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stirthewaters · 6 months

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Too Sharp to Touch pt.12

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Wednesday comforts you in your fear of the rain

Warnings: language, pills/drugs? Fluff

Pairings: Wednesday x Reader

Too Sharp to Touch Masterlist

The darkening skies had you on edge as you walked along the sidewalk.

The presence of Wednesday at your side was starting to become surprisingly familiar as she strode beside you, her pale, well manicured fingers gripping the straps of her backpack rather tightly as her deadpan expression remained focused straight ahead. It was starting to become quite comforting.

The two of you were in town for different reasons; Wednesday specifically wanted to visit the hunting store to look over the recent customers to add to her evidence board, and while you of course were devoted to the case the two of you were engaged in, you were in town for an alternate purpose; supplements.

Not that you found anything wrong with your wolf, merely because you preferred not to spend full moons in the lupine cages. Your most recent prescription had unfortunately been completed right before the full moon; about two days away from now. All you had to do was show your prescription to the outcast doctor and be on your way.

“This way.” A slight nudge on your arm tugged you from your thoughts as you glanced over to see Wednesday turning the corner, barely slowing down as she pointed out without even sparing you a glance. “You’re nervous.”

You scurried back to her side, unable to resist a soft roll of your eyes as you mumbled, “it’s a perfectly normal phobia.”

“I’d hardly label the fear of rain as rational.” Wednesday remarked, shooting you a look as her boots clomped along the sidewalk, a rhythm you repeated with your fingers against your side. “Perhaps some therapy would do you good.”

“Oh and where did that get you?” You retort hotly as her glare darkens. “I’d rather not look for psychological help in a town that’s known for murders. I’m already breaking the rules enough being out here.”

“It’s merely a medical trip for you. Consider it that way if you prefer a clean conscience.” Wednesday almost shrugged, pausing abruptly and causing you to stumble, nearly bumping into her in the process. “I’ll meet you back here once I’m done.”

“It’s a pharmacy, not a drop-off center…” you grumbled under your breath as you stepped into the building, the warm heat welcoming you as opposed to the cold outside. You turned and watched as Wednesday walked off in the direction of the hunting store.

Approaching the counter you instantly recognized Dr. Kennedy, the same man who’d started to become familiar with your occasional visits.

“Ah, Y/N. Welcome back.” The man smiled over his glasses with a warm expression, placing his clipboard down as he approached the other side of the counter to meet you. “How’s life at Nevermore treating you? I didn’t think any students would make it to town with the storm on the way.”

You felt yourself pale slightly at the mention of the storm before responding, putting on a smile to match his. Although you were never very particular about doctors, Dr Kennedy did a decent job at making you feel welcomed in a town like Jericho. It only made sense, seeing as his business catered specially to outcasts. It was lucky that Nevermore had a medical supplier so close to the school anyways.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, honestly; it’s a little chilly but nothing I can’t handle.” You paused before pulling your crumpled prescription from your jacket pocket, slipping it onto the counter for him to see. “I was looking for a refill on my supplements.”

Dr Kennedy adjusted his glasses down the bridge of his nose slightly as he took the paper into his palm, rereading the words. Taking a pen in his palm he re-signed it, turning into the back room as he spoke.

“You're quite lucky you got here in time, Y/N. Our shipment of lupine suppressants came unusually late and with a lot less too; apparently the pharmacist up in Vermont had to deal with some sort of robbery at his place.”

He returned a few moments later with the usual brown paper bag, sliding it over the counter to you as he leant on his elbows, continuing.

“I hear pharmacies aren’t doing too well nowadays. Or at least around here, they’re not.”

You frowned slightly as you reached for the bag, double checking as usual that it was the correct bottle. Spotting the ever familiar green label you stuffed it into your pocket.

“There must be some sort of shortage wherever they’re growing or manufacturing these… probably nothing bad.” You shrugged, not taking notice of Dr Kennedy’s skeptical expression. “Thanks for the pills, Doctor. I appreciate it.”

The man nodded softly and smiled warmly; “good luck, Y/N. I assume you’ll see me in a month or two.” With that he disappeared back into the back room.

You stepped out of the building, looking up at the darkened skies; a low rumble of thunder met your glance, making your skin crawl. Yes, Wednesday had specifically instructed you to wait here until she returned, but there was no way in hell you’d be caught in the rain; besides, she wasn’t in charge of you, was she?

There was a brief moment of hesitation but when you felt a light sprinkle on your shoulder you flinched and immediately made a beeline for the hunting store.

The doorbells clanging over the door announced your arrival to everyone inside and you felt yourself grimace in disgust at the sight of all the different rifles and guns mounted upon the wall, distaste lingering in your mouth. Fortunately there weren’t that many customers; the occasional fisherman here and there but otherwise it was surprisingly peaceful for a hunting store.

As you walked through the stand of furred hats you spotted Wednesday at the counter, speaking with the cashier; a man wearing a Bulls baseball cap and a torn leather jacket. You watched as the raven spoke, recognizing the slight look of impatience in her eye you’d become familiar with lately. Clearly the man’s attitude wasn’t one she was happy with.

“-listen, Miss, I’d love to help you, I really would, but the data we track from our customers is private. We don’t just give it out to anyone, y’know.”

You watched as Wednesday’s grip tightened slightly on her backpack straps as she spoke through slightly gritted teeth.

“My motives are in the pursuit of the school's safety; you’re willing to risk that in order to protect a store policy?”

“Just because Jericho and Nevermore are on decent terms doesn’t mean we’re responsible for each other.” The man frowned slightly as if in slight distaste as he met Wednesday’s glare. “And all that shit that went down last year with the Hyde is over. I highly doubt the safety of the school is at risk.”

“Then explain where the deputies are right now.”

Wednesday folded her arms, her gaze darkening as the man sighed.

“I don’t know everything that goes on in this town, kid. It’s probably just another bear attack up north.”

“How ironic,” you caught Wednesday mutter under her breath as he continued.

“You’re just a high schooler. Even if Nevermore is in danger like you said, I’m not giving just any goth who walks into my store important information. So unless you’re planning on buying something you can leave.”

You weren’t surprised when Wednesday slid a knife across the counter without a moment’s hesitation; the blade was short and straight with a nicked top that looked quite sharp; the handle was a deep black, with silver hints down the sides, making for a tasteful choice of knife. Of course she had good taste in knives.

“I can make it worth your while.”

The raven held up a small stack of bills she had retrieved from her backpack, raising an eyebrow at the employee. He eyed the money for a moment, his eyes narrowing before folding his arms and scoffing.

“I don’t do bribes, kid. Just buy the knife and get out of here.”

Jaw clenched, Wednesday thumbed a bill from the stack and handed it over, placing the rest in her backpack as she took the knife and slid it into her jacket pocket, not bothering to say goodbye as she headed out.

“You’re dreadful at hiding.” Her voice startled you as she paused in front of you, an eyebrow raised. “You’d think a wolf would have a better sense at subtelty.”

“You’d be surprised.” You gave a soft grin of your own as you folded your arms, glancing at the man who was now watching the two of you with a distasteful expression, eyes narrowed as he examined you closely. “Let’s get out of here.”

The two of you were at the door when you were stopped by a hand on your shoulder and you froze, eyes narrowing as you slowly turned on your heel.

“I recognize you.”

“Don’t touch her.” Wednesday shouldered you aside somewhat roughly, but you didn’t mind, you were too busy glaring at the man as you retorted

“Leave us alone. You said you wanted us gone, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved dismissively, removing his hand at the sight of Wednesday’s death stare. “But you’re that Lyall kid, right? The one from Vermont?”

“What’s it to you?” You frowned, suddenly hyper aware of Wednesday’s cold hand on your wrist.

“I’d be willing to give that intel your girl was looking for in exchange for some information. I mean, you’re famous after all, aren't you?”

“She’s not my- my-“ you stuttered dumbly as you felt yourself blush slightly, Wednesday’s eyes on you as you fought for words. “I’m not famous, you’ve got the wrong person.”

The guy frowned slightly, examining you for a moment until eventually muttering something under his breath, “not worth it”. Turning on his heel he started to head back to the counter, but Wednesday stepped forward quickly, gripping his jacket tightly in one hand as the other bore the knife she’d just purchased, pointed at his neck.

“If you want to keep your head attached to your body I’d suggest staying away from us.”

Your eyes widened slightly as the man’s eyes widened in shock and slight fear as he gave what little of a nod he could until the raven stepped back, folding the knife in disgust and putting it away as she turned back to you.

“Let’s go.”

By the time you and Wednesday had returned to Nevermore a good rain was already falling, the rumbles of thunder now more pronounced through the school’s walls. If not for the umbrella Wednesday had brought just in case you would’ve been soaked.

“That was a waste of time,” you grumbled as you followed her into the dorm the Addams shared with Enid. “Other than my suppressants we got nothing.”

“Not necessarily.” Wednesday pulled her jacket aside, hanging it over the side of her bed as she faced the recently set up investigation board by the window. Thing scuttled out from her bag, perching himself atop the board; in his fingers he held a pair of keys.

A wild grin burst upon your face as you held out your hand and Thing tossed you the keys, speaking with excitement “how the hell did you get these without being seen?”

“Simple diversion. I would’ve thought you’d learned a bit more after all this time.” Wednesday gave a little roll of her eyes as she examined the board; there wasn’t much on it; a map of the woods, a diagram of a shotgun, and a couple receipts. “Tonight would be more than a sufficient time to break in.”

You started to respond with a grin until a crackle of thunder split through the dorm, sending a chill down your spine, fingers tightly gripping the edges of your jacket. Wednesday clearly noticed, as something akin to a frown flashed across her face.

“I still don’t understand how you can fear such a beautifully gloomy sound. Just because it is meant to instill fear does not mean you have to be afraid.” The Addams paced across the room, until she was facing you directly, her dark stare flitting over your shaking form. God you hated the fact that you were shaking. “What will it take for me to get your pitiful shaking to stop?”

You fought for words, at a loss for what to say. You’d never been asked that before. You didn’t notice the way Wednesday’s gaze softened just ever so softly; the way her furrowed eyebrows lifted slightly and her chocolate-toned eyes met you.

You had no clue what she was thinking.

For Wednesday she was left utterly confused at the muddled mess of disgusting feelings sitting in her stomach like a pile of rot. The Addams had no clue how to handle them, especially since she had such a lack of experience with… emotion. You must have cursed her… at this point she was positive that you were the one making her cup your chin, your skin ever so warm on her cool hand as she lifted your head so that you met her gaze. Her usually confident and sure footed mind was left scrambling to remember all do Enid’s advice on comfort.

“If it will get you to stop quaking like a frightened puppy I will allow you to reside on my bed.” Wednesday paused, before her eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t stain anything or I will kick you out.”

The way your eyes faintly brightened made her heart twist; oh god, you weakened her. She most certainly despised you. Another boom of thunder seemed to end any hesitation you might’ve had as the raven watched you scramble for her bed.

Glancing over at the investigation board she spotted Thing, cutting off his tapping as she gritted her teeth - “not. A. Word.”

A quick look back over at the bed confirmed your still shaking form. You were just sitting there, stiff and awkward on the edge of the mattress. Wednesday couldn’t help rolling her eyes as she strode towards her cello case, kneeling down as she muttered, “one could easily think you were a corpse.”

“I’m getting comfortable.” You defended hotly, clearly a little embarrassed. She decided not to mention it, merely pulling her beloved instrument from its casing; settling herself atop her chair she pulled the cello in front of her carefully, tuning it.

“You’re going to play for me?”

Wednesday halted, her fingers freezing momentarily over the knobs as she slowly looked over at you, her eyebrows furrowing. “Of course not. Your phobia of the rain just happened to interfere with my playing time.” She turned back to the pegbox, giving one of the pegs the slightest of adjustments before picking up her bow. She didn’t need sheet music to play the song she desired.

Her bow pulled across the strings as her fingers maneuvered the fingerboard. The haunting melody of “Cello Sonata in D Minor, Op.40” began to fill the room, a deep sense of satisfaction stirring within her as the piece unfolded.

—

Halfway through the song she noticed you’d fallen asleep, draped in a slightly uncomfortable position over the foot of her bed. Sighing, she reluctantly put down the instrument, standing to step over to the bed.

You didn’t even rouse when she draped a blanket over you.

She was unconscious of the fact that she played her cello just ever so slightly softer when she returned.

Taglist:

@idkjustliving2 @alexkolax @tekanparadiae

#wednesday addams #wednesday series #wednesday x reader #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #jenna ortega #wednsday addams #tstt #too sharp to touch #wednesday x werewolf #wednesday x werewolf reader

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headphones-ct-09978 · 1 year

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So....I saw this earlier today. Apparently this is Kylo Ren's quarters and it's just.....so freaking sad! 😢

That being said, I had an idea: What if Kylo's apprentice, who works for/with Hux and is paid a hefty wage, buys him a new bed and other comforts?

Comfy

Kylo Ren X General Hux X Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Kylo Ren's apprentice worries about him.

Tags: @kylorenny @jaynesilver @lifeofroos @knightsofladyren

(I tagged some of you cuz I thought you'd like this. Lemme know if you don't wanna be tagged in any more 😅)

. Your master was away on yet another solo mission, the directive unknown to you. While he was away, you were back to working for Hux as his assistant. Things were running smoothly, and with Kylo gone, Armitage seemed a little more at ease. Either it was that tea he was sipping once again, or the absence of your master, but he was smiling more and was generally more relaxed. That morning, or rather, the start of your rotation, was no different. You were busy filling in data into your data pad when he walked over to you and rested his hand on your shoulder, a gesture which was rare but welcome. "How's the report coming along, Y/n?"

You flashed him a startled smile, his action shocking you out of your thoughts momentarily. "It's going fairly decent, General. Everything is accounted for and the updates from our suppliers just arrived. Is there anything we need, aside from rations and weapons?"

Hux thought for a moment, reading what was on your data pad over your shoulder. After a moment, something seemed to click in his head. "You have everything listed, but Lord Ren has...certain preferances in regards to rations."

"He's a picky eater?" you asked in jest, glancing over your shoulder at the ginger general. Hux snorted "I wish it were that, but no. He's on a strict diet, at least that's what he's mentioned."

"Do you know what he prefers? He hasn't told me much about his...personal habits." you replied, opening a new tab on your pad so you can jot down any notes or suggestions Hux had. But Hux shook his head. "I haven't the faintest of clues as to what that man likes or doesn't."

"Fair enough."

A moment passed as Hux thought of a solution. "He may have some products in his quarters that may clue us in as to what he eats." he retrieved his own data pad and swiped the screen a few times before he pulled up a pass code and sent the set of numbers to you.

"What's this?" you asked as you stared at the lengthy line of numbers.

"That is Kylo Ren's pass code to his quarters. He's an extremely secretive and private man and it was a pain to figure this out."

You tried to hide the smirk on your face. "And why, General, would you want to enter his quarters?"

Hux flicked the tip of your ear, a tiny playful gesture. "We have regulations here aboard this ship, and those regulations require a certain level of tidiness. Kylo has very little time, it seems, to keep his quarters neat. The pass code is for service droids to clear up any...messes he leaves." The General was, of course, referring to the times when Kylo vented his rage on anything within reach, often destroying furniture or consoles. Hux, as always, had to either pay for the damages himself or clean up the debris.

"Ooooooh, oh I get." You said, still flashing him a cheeky smirk, a smirk which he returned moments before he took another sip from the mug he was holding.

"Well, in that case, I'll go take inventory of what he has and get back to you on that." With that, you gave him a tiny salute and headed towards your master's quarters.

...

"Whoa..."

As the doors whooshed open, you were greeted with a cold, stark sight. The room was entirely black, it's lights a cold white. The table was empty, the bed that was against the wall was entirely too small for your master. The room was devoid of comfort and warmth, at least the kind of warmth that a man with such status should have. There was no furniture whatsoever, aside from the one chair that was near the table. You walked in and immediately shivered. It would appear that not even the heat was on in this room. "How can a man live like this?" you mumbled, feeling pity for your master as you walked towards the cupboards.

The cupboards, which were also a smooth, obsidian hue, were situated on the opposite side of the room, near what you assumed was a sink. You opened one of the cupboards and found...absolutely nothing. His shelves were empty save for a few dust bunnies. The sight concerned you. "How the fuck does he eat or sleep? No, no, this isn't good. Screw it," you shut the cupboard quite forcefully. "He's getting fed and sleeping when he gets back, I don't care how mad he gets."

With that, you swiftly left the room with plans and a grand scheme.

...

"You want me to do what???" Hux choked out after he spat out his tea in shock when I informed him of my plan.

"You don't have to pay for anything, I'll use my own credits, but I think he needs this." you said again. You showed Hux the list you made, as well as the already filled out request papers you had signed. He scrolled through the data pad, reviewing everything you had requested, brows furrowed in concern. "You sure about this, Y/n?" his grey green eyes looking back at yours. You nodded, not changing your mind. This had to be done. Hux sighed. "Fine. I'll have these sent. Everything should arrive before he returns."

You smiled and gave him a hug, earning a surprised "oh!" from him. "Thank you, Armitage!" you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Hux cleared his throat a little, trying to hide the blush that was making it's way onto his face. "Alright, alright, don't get used to it. I'm not in the business of granting everyone's requests. This is a one time deal, since you are paying for everything."

You chuckled and nodded. "Very well, General."

...

The mission had been brutal and Kylo was battered and bruised all over. But when he exited his ship, he walked with his masked head held high. His confident stride, however, held a bit of a slight limp. A shot from a blaster had grazed his calf, leaving him wounded. He tried to ignore the pain, but the could already feel that the bandage his leg was bound with was starting to leak, blood dampening his trousers. Exhausted, he made his way to his quarters, ordering a passing officer to send a medical droid to his room.

Unlike most who returned from battles, looking forward to whatever comfort they had, Kylo knew he had nothing to feel good about returning to. At least, comfort wise. He almost grimaced when he envisioned his baron room, knowing that rest and recovery was not an option. Or so he thought.

When the doors opened, his eyes widened beneath his mask. "What the-"

Kylo walked into the room, looking around in confusion. 'Did I walk into the wrong room?' he asked himself. He turned around for any telltale signs of his presence, and sure enough, there, to the left of the door, was a burnt gash where he had slashed his saber across the metal.

He turned back to the interior of the room, and stared at his new surroundings. The table was no longer empty, but had some bottles of sweet beverages and crisp water on top of it's smooth surface, and there was also a bowl filled with fruits. But that was not all. The tiny bed that Kylo once had, was now replaced with a lavish looking one. The frame appeared to be made from metal materials found and mined from Cantobight or somewhere from that planet's region. The bed posts were tall and had what appeared to be hooks on them, for holding/hanging articles of clothing. Kylo approached the bed and placed his hand on top of the black comforter that covered the bed. All his life, he never had anything quite as nice or comfortable. In fact, he felt he never deserved anything quite like this.

He took his mask off and placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. When he did, he saw a little piece of paper poking out from under one of the pillows. He reached over and pulled it out, recognizing your handwriting right away. As he read your little note, he felt a small smile spread across his weary face. When he was done reading it, he tucked it into his pocket.

That sleep rotation, after the droid had left and gave him the usual programmed "You need to rest" speech, he pulled back the covers, curled up, and for the first time in years, he slept, resting both his body and soul.

-End-

#kylo ren #general hux #armitage hux #hux #Kylo Ren X reader #Kylo Ren fluff #Kylo finally gets some sleep #Reader being kind to Kylo Ren

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sgtmickeyslaughter · 7 months

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65+87 please?

this has been sitting in my drafts for almost a month lol, i hated it when i wrote it but i just stumbled upon it again and realized it was sad to leave it sitting unread even if its not my favorite - so i hope someone enjoys my slightly angsty take on the prompt

65 First Kiss/Date + 87 Unresolved Sexual Tension

If it were anyone else calling Mickey ‘patient’, he’d laugh in their face.

But Ian had brought out much more outlandish qualities in him over the last few months, so it's no surprise that when it comes to him Mickey could find nearly endless patience.

Three months ago, standing in front of Ian with his lungs screaming from the cold air he listened to Ian tell him that yes, this was him breaking up with Mickey.

Mickey looked at Ian for a second. Looked at his pale, shivering form and couldn't find any anger for him. He was fucking heartbroken, and had to turn and look down the street just to take his eyes away.

“Take your meds, Ian” he simply. “Break up with me, sure. I can’t make you love me, I don’t want to. But you have what it takes to get control of this thing, with the meds or therapy or whatever and you’re really, really going to regret it if you don’t just because you were too busy being a mopey asshole to try.”

“Fuck you, Mickey. I’m doing this because I love you, I’m letting you go, you don’t fucking owe me anything.”

Mickey shook his head, indignation finally welling up in his chest. He pushed the gate open harshly and stomped up to stand toe to toe with Ian “you’re doing this for you, because you want it to hurt. You think you deserve it, and you think I deserve it too.”

Ian looked so tired, like he wanted to cry. So Mickey just huffed a sigh, bringing a hand up to his cheek, patting it once before turning to walk away.

“I can’t do it with you watching” Ian said suddenly. “I can't make any promises but if I’m going to try to make it work with the meds and get myself back on track, I need to do it alone.”

Mickey looked back with a huff, he knows that Ian wasn’t trying to be mean, but he couldn’t help but feel like Ian was blaming him. And maybe Mickey was the problem, Fiona and Lip and even little fucking Debbie had told him enough times that Ian needed to be in the hospital.

“But if I can get to a better place, can I come find you?” Ian asked hopefully.

It was like their moods had swapped in a matter of seconds, Mickey just drew his mouth into a tight line, shaking his head slightly. “Let’s not make any promises to each other,” was what he decided on before walking away, back the way he came to crawl back into the den of misplace objects that had taken over his home and get drunk.

The next morning Mickey called over some guys he knew from the moving business that went bust to buy all the suitcase shit and haul it away. He took all the baby stuff Svetlana left behind and shoved it in the attic, working away at a bottle of whiskey as he went.

It was like doing an autopsy to see how fucked up his life had become over the last couple of years. Unearth a condom here, a little baby sock here, Mandy’s blonde hair dye-

Mandy, Mickey realized with a pang of horror. Mandy left and he’d hardly even noticed. He spent the rest of the afternoon calling (almost) everyone Mandy knew and narrowed down where she moved to. He woke up the next day before the sun was completely over the horizon and started driving South East.

Kenyatta might not have seen it in the moment, but he got very lucky that all it took was a bullet in the leg to get Mandy into Mickey’s car.

She got a job at a high end restaurant, as hostess and then quickly moving up to waitress. Mickey started small time dealing again, making just enough cash to cover his meager expenses. They didn’t really hang out for a while, both siblings holed up in their rooms, licking their wounds.

Mandy left him alone until he came home with a busted up face after he missed off the wrong supplier with his big fucking mouth. She hounded him after that, about getting his GED with her, going to community college.

“What are you going to do when dad gets out?” she asked, following him to the kitchen.

“Hope that this stint of fucking guys for a few months liberalized his views on same sex relationships” Mickey snarked back.

“Mickey, come on.”

“Or claim there was a gas leak that made me crazy for dick” he continued sarcastically reaching into the fridge.

“Look Mickey, you’re twenty years old, you have no record as an adult and you should be making an effort to keep it that way unless you want to end up in and out of prison like dad” Mandy said testily, snatching a beer out of his hand.

“What the fuck do you want me to do Mandy?”

“Jesus!” she exploded. “The only thing I’ve ever seen you give a shit about was your stupid fucking boyfriend. You’re worse than me!”

Mickey just stared her down with a brusque fuck you and started walking away.

“He’s getting out in less than a year Mickey,” she warned. “I’m saving up to rent my own place until then, and I suggest you do the same.”

She was right, he knew that and he just wanted to be a pigheaded asshole for a little while longer so he started scrolling through craigslist ads for security until something caught his eye.

He lied through the interview, surprisingly at ease as long as he was able to be pulling a con in some way, even if he was just lying about who he was. He was armed with the knowledge that he’d bribed Linda Karib into saying that he was a valued member of the security staff at her large, upscale market and that Mandy would pick up the phone and follow any lie he’d told them.

“You got a job where?” Mandy asked incredulously, picking up the two suits he’d been given as a uniform from where he’d tossed them on the couch after he was hired.

“The Art Institute” He said around a mouthful of cereal. “You know, the big building on Michigan Ave with the Lions out front.”

“Why the hell did you want to work there?” Mandy asked incredulously.

“It pays more than any other security gig I could get without a GED,” Mickey said. “And it’s like really cool, I’ll be guarding fucking Van Gogh and Michelangelo.”

“Yeah, guarding them from fifth grade class trips,” Mandy teased. “There’s a Michelangelo in Chicago?”

Mickey scowled and sucked his teeth, “you know what I mean.”

Against all odds, Mickey loved his job. He was vigilant enough to keep kids and entitled adults from touching anything they weren’t supposed to, but mostly spent his time rotating with the shift changes, getting exposed to something new and beautiful. Ancient Korean pottery, massive modern canvases, baroque paintings applied to wooden triptychs, and he had a front row seat to all of it.

He had nothing but time to think, he’d start his shift hating the painting across from him, and after a few hours he’d come to understand it, if not like it.

It kept his mind off of Ian, which was important. He’d be reminded of his ex-boyfriend in a particularly golden shade of red, or the odd bright splash of green, but after a while he’d learned to let those thoughts come and then quietly escort them out without any anger or resentment.

In short, four months after Ian broke up with him, Mickey was relatively happy and fulfilled. He had a good relationship with his family (the only member that mattered anyways), a job he liked (well, didn’t totally despise), and modern technology took care of everything else (grindr).

He was getting ready to meet up with a guy from the app when a wrench got thrown into the whole machine. He had showered and gelled his hair, putting on a clean shirt that showed off his arms, he was grabbing his wallet from the kitchen table when he noticed the shock of red hair contrasting with the grey of his living room.

Ian turned around once he’d realized Mickey had come out of his room. Mandy must have let him in, seating him on the couch and leaving him like a sadistic little gift for Mickey to find, the fucking bitch.

Mickey froze, hand outstretched as Ian turned to face him, scrambling up off the couch.

“Hi Mickey,” Ian said breathily, attempting a grin. He looked good, healthy and normal. He looked like the Ian that left Mickey in his room to run off to the army, just a little older.

“Uh” Mickey said, unhelpfully. “What are you doing here?”

Ian surveyed him up and down hesitantly. “Your sister let me in,” he said lamely.

Mickey raised his brows to say not the question I asked, fuckhead.

“Do you want to go get something to eat?” Ian asked nervously.

“I’m not really hungry” Mickey said stupidly, not understanding why Ian was standing in his living room.

Ian deflated slightly “we could get a drink, or just go for a walk or something.”

“What are you getting at, Gallagher?” Mickey asked tiredly.

“I’m trying to ask you on a date” Ian said with a halfhearted smile. “I’ve been on my meds consistently for three months now so I thought-”

“Congrats, Ian that’s really great” Mickey said, bittersweet. “But if you got your shit together because I was gone, I should probably stay away.”

“No!” Ian blurted out. “No, I got better so I could see you again. I wasn’t going to put you through anymore than I already had.”

Mickey didn’t say anything to that, so Ian continued. “I know that I hurt you when I said that I needed to do this alone. But I’ve been working for the past few months to try and become someone I was proud of, so I wouldn’t feel so fucking sick every time you looked at me.”

Taking a deep breath, Mickey tried to calm down. He wanted to yell, he wanted to hug Ian, he wanted to leave and never see him again. But most of all he saw that he was being given the chance to start over, and he wanted to take it.

“Fuck it, yeah, let's go to dinner” he agreed.

“I thought you said you weren’t hungry,” Ian asked curiously, grinning wildly.

“I can always eat,” Mickey said, finally sliding his wallet into his back pocket. “Can we get pancakes?”

“Yeah, hell yeah. Let’s go get some flapjacks” Ian agreed excitedly. “Wait-were you going somewhere?”

“Nah” Mickey dismissed. “Faceless Jonny can murder some other twink tonight.”

Ian laughed. It didn’t have that hyper, nasty quality Mickey had grown to flinch away from.

It seemed like they agreed to set any uneasiness aside for the night so they could sit together and share a stack of pancakes.

He told Ian all about the rescue mission to Indiana, the way Kenyatta charged at him in the living room before he could get his gun out and had to hold his own against the absolute mountain of a man before he managed to get his gun out. He told him about the spring he’d mostly shared with his sister, about the museum.

“You do what?” Ian said, letting out a stalling laugh, nearly choking around a mouthful of bacon.

“Stop laughing, it’s fun and I make good money” Mickey grumbled. “We can’t all be training to save lives.”

“Do you wear the little suit?” Ian asked, ignoring him.

“Do you?” Mickey shot back.

“Not yet but I will,” Ian said proudly.

Ian didn’t share very much about what he’d been doing. Mickey managed to figure out that he was working working at Patsy’s for a while, before he started EMT training, he talked a lot about his family, Debbie getting pregnant and Carl going to juvie, but he had this was of talking around himself that made Mickey realize he probably spent a lot of the last few months pretty miserable.

“So, I mean-this is our first date, right?” Ian asked with a grin, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Yeah, I guess so” Mickey said hesitantly.

“So, tell me stuff I don’t know” Ian said like it was obvious. “You know, siblings, childhood, likes and dislikes.”

Mickey snickered sarcastically leaning back with his arms crossed “number of siblings unknown, childhood was horrific. Likes; guns, redheads, tattoos, dutch renaissance painting, italian futurist sculpture, Bon Jovi, high fructose corn syrup. Dislikes; boston accents, bostson sports teams, men who can’t fight, vegetables that aren’t fried, and any pop song on the top 100.”

Ian grinned wildly, giddy and joyful “That is a very comprehensive run down, A+.”

Mickey chuckled a little, leaning forward and letting out a quick thanks. He turned to Ian and motioned for him to start talking.

“Five siblings. Mixed childhood, mostly good. Likes summer, professional hockey, pop music, thin highlighters, bad boys-hey, don’t kick me!-call of duty, and these days green tea. Dislikes Romantic comedies, football, mood stabilizers, menthol cigarettes, and hoodies without zippers.”

Mickey grinned at his stupid list, and his stupid smiling face. He felt himself getting sucked back into Ian’s magnetic orbit.

“Would you let me take you out again?” Ian asked eagerly. “This was a pretty good first date.”

Reality came crashing down on Mickey again, and he remembered that this wasn’t really their first date, that nothing was normal between them “are you sure you’re ready for-whatever if is you’re trying to get out of this?”

Ian’s face fell, “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I’ve spent the last few months trying to get to this point so I could come back to you.”

Mickey leaned forward to make eye contact with him, trying to decide wether or not to trust him. His eyes were wide and anxious but steady. Taking a deep breath and praying that it wasn’t a mistake.

“Yeah, okay. I believe you,” Mickey agreed. “But I’m not doing this again, if we break up again it’s fucking over, I’m not going to spend the rest of my life running around in circles with you.”

Ian nodded enthusiastically “yeah, no, that makes sense. I don't want to do that either.”

He paid the check and they left together, when they got back to Mickey’s house he nodded up at it with a grin, “come in, Mandy won’t be back until later.”

Hesitating slightly, Ian took a deep breath and paused. “So, I’m totally ready to start dating you, totally ready. And I’ll come up to watch a movie or play video games or just hang out, but I don’t to have sex tonight, or for a little while.”

Looking down at his crotch automatically, Mickey pulled a questioning face.

“It works,” Ian supplied with a blush. “It’s back up and running and everything. I just-once I could finally think clearly, I started getting this really uncomfortable feeling like my body isn’t mine, because I didn’t make choices I’m proud of, all the time. I’m still kind of struggling with that so if we can just go out and not fuck for a while that would be great for me, but-”

“Ian chill out. That’s fine, we can hang out.” Mickey said urgently. “You’ll want to eventually though, right? ‘Cause if this is a never again thing we'll need to figure-”

“No! No, definitely not never again, just like give me a couple weeks” Ian amended.

“Yeah, that’s fine. However long you need” Mickey agreed, walking up the stairs, “come on, I’m gonna’ kick your ass at the new grand theft auto just as bad as all the others.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ian groaned and flopped down on Mandy’s purple comforter.

“What’s got you all moody?” Mandy asked, uncapping a bottle of nail polish.

“Your fucking brother won’t get naked for me” Ian whined.

“Ew! Jesus Ian” Mandy shrieked. “Just apologize for whatever he’s pissed about.”

“He’s not pissed,” Ian insisted. “Why would he be pissed?”

“I don’t know, why else would he be holding out on you?”

“On first date after we broke up, I mean-I guess that was our first date period, I told him I wanted to take it slow, at least with sex. After everything I’d done before getting diagnosed I just-didn’t want to jump into a physical relationship right away” Ian explained.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Mandy agreed.

“Yeah but that was almost three months ago and I have been very ready for a while and making it very fucking clear, but every time he shuts me down.”

“Shuts you down how?” She asked noncommittally, carefully painting her big toe.

“The other night we were making out on the couch so I was trying to take his shirt off and he just pulled it down and looked at me like I was trying to fucking deflower him.”

Mandy let out a laugh, moving on to her other foot “have you tried telling him point blank that you wanna’ bang?”

“Kind of, not in so many words but I’ve tried to imply, in a seductive way, that I am really, really beyond ready and that by balls are starting to hurt.”

“You’re just being dramatic,” Mandy dismissed. “Just tell him what you’re telling me, which is what you should have done a week ago.”

“Yeah, I should have just told him. But now it’s like, weird. Like it’s weird that he’s purposely ignoring the like, big neon sign stuck to my forehead that basically screams I’m horny.”

“Maybe he’s not ready,” she said disinterestedly.

“He was three months ago,” Ian said, eye brows drawn. “So you think I’ve like, turned him off?”

“I have no idea, Ian!” She exclaimed. “I’ve already talked about my brother’s sex life way more than I wanted to this afternoon, it’s weird that you guys sleep in the same bed every other night but don’t have sex. And if you’re not the one with the problem, maybe he is.”

Ian laid back, deep in thought until Mandy kicked him out so she could get ready to work. Mickey got back an hour later, dressed in his dark suit. It didn’t fit him perfectly, but it made the darkness of his hair and eyelashes stand out even more.

He said hi to Ian quickly before disappearing into his bedroom, unaware of Ian perking up and following him. “Mickey?” He asked curiously through the door. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hold on,” came a muffled reply.

“Can I just come in?” Ian asked impatiently.

He waited a beat, then Mickey came out fully dressed in jeans and a teeshirt “jesus, where’s the fire?”

“Why won’t you have sex with me?” Ian blurted out. “I mean, we both want to, unless I’m reading the signs wrong but the sexual tension feels pretty fuckin’ intense.”

Mickey licked his lips and looked away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Ian asked incredulously. “So you’re going to pretend that I haven't been basically practically jumping you every night for the last few weeks?”

“Whatever, you’re the one who didn’t want to have sex” Mickey shot back defensively. “You haven't said anything else since and I know I can be-y'know a little pushy, so I backed the fuck off.”

Ian moved forward quickly, moving to bring both hands up to Mickey’s cheeks and pulling him close before allowing his hands to travel downward slowly until he could tuck his hands comfortably into the back pockets of his jeans. “I get that it’s been weird not having sex, and I really appreciate you being so considerate, but if it’s alright with you I’d like to to back into your bedroom and suck your dick to say thank you for your extraordinary patience.”

From this close, Ian got to actually feel the affect this words had on his boyfriend and watch as his cheeks flushed and pupils dilated sightly. “Yeah,” Mickey nodded, nonchalant like his voice didn’t pitch up a couple octaves. “Yeah, I mean you can do that, if you want.”

Smiling, Ian ran a hand up his back so that he could lead Mickey back through the doorway by the back of his head, rubbing and rocking it lightly, stomach flipping in excitement.

Believe me - I will be revisiting museum security guard mickey again, taking down heists, helping lost kids, and knowing where all the major pieces are so when wimpy little art students like me come in looking for specific pieces he can give directions -the possibilities are endless.

link to AO3

#gallavich #shameless #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich fanfic #sgt says #prompt game

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namusthetic · 8 months

Text

Marauders' Era

The Slytherin Skittles

From the Marauders' Era fandom. Decided to lounge about in the Slytherin common room? Join the Skittles for a late night Slytherin chat.

Regulus A. Black

"From far away I wish I'd stayed with you, but here face to face, a stranger that I once knew.

I thought if I wandered I'd fall back in love. You said distance brings fondness, but guess not with us."

- Astronomy, Conan Gray

Doesn't ask for help

Overachiever

Covers his deep insecurities with a god-complex

Abandonment and trust issues

Suffers panic and anxiety attacks, the others know exactly what to do when it happens and huddle around him, holding hands and grounding him, until he starts breathing normally again and stops shaking

Protective of his chosen family

Instead of fighting to keep people in his life, he lets them go because in the end he thinks he's never enough to stay for

Hates loud noises and making noise when moving or walking

Deeply misunderstood

Tries to remain detached and cold as much as possible because knows he'd end up caring too deeply

Self-isolates when he doesn't know how to deal with his feelings, luckily, whenever that happens, the others storm his usual hiding spots and force him to go outside and enjoy himself

Escapes from his own thoughts by reading or listening to music compulsively

Barty Crouch Jr.

"I used to like liquor to get me inspired but you look so beautiful, my new supplier. I used to like smoking to stop all the thinking, but I found a different buzz.

The world is a curse, it'll kill if you let it I know they got pills that can help you forget it, they bottle it, call it medicine, but I don't need drugs. 'Cause I'm already high enough, you got me, you got me good."

- High Enough by K. Flay

covers his need for attention and approval with loudness and chaos

Fear of missing out

Afraid that people will forget about him and leave him behind

Avoids talking and thinking about his own feelings

Cannot control his emotions when overwhelmed

Hides it when deeply hurt

Clingy drunk, cries if left by himself

Has a soft spot for pets, especially dogs (once he even accidentally cuddled Padfoot without knowing it was actually Sirius)

Hopeless romantic when in a serious relationship

Incredibly intelligent, he just doesn't want to please his father in any way so he acts out

Jokes about his trauma in public, but ends up sleeping in Evan's bed whenever he has nightmares

ADHD kid

Makes dirty jokes all the time but is afraid of having a stable relationship and not being enough for his partner

Evan Rosier

"And hey, you, don't you think it's kinda cute that I (I) died (died) right inside your arms tonight? That I'm fine even after I have died? Because it was in your arms I died.

I cry in the afterlife, I cry hard because I have died, and you're alive. I try to escape afterlife, I try hard to get back inside your arms alive."

- Arms Tonite by Mother Mother

Calm and collected most of the time

Silent anger

Insomniac, spends the nights reading and listening to chill music

Deadly afraid of spiders, always asks Pandora to take them outside

Energy drinks and caffeine

If looks could kill

Tries to keep everyone from getting in trouble together with Dorcas

Doesn't pay attention in class but gets good grades anyway

Grew up too quickly

Joins Barty and Dorcas whenever they are tipsy and start a singing contest

Likes nights out with friends, randomly walking with no precise destination, a few drinks in hand and the warmth of chosen family around him

The observant, silent one

Always carries small perfume vials since he can't stand smells (sweat, cigarette smoke, etc.)

Pandora Rosier

"You don't have to be like everybody else, you don't have to fit into the norm, you are not here to conform. I am here to take a look inside myself, recognize that I could be the eye, the eye of the storm.

I am not my body, not my mind or my brain (ha), not my thoughts or feelings, I am not my DNA. I am the observer, I'm a witness of life, I live in the space between the stars and the sky."

- Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land by MARINA

Already figured who was going to end up in a relationship with whom years before it happened

Has a private gardening spot where she grows their own plants (especially herbs)

Follows the lunar calendar instead of the solar one, they all celebrate both new years with big parties

Wears long airy dresses with flower patterns and a dozen crystal necklaces and rings

Talks enthusiastically about everything she's passionate about with no restraints (and everyone loves listening to her talk)

Knows weird knowledge nobody knows from where

Walks Hogwarts' halls singing and with a spring in her step

Spends afternoons in the forest sketching fantastic beasts and feeding them treats

Loves making flower crowns, Regulus wears them whenever she makes one for him and hexes anyone who dares say something about it

Always has paint on her hands or face

Dorcas Meadowes

"Say my name, as every colour illuminates. We are shining, and we will never be afraid again.

And when we come for you, we'll be dressed up all in blue, with the ocean in our arms, kiss your eyes and kiss your palms.

And when it's time to pray, we'll be dressed up all in grey, with metal on our tongues, and silver in our lungs."

- Spectrum (Say My Name) by Florence and The Machine

Hates small talk and superficial friendships

Direct, immediately cuts straight to the point

Politically active against all kinds of discrimination and violence

Strong and determined to achieve what she wants

Ready to argue with anyone, anytime, anywhere

Knows exactly what she wants

Stays up late to read and listen to music in the common room

Has everything planned out

Neon lights and cocktails, loud music and cherry flavored lip balm

Travels a lot but is ready to return home immediately if one of her close friends needs her help

Elegant style, always impeccably dressed

Storms out of the dorm and takes a long walk whenever she feels she can't control her anger

Loves to listen to true crime podcasts

------------------------💚🐍

So I love the Marauders' gang, but (I don't know if you guessed it) I really have a soft spot for the Skittles. To me they feel like the ones who never really even had a chance to be saved, who were left to fend for themselves and to die just because of their families and house. They were damaged as much as the others but found no one to help them but each other.

#aestethic #slytherin skittles #regulus black #the marauders era #moodboard #character aesthetics #types of people #tag yourself #tag your aesthetic #slytherin #dorcas meadowes #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #pandora rosier #pandora lovegood #song lyrics #rosekiller

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nerdieforpedro · 6 months

Text

Day Twenty Nine - Brick House

Word Count: 624

Warnings: mention of past drug use, fertility issues, mention of sperm donation and clinics, false pretenses, Dieter might be a bit obsessed or a lot

Notes: I wasn’t sure where this was going. I read @fhatbhabie ‘s Dieter fic where he’s being a dad and @wannab-urs has me listening to all the Hozier for her challenge. This is where we are people. We’re on my second D which is Dieter, my first D is Din.

Main Masterlist / March Spring Prompts 2024 / Writing Challenges

A safe place for the both of you is what Dieter Bravo wanted. Finally in the spring, the house was ready. He'd studied your likes and dislikes, favorite colors, asked his assistants and interior designer to decorate according to what you wanted. He believed he had to make things perfect for you. Bravo is aware he’s not - far from it. He has numerous issues with drugs, the law, his career. Never stopping, never slowing down. Always moving forward and not always in a positive direction.

Never would he have expected your request. Dieter was aware of your search, your dream. It wasn’t uncommon but you’d convinced yourself that it would never happen. The doctor had told you there was little chance of it happening ever. Still you believed despite your fears. Dieter watched your perseverance in awe. The idea of you getting what you needed from some donor that you’ve never met kept him up at night. More than the last flop he’d made. It more than paid for renovating the brick house over the last eight months and he was willing to do another one if it meant that he could afford to keep you in that house on bedrest for the last month like you were supposed to be and get him some new oil paints from this one Italian supplier he favored.

You asked if he’d be your moral support as you went to one of the clinics, if he’d hold your hand as you went through the door. Dieter suggested that he could have a physical now that he’s been healthy for a good bit and give you a donation that was more likely to take. He swore that it’s the only form of support he would give you, besides being your friend of course. The clinic thankfully made the process feel ‘impersonal’ as you put it. Bravo knew the first try he was hoping it wouldn’t take, just to be able to have you again. Over two months, he only missed two ‘bun in the oven’ appointments with you and suggested some extra, you know just in case.

It was wrong. He should have felt guilty. Dieter did not and would not. He’d use this process to show you and himself that he could be relied on, constant, strong, like the house he bought you.

He’d gotten you to agree to put his name on the birth certificate and he had his schedule cleared for the most part so he could be wherever you needed him to be. In the room, outside, in the parking lot of the hospital.

Climbing the stairs and walking to the master bedroom he was able to talk you into sharing with him because, rubbing oil on your belly helped calm you and lull you to sleep after proper placement of pillows, he crept toward the door. Your sleeping form was rare to see during the day, among a mountain of pillows and blankets you’ve kicked off because you get hot then cold. Dieter watched your chest rise and fall softly, he had taken a few pictures and saved them on his phone of you at first but that wasn’t enough. Leaving to grab his sketchbook he’d need to draw it, then he may be able to paint this moment later.

This moment that despite the lies and reasons covered under the pretext of helping you with your dream, you were giving Dieter Bravo his - a family with you. Maybe you’ll be mad at him later or even laugh it off but after the baby is safely here, he’ll tell you everything. That you’ve been his ambition for years and regardless of people thinking he’s a scatterbrain, he can focus quite well - on you.

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo x plus size reader #Nerdie fic #March #March Spring prompts #day twenty nine #brick house

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sixteen-sugars · 6 months

Text

Who Are You (Really?)

a dead plate hannibal au

AUX: misery meat - sodikken

Credit: @lcg-lgc

Rody felt his feet skid on the floor as he pushed the door open with his shoulder. A litany of curses filled his head as he frantically checked his watch. I have to be in Quantico in 15 minutes . Vincent had held him late showing him his latest dish, deer tartare topped with a quail egg, where do you even get deer? The beautifully plated tartare turned into a weird slush in his backpack, and just as he went to hop onto his Vespa, it sputtered and died. To try to revive the motorcycle, he attempted to hit the side with his heel. All the key did was spark in the ignition. So, Rody had to make a run for it home.

The cherry on top was getting a call from Jack just as he was frantically untying his shoes, hands fumbling, he answered the phone,

“We have a new case, we're hoping you could be in the lab in 10,” Jack said tersely, leaving no room for complaint.

“Yeah, yeah of course”

Rody took what might be the fastest shower ever, checking his watch, panicking as every minute seemed to pass by slightly faster than the last. Stumbling, he reached blindly into his questionably clean pile of clothes. The haste resulted in a ratty flannel, with a stain of fish guts on the right cuff, and a pair of washed jeans.

Rody walked through the doors of Quantico with 30 seconds to spare,

“Now, Jack, what do you need me so urgently for…”

His voice trailed off as he saw what, or who was on the evidence table. He drew a breath. She was the sixth victim in the last two months and just the same as the five before her; wind-chafed, plain but pretty with auburn hair, trademark Minnesota Shrike. Jack continued his spiel,

“We need you on the case, you’re the best we have,”

Rody wrought his clammy hands,

“I can do this, but this is the last one, I have a life outside of this,”

Jack nodded,

“This will be the last one,” He put his hand on his heart, “Scout’s Honor”

He said that the last five times, Rody could only sigh as he preemptively mourned the next nights of sleep.

The file felt like it was made of lead in his backpack as he headed towards his shift at Vincent's restaurant. It was like the girls were holding onto his ankles as he scurried around, serving and bussing. The only time he got a moment to think was when he was taking out the trash. The cold air bit his cheeks as he fought to open the dumpster without covering himself in trash juice. He thought about her , the crime scene as it came back hit him like a semi-truck. Her pale limbs seemed to reach for him as he tried to close the dumpster, the slam rung in the twilight like a death knell.

Just as he bussed the last table, Vincent came up to him with another elaborate dish, presented with an almost bow,

“This Antelope is served with stewed collard greens and deglazed carrots,”

“Antelope?”

“Yes, My supplier got some exotic cuts recently,”

“Cool…”

As Rody trailed off he took the dish in his sweaty palms. Being around Vincent was like being around a caged lion. Held back by his instincts and fear, but still scary nonetheless. Vincent was all grace and long limbs as he presented Rody with the Antelope. Rody nervously laughed,

“I feel all this effort for plating is going to waste, when in my backpack it all runs together,” Vincent almost balked,

“No, sometimes the plating isn't just to enjoy, it is to see the result, beauty in the infinitesimal,”

Rody quickly took the dish and scraped it into his stained tupperware and bid Vincent goodbye as he hopped on his Vespa, the Antelope already shaken in his ragged backpack.

That night, the light of the desk lamp was drilling into his already tired eyes, clammy hands pushing back auburn curls as the words inside the file all swam together. His computer was open to College directories to try to track down the Minnesota Shrike’s next victim. In the field, Rody was painfully average. He was an okay shot, and could collect evidence as well as the next, but what he was given acclaim for, was for his focus. When he was given a case, it was all he could think about, he would throw himself wholeheartedly into the investigations.

Rody’s dreams were full of deer with bloody antlers, dark and shifting. He turned over and saw her, next to him, glassy eyed; mouthing words Rody couldn't understand. Rody bolted upright, patting the bed, checking for unwanted companions. Instead, all he found was his ratty comforter and a shirt he accidentally left out on the bed. Rody shivered nonetheless, taking a hot shower to quell the goosebumps.

Poking at his now much more pronounced eyebags, He buttoned his white dress-shirt up. Donning the black slacks and socks required by Vincent. Picking up his backpack on his way out, and hopping on his Vespa, he sped off to work.

Rody wasn't able to look at the case until early afternoon. It was the tail end of the morning rush and not yet lunch, so the only people in the restaurant were an elderly couple who were brunch regulars. He chewed on his already abused ballpoint pen, red ink staining his lips like fresh blood. There was an idea sloshing in his frontal cortex. Maybe the girl in the field wasn't the Shrike’s victim. Even though it followed the previous patterns, something was off. He drummed his fingers on the lacquered table in thought.

He was startled when Vincent put his hand down next to him and looked over Rody’s shoulder like the nosey person he is. Rody tried to cover up the file, it was classified FBI information.

“I think I’ve seen that before, maybe on the news, this one seems different from the others,” noted Vincent.

“That’s why I think this is a Copycat Killer,”

“What evidence showed you that conclusion?”

Rody thought about how to phrase his answer as not to come across like he was insane,

“This one just felt different, the Shrike, he loved those girls but this Copycat, the body was treated like livestock. This Copycat is a killing machine, he sees these girls not as objects of love, but as pigs,”

Vincent looked lost in thought and just as he was going to remark, a party of 8 came through the door. Personable Vincent was gone and now it was Chef Vincent as he went back to his lair in the kitchen. Rody went back to the meek bubbly server.

The dish that night was cold-smoked pork with a side of roasted mexican street corn. Vincent had changed the meals to be better eaten cold, still presented with the same beauty and care. Given the reverence of a in-house shrine to a forgotten god, dusted and maintained but without the original purpose. Even though the god was gone, Rody could still taste the care and reverence in the food. He could even see Vincent painstaking basting the pork and smelling the wood chips. He felt the microwave annihilated the flavor, but cold pork seemed worse.

Rody smiled sheepishly, the Shrike’s file had gotten stained from a wayward piece of corn. Before Jack could yell at him for staining evidence, Rody gave a peace offering of new insight,

“Jack, he loves these girls, the body in the field isn't the Shrike, it’s a Copycat, I just needed to see the Copycat to see what made the Shrike,”

Jack looked at him, nodding,

“Any insight into where the Shrike is from. What he does,” He punctuated with a handwave.

Rody nodded vigorously,

“Yes, yes, the Shrike is a man, he is a father, he loves those girls not in a… sexual way. But, as daughters, as things he could never keep,”

Jack seemed satisfied with Rody’s insights thus far,

“We had forensics look into the wounds and clothes of the victims, they found some pipe-threading metal. We have a lead,”

He seemed happy at that, the cat in the game had zeroed in on the mouse. Rody had neglected to mention Vincent’s insight on the Copycat. Letting himself bask in the warm light of victory and appreciation a little longer.

Now that forensics made a lead, Rody was taking his ‘work’ to work. Worn backpack overstuffed with the resumes from every single pipe-threader in Minnesota. His Vespa skidded as he turned into the restaurant's parking lot with 5 minutes to spare. Unceremoniously shoving his bag into his locker, he clocked in.

Rody felt dead on his feet this shift. Customers were more snappy than usual, it seemed they were sending every other plate back to the kitchen. The dress shoes Vince insisted he wear pinched even more. Rody was over it. The cherry on top was spilling the dozen of resume files all over the sticky breakroom ground. Of course, Vince had to be there to witness Rody’s frantic shoving of the files back into his locker.

“More ‘top secret’ FBI files Rody? You’re getting sloppy…”

“These are just resumes,” Rody shot back defensively.

“Still looking for the Shrike?” Vincent glanced down at the pictures of the workers.

“Yeah, we just got a lead, the Copycat really helped,” Rody admitted.

For a few seconds, Rody deliberated, should I tell him my hunch…Or just keep it to myself .

“So, off the record, you wanna know what I think about the Copycat?”

Vincent looked more invested than usual in Rody’s ‘crime shenanigans’, actually making eye contact, and blase barely-recognition,

“Sure, what has your brain cooked up this time?”

Rody almost vibrated, this was the first time testing his ‘theory’

“So, I think this Copycat is the Chesapeake Ripper. What I felt, when I saw her in the field, was unique to the Ripper murders I saw when I was in training. He holds so much contempt for them, it was almost palpable,”

Vincent’s eyes widened, he cocked his head,

“Really, how intriguing,”

He added nothing else, and spun on a heel, disturbing the piles of paper. Rody sighed and went to cram them back into his locker.

The dinner-rush was a fraction of the hell of the afternoon, it was about as nice as working in customer service, so hell but in like the cold circle. Customers were heavy tippers as they left, dresses sparkling in the fluorescent lights. The dish offered to him tonight was a ‘breakfast’ for dinner with homemade sausage. Into the tupperware it went. The lid snapped as Rody hummed the Bach that was playing earlier.

At home, the scramble was reheated as he poured over the resumes, little progress was being made. Everybody looked the same, nothing was out of the ordinary. Just as he was going to give up, words began to run together in his tired brain. He saw something, a lead. Rody traced the letters and under his breath said,

“Garret Jacob Hobbs, there’s my Minnesota Shrike,” a daughter that was wind-chafed and had brown hair, a carbon-copy of all the other girls. No address was listed, but Rody went up that weekend to do some house to house interviews. Vincent was with him, Rody had to borrow his car, and Vince didn't trust him to drive. Looking at his Vespa, it made sense. They were at the office at the construction site Rody got the papers from, Rody was talking to the lady who worked there about if she knew anything about Hobbs. Turns out he lived only a 5-minute drive away from where they were.

He and Vince pulled into the gravel driveway, tires crunching. The house was dated, with 70s style window panes and faded drapes. A man looked to be on the phone inside with a silhouette of another shorter woman. Rody laid his hand on his holster in preparation, and knocked. Presenting his temporary badge,

“This is agent Rody Lamoree, FBI, come out with your hands up,”

Hearing nothing from inside the house, Rody extended his arms into the weaver stance, looking down the sight of the gun. Then, he and Vincent went into the Kitchen and saw Hobbs with his daughter. He was holding a knife to her neck, as she mouthed words too fast for Rody to read her lips. Hobbs leveled a stare at Rody as he shook, he was always too squeamish to work homicide.

Vincent stood behind him like a shadow, observing as Rody panicked. Then, the silence broke like shattering glass as Rody shot Hobbs in the hand leaving the man reeling. Hobbs’s back hit the cabinet with a thud as the other gunshots echoed. After his ears stopped ringing, Rody heard Abigail choking on the ground, her throat gaping open, blood spilling out onto the linoleum floor, her chest stilled.

Rody heard a low whistle, he startled as he remembered Vincent was standing behind him, Vince spoke,

“10 bullets Rody? You’re getting rusty, what happened to your academy days?”

“ Well , getting stabbed in your shoulder will do that do you,”

“Anyways, let's call the police and get in the car, I have to make the marinade for the pork tomorrow,”

The Police showed up minutes later, lights flashing and sirens blaring. That night Rody couldn't sleep, Abigail showing up behind his eyes, mouthing and pleading as she bled out. All Rody wanted to do that morning was stay in bed, but the bills won’t pay themselves. So, up he went, sipping his drip-coffee and blindly stabbing at his soggy eggs, eyes still bleary. Rody spaced out, just as he was nodding off at the table his chin hit his chest, and he snapped awake, he looked at the clock,

“I’m late, my god , Vincent is gonna kill me,”

#hannibal #dead plate #fusion #ao3 #fanfic

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osworld9 · 9 months

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Walk in Cold Rooms Manufacturers mumbai

Walk-in Cold Room

#Walk-in Cold Room #Walk-in Cold Room manufacturers #Walk-in Cold Room manufacturers in Mumbai #Walk-in Cold Room manufacturers in India #walk in cold rooms Walk-in Cold Room #walk in cold room manufacturers #walk in cold room manufacturers in Mumbai #walk in cold room manufacturers in india #Walk-in Cold Room exporters #Walk-in Cold Room exporters in Mumbai #Walk-in Cold Room exporters in India #Walk-in Cold Room suppliers #Walk-in Cold Room suppliers in Mumbai #Walk-in Cold Room suppliers India

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purplevortexx · 2 years

Text

act two, scene one: break a leg

Exit, Pursued By A Rooster - Masterlist

summary: after your revelation, things start to come to a head with you and Lila, and you find comfort from an unlikely source.

warnings: swearing, yelling, reader feeling like she’s going completely insane, stalking(?)

words: 2.7k

a/n: it’s FINALLY here, welcome to act 2! It’s been a real tough one to get out but I’ve done it and we’re back on track.

A special big thanks to @call-sign-jinx for helping me get out of my EPBAR rut!! 🫶

You’re so blinded by pure anger, you stay up all night trying to piece together everything Lila has been doing to you. Every time you decipher another of the things she’s been doing to you, the same question comes floating back into your head - why? You still can’t work out what her endgame is here, how does Lila see this ending. You mull over the question in your head all night, brain ticking as you silently feel yourself becoming more irate the more you think of the whole situation.

Unfortunately, you can’t seem to shut your brain off and calm down enough to sleep so you plan your confrontation. You know she’s usually around the Hard Deck when you arrive for work so you plan to challenge Lila about everything that’s been going on as soon as you get there.

⇰

When you enter the Hard Deck before your shift the next day, it just so happens that the first person you see is the devil herself. You storm into the bar, beelining straight for Lila, ready to give her a piece of your mind.

Fortunately for Lila, Penny cuts you off mid-stride. “Oh Y/N, you’re here, great!” She greets you as you walk in the door. “I need to meet with some suppliers in like an hour. Could you just show Lila the ropes, maybe train her up a little?” You gaze snaps from the smug looking brunette to her godmother as you try to process her words.

“I’m sorry, what?” You question.

“Lila’s starting work here today.” Penny clarifies, looking between her goddaughter and you. If she notices the look of pure horror pass over your face, she doesn’t say anything but she does raise her eyebrows when you come out with a sharp “Why?” In response.

“Well she needed the money and we could do with another set of hands around here right?” No, you think, we’re doing just fine ourselves. But you nod despite yourself and give Penny a tight smile.

“Look Y/N you’re the best worker I’ve got, please can you just help her get the hang of things?”

It’s a good job you really like Penny “Sure, I’ll train her,” you say, smile dropping as you turn to Lila. Penny leaves, muttering something about playing nice as she departs.

When Penny is out of sight, you snap your gaze to Lila, looking her straight in the eyes with a cold stare. “I don’t know exactly what the fuck it is you’re trying to do but you need to back off.” You tell her and your tormentor has the nerve to just smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your blood boils at the faux innocent reply that spills from her lips. Her face pulls into a smirk as she moves into the back room to grab some more peanuts. You grab her wrist harshly to stop her movements.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. The keys last night, messing with my time off, my fucking tyres!” You list off, growing angrier by the second.

Lila wrenches her arm from your grasp and instead of being defensive and arguing back like you’d expected she just smiles wider and says two words to you. “Prove it.”

You splutter, taken aback by her words. Staring each other out, you go to launch into the evidence of all the trouble she’s been causing you but stop before any words come out if your mouth. Lila smirks in triumph as you realise that there is no proof. , There is no way to prove that she’s done anything to you at all. You nearly groan in exasperation as you wonder how in the hell she’s managed to cause you this much anxiety without leaving so much as a crumb of anything that could be linked back to her.

“Now we’ve got that cleared up,” Lila says, rubbing the wrist you’d grabbed. “If you could show me how to do my job, that’d be great.” She turns, going to grab the peanuts but stops. “Oh and Y/N, you’d better train me well. I’m pretty sure Penny wouldn’t want her ‘best worker’ messing up,” she lets out a malicious chuckle before adding “… again,” and flouncing off, cackling like the wicked witch of the west.

The hours of training Lila before opening were a real test of your willpower. You lost count of the amount of times snide comments had come out of her mouth, it’s a miracle you didn’t slap that smug look straight off her face. Though ironically, and rather irritatingly she wasn’t a bad worker, or at least she wasn’t when you were alone.

When patrons start entering the bar somehow she completely forgets the entirety of the training you’ve given her. It would frustrate you anyway but knowing what you do, it just makes you absolutely livid.

In the space of about 3 hours, Lila manages to break at least 7 glasses, mess up multiple orders, all the while driving you up the fucking wall. You may hate her but you’ve got to admit this girl is insanely good at multitasking. You’ve never been run this ragged on a shift before. Penny was supposed to be on tonight to help you out but she’d texted earlier on to say she was stuck with the suppliers so it’s just you and the she-devil.

When the amount of customers coming in slows slightly, you take the opportunity to go on your break. You pour yourself a lemonade and make your way into the back to sit down. As you shift your weight from your legs you sigh in content, feeling the aches in your feet start to become more prominent now you’re resting. You roll your ankles from side to side to release some of the tension, wincing as you hear them crack.

Not even one sip into your lemonade, you hear a call of your name coming from the bar. Making your way out of the back room, you notice Lila who has somehow managed to open the dishwasher where the dirty glasses are being washed and now there’s water all over the bar floor.

As you approach you notice Lila has feebly started trying to mop up the water. “Jesus Lila, are you incapable of keeping the bar standing for five minutes on your own?” She turns at the sound of your voice which makes her fling the mop around, it’s wet head making a loud ‘smack’ as it makes contact with your cheek.

You stand there for a good few seconds, before wrenching the mop out of her grip. “That’s it, go do something else.” Your tone is clipped and cold, gaining the attention of Payback, Fanboy and Bob who have appeared at the bar.

“But Y/N I’m only trying to help.” That faux innocent look is back, her brown eyes resemble those of a doe as she looks at you. “It’s just all so new to me,” she cries, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I don’t care, just go somewhere I don’t have to clean up after you, ok?” You say, a double meaning to your words

After Lila moves away, you turn back to the three pilots, all of whom have the same unreadable look on their faces.

“What?” You ask defensively, even though you already have a pretty good guess as to what they’re going to say.

“Y/N that was pretty harsh.” Bob says quietly, eyeing Lila’s retreating form.

Payback adds “Yeah, it’s only her first day.”

“Listen,” you lean forward over the bar, lowering your voice. “For reasons you three cannot even begin to comprehend, I don’t like Lila. In fact, I’d probably go as far as to say she is what’s wrong with my life right now so if you could all mind your own business that would be really fucking great.”

Payback and Fanboy both raise their hands in mock surrender, deciding to remove themselves from the path of your destruction. Bob just looks a bit bewildered at your harsh words and quickly stammers his order of three beers for him and the two other aviators that have abandoned ship. He thanks you with a quick smile and slips away as quickly as possible.

As you watch him walk away, you see Payback and Fanboy already stood talking to Bradley. They look over at you and it’s pretty obvious what they’re talking about. You smile and wave at your boyfriend which he returns but then he turns back to his conversation.

⇰

Hangman watches as Payback and Fanboy talk to Rooster, not missing the weird look they all give you. When the duo of Payback and Fanboy retreat to get their beers from Bob, Jake takes his opportunity. “What was that about?” He asks, walking up to stand beside Rooster, who’s eyes are now back on you as you rush around the bar.

“Nothing, man” Rooster mutters, his gaze still fixed on you.

Jake looks between you and him, “didn’t look like nothing.”

Bradley moves his gaze to Hangman, realising he’s not going to go away until he gets some sort of explanation. “It’s just, Y/N.” He starts, “she’s been on this ‘Lila hating’ rampage since she met her. She’s changed so much in the last week, I’m just worried about her y’know?” Hangman nods thoughtfully, listening to Roosters concerns.

“D’you know why she hates Lila so much?”

Rooster scoffs, “she thinks Lila’s out to get her or something. She’s just being paranoid.” He shrugs it off. “I just want my girlfriend back.” Bradley says dejectedly, his gaze resting on you again.

“What if she’s not being paranoid?” Jake asks.

The barriers that he’s knocked down with the short conversation go straight back up again at Jake’s question. “Fuck off Hangman, I’m not joking around about this.”

Jake shrugs calmly, “Neither was I.”

Rooster states at him for a minute, as if contemplating what to say. “Just… just stay out of it, alright?” He warns and takes off in the direction of the pool table.

Honestly Jake wishes he was the kind of person who could leave things alone but he isn’t. He watches you thoughtfully, noting the exhaustion written all over your face. He feels bad for you, it definitely looks like you’re having a hard time but he can’t help you because he doesn’t know what’s going on. And Jake Seresin doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on.

⇰

After a draining shift both mentally and physically, you almost forget your plans to meet Jake at the coffee shop the next morning. This results in you being about 15 minutes later than your agreed time. You spot Jake as soon as you walk in. He’s hard to miss being a 6’0” blond twirling that stupid toothpick in his mouth. You get a couple of stares from around the room as you sit down with him. “I’m so sorry, I just - uh I woke up late, then I couldn’t remember where I put my phone and when I got halfway here I realised I forgot to text so i-“

“Y/N,” Jake cuts of your rambling gently. “It’s alright. I uh- didn’t order you anything, didn’t know what you’d like so…” you look even more frazzled than you did at the bar yesterday and that concerns him.

“You alright?” Hangman asks kindly, and you pull your lips up into a small smile.

“Honestly no,” you tell him, “but it doesn’t matter, I’ll figure it out.”

“This about Lila?” He probes further and you frown in question. “Uh.. Rooster mentioned you guys haven’t been getting along?”

You chuckle humourlessly. “It’s a little more complicated than that.” You tell him. “Anyway, I only have like an hour so let’s get party planning!”

Hangman sighs, taking in your flustered state and decides to say what’s on his mind. “Look I know it’s none of my business but I know girls like Lila, I’ve dated them and they can really fuck with your head.” He tells you and your forced smile drops.

“I- I’m fine.” You tell him, even though you know he doesn’t believe your words and honestly you don’t either.

He sighs softly, his green eyes looking at you in sympathy, “we both know that’s bullshit.” You go to protest but he carries on. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but I’m here… Y’know if you need anything.” Those words coming out of Jake Seresin’s mouth is the last thing you expected to happen to day but you smile at the kind gesture.

“Thanks Jake, I just…” you pause, trying to find the words. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I haven’t really slept all week. I never know what’s gonna go wrong next and now I’m questioning myself all the time and it’s like I don’t have anyone I can trust.” You put your head in your hands. “Every time something happens, someone else looks at me like I’m insane and-“ You cut yourself off with a sob. Tears of frustration spring to your eyes and you wipe furiously at them with your sleeves. “I’m so sorry.” You say, “we came here to plan Bradley’s birthday and here I am sobbing into my coffee.”

Hangman chuckles dryly. “It’s alright, sounds like you needed to get it off your chest.” He digs around in his pocket until he brings out a packet of tissues which he extends towards you in an offer. You take them gratefully, sending Jake a warm smile.

⇰

Nearly an hour and 2 cups of coffee later you and Hangman have finished planning the party and are gathering your things to leave. “So I’ll text Ally and let her know the supplies you need. There’s not that much on the list so hopefully she should get them to you on the morning of the party.”

You nod in confirmation, making a note to look out for a message from Jake’s cousin. “Awesome, thanks so much for this.” You tell him and he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Just don’t give up on the whole Lila thing, it’ll all come to light eventually. She can’t keep doing whatever it is she’s doing with no consequences.” Your eyes start to water again at the thought of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Jake notices and quickly wraps you up in a comforting hug.

“Hey, hey, no tears.” He says, shushing you as if consoling a small child. “She’s not worth it yeah?”

You nod, pulling away from Jake and wiping you sleeves under your eyes, “Y’know Hangman,” you start, looking up at him. “You’re not so bad at this whole comforting thing,”

He chuckles nervously, the cocky façade slipping momentarily at the compliment. “Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to uphold.” You shake your head in mock annoyance and smile before moving to part ways with the blond pilot.

“Bye Jake,” you say warmly and he smiles back at you.

“Remember what I said,” he looks at you seriously, “don’t let the physchos win!” He exclaims, probably louder than he meant to judging by the wide eyed looks you’re getting from passers by. Although with Hangman, you wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted everyone in the area to pay attention. You nod at him in understanding and start walking to your car, giving him a small wave as you make your way down the street.

After chatting with Jake, you feel lighter than you have all week and you can actually smile without it being forced. You glance back to see his blond head disappearing round the corner, the way he moves almost making it look like he’s walking the catwalk at a fashion show. You shake your head fondly at his retreating form. Who’d have thought that Hangman would be the one who would listen? Certainly not you.

As you walk further down the street, trying to remember where you parked your car, you fail to notice Lila stood on the opposite side of the road to the coffee shop. She smiles smugly to herself, reviewing the picture she has taken before pressing send on the message she has up on her phone. Watching you step into your car with a content smile on your face she almost wants to laugh.

Here you are thinking things will get better and they’re about to get a whole lot worse…

⤆ act one; scene three | act two; scene two ⤇

✵ please let me know if anyone wants to be added to the tag list ✵

tag list: @call-sign-jinx @multi-fandom5 @isakyakiisak @katieshook02 @mak-32 @ihrtyw @tylerjones98 @lonnie2390147 @xoxabs88xox @whateverbagman @topguncultleader @misshoneypaper @kiarabellerum31

#top gun: maverick #rooster x reader #EPBAR #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster fic #rooster bradshaw #top gun fic #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster #top gun maverick #top gun fics #tgm fic #rooster tgm #rooster fanfic

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cantuscorvi · 11 months

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He couldn’t hide his excitement while he left his guest room, for once his face betrayed happiness. It was his day off, a Sunday when the weather was nice. He had been waiting for his bike to get fixed, and it had been delivered from the garage that very morning, with a new set of helmets and gloves he had directly bought from an Italian supplier. He wanted to have a ride in nature, perhaps have a nap under the trees and find a good place to eat for dinner; after all, his day off meant he didn’t have to be a bodyguard anymore.

Yet, as soon as he crossed Raum’s way, surprisingly up for a Sunday morning, there was a moment of hesitation. For once, he was clueless regarding what he should do. Raum wasn’t the kind of person to directly ask for attention, he would show it, demand it, and the curiosity blooming in his blue eyes was palpable despite his silence. After all, it was rare for Gabriele to have his hair down and a leather jacket with casual jeans, he was the kind of man to always be in tuxedos and formal clothes. “I have received my bike.” He explained, his accent showing, his voice slightly raspy due to the lack of talking.

Was he justifying himself? He didn’t know exactly why, but it felt urgent and needed. He paused and turned around, his eyes falling on the visible marks left a few days ago on Raum’s neck. He was the author of those bites… And since then, like always, a wall of coldness was back between them, the two of them unable to grasp the bond they had nor the deepness of their mutual attraction. Gabriele turned around, thought that it was for the best to leave it that way, but when he reached the main entrance, he made up his mind again and walked back to the kitchen. “I have two helmets,” he said, as he stood in front of the kitchen island. “You know… It’s a beautiful day outside.”

@distopea

Raum watched Gabriele bustle around the apartment over the rim of his coffee cup and felt something strange gnaw at his insides. He looked almost like a different man right now, with the change in his clothes and demeanour, the way he was unable to hide the little curve of his lips that signified his excitement. He seemed lighter, somehow — shaking off the stiffness and air of formality that usually hung around him.

Raum didn’t ask what had him so chipper. He didn’t need to. It was Gabriele’s day off, after all. Naturally, anyone would be pleased to have time to themselves to do as they wished. He was free from the burden of his duties for the day — from the burden of Raum, and all that guarding him entailed. Of course, he would take the opportunity to indulge in something he enjoyed, and he had informed Raum weeks before that he had sent the bike in for repair.

“I see,” was the only neutral response he held for the older man, before nodding and glancing back down at his book on the counter top. Raum held his air of indifference easily, not looking away from the page again despite the way Gabriele hesitated, as if he were looking for permission. “Go on. Enjoy.”

Anything else felt inappropriate. Despite sharing both business and pleasure, they had never crossed this particular gap. There was still so much he didn’t know about Gabriele. Truth be told, they weren’t even exactly friendly. So there was no reason for Raum to voice any of the other questions or comments that rattled his mind. He prevented it all from escaping his lips, pretending to read the words before him instead.

You’re in a good mood. Where are you going? Do you have plans? Are you meeting someone?

When will you be back?

Finally, Gabriele turned away, and whatever tension that was building under Raum’s skin slowly melted away. Yes, surely it was better for him to leave than to linger. Expecting anything else was merely asking for trouble, and Raum could spend the day however he wanted as well, without that feeling creeping over him whenever Gabriele looked at him for too long.

And yet, like he simply couldn’t help it, Raum’s eyes lifted to watch his back retreat until he was out of sight. Only then did he let out a huff, frowning, annoyed with himself for that oppressive sensation he had. He picked up his mug and went to drop it in the sink. Then, unexpectedly, he heard Gabriele’s voice from behind him.

I have two helmets.

There was a faint tingle at the back of his neck where he could feel Gabriele’s gaze linger. Was he being invited? Raum paused, shocked to find a little smile coming to his lips. He bit his lip to suppress it, taking a breath to calm his strange, bubbling excitement before looking over his shoulder questioningly.

It’s a beautiful day outside, Gabriele said, and it was impossible for Raum to ignore what he was implying. Well, perhaps it would be a shame to waste it inside...

“Is that so?” He asked, turning and leaning against the counter. He crossed his arms, briefly glancing Gabriele up and down. Despite the sudden giddiness, he couldn't resist but to make the other man sweat a little, before giving him his answer.

“Then I don’t suppose I’ll need my coat.”

#distopea #ask #v: undercover ; prodigal prince #( gloria filiorum patres ; raum & gabriele )#i FINALLY reply here #staring at them both right now.#WHY ARE THESE TWO CRIMINALS ACTING COY #i need to bash their heads together

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redhillconfetti · 2 years

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Blog post 28-01-2023 - Attending a Wedding Fair as a guest

Attending a wedding fair can be slightly intimidating for those people that may have never visited one before. You'll be walking into a room where every single person is an expert at all things wedding, and could end up asking you a whole load of questions you may not even have considered were options or things you need to think about.

My very first piece of advice is to set up a free email address (hotmail, gmail etc) for your wedding. This can be the email you put on your wedding invitation for RSVP's, and by using this to register with suppliers, once your wedding is all done you haven't had your personal email added to a hundred mailing lists.

Next is to make sure you wear the right clothing. You're not there to impress anyone, but you could end up being on your feet for hours, so wear comfortable shoes. Depending on the venue it could be baking hot or freezing cold, with no correlation to what the weather may be doing! If you're shivering or sweating you may feel like leaving earlier than you planned and could end up missing information or meeting a supplier that is just what you are looking for.

Plan your transport there, check for parking or public transport links. Google maps is your friend as some places can be hidden down narrow lanes or streets, or in a very rural location. If you have accessibility needs I would advise you to message the organisers in advance and ask if your requirements will be able to be met. Not all venues can guarantee to have a lift or a quiet space if you have sensory needs and can get overwhelmed by noise, crowds or lights etc. Try and send these questions to the organisers before the day of the fair, as on the day they will likely have limited access to their social media channels as they will be setting things up.

Once you’re in the fair, you’ll get approached by many people, the event organisers will usually meet you at the door and check your tickets. A lot of wedding fairs are ticket entry only, though the cost is usually minimal and simply for insurance purposes. As I covered in a previous blog, goody bags are a great perk of attending wedding fairs, and can be a useful little tote bag to store all the business cards, flyers, and samples you may get given on your visit.

When you are approached by the vendors, usually the very first thing you’ll be asked is ‘When is the big day?’, as this will give them an immediate way to start a conversation with you and gauge how far into your wedding planning you already are. You can give them as much or little information as you feel comfortable to. Some vendors will be very chatty, others will stand back and let you have a look over their display of their work. There may be an option to add your details to a mailing list to be entered into a prize draw for a free service or discount, this is where your wedding email account that i mentioned at the start of the blog comes in handy! If the product is something you are interested in, take a flyer or business card, you could even write notes on your phone or on the back of the card. If however its not a product you want or need, a simple ‘No thanks’ will suffice. No one is going to chase you across the room or force you to sign up for something you don’t want. I would also strongly advise against signing any deals on the day for ‘show bonus discounts’. Go home, do your research and make sure you are comfortable with the company. Check out their reviews and online presence in your own time rather than be rushed into handing over money the second you meet someone.

Take pictures whilst you are there! This is a great way to remind yourself of who you have met and what they do. Sometimes business cards can be very neutral and not give an indication of what the company does. If after the event you can’t recall a company that you would like to approach for a service, drop the organisers a message with where in the hall/event they were and a description of what their stand looked like, and they’ll be able to come back to you with contact details for that company.

I hope this blog post has helped give you an insight into what it’s like to visit a wedding fair. They can be extremely fun to go to as a guest, and a great source of inspiration for your big day. So that’s all folks,

Until next week,

Simone

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crones-trash · 2 years

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Two years ago today, my brother—V—kept calling Papa all day to wish him a Happy Valentine's Day. By 10pm, when he still didn't get an answer, he called the Vero Beach FL police to do a Wellness Check. When they arrived one of the next door neighbors came out w/ a key to Papa' door & he was found unconscious on the cold tile floor in his living room. He was rushed to the nearest hospital. By the time they reported back to V it was nearly midnight & he didn't want to wake me up w/ the bad news.

Instead, I was awoken at 7am the next morning by a nurse at the hospital who told me my 98 yo father had been admitted for apparently having a stroke. Papa had asked for me. Would I come? Of course, I would.

I didn't cry. I panicked & scrambled to set my life in order before I could drive down to FL to help Papa. This was the beginning of the worst 2 years of my life. Papa left his body on 27 February 2021. A year later my husband left his on 24 February 2023.

Here I sit in Portland OR in 2023 suffering anxiety attacks. This is not intentional. Vivid memories associated w/ dates on my calendar percolate out of my subconsciousness & set off my past emotional states. I play endless games of Solitaire & put together jigsaw puzzles to distract myself. I dunno. Maybe I should just hysterically cry myself into a stupor.

The other day I noticed the neighbor across the street getting a delivery from the same oxygen supplier my husband used. Sunday, I saw her wearing her portable oxygen tank walking w/ her housemates to the community center to watch the Super Bowl. This morning there was an ambulance outside their house. It quietly pulled away & respectfully didn't turn on its sirens in a Senior+ Community until it got on the main street.

I feel I should go over & visit strangers to console them. But honestly, I have no comfort to give. She's gonna die sooner rather than later. We all do.

#The Long-Term Effects of Grief

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wordsofelie · 11 days

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Chapter 2

🌅Don’t you dare runaway (A Phoenix and Ashes Sequel)

Miya Osamu x f!reader

Summary: Miya Osamu thinks some things will never change— Atsumu will always be annoying; his Ma’s food will always be the best and you will always be his favourite sunrise.

Content Warnings: Timeskip Setting, Manga Spoilers, ex!Suna, Swearing, Mention of Blood & Childbirth

Words count: 3.8k

chapter 1 - chapter 3

It’s late December, the leaves have left the branches and the last rays of sunlight shine timidly.

It’s late December and Atsumu thinks he might die from fratricide.

“I swear, ‘Samu, I’m sorry-”

“I told ya I needed ya today. For once in yer damn life, I ask for help, and ya can’t even do that," Osamu snaps, his jaw is tightening so much, he feels a tension forming from his neck to his forehead.

Atsumu cringes, on the other side of the call, he tries to lighten the atmosphere. “Stop cursin’, it ain’t that bad.”

“D’ya know how important this is for me?”

The younger twin starts walking around his restaurant in circles. It’s starting to get dark outside, Osamu should turn on the light, but his hands are too busy (holding the phone with his right; clenching his fist with his left).

A tornado of thoughts is invading his mind: how will he manage to get his stocks ready for the beginning of the year? He’s supposed to release the new recipe in two days, but how can he do that when he is out of rice? What if he can’t respect the orders his clients have made? Each question is coming faster than the one before.

“Listen I’m sorry, I really thought I could come but coach called us and with the winter holidays we won’t have a lot of time to practice and the Olympics Games are next year, it’s in Tokyo I really want to-“

“Please stop talkin’ about yer ass, yer just selfish- like ya’ve always been.”

Osamu’s voice is much calmer this time, more than calm, it’s cold. He has stopped walking, his thoughts have slowed down now, he just feels frustrated and angry.

“Selfish? Yer the one who doesn’t want to hire someone to help. That wouldn’t happened if ya were able to trust others but nah, Osamu-sama doesn’t want anyone but him to work in his prestigious restaurant.”

How he is supposed to rely on someone when his own brother cannot do him a favour on the busiest week of the year, the one that is supposed to make his business’ profits grow by two?

He opens his lips to bark back but a sudden wave of fatigue surges in him, “Okay, forget it. Happy new year ‘Tsumu.”

“Wait, let’s-“ Atsumu’s voice is cut short as Osamu hangs up.

The tension in the kitchen crackles like the freezing air outside.

Osamu lets himself fall on a stool in the corner of the room. He sighs heavily, desperate and lonely.

It all started earlier in the day when Kita called him. Osamu immediately felt panic in his former captain's voice and current rice supplier.

“Osamu, I’m deeply sorry, I was supposed to deliver yer order but my sister, she’s gone into labour, and it is not goin’ well. I thought I could stop by Osaka first but she’s strugglin’, she’s losin’ a lot of blood and-“

“Kita-san, it’s fine.” Osamu didn't really register the consequences of the situation at first, but he is not a monster, Kita’s sister seemed to be having a hard time, rice was the least of priorities right now.

“But I was supposed to deliver the bags this afternoon, I know how busy this time of the year is for ya. I’ll make sure to make a discount on this month’s order.”

Osamu smiled a little, “we’ll talk about that later. Take care of yer sister.”

The older man explained to his friend that with all his workers away for the New Year holidays, he had no one else to help him manage. The only remaining solution was then for Osamu to make the trip himself, Kita’s grandmother, too old to travel, stayed behind at the farm.

“I’ll inform her ya or yer brother is comin’, she’ll welcome ya. Please accept my deepest apologise.”

“Thank you, captain, I’ll call ‘Tsumu now, we’ll find a solution.”

He had then called Atsumu, who’d promised to help so that Osamu could stay in Osaka and the restaurant would be open all day tomorrow. But now, with evening falling and no sign of his brother, Osamu's temper is boiling over.

It is quiet, almost peaceful, in Onigiri Miya, still, he can feel a weight pressing down on him and stiffing his muscles. Osamu starts thinking about customers relying on him, the orders he was supposed to have prepared for the next day. He can’t even go to a supermarket since they’re all closed because of the holiday.

The situation is getting out of his hands and Osamu hates that.

The door creaks open. It’s you. Your breath fogs in the cold air as you step inside.

Osamu hears you call his name, once, twice, thrice before you finally catch sight of him.

You stand in the kitchen threshold with a bottle in your hands. He can’t see your fingers under your gloves, but the warmth of the oven makes your cheeks and nose redden a little bit.

“Hey, I wanted to bring you something. My mum made some yuzu juice, and I thought you might like it.” You set the bottle on the worktop; the sound of glass against the wooden surface makes an echo.

“Why is it so dark in here?” You turn on the light and with a teasing voice you tell him, “are you meditating or—"

You don’t finish your sentence; Osamu guesses you decipher the stormy look on his face. He lowers his cap a little as if that would hide his furrowed brows and lips pressed into a tight line. He doesn’t look like the calm, collected Osamu you know, and for a moment, you look like you’re unsure if it’s the right time to be here.

“You alright?” you ask, getting closer to him.

He exhales sharply, letting his hands fall on his thighs. “Not really,” he mutters and checks the time on his phone again. “Kita can’t get the rice to me ‘cause his sister’s gone into labour. Nobody can deliver it for me. Called ‘Tsumu for help, he said he will go but in the end he can’t. Of course, this happens today when I have eight orders to prepare, and a stall to get ready for the Christmas Market.” He clicks his tongue, it’s sharper than the sound of the glass.

You blink, taking in his words. “That’s rough,” you murmur. “But… I’m here now. What can I do to help?”

Osamu looks at you, his expression softening slightly at your offer. However, the weight of everything hasn’t lifted, and he’s unsure how to respond.

“I dunno,” he sighs. “I just need to get this rice, otherwise I’m screwed for the next few days.”

You pause, considering. “Well, how far is it to Kita’s farm?”

“It’s not the distance,” Osamu grumbles, “it’s the timing. The whole week’s been booked out, and with the rush, I can’t just go and leave the shop.”

You nod, leaning against the counter. “Alright, then if we leave now, we’ll come back during the night, and everything will be ready for tomorrow.”

Watching you talk makes his heart feel oddly light. You go to the back room to grab his jacket and hand him, you also put your navy scarf around his neck. You don’t let go of the scarf and bend towards him. The storm that is lying in his veins becomes a delicate summer breeze as soon as you lay eyes on him. Of course, he can rely on you, how could he have forgotten? The two of you have been each other rock and anchor for years. He’s helped you as much as you’ve helped him, always so gently. But what is crazy is that that gentleness of yours seems so effortless. At that moment, Osamu appears incredibly small and stupid compared to you.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

“Ya don’t have to help m-“

Your features harden and soften at the same time, it makes him feels safe and solid again. “Let me help you, please.” You simply answer.

Osamu’s knuckles are tight around the steering wheel, his phalanges even start hurting. His jaw remained clenched. He’s so worked up he barely notices the heavy silence between you two at first.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking outside the window, a quiet sigh escaping your lips.

A sense of guilt surges in him, you made the effort to come with him and he is not showing any sign of gratitude. So, he tries to engage the conversation—it’s usually so natural to talk with you in the car.

“So-hm- how was work today? Aren’t the guys too hard to handle? Did Bokuto force ya to do that TikTok trend again?”

Without looking at him, you reply, your voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. Not with me.”

“I’m not pretendin’, I’m just confused because yer not talkin’. Ya usually like to talk when I drive.” Osamu finally mutters, trying to mask the irritation in his voice, though it’s still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

You chuckle a little and finally turn to him, “I’m fine with the silence too Osamu, as long as we are together, everything’s fine.”

That simple statement makes him swallow his next words. He knows you’re right, in joy and madness, in despair and excitement, you always accept him. He knows that he doesn’t need to put on a brave face around you. But the habit of keeping his emotions in check, especially when things go wrong, runs deep. He also wants to appear composed in front of you so that you know he can always protect you.

You shift in your seat, then reach for your phone and put on some music. You look back out at the passing landscape, your voice a little higher now. “The countryside’s beautiful this time of year, don’t you think? I’ve lived in Hyogo for so many years, but I’ve never really been out here. It’s different from where my family is from up north.”

Osamu listens, though he doesn’t respond immediately. He takes a quick glance at the quiet evening roads and large fields of matcha? Rice? Flowers? It’s too dark to know exactly what is grown here. Still, he wants to enjoy the world through your eyes. To be honest, even he who was born here, never really cared about the landscapes. When his grandmother would take him and his brother on a hike, he wouldn’t complain but he wouldn’t be amazed either. Getting on top of the mountain was fun (especially when he arrived before Atsumu) because it meant he could finally sit down and have a snack. But he hated it when his grandmother asked him to wait and look around. Osamu wanted to eat not stand in front of a still view. “Listen to the wind Osamu-kun, feel the sun on your face. Yer a part of this world too, never forget everything that ya see, everything that ya touch is connected to yer own story.”, his grandmother would tell him, and the boy pretended to understand what she said. Sometimes he would stay a little bit longer to look at the landscapes, what’s so special about them anyway? He would always wonder but even today he is still seeking for the right answer.

His grip on the wheel loosens and the tension in his muscles relieves. You must feel the boy relax by your side because you steal his cap and put it on your head even if he groans. It’s too big for you, “that’s because of my brain, yer not as smart as me.” Osamu concludes with his teasing tone.

“Whatever.” You pout. Cute, he thinks.

He feels a pleasant feeling in his cheeks as his lips form into a smile and almost forgets about the chaotic evening he had just spent.

“Shin-chan told ya were comin, please get inside, ya must be cold.”

Grandma Yumie opens the door to welcome you the second you get off the car. Osamu wonders if she had been waiting on the doorway.

You bow before offering her the bottle of yuzu juice your mother had made (at least, it was useful) and thank her again and again.

“I prepared some tea, it would warm ya up.”

You take a glance at Osamu, probably to ask for his approval. He wouldn’t lie, he wants to take the rice bags, put them in his car and leave as soon as possible. But Kita’s grandmother’s kindness mixed with the need to drink something hot (Decembers are brutal in this region), doesn’t make him think twice. So, he follows her.

Once Osamu passes the entrance and takes off his shoes, he is enveloped by the aroma of something cooking in the kitchen. It smells like meat and mushrooms and seafood; she’s probably making nabe soup, he guesses. His stomach starts to ramble and his mouth to water.

The living room is clean and organised, it almost seems like nobody lives here. At the same time, there’s this present warmth, one that feels lived in. Osamu also notices the small personal touches—the neatly arranged slippers by the door, the delicate vase of flowers on a low table, a stack of freshly folded blankets resting on a chair. It reminds him of home in a way, but quieter, calmer, like time slows down here.

The old lady leads both of you into the kitchen, and Osamu is immediately drawn to the pot simmering on the stove. The scent of nabe is stronger now and his stomach rumbles again, this time louder.

“Sit, sit,” Grandma Yumie insists, motioning to the small table by the window. The view outside is dark, the cold is seeping through the glass, but the heat from inside is stronger. You take a seat, giving Osamu a small smile, your eyes light up when Yumie brings over two steaming cups of tea.

Osamu sits across from you; his eyes start to hurt from the fatigue.

“Would ya like to eat a little bit? I’ll show ya the storage room after.”

“This is so kind of you,” you say, “Thank you for welcoming us.”

Grandma Yumie waves off your gratitude with a warm smile. “Shin-chan spoke very highly of ya both. And it’s no trouble at all. Plus, it’s too cold to send ya away without a proper meal.”

You chuckle lightly, and Osamu notices the way you always seem more at ease in these kinds of settings—around older people, in quieter, simpler environments. You’ve always had that calming effect on him, even when he’s stressed or overwhelmed, like now.

There’s a picture of Shinsuke and his siblings hanging in the kitchen. Yumie tells you the story about that day. Osamu doesn’t listen to her attentively, he simply looks at you.

You fit in this house. Maybe when you’ll get older you could live in a place like this, surrounded by pictures and flowers. You could have a big kitchen and on Sundays Osamu could cook you someth—wait.

Why would you live together?

Osamu almost chokes on his tea when he realises the implication of his thought, Yumie and you turn suddenly to him.

“Are you okay Osamu?” you put your hand on his forearm and the sudden touch makes him back up brutally.

It’s subtle but the man sees your brows furrow a little bit and when your eyes leave his, he immediately regrets his move.

Touch me again, anywhere, but please, touch me, his mind is begging him to say.

But you get up and come back with a glass of water that you hand to him.

You clear your throat and say, “Maybe we should go to the storage room now and eat later.”

“Of course.” Grandma Yumie gets up and the warmth of the house isn’t enough to make up the void your touch has left on his arm.

“Shit.” Osamu curses.

Of course, the gods are against him.

First Kita who can’t do the delivery, then Atsumu letting him down and now his car whose motor seems to be frozen by the frost.

Osamu hates himself for not controlling the fucking weather (it’s snowing, and hard), not controlling the fucking car (he should have listened when his dad taught him mechanics) and above everything else, for putting you and Kita’s grandmother in trouble.

“Let me go and ask our neighbour, maybe ya could use his car.”

“Oba-san.” You say softly, “you should go inside, you’ll catch a cold if you stay in the snow. Osamu and I will take care of it, I can go to his house and ask for help?” Osamu sees your lips shudder, and still, you smile at her.

“Yer such a precious young woman.”

She gives you the instructions (“It’s the first house on the left. Tell him ya come from the Kita’s farm and that yer car doesn’t seem to start. Shinsuke will help him with the harvest this year again.”)

You start running towards the house and Osamu calls your name, “it’s dangerous.” He groans, “I should be the one goin’ there.”

“Don’t worry Osamu-kun, she’s not made of porcelain.” Yumie says gently.

“What if she falls? This is all my problem. I should take care of it. Shit.”

Yumie tilts her head a little bit and looks at him, “there are things that ya can control and some that ya can’t. The kami-sama put obstacles on our road, but it is not for us to destroy or to overcome, it’s for us to walk along them.” She waits a few seconds before continuing, “it’s hard to accept those obstacles on our own. That is why we need each other. Yer friend, she cares a lot about ya, I can tell ya that she cares as much as ya do. Let her walk by your side, treat her as your equal. If ya choose the solitary path, ya’ll never move forward. Whereas she’ll find someone else who wants her by their side. And that person will be very lucky to have her.”

(For a second Osamu believes he is on top of the mountain with his late Grand-Mother.)

Osamu sighs heavily. He waits for her to leave and kicks the wheel in frustration. The force he puts in his leg makes him fall down on his back on the frozen grass.

He doesn’t even complain about the fall, nor he tries to stand up.

He just lies there.

The stars should have been shining bright tonight but instead they’re hidden by clouds.

Osamu just wanted things to be right. He wanted to please his customers, improve his recipes and have a better reputation. What if he loses his restaurant after that?

You’re being too dramatic, just like your brother, you would tell him.

But the thing his, he really wanted to show the world he could make it. Show ‘Tsumu he made the right choice, show his Ma’ and Pa’ they can be proud of their son even if he’s not a world-known athlete, show you he’s someone you can rely on (not like your dickhead ex).

But it’s over now.

“Get your ass off here.”

Your voice resonates into his ears like an order, you sound mad. You never sound mad.

He sits to take a look at your face. It’s hard to see in the dark, but you look as mad as you sound.

“We will have to leave tomorrow morning.” You tell him and the reality hits him in the guts, “It’s too dangerous to take the road now because more snow is coming. The motor needs to warm up so there’s no other choice but to wait. If your car is still like that tomorrow, then the neighbour will let us have his car. It’s a good thing everyone respects Kita here.”

You’re right, again, but that doesn’t help ease the boy’s frustration.

“What?” You ask even though it comes out more like an accusation than a question.

“I’m pissed off.” Osamu feels his ears warm up as he realises how childish he sounds.

“Well, that won’t change anything. Now come inside.”

“I want to stay here a little bit.”

You sigh in annoyance, “And you’ll get sick, and you’ll have to close the restaurant and this time, the only person to blame will be you.”

Osamu thought he would always be the one to look after you. Sometimes you seem so fragile, he wants to build a fort around you and constantly stand guard. He wants to hide you from all the people and horrors that this world has created.

What a fool.

You don’t need him.

Because you already look after yourself. And you do a pretty good job at it.

You’re so much stronger than he thinks.

So, he gets up and runs to catch up with you. You walk a little bit in silence and finally you say playfully, “stop frowning so much or you’ll get wrinkles.”

He rolls his eyes and can’t help but grin.

“What’s on your mind?” You decide to ask him anyway, even though the answer is pretty clear.

Or at least you thought it was.

“This was a shitty day. But I’m happy we shared that shit together.”

Then, “thank you,” he whispers before opening the door.

Osamu doesn’t want to hold back anymore so he smiles, genuinely, wholeheartedly. Perhaps, this way, he can convey what words can’t.

The features on your face soften and you don’t look mad anymore (even though he didn’t know why you were mad in the first place). It’s enough to make his heart at peace.

After helping Grandma Yumie wash the dishes and make the bed, you get ready to shower.

When Osamu comes out of the bathroom, you look surprised (which is weird because you’ve literally spent the day together, so why are you acting like you were not expecting him here?)

He runs his hand through his wet hair awkwardly and mumbles, “I-I took a bath, you can use the water. I hope it’s not too hot though.”

“That’s nice of you.” You clear your throat. His eyes fall on your neck as if instinct had drawn them here. You wear a purple kakeyu that once belonged to Kita’s sister. Purple looks good on you, Osamu thinks (but any colour would look good on you really).

The top of the cloth is loosening a little bit so if his eyes travel a little bit further down, he might see things he’ll regret (well, it’s not the sight he would regret but it’s the fact that he didn’t ask for your permission to do so. But if he were honest, he really wished he could see more. But that’s not the time nor the place.)

He suddenly starts searching for something to distract him, a frame, a stain on the wall, a chandelier. Anything could make it.

“Oba-san just told me Kita's sister has recovered. She had a baby girl, she's very healthy.” You break the silence.

“Well, that's a relief.”

“It is... hm-Have a good night.”

“Yeah, ya too.”

“My bedroom is in front of yours so if you don’t feel good or I don’t know… Well.. just knock.”

“I’ll knock. Sure. Thanks.”

He starts walking to his room and suddenly he is glad his back his facing you now because his face has turned red. Scarlet, even.

(And so is yours, but he’ll never know that.)

Grandma Yumie, who wanted to give you some tea before sleep, decides it’s no use anymore.

Maybe it’s better to leave those two alone, she whispers to herself.

author notes: when my boyfriend read that chapter he told me the beginning was very chaotic and i thought that i should change it but he said it was the point and that it was a good way of showing how frustrated osamu feels haha, idk what you think of that?

anyway that was very random, i hope you liked it :)

Elie

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @teyvatsunsets, @obibiwan

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x y/n #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu #haikyuu osamu #osamu fluff #osamu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #osamu hq #onigiri miya #osamu timeskip #haikyuu time skip

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