgic and familiar to him, but he absolutely melted at the taste, singing praises the entire night.

🎬 sometimes you & neil’s movie-nights would drift off a little too late into the night, and the two of you would fall asleep on his couch together. you’d wake up, a strained, uncomfortable tangle of limbs and blankets, but you still felt right at home— snug against neil’s warm body, his familiar scent clinging to your skin.

🎬 since neil rarely got out of the house, you made it your mission to expose that man to the sunlight as much as possible; you didn't exactly want your bestfriend to get jaundice because he was binge-watching humphrey bogart's entire filmography for days in a row. you’d take him everywhere and anywhere: the two of you would go to the sunday farmers market downtown, looking at all the booths and tents laid out, buying fresh fruit and vegetables as opposed to, what you called, “overpriced, super-market big-box store garbage”, to which, neil would say, “is this a dig at me? because you know i’m terrible at grocery shopping, i cant help buying whatever’s easiest!”

🎬 other days, you’d walk in the park side by side, taking in the fresh air and throwing bread at ducks despite the DO NOT FEED THE DUCKS sign in bright yellow, snickering like school children.

“that one looks just like you,” you’d giggle, pointing at a particularly ugly looking one, flailing about in the water and splashing its siblings. “hardy-har, that’s very funny,” neil snorted, pushing you playfully. “jokes on you, it’s probably just like the ugly duckling.” “poor neil, is this your way of telling me you were switched at birth?”

🎬 sometimes, the two of you would sneak on top of your work building’s roof and, well, people-watch, picking a random person and dictating what you thought they were doing that day.

neil pointed at a lady wearing a furry wolf costume, and you filled in what you thought. “oh, oh, she’s going to her kids' birthday! the guy they hired to be a wolf didn’t show up, so mom decided to do it herself.” “good on her, but i don’t think it's her kids birthday she’s going to…” he trailed off, and you looked at him confused, before he gestured to the fur-suit-wearing woman entering a strip club. “huh,” you’d blink, “kinky.”

🎬 despite the confidence he projects at gumshoe video, considering he dresses up in some silly costume every week, the guy is absolutely terrified at booking his own appointments. it doesn't matter what it is, dental or medical or even a haircut, he stumbles and hangs up at the slightest rise of panic within him. its funny the first few times, but you could not deal with it anymore after he was sick with something he “didn’t know” because he was too nervous to call his doctor. you booked the first few, but then you taught him, shoving the phone in his hand and pantomiming what to do silently in front of him.

“uh, um, i’d like to book my - my-“ neil froze, mind going blank. you smacked your forehead lightly in exasperation, then pretended to inject yourself with a needle. “my, um, routine-- routine vaccinations!”

🎬 it took a few tries, but he finally got the hang of it— a big achievement on his part, but your number’s still hooked up to his dentist, so you have to remind him every time that he has to book his cleaning.

Nothing about your love has changed, not a single thing from back then, and honestly, maybe you loved him the whole time. Thought there certainly is a more romantic tone to your relationship now…

🎬 waking up next to neil might be one of the sweetest sights you’ve ever seen. usually, it’s him who wakes up first— he’s a light sleeper, while you sleep like the dead. your eyes flutter open, and there he is, piercing blue eyes drifting past your every feature. his gaze is tense and consuming but tender and loving all at once; you feel like he’s seeing through you, but it's in a good way-- you want to bare your heart on your sleeve for him because he does it for you. his hands are smooth on your side, holding you close, and he brings one up to cradle your face when he notices you’re awake.

“goodmorning,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “morning, you little creep,” you grin against his skin, “do you watch me every morning?” he rolled his eyes, “not every morning… i can’t when you go to work early, obviously.”

🎬 your wedding is the funniest thing you’re ever experienced. sure, most people want it to be beautiful and perfect, but you were content with anything— hell, neil could’ve married you with just his cardboard cutout of ingrid bergman as the sole witness and you’d still swoon. it’s funny because your families have this chemical energy about them when they’re together— they get along like a house on fire, and it’s just, seriously, seriously chaotic. all your friends being there doesn’t help either, especially when you were 99% sure your other best friend, violet, was pickpocketing the plus-ones you didn’t know.

“is that your aunt, or my cousin’s girlfriend?” neil asked in a whisper, taking a large bite of your red-velvet wedding cake. “i’m not sure…” you knit your brows, “but that is lucien asking for her number.”

🎬 you had gotten sick before with neil knowing before, obviously, but living with him while you’re sick means he makes it his personal mission to cater to your every need. he supplies you with dozens of pillows and blankets if you’re chilly, and will just as quickly fling them across the room if you break out a sweat. he’s by your side the whole time, even though you protest and fume that he’ll get sick too, but he says he doesn’t care, not when the love of his life is suffering. he’s so devoted to you, and it gets downright irritating at times like these, but you can’t deny how warm being showered in his love feels; being taken care of, doted on, his wide blue eyes peering into you for any sign of discomfort at all so he can quickly fix it.

just a single could i have some water? and neil’s hauling a thirty-six pack of plastic bottles into your bedroom. “just in case,” he pants, “dehydration’s a big problem when you’re sick, okay?!”

🎬 this man is a fiend!!! for spooning. little spoon or big spoon, he does not care okay maybe he likes being the little spoon a lil bit more he just adore having you near him. when he’s the big spoon, he pulls you real close, your face in the crook of his neck as he pets the back of your head gently, your arms wrapping around his waist. it’s the perfect angle because he gets to see your darling beautiful eyes looking up at him in the way you know he folds for every time. when he’s the little spoon, hes wastes no time in curling up against you, his head resting on your chest. theres just something so comforting about the position, be it your hands running through his brown locks, your legs hooked over his, or how his hands come up under your shirt and make you shiver, but you let it happen anyway, because you know how much he loves feeling your warmth under his fingertips.

🎬 neil is terrible, downright terrible at cooking… but he is a genius when the oven mitts come out! his silly little cinephile brain apparently made ample enough space for him to hone his baking skills, and when he’s not working or watching movies or cuddling with you, he’s in the kitchen, flour unknowingly on his face as he beats the living hell out of some poor egg whites.

“c’mere,” you usher him over, your eyes crinkling at his state: he was wearing a frilly hot-pink tartan apron with a heart-shaped chest — a gag gift you got him last christmas— while he piped chocolate ganache frosting on cupcakes. he drifted over to you absently, eyes still trained on the treats. they snapped straight over to you however, when you leaned in, presumably to give him a kiss, and instead darted your tongue out to lick the frosting on his cheek. “hey!” he gasped, face flushing as he scrambled to wipe away the saliva on his face. “you could’ve just said you wanted a taste.” “wouldn’t get such a cute reaction though, now would i?” you winked.

🎬 when a song comes on that doesn’t bubble up traumatic juvenile memories, you’re quick to clasp neil’s hand on your own, letting the music take you wherever, be it in your kitchen or at gumshoe video.

“dance with me,” you said, like it was a question, but already pulling neil up by the arm off your livingroom couch. your arms hooked around his neck as his hands rested softly on your waist, a familiar and comforting pressure on the flesh as you two swayed back and forth in tune to the music. “do we have a song?” you wondered, shifting your feet on the hardwood floor and looking up at him through your lashes. “the one from our wedding, probably,” he answered, “but this can be it if you want.” it’s some song you’ve never heard before, but its a good one, something you both like. “sure,” you murmur, turning to the side and resting your head on his chest as he pulled you close, swaying still. “i love you,” you said suddenly, and you heard neil let out a soft exhale of breath. “i love you, too. i think marrying you was the best thing i ever did.” “i think letting the weird new kid sit next to me at lunch was the best thing i ever did.”

All in all, married life with Neil is a dream, and entirely what you expected: you understand him like you do breathing. this love for him is innate, ingrained within you, and you know its the same for him— the love he’s shown you this whole time is the same pure thing, a tender and married adoration.

You know your husband so well you swear you could pick him out of a group by heartbeat alone; how it skips and stutters at the sound of your voice, how his heart pumps with a love only he can provide. There’s no-one else but Neil for you-- no one.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives #neil lewis headcanons #neil lewis fluff

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bugsbia · 1 year ago

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Wanderer having a fat crush on gender neutral reader

BEFORE READING: okay this is just some 6am fluff, I haven’t slept at all and just wanted to ramble about scara being soft so this won’t be very well written, but it’s not horrid.🩷

just fluff, big time fluff

You came into his life unexpectedly, incredibly unexpectedly since he never really intended to form any close bonds anytime soon for the fear of abandonment still lingered within his heart. He couldn’t help it though, something about you just grabbed his attention and intrigued him. He didn’t even truly understand his own feeling at first, a crush wasn’t exactly something he’d had yet in his 500 years of life.

You didn’t jump at the chance to talk to him at first since he had quite the reputation for being cold and distant, but he slowly made is way into your life. Coincidently finding you in the library as you studied and offering to help, he’s awfully smart for a man who looks no older than 23. It amazed you to a degree, but it also came off as a little obnoxious, he would definitely cut you off with an “Uhm actually”.

You two sort of became friends after these little study sessions happened a few times, waving and saying hi whenever you’d cross paths, sometimes he’d even give you food under the pretence of “having cooked too much” when in reality he just wanted to cool something up for you. He liked the way you’d look so happy to have a nice meal during your studies, it was a joy he never truly got to experience and seeing you get to experience it felt as if it was healing his heart a little.

He slowly began to touch you, not in a weird way, just small gestures. Hands brushing against eachother, light pats on the back or putting a hand on your shoulder as he watched over your shoulder at whatever task you were up-to. He began holding onto your hand to take you places, playing it off as simply not wanting to lose you in such a busy city such a sumeru. I’m reality he just liked the way it felt, the way your hands so easily fit together, how your fingers intertwined. You didn’t seem to mind it either, so he never stopped, but he would have if you asked him too.

You both grew accustomed to these touches, your hands remaining intertwined long beyond what was truly needed, he’d let his hand linger sometimes at the small or your back whenever you’d be stand by each-others side. At some point during this you realised your growing feelings for him, the way your heart would flutter and stomach would knot when you felt his hand on you, the way you’d feel a little giddy when he held onto your hand. It also made you feel special, this man was known by students of the academia for being a no non-sense person who rarely even paid attention to anyone, but he was here with you, showing you these affections that would have students spitting out their drinks.

He tried to hide his adoration for you behind a thin lie, saying he was merely being nice and only doing these things because you so clearly liked it. He knew the truth though, he was just scared to admit it, worried you’d run for the hills, disappear the way those of his past did if you found out he truly adored you, the way you smiled, the way you laughed, everything about you. He didn’t want to risk the friendship.

He would often go to Nahida for advice for you, grumbling and mumbling over how he didn’t know what to do, and he was so very confused. She would promote him to confess to you, seeing it as a good step in the right direction. If you rejected him then he’d learn to handle rejection, it was a good exercise for him and after weeks and months worth of discussion with Nahida he finally did it.

It wasn’t anything big, he isn’t the kind of guy to go all the way out for a confession. It was simple, you two were together in the library again, studying the way you did when you first met, he startled you for a moment when he said your name in such a serious, you panicked for a moment. Worrying if you’d hurt him, if something had gone wrong, but your nerves instantly calmed when he quietly grumbled that he liked you. He tried to make himself feel better by playing up his sarcastic persona, acting as if this was no big deal to him, but the vulnerability in his eyes told you everything.

Especially when you told him you felt the same, the looked shock for a short moment before quickly trying to cover it up, acting all confident like he knew you’d like him because he was just so cool. All a silly facade to try cover up the adoration he felt for you, you knew it was just a facade though with the way he smiled to himself and the light blush upon his cheeks. How adorable he was, and now he was your boyfriend.

#Scaramouche x reader #Scaramouche #scaramouche x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact X you #Scaramouche fluff #genshin fluff #wanderer #wanderer x you #wanderer genshin #wanderer x reader

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lincolndjarin · 11 months ago

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Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 5

chapter five : i'll decide where to go from here

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : happy last chapter of oh honey!!!! took a while to get out bc i was briefly on hiatus and then was in a slump (whoops) but here it is. this is another case of me writing an ending before the story so this has been the intended ending since i started and i hope you all like it as much as i do

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 6.4k

summary : a look into the past and present of life in honey, west virginia

warnings, etc. : language, allusions to sex, angst & fluff, complicated relationships and people who are trying to handle them, an obscene amount of flashbacks, reader has hair and is carried by Joel, several timelines in no particular order.

“C’mere, bunny.” His stubble brushes against the back of your neck, his mouth is warm as you feel a kiss placed against your spine.

“Mmm, what’s on the agenda for today?” You hum, pushing back against him a bit, the camper’s freezing in the winter, your heater broke a week ago and the parts Joel ordered to fix it won’t be in for a week. So you’re stuck with a little space heater you’d bought at the hardware store.

“I was thinkin’ we’d just do this for a while.” His arms tighten around your waist and stomach with a sigh. “We could just stay in today, order food, watch a movie on your laptop.” He yawns before nestling close against you.

“It’s too cold to stay here, it’s supposed to snow all weekend, it’s only gonna get worse. Maria even closed the home early yesterday” You groan, rolling over in his arms to press your face into his neck. The tips of your nose and ears are freezing, the two of you are under all the blankets you own, bundled up, when you peer out the window you can see the snow falling and settling on the trees.

Joel mumbles into your hair, deeply inhaling. “Why don’t you pack a bag and we can head back to the house then. You can stay until Monday and can fix the heat while you’re at work.”

“I hate staying at your place, all of my shit is here.” You spend most weekends at Joel’s, it’s easiest that way, but packing up all of your things and bringing them back and forth is getting tiring.

“Just bring it with you.”

“I think you underestimate how much stuff I need for four days.” You’re already giving yourself a headache trying to make a mental list of everything you’ll need.

“Why don’t you just move in.” He mumbles with another yawn. “It would make it easier for both of us if all your stuff was there.” It isn’t until he realizes that you’re frozen in place that he opens his eyes. “Or not, just a thought.”

You stammer an excuse, hoping to alleviate the tension that’s suddenly lingering between you. “I just- I don’t know if we’re there yet.”

“I didn’t mean to rush you, just thought I’d offer.” He shrugs before pulling you close again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper into his chest.

“Don’t be. You’re right, it’s too soon for that.”

You’ve been together for a year now, you almost never sleep apart, if anything you should have moved in six months ago.

What’s stopping you?

You’ve been distancing yourself from any concrete commitments for sometime now and even if he never says it you know it bothers him. When do you stop punishing him for something you claim you’ve forgiven him for? He doesn’t hurt people as often anymore, at least he’s trying harder not to. But it’s getting hard for the both of you to keep up this system of locking yourselves in his room for a week every month.

Sometimes your cycle syncs with Maria and Sarah has to drive in from out of town to watch Ellie, it’s just generally become harder to manage.

But you can’t leave him when he’s like that.

On the rare occasion that you’re too exhausted to stay awake and entertain him he’ll end up in the woods and a massacred corpse ends up on your table when you return to work.

Everytime you think you’ve found forgiveness and acceptance you’re reminded of the fact that you love a monster. A selfish choice that you make every day. And everytime you tell him you can’t live with the guilt he gives you the same option.

Kill him.

You’re sure he doesn’t mean to make it sound so grim, each of you have complicated relationships with death. You just don’t think you’ll be able to live without him, and it’s not like he expects you to kill him yourself, he always tells you he’ll handle it with Tommy but you always shoot the idea down and you’re back to square one.

“I just need a little more time, I promise this isn’t forever.” You mumble as you sit up.

“I’d do anything for you, anything at all. Just tell me what to do.”

You don’t doubt that. But he still doesn’t give you what you actually want, all you ask of him is options that don’t involve him, or any more innocent people, on your cadaver cart.

The bed is empty when you wake up.

You knew it would be when you went to bed alone last night but a part of you, after all this time, still feels incomplete when the sheets beside you are cold. The creaking under the floorboards is the only noise in the house.

Your alarm clock reads 6:58 a.m. and you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you need to be up so you throw the blankets aside, stretch your arms above your head, and stand. Right on cue you hear the familiar stomping down the hall before your door swings open, Ellie rubs her eyes before scurrying over to you. Her hair’s in disarray, having fallen out of the braid you put it in last night, you scoop her up into your arms, trying to smooth the mess down.

“Good morning, little monster.” You mumble, kissing her cheek before carrying her down the hall and into the kitchen. You can’t help but wonder how much longer she’ll be small enough to hold like this. She’s already almost too heavy for you to lift for this long, and the living room and kitchen are still decorated with banners and deflating balloons from her sixth birthday party yesterday.

Kids birthdays, elementary school, home owning?

Even after a couple years it’s still a little dizzying that this is your life now. You set her down at the table, retrieving the generic sugary cereal you’ve grown fond of from the cabinet along with bowls, spoons, and milk, setting them down on the table in front of her.

“Can I feed the sheep before we go?” She says before reaching for her spoon, you nod.

“If you brush your teeth without giving me a hard time.” You fill your bowls, you have to remind her to slow down a few times as she shovels cereal into her mouth, eager to go out to the barn. You’re only halfway through your bowl when she runs off in the direction of her room.

You hear the telltale sounds of her pushing her step stool across the tile of the bathroom as she rummages through the cabinet. As you finish up your own food and tidy up you make a mental list of everything you need to do today.

Get Ellie ready for school.

Tend to the sheep.

Drive Ellie to school.

You take your phone out of your sweatpants pocket, 7:16, and text Maria to make sure they’re still good to take her this weekend. Ellie hums as she brushes her teeth when you peer into the bathroom before making your way into your own room, changing quickly, you’ve got about an hour before you need to leave.

Drive Ellie to daycare.

Grocery shopping.

Oil change.

Making lists helps. You like knowing what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it, you’ve had enough surprises in your life, you don’t like when the routine changes. Without your routine you’d lose yourself entirely. Ellie helps, she likes structure as much as you do, you stand behind her in the bathroom now watching her finish up and making sure she did a good job. The sparkling stone on the counter catches your eye, a reminder that you’re constantly forgetting your ring. It’s a bit much for your taste but it’s a family heirloom and Joel insisted. Sliding it onto your finger as Ellie hands it to you.

Check on Ellie.

Clean the house.

Make dinner.

Before she can run back to her room you gently pull her back by the collar of her shirt, grabbing a hair tie off the counter you tie her hair in a ponytail before letting her go get dressed. By the time she’s ready you’ve got your jacket on, holding Ellie’s coat out for her to stick her arms through the sleeves. She already has a toothy grin plastered on her face as you both step out of the sliding doors leading to the backyard. You take her hand, knowing she’ll run ahead if given the chance, you know better than to let her out of her sight.

Dangerous things live in the woods of Honey.

She’s pulling you along through the short path between the trees leading to the barn with a fence surrounding it. Once you’re in the clearing you let her run ahead, once you’re able to see everything around you. The air is icy and damp as you follow after her, opening the gate as she slips under the fence. The sun is just starting to break through the trees, it’s still too cold for the sheep to be out, there isn’t much exposed grass for them to eat anyway. You’ve been keeping them in the barn most days unless it warms up, today isn’t one of those days. With a high pitched giggle Ellie rushes inside, you hear the familiar sounds of bleating as she greets all of them by name.

You watch in momentary silence as you make your own way into the barn, enjoying her little smile that warms up the freezing barn.

“Did you turn in your project yesterday?” You sit on a hay bale, watching her run amongst the sheep before turning to you, nose red from the chill. You hadn’t gotten to ask her about it since you’d been so busy with her party, it wasn’t really a “project.” Just a little assignment for the kids in her class, to draw something important to them.

Of course Ellie had wanted to draw her father, something you were happy to help with until she held the crayon in her fist and began to draw the sharp angles and pointed claws that you realized she couldn’t show it off to her class. You let her finish the drawing. It’s remarkable really, how someone so small and vulnerable can portray such a frightening creature without fear.

She loves him, that’s why.

You love him too but that doesn’t mean he didn’t terrify you. No amount of strange magical connection was going to change the fact that he scared you. The difference of course is that Ellie doesn’t know what he’s done. You had encouraged her to draw a background, concealing the mass of flesh and teeth in darkness and trees until only the two of you knew what hid behind the blue and green. Together you decided that it was a drawing of her favorite place. The national forest on the edge of town.

“Good, Riley guessed what it was though.” She says as she pats one of the lambs gently on the back.

“She guessed it was the Manangahela National Forest?” You give her a skeptical smile as she fills a bucket with feed before emptying it into the trough.

“Monongahela.” She corrects you proudly.

After all this time, you still never get it right.

“Smart ass.” You grumble under your breath as she carefully lifts the hose, filling the water buckets.

“Ass.” She says with a grin.

“Don’t say that.” You point at her sternly, stifling a laugh.

With a small huff she turns the hose off and rushes over to sit beside you and watch them.

“She said the forest was my favorite so it was easy.” She mumbles, briefly captivated by the sheep.

“She’s a good friend for knowing that.” You like Riley, you’ve watched the two girls play together several times before, she’s a good influence on Ellie as far as you can tell.

“Mhmm.” She hums, the silence returning between the two of you as you both watch the sheep.

You don’t tell her that you’re going to butcher one of them tonight.

You know that she can handle it. At this point in her life she can handle much more than any other six year old you’ve ever met but you just aren’t ready for that sort of thing yet. You haven’t been a parent long enough to know the proper way to go about that sort of thing.

“Time for school, kiddo.” You stand up abruptly and take her hand again, watching as she yells back to the sheep, saying goodbye to each and everyone of them.

The truck sits idly in the driveway but you ignore it, opening the door of your own car, Ellie throws her backpack in before climbing in herself. It was the first thing you’d bought with Darlene’s money. (The second thing you did was help Sarah with her student loans and put aside some for Ellie.) You hated driving the truck, it was too big and too loud, this just felt safer for driving Ellie around. Once she’s buckled into her seat you make your way over to the driver's side. The radio plays some rock song that immediately has her squealing in the backseat, with a grin you turn it up as you pull out of the driveway.

“Is she my mom now?”

You had been walking past Ellie’s room after your shower, wearing one of Joel’s flannels with the towel wrapped around your hair when her voice froze you in place, her bedroom door cracked open.

“That’s not exactly how that works, kiddo.” His voice has a nervous lilt to it you don’t often hear from him.

“Then why is she always here?” She sits up a bit and you hold your breath as Joel’s brow furrows.

“Is that a problem?” God you hope not.

“No, I like her.” The tension in his face relaxes with your own.

“I’m glad you do. I like her too.”

“So when will she become my mom?” Her persistence on the issue makes you feel as awkward as he currently looks.

“She’ll become your mom if she wants that. But that probably won’t happen until we’re married, and I don’t know if she wants that yet either.” There’s a beat of silence, you’re heart skipping a beat at the earnestness of the conversation. The silence is quickly interrupted by the little one screaming your name as you rush back to the bathroom, opening and shutting the door to try and make it seem like you hadn’t been listening.

“Yes, little monster?” You make a real show of stepping loudly down the hall as you push the door open. You’re greeted by the sight of Ellie trying to wriggle out of a rather flustered Joel’s arms, face red and flushed as he tries to shove her under her blankets.

“She’s just messin’ around.” He grumbles before throwing a pillow at the giggling mess.

Her voice calling your name from the backseat snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What’s up?” You turn the music down as you glance at her in the rearview mirror.

“Can Riley come over today after school if her mom says it’s okay?”

“You’re going to Uncle Tommy’s tonight, love. I’ll text her mom and see if she’s okay with picking her up from there if he gets you guys after school. Does that sound okay?” She nods happily when you look in the mirror before going back to singing along with the radio. When you pull up to the parent drop off you get out of the car to unbuckle her, kneeling down in front of her as she pulls her backpack straps over shoulders.

“Can we have a birthday party with Dad when he gets back?” She tilts her head to the side as she asks, you lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before pulling her into a hug.

“Absolutely we can.” You give her a soft smile before her attention is diverted towards a group of her friends. “Be good today, I love you.”

“Love you, bye!” She leans in to give you a kiss on your own cheek before rushing off, you watch her go, waiting until she’s in the building before getting back in the car. You send a quick text to Riley’s mom and Maria, scheduling plans for the girls before putting the car in drive as you head off towards a neighboring town. Honey has a grocery store but on days like this where you have so much free time you like to go to the nicer ones out of town.

You turn the radio off now that it’s just you, cranking the heat to keep warm as you drive in silence.

“We should get married.” You had brought the idea up, much to his surprise. About a year ago, as you were setting up for Ellie’s fifth birthday party, a year after you’d finally moved in.

“Are you serious?” He had been laying on his back, under the camper, working on the more technical aspects of the project. In his shock he’d rolled himself back out to stare at you.

Why wouldn’t you be? Sure, it took a lot of effort on his part but you finally feel like you’ve stopped holding everything against him. You had hoped that he knew that by now.

“Why not? Everyone already thinks we are, everyone at Ellie’s school calls her my daughter, Tommy’s been teasing me about it for ages-” He pulls himself to his feet, quickly putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Bunny, slow down.” He’s getting flustered, you swear his drawl is thicker when he gets like this.

“You’re the one who always says I take things too slow.” You frown, turning back to the flowers you’d been planting in the boxes under the window but he turns you back around to face him.

“You mean it?” His voice is a whisper and you quickly realize how much this means to him.

“Of course, I mean, we’re going to spend our lives together anyway, why wait.” You give him a reassuring smile as you tilt your head to kiss his cheek, briefly letting yourself indulge in the taste of his skin before pulling back. “As much as I’d love to talk about this more, we should get back to work if we want to finish this before she’s home.”

He doesn’t say anything else about it as he goes back to running the electrical under the camper and you can’t help but wonder if you crossed a line. Thankfully you’re on a time crunch to finish this and your mind is kept busy.

The two of you work in silence, almost synchronized as you move from task to task. He brings the cinder blocks out and lines the camper, creating a semi-permanent foundation as you string fairy lights along the outside and finish up planting flowers around the entire thing. Joel attaches the small porch he and Tommy made a few weeks ago that you had painted as you step inside. It’s unrecognizable after all the work the two of you put into it. The ceiling now painted a dark blue, glow in the dark paint dotted along the entire thing, when the sun goes down she’ll be able to see the stars from inside the camper. You painted the walls and changed out the curtains and sheets more to Ellie’s tastes. She’d always loved it here, when Joel was actually busy with work trips she’d stay with you in the camper. Even nowadays with you living with her and Joel she still often asks if she can play in the camper.

Just as you’re finishing up Joel steps inside as well, testing all of the faucets while wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.

“Think she’ll like it?” You ask, your fingers nervously twitch as you roll the hem of your shirt between them, he laughs as he leans back against the counter.

“She’s gonna love it, s’better than any gift I’ve ever gotten her.” You can’t help but smile as he holds his arms out towards you, you quickly step into them, leaning against his chest and taking a deep breath.

You open your mouth to speak, wanting to address your proposition from earlier quickly so it doesn’t hang in the air for too long but you hear the familiar rumble of Tommy’s truck pulling into the driveway and the two of you quickly rush out of the camper and down the steps. You straighten the bow on the door and quickly lock it. You hear Ellie’s laughter as she runs around the side of the house, Tommy and Maria walking up behind her.

She’s excited to see both of you, a paper crown announcing her birthday adorns her head as she runs up to hug her father. The second she sees the camper though she darts right past him.

“Why’s this here?” She yells excitedly, she knows exactly why it’s here instead of sitting stagnant on the piece of property you sold just a few days ago. You smile at Joel, nodding towards her as he leans down to pick her up.

“She got you a little birthday present, since you’ve been so nice to her and let her come live with us.” He points at you as she immediately starts squirming out of his grasp, tossing her backpack aside as she runs up the little porch steps. She turns around to look at you with a huge smile on her face.

“Are you fucking serious?” She screams. You can’t help it as a laugh slips out of you, thankfully Tommy can’t hold it together either as Joel immediately breaks into a lecture you nudge his shoulder as you hand her the key.

“It’s her birthday, she’s allowed to say it on her birthday.” You murmur through your continued laughter. She wraps her arms around your legs, hugging you tightly before turning around and unlocking the door. “Happy birthday, Ellie.”

She had loved her party, thankfully. And she loved her new playhouse much to your relief.

You and Joel laid on opposite sides of her as her little snores filled the camper, she had wanted a campout as a birthday treat and you were both more than willing to oblige. You’re staring up at the faintly glowing stars painted on the ceiling when he sets the box down next to you. You grab it, wanting to ask him more but not wanting to wake Ellie up you open it.

And you’re met with a ridiculously gorgeous ring.

Clearly an heirloom but he’s recently had it polished, one large diamond framed by two smaller ones on either side of it. Your eyes are wide as you stare down at it, shimmering in the moon light before sharply turning your head to the man with a dopey smile lying across from you.

“Been carrying that around for a while now, if I’d known you were ready I would’a asked sooner.” His voice is low as Ellie stirs a bit and you both freeze as she rolls over closer to her father.

Neither one of you speaks again, but the look on your face as you put the ring on was answer enough.

The beeping brings you back to reality as you scan every item in the self checkout lane.

You’re only feeding yourself while Ellie’s with Maria and Tommy, so you keep it simple. Another box of cereal, milk, an apple, a loaf of bread and deli meats. You’re pretty sure you have enough cheese and other essentials to get you through the rest of the weekend. On your way up to the checkout counter you grab a bag of dark roast coffee beans and a box of tampons.

You’re out of both.

You know you live in memories too often, especially without Joel to keep you in reality. You find him in the past when he isn’t beside you because something needs to fill the aching void that yearns for his smell, his taste, and his touch. And echoes of Joel are almost as good as the real thing. There’s a funny comfort you find in memories. Even unhappy ones. There’s no surprises in memories, you know what’s going to happen and you know you survived it.

Even the bad memories bring you comfort when he isn’t around to do it himself.

You pay quickly, loading everything into the cooler in the car as you head off in the direction of your mechanic. When you park you’re told it’ll take about fifteen minutes, nodding as you sit in the waiting room, where your mind inevitably wanders to one of the worst memories in the hours following your meeting in the Applebees that has since closed.

You didn’t pay attention to the road.

Instead you stared at your hands in your lap as he drove, not bothering with the radio, the two of you stewing in your silence as he pulled into the driveway. You didn’t even unbuckle your seatbelt, he had come around the truck and done that for you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you bridal style up the porch steps and into the house, only stopping to kick the door shut before bringing you to his room, clicking on the lamp he hadn’t bothered to remove, and setting you on the mattress.

He lays down beside you, taking your face in his hands but you immediately recoil, pushing him away.

“What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness? To show you I’m sorry? Cause I don’t see a point to any of this if it’s never going to happen, it’ll be better for both of us if we know where we stand.” He’s right, unfortunately. Neither one of you deserves to waste the other's time if this is going to mean nothing.

If you can’t forgive him.

“Can you at least let me love you? Do you think you can manage that?” His voice is dangerously close to cracking and you have to pray that he doesn’t break. If he can’t hold it together you know you won’t be able to either. “Neither one of us wants to deal with this but we don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, you really don’t know so why answer with anything else?

“I don’t even need a concrete answer, bunny. I just need to know if someday you’re going to be able to forgive me. I can’t live a life where you keep me at arms length.”

You hadn’t responded. Just slid closer to him.

And you let him hold you until you fell asleep, hoping that would be enough.

Your phone buzzing is what snaps you out of your empty thoughts this time. When you open the notification you’re met with a message from Maria, a photo of Tommy sleeping in the recliner, Ellie sitting in his lap, and Riley sitting on the arm of the chair, watching whatever movie they put on the T.V.

[ Made it back from school. Watching Treasure Planet. ]

[ love it ] [ thanks again for taking them ]

The mechanic returns shortly after, handing you your keys and telling you you’re good to go. The hour drive back isn’t terrible, you opt to listen to music on the way back. It’s quiet when you return home. Putting away the groceries and making yourself a sandwich as you look around the cluttering remnants of the party yesterday, the only sounds are your chewing and the soft creaking and scratching from under the floorboards.

Joel has so much pride for your home. He would hate it if he knew how dirty it was currently, the thought alone has you reaching for an empty trash bag once you’re finished eating.

You turn all the lights on as the sun starts to set, how much time did you spend daydreaming today? You try not to think too hard about it as you start cleaning up the plastic cups and paper plates that litter every surface of the living room, popping deflating balloons and sweeping up discarded streamers and confetti. There’s a feeling of solace that comes with cleaning the house, making it feel like home once more.

This isn’t just Joel’s house now, it’s yours as well, even if you thought this would never be the case.

“I know that you shot down the idea last time but I want to show you something.”

“Joel, I just don’t think…” Your voice trails off as you stare at the key ring he’s holding out towards you. If you can’t guarantee that he won’t hurt people you can’t share a home with him, it’s stupid and it makes you feel childish but you can’t come home to him knowing people are still dying, even if you can’t stay away from him.

“Just give me a chance to show you.” He puts the keys back into his pocket before taking your hand. Walking you down the hall towards his room, he stops briefly to check in on Ellie, still tucked into her own bed as you peer into her room before he closes her door quietly. “I don’t want you to think that a life with me is going to be only horrors, and I know that a part of you has already resigned yourself to such a thing but you don’t deserve that.” You’re about to interrupt him, tell him that’s not true despite the ache in your chest that tells you he’s right but he’s opening his own bedroom door and you’re too busy staring slack jawed inside.

It’s unrecognizable from the monster cage he’d created for himself.

Instead of resting bare and on the floor, the mattress has sheets and now rests on a low to the ground metal frame. The photos that were once taped to the wall are now in frames or pinned to a bulletin board he hung up.

He put a rug down that covers any claw marks on the floor and he’s done his best to hang up photos and paintings over the scratches on the walls. There’s even furniture now, a nightstand on either side of the bed with a matching dresser, lamps scattered around the room make the space feel warm and lived in.

“You- you did all this?”

“If you live with me I don’t want you to have to sleep in some sort of creepy homemade dungeon, you deserve an actual bedroom.” He whispers as you look at the paintings on the wall, all of them are Alice in Wonderland themed. “I borrowed those from Sarah’s room, we can change them out when- if you move in.” He quickly mumbles as you look up at a painting of Alice staring into a lake, her own image being reflected back up at her.

“It’s lovely, it’s perfect Joel.” You turn back to him as he rubs the back of his neck bashfully.

“This ain’t it, there's a few more surprises for you.” The shocked look remains on your face as he takes your hand once more, bringing you back into the kitchen and out the sliding glass door.

You had run outside without shoes on and took down the banner hanging on the camper before rushing back in and tossing it in the trash bag. When you look at the clock it’s just a couple minutes from 7:00 p.m. You bring the bag out to the porch before washing your hands.

You don’t bother taking a shower as you change into your pajamas, setting your ring on your nightstand, not wanting to risk damaging it as you pull up a pair of sweats you don’t care about being ruined and an old shirt you wore when you painted the bathroom a month ago. Grabbing the apple off the counter you shove it into your sweatpants pocket. Shooting Maria one last text and turning your phone on do not disturb, you tell her to say goodnight to Ellie for you before slipping your sneakers on and heading out the back door once more.

You don’t like going to the barn alone, and you should have put on a proper jacket, without the sun to warm you, your skin prickles with goosebumps. The dark doesn’t frighten you very much anymore, and it’s easy to follow the familiar path even in the dark. Your phone flashlight illuminates the ground in front of you as you walk, you’re trying to remember if there is a specific sheep Ellie isn’t attached to.

Most of the flock is sleeping save for a few stragglers, you decide not to overthink it, grabbing a lead and putting it over the head of the first sheep that’s brave enough to greet you. The unlucky winner is one of the older sheep, making its way over to you the second you open the gate. You reward her bravery with the apple in your pocket, the only sounds in the quiet night are those of chewing as you walk her back towards the house.

You swung your intertwined hands between the two of you as you walked through the trees behind his house. He must have worked startlingly fast to do that for you, no ones ever put in that sort of effort for you before.

The sun is just starting to set behind you as he takes a step back and covers your eyes.

“Hey-” You start to object with a giggle as he continues walking you forward.

“Oh hush, let this be a surprise.” He chuckles as he leads you further down the path before stopping abruptly and lifting his hands. “Surprise.” He whispers, taking a step back.

“Woah.” You exhale in shock as you stare at the barn in front of you. A white fence surrounding it.

It’s beautiful.

“Tommy and I grew up on a farm, we can raise whatever you want, pigs, sheep, chickens, anything you want.” He mumbles as he wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek.

“I love that idea, but can I ask why?” You let out a nervous laugh as you turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s actually a part of your last surprise.”

“Another?” Your voice pitches up, he built you a fucking barn, what else could he have done for you?

“I want you to know how serious I am about you moving in, I don’t want you to have any doubt.” He mumbles against your temple, inhaling deeply before pulling away and taking your hand one more time. “Come on.” He pulls you back towards the house as the sun sets for good, you walk in the darkness until he brings you to the basement entrance and pulls out the keys he’d offered you.

Several locks adorn the basement entrance, you sift through your key ring until you find each lock's respective key, letting them drop into the grass as you remove each one. When you swing the heavy metal doors open you’re met with the welcoming warmth that comes from below. Several lamps and space heaters create a warm glow that beckons you down the steps. Almost immediately the sheep pulls away, bleating fearfully. Animals are far more intelligent than anyone gives them credit for, they know when something is wrong.

You pull her down with you then reach up and let the doors slam down, sealing the poor thing in its tomb with you.

You drop the lead once the doors are closed, there’s no point in leading the lamb any closer to the inevitable slaughter.

“I have loved you since I first saw you in that bar. I have loved you every moment since, you could be cruel and terrible and I’d love you still and I’d probably deserve it. But you aren’t. You’re smart, and you care about everything, and you love everyone even if they aren’t worthy of it.” His hands caress your face as he whispers into the night air. “And you feel so much guilt for the things I do even though you shouldn’t. You can forgive me for all that I’ve done but it won’t change the fact that I’m still doing terrible things. I’ve done terrible things for so long that I didn’t really consider any other options, but you deserve other options.”

He pulls open the basement doors once all the locks are undone, and offers his hand to you.

“I want to show you that I can change, that I would do anything you need me to do, be anything you need me to be.”

It’s your choice, take it or leave, he won’t hold it against you if you crack and can’t handle it anymore. But you need him to keep yourself together in the first place so you take his calloused hand in yours and let him lead you down into the darkness.

The smell of vanilla and pine is dense down here.

As you descend further down the steps you see the familiar set up, a few lamps and lanterns are scattered throughout the darkness as well as a couple space heaters that are only there for your benefit. A mattress you insist on putting sheets on is pushed against one of the scratched up walls, the blankets and pillows scattered about the space, you walk over to the mess, picking up the scattered quilts as you throw everything back down on the mattress. You can feel the movement behind you, the scratching against the cement as you lay down, even with the heaters it’s cold. Thankfully you know you’ll be warm enough soon.

The panicked baa’s of the sheep are swiftly silenced, replaced with the wet tearing sound that once would have filled you with dread. It’s a bit morbid how comforting you now find them, you roll over as you pull another blanket up over yourself, watching the iron chains drag across the floor as the unseen figure pulls them in different directions.

You can see movement dancing on the edges of the lamp light, the smell of blood is almost as prominent now as the suffocating sweetness. A smile begins to tease the corners of your mouth as you hear him moving closer, the familiar, gravely voice that calls out from the dark recesses of the basement fills your ears like warm honey.

“C’mere, bunny.”

a/n : that's a wrap on oh honey folks, once again im sorry i made yall wait so long, i hope it was worth it <3

i no longer have a tag list but for fic updates follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey #fic : oh honey

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poppitron360 · 7 months ago

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Doing a clearout of all my fanfic WIPs so have this one I wrote back in, like, April.

————————————

Leo woke, blinking in the bright sun.

“Wha- What happened?”

He was lying on the wet grass outside Bunker 9. A bunch of his cabin mates, Piper, and Jason were all crowded around him. There was one of those arm thingies around his bicep, and Will Solace, the head healer in the Apollo cabin, was checking his blood pressure, a First Aid kid lay open next to him on the grass.

“You just… collapsed,” Piper said. Her expression was worried.

“Huh?”

“I don’t think it’s anything too serious,” Will concluded, “your cabin-mates tell me you haven’t left the workshop in three days. You’ve been working non-stop all week. You’re exhausted, man.”

Leo sat up, and rubbed his head, “I feel fine,” he lied.

“Well, your vital signs are okay. Not great, but you’re not dying,” Will took off the blood pressure thingy, and closed his med kit, “Your temperature’s higher than it should be, though.”

“Nah, that’s normal for me,” Leo admitted, “I’m fire boy, remember?”

Will sighed, “Well then, I’m prescribing you three days off. Get some rest, dude, and when was the last time you ate something?”

Leo ignored his question, “Three days! But I’ve got work to do! The Argo II won’t build itself, and-“

“We’ll handle it, don’t worry,” one of his siblings said.

“But-“

“Leo,” Will’s tone was stern, and Leo knew he wasn’t taking no for an answer, “Doctor’s Orders. Now, Jason’s gonna take you back to camp, get you some food.”

Jason came closer, and offered his hand, “Can you stand?”

Leo groaned, ignored Jason’s hand, and stood up by himself.

“Honestly, guys, I’m fine.”

He didn’t like everyone fussing over him like this. He wasn’t a baby. He could handle himself.

Jason grabbed him by the shoulders, and steered him towards Camp. Piper followed. Leo tried to struggle and protest, but Jason’s grip on him tightened. He was strong, or maybe Leo was just really weak.

Will nodded at the other Hephaestus kids, and they went back inside.

“And just because he’s head counsellor, doesn’t mean y’all should go following his example,” Will called after them, “The infirmary is already crowded enough without a bunch of campers who have overworked themselves half to death.”

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twstwinnie · 2 years ago

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Hello, i just discovered this blog and i really want to read your work more. If you don't mind can i request malleus x reader where reader feeling empty or brunedout due to study and overblots. You can edit it as you like or write as headcanon or one short it depends on you. Well have nice day/night.

♚ Tea for the Prefect : Malleus Draconia

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, burnout, reader is the prefect, gn! reader, ch.5 spoilers!

desc: upon noticing your growing distress, malleus takes matters into his own hands and bestows a gift of relaxation upon you. sleep well, dear prefect.

a/n: finally being more consistent with posts!! thank you for the request! I thought this was a lovely concept and a great opportunity for some lovely stress comfort fluff! also, I love writing for malleus! the reader in this is the prefect, but the reader is not explicitly yuu! with that, enjoy! — winnie <3

Time is fleeting, whether he likes it or not.

Such is a fact that Malleus is painfully aware of. Every day that passes is but a fraction of his extended lifespan.

That is until he met you.

Most people talk about time flying when one’s having fun, but for Malleus, time slows when he’s with you. Being in your presence reminds him of all the little things life has to offer. Despite his extended lifespan, he chooses to live in the present nowadays simply because you’re a part of it.

That being said, he’s still able to pick up on things when they happen so suddenly.

Like your fatigue.

Malleus is unaware if your fatigue slowly built up in terms of a human lifespan, but to a fae like him, it seemed almost immediate. However, he knows full well that it isn’t without reason.

After Ashengrotto’s overblot, he conversed with you out of curiosity, questioning how you used the advice he’d given you earlier. That’s when he learned that you’d been handling student overblots since your arrival on campus. Lilia further confirmed this fact, noting your involvement in Kingscholar’s overblot as well.

He didn’t realize how emotionally taxing it must’ve been until recently.

After Schoenheit was pulled from his overblotted state, Malleus appeared. He witnessed the aftermath firsthand.

More importantly, he could see the exhaustion in your eyes. He noticed the way you tiredly limped backstage once he’d repaired the stadium, and saw the way you brushed off your situation.

When he asked you about it, you insisted that it was nothing.

After that conversation, many things clicked into place for him. Not only did you deal with these treacherous battles without the use of magic, but you did so in tandem with your studies and other responsibilities. You had an incredible amount on your plate and everyone seemed content to continuously pile more and more atop it. He had to wonder if you truly ever allowed yourself the opportunity to rest.

Malleus, in good conscience, cannot sit by and allow you to remain in a perpetual state of stress and exhaustion. You’re precious to him, his dearest treasure, and if he can prevent you from losing your luster, he will.

Given your mortal lifespan is already so limited, he refuses to watch you crash and burn out.

So, he decides he’ll lend you some much needed assistance.

After a week of testing and schoolwork, the weekend finally arrives. The first thing Malleus does is convince Grim to stay at Diasomnia for the weekend. Silver (and, begrudgingly, Sebek) agree to watch over the small feline. A promise of food is all it takes.

Then, Malleus gathers various things he remembers that you like from your various conversations: tea, biscuits, warm blankets, and a book about gargoyles that you’d wanted to borrow from him.

With that, he sets off to your dorm, announcing that he’ll return the following morning. The fae certainly hopes you won’t mind him spending the night. Either way, he merely wants you to relax. Surely, you won’t turn him away.

Upon arrival, he knocks curtly on the door. While he typically preferred strolls around the quiet forests of Ramshackle, he didn’t mind having a day in at your request. You seem to enjoy cozy things when stressed, so he hopes this is enough.

You soon answer the door, a panicked expression on your face. “Tsunotaro! Have you seen Grim? He ran off earlier, and he didn’t say anything!” you insist. Malleus gives you a simple smile.

“He’s spending time with Silver and Sebek at Diasomnia. My apologies, I thought he left you a message. He’ll be there for the weekend,” Malleus explains. You heave out a relieved sigh, leaning against the door frame.

“Thank the Seven! He really needs to tell me before he runs off… but wait. Really? He’s staying at Diasomnia? Are you sure you don’t mind…?” you ask nervously. Malleus chuckles and shakes his head.

“Lilia is in charge for the weekend. I assure you, he can handle a few unruly creatures. He quite likes the challenge, actually. He doesn’t mind,” Malleus starts. “Actually, I was hoping you’d allow me to stay with you. I’d enjoy your company.”

You regard him with wide eyes for a moment before stepping aside. “Sure, I don’t mind. Come in,” you say. “Ah, but it’s a bit of a mess. I’m sorry— it’s been a hectic week.”

Malleus walks in and glances around. Sure enough, it’s a bit disorganized. Papers are strewn across the floor and judging by the mess of blankets by the table, he’s certain that you’ve been sleeping while studying.

“No need to offer apologies to me, Prefect. Actually, it’s fitting for the topic of conversation I wanted to bring up.” Malleus continues, “from what I’ve noticed, you seem overwhelmed. I’ve even heard that you’ve been falling asleep in class. Are you resting properly?”

He watches as you deflate, walking over to the couch and sinking down into it. With a sigh, you respond.

“I’m glad someone noticed. I’m exhausted, Tsunotaro. Our useless Headmage doesn’t help with overblots or money, so I’ve been working at the Lounge on top of everything else—

“Not to mention, I need to help Grim study so he doesn’t get caught in any dealings with Azul again. With everything going on, I hardly have time to sleep! I’m so tired… I’m really sorry, Malleus. I’ve been so busy that I’ve hardly had time to spend talking with you,” you mumble sadly. Malleus walks over and seats himself next to you.

“Why apologize to me, dear Prefect?” he questions. You huff and lean against him, shutting your eyes.

“I actually enjoy your company, but I’ve been so busy. I’ve skipped so many of our usual late night walks. I miss spending time with you,” you express. Malleus can’t help but give a fond smile in response. He gently runs his fingers through your hair as he hums.

“I’ve felt deprived of your company, but I’ve never once blamed you for such a thing. Don’t you think you’re the last person who owes anyone else an apology? You’re an unwilling participant in all the messes you find yourself in,” Malleus mentions. You sigh quietly.

“That’s true, but if I don’t take care of the overblots, who will? We both know Crowley won’t do a thing,” you mutter, a tinge of bitterness in your tone. Malleus chuckles lightly.

“Forgive me if it came off in this manner, but I wasn’t suggesting that you change your ways. I quite like you the way you are now, even with your needless prying into dangerous trouble,” he teases lightly. “All I’m requesting is that, when you find it’s too much to bear on your own, you allow me to take care of you.”

You pause. Met with silence, Malleus turns to face you, shocked to find your face red with fluster. You let out a shaky breath and smile, looking down.

“Don’t say things so cryptically like that, Tsunotaro. If you do, someone might mistake it for a confession, y’know,” you mumble under your breath. Malleus regards you with a gentle expression, placing a finger on your chin and lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“Perhaps I wish for it to be taken in such a way. Have you considered that? If you’d prefer me to properly court you in order to be convinced, I don’t mind. Though, I thought it’d be best to inform you of my intentions at the very least,” he says with a smirk. You find yourself speechless, unable to tear your eyes away from his gaze.

Malleus awaits your response patiently, and once you find your bearings, you sputter out a response.

“I-I’ve never considered that, but I’d be happy to accept your feelings,” you whisper. “Oh, but no courting— please, I can only handle so much embarrassment. I don’t wanna know how far you’d go if I let you court me.”

Malleus smiles, leaning in to peck your lips softly before pulling back. “I’d only go as far as fae tradition allows. Alas, I’ll respect your wishes. If you accept my feelings, will you allow me to take care of you?” he asks. You return his smile and nod.

“Please. I’d appreciate it, Tsunotaro,” you say. With your permission, Malleus quickly gets to work.

A quick spell organizes the disarray that was once your lounging area. Then, he steeps the tea and prepares the snacks that he brought. He refuses to let you lift a finger to assist, insisting that you remain seated.

Once he pours you a cup, he’s happy to see the way your tense frame relaxes as you take a sip. Your dull eyes regain their shine as you both chatter away about whatever you please.

When he notices you yawn one too many times, he carries you to bed, much to your embarrassment. After changing into more comfortable clothing, he joins you in bed.

Sitting up, he allows you to wrap your arms around his waist and lay in his lap. In one of his hands, he holds the book you’d wanted to borrow, reading the contents aloud to you. With his other free hand, he gently runs away the knots in your back.

Malleus glances down every couple of minutes. Your expression of bliss and comfort brings warmth to his heart. It’s a far cry from your exhaustion earlier, the bags beneath your eyes slowly fading away.

“Mm… Tsunotaro. ‘m gonna fall asleep soon,” you mumble tiredly. Malleus hums in acknowledgment, shutting the book and setting it on the nightstand.

“Then sleep, my dear,” he insists, idly running his fingers through your hair. You shift your body to look up at him.

“Will you stay here? Please?” you ask. Malleus smiles, leaning down to kiss you gently.

“As promised earlier, I’ll remain by your side. When you awaken, I will be here to greet you, so fret not,” he assured gently. You grin, leaning up to steal another kiss before laying back down.

“Alright then. Good night, Malleus. And thank you for helping me.”

Malleus smiles.

“Of course. You needn’t thank me. You’re my dearest treasure, and these simple things are merely proof of that,” he says. He watches quietly as you quietly drift off into slumber, your built up exhaustion finally catching up with you. Smiling, he leans down and kisses your forehead gently, whispering one last thing before falling asleep by your side.

“Good night, dear prefect.”

— fin.

#twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fanfic #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst oneshot #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #winnie-writes #winnie-wishes

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opiopal · 7 months ago

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This is a more serious version of one of my other posts! The whole idea is that, for a short amount of time, Mc strongly feels the sin of the brother they newly made a pact with, Og post here! ⬇️

(It gets a little suggestive when it gets to asmo’s, and violence is mentioned with satans,)

After forming a pact with Mammon Mc can’t help but feel drawn to anything shiny or glimmery for a week, which leads to only a little bit of theft. They can’t help themselves! Everything just looks so appealing all of a sudden!!! And I’m sure mammon is ZERO help when it comes to Mc trying to control themselves, they try to tell him that their feel greedy but is only met with encouragement.

Mc: that thing over there is shiny.

Mammon: yeah?

Mc: …. I want it.

Mammon: go for it! I ain’t stopping ya!

After making a pact with Belphie they’re so so SO insanely sluggish, since they already have the other pacts and are more familiar with the after effects of making one, they’re able to power through it for a few days. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t falling asleep in class or even falling asleep standing. Which probably leads to whoever is near by having to just scoop them up and bring them back to the HOL… but I’m sure it’s usually beel or Lucifer since I can imagine the brothers bickering about who should get to carry Mc.

After making a pact with Beel they, of course, are insanely gluttonous. Beel ends up feeling a small tinge of guilt at this so he tries to offer Mc some of his own food. But it just leads to the both of them being hungry, since Mc just can’t help themselves but eat and eat and eat and maybe get a little hangry. After a few days it wears off and Mc is definitely in a food coma for a day or two, cramping and in pain. And Mc also understands beel just a bit more, so I can imagine that’s when Mc decided to start carrying around snacks with them for beel.

Mc: I’m hungry..

Beel, offering a bag of chips: want a bite?

Mc, accidentally takes nearly all the chips in one handful: … sorry,

Beel: :(

After making a pact with satan Mc is just.. so irritated by everything that MOVES. Accidentally snapping occasionally, scolding Mammon for leaving his stuff in their room, glaring daggers at asmo for making a flirty joke, Barging into Levi’s room late at night to yell at him to stop screaming at his computer so loud while gaming, ect. So Mc probably finds themselves ranting to satan a lot since he’s the only one that won’t look at them like they’re mental for threatening someone’s life over something as small as a pencil.

Satan, listening to Mc rant: and so what did you do after that?

Mc, still red in the face: I kicked the jackass in the nuts obviously!!!

Satan, nodding in approval: I wouldn’t have handled it any differently.

After making a pact with Asmo Mc finds themselves staring at their favorite brother a little more often. Having to constantly restrain themselves. Eventually Mc finds the easiest thing for them to do is to just lock themselves in their bedroom like some sort of wild beast until this passes. But to put it simply Mc is practically in heat for a few days lol. They have to make sure that their door is locked always to make sure can’t barge in after forgetting about what Mc is going through at the moment, especially mammon, though I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the aftermath of doing such a thing.

After their pact with Levi they can’t help but feel like everything they have is all of a sudden utter garbage! Their favorite shoes? They’re so dirty and the color is so faded! Why would they ever go out looking like that?! Their favorite shirt? Ugh the design is almost completely crumbled off the front!! Why did anyone ever let you go out looking like this!! Why does everyone else look so much better!?? And they just can’t help but also feel like garbage!! Compared to someone like asmo or mammon, they look like actual dirt!!

Once it wore off Mc can’t help but wonder if that’s how levi feels all the time.

Mc, entering Levi’s room and immediately putting their hands on his shoulders and dropping their voice in despair: I am so sorry if I’ve ever made you feel as if you are overreacting about anything. You are so amazing and dorky and I cherish you

Levi, immediately flustered: w-WHAT!? WHAAAT??

By the time Mc finally makes a pact with Lucifer, they’ve done this song and dance before. So they’re ready for whatever whirlwind of emotions they may feel waking up the next morning after making a pact with Lucifer, even going as far as to send a text to the HOL group chat before sleeping that reads “I apologize in advance for however self centered or arrogant I may act for the next few days✌️(no offense lucifer)”

Though the next day the strongest thing they feel out of anything is the sudden confidence boost. Their brain just can’t stop itself from being all like “yessss yes we ARE the best.” “We’re the favorite in this household and that’s how it should be,” “yesssss.” “Of course we’re kind and considerate!! We’re ourself!!! We’re amazing!!!!!” Which ends up leading Mc to wanting to be praised, yes! I did do amazing on this test! Thank you! Dinner was amazing? Why thank you! I was the one that made it after all! Once the few days are over Lucifer approaches Mc in private,

Lucifer: it’s good to see you got over the effects of my sin quickly, Mc. But I do have a question.

Mc: yeah?

Lucifer: I… don’t act like that myself, do I?

Mc: eh… you uh… hide it well..?

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lucifers-little-light · 2 months ago

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hm I wonder how Adam is doing in the meantime

Three Days Later

Adam groaned as he stood in front of his small stash of food. His stomach growled loudly, betraying him as he stared at the meager assortment of bread, fruit, and some half-eaten scraps. Nothing was enough anymore. No matter how much he ate, he always felt hungry. But he didn’t want to admit it—especially not to himself.

Adam: *muttering to himself* I’m not… I’m not fat. Just… bloated. It’s just the sickness, that’s all.

He scowled at the reflection in a nearby cracked mirror, still trying to ignore how much thicker he’d gotten over the past few weeks. His face was rounder, his stomach fuller. Despite his grumbling stomach, he wasn’t about to admit that he’d actually gained weight. That was too much like weakness for him to handle.

But something was different. His hunger wasn’t just about his stomach—it was like a gnawing ache that wouldn’t go away. A strange compulsion to eat. And his body… well, his body was changing in ways that made him uncomfortable. He could feel it, but he pushed it aside.

Adam: *sighing heavily* Maybe if I just find something decent to eat, I’ll be able to think straight for once.

Later That Day – Pentagram City’s Streets

Adam walked the cracked, darkened streets of Hell, his mind occupied with the incessant hunger gnawing at him. He passed by vendors, stray sinners, and shady corners where deals were made in hushed tones. But none of it interested him anymore. Nothing felt quite as satisfying. His stomach growled again, loud enough for someone to hear, but Adam ignored it, trying to keep up his pride.

However, fate had other plans.

As Adam walked through a narrow alley, his path crossed with a familiar, slick figure. Valentino. He watched Adam with calculating eyes, a predatory grin forming on his lips.

Valentino: *smiling, voice smooth and intoxicating* Well, well, well… Look who we have here. You’re looking a little... worse for wear, Adam. Something on your mind?

Adam froze, his back stiffening.

Adam: *snapping, trying to seem tough* I don’t have time for you. Get lost.

Valentino chuckled darkly, his gaze never leaving Adam. He took a step closer, inspecting Adam’s condition, his eyes lingering on the other demon’s fuller frame.

Valentino: Oh, come on now. You don’t need to play hard to get with me. I see the hunger in your eyes, sweetheart. I can help you with that. You need food, protection, a roof over your head. And I happen to have an offer you can’t refuse.

Adam narrowed his eyes, unwilling to show how tempting that offer sounded. He wasn’t stupid—he knew demonic deals came at a cost.

Adam: *gritting his teeth* I don’t need anything from you.

Valentino chuckled again, his smirk growing wider.

Valentino: Oh, you do. See, I’ve got a job for you. A little arrangement. You’ll work for me—do a few… personal favors for me in the studio. And in exchange? Well, food, protection, and a roof over your head. No more starving, no more struggling. Just luxury.

Adam stared at him, anger flaring in his chest. But then his stomach rumbled again, louder this time. He clenched his jaw, refusing to give in.

Adam: *snapping* I’m not some… some toy for you to play with. I don’t care how hungry I am.

Valentino’s smile remained unshaken. He took a step closer to Adam, leaning in slightly.

Valentino: I get it. I know you’ve got pride. But tell me, Adam… when’s the last time you had a real meal? And don’t tell me it’s been a while. I can smell the hunger on you. You’re desperate~.

Adam’s hand instinctively went to his stomach, a small, involuntary gesture. His pride faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. Still, the offer was tempting. Too tempting.

Valentino watched him closely, sensing Adam’s wavering resolve.

Valentino: You don’t have to accept right away, of course. But just know, the longer you wait, the hungrier you’ll get. And I won’t be here forever. So what’ll it be? You can have everything you need, on my terms—or you can keep wandering these streets, starving.

Adam felt something stirring inside of him—a desperate need he couldn’t ignore. His body was screaming for food, for comfort. Valentino’s words gnawed at him, the idea of having everything he needed finally within reach. The offer felt like a lifeline.

Adam: *sighing heavily, his voice barely above a whisper* Fine. I’ll do it.

Valentino: Excellent

---

Back at Valentino’s Studio

That evening, Adam found himself in the luxurious, dimly lit studio of Valentino. The air was thick with lust, and the walls practically hummed with power. The finer details of the studio didn’t escape Adam’s attention, but he was too focused on the promise of food and comfort to care about much else.

Valentino: *smiling as he leads Adam inside* Welcome to my little sanctuary. The food’s already waiting for you. Don’t worry about a thing, Adam. You’re in good hands now.

Adam didn’t say anything. He only focused on the scent of food wafting in the air. He moved toward the table, practically devouring the meal before him. He ignored the sinking feeling in his gut—the sense that he’d just entered into something far darker than he could fully comprehend.

#lucifer’s little light #ask Adam #adam mpreg #but he doesn’t know it #Adam #Valentino

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moonlightspencie · 2 years ago

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i know i’ll pay for it

Part 4 of ‘the sweetest con’

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: dramaaaaaaa in this chapter

<- PART THREE

“Hey, hey, hey,” I heard her sing out to the group in the bullpen.

She was greeted with joy, especially since she was bringing food inside. I sensed the too-familiar feeling in my heart creep in, knowing that as soon as she dropped off the things everyone else had ordered, she’d be coming to give me mine. I waited patiently through the soft conversation exchanged between the others, going back to work in hopes I’d stop thinking about her. It didn’t work.

“Hotchner,” she exclaimed, jumping into the room.

“Agent,” I replied, keeping my best straight face.

“Come on,” she whined with a smile, shoulders deflating. “You know you love me.”

“Mhm,” I hummed, allowing myself to let a little humor slip into my voice. “I love silence.”

“You saying you want me to stop talking?”

“Never.”

She laughed, setting down the takeout bag on my desk and taking a seat before I even had the chance to offer.

“How’s your day so far?” she asked, digging through the bag to get her food.

“We’re not on a plane right now, so not too bad.”

“And you have lunch.”

“And excellent company,” I added.

“See?” she said, pointing her sandwich in my direction. “You love me.”

“Did I ever say I didn’t?”

She hummed. “Good point.”

We started eating, sharing a little conversation and the container of fries. I watched her as she lit up, talking about the latest series she’d been watching. Even in the small things, she was so passionate.

“The new season is starting this week, too,” she said, giving me a look as if I’d be just as hyper about it.

Based on her reaction, I almost was.

“Yeah?”

“Yes! I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“That’s great. Let’s hope we don’t get an urgent case, then.”

“No kidding,” she nodded, her eyes wide. “How’s Jack lately?”

I swallowed. “Good. He’s handling everything really well, especially since he can’t fully understand it yet.”

“That’s good. He’s a great kid. He’s going to turn out just fine, you know?”

“I know,” I nodded, not quite knowing how she could always read my mind. “I know, I just wish he didn’t have to grow up like this. He deserved better than running between houses.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “My parents split up when I was young, and I honestly never wished they would have ended up together. They were great together at first, but they were so much happier when they split.”

“Really?”

“Really. It was really hard at first to accept it, but when I hit my teens… I guess I could understand it all better. I ended up happier as a kid because I didn’t have to deal with constant fighting and negative feelings all the time anymore.”

I was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. She continued when I didn’t speak.

“I’m not saying that’s exactly what will happen. I don’t know enough about your marriage to tell you what will happen,” she said, sitting back in her seat. “I do know that he’s gonna be okay. And, one day, he won’t be sad about it anymore. He knows you both love him so much, and I don’t think either of you are capable of letting him forget that.”

“Thank you for saying all of that,” I said, voice suddenly quiet. “I’ve been struggling with it. Especially not being able to see him at home every night we’re not traveling. I just want him to be happy, and I don’t want him to think all of the fighting that’s happened with the divorce is going to be the norm.”

“I get it. It’s all going to work out, though, you know?“

“I’ll take it from you,” I replied, trying to lighten up the room.

She smiled again. “Good. You should.”

“On a very different note, I got a new coffee table and a bookshelf yesterday.”

“Nice,” she nodded, accepting my change of topic. “What do they look like?”

“Don’t know yet. I still have to assemble them.”

“You need help?” she asked, looking at me. “I love little projects.”

“I’m not making you build my furniture,” I chuckled, taking a drink.

She shook her head. “Alright, it’s not a question anymore. I’m coming over and now I’m making dinner just to spite you.”

I scoffed. “You’re not going to make dinner for me.”

“When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”

I fell quiet, trying to remember.

She raised a brow. “That’s what I thought. I’m coming over. That’ll get you out of the office at a reasonable time, too.”

I didn’t hold back a smile this time. “Alright. I’ve learned better than to try to fight you.”

“Damn right.”

She showed up at my door that night with grocery bags. I sighed, resigned to the fact that she would continue to try to care for me no matter how much I tried to reject it. I had to at least pretend that I didn’t want nothing more than to spend time with her.

She prepared dinner, putting it in the oven to cook as we started on building the furniture. She fixed all of my mistakes, laughing as we sat on the floor by the couch.

“You really can’t get a bolt in?” she asked with a smile, leaning over to look at the leg of the table.

“It’s not going in,” I said, not able to stop myself from chuckling at her surprise.

She took the little tool and the bolt from me, scooting close enough for our legs to be pressed together. I took the opportunity to watch her as she screwed it in with ease, the smell of her perfume almost overwhelming me as she sat in my space.

“See?” she asked, sitting up straight. “Easy enough.”

“For you.”

She looked at me, suddenly even closer than I had realized. The oven timer started going off, but she didn’t move.

“For anyone who knows what they’re doing,” she said with smirk.

I rolled my eyes playfully. “I went to law school, I’m no carpenter.”

She laughed, getting up to get the food out of the oven. I sat for a moment, catching my breath, then followed along. We sat on the couch, utilizing the now-built coffee table for the first time. We were nearly finished when she started laughing to herself.

“Do you think the bookshelf will be as big of a hassle as this was?”

I smiled again. She had me doing that a lot more often lately.

“I guess we’ll have to find out. I really don’t know—“

I was cut off by a knock on the door. She looked at me with questioning eyes, though I didn’t have an answer: I wasn’t expecting anybody. I excused myself, leaving her on the couch to open the door.

The second I did, I regretted it.

“Where’s my family photo album?”

I was taken aback. “What?”

“I can’t find my family photo album. Where is it?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen it in years,” I stumbled out, brows knitting together.

She scoffed, trying to push past me into my apartment.

“What are you doing? I didn’t take it,” I said, exasperation lacing my voice.

She stopped cold, staring at the woman on my couch. She turned to me, a hard anger on her face.

“You’re kidding me right now.”

I opened my mouth to respond, though I should’ve known I wouldn’t have gotten a word in.

“She’s here? In your apartment?”

“Calm down.”

“Calm down?” she asked, voice raising.

I huffed a sigh. “I have neighbors, Haley.”

She scoffed, turning to Y/N before I had the chance to stop her.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

She stood from the couch, glancing at me in utter shock and confusion.

“I’m sorry?”

Haley took another step in her direction.

“You’re unbelievable. First, he’s gone all of the time because of you, and now—“

“She has nothing to do with this,” I attempted.

“Now, you have the nerve to stick around? Alone in your boss’s apartment. You should be…”

“Excuse me?” Y/N said, finding her voice.

I stepped between the two of them, facing Haley.

“She didn’t do anything.”

“And of course, you’re still defending her. Keeping her around when you—“

“Stop.”

“No! You go and run around on me with this girl, and now you want to act like she’s a perfect little angel.”

Y/N moved to stand beside me. “Are you trying to imply he cheated on you?”

“Keep talking like you weren’t the reason,” Haley spat.

“He never cheated on you,” she said back, voice raising slightly. “Why on earth would you even think that? Especially with me?”

“I knew you were a whore the second I met you…”

“Get out,” I interrupted, moving between them again. If smoke wasn’t actually seeping out of my ears at that point, I’d be shocked. “I don’t have your album, and you’re not going to come in here and shoot off vile insults at my friends.”

“You’re a dick. You always have been.”

“Then leave.”

She scoffed again, giving me the dirtiest look she could conjure before stomping off, slamming the door behind her. I stood in silence for a moment afterwards, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart before I faced the person behind me. She rested a hand on my arm, though, calling my attention to her rapidly.

“Are you okay?” she asked, voice significantly softer than it was a minute ago.

I swallowed, turning to face her.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t—you don’t deserve that.”

“I just,” she stopped, sighing as she wrapped her arms around herself. “She really thinks you cheated on her?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Damn. How…” she shook her head, then looked back at me. “How could she even think that?”

“That’s a long story.”

“Can we talk about it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I muttered, moving around her to sit on the couch again.

“Aaron, she thinks I broke up your marriage.”

I paused, taking in the fact she used my first name. That had never happened before. I let out a slow breath, then nodded, patting the seat next to me. She sat down slowly, turning fully towards me.

“I, uh,” I started, looking at her. Just being with her felt grounding. “She cheated on me, actually. Never admitted it, but I knew. I was in the wrong so many times in our relationship, I won’t deny that, but…”

“You didn’t deserve to be cheated on.”

I nodded. “I know. I think she was just deflecting, especially after I found out. Once she gathered that I knew about it, she started accusing me instead.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I just don’t understand one thing. Why did she think I was the one you cheated with? I mean, like, did I do something to make her think that?”

“I think she needed someone else to be mad at. You were the easiest target.”

“Why?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

I didn’t stop to think before I answered.

“You’re beautiful and very kind to me. She probably saw you and how you treated me, and I guess— She probably just thought if I’d fall for anyone, it would be you.”

She stared, letting my words sink in. I opened my mouth, ready to try to make amends for admitting something so personal. Though, of course, my phone started ringing at that moment.

I sighed, then picked up my phone to answer.

“Hotchner,” I stated in greeting.

She watched me, already knowing what the call meant.

“Be there soon, thank you,” I nodded, then watched as she got up, taking the dishes with her.

NEXT PART ->

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner series #cowboy like me #the sweetest con

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devildom-moss · 1 year ago

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Roses for You (10)

This had all started when you noticed a link between a book on the language of flowers you had borrowed from Satan’s room and the current lessons from your Seductive Speechcraft and Magical Potions classes.

In Seductive Speechcraft, you had just reached a section on the effectiveness of spells using non-verbal communication: enchanting glances, dance, and offerings. Meanwhile, in Magical Potions, the professor had been discussing the significance of using specific quantities when concocting potions; they had spent fifteen minutes just providing examples – including adding petals from two different flowers when using them for a love spell.

You couldn’t resist discussing the use of flower language – utilizing the type, color, and quantity of the flowers – to specify the magical intent of an offering as a form of seductive speechcraft. Asmo and Solomon listened intently. The same idea popped into both of their minds, and before you knew it, everyone was looking into color and number meanings, searching for the perfect combination to convey their feelings for you and try to put you under their spell. The only rule for their little competition to charm you? Only roses are allowed.

Will you be charmed by their attempts?

Ten Roses - Luke

Word Count: +1,400

You are perfect

This week had culminated to today – one of those days when a cruel creature crawled onto your shoulder and screamed insults into your skull every few minutes. Its words drown everything else out. You are so useless. I hate you. I hate this. I’m such a loser. In spite of that, you still managed to pull your heavy limbs out of bed and drag them through about 60% of your morning routine – a win. It was just two classes today. You could do it.

You were noticeably slower as you walked to class, and you felt your spine compress and the full weight of your body with every step. Guilt set in – both ashamed and anxious about potentially being recognized at the bottom of this well. What were you expected to say if they asked about it? What if they were mad or annoyed because you were feeling bad again? How honest could you be without making them worry about you? What if you started crying the second they showed they cared? That would be embarrassing.

A small voice broke through your intense focus on the worst possible outcomes. You tuned your ears to it halfway through. “. . . busy after school?”

“Huh?” You blinked out of your self-induced trance. “Sorry, what was that, Luke?”

“Are you busy after school, MC?” You shook your head slowly. Luke grinned. “Great. Will you go on a picnic with me this afternoon?”

“Well, I –” you stopped yourself. The part of you that was exhausted and wasn’t sure if you could put in the extra strength to get through a picnic crumbled at the sight of Luke’s angelic smile. Maybe this was something you had to do – one of those things that are supposed to help you feel better. Your shoulders slumped with a sigh, and you forced a smile. “Yeah. Okay, Luke.”

“Yay.” Luke clasped his hands together with a grin. “I’ll meet you after your last class. We can have it at the park on the way back home, so we won’t have to go too out of the way. I’ll have everything ready.”

“Wait. Can I do anything to help? It’s last minute, but I have time between classes – maybe I could –”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got everything handled. Actually, well,” Luke hummed, wondering if he should share the truth. With a slight blush on his cheeks, he admitted, “I planned ahead, hoping you would say yes. I already made the food and got drinks. All you have to do is be there, really!”

You could hear the determination in Luke’s voice. It warmed your heart that he cared so much to do this, but it was a painful, burning warmth – the prickle you feel when warming your freezing fingers. His kindness felt wasted, but Luke wanted to offer it to you, and you didn’t know how to politely reject it. You nodded and Luke gave you another smile. It almost looked like part of him saw right through your façade, but you hoped his naivety would spare him from knowing how tumultuous your thoughts were recently.

“I’ll see you later, MC. Do your best in your classes. I prepared your favorites – with some help from Simeon and Barbatos, so please look forward to it.”

You tried to look forward to it, and you did your best in your classes – even though the best you could manage was sitting there and getting about half a page of notes down (hopefully about the most important parts of the lecture). You sort of lucked out that you had lectures today. Sitting there was already harder than you wanted it to be.

Luke was waiting right there in the hallway when you clawed your effort from the grasp of Diavolo’s education system. It was almost comical to see such a small angel carrying a rather large picnic basket. It looked like an overkill for a two-person picnic.

“Are the others joining us?” You asked with an ounce of dread. You had only mentally planned to spend time with Luke. Maybe you could handle Simeon and Barbatos – but even Solomon might be pushing it. If Lucifer could go without teasing Luke, you might have been okay with him, but Lucifer didn’t seem like he would be caught on a picnic with you and Luke on a weekday afternoon in the park.

“Nope, just us today. Why?”

“That basket is huge.” You didn’t really want to, but you felt you had to offer, “Should I carry that for you?”

“I had to use this picnic basket. Oh! But it’s not heavy. I can totally carry it on my own, so don’t you worry about it.”

Now that you were sitting in a quiet part of the park where the breeze was light and crisp, you felt like you could breathe a bit deeper. The Devildom was pretty when you thought about it – and you probably wouldn't have thought about it if not for Luke. He pulled out your favorite bread – one that Barbatos must have helped him bake – and that one dessert that Simeon made for you a few months ago. You didn’t even remember telling Luke that it was probably the best thing you had ever eaten. He was still pulling out food when you felt the guilt rise up again. Why did he put in so much effort?

Instead of drowning in the guilt, you tried to hold onto something. “Thank you, Luke. I don’t know what to say. This is so nice.”

“Do you know why I brought the big picnic basket today? It’s because I had to hide a present for you,” Luke admitted proudly.

“Luke.” Even for an angel, someone raised him to be too sweet.

“Close your eyes.” You did as he asked, waiting for a signal that came soon after. Luke said in sing-song, “ta-da.”

When you opened your eyes, he was holding out a bouquet of ten bright-yellow roses. The roses blurred as tears welled up. In your current state, you couldn’t remember what ten meant, but yellow was the unmistakable color of joy and friendship. It hadn’t occurred to you in a while how grateful you were for Luke’s friendship. The tears followed through on their threat, freely falling down your cheeks in the middle of the park.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized weakly. Luke tensed with panic, but he noticed that the corners of your lips kept turning up as if you were trying to smile, so he handed you a tissue and decided to say his piece.

“It’s okay, MC. You can cry if you want to. You’ve been having a hard time recently, right? I noticed – even though I think you didn’t want me to. And then, Mammon told me he heard you whisper something mean to yourself when you were alone in the library. I’m sorry that you’re not doing well. You’re my friend, right? So, I want you to rely on me, and maybe I can’t always cheer you up, but I had to do something. I want you to eat good food and enjoy the world – even if that world is the Devildom. Even if you don’t believe me, I think you’re perfect just as you are, and I want you to be happy.” Luke spoke without any of his usual embarrassment about being honest and affectionate. For a brief moment, you recalled some of the times you had been there for Luke. Yes, Luke was being kind to you in his own angelic way, but he was also holding up a mirror, reflecting your kindness back at you – a give and take that was not always even, but it was cherished. You were too busy crying to think of the right thing to say, but that was okay. Luke set the roses down and got closer. “Would you like a hug?”

You were far from cried-out, but you felt okay enough to wipe your eyes and try to enjoy this picnic to the best of your ability – even if you had drawn the attention of a few demons who were passing by. You stretched your arms out and grabbed Luke, pulling him close to you, much in the same way Satan did with street cats he befriended when they were being especially cute. With a small smile on your lips, you said, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you but if they had angel adoption papers, I would sign them right away.”

Luke wasn’t sure if you were trying to treat him like a son or a pet, but he would let it slide this time. “Well, if they had human adoption papers for angels, I would sign them too. And then I would be your guardian.”

#luke #gn!mc #obey me series #obey me #obey me luke #Will I be able to get under 1k for Simeon who knows?

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sillystardew · 2 years ago

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i’m a sucker for this so, bachelors when the farmer passes out in the mines/skull caverns and their reactions? 🫶🫶🫶

Bachelors reacting to you passing out in the mines

Sorry about answering this ask so late! I had some exams these last few weeks ❤️

Gender neutral reader 🦇

Harvey

-He’s anxious enough with you just GOING to the mines – you’ve heard plenty of lectures from him about bringing plenty of food, not pushing yourself too hard, not staying out to late, everything he thought you should know

-His heart drops out of his damn body when Marlon brings you into the clinic

-He knows he should have never let you go down there, and now one of his worst fears has come true

-He can barely keep himself together while he patches you up

-You may be one of the most soothing things in the world for his anxiety, but by god you are also the main source of it

-Even after you’re all fixed up, he doesn’t stay still for long

-He’ll pace, prepare bottles of water, get painkillers, rehearse his lecture for when you wake up-

-Yeah, he doesn’t take it too well.

Sam

-He kind of cursed at himself for not going with you. He knows you’re capable, but he also should have made sure you at least had SOMEONE to help you

-He makes sure you’re okay, of course, but really he’s putting most of the blame on himself for not looking out for you

-In my opinion i think he’s one of the last people to lecture you. He’s just glad you made it out

-Definitely offers to go into the mines with you the next few times you go. It’s going to take quite a bit of reassurance from you for him to let you go by yourself again (even then, maybe he asks Abigail to keep an eye on you)

Sebastian

-He’s stressed out of his mind when he’s told you’re in the clinic. He tries not to chain-smoke normally, but he can’t think of any other way to ease his mind while he waits to see you

-He knows you need the materials and the money, but he tries to find any way to convince you of other ways to get the things you need. You can go to the quarry for ore, right? He can contribute some money and maybe you can just buy it from Clint..

-He’s okay with you going back to the mines after your incident, but he still feels the prickles of anxiety ebbing at him

Shane

-He tries to hold himself together when he hears you’ve been hurt. He knew what you were doing was dangerous, he shouldn’t be surprised

-That doesn’t stop him from bursting into tears upon seeing you in the clinic

-You’re a part of what keeps him stable, he’s terrified of losing you

-He doesn’t have to lecture you. His crying and pleas for you to be safer are enough to convince you

Alex

-He KNEW he should have gone with you

-He asked if you needed help and you told him no

-He’s not a stranger to losing the people he loves, and he doesn’t know if he would be able to handle it again

-He’ll probably never let you go to the mines alone again. He knows he probably won’t be able to go as often as you do, but you’re in the adventurers guild! They should at least try to look out for their own people!

-He trusts you, and he knows you’re strong, but he knows what it feels like to push yourself more than you need to

-He doesn’t let onto how scared he was, but in reality, his heart didn’t stop racing until you woke up

Elliott

-He starts shaking in the clinic seeing you unconscious. It hurts him to see you in such a state

-He blames himself for not making sure you had enough food, sufficient supplies, or at least something

-While he’s waiting in the clinic, he realizes how much impact you truly have on him and his well-being

-As soon as you wake up, he’s kissing you on the cheek and gently rubbing your arm

-He’s going to need quite a bit of comforting afterwards

#stardew valley #stardew headcanon #stardew fanfic #stardew harvey #stardew shane #stardew alex #stardew elliott #stardew sam #stardew sebastian #my writing

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techs-ass · 2 years ago

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The Bad Batch Head Canons - Favorite Flavors

So for a little background on this, one of my love languages is cooking. I love cooking for my loved ones and and it boosts my ego when they enjoy my food. This kinda popped into my head the other day when I was thinking about things I would cook for Tech. So then I started thinking about flavors that the other batchers would like/dislike and thus flavor headcanons were born!

I know it's a little random but I enjoy thinking about fluffy stuff like this (in between the constant flow of smut in my head) so I hope you guys like it too!

Also, this is my first post in TBB fandom!! I'm so excited :D I hope ya'll like my stuff~ Please feel free to like, reblog, comment. You're interactions feed my ego.

TW: There's like one or two sex jokes but nothing really nsfw

Hunter

Hunter isn’t a picky eater but because of his senses, he’s very easily overwhelmed by strongly scented foods. If you want to cook for him, just keep this in mind and maybe open some windows for him. Overall, I feel Hunter doesn’t get to really sit down and enjoy his food often so I think he’d really enjoy having a spouse that likes to cook for him.

Spicy: I feel like because of his heightened senses, Hunter isn't a big fan of really strong flavors so immediately anything spicy is out especially if it has a really strong scent. I don’t think that he can’t handle spiciness, it’s just that he has a strong dislike for it.

Sweet: Hunter likes sweet things but he’s definitely not as into them like Wrecker. I feel like he’s more of a fruit kind of sweet guy. Like if you give him the option between chocolate or freshly sliced peaches, he’s gonna go for the peaches. His favorite kind of cake is any cake with fruit on it. Bring this man a bowl of fresh fruit after a long day of hot work outside and you’re gonna see hearts in his eyes.

Sour: No. Absolutely not. Do not bring this man anything sour, he won’t even look at it. You know how some restaurants will bring you water with lemon? He will send the water back (or give it to Tech) because it’s already ruined to him. Don’t even think about offering sour candy to him because he will gag in your face. Trick him into eating something sour and he won’t speak to you for a week. Hunter doesn’t claim to hate many things but sour stuff is right at the top of this man’s list.

Savory: You wanna bring this man to his knees? Make him fall head over heels? Bring him a plate that has medium-rare, lightly seasoned steak and a piping hot baked potato and he’s YOURS baby. Hunter loves savory things, very much a meat and potatoes guy. Make him a good homemade gravy and you’re gonna get his gravy later that night. I could see him really enjoying southern cooking because it’s a very savory cuisine. But be a little light with the spices, at least if it has a strong scent. Other than that he’s not picky about savory foods.

Bitter: Refer to ‘spicy’ but there’s the exception of caf. He does add a little sugar to it when he can to help balance it out. But overall, he’s not really into bitter things. He does occasionally like bitter wines though!

Tech

Tech doesn’t really eat because he enjoys eating, he eats because he has to. If your love language is cooking, you might struggle a little when it comes to Tech. It’s not that he’s super picky, he just…doesn’t enjoy eating? He doesn’t dislike it. It’s just something he does in order to keep his body going. It’s almost like a chore. He’ll do his best to try your cooking though! He doesn’t want to make you feel bad.

Spicy: Tech is pretty neutral when it comes to spicy things. He does occasionally enjoy some spicy food but he likes more subtle spice. Something with a very low heat to it that is more in the background than the main flavor. If you bring him something that's really spicy, he will most likely not eat it.

Sweet: I don't see Tech being a sweet fan. Not that he particularly dislikes sweets but he doesn't like them either. If he does eat sweets, it’s probably going to be hard candy.Like he really enjoys peppermints or butterscotch. Doesn’t really enjoy sweet fruits either.

Sour: No one in the galaxy can convince me that this man doesn't pop sour candies like his life depends on it. Tech LOVES sour things. He's the kind of guy to ask for extra lemons for his water. He keeps a stash of super sour candies in various places around the ship so he has access to them at all times. This man can suck on limes like they're butterscotch. He adores oranges and green apples!! Bring him some peeled oranges that are already broken apart (the less work it takes for him to eat something, the happier he is) and you'll have him wrapped around your finger.

Savory: Tech likes savory foods. I see him really enjoying grilled cheese sandwiches with soup. He likes his savory food to be relatively simple though so maybe don’t season it too much.

Bitter: You would think that because he enjoys sour things that he would like bitter foods but the answer is no. He honestly doesn't even like caf, he just drinks it for energy and that's about it. Tech will actively avoid anything with a bitter flavor. Do not bring this man dark chocolate, he will spit it out.

Wrecker

Wrecker is absolutely not a picky eater. This man LOVES food and will rarely turn a meal down. I can’t even begin to fathom the amount of ration bars it took to make this man feel full. Wrecker is the perfect person for you if your love language is cooking food. He will always be willing to eat what you make! You mean you?? The love of his life?? Made him something to eat?? Just for him?? Maker, you’re literally perfect, marry him right now.

Spicy: Y'know those people who can't handle even a singular flake of red pepper? The kind of people who eat something with a *hint* of spice and start dramatically waving at their tongue and calling for milk? That's Wrecker. This big boy cannot, under any circumstances, handle spiciness. He'll try to act tough but you can see the tears in his eyes and his cheeks are comically red. It’s honestly kinda cute.

Sweet: You thought Hunter had heightened senses? You haven't seen Wrecker around sweets. Did you eat a singular piece of chocolate 3 hours ago? Did you happen to put a piece of candy in your pocket? Wrecker can SMELL it. He's all over you like a hound dog asking you where you're hiding the candy. This man loves sweets. You will never be able to hide sweets from him. He WILL find them and consume all of it. You want Wrecker to turn into putty in your hands? Shower him with sweets, bake him cookies. If you’re a baker, you’ll never have to worry about your sweets going untouched.

Sour: I feel like Wrecker would enjoy sour candy but not really sour foods. He doesn’t mind a squeeze of lemon over fish or something with a sour element but he doesn't really like just straight sour. Overall, he’s kinda neutral to it.

Savory: Yes. Absolutely yes. You gonna look me in the face and tell me this huge man doesn't gorge himself on meat like a man starved for 30 rotations? Give him a fat turkey leg and it'll be eaten to bone within minutes. Wrecker loves savory foods (though not as much as he loves sweets) and will enjoy most savory dishes. I feel like he would enjoy anything with tomatoes in it. Feel free to go heavy on the seasonings too! Wrecker loves things with a lot of flavor! I personally feel like smoked paprika would be a favorite of his.

Bitter: Again, with the exception of caf, no. Wrecker just doesn’t like anything bitter and adds loads of sugar to his caf to cover the taste of it. He looks like he might cry if he goes to bite into some chocolate and finds out it’s dark chocolate. Literally nothing will ruin his day more.

Echo

I think we can all agree the Echo is an extremely picky eater. The amount of times we see him turn his nose up at food is almost comical. My deepest condolences if you want to try and win this man through his stomach because you are up for a challenge. You’re gonna have to serve him any food you make him on those plates with the separated compartments. Because by Maker, if one of the foods touches the other, he’s not going to eat any of it. Try not to take it personally if he doesn’t like what you cook. With that in mind,

Spicy: Spicy? No. Absolutely not. Bring him food that he knows is spicy and he won’t even look at it. He’ll just look at you with a quirked eyebrow like “You don’t expect me to touch this do you?”

Sweet: Eh. Echo isn’t really a big fan of sweets though he doesn’t mind eating fruits. He’ll occasionally indulge in candy but it’s very rare and he’ll only eat one or two bites before he’s done. He does enjoy baked sweets though if it’s got a good flavor balance! Think like sugar cookies made with almonds or dark chocolate covered strawberries. He’ll eat it as long as it’s not overbearingly sweet. (Don’t tell anyone but he’s got a soft spot for oatmeal cookies)

Sour: Once again, no. Absolutely not. Very similar to Hunter in that regard. Feed him something that’s even slightly sour and he will spit it out. He honestly doesn’t even like the smell of sour things. Whenever Tech is going on a sour binge both Echo and Hunter will avoid him like the plague because even the smell makes them nauseous. If you purposely trick him into eating something sour, do not expect him to be willing to try your food for a while. He won’t trust it.

Savory: Yes but similar to Tech in the regards that he likes simple things. Bring him grilled chicken with some rice and he’ll be pretty content. If you want to bring him a snack then bring him some garlic bread. He’ll devour that shit. Bacon is another good food to give him but you do have to make sure you cook it perfectly. If it’s too soft or too cooked, he won’t like it. Be VERY light with seasonings. He’s extremely picky with how things taste so if it has too many flavors, he’s not going to like it. Your best bet would be just stick with pepper and salt.

Bitter: Surprisingly…yes. One of the few things Echo does enjoy is bitter foods. He loves his caf without anything added. Bring him some hot, fresh caf and some dark chocolate and darlin’ he’s yours.

Crosshair

Many things will be complicated if you enter a relationship with this grumpy sniper but oddly enough, food is not one of those things. He’s not a picky eater and will consume just about anything that’s put in front of him. However, be prepared for him to be very blunt about your food. He’s not afraid to tell you if he hates something or if the food doesn’t taste good. Be ready to be teased for weeks if you accidentally burn something.

Spicy: Literally the only batcher who enjoys spicy food. Crosshair loves spicy food and will usually ask things to be made extra hot. You know those menus where they got like the little flaming peppers indicating spiciness level? Yeah, he always gets the max heat. He’s the kinda guy where you’ll hand him a plate of food and he’ll ask for hot sauce or sriracha to put on it. Sometimes he’ll specifically order spicy food just to bother Wrecker and eat it in front of him with a shit eating grin while he calls him weak.

Sweet: Yes but only secretly. He’ll never openly admit it but he loves sweets. His sweet tooth almost rivals Wreckers. He has a secret stash that he keeps very well hidden and every once in a while will sneak off the Marauder to go eat his candy in peace. If you like to make baked goods, you’ll have to listen to him grumble about how he absolutely doesn’t like sweets as you watch him devour the entire plate of chocolate chip cookies that you pulled out of the oven less than five minutes ago.

Sour: Crosshair doesn’t dislike or like sour foods. He’s pretty neutral to it and it really just depends on this dish. He’d probably enjoy things like kimchi but doesn’t enjoy sour candies. It’s pretty much a coin flip on whether he’ll like it or not.

Savory: Do you want this gruff sniper to be completely wrapped around your finger? Want him to fall to his knees and declare his undying love for you? Bring him some heavily seasoned savory food and he’s a goner. Spicy fried chicken? He’s gonna follow you like a love-sick puppy for months. Literally anything with potatoes. Anything. With. Potatoes. Spicy and cheesy? He’s dead and gone to heaven.

Bitter: No. Just no. Crosshair hates bitter foods probably because he’s bitter enough all by himself. If you happen to catch him making a cup of caf, you’ll see him dumping loads of sugar into it. Like just an entire bag. You know how southerner’s make their sweet tea? (If you don’t, just know that my family recipe for sweet tea is one gallon of tea with about three cups of sugar. That is considered normal.) That’s how Crosshair makes his coffee.

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